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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Someone New 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Thanks as usual for reading.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Things don’t become comfortable, but familiar. You get into a routine, one which smears the days and nights into the other. The landscape helps with that. The sun is fleeting, even in July. The days are longer but it’s not anywhere as stifling or humid as New York. Like everything else, it’s different.

The man at the fish place, Frederik, knows your name. His wife, Inga too. When you walk in the door, they put your order to fry before you even get to the counter. They’re friendly and warm. It’s nice to have some smiling faces when you can hardly muster the same.

They like to ask you about New York; they’re finally planning a big trip to America after twenty-five years together. They remind you of Marigold and her bakery. You long for one of her eclairs and her chatty demeanour. Just another thing to miss.

As you sit down at a table near the window to eat in, your phone goes off. You answer as you read Sam’s name across the screen. He’s the only one you’ve talked to in the last month. Nearly two now. August is close.

“Yo, yo, girly pop,” he sings from the other end.

“Girly pop? Sam,” you chide as you hover a thick cut fry before your mouth.

“Chicky poo, nope. Girly pop, nope. I’ll get there,” he teases, “finally got a hold of you.”

“Uh, yeah, the site is far. No signal,” you shrug and take a bite.

“I know, I'm just needy,” he kids. “So, you hitting the spa? Summer’s going fast.”

“Not yet,” you swallow. “Sam, there’s a lot of work here and it’s just me. The only help I get is from a local student volunteer and they do three hours a week.”

“Oof, why does your work sound so boring?” He groans

“Hey!”

“Well, I mean, digging up dirt all day, tell me you’re not going mad. You making friends? No one to cool, I hope. I’m still your number one guy.”

“Not really. It’s tough. Long hours. I don’t know,” you stare out the window as you toy with the bamboo fork.

“If you were going to hide all day in a hovel, you could’ve stayed in New York,” he sighs.

“Sam, I’m trying. Really. It’s... It’s going to take some time.”

“Right,” he agrees grimly. “Time. A year is not that long.”

You hum and lean back in the chair. You’re not as hungry as you were. You close up the container and stand.

“I know, alright?” You sniff as you tidy the table and grab your food, “but this isn’t a vacation.”

“It’s also not a missionary trip,” he retorts. “I’m not tryna be a dick here, I’m helping. You need this.”

You push out into the street and cluck. Silence. You don’t know what to say. He’s right and just like ever day, the conversation is the same. Over and over. It’s going to drive you crazy.

“More sunlight this time of year, good for work--”

“No more work talk,” he interjects, “if you don’t got anything fun going on, I'll just have to make you jealous. Some good old fashioned FOMO. Hm, me and Bucky went to Jersey.”

“Jersey? Why?” You take the bait, happy for the distraction.

“Oh, yeah, I told him there was a vintage bike for sale there.”

“You told him that but...”

“There wasn’t. I just wanted to see him interact with the locals. The old ladies love him but the men... well, I think he might have a warrant out now.”

“No, Sam, what the hell?” You exclaim as you stroll along. “Are you trying to get him killed?”

“Hey, I got his back. Just like I got yours. It was just a prank.”

“Wait, Sam, where exactly did you take him in Jersey?”

“Some cribbage club, I don’t know. I saw a page for it online. Thought he’d fit in--”

“They were old?”

“They match his energy,” he snorts.

You can’t help but laugh. It feels good. Just that little bit of home. Your amusement is dampened as your heart sinks. You really were so stupid. You didn’t see what you had all around you; Bucky, Sam, more than just Steve. Now it’s all behind you and going back won’t be the same as before.

💟

There’s tension in the air. It’s going to rain. You suspect your day will be cut short by the gathering clouds but your persist. No use in running. Again.

The last time you left in fear of a storm, it waited until the next day. So you sit, boots set in the dirty, hunched over as you carefully trace out the strange lump. It’s more than sediment. Bone but not a skeleton. Likely animal and bent into some tool. You have to be delicate. It’s not like the movies, you can’t just dig your hand in and rip it out.

Your earbud drones as a retro R&B playlist keeps your mind at focus. You wipe your forehead with the back of your glove, feeling the flecks of dirt cling to your skin. You ignore it and press on. Just a little more, a little more.

It’s bigger than you expect. Just as you think it might come free, you find it goes further down. You can make out the jagged break and the hide wrapping at it’s base. A spear of some sort.

You roll your shoulders out and put your tools down on the open role. You peel of the gloves and reach for the tall insulated bottle of water. You gulp, your throat cooling nicely at the flow. You cap the bottle and clear your throat, listening to the silence of the mountain.

Yet it isn’t quiet. You glance around at the subtle scratching, a strange tapping across the ground. It could be vermin. It’s not unusual to disturb a nest of one thing or another on a dig but they usually leave early on.

You put the bottle down and shove your hand back into a glove. A puffy breath comes over the scratching. Several breaths in quick succession, as if there’s something sniff. You keep your other glove in your grip and stand. Your legs are so cramped that your steps are stiff and stunted.

As you search for the source, there’s a yipe and a fuzzy shape catches your eye. You tilt your head, thoroughly confused at the barking beast. You’re not certain that chihuahuas are native to Norway. At least, you wouldn’t assume so.

The ashy blond dog has longer fur along its ears and chest and a white bolt down its chest. You can tell it isn’t wild despite its behaviour as it is finely groomed and wears a bright red collar. You approach the fence as it hops, stopping only to try to dig beneath with its dirtied paws.

“Hi, buddy,” you near the eager dog, “how’d you get up here?”

You stop just across from the dog and poke your fingers through the fence. It stops, you think a ‘he’, and sniffs your fingers. His cold nose tickles you and you wiggle until you can pet his head. The little thunderbolt emblem on hiss collar peeks through his mane. There might be some information there.

“Thunder!” The booming voice sounds like the very thing it decries, “Thunder, you pest, where’re you off too?”

There’s a crunching of soil and rock along the mountain pass as the dog growls and barks again, turning to face the skewing of a towering shadow. You watch in shock at the approach. You didn’t think there was life so far up. That or someone has chosen a rather treacherous hiking trail.

The dog, you assume ‘Thunder’, bounces back and forth in anticipation of his own, calling to him with his pitchy yaps. The man appears around the jagged rock and you feel the air knocked from your chest. You slowly reach to take out your earbud and tuck it in a pocket.

Wow. You blink to make sure it’s real. To be certain this isn’t some trick of the mind or this ancient land. Maybe the gods are real here.

He’s tall and broad and handsome. His canvas jacket does little to conceal his muscular build as his jeans are snug to his thick thighs. You think he’s even bigger than Steve. You wince at the reminder of the man but it quickly flits away. You can’t ignore the man before you with his golden tresses twisted back into a low bun, stray strands wisping forward to frame his stony jaw and stormy blue eyes.

You stand gaping through the fence as the man flinches in fright. His gaze meet yours and his cheeks tinge pink as he gives a crooked grin, “ah, Thunder, my darling, you’ve found a friend.”

He whistles and the dog lunges forward. He picks up the chihuahua, their size difference almost comical as he cradles him in one arm. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can barely think.

You snap your mouth shut and clear your throat. Work. That’s what you should be doing.

“Hello,” the man nears the other side of the fence before you can move away, “I’ve been wondering what this is all about. The signs...” he points with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, uh,” you peer around as if lost. You sort of are. “A dig. Er. Grant,” you stammer out. You take a breath and still your mind, “I work with an archeological society in New York. We’ve been sponsored by your national board to exhume this site.”

“Ah, yes, makes sense,” he lowers his brows thoughtfully as the dog squirms in his hold, yiping and biting at his sleeve. “Forgive me, she is rather uncouth.” He raises the dog higher and she wiggles in his arm. You see it now, definitely a pampered girl. “This is Thunder. She lives up to her namesake, eh?”

“Uh, yeah,” you give a brittle smile, unsure.

“Thor,” he dips his chin down, “I live just up the pass.”

“You do?” You wonder curiously. “All the way up here?”

“Oh yes, if you saw the old haunt, you might just want to dig that up too,” he jokes. “We usually go up the pass, towards the river.”

“The river?”

“Yes, you mustn’t stray far from here,” he remarks as he raises a hand to lean on the fence, only to nearly tip the unanchored grating. “Oooh, apologies,” he rights himself with a laugh, “anyhow, it is nice to see a new face around here. Better to have a name for it.”

“Right, uh,” you offer your name and giggle nervously, “it’s just me on-site, guess I forget my manners.”

“Not to worry. As the resident mountain man, my etiquette does lack,” he winces as Thunder chomps on his thumb knuckle, “eh, you monster, alright.” He holds her up and she pokes her nose through the fence, “she loves new people. Not so keen on the old.”

“She's cute,” you scratch her nose and she licks your fingers. “Not exactly a native species.”

“Who knows where she came from? Found the little dragon in the woods. Suppose someone left her there. She was covered in mud, so small I though she was a bloody toad,” he muses as he brings her back against his chest and rocks her, “it was only her thunderous barks which told me otherwise, isn’t that right, darling?”

He makes a kissy noise at her and her fluffy tail wags wildly against him. You smile more genuinely. It is nice to have another living thing around after digging up the broken and dead for so long.

“So you’re from New York?” He asks abruptly, his blue eyes rolling over you like a tide.

“Yeah,” you utter breathily, “yes, New York.”

“You’ve been here a while?”

“Couple months,” you shift and twist your glove.

“Wonderful, and you’ve done much exploring? You must live in town.”

“About three hours,” you point towards the gravelly road, “haven’t had much time for sightseeing but I found a good fish shop.”

“A shop? That’s no good. We catch our own fish, fry ‘em up over the pit,” he says, “that’s the way we do it up here.”

You nod, “sounds fun. Well, er,” you turn halfway and look around, your eyes skimming up to the cloudy sky, “I should probably hustle. Looks like rain.”

“That it does but it won’t be ‘til midnight,” he assures.

“You think it’ll hold out?”

“I know so,” he affirms and lingers by the fence, trying to see past you, “what exactly are you uncovering over there?”

“Not much so far,” you pull on your loose glove.

“You must know what this place was. A raider’s camp.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm, yes, the raiders would camp upon the pass away from those who might come ashore, then go off themselves to find a coast to reap,” he explains.

“And how do you know all that?” You ask as you tramp back to your place in the dirt.

“Suppose some of my ancestors camped here with them,” he offers casually, “for so long as we’ve been up here. Once the viking scamps settled, they had to find a home somewhere. Some fellow named Agmundr or another built a stone house further up.”

“Admundr? Family?” You prompt.

“Distant,” he assures, “been some time and that stone house is now a foundation.”

You get down to your knees as you grab your brush and peek over at him, “thanks for the information. I’ll have to add it to the land report. Have them crosscheck in the archives.”

“Not at all. You won’t find it all on your paper, you know? We carry or history on our tongues here.”

“Sure,” you say as you bend over the spearhead and start again.

“You don’t mind if I watch? I always did love history and I’ve never seen a proper dig before.”

“Not much going on, I’m afraid,” you shrug, “but if you want.”

“Thunder will have a tantrum if I go,” he chuckles, “she likes you.”

“Hm,” you scoff, “she is very outspoken.”

You set your eyes on your task but can’t shake the awareness of your audience. It’s not too unusual. There were a few digs you did early on in the heart of the city and people loved to ogle you. This is different. Just the two of you. A stranger even. Friendly as he is, you’re happy for the fence, even if it is rather flimsy.

“Those bones aren’t for you,” he says to the dog as she wriggles in his grasp. “Let’s find a stick then, you little pest.”

#thor #steve rogers #grayish fic #angst fic #thor x reader #steve rogers x reader #fic #series #someone new #mcu #marvel #au #avengers #captain america

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simplybakugou · 3 months

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Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki’s Route

MYSTIC ACADEMIA SERIES MASTERLIST

START HERE: COMMON ROUTE

OPTIONAL: Ashido Mina’s Route; Kirishima Eijirou’s Route

PAIRING: gamer/streamer!kaminari x fem!reader

TAGS/WARNINGS: fluff; teeny tiny bit of angst; mentions of stalking; similar amount of events that happens in yoosung's route

STATUS: completed

UPDATES: irregular; whenever i'm done editing each part

A/N: here’s kami’s route!! kaminari is yoosung’s route (but like the only similarity they have is they both like to game lmao they are not similar at all). kaminari’s route maybe one of the most different compared to mm (mainly cause i HATED yoosung's route lol). but there will be some common themes, the biggest difference is y/n and kaminari's relationship. i hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

credits to @mha-transparents for the kaminari cap

NOTE: please make sure to read the COMMON ROUTE first! MINA’S ROUTE and KIRISHIMA’S ROUTE are also completed if you’d like to read those as well!

JOIN THE TAGLIST

DAY 1:

🎮00:02 ↠ keep the elderly in check 🎮06:17 ↠ kinda endearing 🎮13:26 ↠ you're a freak 🎮18:39 ↠ you better back off 🎮21:47 ↠ my pretty girlfriend

DAY 2:

🎮01:05 ↠ ... cute 🎮07:12 ↠ the two freaks 🎮14:21 ↠ meant for each other 🎮19:33 ↠ two lovely fans & supporters & girlfriends 🎮22:49 ↠ so you WOULD date him

DAY 3:

🎮02:07 ↠ give me a chance 🎮08:11 ↠ that's what friends are for 🎮STORY MODE ↠ sero hanta 🎮18:32 ↠ y/n's trapped 🎮23:45 ↠ i wanna see you

DAY 4:

🎮03:03 ↠ someone's watching you??? 🎮09:19 ↠ deku's not answering 🎮STORY MODE ↠ sero hanta 🎮19:35 ↠ good news 🎮21:42 ↠ to the safest place on earth

DAY 5:

🎮02:03 ↠ join us in paradise 🎮STORY MODE ↠ unknown 🎮15:22 ↠ the mfa love story 🎮20:21 ↠ need to talk about some important things 🎮23:11 ↠ can't be THAT dangerous

DAY 6:

🎮STORY MODE ↠ sero hanta 🎮10:12 ↠ all we can do is wait 🎮STORY MODE ↠ kaminari denki 🎮16:19 ↠ ... we're okay 🎮19:10 ↠ can't keep this a secret anymore 🎮STORY MODE ↠ kaminari denki 🎮STORY MODE ↠ kaminari denki 🎮STORY MODE ↠ kaminari denki 🎮23:59 ↠ best party of my fucking life

DAY 7:

🎮M.F.A. PARTY ↠ worth it

#kaminari denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #bnha social media au #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha smau #mystic messenger #denki kaminari x reader #denki x y/n #kaminari x y/n #bnha kaminari #denki kaminari #kaminari #denki #mha denki #bnha denki

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

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Nobody’s Fool Part 2 (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion surprises you at the dock and an impromptu sleepover occurs. You and Astarion talk about why you worship Selune and your history.

