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taexoxosgf · 7 months

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ACROSS THE ROOM

PAIRING idol!mark lee x idol fem!reader

WORDS 6.4k

SYNOPSIS You were just so beautiful. The type of beauty that seemed unattainable. The type of visual Mark would never approach because he concluded that there are already a million people at your feet.

WARNINGS both are hot (yes, this needs a warning), fluff if you squint (rlly hard), smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & fem receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, missionary, doggy, slight hair pulling

NOTES repost. my old account is gone because i’m the dumbest bitch on earth.

February.

It had been two years since your group debuted. The award show season had just concluded and one idol group would host a party to celebrate all the hard work throughout the year.

You practically lived at the company at this point. Eating, sleeping, and spending all your breaks there. SM Entertainment has strict schedules regarding breaks and recovery time which has you constantly feeling as if you’re doing one thing after another.

Idols would rarely have any time for themselves or to let loose. Between the busy schedules and performances, there was scarcely any time for family or friends.

It’s only been two years, and you applaud other groups in the same company who have been slaving away for the past few years. But that was the price for fame and riches. Maybe it is worth it to some people. It was for you.

The art of music and dance was all you loved since you were a little girl. Performing for your family or school talent shows, your love for music never fizzled out as it did with some individuals. It could happen in the future, you think. You’re still early in your career, so you hope to become more optimistic; content with what you have.

This year, the group that was hosts is NCT. Groups from big companies such as HYBE, JYP, YG, etc. were in attendance. Since it was a rare occurrence, the boys split the cost of the mansion. It was such a brilliant idea to do this, you thought. There were so many of them, and it probably didn’t even make a dent in their bank accounts. It was a small price to pay so idols could freely interact without the pressure of cameras, and old friends could reunite.

Even though your group was in the same company as many of the artists, it was difficult to have time for conversations due to busy schedules and different practice areas. And it was almost impossible to run into each other at the company due to its vast size. The possibility, if you could guess, would be about five percent. If artists of the same company rarely saw each other, imagine how difficult it would be for artists from different companies to be companions or friends.

It was easier to become acquaintances to friends if two idol groups had overlapping comebacks. Music Bank, Show Champion, M! Countdown, etc. gave a lot of free time in between to hop over to different waiting rooms to converse with your colleagues. Your group was especially close with G-idle, showcasing false surprises every time your comebacks would be in the same time frame.

Your close friend, Soyeon, stands beside you, her right hand holding a red solo cup.

“So you never hang out with guys, and you haven’t fucked a guy since last year?”

“Nope, I don’t intend to tonight. And you know how hard it is to hang out with idols of the opposite gender. ”

Her hands soothingly rub against the sides of your arms. “No, no, no. I’m not having any of that tonight. When do we get a chance to roam free? No judgment, but this dry spell is getting out of hand.”

You scoff at your friend before continuing, “Unnie, these are basically our coworkers, I don’t know.”

She rolls her eyes at you before standing in front of you, face-to-face, “Oh come on, don’t be a buzzkill babe. So you’re telling me you don’t think anyone is attractive in this house full of hot people?”

Her question causes you to scan around the room and outside the backyard. Your eyes halt for a split second, but continue scanning around, pretending it never happened.

“Oh, I saw that,” she points at you. “There is a guy you wanna fuck!”

Throwing your arms down in a huff of disapproval, you’re about to give in to Soyeon’s frenzy. “Girl, could you be any fucking louder?”

“You better tell me now, I caught you bitch,” she playfully slaps your arm.

You bite your lip slightly, contemplating revealing who it is. Looking up at her, she’s staring at you with anticipation. Her eyes grow wider by the second and you’re not surprised when you’re giving into her puppy dog eyes.

Your hands fall on her shoulders as you close in on the space between the two of you. “Mark,” you whisper.

“Oh my god!”

You wince.

“I fucking knew it! I always thought you guys would look hot together.”

“What? You thought about this before?”

“Maybe. But that’s not the point. I swear I saw him eye you, and only you when you guys got here!” she’s already jumping and pushing you to the backyard before you can get another word out.

You try your fucking hardest to push back against her, but it’s no use. Her drunk ass is already overpowering you.

Mark is beside the pool playing with some of his members and others from different groups. Tossing the ping-pong, the millisecond has him hoping it can make it into the red cup charged with alcohol.

“Fuck,” his failure causes him to throw his head back.

“You fucking suck, I’m three cups from winning bitch!” Yeonjun yells from across the foldable table.

His success in the third remaining cup has him rejoicing, and he daps up his teammates.

“Now give the ball to Sunwoo. He’ll land it at the house next door,” Mark retorts.

“Aw, you’re about to lose, so you’re talking out of your ass.”

“You’re so drunk, you know that?” Mark laughs, ignoring his friends' behavior. He’s stepping away to let the following person use their turn.

He’s looking around at all the people at the house. This was the one night of the year he looked forward to. Just friends having fun and letting loose, no cameras, no one to judge or inspect his every move or facial expressions.

He spots you and Soyeon against the glass sliding doors. You look so fucking hot. Your top accentuated the curve of your waist so well, and he noticed the mini skirt on your body rides up a little more every time he steals a glance at you. The top you wore showed the perfect amount of cleavage and your perky breasts are on display for everyone to see. He wants to be the only one to see them fully. He wants to be the only one to see you naked in front of him.

Oh, how he would love to fuck you. He couldn’t help it. You look so delicious standing there, with your pouty lips and doe-like eyes. Your perfect body and silky hair.

To be honest, he noticed you at the company and could never work up the courage to start a conversation with you. News flash: this has literally never happened to him before. It was never difficult to speak confidently to anyone until you. His extroverted personality suddenly does a one-eighty whenever he contemplates approaching you.

You were just so beautiful. The type of beauty that seemed unattainable. The type of visual Mark would never approach because he concluded that there are already a million people at your feet.

He recalls the few times he passed you in the halls and you politely bowed. Or when your recording sessions would overlap slightly, and he would hear your voice in the studio. Or when he passed by you in those tight clothes that barely covered your body practicing with your group.

Mark couldn’t lie, you were the most attractive out of all of them. He personally thinks, no one could compare, but he has yet to discover what you’re really like. Not the personality you convey on-screen.

This only happens once a year. It was an opening for him to finally converse with you. The company, media, or fans wouldn’t have a clue about it. There would be no confession to them, the perfect chance to shoot his shot. The only thing holding him back would be rejection. At this point, the opportunity is too tempting to ignore as soon as he spots Soyeon pulling you outside the home.

This is so embarrassing.

You and Mark make eye contact as Soyeon drags you out the door. He doesn’t pretend to look away.

“Come on! Move!”

“No! Oh my god! Stop!”

Soyeon finally stops with the physical force, and you both stare at each other. Her eyes move from your eyes to his, another way of telling you to get on with it.

“Think about it, this is the one day of the year where you’ll really get the chance, and with no judgment. Or sneaking around,” she adds in the last part, hoping you would miss it. And you definitely didn’t.

She’s stern on her point, supporting it over and over again with more reasons. The persuasion is working, you think. And now, you’re seriously contemplating it. What’s the harm? Rejection? Embarrassment? You don’t even know if he wants you.

But maybe she’s right. You’ll most likely never run into him after today, and if you do, it probably won’t be until the same time next year.

“I don’t want to hear for months after today what could’ve been. You’ll spend so much time regretting it. I know you better than yourself,” Soyeon adds further.

Her words finally fuel your courage to make a move. “Okay, just give me a second to build some confidence, meditate, or something,” you’re shutting your eyes to soothe the nervousness away.

“Mhm, but maybe make it fast. Hot guy my twelve o’clock, coming your way. You’ll thank me later!” she quickly warns you as she pecks you on the cheek before making her way out of your line of sight.

There is no time for you to process what’s happening, or to prepare after she utters her last words.

Turning around, Mark is already directly in front of you, your eyes align with his chest and it takes all of you to meet his eyes.

“You don’t seem too happy to see me.”

He was so fine. You just wanted to stare at him. No matter how weird that sounded.

He’s scanning your entire form, taking a moment to drink in your appearance as you respond. “I don’t have any emotions towards you. We’ve never formally met.”

“Formally? Did we cross paths at a time I didn’t know about?” The ice clinks against the cup as Mark raises it to sip and his Adam's apple bobs in a thick swallow.

“I don’t know. Maybe you know the answer,” you’re habitually pulling your body towards him. The scent of his cologne laced with weed fills your nostrils and you already feel the warmth of his body radiating off him. You just can’t help it. You wanted him so badly, so badly that you didn’t second guess your obvious signals.

“You’re acting a little too dumb, saying words before thinking them through,” the false confidence is oozing from your voice as you speak. Okay. Maybe you’re drunk and you didn’t know it. If that’s the case, you won’t stop any time soon.

“What do you mean I’m acting dumb?” he follows his response with a chuckle at your assumption.

“You approached me as if we knew each other, then suddenly, you’ve never seen me before?”

“You’ve got it all wrong baby,” the pet name catches you off guard, but it rolls off his tongue like velvet. “We’ve never met, but I’ve noticed you.”

“Notice me? Elaborate,” you wanted to have him explain. Maybe he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You had to be sure. No embarrassment or rejection today, you exclaim to yourself. But you couldn’t jinx it.

“You’re the one I’ve been waiting to see tonight.”

“So you didn’t see me come in earlier?” your orbs follow your index and middle fingers as they walk up his chest. Your fingers stop finally looking at him straight in the eyes, “I call bullshit.”

“I did,” he glances at your hand on his chest before returning to you. “Just was waiting til’ I got you all to myself.”

‘Well… wish fulfilled… So, what is it that you hoped to see me for?”

He looks at you differently, and what you didn’t know was he’s contemplating saying the whole and honest truth or the version that wouldn’t scare your on-screen persona away. The innocent, dainty, girl that would break if you press too hard. But up until now, Mark only knew of that girl.

“Hey, Markie!” Yeonjun walks up from behind Mark, obviously drunk. He’s stumbling around, anchoring himself by putting a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I see your buzyyys” he slurs while directing his attention to you.

“You’re really so so hot, Y/n. If yous torn Markie here, down, I’m alayz here,” his hooded eyes scream drunk. “Hyung, don’t put that away!” he yells to someone behind you.

You’re turning towards the home to find the person he’s addressing, but he’s suddenly stumbling past you, unintentionally pushing you backward.

You’re off-balanced and as you close your eyes to prepare for impact, it never comes, and you feel an arm wrap around your waist, preventing you from practically eating shit.

Mark's arms are around your waist, sending a scowl back at Yeonjun before directing his attention back to you.

"As I was saying.”

You gaze up at him, your chest now pressed against his.

“What I hope to see you for?”

“Go on.”

Mark doesn’t know what comes over him suddenly, but he’s thinking he should just rip it off like a bandaid because it’s all or nothing.

“Is to have me in between your legs, and you screaming my name.”

“I’d like to see you try,” your eyes move down to his lips. It was so tempting to just pounce on him right here, right now.

It was clear that you both wanted each other as much as the other did. The game you always played with men every so often got you what you wanted, but this time, with Mark, it was almost impossible to keep playing.

Mark doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he takes his hand to move the hair sheathing your ear. You think he’s about to whisper something, but he begins kissing your neck, trailing down from your earlobe.

“Is that what you like to do? Test people?” his lips are against your ear and you’re caught off guard, doing everything in your power to hold back a moan.

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” you respond softly, eyes shut.

“Be careful what you wish for. It might come true,” he brings his face to yours, and your lips are practically two inches apart. The buzzing in your body doesn’t stop and you’re scolding yourself for wanting to give in so easily.

You notice him biting his lip, content with the effect he has on you.

You lick your lips, “And what if I want it to?”

“You’re all bark no bite baby.”

“If you want me to bite, I will.”

“I have yet to see otherwise,” he whispers against your ear, lip grazing your lobe. Mark doesn’t follow with another word but your impatience and the alcohol coursing through your veins forces you to make the decision.

You close the distance between you two, connecting your lips with his. It was so sudden, but he kisses you back almost immediately, squeezing your waist harder and the other hand instinctively goes to your cheek.

You forget about the world around you, and that people are basically watching you begin to make out with Mark in the middle of the backyard. But the built-up lust makes everyone disappear. You’re both in your own world, with no other thought in your consciousness.

You don’t know what Mark is thinking, but he’s in the same boat as you. He wanted you for so long, and now he finally has you. Following that thought, he doesn’t know what he did in his past life to deserve this, but he must have saved an entire country to be able to receive what he’s experiencing now.

You’re kissing more roughly now, your arms around his neck as he gropes your entire body. Your hands snake up into his hair, and you find yourself pulling his locks as it becomes more intense. When his hand snakes down to your ass, he squeezes, which earns a gasp from you.

Mark takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into yours. Your mouths fit each other perfectly, and you question if the other people you made out with in the past were real, because it has never felt this good before.

After a while, you’re pulling back, Mark struggling to pull himself away from you.

“Easy there,” your forehead is still against his, eyes on his lips.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he husks against your mouth.

Both of your chests are rising and falling at a rapid pace, not realizing you needed to catch your breaths.

“Upstairs, the second door, on your left,” the words roll off his tongue without hesitation.

You’re mutually agreeing, you, with a nod as you slowly part, and your fingers run off his, until the tip of the nail. It’s so hard to control yourself and act as if nothing had just happened.

Of course, people were looking. Some were whispering to each other, the others smirking, and finally, the one’s with a scowl on their faces as they watched each one walk away from the other.

You’re in the room sitting at the edge of the bed as you wait for Mark. You had just sat down and looked around the room. It’s clean and smells husky, but you can tell someone was staying here due to the small duffel bag and clothing scattered across the floor.

And you definitely couldn’t lie, you are so nervous. What would Mark be like in bed? Rough, dominant, gentle, or maybe submissive? It had been so long since you had sex, it felt as if you were a virgin all over again.

You’re amidst your own thoughts when you hear the click of the door. The door doesn’t open carefully, but it’s practically slammed open. Mark doesn’t look back as he closes the door behind him, not even stopping for a single second. The moment he sees you, he’s grabbing your face and smashes your lips against each other. It’s too fast, all of it happening in one motion.

You’re stumbling back until the back of your leg hits the edge of the bed, forcing you to sit back on it. But Mark’s lips don’t leave yours, following you and pushing you slowly until your back hits the mattress. His arms cage your body with his knee between your legs. You feel Mark grab behind the bend of your leg to wrap around his torso while your lips are still attached; Intertwining in perfect harmony.

The buzzing all around your body only seems to grow stronger as he becomes more aggressive. It was like he was so hungry that he couldn’t stop even if someone walked into the room right this instant. You couldn’t lie, it would probably turn you on more.

Mark couldn’t help it, you were just so insatiable, like a drug that he couldn’t get enough of. Like a drug, he could take over and over, without getting sick. He wanted all of you so badly, but only if you were willing to give yourself to him.

The more you dive deeper into Mark, the more he sucks you in, and the more you want him.

The makeout is unforgiving, animalistic almost. “So sweet,” he murmurs against your mouth. It feels too good to open your eyes to him. Your panties are already sticky and if this continues, you’d have to throw them away.

You’re biting your lip as Mark’s lips leave yours to trail kisses down your neck. He’s careful not to leave hickeys as he already knows that your makeup artists would be unforgiving.

But Mark continues to trace kisses down your body, pulling down your skirt and practically tearing off your underwear in one motion. He’s kissing all around except where you need him the most and it makes you whine.