Content warning: Deceased parents, work camp, Dead dove, mentions of attempted SA

Author note: thank you so much for all the love! This will probably have a few more parts so I hope you enjoy! Also I am writing him as super awkward on purpose

Not my pic- if it is your, please let me know so I can tag you! @casualya

You sit and skip rocks across the murky water- the rest of your companions are in their respective spots inside the dilapidated buildings. You usually spend time with Karlach, but, for whatever reason, Shadowheart seems to enjoy taking whatever company you have. Thankfully Karlach is actually your best friend and loves you, but it still hurts.

You know you could ask the others- you are sure one of them would want to spend time with you. Hells, Gale even commented on the Beach being a fun place and you didn’t think to invite him. Maybe it’s because the last time went so catastrophically that you don’t want to put yourself in that position again.

Or because it would never be the date you had envisioned with Astarion. You had your blanket packed up next to your tent with a bottle of wine- you had a pouch to collect shells. You thought it might be fun for him to have something from a different place and shells are always so fun to find- at least from what you remember before the Mine. Your parents used to take you all the time and you would collect seashells together.

It’s the last time you truly, truly felt loved outside of praying to your Goddess. You don’t feel like you fit in with the other Selunite Clerics, you try your best, but there is always someone more desirable, more interesting, and you are just eh.

There is always a Shadowheart that stands out in the crowd- deservedly so- she is a rare gem. You are just like any other gem Astarion has seen over the last two hundred years.

Sure people liked you, but it was never the people you liked. It was always the ones who were overbearing, hell bent on settling down and having a housewife. That isn’t what you want, but the men who want adventure and to be best friends, lovers, etc. want the more exciting individuals

The tears fall without your permission and you release a sigh of despair. You let your shoulders shake and your heart ache- it is better to release the pain in your chest than power through it. It will be better to get it out now while no one is around and you don’t have to be so wildly embarrassed about being emotional.

It’s not that you are still hung up on Astarion- you actually find it’s easier to keep boundaries if you don’t talk to him for tooo long. Just long enough to not make him feel left out, but not too long that he feels like he is special to you.

Of course, it hurts you to do that. You feel like he deserves to be special to someone- it just wasn’t meant to be you and you need to hold onto all of that specialness for the person you are meant to be with.

But what if you don’t want to be with anyone else ever again? This is your first big big crush, ever! What if you are never capable of developing feelings like this again!?

You skip another rock pitifully across the water and watch as a fish jumps out to get it- only to be eaten by a bigger fish right after.

Typical, you sigh, my rock was given to someone just for someone else to receive the benefits.

It’s probably a good thing you are by yourself- you are quite the bummer today.

“There you are- I have been looking for you just about everywhere, Darling,” a familiar voice says from behind you.

Oh great, you think, trying to collect yourself enough that it’s not obvious you are crying, he probably wants advice on how to make things right with Shadowheart. He never comes over and this is the first night Karlach is-

“I bought this for you,” he says awkwardly as he sits down next to you on the dock, “I thought it might help while uh fighting- so you don’t have to use up all of your magic like you did the other day.”

You had felt like shit and slept through a whole day- you had overextended yourself with healing the day before and it had really taken a toll on you. You began feeling better today, but Shadowheart still took over the healing matters which you appreciated.

You look at Astarion’s hands and you are shocked to see an Amulet of Restoration. You have always wanted one, but they are ridiculously expensive. You had been eyeing this one while you were visiting the Myconoid Colony- you didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

“I think the typical response is, ‘Thank you’, but I would like to request a very kind adjective at the end.”

Astarion wiggles his eyebrows at you and you snort, shaking your head.

“Thank you, beautiful,” you tease and notice how his face becomes slightly more lively and the tips of his ears grow pink.

How silly- he probably gets that descriptor all the time.

You put the necklace on, it’s warm against your skin and it helps to heal the cracks in your chest. A sigh of relief leaves you as the weight of the world seems to lift ever so slightly.

You both sit there in silence- you are unable to come up with any topics of conversation. Your brain just feels icky and tired. You also wouldn’t even know what to say anymore. You haven’t really talked in a while- a whole week to be exact. Time seems to move differently on this journey- a week feels like months.

You mostly expect him to get up and leave, but he never does.

“So- uh- the water is… dark.”

You don’t know what surprises you more- that Astarion attempted to start a conversation first or that his small talk is truly truly terrible.

Either way, you may need to use this necklace sooner rather than later so you don’t die of shock.

“It’s exceptionally dark,” you add, “I bet there are all kinds of beasties down there.”

Astarion’s feet get a little further away from the edge of the dock and he chuckles nervously. The water is quite unsettling and you hope you didn’t scare him too much. You don’t think you are ready for him to leave yet.

“Oh, you think so? Like what?”

This is… odd. He wants to keep talking? You feel like you are usually dragging the conversation along and now that you have had time to thoroughly analyze all of your previous interactions- you still don’t know how you had been so blind.

This is not within the norm.

“Well- I heard,” you look left and right before making eye contact again, “a Kraken may live down there.”

Astarion groans and you laugh heartily- Gale has been talking about Kraken’s all day and Astarion had looked so annoyed by the end of the journey to the Decrepit Village that everyone steered clear of him. No one wanted a piercing insult on their psyche that evening.

“Not you too!”

“Did you know-“

“Please- no!” He says in exasperation, “any more fun Kraken facts and I may let myself become one’s meal.”

You shake your head and play with your hands- trying to find some way to keep the conversation going. It’s pathetic, but you don’t want to stop talking to him. That tiny piece of hope doesn’t want to.

“What do you think it’s blood tastes like?” You ask, “the Kraken, I mean.”

You don’t necessarily know why that particular thought seems to interest you, but you look at the water and think. You don’t look at his face, mostly worried you might have offended him by even asking. Is that something you can ask a Vampire?

“Would it be more mammal or fish-like?”

Astarion looks equally as curious regarding this line of thought.

“Well, I tried a fish when we were near the Grove- it was atrocious, truly,” Astarion shudders, “I can’t imagine a Kraken is going to taste that much better.”

“Fish really tastes that bad?”

Astarion nods with a scowl, “it’s not nearly as bad as the bugs and rats Cazador fed me, but I still have no desire to indulge in that again.”

You blink a few times, unsure if you heard him right.

“Rats and bugs?” You ask, “I thought you always fed off of people.”

Astarion throws his head back with a cynical laugh.

“That was a good one, Darling.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Astarion looks perplexed and then seems to be immediately flooded with shame- beginning to get back up and make his leave.

“On that note-”

“Wait,” you get up quickly, “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, okay? But there is no judgment from me- ever. I promise.”

You both stand there, staring at each other, and he is searching your eyes for any sign of deception. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he sat back down.

You aren’t sure how close you should sit next to him, so you give yourself and him a relatively decent-friend sized gap.

You can still be his friend- that you can do.

“Cazador would have me bring the prettiest souls in all of Baldur’s Gate,” he scowls, “he would ask me if I wanted to dine with him and if I said no, he would flay me. If I said yes, he would sooo ‘generously’ give me a putrid, dead, rotting rat.

“You are the first thinking creature I have…”

You aren’t really sure what you are supposed to say in this situation. You have never been a Vampire Spawn before and you certainly haven’t had to drink putrid blood. Rotten food and such, sure, but you have a feeling expressing empathy and your own experience would not be perceived well.

“I am really sorry you had to do that.”

“It doesn’t matter- I will never have to do that again.”

“True.”

You both sit there quietly and just enjoy the silence- the sound of gentle waves flowing through the air is soothing and it’s calming. You enjoy his company- immensely. You will let yourself soak into it for a moment.

“I made a mistake,” Astarion breaks the silence, “going with Shadowheart the night of the party.”

You are frozen and entirely unsure of how to respond to that. Does he mean he should have accepted your offer or does he just want to talk about it?

“Oh- I’m sorry it wasn’t enjoyable for you.”

He stares down into the murky water and doesn’t say a word. The silence is heavy between both of you and you don’t want to ask the question that is weighing heavily on your mind because you honestly don’t think you want to know the answer.

It was probably just that the sex was bad or they didn’t end up having as much chemistry as they thought.

“He said your name in the middle of the act itself!”

You feel the tips of your ears heat up and your heart begins to hammer in your chest when Karlach’s words resurface.

No- it was probably an accident.

“When you asked me to walk on the beach that night,” he whispers, “what were your intentions?”

You feel like a stone has dropped on your chest again with his words and you really have no desire to answer them, but you probably should.

“My intentions,” you say meekly, “were to take you on a date. Don’t worry- it won’t happen again.”

“You,” he sounds stunned, “you didn’t invite me to go to the beach with you for sex?”

You hadn’t even thought about sex if you are being entirely honest. You have never been intimate with anyone before- some stupid chastity thing you had felt was important as a youth and now you are picky.

“Oh- no that was very far from my mind,” you say sheepishly, “I had other activities in mind, sex was not one of them.”

“Like what?”

You feel embarrassment course through your veins- you really shouldn’t be talking about this with him. Maybe they are all in on this big joke and when you share what you were going to do, they will all laugh around the campfire.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you say with a pinched smile, meeting his unreadable expression, “come on- we should head back to camp.”

You don’t catch the frown on his face as you get up to walk away.

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

You are going cross eyed as you try to read and continue to zone out.

Why did Astarion ask you so much about your date plans three days ago? Why has he been unusually atune to your recent needs? Why does he consistently keep your favorite alcohol on hand lately?

A lot has changed within a few days. You still spend an exceptional amount of time with Karlach, but Astarion has begun finding times to get your undivided attention too. It is as if he is helping Shadowheart with developing her relationship with Karlach.

Maybe he feels guilty for things not working out between them and is “taking one for the team”. It is likely that- there really isn’t any other reason for him to be spending time with you and you refuse to believe he has just suddenly developed feelings for you.

Have more bizarre things happened in your life? Certainly- there is even a tadpole in your head to prove it. Astarion having feelings for you is never going to be one of those bizarre things and you would be a fool to suddenly have hope now- even with the Amulet of Restoration warming your skin.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You are jolted from your thoughts when an incessant knocking pulls you back to reality. You blink a couple times and rub your eyes- yawning while telling the other individual to come in. You are hoping it is Karlach- she had been spending time with Shadowheart and she seems to be quite smitten. It is not Shadowheart’s fault that she is beautiful and wonderful nor was it her fault that Astarion was more attracted to her- you just want Shadowheart to be happy.

“You sound awfully tired, Darling,” stunning ruby eyes are peering at you from the shadows of your tent, “I can leave you be for the night if you would prefer.”

It would probably be for the best, but the ghost of tears on his cheeks makes you think otherwise. He needs someone right now and in spite of your efforts, you still adore him. There is a book in his slightly shaking hand.

“Oh, no! That’s alright- you are welcome to sit and stay here as long as you need.”

He smiles softly- something you have never seen before- and he sits down next to you. Both of your knees touch as you get back to your book and he begins to read his own. You are struggling to read your page even more now.

His cologne consumes you inside of your tent and you feels like you could begin to cry- you want to cuddle into him. You want to melt into his arms and know what it means to fall in love, be in love, and be loved in return. However, he does not want you. He needs you and that is wildly different than wanting.

“What are you reading?”

Your mind goes blank all of a sudden.

What are you reading?

You turn the book over in your hand to look at its cover- how are you going to explain not knowing the cover of your own book?

“Shar’s Teachings of Loss.”

Astarion looks bewildered by your choice of literature and you snort with a roll of your eyes.

“Shadowheart gave it to me and I told her I would give it a try.”

“Why?”

“Because it can help me understand her better,” you say with a shrug, “and maybe I can help her see that there is more to life than darkness and suffering.”

The silence in the air is thick and unsettling- not in a dangerous way, but as if you opened a Pandora’s box for Astarion.

“Why do you care?” His voice sounds sharp and judgmental, “she would rather slit her own throat than bother to read Selune’s doctrine.”

You sit and think for a moment- why do you care?

“I guess I realized that Shadowheart fell into Shar’s lap because she was a victim of circumstance,” you say slowly, “and I suppose if I had been in her shoes- I would have fallen into Shar’s Doctrine as well. I was just lucky enough to be found by Selune first.”

The silence continues and you try to go back to reading your book, but it’s no use. Your brain is entirely distracted by his presence in your atmosphere.

“Why did you begin worshipping Selune?”

You hate to admit how giddy you feel that he is asking you questions about yourself. You are so used to being the one to keep conversations going between both of you that you honestly are still surprised when he makes an effort instead.

“My parents had died in the mine we were being forced to live in by some Ravengers,” your voice is barely a whisper, “they became really sick and then they were just gone.

“I ended up getting sick a few weeks later. I was hallucinating and I was in so much pain. I knew I was dying and I was… I was okay with that. I wanted to be free and with my parents again.

“But then a girl who was only a little older than me began taking care of me and praying to Selune every night that I would live.

“A week later, when I was on my deathbed, Paladins and Clerics of Selune freed us from the mine and I lived.”

“And you have worshipped Selune ever since?”

“Gods no,” you laugh, “when I turned 22, I left the church and I was very angry. I couldn’t understand why I lived and my parents didn’t. I couldn’t understand why we had ever been put in that mine in the first place when Selune had been capable of saving us. I joined a local thieves and assassins guild in Althkalta for about five years.