“Tell me you want it,” this statement has you looking down and locking eyes with him.

“Mark, just get on with it.”

“Try again,” at that, he presses circles at your clit without a warning. It’s slow, the pad of his thumb easing over your bud. But it’s too slow, and you need more.

“Mark, Please. I want you,” you mewl, giving in to his demand. The one action already having you fall apart right under his fingertips. Before you know it, you’re instinctively moving your body closer to him, the eagerness exemplifying the level of want when you’re clenching around nothing.

“Yeah?” you don’t see it but the smirk he exudes at your greenlight is much more than subtle. “Don’t have a smart-ass comment now?”

Before you can retort, he’s diving head first, licking a stripe up your slit. It’s a satisfying feeling, a gasp threatening to spill from your lips as the feeling of arousal becomes stronger.

He’s continuing, knowing exactly how to turn you on, knowing exactly how to touch your body, and how to make your eyes roll back. His hands roughly push against the sides of your thigh to prevent you from moving out of place and the dim lights aren’t a hurdle as Mark finds your clit and gives it a sharp suck. It’s just the beginning as he continues slurping and sucking in all the right places, unforgiving as he gives you the best head of your life. Your eyes feel as if they're going to fall out of their sockets at the perfect pressure and pace.

“Fuuu-ck,” it’s stretched out, the same word combining with a previous moan that threatened to come out from the back of your throat.

“You’re so wet,” he rasps against your cunt. “So fucking messy.”

“Mark, don’t stop!”

What you didn’t know is Mark loved giving head. He didn’t need to receive anything in return. Knowing he made his partner cum turns him on beyond belief. Making you squirm and moan his name like a mantra has him instinctively rutting his crotch against the mattress.

You didn’t know he was this good. It’s as if you and he have done this a hundred times before. You’re absolutely drenched, your arousal mixed with his saliva drips down your core. But a mess was the last thing you and Mark worried about.

“Mark, I need more,” you squirm beneath him, your voice sounding already fucked out.

“Is that a demand?” he’s teasing, inserting only his middle finger while awaiting your obedience.

A small gasp leaves your lips before you utter a plea, “Holy shit, Mark, please.” You’re practically whining at this point while your temper and impatience becomes all too consuming.

“That’s better,” he adds his ring finger, adding to the fullness and earning another gasp from you.

“Damn. Thinking about your face when you cum is already making me so hard,” he groans against your cunt and continues to slowly grind his erection against the mattress with no embarrassment. You were already fucked out, but you could see him from your peripheral view, and if it wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, you don’t know what is.

Mark’s watching your expressions as he slowly pulls his fingers out before plunging them back in. He doesn’t let up as the slow motion suddenly speeds up, and he has you moaning and squirming underneath him.

He suddenly sucks on your clit in sync with the rhythm of his fingers and your eyes practically roll into your head. “Mark, Mark,” you shout as your thighs begin to quiver and you’re arching your back at the gratifying overstimulation.

"I-I’m gonna cum," your words are barely audible, mingled with gasps and groans, but Mark attentively listens, hearing every sound that emanates from you. He doesn't stop and keeps going in the same motions, only rougher and faster. It's not until he curls his fingers inside you that he finally reaches the sweet spot.

Your orgasm hits you all at once, tears threaten to spill down the sides of your face as the band in your lower abdomen inevitably snaps, and your entire body shakes. Mark sucks and slurps on your clit as if nothing happened, and you're virtually screaming. The obscene sounds fill the room and don't halt until you beg him to stop and he notices the cum gushing out of your body painting his fingers and dripping down your cunt.

“Fuck,” you’re spent, and it’s all solely from Mark’s tongue and fingers. You haven’t even seen his dick yet, and it already tops all the other people you’ve decided to waste your nights with.

“Done already?” The words are like butter, right before he licks another stripe up our sensitive core. “Well, I’m not done with you,” you quiver as he carefully drops the straps of your top, and then, brings the fabric over your head. Your senses seem to be on overdrive today, and you can’t get enough.

Mark's large hands glide from the inside to the outside of your thighs, merely to define the contour of your hips and waist, stopping to frame your breasts, and slowly begins circling your nipples, as if he read your thoughts. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” the high from one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had begins to finally come down and you notice the lips that hover right above you. Before another thought, your arm hooks around his neck to pull him down onto your lips.

He welcomes the kiss, mouth moving languidly with yours. Both of your bodies melt into each other as the serene moment becomes all too comfortable. His hand continues to press circles on your nipple as the other gently rubs against your waist, eventually moving down to your inner thigh, in an attempt to soothe your spent body. The push and pull of your lips continues on for a few moments before it becomes faster. Mark bites down on your lower lip, but you whimper at the action because of the overwhelming sensitivity.

At your whimper, he lets go to lick over your bottom lip as an expression of remorse. You’re so overwhelmed, it's only now that you remember his very big problem. It’s poking at your hip, and he lets you know he notices your revelation by experimentally pressing his erection against your center. This causes you to lock eyes with him, another smirk adorning his perfect face.

Mark’s cockiness only instigates you to unhook the arm around his neck and move down to cup his erection. You don’t even look down, staring up at him as you palm him through his pants. “You just love playing games don’t you,” but the shaky exhale he withdraws notifies you of the facade.

“Only if you’re playing,” your hooded eyes and bottom lip trapped in between your teeth say much more. The seductiveness of your tone only pulls Mark closer to you, him getting lost in every single sense.

Mark decides at this very moment he's too impatient to withhold any longer. He's had enough. Enough of your doe eyes staring at him as if nothing else matters. Enough with the melodious responses that exit your pretty lips. Enough of the temptation that you are. He's willing to obey every demand, no matter the cost. He thinks that even though you two hardly know each other, it's as if you've done this a hundred times before.

He is already withdrawing from your body to remove his clothing in front of you. The warmth is missed, but now you’re just sitting there in awe, because what the fuck. The large t-shirt he always wore hid his delicious arms and oh so, thin waist. Mark’s towering over you and it’s difficult not to gawk at his figure. The boxers that hug his hips are pulled down, revealing his big cock. You knew it was more than average when feeling the imprint on his pants, but you almost drool at the sight in front of you.

“Like what you see?” he’s emitting the same look, with the corner of his lip tugging up in return for your reactions.

You don't say a thing, instead groaning at his languid movements, legs spread open, upper body propped up with your arms. You continue to watch as he puts his hand over his cock and gently strokes it. Mark bites his lower lip to keep a groan at bay after stroking a little quicker. Watching him fuck himself turned you on belief and it should be embarrassing but the sight was basically straight out of a porn video.

“Let me help you out,” patience was never your strong suit, and the ogling only lasts a few moments before you’re on all fours, inching to the edge of the bed where Mark stands. He lets you, removing his hand before you lick a long stripe up from the base of his cock, then slightly sucking the tip. A smile threatens to come about as Mark twitches at your action.

“Stop teasing before I fuck you senseless against the wall,” he huffs, throwing his head back. Mark was so close to just pulling you off and using you if you let him. You seemed to be taking your precious time, but he was slightly worried he would come embarrassingly fast if you were the one in control here. Anything you did, he seemed to fall apart so easily. Right into the palm of your hand.

The warning was one that seemed like a reward to you, but you regress, pushing him into your mouth in one motion. Immediately gagging, the tip hits the back of your throat fast. It barely fits inside your mouth, and you find yourself using your hand to make up for the remainder. “Shit, that’s it,” he groans at the vibration from your throat as his praise makes you moan, imagining his cock in your pussy later.

You can feel every ridge of his cock in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, sucking and moving back and forth. He was so big, and the more you took of him, the more sounds came from Mark. It only urged you on further, sucking and bobbing like your life depended on it.

You’re squeezing your thighs together to aid the ache as the sound of the glide of your tongue against his cock is the only thing filling the air in the bedroom. It seems to be the final straw when he uses his hand to twist your hair and pull you off his cock. “Fuck, enough. I’m gonna cum if you keep going.”

You use the back of your hand to wipe off the corners of your mouth before Mark guides you onto your back with his hand still wrapped around your hair, the same hand resting on the back of your head. He's hanging over you once more, and the warmth you longed for returns. Your legs are already spread open, wanting to cure the clenching of nothing in between your legs.

“Are you sure you want this?” he’s biting his lip as he politely runs the hand originally entangled in your hair to push away the ones in front of your face.

“Want you so bad,” your words combine with a whimper because he’s running his cock back and forth over your sensitive folds, collecting as much cum as possible.

He offers a polite smile before he pushes in. It’s slow, but Mark’s size was far from normal, at least, far from what you’re used to. You feel so full and you both gasp at the contact, a grunt coming from him. “Oh my fucking god,” you almost choke on your words, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you adjust to his size. Mark grunts against your ear at your pussy swallowing his dick. If he were to die right now, this is what he guesses heaven would feel like.

“Fuck,” he tests the waters by grinding his hips against you, and it already has your back arching. “You’re so fucking tight,” his hands return to your waist, the arch of your back forced back onto the mattress. His hands are sure to leave bruises, but you couldn’t give a care in the world. Every single movement and drag of his cock against your walls is ecstasy, the delicious burn fueling the awaiting high. “You’re such a good girl. Taking me so well,” he murmurs.

“Mark, please move.”

“So needy,” he rolls his hips against you once more, while his pelvis is against you, “Your wish is my command,” before pulling back and diving back into your heat. “Oh,” a moan escapes your lips at the action. Your eyes are barely open, but those hooded eyes are focused on the Greek god in front of you. You stare at the strained muscles all along his back, his whole body flexing with every movement.

He’s repeating the same pull and push of his hips until there's a consistent pace, every stroke earning more sounds from you. The grip he has on you becomes tighter as he begins speeding up his thrusts.

You’re practically sobbing at the way Mark burrows his cock inside you, fucking you so that you can’t walk the next day. It’s so rough, breasts and body jolting with every movement, and you’re searching for stability by bringing your legs around his waist. You love it rough. Wanting him to use you, use you in any way he wanted. Mark suddenly pulls out almost completely before brutally hitting the spot inside you where you need him the most.

“H-holy shit, Mark.”

He’s so lost in the pleasure, the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass and the feel of your pussy choking his cock like a vice makes it almost painful to hold back his moans. It’s an impossible task though, with you in front of him lost in pleasure, tits bouncing in front of his face with the pretty sounds coming from you. Mark is too close. Embarrassingly close. He wants to prolong this as long as possible because he can’t seem to ever get enough.

“You’re not the sweet, innocent girl everyone thinks you are, are you?” he spits and you’re too fucked out to decipher his words. “W-what,” your words combine with a moan because you yourself feel the forming of another orgasm in your lower abdomen and attempt to meet his thrusts halfway to reach euphoria. Tears are threatening to fall, makeup smeared, but you don’t give a care in the world as Mark continues.

“You act like an innocent school girl who’s gonna break if she receives one insult,” he scoffs. “But you’re not,” before he can finish his string of words, he’s pulling his cock out of you to turn you around onto your stomach. You yelp at the action before you feel his arm hook around your waist, bringing you up to your knees.

“You’re dirty, walking around in clothing that barely covers your body, so what? So you can get fucked?” you gasp as Mark plunges his cock back inside from behind, the new angle making you squirm. He has his lip caught between his teeth as he continues with the pace he exercised prior.

“Mark I-i’ll come,” you're dropping to your elbows after your arms give out. It seems as if Mark is in the same boat as you when his thrusts become faster and more aggressive; if that’s even possible. Your brain feels like a puddle of mush, the band threatening to snap again.

“You got what you wanted,” he leans down to hover against your ear with his chin against your nape, not stopping the addictive pace of his thrusts. “But you got it all wrong.”

“Mark d-don’t stop! Fuck!”

He brings his arm back below you and pinches your clit. "From now on, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you. Got it?" You're not sure if it's the hazy words that come out of his mouth or the way he explores your body, but you're at the point where you'll do anything to get to the goal given that your legs are shaking. You’re so close, and you want it so fucking bad.

“Yes! Fuck yes!”

“So good. Come for me, baby,” He rasps, unable to hide how fucked out he is. With a few more thrusts from Mark, the coil finally snaps and your entire body convulses underneath him. He keeps going even after this, pursuing his high and intensifying the orgasm. You're shaking and sobbing, and it's spreading throughout your body, beginning in your lower belly and progressing throughout. It’s consuming you completely, the addicting high turning your body into a mass of nothing. A moan threatens to escape from your throat, but to no avail, not a single sound comes about.

"Holy shit, so fucking tight," your pussy spasms around his cock, making it difficult for Mark to move, but it's enough for him to reach his, cum painting your walls as he rides out both of your peaks; Your cum and his mix together as it drips down your body.

You feel your entire body collapse back onto the mattress as you come down, and your consciousness battles with the idea of sleep as it wanders.

Not soon after, it finally gives in.

The intense rays of the sun through the drapes forces you awake, eyelids fluttering at the intrusion. You rub your eyes before opening them, and after a few moments, you realize that this isn't your room, and memories from the night before resurface. While twisting your body around to the opposing side, a small smile appears on your lips.

Mark is fast asleep beneath the sheets, his features serene. You simply want to continue watching him sleep with no expression on his face because he's simply, well, gorgeous. But you quickly second-guess yourself and determine that, yes, this is a little weird, therefore getting up to use the restroom to distract yourself was the best decision.

Before your feet can touch the cold floor, a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your original position. Except, this time, Mark’s arms are wrapped around your entire figure, his chin resting against the crown of your head.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while," he declares, lids remaining closed.

You melt against him, with a small laugh pervading the room, and say, "Okay."

Soon after, you're both falling asleep once more, bodies entangled like they were the night before, but for a completely different reason.

2K notes · View notes

genshinluvr · 10 months

Text

Seeing Stars

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Nanook x Isekai'd!Reader)

Summary: Your and Nanook's intimate moment was interrupted by your Astral Express traveling companions. Caelus spots a hickey on your neck, you make a poor excuse regarding that hickey, and all of a sudden, you find Nanook balls deep inside you. Needless to say, Nanook is called the Aeon of Destruction for a reason. And that reason isn't because of destroying the universe, but because he's going to be destroying your insides.

Note: First (horribly written) smut for Honkai Star Rail >:D I don't know how to feel about the smuts I write— I'm not a fan of the smuts I write, but I hope this is at least a tiny bit decent. For those who are new, I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more toward AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, oral (both receiving), deep throating, fingering, hair pulling, biting, tummy bulge, Nanook's got a big dick (are we surprised? No), cervix fucking, creampie, slight overstimulation, squirting (Nanook is called the Aeon of Destruction for a reason ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

Word Count: 7k

You wake up to feeling someone snake their arms around your waist, pulling you against their chest. You crack one eye open and peek at the clock hanging above the door. You rub your eyes and stretch your arms and legs while yawning. A deep chuckle breaks the silence of your bedroom, causing you to jolt and turn to look at the person lying beside you. Nanook is propped up on his left arm, gazing at you with amusement.

“Why are you awake so early?” Nanook asks, peeking at the clock.

You stare at Nanook sleepily. Nanook looks away from the clock, and the two of you lock eyes for a moment. Aeons above… Nanook is so breathtaking. Nanook lies beside you with a soft groan, wrapping his right arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest. You instinctively wrap your arms around his slim waist and bury your face into the nape of his neck.

You sigh. “I can ask you the same. It’s early in the morning, and yet you’re over here, watching me sleep like a creep,” you joke, poking Nanook’s shirtless chest with your pointer finger.