“I was laying in bed one night with the leader of the guild- he had drugged me and… well I remember looking up and seeing the moon. Right as he was about to, uh, enter me?” You chuckle nervously, “he was burned alive by the moon. I had abandoned her, but she never abandoned me. I realized I had become someone I wasn’t. I left and returned to the church after that. I have been there ever since.”

“Darling,” Astarion gasps, “you have been holding out on me. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of luxuries we could have stolen together by now.”

You smile awkwardly, “Oh I am not sure about that- I was quite miserable doing that, unfortunately. I am a bit lame.”

“Well- if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

It’s back to being entirely silent and it remains that way long enough for you to finally finish three pages of the book.

This is so depressing- the book. No wonder Shadowheart is so guarded and paranoid 80 percent of the time. You would be too if you were brought up to believe this nonsense.

“I can’t see you being a very good thief or assassin,” Astarion says awkwardly, “for what it’s worth.”

You blink a couple times and look at him for a moment. You begin to laugh like a mad man- his expression is so serious and he certainly isn’t wrong. You were terrible at it and you still aren’t sure how you are going to bring back Nere’s head.

“You would be correct! I was horrendous! Most of my targets remained alive- some I even warned beforehand because I didn’t feel like the contract was fair.”

Astarion snorts, “what do you mean fair? I don’t think any part of that work revolves around being ‘fair’.”

“It most certainly does not,” you sigh, “one time a guy tricked me into thinking he was a good person and then he went on to kill eight people. You could probably imagine how great that felt.”

Much to your surprise, Astarion continues to ask you about your misadventures- both as a cleric and as a horrible excuse for a rogue. It leads the way for some of his own stories to bleed in- snatching a beautiful necklace from someone for Gold so he can buy the nicer wine one night and other shenanigans like that.

You tell him that you are rather terrified to have to decapitate Nere and it isn’t something you really want to do. Astarion offers to do it for you so that you can A. Not embarrass yourself and B. Not have to do something you really do not want to do. You would be remiss if you said it didn’t make your heart beat with joy. It is very white knightish of him and you are still a person who adores a good fairytale at the end of the day.

At some point you fell asleep, but you barely remember telling Astarion he doesn’t have to go. However, waking up with his arms wrapped around you and his habitual breath fanning across your face is not a bad way to start your day.

His body is cool against yours, a welcome change in this excruciatingly warm environment. Your entire tent smells like him and you silently pray that it will remain this way. You honestly aren’t sure how you will feel when you walk into it later today and his cologne is gone.

And what if he regrets staying? What if he regrets cuddling with you or he felt like he had to? You really don’t want to regress in your friendship and go back to square one. He has been much kinder and agreeable lately. Astarion has really begun taking his mask off and you aren’t ready to see it go back on.

“Stop overthinking, Darling” a grumble from near your ear makes you jolt ever so slightly, “your body is so tense I can practically hear your thoughts.”

“I-sorry.”

Astarion hums before asking, “unless you are tense because you want me to stop touching you- then you can say something, obviously.”

“That’s not it,” you say much faster than you wanted to, “this is… nice.”

A pleased hum comes from your companion’s lips and you feel him begin to relax against you again. Your heartbeat eventually calms along with your thoughts and you allow yourself to indulge for however much longer he will allow you to.

It’s possible that he does have feelings for you- this is something you have refused to entertain up until now, but Astarion’s love languages would be buying something at full price, decapitating someone, and cuddling you. He doesn’t like to be touched, doing things for others, or paying for something when he can just as easily steal it.

He could also be afraid and feel like he needs to be close with someone for safety. That is a feeling you understand all too well with your own history. You suppose that is why you are struggling to believe that this is truly happening in the first place.

You know actions speak louder than words and his actions are telling the story of a scared individual who is fighting for his freedom.

Maybe Selune has answered his prayers- you can be here for his comfort and as his friend because that is what he needs from this journey. It’s why you met each other. One day you may have to watch him fall in love and you will also find someone else in spite of the pain, but that’s okay.

That’s what friends are for.

Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x you #karlach #astarion x gn! tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 tav

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candiid-caniine · 11 months

Note

Hey! Long time no see, i know i said id send you a fantasy i thought you'd like but now ive forgotten almost all of it, oop!

Life happened, and uh, i saw that you mentioned your libido being a bit low, which definitely is my case too (im recovering from depression, now that im okay id love to get my FULL libido back, or at least a good percentage of it) do you have any tips on that?

Also any recs of blogs writing in the same vibe as you? (same-ish kinks would be nice but im specifically looking for queer inclusive stuff!) it makes me 10x hornier than the regular video/photo porn!

Hope you're well, you pathetic little thing!

💫

hi friend!! ugh i feel you. sorry i haven't got any advice on regaining ur libido...we just let mine wax and wane as it will, though denial has been a big help in keeping it steady!

i've heard good things abt ginseng and some other herbs. obvs use at your own risk, mind that some herbal treatments can cross-interact with certain medications, remember that pre-packaged supplement pills are often unregulated and may contain toxins, and be aware that some herbal remedies work better on pw certain anatomy than others, and finally that many herbal remedies considered to increase libido are largely untested on trans folx!

finally, sorry it's taken so long to answer this ask...i'm autistic and have been cataloguing lol. i present to you a list of other blog recs under the cut, organized by general vibe! i've tried to primarily include blogs that do their own posts rather than those who primarily reblog :)

note that my headings may provide some context as to what to expect, but you read at your own risk and each blog will typically have its own trigger warnings addressed in the header/pinned. additionally, i've not tagged some of the ppl below because they prefer that "Men DNI" blogs not interact, and idk if "no cis men" qualifies ahah!

all blogs below are queer- and/or trans-inclusive, if not exclusive! there is no detrans/misgendering, at least I don't think - i don't tend to follow those blogs.

hard kinks (blood, knives, etc; includes primarily-cnc blogs):

@puppy-mommy , who also does general t4t kink content, but does state untagged hard kinks!

@visciousest is someone whose blog i scroll when i'm in a Certain Mood ahah,, i won't elaborate

@hell-hound-bites: just. fuck. would drool on his knife blade.

@snuff-fag: its username should give you fair warning as to how wild its content tends to get, so please browse responsibly.

@condor-bait is taking a break right now, and all my love is with him as he takes care of himself. he made me feel so valid and so fuckable as a young trans person learning to love myself in a new way, and i've always been too shy to tell him how much his content meant to me one-on-one (yes, despite its often-extreme themes!), and he deserves as much time as he needs to heal!

@unwillingfvckpuppy for mostly cnc and medical kinks! if you like his style, but not so much their harder content, he also has a more-tame main blog--i just mainly follow/scroll this one!

@vampvictim: top-tier cnc/intox stuff, plus some great knife/bloodplay :)

@cryptidtid is wonderful and holy shit i follow a lot of hard kink blogs lol. incredible

@cnc-pet: i have been following her for a long ass fucking time lol. they post a lot of really good cnc and stories, but you'll also find a lot of aftercare tips and advice on her blog! i really admire blogs who try to balance horny content with best practices

@dollobotomy

general kinky content:

@excessively-queer . just plain old good shit :) there's a good amt of edging and degradation.

@clouded-king was honestly one of my earlier introductions to the queer/t4t kink community on here and how fucking euphoric it can be :) he posts some hard kinks, but generally it's a balance of a lot of different kinks so read his pinned at your leisure!

@ / cottontailx : just good kinky nsft posts :)

@ / digitalpenetration: often specifically t4t which i love!!

@femmelovefemme can step on me :)

@bigothteddies: could not build this section w/o mentioning him :) they had a big influence on my fantasies for a long time!

@hazelj-xoxo: bigtime want her to cuck me. have followed her across multiple blog deletions lol

@transpidered is forever an icon!

@subspaceemo

@writefinch for great stories and text posts

edging and denial, specifically:

@6irlpet is 1 of my go-to hands-down-pants scroll sessions :)

@droolkink is my inspiration!

@flustersluts does exactly what the name implies lol. a good helping of other kink content too :)

@puppycvnt is a 10/10!

@barkwoofbarkwoofbark: we r denial friends imo!!

@strawbrrysub

@blyssful-abyss

@urhighnessbitch is a big fav <3

non-detrans genderplay:

@butchviolence does amazing butch supremacy stuff and i,,, fucking hell. even just seeing their username puts me in a Particular state of mind ahah. they also post hard kinks so be aware as you proceed!

@mtfdomme: i literally just reblogged from her today lol. tbh i want to be their little stupid pupthing. it's not all transfem supremacy undertones/overtones, but that's what i mainly follow her for, plus just general t4t goodness! also, their general personality? and the way she shuts down people who disrespect their boundaries? huge inspiration for me!

@cuntboydestroyer: take me to the animal shelter and neuter me. good lord.

@the-kind-of-dame is the main inspiration for my recent genderplay post lol

@terfbreaking-tgirl (be warned of dykebreaking if that's an issue for you)

@barbarian-lesbian is my other inspiration for the recent genderplay post

@superiorineveryway

weird asf (/complimentary; my favorite type of shit. robots, ND-focused posts, etc):

@specksizedgoddess has introduced me to things i didn't know, like...existed, and that's saying a lot as one of my special interests is kink! never knew how down bad i was to be a tiny buggirl, nor how much i wanted to be someone's stupid little robot... BIG tw tho: there is snuff and gore content here, so proceed with caution if you don't wanna see that!

@sapphling fucked me up real good with some bird!sub bondage posts awhile back lol

@nobelisha: found them through their ghost cnc post so that's why they're in this category ahah! they don't have a pinned so proceed w awareness :)

@devout-cleric: hierophilia/religion kink, and i'm something of an acolyte of hers :) if you've read this far down you may as well know i'm her Little Lamb anon lol

piss/omo:

@latenightomo

@pissheartmybeloved - their URL makes me crack up every time, plus good content!

@hold-it-a-little-longer - good scenarios/imagines!

@ohmyrashi - (i think) my original intro to omo!

monsterfucking/terato:

@septimus-moonlight was my first real introduction to trans-positive terato and i've never settled for half-fun cis-oriented terato ever since :) mind tags!

@eggedbellies as well!

@bredpun doesn't appear to be active lately but still good for a scroll!

@steamandcream

@of-mutts-and-men

#t4t nsft #asks #gen #denial #h/d #advice #💫 anon

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babyboiboyega · 4 months

Text

Gekko Headcanons #1 : The Cookout

Pairing: Mateo De la Fuente/Gekko x Black!Gn!reader Headcanon: Taking Mateo to a family cookout would include... Content: fluff, profanity Word Count: 2.6k Author's Note: its been toooo long since I've written something, and of course my newest hyperfixation is the thing that gets me to write again LMAO gotta love it y'know? I am very new to the world of Valorant and this character, so please...if any of this seems ooc, kindly let me know. I'm still learning about him, I'm still feeling him out, but I just enjoy the character so much already. I also enjoyed writing this, so I hope y'all enjoy! <3 Tag list: @liyaawrites (aka, the person responsible for this obsession!!)

I wanna start off by saying that the second you mention taking Mateo to meet your family, the boy is geeked out of his mind. Maybe it's in passing during a conversation, or maybe you consciously bring up the topic once you feel it's the right time; either way, it’s met with wide, brown eyes that sparkle in excitement, and thick lips that part on an immediate agreement. Not only does an agreement follow, but he also immediately starts to ask what he should bring. What kind of get-together is it? Does he need to know anything beforehand? How does he need to dress, because he’ll be damned if he shows up underdressed when meeting the family of the person he loves. He only stops worrying when you tell him exactly what the function is – a cookout – and what he’s expected to bring – some dish that your mom/grandmother/auntie or other family member is requesting. And once those questions are answered, he goes straight to worrying about making sure it’s up to their standards. You have no idea why, but your family gives you and him the job of bringing the macaroni (and not any store-bought macaroni- they’ll know the difference). When he learns that it has to be homemade and that its a staple in the entire cookout, he instantly looks up recipes while thinking back to the ones his ma or abuela would use, wanting to put his own spin on it while also wanting to make a good first impression. It gets to the point where you find him up late one night, his phone’s screen illuminating his features from where he lays beside you. He’d turn his phone to you sheepishly, apologizing for the bright light and displaying a page called “how not to make macaroni and cheese” or something along those lines with a sheepish smile.

“Think they’ll like this one?” “Teo…baby…it’s 3 am.” “...you’re right, I should look for another one-”

The days leading up to the cookout are spent with him constantly going on about how excited he is to meet your family – specifically the cousins you’re the closest to and have mentioned before. In response, you warn him that your family can be…a bit much, specifically when someone brings their partner around. They have a tendency to ask too many questions, get a little too comfortable joking around, and are just all around loud and obnoxious sometimes…and he’d only reassure you with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow that not only is his family the same, but he’s so used to being around large families as his used to have get togethers all the time. He’s dealt with it before, and it'd be worth it to deal with it again if it meant he got to meet your folks. Despite the sentiments, you still warn him – especially of that aunt who always likes to make smart-ass comments and loves calling others out despite having her own problems in her life, to which he lets you know that he’s dealt with one of those and he’ll make sure that y’all are far away from that aunt at all times. He would offer to keep you dancing all night just so you had an excuse to not talk to that person, which would only lead to a conversation involving line dances.

Despite Mateo's affinity for the punk/skater aesthetic, I’d like to think that his Hispanic roots have resulted in him having a good sense of rhythm. I also like to think that he listens to a lot of music in his spare time, fostering an appreciation for different genres. With that being said, I think our boy could keep up with the line dances. When you offer to teach him a few just for fun, he’d be excited as hell, his lips curling into a full-blown smile as he’d watch you turn the music on and scroll through the first ‘cookout line dance’ playlist you find. When you find a suitable one and try to teach him, he’d be playful about the entire thing, claiming that he needs you to do it a few times although you know its just so he can see you dance, his eyes lingering heavily on your hips as you do so. And when you finally get him to join you, you realize that he may not have the steps down, but he’s got enough swag and rhythm to keep up and look like he knows what he’s doing, which is enough.