Nanook chuckles and tightens his grip around your waist, kissing the side of your head. You close your eyes and slowly drift to sleep. As you’re falling asleep, the door to your room slides open. You groan to yourself and continue to keep your face buried in Nanook’s neck. Whoever slides the door open, you’re hoping they’ll leave soon.

“March, if it’s you, please let me and Nanook sleep in peace. It’s still early in the morning, and I want to sleep in before it’s early afternoon,” you say, your voice muffled against Nanook’s neck.

The person, you assume is March, huffs before stomping out of your room and sliding the door close. You peek from Nanook’s neck to see the bedroom is empty. You look at Nanook, who sighs and rests his head on the stacks of pillows. At least you and Nanook are alone, and March isn’t going to try to drag you out of your room at the crack of dawn. You stare at the Aeon of Destruction lying beside you. Nanook raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips curving up into a smirk.

Nanook leans in and kisses the corner of your lips. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he cages you between his body and your bed. You peek to see his arms beside your head, his biceps bulging as he adjusts himself above you. You gulp audibly when you notice he’s shirtless. While you did poke his shirtless chest not long ago, you didn’t fully realize that the Aeon of Destruction was shirtless the entire time. “How in the world did you not notice?”

“Why are you so pretty? Who gave you permission to be this breathtaking?” You mutter as your eyes trail up from his abs to his face.

Nanook laughs and grips your chin with one hand while balancing his entire weight with the other arm. You and Nanook look into each other's eyes, not saying anything. Nanook looks down at your lips, his eyes half-lidded. You bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes when his face gets near.

Nanook’s nose brushes against yours, shutting his eyes. Nanook presses his lips against yours, lowering himself onto you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you by wrapping one leg around his slim waist. Nanook breaks the kiss and begins pressing his lips on your jawlines. Nanook trails his lips from your jaws to your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on your neck.

You tangle your fingers in Nanook’s hair, tilting your head to the side to give him more space to leave small kisses and nibbles behind. Nanook kneels above you, slips his hands beneath your shirt, and gropes your chest.

“Fuck, Nanook,” you whisper, wrapping your other leg around his waist.

Nanook takes that as an opportunity to grind his groin against yours. You involuntarily squeeze your legs around his waist, whimpering when Nanook’s cock rubs against your aching entrance. You claw Nanook’s back as the Aeon continues to litter your neck with kisses. Nanook latches his lips against your neck, lightly sucking on your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair, rolling your hips against his. Nanook groans into your neck, his hands trailing from your chest to the globes of your ass, squeezing them tightly and making you grind your heat against his throbbing cock. You let out a quiet, strained gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Nanook’s pubic bone presses up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

Nanook cups your face from under your chin and tilts your head up. You stare at Nanook— eyes glazed over with pleasure and want. Nanook smirks and pecks your lips. You pout at Nanook, getting ready to protest about him stopping, when there’s a knock at the door. You and Nanook freeze in your spots, slowly looking at the door like a deer caught in headlights.

You clear your throat. “March?” You call out.

“It’s Dan Heng. Did I wake you up by any chance?” Dan Heng asks through the closed door of your room.

“No, you didn’t wake me up. But what you did do is ruin the chance of me getting fucked deep into my mattress by the Aeon of Destruction, that’s what.” You think bitterly to yourself while Nanook cracks a smile beside you. Dan Heng clears his throat from behind the door as if he’s letting you know he’s waiting for your response. You shake your head as Nanook gets off you, lying beside you with one arm tucked underneath his head.

You sit up and rub your eyes with your knuckles. “Not really. March snuck into my room a moment ago, and I told her to let me sleep in. Did something happen?” You ask, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

“Uh, yes, we were wondering if Nanook is in the room with you. Caelus mentioned he peeked into Nanook’s room, only to see it was empty, and he speculated that Nanook snuck into your room,” Mr. Yang speaks up from behind the door.

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps in Nanook’s direction. Nanook looks unbothered as he settles in your bed with his hands behind his head. March went into your room not long ago, and she didn't tell any of the three men about Nanook being in your room? Either she's up to something, or she didn't mention it to the men because she forgot. You clear your throat, looking over at Nanook. The Aeon of Destruction shrugs his shoulders, closing his eyes and rolling over on his side to wrap his arms around your waist.

How are you supposed to answer Mr. Yang's question!? It's not like you're banned from sleeping in the same bed as Nanook, right? You open your mouth to answer Mr. Yang's question, but all of a sudden, Nanook gets off your bed and walks to the door. Your eyes widen, and you kneel, attempting to grab Nanook's wrist, but he slips from your fingers. Nanook grabs the door and slides it open, leaning against the doorframe.

“And there he is,” Caelus comments, propping his hands on his hips while staring at the Aeon blankly.

Nanook raises his eyebrows at Caelus, who continues to stare at him expressionless. You toss your blanket off your body and stumble over to where the four men are standing. You can feel the awkward tension between them— especially between Caelus and Nanook. You clear your throat to break the awkward tension.

“Is there a reason why you were searching for Nanook? Did something happen?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.

Mr. Yang smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nothing happened. However, Caelus has voiced his concern over Nanook constantly disappearing in the middle of the night,” replies Mr. Yang.

Caelus looks away, clearing his throat. Caelus' cheeks and the tips of his ears are almost as red as Himeko's hair, only a couple of shades lighter. You chuckle while Nanook raises his eyebrows at the silver-haired man before you two. Nanook turns to you, giving you an exasperated look before turning to the three men outside of your bedroom.

Nanook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, when I decided to take the form of a human, I did it to protect my little star, alright? I did not sign up to have people hovering over me and watching my every move,” Nanook states, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the trio.

Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang all stare at Nanook. Nanook sighs, turns to you, and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you toward him. You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing the small of Nanook's back to comfort him. You're aware of how the other men act around you, but you don't think much about it. However, Nanook isn't fond that there are nine other people who share the same sentiments as he does when it comes to you, his little star, his little one.

“Do you not remember what happened prior to your arrival to the Astral Express, Nanook, Aeon of Destruction?” Dan Heng demands, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the towering figure beside you.

Nanook glares at the shorter man, his nostril flaring. “I am very well aware of what happened. Why do you think I am here?” The Aeon snarls.

By this point, Nanook and Dan Heng are standing toe to toe— Nanook glaring down and Dan Heng glaring up at the Aeon. Mr. Yang and Caelus place their hands on Dan Heng's shoulders, pulling him back. Dan Heng lets out an infuriated exhale through his nose, glaring to the side with his arms over his chest.

You clear your throat. “Nanook and I will get ready for the day now, alright? Let's talk after,” you say, turning away by is stopped by Caelus gently grabbing your biceps.

“Is that a hickey?” Caelus asks, his eyes zeroing in on the base of your neck.

You quickly cover your neck, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. “Oh, fuck.” You did not know that the Aeon of Destruction left a hickey on your neck. You turn to Nanook, who looks away with his lips puckered. You narrow your eyes at Nanook, exhaling slowly through your nose while trying to remain calm. Great. First, there's tension between Nanook and Dan Heng, and now Caelus has decided to point out the apparent love bite on your neck, thus making the tension grow.

It's faint, but it's there.

“It's not a hickey! I actually burnt myself with a hair straightener!” You say.

Okay, not the best excuse you can come up with, but it's the best you can do, and you're hoping they're dumb enough to believe your little white lie. But knowing the three men standing before you and Nanook, they're not as dumb as you hoped they would be in this situation. I mean, what else were you supposed to say? “Yes, it's a hickey on my neck. Nanook marked my neck, and before this entire interaction, we were so close to taking it farther, but that didn't happen?”

Mr. Yang leans forward to get a better look at your neck. He gently grabs you by the jaws and tilts your head to the side. If you weren't in an awkward situation right now, you would've been blushing like a teenager because of the way Mr. Yang grabbed your jaws. He's so gentle, but he also reminds you of a stern father who caught his kid doing something naughty.

“It doesn't look like a burn,” Mr. Yang murmurs.

You grab Mr. Yang's hands and laugh nervously. “That’s because they're kind of new! I borrowed Himeko's straightener, and well, this happened,” you say, gesturing to the mark on your neck.

You release Mr. Yang's hand and rub the hickey. Aeons, this is even more awkward than you thought. Mr. Yang hums, crossing his arms over his chest, and looks at Dan Heng and Caelus. Just as you feared, Caelus, Dan Heng, and Mr. Yang don't believe your little white lie.

For now, the best thing you can do is to retreat to your room (with Nanook), get ready for the day, and hope that this entire situation dies down. You quickly retreat to your room, grabbing Nanook by the wrist and pulling him with you. Before you shut the door in Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus' faces, you give them a fake smile.

“We'll talk about this after Nanook and I get ready for the day! While it's still super early in the morning, today will be the only day I get up early,” you say, slamming the door shut without waiting for their response.

After you slam the door in the three men's faces, Dan Heng turns to look at Mr. Yang with a deep frown. Caelus pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, propping his hands on his hips.

“That is definitely a hickey on [Y/N]'s neck,” Caelus says.

Dan Heng rolls his eyes. “Do they think we're that stupid to believe they were burned by a hair straightener?” Dan Heng mutters, walking away with Mr. Yang and Caelus following.

Back in your bedroom, you walk to your dresser and pull out clean undergarments to change into after taking a shower. You're not the type to take showers in the morning, but this time will be the only time you'll shower in the morning. Well, “morning” since you're traversing through space, and there's no time of day, really. While searching for something to wear in your closet, Nanook snakes his arms around your waist and buries his face into the nape of your neck.

You close your eyes and rest your head against his before continuing to do what you were doing.

You're not sure what you want to wear. You're on the fence about whether you want to wear something short and breathable or long and warm because there's a possible chance the Astral Express is going to be stopping by Jarilo-VI. You blank out for a moment when Nanook's big, warm, calloused hands sneak under your shirt to give your chest a light squeeze.

“Well, aren't you needy today?” You murmur, gazing at the Aeon of Destruction from the corner of your eyes.

Nanook ignores your comment, continuing to squeeze your chest and kissing your neck repeatedly. You shiver when Nanook presses his lips against a specific sensitive spot on your neck. Nanook smirks against your neck and continues where he left off before he is interrupted by Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang. Nanook grabs the bottom of your jaw with his right hand, tilts your head to the side, and continues to nibble on your neck.

“Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?” Nanook murmurs against your neck.

You grab his hand from underneath your shirt and lace your fingers with his. “I could say the same with you. You're over here parading around my bedroom shirtless with your sweat pants hanging very low around your hips,” you reply.

Nanook hums against your neck, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. Nanook's eyes nearly roll to the back of his neck after taking deep breaths of your shampoo. He can never get enough of you, and the more he has to wait, the more he feels his sanity slipping away. Without thinking, Nanook opens his mouth wide and bites down on the area where your neck and shoulders meet.

“Ah! Nanook!” You whine softly, shuddering in his arms as he manhandles you to your bed.

You fall limp in Nanook's arms as he practically drags you to your bed and tosses you like a rag doll. You stare at the ceiling— Nanook's shadow casts over you as he hovers above you, knees on each side of your hips. You gulp as the Aeon of Destruction cages you against your bed, his bangs nearly covering his eyes. Oh, you like this very much.

Nanook leans down, his lips beside your ear. “What is it, little one?” Nanook whispers.

You close your eyes, heart pounding against your chest as the Aeon above you softly nudges his nose against your cheek and slowly trails down to your neck. Never in your life would you think the Aeon of Destruction has a lot of pent-up frustrations. Can Aeons have babies? Can they reproduce? Nanook's human form certainly has a dick, but does it— Nanook bites down on your neck for the second time.

“You know I can hear your thoughts, right?” Nanook murmurs against your neck.

Your eyes snap open, and you look at Nanook like a fish out of water. Nanook pulls away from your neck and wipes his lips, smirking down at you. You gaped at him.

“Wait, you can hear my thoughts?”

Nanook nods, his shoulders bouncing as he gazes at you with amusement. “Yes, I can hear your thoughts. Did you happen to forget that we're connected with each other?” Nanook asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You squint at Nanook, not sure whether you should believe what he's saying or not. Maybe you can say something random, and he'll have to respond to your questions. The Aeon of Destruction mindlessly massages your hipbone, waiting for you to say something. Or at least think of something so he can reply. Aside from wanting you to respond to him, Nanook wants to fuck you against the mattress already. Blood continues to rush down to his semi-harden cock as he waits (im)patiently.

You stare at Nanook like a deer caught in headlights. If you were to ask this question, would he hear it and possibly humiliate you for it? It’s worth a shot. “Do you know how bad I need you to fuck me into the mattress right now? I desperately need you inside me, or else I'll go crazy.”

Nanook smirks and leans down. “Is that so? You don't have to tell me twice, Little One. I've always wanted to hear what I can coax out of you while you're writhing beneath me,” Nanook murmurs. “Remember that dream of yours a while back?” He latches his lips onto your earlobes, lightly biting your ear.

Dream? Meaning the wet dream you had of Nanook before it was rudely interrupted by March, Dan Heng, and Caelus? The very same wet dream where it felt so real that it made you question whether it was a real thing or just a dream? You swallow the lump in your throat, sputtering out nonsense as you try to wrap your head around the wet dream you had months prior to Nanook's arrival.

“Wait, was that a dream, or was it mental communication the entire time?” You ask breathlessly.

Nanook shrugs above you, hands sneaking back under your shirt to squeeze your chest and tweak your nipples between his thumb and index finger. You gaze at the Aeon above you, wondering if what happened between you and Nanook was mental communication or if it was just another wet dream.

“Nanook?” You ask, lightly tugging on his soft hair.

Nanook snorts and releases your earlobe from between his teeth. The Aeon of Destruction will be destroying something else rather than the entirety of the universe. You would rather have Nanook destroy your insides than the universe, so you'd like to think you're saving everyone by letting the Aeon of Destruction become the Aeon of Destroying your insides. With one swift motion, Nanook tears your shirt off and tosses them to the ground.

Your nipples harden when cool air makes contact with your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. Nanook's lips trail down to your chest and suck on your nipple while tweaking the neglected nipple. You shudder underneath Nanook, wrapping your legs around his waist while he licks and lightly bites your nipples. You cover your mouth to muffle the moans, and Nanook doesn't like that. Without thinking, Nanook bites down on your nipple hard, making you cry out in pain.

“Nanook! Why did you bite my nipple?” You whine, gazing at the Aeon with teary eyes.

Nanook unlatches his lips from your nipples before sitting back on your bed. “I don't want you to cover your moans. I want the others to hear that I'm the one that's making you moan and whimper,” Nanook says, frowning at you.

You gulp and watch Nanook get off your bed and start taking his sweatpants off. You look away with embarrassment when you notice a prominent bulge beneath his boxers. It's bigger than you thought it would be. The Aeon grabs you by your ankles and pulls you toward the edge of your bed. You look at Nanook's face, making sure not to look down at the large tent forming in his pants.

Nanook chuckles, caressing your face. “Why are you suddenly shy, Little one? You were so bold and now look at you,” Nanook teases, lightly pinching your cheek. “A shy little thing.”

You bristled at Nanook's comment, looking at the Aeon with a heated glare. Unphased by your glare, Nanook laughs and leans down to kiss your lips. Nanook hooks his fingers around the band of your shorts and panties before looking at you, waiting for you to give him the signal to continue. Despite being the Aeon of Destruction, he sure is gentle. You nod, silently telling him to strip you bare.