“One more time, princesa- I promise. I’ll get it this time.” “You’re just looking at my ass, Mateo-” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” (with a shit eating grin on his face)

Now…when it gets to the day of the cookout, you two would be up pretty early, going to get the supplies to make the macaroni before starting on it at home. He’d want to help so badly, but he’d also have no problem getting your input on it – after all, it is your family and you know how they usually like their macaroni. But he’d also insist on doing most of it himself which would result in about a few hours of him moving around the kitchen with a focused look on his face. His focus is only broken by you checking in on him, it instantly changing to a cocky, yet playful, smirk as he would nod to the pan that’s in the oven.

“How’s it goin, baby?” “Look at that masterpiece and tell me how it’s goin, mi carino. You see that golden brown on the top, you smell that delicious, scrumptious, decadent-” “Aaaalright, that’s enough-”

You know I have to mention the process of picking out outfits. I absolutely believe that Mateo would not only be down for, but would love being one of those couples that wears complimenting outfits. Not matching completely, but maybe having one article of clothing that’s the same color or maybe even wearing the same accessories. You two have too much personality and style to limit yourselves to wearing the exact same thing when going out, so he would love to wear complimenting outfits. He’d always make sure to pick colors that you enjoy wearing despite thinking that you look beautiful in every color.

“What about green?” “Oh…well…you know I don’t exactly look the best in green, baby.” “I wholeheartedly disagree, but we can look for something else, mi amor. No problem-”

I think that he’d be so invested in making sure y’all look good that he’d kind of forget about the macaroni that's in the oven. You can’t even blame him, because you’d be able to see the excitement radiating off of him as he gets ready, so you’d just gently, but amusedly, remind him.

“Teo.” “Yeah?” “Your macaroni-” “Mierda- my macaroni-!”

His attention would instantly switch to the macaroni, so much so that he’d still be standing in the kitchen, his eyes on the oven when you walk in fully dressed with Wingman trailing behind you, Mateo’s shirt in his beak as he chirps and trills. You wouldn’t be able to understand him, but you don’t really have to to understand the comedic radivore’s noises. You’d only be able to nod and agree with the little guy as you both watch Mateo hurriedly throw on his shirt before taking out the macaroni.

Now…lets get to the cookout itself. He’d hear the music and chatter immediately after stepping out of the car and would just look at you with a smile and excited eyes, offering to take the dish with one hand and your hand with the other. You’d be able to see that recognition in his eyes, the myriad of sounds that signify a family fellowship being ever so familiar to him. Homeboy would walk in the door with a wide and inviting smile, greeting people politely while also showing that he can be rather extroverted when he wants to be. Of course, he gets the typical ‘this must be yo lil friend’ from your family members, but he takes it in stride. But while taking it all in stride, he’d also make sure to kiss your cheek, your forehead, hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist– anything to show that the words ‘lil friend’ are just a title your family members have given him, and that the truth is he’s yours.

He’d show the macaroni to the family member(s) in charge of the food, watching with baited breath as they take the foil off of the top, their eyes looking at the golden-brown cheese on top before looking up at you two with a smile.

“Oooh, this looks good, Y/N.” “Actually, Mateo made it. I just helped him when he needed it; it was all him.”

He’d absolutely be geeked when they turn to him with an impressed look, their smile widening as they set it on the table with the rest of the food. And if you thought he had a big head when being told that it looked good, it’s nothing compared to when the first family member comes up and tells him that it tasted good. Chile, you’d never hear the end of it…though you don’t want to. It’d be endearing and sweet that he takes so much pride in making something your family enjoys. And when it comes to him actually eating the food prepared, he would not hold his appreciation back. There’d be a lot of ‘who made this’, followed by just as many ‘dios mio’s as he can dish out. The same goes for the dessert portion, especially the homemade pound cakes from your family members. Yeah, he’d have no problem asking for a to-go box; one for food, and one for dessert.

Throughout the duration of the cookout, he’d find himself constantly in conversation with someone from your family, whether it be because he had been pulled into a conversation, or whether it was because someone approached him with the intent of asking questions. Either way, Mateo would be game for any question asked, usually answering with an air of confidence, friendliness, and humor that made others love him instantly. When asked questions about you two’s relationship, he’d be quick and incredibly willing to answer, his eyes glancing at you adoringly as he does so with a smile on his face. It’d get to a point where you would have to ‘rescue’ him from more questions, citing that you wanted to dance just to get him away from your family member(s). And he’d happily let you pull him away, however, not before promising the uncles gathered around a table that he’d play spades with them the next round.

At some point in the night, you’d lose him for a few minutes, coming back to his empty seat after fixing a plate of dessert for both of you, and after scouring the yard, hoping that he hasn’t gotten himself into a less than pleasant conversation, you finally find him. Except he isn’t in a conversation- not with an adult, anyway. No, he’s seated in the yard, not too far at all from the kids table, smiling widely as the kids from your family gather around him. Their hands reach for and gently run over his hair, the dyed shapes and colors instantly catching their attention as they speak over each other, asking him questions.

“Why’d you do that to your hair?” “Did it hurt? Why’d you pick spots?” “My mama says people who dye their hair like that don’t want a job.” “Can I do that to my hair?”

You’d only be able to watch in fondness for a few minutes as he struggles to answer their questions, his facial expression showing exactly how much he enjoyed being the center of attention for the kids. It would get to a point where he’d look up at you with an expression that screamed for help despite the smile still on his face, and you wouldn’t hesitate in rescuing him. You’d never seen Mateo around kids before now, but going off of the vibes and interactions you’d see, it’d be easy to come to the conclusion that he’s pretty okay with kids. Because of his chill demeanor, not only is he seen as ‘cool’ to the youngins, but he’s also easy to interact with. It would certainly help that he’s got a little crew of adorable creatures who are intelligent enough to interact carefully with the kids. There’d be peels of laughter and excited chatter as Wingman does a trick when prompted by Mateo. There’d also be a time where Wingman turns to Mateo, chirping quickly and constantly looking back at the kids…and after a short conversation between the two, he’d probably smile, nodding his head towards the kids with a ‘have fun, be careful’. That’d be the only thing Wingman needs to hear before turning and joining the group of kids in their activities, the laughter being a constant noise as long as the creature is interacting with them.

When it gets to the end of the night and people start filtering out of the yard, he’d check in with you, asking you if you’re tired or if you still want to hang around with a look of understanding for whatever answer you give. It's only when you smile tiredly and sheepishly at him that he’d nod with a smile, telling you that maybe it's time to go. It wouldn’t be long before you two have a bag with your to-go boxes in them, making your rounds with your family members and saying goodnight. He’d leave Wingman to play with the remaining kids until it’d be time to go, waving him over once you two are ready to leave. (You can’t help but feel like you two have your own little family, and the earlier sight of him interacting with the kids certainly adds fuel to that thought).

The ride home would be spent going over certain conversations and interactions that had happened during the night, showing just how attentive Mateo had been the entire night. You’d also learn of some of the conversations he’d had when you weren’t around…and he’d instantly wave away your apologies for the nature of those conversations, an easygoing and amused smile on his face as he does so.

“Please tell me she did not say that to you- I’m so sorry, love-” “No need to say sorry. It was pretty funny, so its okay, mi cielito. So…you tried to turn the speed all the way up on the treadmill, yeah?” “Yeah, that’s enough of that-”

To put it simply: Mateo would be ecstatic that he not only got to spend an entire day with you and your family, but that he got to see how you interact with your family. It’s truly nothing like seeing the love of your life in their safe space with people they trust. He could’ve sat and watched you speak to cousins, aunties, uncles, whoever else and would’ve been completely satisfied. He’d go to bed thinking about the glow you had on your face as you spoke to family members you’d missed, and how he’d heard and seen you genuinely laugh with cousins when recounting old stories, and how you and your family connected over food, music, and fellowship...and yeah, he’d have to admit to himself in the middle of the night, while holding you close, that he couldn’t wait to have that with you in the future.

A/N: I hope that was fun to read, it was certainly fun to write! Once again, this is my first time writing for this character that I just found out about like...two weeks ago, y'all...be patient with me while I'm learning. BUT I'm gonna really try to write more this summer because I definitely won't have time to in the fall, so keep an eye out!

#gekko #gekko valorant #gekko x reader #gekko x you #valorant #valorant gekko #Mateo Armendáriz De la Fuente #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #gekko oneshot #gekko headcanons #gekko fanfic #gekko oneshots #valorant headcanons #valorant oneshots #valorant fanfiction #black authors #black fanartists

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charmandabear · 10 months

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

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Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs.

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him.

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes.

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods.

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief.

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen.

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors.

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it.

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment.

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk.

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head.

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand.

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once.

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters.

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place.

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length.

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next.

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit.

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly.

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously.

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips.

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact.

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers.

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation.

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation.

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly.

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting.

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion.

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm.

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table.

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug.

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

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phightinghottakes · 2 months

Note

I might have ranted about this before but I can't find my old anon tag nor my old posts so. 🐊 anon from now on for whatever else I need to rant abt on here.

this is all mostly me ranting about forced inclusivity and queer stuff (coming from a poly, pan person) so if you need to skip over this, you've been warned

Firstly, I absolutely despise Vinedeeri. It feels like it only exists because "uhh woman and woman haha they're the few woman characters in the game lets ship them because yuri" SHUT UP!! Ships used to have an interesting dynamic, they used to have substance and angst and fluff in every fandom I was in, all the ships I used to see were because they were so interesting and created so many different scenarios.

Instead, what I see most of in the phighting community and similar fandoms is "toxic yuri/yaoi!" "I love my yaoi" "gay ppl" and whatnot. Can people not ship things that aren't queer anymore? Can people not ship things for a dynamic instead of for sexuality?

It genuinely baffles me that Trafficdeeri is considered a rarepair. Don't they literally have interactions in canon?? Isn't Lightblox like an adopted daughter to Traffic?? And yet most of the fandom prefers "haha yuri woman x woman" over good content for a wholesome narrative on found family and adoption and whatnot.

Also I prefer Hyperzuka over Hypertana. I've had several people look at me weird for this one and I genuinely still feel a bit uncomfortable saying I ship the two because of that because it was the kind of reaction being a proshipper gives you, but as far as I'm aware they're fine to ship? Feel free to correct me on if there's anything I'm missing, but I just find the kind of "alcoholic mess x previous alcoholic mess" dynamic more compelling than "alcoholic mess with issues x alcoholic mess with issues" regardless of whether it's being interpreted as platonic or romantic.

Also also, I don't like Scythe being made POC. I find making a character black for inclusivity kind of silly, but even moreso insulting when it's, oh, you know, one of the only characters with a different skintone?? What, is being tan not "inclusive" enough? Did it not appeal to the fandom enough? Was having a character that was tan in a way that'd fit the canon not good enough? I dislike race swapping in general, but it's just. So much more irritating when it's taking away the only tan character the game had. ffs real inclusivity should live up to it's name, it should be inclusive not "appealing to the minority" it should be inclusive for everyone. The minority that needs it, the minority that's harassed, the minority that barely speaks up about it. Not just one group. Please. God. also she's a serial killer that's kind of an issue too liike. out of all the characters you had to pick 1: the serial killer and 2: the only playable character with a different skintone

I would also like to say I absolutely hate she/her subspace. I genuinely do not get why someone would look at an insane scientist that'd probably laugh at torturing people and go "Aww, she's so quirky" or whatever. It genuinely confuses me beyond belief how she/her subspace is such a widely accepted headcanon. What part of probably-capitalist mad scientist that invented hundreds of machines made for war and ruthless killing says "girlypop twink" to you??

And lastly, this game has boring characters when it tries to make them interesting, ironically enough. Some of the most interesting characters to me (outside of subspace) are Vine Staff and Shuriken just because of how many different angles you could take with the core of their character and how... Fundamentally simple they are. They're siblings, they have a clear theme, they're kind of angst-free characters outside of Vine's curse, and they have a strong bond. It's not a lot, but it's all that you need for a lot of interesting content. On the contrary, take Broker and Scythe- two relatively safe picks to hate on. They're part of a cult, Scythe is a serial killer, Broker has some sorts of phone imagery as far as I'm aware, and the cult has something something eyes something I genuinely can't remember. It's kind of more? It's meant to be more, at least. And yet I can't figure out anything interesting about this other than Broker's theme with phones that's kind of neat but the lore does nothing with that. And the eye stuff.. well, yeah, it has potential but it's just so, so underdeveloped. In trying to make the cult so much more it's ended up with so many concepts and so few that are actually solid, in comparison to characters that are simpler. Hell, look at Boombox! He's also a pretty simple character, but he's easy to enjoy too. And there's also the whole thing with him being able to tell something's up with Subspace. Maybe I just read into details a lot, but oh well.

In case you couldn't tell, I like healthy characters who's strength is small fun facts and details.

-Sincerely, 🐊 Anon.

#phighting hot takes #phighting!#phighting roblox #roblox phighting #phighting #hot take #🐊 anon

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lucky-clover-gazette · 3 months

Text

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 17

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

If Damen was rougher than he needed to be, it was because he didn’t approve of this plan. Hearing it described, he’d felt as though his body was under a weight, a hard pressure. Now he released Enguerran in the tent and watched him get to his feet without helping him. Enguerran had a wound in his side that still leaked blood. Laurent, entering the tent, pulled off his helm, and Damen saw what Enguerran saw: a golden prince with his armour covered in blood, his hair sweat-dampened, his eyes unsparing. The wound in Enguerran’s side had come from Laurent’s blade; the blood on Laurent’s armour was Enguerran’s.

lamen back at it with the strategic improv. we love to see it

He wanted no part of what was about to unfold.

support your boyfriend’s tactical theatrics, damen. let laurent get a little silly with it

‘I see. So you need me to get inside Ravenel. That is the real reason I am alive. You expect me to betray the people I have served for ten years.’ ‘To get inside Ravenel? My dear Enguerran, I’m afraid you are quite mistaken.’ Laurent’s gaze travelled over Enguerran again, his blue eyes cold. ‘I don’t need you,’ said Laurent. ‘I just need your clothes.’

i love the little moments where laurent explains his plan with like. total seriousness. but the plan itself is something that would happen in a dungeons and dragons game or animated film.