One minute you have your pants and panties on. The next, you're completely bare in front of the Aeon of Destruction. You quickly cover your naked body with your blanket, making Nanook click his tongue with disapproval. Nanook grabs the blanket from your grasp, yanks it off your bare body, and throws it behind him without breaking eye contact. Heat rushes to your cheek when you realize the Aeon before you are gazing at your body with hunger and lust. As if Nanook wasn't big already, you could've sworn Nanook's dick grew in his boxers.

“It's not fair that I'm the only one naked, and you're still semi-dressed,” you mutter.

Nanook takes his eyes off your body before gesturing for you to sit up. You push yourself up and look at Nanook quizzically as he grabs your hand and places them on his hips. You blink at him as he looks down at you, waiting for you to do something. You clear your throat, pointing at his boxers and then at yourself.

“You want me to take your boxers off?” You squeak.

Nanook smirks. “What else would I want you to do? Hm?” Nanook coos, squeezing your cheeks.

You feel a lump forming in your throat. You gulp for the umpteenth time and nod, grabbing the band of Nanook's boxers and sliding his underwear down. Immediately, Nanook's cock slaps his abdomen, startling you. Nanook's boxers pool at his ankles, and he steps out of them, making his dick bob up and down with the slightest movement. You stare at Nanook's cock with wide eyes, mouth agape. Huge is an understatement at this point. This man is undoubtedly the Aeon of Destruction because you know Nanook's cock is going to be destroying your insides.

“That's not going to fit,” you state, looking at Nanook.

Nanook shrugs, hooking one arm underneath your knees and the other under your back before tossing you on the bed. Nanook crawls over you and slides his hands up your legs and to your thighs, pushing your legs apart to look at your glistening folds. You're too busy staring at Nanook's cock. The mushroom tip of his dick is a deep red, pre-cum beating at the silt of his cock, dripping down the base of his dick. You lick your lips.

Nanook runs his hands through his hair. “We'll make it fit,” Nanook states.

Nanook dips his fingers and runs them through your folds, making you shudder and gasp. Nanook inserts his index finger into your entrance, looking at your face for a certain reaction. You bite your lips and squeeze your eyes shut when his index finger continues to sink into your sopping-wet entrance. Nanook keeps your legs spread open with one hand as he continues to drill his index finger in and out of your squelching hole.

“This is so embarrassing,” you whine softly, becoming flustered the louder the squelching gets.

You let out a shaky gasp when Nanook inserts his middle finger into your entrance. The velvety walls of your entrance squeezed and pulsed around his thick, long fingers.

“Your body is reacting really well to what I'm doing,” Nanook murmurs, watching you gasp and arch your back when the tip of his fingers hit your cervix.

You grit your teeth and reach for Nanook's throbbing cock. Nanook rubs the bundle of nerves with the tip of his thumb, watching you let out a breathy moan and throw your head back with pleasure as you stroke his cock. Nanook groans, letting you stroke his stiff cock. The Aeon watches you stroke and squeeze his cock, rubbing your thumb over the bulbous tip of his cock and spreading the pre-cum around the tip of his dick.

While Nanook continues to finger you and stroke the engorged nub, you sit up to get a taste of his cock. Nanook looks at you quizzically when you sit up, unsure of what you're doing. You latch your lips around the mushroom tip of his cock, licking the pre-cum and briefly sucking on the head of his dick. Taken aback, Nanook moans and curls his fingers inside your entrance, making you jolt and squeeze around his fingers.

You begin bobbing your head on his cock, taking him deeper into your mouth. Nanook's fingers slip out of your entrance before tangling his fingers into your hair, tugging at the roots, moaning, and pushing your head further down on his cock. You nearly gag when the tip of his cock hits your throat. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, stroking the base of his cock while fondling and massaging his balls.

Nanook groans and starts thrusting into your mouth, fucking your face while tangling his fingers in your hair. His steady thrusts soon become fast, feeling his cock reach deeper into your throat. Nanook guides your head up and down his cock repeatedly until your nose is pressing up against his pubes. You dig your nails into his ass cheeks, tears brimming your eyes and rolling down your cheeks when his cock hits your throat.

You take deep breaths through your nostrils, trying not to gag. Nanook pulls his cock out from your mouth and pushes you on your back, and spreads your legs wide open for him to see your slick entrance. You breathe heavily, wiping the tears on the sides of your cheeks while Nanook rubs the engorged bundle of nerves with his index finger.

“Are you alright?” Nanook asks, looking at you as he continues to rub the nub between your legs.

You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I'm alright,” you reply meekly.

Nanook hums before tossing both your legs over his shoulders with his face a few inches from your heat. You gulp, combing your fingers through Nanook's soft hair. Nanook pulls you forward and buries his face into your entrance, his tongue flat on your entrance and lapping up your juices. You throw your head back, and your back arches, thighs clamping over his head as the Aeon of Destruction eat you out like a starving man. You cover your mouth with your other hand, whimpering and panting against the palm of your hands.

Nanook swirls his tongue over your entrance, your bundle of nerves messily. The sounds of your muffle moans and Nanook slurping your juices fills your bedroom. Nanook penetrates your heat with his tongue, and the tip of his nose presses against your swollen nub. Nanook shakes his head, thrusting his tongue in and out of your heat, making you squeal.

“Oh, fuck, Nanook!” You gasp, feet planted on his shirtless back as the Aeon of Destruction continues to tongue-fuck you, bringing you close to your orgasm. “Nanook, fuck. I'm going to cum if you continue to do that!”

Nanook pulls away from your sopping-wet heat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Nanook crawls up to you, his arms caging you against the mattress. Nanook stares down at you, a sense of pride swelling in his chest when he sees the effect he has on you. Your eyes are glazed over with lust, and your mouth is agape while your chest is heaving with deep breaths. Nanook taps your cheek lightly to grab your attention. You look at Nanook with hazy eyes, taking gulps of air.

Nanook snickers and leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. You taste yourself on Nanook's tongue— the tanginess pooling on your tongue as you and Nanook kiss. While distracted, Nanook grabs his throbbing cock and rubs the underside of his dick between your legs, coating his cock in your essence.

The bulbous tip of his cock lightly brushes against your aching nub, causing you to hiss softly and shudder underneath him. Nanook pulls from the kiss and looks down as he lines the mushroom tip of his cock in front of your entrance. You lick your lips, lift your head to see what he's doing. Nanook presses the hot tip of his dick against your entrance. You gulp and look at Nanook, who's staring at you intently.

Nanook kisses your forehead. “Are you ready?” Nanook murmurs against your forehead.

You nod in response. After getting your confirmation, Nanook takes a breath and pushes the tip into your heat. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel the mushroom tip breaching your entrance, squeezing your eyes shut.

A deep growl emits from Nanook's chest as he sinks his cock into you. Nanook rests on his forearms as you wrap your legs around his waist. Nanook latches his teeth onto your neck, inching his cock into you slowly. Your velvety walls squeeze and pulse around his throbbing cock, driving Nanook crazy. You pant, digging your nails into his back and clawing Nanook's back, leaving angry marks behind.

The tip of Nanook's cock hits something deep inside you, causing you to tense up and wail meekly. Nanook pants looking down to see he didn't sink all the way into your warm entrance. Nanook almost sunk the entirety of his cock into your sopping entrance, but the bulbous tip of his cock hit something. Your thighs tense around Nanook's waist, legs trembling from your walls stretching around Nanook's dick to accommodate his size.

“Nanook,” you whisper.

Nanook frowns, eyebrows furrowing. Nanook thrusts forward, trying to fit the entirety of his cock inside you, only for it not to work. Nanook leans down and preppers your face with gentle kisses. You pant against Nanook's neck, tears brimming your eyes each time the tip of his dick nudges your cervix. It hurts like a bitch, but it feels so fucking food. Nanook whispers a soft, ‘I'm sorry, Little one’ into your ears. You open one eye to look at Nanook, unsure of why he's apologizing.