Damen was repelled by the disguise. He had argued against it. The deception was wrong, the pretence of friendship.

going crazy with that nice vs. good theme lately damen. i wonder if there’s some other reason you’re particularly opposed to the idea of disguising oneself and poisoning a friendship with deception at the moment

The brazen audacity of this was characteristic of Laurent, though dressing up his entire troop was on a different scale to walking into a small town inn with a sapphire in his ear, batting his lashes. It was one thing to disguise yourself, another to force your whole army to do it.

As the heavy latticed iron beetled above their heads, Damen found himself wanting it, wanting disruption, a cry of outrage, or of challenge, wanting it as a release to this—feeling. Traitor. Stop. But none came. Of course it didn’t. Of course the men of Ravenel welcomed them, believing them to be friends. Of course they trusted in the face of a deception, leaving themselves wide open.

this is sooooo mean (and clever) of pacat, given the interpersonal stuff between damen and laurent rn

Barrels were upended into a courtyard fountain, so that men could scoop wine out as they pleased.

love this detail

He dispatched men to take Touars’s nine-year-old son Thevenin and hold him under house arrest. Laurent was developing quite a collection of sons.

well someone has to be nice to children in this fucked up world

Then Laurent turned and saw him, and the pressure in his chest grew like pain as Laurent greeted him, half-stripped and bright-eyed. ‘How do you like my fort?’

laurent is especially fascinating as things really heat up between him and damen. it’s part cognitive dissonance, but also… i think damen has changed his mind. i don’t think laurent hates damen anymore. i think everything that seems to have developed between them, actually has developed both ways. even if laurent goes back on it later, and says mean things, damen has at this point completely changed laurent’s initial perception of him. damen is damen, who laurent knows and trusts, and not damianos. that’s where the cognitive dissonance comes in—not in any kind of false impression of damen himself. it’s, again, sad in a different way to read with the context i have. because laurent is being true here, despite the lie, and i just wish they could come by this with total honestly. but that would never have been possible for them, with their history. and the auguste thing will have to be reckoned with, eventually. laurent just has it on ice for now.

All right,’ said Laurent. ‘You see? I’m learning to take your advice.’ He spoke with an unselfconscious little smile that was wholly new.

i don’t think laurent is enjoying damen’s turmoil. i don’t even think he notices it. while he definitely respects damen, laurent still doesn’t expect him to stay past the point of his given freedom. and that’s why he flirts, and is friendly, and fucks him, despite the auguste thing. because it all ends tomorrow anyway, by damen’s choice. so laurent might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

of course, laurent underestimates damen’s devotion, as usual. even when he has sex with damen, i’m sure laurent thinks damen is counting it as just another conquest that he’ll forget about the day after. so it doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t have to matter—which good, because if it did matter to damen, it would matter SO MUCH to laurent as well. and laurent knows that his brother’s killer can’t matter to him, because that would be insane. so it’s good that damen just sees him as 1) partaking in an agreement that he (damen) will leave as soon as he’s freed and 2) a piece of ass. yep. that’s definitely it, laurent. good job.

He said, ‘What will you do next?’ ‘Bathe,’ answered Laurent, in a tone that said he knew perfectly well what Damen had meant, ‘and change into something that’s not made of metal. You should do the same. I had the servants lay out some clothing for you that befits your new station. Very Veretian, you’ll hate it. I have something else for you as well.’ He turned back in time to see Laurent move briefly to pick up a half-circle of metal from a small table by the wall. It felt like the slow push of a spear into his body, the awful unfolding inevitability of it, in front of servants, in this small, intimate room. ‘I didn’t have time to give this to you before the battle,’ said Laurent.

ohhh laurent’s going full delusional here, riding the high of his previous act. but this isn’t an act, not really. but it has to be an act, for laurent to be okay with it. just how laurent performed cruelty in book 1 with hate in his heart, he’s performing affection here with love in his heart. but it can’t be true—it can’t NOT be in some ways a performance, and laurent has made sure of that by keeping the lie going for this long. this man is in a heaven/hell of his own design. it’s honestly impressive how deeply he manages to complicate things for himself. he made his own bed and now he’s getting fucked in it

The last thing he heard was Laurent saying, ‘See to my Captain. Tonight he is to have anything that he asks for.’

HELL yeah he is

‘We are lucky the Prince’s messenger got through with his signet ring,’ Damen acknowledged. ‘What messenger?’ said Torveld.

lmaooo i think the messenger was about loyse’s whole reveal? like VERY long game?

‘I’m a Captain through your help. I owe you a great deal.’ Shyly, after a pause: ‘I told you that I would repay you. You did so much to help me in the palace. And . . .’ Erasmus hesitated, looking over at Torveld. When Torveld nodded that he should speak, he lifted his chin, uncharacteristically. ‘And I didn’t like the Regent. He burnt my leg.’ Torveld gave him a proud look, and Erasmus flushed and made obeisance again with perfect form.

eugh i haaaaaate the way the akielion slaves talk. it’s especially jarring after not having to see them for like an entire book. i know it’s supposed to be off-putting though so job well done i guess

Damen repressed another instinct to tell him to stand up.

buddy you're so close don't repress it!

He looked at Erasmus, the demure limbs and the lowered lashes. He had bedded slaves like this, as pliant in bed as they were out of it. He remembered enjoying it, but the memory was distant, as though it belonged to someone else. Erasmus was pretty, he could see that. Erasmus, he recalled, had been trained for him. He would be obedient to every order, intuit every whim, willingly. Damen turned his eyes to Laurent. A picture of cool, difficult distance confronted him. Laurent sat in brief conversation, wrist balanced on the edge of the great table, fingertips resting on the base of a goblet. From the severe, straight-backed posture to the impersonal grace of his cupped yellow head; from his detached blue eyes to the arrogance of his cheekbones, Laurent was complicated and contradictory, and Damen could look nowhere else.

LET'S GOOOOOO

As though responding to some instinct, Laurent looked up and met Damen’s eyes, and in the next moment Laurent was rising and making his way over.

‘It can wait. You just won me a fort,’ said Laurent. ‘Let me spoil you a little.’

yeah he’s just going all out he knows it’s over tomorrow nothing matters

‘That wasn’t a play against my uncle. That was a play against Nicaise. Boys are easy. At thirteen,’ said Laurent, ‘you could have led me around by the nose.’ ‘I can’t believe you were ever easy.’

an untraumatized 13 year old laurent would have been soooooo fucking weird around damen

‘Torveld tells me that in Akielos, it’s the slave who feeds the master.’ ‘That’s right.’ ‘Then you can’t have any objection,’ said Laurent, picking up the morsel, and lifting it.

laurent i think you forgot who’s the sl—you know what it’s fine they’re roleplaying again

He took a second bite. He didn’t look at the food, he looked at Laurent, at the way he held himself, always so controlled, so that all of his reactions were subtle, his blue eyes difficult to read, but not cold. He could see that Laurent was pleased, that he was enjoying the acquiescence for its rarity, its exclusivity. It felt like he was on the edge of understanding, as though Laurent was coming into view for the first time.

laurent really just said “fuck it i’ve got one night left time to be a freak about it”

Damen’s attention was on Laurent’s ivory and gold colouring, the overfine skin, the last traces of bruising from where he’d been tied up and hit. Damen’s gaze travelled, inch by inch, taking in the proud lift of his chin, the uncooperative eyes, the arch of his cheekbone, and dropping back down to his mouth. His sweet, vicious mouth.

Everything would be simple in the morning.

definitely

‘I thought you helped them out of compassion.’ ‘No, you didn’t,’ said Laurent.

He’d never stood against his father for anything. He’d never needed to, so closely had their values aligned.

damen please keep pulling at this thread and think about why that might be

‘I never questioned the way my father saw the world. It was enough for me to be the kind of son he was proud of. I could never bring shame to his memory, but for the first time I realise I don’t want to be . . .’ His kind of King.

YESSS GOOD JOB DAMEN

Father, I can beat him, he’d said, and he’d ridden out and returned to a hero’s welcome, to have his armour stripped by servants, to have his father greet him with pride. He remembered that night, all those nights, the galvanising power of his father’s expansionist victories, the approbation, as success flowed from success. He had not thought about the way it had played out on the other side of the field. When this game began, I was younger. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Damen.

the apology for auguste… ohhhhh my god. damen you’re having a character development!!!! you’re questioning things!!!!

Laurent gave him a strange look. ‘Why would you apologise to me?’

okay shut up let him have this you know why

He said, ‘I didn’t understand what being King meant to you.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘An end to fighting.’

‘I wish it could have been different between us, I wish I could have behaved to you with more honour. I want you to know that you will have a friend across the border, whatever happens tomorrow, whatever happens to both of us.’

damen you behaved with an insane amount of honor. and don’t make promises you can’t keep

‘Friends,’ said Laurent. ‘Is that what we are?’ Laurent’s voice was tightly knotted, as though the answer was obvious; as though it was as obvious as what was happening between them, the air disappearing, mote by mote.

Damen said, with helpless honesty, ‘Laurent, I am your slave.’ The words laid him open, truth exposed in the space between them. He wanted to prove it, as though, inarticulate, he could make up for what divided them.

my reading of this line is that damen is admitting his metaphorical devotion to laurent. like forget the cuffs or whatever, he’s just helplessly down bad. not suuuure if that’s the point of the line, though. the last line also implies that he wants to be with laurent as if they're equals, despite the power imbalance, soooo badly that he doesn't even care about the power imbalance

The touch he offered was accepted as it had not been last time, fingers gentle on Laurent’s jaw, thumb passing over his cheekbone, soft. Laurent’s controlled body was hard with tension, his rapid pulse urgent for flight, but he closed his eyes in the last seconds before it happened. Damen’s palm slid over Laurent’s warm nape; slowly, very slowly, making his height an offering, not a threat, Damen leaned in and kissed Laurent on the mouth. The kiss was barely a suggestion of itself, with no yielding of the rigidity in Laurent, but the first kiss became a second, after a fraction of parting in which Damen felt the flicker of Laurent’s shallow breathing against his own lips.

all the little details of laurent’s reactions continue to really touch me. for reasons previously mentioned. the contrast of words like “gentle” and soft” with “tension” and “rigidity” is very good

It felt, in all the lies between them, as if this was the only true thing. It didn’t matter that he was leaving tomorrow. He felt remade with the desire to give Laurent this: to give him all he would allow, and to ask for nothing, this careful threshold something to be savoured because it was all Laurent would let himself have.

a kingdom or this babyyyyyyyyy

do you think laurent is thinking something similar? it seems like he’s been thinking that all evening. this is the only true thing, and damen may be leaving tomorrow, but it isn’t tomorrow yet

They broke apart at the voice, the burst of sound, of nearby footsteps. A head was cresting the stone steps. Damen took a step backwards, his stomach twisting. It was Jord.

is this a lamen hr complaint? they did go somewhere private, it’s more of a jord hr complaint, like he’s at fault here. i won’t count it.

#LAMEN FIRST KISS YAYYYY #sam reads capri #captive prince #prince's gambit #lamen #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #capri

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tommykinard6 · 5 months

Note

could you explain briefly how the omegaverse work and why is eddie one? thank you :)

Gladly! I shall break it down as much as possible.

Omegaverse is a take on wolf pack dynamics. This can be literal, with wolf characters or werewolves. It can also be when the characters are fully human or have very distant wolf ancestry.

There’s Alpha, Beta, Omega, and sometimes non presenters, though not all authors write with non presenters. These are called secondary genders. Primary genders, such as male or female, have no impact on secondary genders in most verses. Non presenters never take a secondary gender or present much later in life. Presentation usually happens in the teen years or the person is born already presented. Presented is another term for secondary puberty, when the secondary gender matures and becomes obvious.

Now I shall keep this post SFW, but I can do an explanation on NSFW too if it’s wanted! Just let me know!

The alpha is generally the protective leader, the dominant one, sometimes literally the pack leader. In most fics, they are the partner with most societal pull and authority.

Betas are the neutrals. They make great peacekeepers, healers, advisors. Alphas and omegas are generally affected more by scents and emotions than betas.

Omegas are the caretakers and the heart of the “pack”. They’re the quiet engine that make the world go round.

Now, traditionally, alphas seem to take more stereotypical male roles and omegas take more stereotypically female roles, regardless of primary gender. That isn’t always true! But is a common theme.

Let me explain scents real quick. Basically every presented alpha/omega has a distinctive scent. Betas might too, but that varies. Betas also might not be able to smell scents as well as alphas and omegas. These scents can be vague, like smoky, or detailed, like apple pie with a hint of lemon.

((Warning for mention of mpreg: I’ll mark when it ends))

Each dynamic can be any primary gender. It’s up to the author how they want that gender to cross over. Are female alphas able to get omegas pregnant? Can female alphas get pregnant? Can male omegas get pregnant or get someone else pregnant?

((Ends here))

Betas tend to follow the biological rules of primary genders.

((Brief mention of dub-con/non-con as a theme. No graphic description within))

Now, it’s worth knowing before anyone non-experienced in A/B/O goes looking that sometimes, dub-con and non-con are themes in fics. That’s because alphas experience ruts and omegas experience heats and in a rut or a heat, the person can’t consent unless they already established consent beforehand. They’re not technically in their right mind.

((Finishes here))

That’s part of why omegaverse gets a bad rap.

I pride myself in writing fully consensual and enthusiastic A/B/O content, at least between the main ship. It’s absolutely possible to do. Tagging is important! Be sure to utilize filters if you want to avoid stuff when you go looking.

Now, for why I see Eddie as an omega.

It started partially because I don’t see Buck as an omega and I was and still am a Buddie shipper. I definitely saw him as an alpha figure. It’s also partially because of the top/bottom dynamic. Stereotypically, alphas are tops and omegas are bottoms. THIS IS NOT ALWAYS TRUE. You can write it however you want! That’s how I prefer to write, though.

I see Buck as a top/dom and Eddie as a bottom/sub. That man just needs to let go and get out of his head. He needs to be taken care of and pampered. Buck loves to take care of people and spoil them. Besides, I’m a bit of a slut for a size difference.

I don’t do well in explaining how or why a character is a bottom/omega to me; it’s sort of just a feeling. But hopefully, that explains it well enough!

Quick note to add that any dynamic can have any relationship. Alpha/alpha, alpha/beta, beta/beta, beta/omega, omega/omega are all alternatives to the classic alpha/omega pairing.

I did the best I could, but please let me know if you have further questions!

Edit to add: he’s canonically a nester and while that means something different in A/B/O…VINDICATION

#911 abc #9-1-1 #911 show #evan buckley #eddie diaz #omega eddie diaz #alpha Evan Buckley #a/b/o #explanation of a/b/o #omegaverse #a/b/o verse #tk6 talks a/b/o #tk6 answers

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kyndredravenstories · 29 days

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 4

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148517998#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3

I'm moving.

Floating.

But, everything around me is still.

My senses, too.

Still numb.

Still cold.

Still blind.

Breathing is a chore. I struggle to expand my lungs. If I pause, I don't think I'll ever breathe again.

Too hard. Maybe I should just stop trying.

The darkness tempts.

The void.

But above me, a murder of crows cries out in the night.

Cawing. Clamoring. Shrieking.

After this battle, they should have plenty of corpses to feast on. So, why clamor? Why cry out to the moon in a bloodthirsty song?

Stupid birds.

How terribly annoying.

Just loud enough to keep me from sinking into nothingness.

A shadow looms nearby. I sense it. In the emptiness, it calls to me. And, I can't help but answer. I reach for it, but I can't see. I need to open my eyes. If I don't, then I can't find him.

I try.

I struggle, blinking against a haze of color and motion.

Something warm against my cheek. A voice is speaking. Deep. Rumbling. Like the purring of a lion.

The front of my body is hot while my back is freezing.

The voice keeps speaking, and I finally recognize it.

Sylus.

I try to call for him, but my lips are numb. My voice is thinner than air.

The warmth against my cheek moves to the top of my head. Sliding over my hair then resting beneath my chin. It's a familiar calloused hand. Fingers tip up my face.

Sylus's face swims into view. It's night, and it's dark; pitch black. Yet, his face is perfectly illuminated in the wan evening glow. A frightening and bewitching visage. His eyes blaze as they look down at me. Moonlight paints his hair a gleaming white; it shines as it frames his temples.

"Sylus," I croak out.

Just saying that one word takes everything out of me.

His expression is devoid of anything, yet the line of his mouth speaks of thinly veiled anger.

What was he doing here? Wasn't he returning to N109 for some dangerous errand?

I feel like I'm floating again. The ground beneath me shifts. I smell gun oil mixed with LUMINIS. Realization grips me. I'm draped over someone's back.

"Get her out of here, Luke," Sylus commands without breaking our eye contact.

"Yes, Boss."

The LUMINIS burns my skin. It stings like biting acid, trapped between my front and Luke's back.

With a sudden gasp, I panic. Start to squirm.

"No," I whisper. "Don't...touch me."

"Whoa, lady, calm down would you?" Luke grumbles beneath me, his grip tightening on the backs of my legs. Pain slams into me with the force of a grenade. The more I move, the more it hurts. Everywhere. But, I persist. Doesn't he know? Doesn't he know the LUMINIS will kill him if it touches him?

I keep fighting against his hold. "Poison..." I choke out. "It'll get on you..."

"Ellara."

Just my name. Said in a tone that brooks no disobedience. A threat and a command all in one. From Sylus, it's a decree. I stop moving. I've only heard him say my name a handful of times. I turn my head to look at him; the angry line of his mouth persists. His eyes demand my compliance, and I don't have it in me to resist. My body goes limp.

Sylus steps back, one hand resting in his pocket. Black and crimson gathers around him like a cloud of malice and fury. His eyes soften, just for a moment. "Luke and Kieran will take you somewhere safe. Wait for me."

I close my eyes. Keeping them open is just too hard.

"Hang on tight, lady," Luke says from somewhere very very far away.

"She can't, Luke," Kieran chides. "Her shoulder's busted."

Movement again as Luke shifts his weight between his feet. Then he jumps, and the world dips and sways. The motion is somehow comforting. Perhaps I should be scared of these two men. I've seen their ruthlessness first hand. But, Sylus trusts them with my life, and that's good enough for me.

"You staying somewhere close by, Lady?" Luke asks.

"Boss said not to go to the hotel," Kieran cuts in. "Need to stop the bleeding or he'll have our hides."

"The Tub then?" Luke offers.

"Good thinking."

From there, I lose track of the conversation. They chatter about some nonsense I can't understand. Something tickles right under my nose and the back of my throat. I cough and taste blood. Looks like the LUMINIS is running through my system.

"Oi, Lady," Kieran pats my cheek. "What's going on with you?"

"Poison," I mumble, nearing delirium. "Wash...off..."

"Definitely the Tub, then," Luke says beneath me.

It's the last thing I hear for a while.

With the freezing winds comes the first snow of the year. It comes down hard and fast, blanketing the veranda in white and giving the scene an interesting kind of contrast.

Sylus watches Luke and Kieran disappear into the shadows of the night with forced dispassion. He's leaving something precious to him with a pair of mentally unstable murderers. Yet, aside from at his own side, there is no safer place for Ellara now.

Particularly now that Noxis has found her.

With the twins, she is in good hands. His masked monsters are heartless, and in that savagery lies unwavering loyalty. Beasts can only be controlled by fear of something stronger than them. In knowing that there exists no greater power than his own, Luke and Kieran choose to serve Sylus as their leader. They are well aware of the resources at his command, and they will do what they must to ensure the woman survives until their master can return.

Pondering over it now serves no purpose, so he releases all concern for her wellbeing.

There is business to be concluded here tonight, a pathetic little rebellion he should have squashed months ago.

As the snow covers everything around him, Sylus's true hunt begins. He turns on his heel, his crimson eyes aglow with bloodlust, a crooked smile gracing his striking features. With both hands in his pockets, he strides across the veranda, stepping over mangled bodies to move to a group of huddled men moaning and crying as they cower in terror. A pitch black mist surrounds them, holding them captive.

Above, Mephisto's greedy crows cry out to feast, their hunger insatiable.

Blood splats and spatters around Sylus's shoes as he takes each step, mixing into a red slush as he walks. And with each stride, more and more black mist gathers around him. Like a snake, it rises up and strikes, wrapping phantom claws and hands around one of the men and lifting him into the air. The man screams in abject horror, foaming at the mouth when the mist begins to break and snap his fingers one by one. The same filthy fingers that hit a certain Hunter in the head with a club.

An eye for an eye.

Now if only Ellara could grasp the concept.

Had she aimed for vitals with her shots, this night might have ended altogether differently. She'd always been too soft. Too merciful. Even then.

Glancing down at the others, his expression is one of disinterest. He's used to cowards shaking and begging before him. Why are humans always so predictable?

"I have some questions," he says. "Answers will be rewarded with less pain." The man in the grasp of the mist begs for his life, but his sputtering is not the response Sylus needs. When the coward is used up, he throws his lifeless body aside and moves to the next. "Who will volunteer?"

"Help us!" the second man shrieks as the mist drags him backwards by his ankles. "Malakai! Please help us!"

The wind picks up speed, scattering the crows circling above. Sylus looks towards the roof of the Mythe, his lips curling into an amused smirk when he sees a lone silhouette crouched there.

"There you are," he says. "How many more of your pawns should I kill before you decide to greet me?" Sylus smiles, his hands still in his pockets. "Or do I need to burn this anthill to the ground to get to you?"

The figure jumps down, and as it lands, the very ground shakes. The air shudders. A man straightens and stands tall, dressed in dark military armor. Sleek metal covers vulnerable points of his body, including his knees and parts of his gloves. He removes his hood and mask, revealing smoldering violet eyes and onyx hair.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Malakai Noxis?" Sylus asks.

"I'm humbled you remember me," Malakai replies with a sneer. He bows mockingly.

"You've certainly made a nuisance of yourself." Taking a step forward, Sylus crushes a bunch of glass shards under his foot. "This game you're playing with Evol disrupters and false Protocores has become difficult to ignore."

Malakai chuckles. "Oh? I'm honored. It's just a side project, really."

Sylus strokes his chin. "And yet, I don't recall giving you permission to operate on my turf."

"You have no jurisdiction outside N109, Sylus. The rules are different here." His gives a toxic grimace, eyes burning with malice.

"Malakai!" the men in Sylus's grasp scream. "Please help us!" The man's sneer deepens, a shadow crossing his face. Before the captives can say another word, something hisses as it wraps around their bodies. With a series of crunches and pops, the men are crushed like tin cans in a metal press. Blood sprays onto the snow and the other prisoners. They cry out in fear and cower. More screams as the other men meet the same end as their comrades.

Sylus watches carefully, analyzing, memorizing. This is a blatant display of power. Malakai wants him to know that his Evol has grown much stronger than before. Amusing, really. What a hopeless fool. No matter how strong his Evol grows, Malakai could never hope to measure up to him.

"If you think I'll give you any scrap of territory out here, you've got some surprises coming," Malakai scowls.

Sylus's smile never wavers even as Malakai finally attacks. The man sends a massive wave of force flying towards Sylus. It uproots half of the veranda with its might. Splintered wood and debris are launched into the air. Invisible hands grip the larger pieces and use them as weapons, firing them in Sylus's direction. But, none of it even ruffles Sylus's clothes. As the shockwaves and hurtling pieces of wood and metal pass him, a shield of black mist keeps him protected.

In the aftermath, Malakai stands still, fury marring his features. His fists are clenched at his side. The air fills with screams of the Mythe's patrons as people run out of the building in a stampede. The gun fight and now this must have been a catalyst to cause mass panic. Their centerpiece destroyed, their auction thwarted, and much of their manpower extinguished - this could not have been a worse night for Noxis.

And still, it was not enough. Sylus had neglected these upstarts long enough, and now Ellara was paying the price. Tonight would be their last, once and for all.

More men funnel out of the doorways to the veranda. At Malakai's command, they open fire. Blasters, guns, and rifles blast and tear apart the quiet snowy eve. Bullets of all shapes and sizes soar through the air. Ignoring the ensuing chaos, Malakai lifts his arms. With a howling and groaning of shattered wood and rending metal, he lifts a colossal chunk of the roof off the building. With a flick of his wrist, he rips it completely off and away. Another gesture and the massive thing flies towards Sylus. As it's hurtling in his direction, black mist wraps around the object and dyes it blood red. None of the bullets hit their mark, and by the time the other object reaches Sylus's shield, it's burned to a crisp. A snap of Sylus's fingers finishes it off, transforming the rooftop into nothing but ashes.

The men around Malakai balk, their faces draining of all color as they comprehend the power they've just witnessed.

"Is it my turn?" Sylus asks, tilting his head. He pulls a small device out of his pocket. "I'd love to play a few rounds with you, but I'm somewhat pressed for time."

He pushes the button in his hand.

Malakai's eyes widen. He realizes what's about to happen and launches himself off what's left of the veranda into the murky water of the river below.

A moment passes.

And then the world goes up in flames.

One by one, blinding explosions rip and tear into the night club, illuminating the surrounding night like fireworks.

More screaming as people shriek and stampede over each other to evacuate. They slip on wet and icy concrete, tripping over falling bodies and tearing at one another's clothes. Sylus watches them kill and maim each other in their haste to get to safety.

Human cruelty never ceases to amuse him.

His watch buzzes on his wrist. He frowns when he sees Luke's name on the caller ID.

Wrapping the mist around himself, he teleports some distance away and takes the call.

"Boss," Luke says, his voice tense. "Boss, you better come quick. The Lady isn't going to last much longer. We've got her in the Tub, but that shit that spilled all over her is eating her alive."

Sylus ends the call.

He looks to Mephisto's crows flying above and calls to his companion.

Ensure things are clean here, Sylus commands.

Mephisto agrees.

With one final look at the array of explosions still going off behind him, Sylus vanishes into the night.

#love and deepspace #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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bhuerracus · 13 days

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My GW2 Main OC: Luphom

i realized i haven't posted my gw2 oc / toon yet. her name is Luphom! i was going to draw her for this post but drawing armor is so hard, but i promise ill give you a drawing later with a more accurate physical appearance. she's my main character and is a bit of a self-insert, not 100% of course but still be kind. i do have other OCs i am working on but they need more time in the oven.

also, i still have to complete the story, so all of this is before she becomes the Commander. i have to think if i want the GW2 story to be canon to her storyline. so far im thinking no, but we'll see. im kind of new to this sort of thing so im still getting used to fan fiction, OCs, RP etc. in general. so, if i am missing some CWs, tags, etc. please let me know!! i do not wish to make anyone see something they do not want to see.

with that out of the way click the "Read more" to learn more about her!

Content Warnings: tragic backstory (bullying, CPTSD (neglect and abuse), no specific details are given beyond what i just said), redemption.

name: Luphom

age: old

basic personality: the fun grandma who would give the grandkids cookies even when the parents beg for her not to do so. tries to be nice to everyone. angers and gets mean quickly when she feels wronged, but she's working on it. big "HIS PRONOUNS ARE THEY/THEM!!!!" energy, she does her best. will be the first to defend anyone she feels is being wronged, the first to notice when someone is trying to say something but can't get a word in, and interrupts everyone to let them speak.

physical appearance: a white and grey Charr. fat! has lots of tufts of fur on her face. fuzzy. totally covered in scars, some missing teeth.

gender: transgender woman, transitioned late into her life after repressing it for a very long time.

sexuality: says she's heterosexual, loves big strong men, but also, she is one big strong woman away from finding out she's bisexual.

basic backstory: after childhood neglect and abuse at the hands of her birth family, and then bullying in the fahrar, she found the one thing that gave her the positive attention and affection she craved and stopped the abuse: power.

she learned to be mean and brutal, and trained constantly so that no one would treat her poorly and give her respect. it worked. she was a force to be reckoned with.

however, as an adult, when this was no longer necessary and she could stop pretending to be a Cold and Cruel Badass, she realized the people she was surrounded with were all just as cruel as she was, but they weren't pretending.

she felt trapped, having to choose between being lonely, or being someone she was never meant to be. it took years, and as she slowly began to return to the kinder, softer person her childhood self was, the bullying began again, this time as an adult and from her friends and peers who looked down on her "new" "weakness". to them, she slowly became a completely different person. a spineless coward.

after self-reflection, a couple of hard choices, A Life-Changing Experience, and then finally the realization that she is a woman and always wanted to be but was never allowed to, she threw away her skills as a Warrior, her warband, and her past achievements on the battlefield to be happy and become her true self: a lady who loves to dress up, spoil loved ones, and get silly with it.

she is currently a Ranger who is looking to learn about all the animals that exist on Tyria.

likes: talking and chatting, puzzles, cooking, Snargle Goldclaw books, animals (especially ones she feels are mistreated like bugs), changing outfits weekly, bird-watching, giving affection, spoiling people silly, flirting (but will explode if you flirt back), art, being kind to those she sees no one else is kind to

dislikes: being ignored and ignoring others, reading, bigotry of any kind, arguing, the constant nightmares which haunt her every waking moment, boiled vegetables

#gw2 oc #my ocs

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hyperactivetransdrone · 2 months

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Blog Intro

No one let me forget to take care of steves egg (teh egg will be named after hatching)

So after looking through several peoples profiles I noticed that introductory posts were pretty common (at least for nsfw sooo here we gooooo)

I'm adding this later on 8/18/24: If (majority) your content is s**sy and your DMing me to try to dominate me, Don't. While I don't mind people who do that/are into that being called that feels like a sexualization of my identity and ergo 1: I hate 2: is disgusting to me, I don't mind if you Identify as one or if you DO just wanna CASUALLY chat but please know that I won't and will never want that or say that word (with the exception of blocking tags involving it or here as a boundary) but if i need to it will be censored. I don't mind if you Identify as one and wanna follow me or anything or just wanna casually chat (or talk sexual just not... making me one to try to explain) feel free to I will NEVER kink shame regardless of how I feel so this won't apply to most people just a very very teeny tiny minority. I won't block you tho unless you cross a boundary or keep pushing, because I feel anyone who wants to read my content should be allowed.

I would also like to say, if you're going to delete your account please don't dm me, it breaks my heart every time

Hello I do not wish to give out my actual name online so you may call me Mz. Hyde (I stole it from the song by the same name by Halestorm) or just... my user-name-tag-thing (always forget what its called)

Outside of this post any posts in blue is rping as a slime-girl-queen-goddess-character. Feel free to send asks or responses directed at her. Her title is Queen of Slimes, The Slime Goddess, or The Slime of the Lake

As of posting this I am still brand new to Tumblr but am learning somewhat quickly sooo things may look A Little odd right now to the average Tumblr user but as soon as I finish learning the basics it should look fine.

Anyway:

18 so 18+ only please, (pre-hrt) Transfem, Bisexual, Autisic+ADHD, overall anxious/shy-ish, probably a switch, Lefty, Type 1 Diabetic (I require insulin to survive), Virgin [:(]

Majority of this blog will be kinky thoughts usually about being dommed or hypno because... I wanna try it. SOME is fantasy tho so keep that in mind (usually my reblogs)

If you are a dom looking for money, unless you are popular and have a good community on here or if you are a s**sy tamer (or whatever it would be called) please don't DM me, unless you just wanna casually chat and don't wanna dom me or if you do please respect:

I really don't like being called an s**sy and will give you one warning before I block you.

I literally have no way to pay you so please don't expect that.

Please read this first, or if I ask you to because otherwise that gives me a red flag in my head and I will probably block you. (Unless it's just casual talking but that's different than what I'm talking about here)

My proof that I take this seriously:

Kinks because that seems to be an important factor on making these types of posts/blogs: Transformation, Hypnosis, Dronification, Denial/Edging, Latex, Brainwashing, Bimbofication, Twinning, Dollification, Forniphilia, Exhibition

Things I enjoy but aren't kinks: Forced Fem, Praise, Good Girl (I'll add more when I think of them)

Limits or things that I will block you about: Human Waste, Blood, Physical Harm, IRL Identity Death (Fantasy is hot AF tho), Sissy (WILL BLOCK YOU), Findom (Unless we're in a romantic relationship), (and a few more I can't remember off the top of my head)

The reason for physical harm being a limit is mostly due to personal problems I've had with S.H. and because of that I hate reading S.H. or other stories or fantasies with physical harm or knifes. Fantasy Violence is ok though. (E.G. Pirates or like a battle between two warrior framed in a Fictional light.) Oh and also no needles. BIG fear of needles, for multiple reasons. Will go in depth if asked.

Finally a few final things about me/general questions:

This is my first Tumblr account that is SPECIFICALLY for NSFW things although I will occasionally post more SFW things but I do love music, video games, card/board games, RPGs/TTRPGs, creative writing, art.

What's your Favorite Color?: I don't have one but my fav combo is Hot Pink and Deep Purple, pretty much if you've ever seen those BIC octagonal see-through pens, those shades of pink and purple specifically

What kinda music do you like?: Power Metal, Rock, some Pop

What video games do you play?: Some Pokemon, Batman: Arkham, Smash Ultimate, Fallout, I can't really get online games yet so unfortunately I cannot play with anyone :'(

Is there anything specific you like about your kinks?: Honestly, in a vacuum I like dronification for productivity because I SUCK at doing anything productive.

The people who have sent questions about Gaza Support (i am broke but here are links to them i am just going to put their profiles for the sake of simplicity and nc some links i cant copy paste):

@ehabayyad23

@freepaleatine95

@mahmoudayyad

@esraayyad14

@ezzaldeens-blog

@foggyruinspost

@ahmed4palestine

@sspsworld

@fidaa-family2

@wafaaresh6

@mahmoudswierh2

@generousvioonanuttieyl

@nishverian

@ahmedalnabeeh11

@shinytastemakerphantom

@nohabed

@ahmaad860

@scentedtyrantmusic

@mahrahpalestine

@d-imtthal

@ayoosh-gaza

@kareem-family2

@save-fatma-gaza3093

@yazan-joud2

Tags to find non-reposts easier (Umm i ran out of colors so these will be bold):

#Random Thoughts, #Edging kink (for post horny thoughts), #Hornyposting (for horny thoughts), #Hydes eepy thoughts (for thoughts i have when sleep deprived), #Hydes Ideas (cool ideas i have), #Hydes Hypno Scripts (for Hypnotic Scripts I make), #Hydes QnA (QnA), #Hydes Depressed Thoughts (Thoughts I have when depressed), #Hydes Kinky Thoughts (thoughts I have that are just generally kinky but it's not hornyposting nor... I forgot what I was going to put here), #Hydes Hypno Scripts (My hypnosis scripts), #Slimeposting (Slime Queen RP posts)

If I get any FAQ I'll either add them here or to a FAQ post.

I now have a sideblog for latex things that look perfect. That is an opinion and just a kink the person they are under the latex is, in my opinion, someone different so anything there that I call 'perfect' is just in terms of kinkiness NOT a reflection of the actual person. The blog is: @trans2latexperfection

If you read this far thank you for reading!!! :3

Blocked Users (i dont normally block people so these people are scammers or assholes, also will not be using @ s either here):

mistress-elizabethh - for calling me a s**sy twice, even after claiming to read pinned

#Intro #FAQ #hypnosis #hypnok1nk #Hydes Intro #Hydes QnA

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bella-rose29 · 1 year

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Chapter 4 - The Honeymoon (part 2)

Did I take inspiration from Queen Charlotte? ... mayybe. Did I also take the image from Queen Charlotte? ... mayybe

Also please let me know if you wanna be added or removed from the tag list and I will do so!

Enjoy! <3

Warnings: mentions of past trauma

Word count: 2.6k

Tag list: @kentucky-criedfricken, @polli05927, @kateswone, @historianthesecond, @ell0ra-br3kk3r

This honeymoon was a disaster.

Since that first day when they had arrived, Y/N had seen Nikolai twice.

It was the third morning.

She had breakfasted alone, she had eaten her lunch alone, and she had had dinner alone. Her husband was nowhere to be found, and it was starting to infuriate her. She understood that she wasn't being the nicest to him, but she didn't feel that Nikolai had given her enough reason to trust him yet, and her past experience had left her too hurt to trust this man so easily.

But he could still have sat and eaten with her.

The dining table was long enough to seat her entire village, yet she was the only one there every meal time. There were staff around the walls, of course, but nobody to talk to, or even glare at across the table.

The first day, after she'd left him standing by the lake (she could have sworn that he'd said something but she was too far away to make it out), she'd gone back to the greenhouse, finding peace in the plants as she always had. Y/N had stayed there until someone had found her and told her it was time for dinner, and she was only a little disappointed to find that Nikolai wasn't there, but she should have expected it, really, given how she'd treated him earlier. She did feel bad about it, but she was hurt, and lashing out.

After eating, she had been on her way to her rooms to retire for the evening, but was distracted by the library on the way. The library in the Little Palace had been incredible, and she'd read everything in it at least twice, spending more time there than in her training sessions, but it had been somewhat restricted in its contents. This library, she found as she scanned the shelves, had far more interesting texts; there were some titles she recognised from Os Alta, but a great number of them seemed to be older, in different languages she could only barely read. Y/N frowned to herself, making a mental note to try and learn more of the languages, in case it helped with negotiations with other countries.

She'd then spent the next hour or so in there, brushing her fingers over the spines and occasionally selecting one from the shelves to take back to her room. When she'd eventually left, and headed out into the corridor, she'd caught a glimpse of Nikolai at the far end, fiddling with something in his hands. Curious, she followed him (at a distance, she didn't like to think how it would look if she were caught stalking him), and her curiosity only grew when he disappeared into his room, still fiddling with what looked like some sort of vial, and Tolya went in after him. The door locked behind him, and Y/N was left in the corridor with her stack of books to wonder what the hell had happened that Nikolai needed to talk to Tolya this late at night.

The second time she saw him was when she had gone for a walk the next day. The weather was nice, the sun shining over the grounds, and so she'd taken one of the books that she had collected the night before and gone outside. She'd been wandering close to the stables when she'd heard what sounded like metal clanging, so she'd walked a little closer. Her first thought was that a stable hand was helping a farrier shoe a horse; her second was that somebody had broken in to steal something.

Given her ideas on what she thought she would find, she naturally was shocked to see her husband, King Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka, lying on the floor in his shirt and trousers and covered in straw, fixing something on the underside of the carriage they had ridden in the day before. She felt like a schoolgirl looking at him, his shirtsleeves rolled up just past his elbows showing his forearms and blackened hands (that she assumed was oil, although it looked much darker than that), one of his suspenders slipping off of his shoulders and being yanked back every now and then. He had dirt on his cheek, and Y/N wondered if he knew, then had to fight off the thought that she should go and wipe it off. Shaking her head, she left quickly, gathering a mist to cool her flushed cheeks that she refused to properly acknowledge when asked if she was alright by a concerned staff member. Since then, she'd been stubbornly avoiding him, hoping that by putting some (extra) distance between them it would help reduce the number of times she thought about his arms.

On the third morning of the honeymoon, Y/N had awoken to the sun, frustrated at the thin curtains for allowing so much light in so early, then had reluctantly got out of bed and dressed herself. Heading down for breakfast, she was expecting to eat alone, as she had at every mealtime here so far. She was surprised, however, to see her husband sat at the other end of the table, looking exhausted yet scribbling notes like his life depended on it.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was loud in the quiet of the room, and although her shoes had clicked on the floor, she didn't think he'd actually heard her come in. Her suspicions were confirmed when his head snapped up so fast she thought he might break his neck.

"Oh, you're here! Uh, I was just... eating my breakfast. I'm not normally awake this early, so I thought I'd just come and eat with you?" His explanation was more of a question, as if he were hopeful she wouldn't turn him away. She could only stare at him, though, fixating on something.

"You're... not normally awake at this time?"

"Uh, yeah. I usually end up sleeping in, so..."

"Oh. Okay then." It was awkward after that, both of them refusing to meet the other's eyes. The only noises were his scribbling and their cutlery clinking as they both ate, and Y/N couldn't help but wonder what the staff positioned around the room would say afterwards. Most likely rumours would spread that the king and queen were fighting, or unhappy, or hadn't consummated the marriage (all of which were true, but nobody needed to know that), and then both of their reputations would fall apart, Ravka would become even more susceptible to attacks, and they could all lose everything.

When they had finished eating and were getting up to leave, she made a decision.

"Would you join me on a walk this morning? The weather is lovely and I would hate for you to miss it," she said, and she was immediately relieved when he nodded. Y/N didn't miss the way the staff looked at each other, or the hope in his eyes, and as soon as they were outside and away from prying eyes and ears she turned to him.

"I just wanted you to know I only asked you out here so that people wouldn't think something was wrong. I could tell they were already coming up with stories and I didn't want any rumours to spread that Ravka is weak or anything."

He was quiet for a moment, and he sounded almost deflated when he spoke.

"You're right, of course you are. Did you... did you have any plans for today?"

"Not really, although I don't really see why you care, you haven't been very involved in my daily plans lately." She knew it was unfair, but she was still hurt, and old memories had been dredged up from the back of her mind that she thought she'd never have to revisit, and it was making her lash out.

"I'm sorry. I could show you what I've been doing, if you like?" She nodded, letting him lead her away to a separate building she hadn't noticed before. It was nestled in the undergrowth, and she had a horrible moment where she thought he might be taking her here to kill her, but then they stepped inside and all thoughts of malicious intent left her head.

She was surrounded by machinery, work benches and storage cabinets overflowing with stuff, and projects that had been started but not yet finished were everywhere. The thing that really took her breath away, however, was the boat suspended in midair.

"So you build things?"

"Yes. I haven't had much time to do any of this recently, what with the war, becoming King, getting married. I'm sorry for not spending more time with you, I just figured you wouldn't want me around since I can't actually tell you why I left, so I came here. I've been working on a new model, one just for small travelling parties, but I can't quite get the-" He cut himself off when he saw her face, then said "Sorry. I'll stop boring you with this. I just thought you might want to see what I was doing."

"I- thank you. Really." She supposed she could try and be civil, since he was being respectful of her wishes. "If... if you don't want to tell me, that's fine, I just..." she sighed deeply, taking a risk and jumping in the deep end. "I've been left before, and I don't want to get close to you in case it happens again." She could feel his surprise at the fact that she'd shared the information, but her eyes were squeezed shut so that she couldn't see his reaction.

"I won't leave you, I swear. I know this isn't the most... ideal situation, but on a purely political level I need this marriage to work, and that won't happen if you hate me or if I leave. On a personal level? I would like you to have some sort of happiness in this marriage, given you didn't have much of a choice in it. So I swear I won't leave you, because I need you, and because Ravka needs you. Also you'd probably have to run the country on your own because you'd have killed me for leaving, so..." At some point his hands had landed on her arms, gentle enough that if she wanted to move away she could, and she had to blink back tears. His last comment had made her laugh a little, and now that her eyes were open she could see that he was smiling softly at her, hope in his eyes again.

"Alright. I can't promise that I'll be anything more than civil, though. I just... don't want to get too close in case I get hurt."

He nodded his agreement, exhaustion coming back from breakfast momentarily before he seemed to be so full of energy she thought he might be a power source himself.

"Why don't you show me around? I doubt I'll understand much of what you're saying, bu-" she was cut off as he practically dragged her over to a workbench, already explaining about three things at once and talking so fast she couldn't keep up.

Let's just hope this works, she thought. Or we could be in big trouble.

Y/N wasn't sure how long they'd spent in Nikolai's workshop, since they'd eaten in there when they got hungry (he had a cupboard filled with food, and she made a mental note to put one of those in her rooms when she got back to Os Alta), but she found herself thoroughly enjoying the time. They ate dinner together (sat at opposite ends of the table, but still), and the atmosphere was much less awkward than it had been that morning.

When Y/N decided to retire, Nikolai walked her to her rooms, her arm slipped through his. It seemed as though he really meant that he wouldn't leave unless she wanted him to, and the thought made her smile.

Maybe this won't be like before.

It was wishful thinking, she knew, but she had to hope that he was different, that all of this was different, even if it was only so that the two of them could help Ravka be rebuilt.

They reached her door, coming to a stop, and she took her arm out of his, one hand already on the handle.

"Thank you, for giving me a chance today, I really appreciate it. It must have been difficult for you to tell me about... that, so thank you," he said, voice quiet and, if she wasn't going deaf, a little shy? She nodded, hesitating slightly.

Before she could question what she was doing, she reached up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, immediately turning red and shoving open the door, muttering a "Good night," and practically slamming it in his face. Y/N pressed her back up against the door, gripping the handle for dear life as she tried to work out why, in the name of all the Saints, she had just kissed his cheek, when unbidden the memories of him in the stables fixing the carriage came back to her, and her face became even more red (although how that was possible, she wasn't sure, since her face felt like it was on fire).

Y/N only managed to get to sleep many hours later after chucking a jug of cold water over her head to try and get her out of her thoughts, and when she woke in the morning, she found that she was actually looking forward to the day, hopeful that Nikolai would be at breakfast when she got there.

He was, looking considerably more well rested than he had the day before, and they spent that day together too, and the next, and the next, and she was almost sad when their honeymoon came to an end and they had to return to the Grand Palace. He hadn't brought up the kiss she gave him which she was grateful for (and she hadn't done it since), and there hadn't been anything other than the occasional hand-holding and awkward hug, but they had talked, and learned a lot about each other. She sensed there was something more, since when she had brought up why he wore his gloves one evening he had stiffened and abruptly changed the subject, but she had softened up a little over the week, deciding that if she was allowed to have secrets then she couldn't fault him for keeping things from her either. She just hoped that in time, they would be comfortable enough around each other to share, and stop keeping each other in the dark.

The carriage ride home was a lot smoother, both conversation-wise and physically; whatever Nikolai had done (he had explained it, but it mostly went over her head) it had made the carriage jolt less on the smaller bumps, although every now and then a larger pothole would get the better of it and they'd go flying in their seats. The journey was short, but tiring enough that when they got back they ate their dinner and went straight to bed, Nikolai walking Y/N to her rooms as he had done every night since that first one.

The next morning was chaos, filled with reports and meetings and note-taking and people talking into her ear, and the rest of the day carried on like that. She needed no help getting to sleep that night, but found herself longing for the calm of her honeymoon, or even the Royal gardens. She'd had to finish planning for her coronation, too, which was only a couple of days away now.

Her last thought as she was drifting off into sleep was that the honeymoon wasn't as much of a disaster as she'd originally thought.

Chapter 5

#grishaverse #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai x y/n #nikolai lanstov x y/n #king of scars

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dtabookclub · 1 year

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Q&A

What is Down To Agincourt (often abbreviated as DTA)?

An apocalyptic Destiel fanfic series set in the endverse universe. You can click here to access the series on AO3. Oh, and it's over a million words long (more on this later).

What's the book club and how can I join?

A discord server for anyone who is interested to read along and discuss the series. This is a google calendar link to the discussion timeline. Click here to join the discord if you are interested!

General rules and disclaimers about the server:

This is an adult space. Discussion of adult themes is allowed, but please be respectful (i.e. if someone requests a trigger warning, please be courteous). No racism, sexism, transphobia, antisemitism, ableism, or other form of discrimination is permitted. Please also know that I am reading this for the first time along with you, so i may not be able to provide content warnings ahead of time. If anyone is rereading with us and would be willing to do this, please reach out

How long is it again? How much time will this take me?

1,121,311 words (which is pretty long)! If you follow my schedule, you will be reading an average 11,000 words a day (exact numbers depends on chapter length), for 101 days. This is a similar pace to reading a book the same length as A Picture of Dorian Gray per week. Note that for the first two fics in the series, it's a bit higher (~14-15k per day), and lower for the third fic (~16k every two days) Another good frame of reference for word count would be the complete Potter series. (I am loath to even acknowledge JK, but this is a good way to put the length in perspective, as most people are familiar with the series). Of course, these examples are all different reading levels, and how long it takes will ultimately depend on your own reading speed

Can anyone join?

The fics in this series are rated mature to explicit, so I do ask that you do not join if you are under the age of 18. Since this will be my first time reading through as well, I am not familiar enough with the material to say whether it is suitable for minors. Other than that, pretty much anyone is welcome! You do not need to follow me or anyone else (though you might want to follow this blog for updates).

When does it start? What's the exact timeline?

The discussion for chapter one will start on May 22nd, and the final chapter will finish on August 30th. This gives people a little time to get the word out, or get a head start on reading! Discussion of each day's chapter can begin at 12 am eastern time. If google calendar does not work for anyone, please let me know! I would be happy to type it out as a list if needed

What if I fall behind? Or read ahead?

There will be separate channels for people who are behind schedule and ahead of schedule. Please make sure to read and follow the spoiler tagging guidelines when using these channels. (These will be pinned in each channel)

Are re-readers welcome?

Absolutely! In fact, it would be great to have some people who are already familiar with the series. For example, since it will be my first time reading through, I won't be able to provide content warnings for those who ask; if someone who has read the fics already would be willing to fill this role, I'm sure it would be appreciated. As long as you follow the spoiler rules, we're happy to have you!!! There is also a channel just for rereaders where you can discuss the entire series with no spoiler tagging required

I have a suggestion/idea/other question

great! Send me an ask on here or discord (and feel free to use anon if you are more comfortable with that) :)

#please understand that i have both never read this fic and rarely used discord so bear with me lol #anyway. Just this once i am going to use tags to hopefully help people find the post #down to agincourt #destiel

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lcftyambiticns · 7 months

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♔ ❛ 𝑰nd. &. sel. 25+ 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 roleplay blog for ℒORROAKAN ; self-appointed MASTER OF RAMAZITH'S TOWER &. ARCHMAGE of Baldur's Gate. TRIGGER WARNING for dark / adult content.

WeaveRot / an undying bond: @shadovan Apprentice: @onemostindominable

HEADCANONS | OPEN STARTERS | MEME TAG | VERSES

RULES / ABOUT UNDER THE CUT !!

STORIES: ✍︎ ℳEMORIES.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

GNEREAL

25+ ONLY. This blog is written by an adult for other adults, so please act accordingly.

I'm careful about how I curate my online space, and the block button and I are besties. Usually it's nothing against you personally, but simply to avoid misunderstandings. Muns who engange in OOC drama, OOC bigotry and LGBTQA+ phobia of any kind, callout posts, OOC political discourse will be blocked on sight, as well as people who can't differentiate fiction from reality. If you don't like someone's content, block them. Protecting your online space is a mature thing to do, and I promise I'll 100% support that. What's NOT okay is trying to police adults on what to write on their blogs (go touch some grass).

Triggers you may encounter on this blog: violence, murder, abuse, gore, monsters, gaslighting, manipulation, canon-typical fantasy racism and overall offensive / problematic themes. Triggers won't always be tagged. If you're triggered by any of these, this blog isn't for you.

I'm a big fan of making my muses suffer :D I love angst and exploring dark, gritty plots. If you have any triggers, let me know before jumping into a RP with me so we're all on the same page.

Communication is key!! You'd like to share an idea? Go right ahead. Don't like where the plot is going? Let me know. You want to scream about our muses? YES. Writing is so much more fun if the muns get along. I promise, I don't bite.

INTERACTION

I'm selective and mutuals only simply because I can't spread myself too thin. I'm particularly selective when it comes to mumu-blogs featuring muses from fandoms outside the DnD / BG3 verse.

If we aren't mutuals: You are welcome to send asks and memes! Same goes for plot ideas, send an ask.

Formatting and accessiblity: I HOPE(!!) that most of you are mindful of your RP partners' accessibility needs, but I won't follow blogs with heavy formatting regardless. Wide spacing or paragraphs entirely in lowercase or caps make reading difficult for me and I want to check out your writing before I give a follow. Obviously, typos or grammar mistakes are absolutely okay. As long as I'm able to understand what you're writing, you're doing great.

MEMES. I love them. Send 57. I can't promise I will reply to every meme you send, but that's just because not every meme sparks my muse. If you want to continue a meme, go right ahead! No need to ask.

If I follow you, I have read your rules and want to interact! Don't be shy <3 I will also assume that if you follow me back, you're fine with me sending you memes / tagging you in starters / sliding into your IMs to plot.

If you followed me first, I'd appreciate it if you reached out first. I will try my best to do same, of course!

Plotting: I'm not a fan of plotting out every detail. I find it more exciting to let our muses guide the story and see where it takes us! However, Lorroakan is a particularly uncooperative muse and an asshole on main. Having a general idea of what we want our muses to do really helps to keep the ball rolling, even if we end up going in a different direction!

SHIPPING / RELATIONSHIPS

This blog is multiship, male lean. Fair warning; Lorroakan isn't particularly interested in romance or sex, and he's a prick. I'm open to shipping, BUT ships will most likely be toxic / one-sided (with the potential to develop into something wholesome over time!), and slow burn. By slow I mean glacial. In most cases, at least.

I won't write smut on the dash. The steamy stuff will be moved to discord or IMs.

Pre-established relationships: Yes. I usually don't do romantic pre-established relationships (exepctions may be made at my discretion), but what if your muse was Lorroakan's childhood bestie? Another (former?) apprentice? A fellow scholar of the arcane he used to work with?

MUN NOTES Mun =/= Muse, I obviously don't condone any of Lorroakan's bs IRL. He isn't a nice person. He is a toxic, abusive piece of work. While I will absolutely respect your boundaries OOC (if you talk to me beforehand about them, pretty please with a cherry on top), I won't water him down.

Please don't soft-block me, I have the memory of a soggy pickle. If you don't want me to interact with you, hard-block.

@ all personal blogs: Hi, I appreciate you and it's really flattering to know you enjoy my writing and HCs. You are welcome to like and reblog my HCs and graphics (REBLOG, not repost, don't steal my shit or I'll go Liam Neeson on you), but no touchy RP threads.

Activity: Sometimes I'll reply super fast, sometimes it takes me ages, and sometimes I can only focus on specific threads / muses.

They / Them, hatched 1995, dog parent, hyperfixating on problematic villains, D&D player.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

GENERAL Lorroakan is in his mid-late 30s, fairly young considering his achievements (mostly obtained through deceitful methods).

He presents himself as the great archmage of Baldur's Gate, but while he is a compentent wizard and keen enchanter, he is nowhere near as powerful as he claims to be.

Lorroakan laid claim to Ramazith Tower after its previous owner mysteriously disappearend, and he refuses to share the knowledge it holds (at least for free).

He is originally from Athkatla, one of the wealthiest cities in Faerun, but he grew up in the shadows of its splendor. His family (mother, father, two sisters, four brothers) could barely make ends meet, but Lorroakan has always been ambitious and harbored dreams of one day being just as wealthy and powerful as the elite of the Gem District. The practice or use of arcane magic is explicitly illegal within the city of Athkatla, but that didn't stop him; he practiced in secret whenever he could get his hands on a spellbook.

PERSONALITY IN A NUTSHELL . . . as interpreted by the mun ; Ambitious, diligent, intelligent, clever, creative ; selfish, arrogant, manipulative, power-hungry, petty, vain.

He has a superiority complex ; he is vain, has an overly high opinion of himself, makes boastful claims that aren't backed up by reality, has a habit of putting down those who outshine him.

(The way I see it) Lorroakan isn't a straight up villain. However, his ambitions and narcissistic nature drive him to commit morally questionable, and at times, outright despicable acts.

CHARACTER STUDIES / RELEVANT HEADCANONS: bad money habits more about his past & why he is how he is

Shippy HCs CONs of being his lover PROs of being his lover NSFW headcanons

#꧁ * pinned !#DNI.

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