Your eyelids fly open when Nanook grips your pillow tightly, ramming his cock all the way into your tight entrance. You wail and flail beneath Nanook, legs wrapping around his waist tightly as you whimper into his chest. Nanook groans and presses his hips hard against your hips, his nails digging into your pillow.

“A-Ah! N-Nanook!” You squeak, face contorting in pain.

Nanook pants, peeking down at you. You gaze at Nanook, tears in your eyes, bottom lips trembling. Nanook feels something stir within him when he sees you underneath him, naked, tearing up, stuffed full with his cock. Nanook's cock twitches inside you as he gulps. Nanook leans down and presses his lips against yours, wiping away the tear making its way down your cheek.

You involuntarily clench around Nanook's throbbing cock. Nanook hisses and pulls away from your lips, closing his eyes while trying to keep his sanity intact, or else he'll lose control. Nanook buries his hands in your hair, gently pulling your hair and tilting your head to the side to lightly nibble on your neck.

“Little one, you're so tight. Try to relax for me, sweetheart,” Nanook grunts into your neck.

Nanook unlatches his lips from your neck before clenching his jaws as he tries to hold back the urge to fuck you into your mattress until you scream. You pant, digging your nails deep into Nanook's back as you try to take your mind off the fact Nanook shoved the entirety of his huge cock deep into your entrance. Fuck. Your swollen bundle of nerves is throbbing, and you feel your entrance becoming wetter with each passing minute.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to relax. How does one relax when you have a huge cock stuffing your hole? Nanook reaches down and begins rubbing your aching bundle of nerves with his thumb. You shudder in his arms, letting Nanook tweak your throbbing nub. Nanook kisses the side of your head, feeling you relax underneath him. You swallow the lump in your throat, patting his arm.

“You can move now, Naook,” you whisper.

Nanook nods and slowly pulls his cock out from your sopping-wet entrance, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you. Nanook gazes at his cock— it's soaked in your essence. Nanook glances at your puffy entrance; it's glistening in your juices. Nanook swears he sees your entrance pulsating with want. Nanook thrusts into your heat without warning, making you grunt and tense underneath him, your hands shooting up to grip your pillow. Dear, Aeons. You feel so full. Nanook looks down at your stomach and freezes. You look at Nanook quizzically before following where his eyes are focusing on. You look at your stomach to see a bulge. With shaky hands, you poke the bump and jolt. Nanook places his hand over yours and presses down onto your stomach. You let out a needy moan as pleasure shoots up your body. Oh, fuck. Nanook is so big that his cock created a tummy bulge.

Nanook leans down, his hair tickling your cheeks. “What do you want me to do to you?” Nanook murmurs against your ears. “Say it, and I will do as you say.”

You shiver and clench around his cock, making the Aeon above you groan and squeeze your chest. What you need Nanook to do is to fuck you until you see stars dancing behind your eyelids. You want him to fuck you into your mattress until your walls mold into the shape of his dick. You whimper and close your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you think about having to beg for the Aeon of Destruction to destroy your insides and fill you to the brim with his cum.

“I want you to…” you trail off, whimpering at the slightest movement. “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk and…”

Nanook's eyes widen slightly before laughing breathlessly. “Oh? There's more?” Nanook jokes, rubbing the tip of his nose against your cheek, rutting his hips against yours.

You cover your face and lightly hit his shoulder. “Nanook! Stop teasing me!” You whine.

“Alright, alright, I'm going to stop teasing you,” Nanook sighs, kissing your forehead. “Now, continue where you left off.”

You try to form coherent sentences, but the more Nanook ruts against you, the more your mind blanks out. You wrap your legs tightly around Nanook's waist, attempting to stop him from continuing, only for you to press Nanook hard against you. Nanook snickers and kisses your jaws, waiting for you to tell him what you want him to do.

“Gosh, just please fuck me until I see stars. I don't think I can wait any longer,” you whisper.

Nanook's chest rumbles with laughter, and he leans down. “If you insist,” Nanook says, kissing the corner of your lips.

Nanook adjusts his position above you, grabs your legs, and unwraps them around his waist. You look at Nanook, confused. Nanook throws your legs over his shoulders and begins plunging his cock in and out of you repeatedly. You yelp and grab his biceps, squeezing your eyes shut as the Aeon pistons his cock into your sopping entrance. You feel your juices pool beneath your bed, spreading to the back of your thighs and onto Nanook's pubes.

Your toes curl with pleasure, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as Nanook rams the tip of his cock against your cervix until you can't hold in your moans any longer. You let out a string of groans and curses, feeling a tight knot beginning to form in your lower abdomen. You clench your jaws when your legs start to feel tingly and numb. You close your eyes and rock your hips against Nanook's hips, his pubic bone pressing and rubbing against your swollen nub.

You shiver, and your velvety walls squeeze around the Aeon's dick. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, clawing Nanook's back.

Nanook tangles his hands into your hair and pulls your hair back before biting down on your neck hard. You cry out in pain and clench around Nanook's cock as he continues to ram his dick in and out of your squelching entrance vigorously. You can see stars dancing behind your vision with each thrust. You tilt your head back against your pillow as tears trail down your cheeks. You don't know how much longer you can handle being fucked by Nanook. Nanook removes your legs from his shoulders, keeping your legs spread open as he pistons his cock deep into your quivering entrance. Nanook pulls his dick out, leaving only the tip inside before slamming back into your heat. Your back arches, and you choke out a moan as the Aeon repeats his actions. Nanook's thrusts soon become sloppy the longer he continues to ram the bulbous tip of his cock in and out of your dripping entrance. You claw your bedsheets, the knot in your lower abdomen becoming incredibly tight.

“Fuck, Nanook. I'm going to cum,” you whimper.

Your velvety walls squeeze around Nanook's cock tightly. Nanook groans and collapses on top of you as you cum around his cock. Nanook takes a deep breath before proceeding to plunge his thick, long cock in and out of your squelching heat. Nanook reaches for your engorged nub and begins pinching, squeezing, and rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Your eyes widen, and you squeal loudly, squirming beneath Nanook.

“It's too much, Nanook! It's too much!” You sob.

Nanook ignores your cries and continues to stimulate your engorged bundle of nerves while plunging his cock into you as deeply as he can get it. Nanook groans, shooting hot ropes of cum deep inside your entrance as the walls of your hole convulse around his dick. Liquid jets out your entrance, wetting Nanook's lower abdomen and pubes. Nanook gazes at you with wide eyes while you continue to tremble due to overstimulation.

Nanook releases your swollen nub and slowly pulls his cock from your entrance. Nanook groans and lays beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to his chest. You shudder and close your eyes while your legs continue to tremble. Nanook tucks your hair behind your ears, nibbling on your earlobe as he pulls the blanket over your naked bodies.

“Did you see the stars?” Nanook teases.

You look at Nanook with bleary eyes. “I think I saw something else other than stars,” you whisper.

You snuggle up against Nanook, closing your eyes. Nanook runs his fingers through your hair while you feel yourself start to drift off to sleep. Right when you're about to fall asleep, a knock is heard at the door of your bedroom. Your eyelids fly open, and you hold the blanket to your chest. You look at Nanook like a deer caught in headlights while the Aeon of Destruction yawns and peeks at the door, uninterested.

“Who is it?” You call out, clearing your throat.

“Are you two done with fucking each other's brains out? You've been keeping us waiting for a while,” Sampo whines from behind the door.

You sit up and look at Nanook in horror while the Aeon presses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from bursting out laughing. You lightly smack Nanook's shoulders, cheeks flaming hot as you try not to freak out. Us?! What does Sampo mean by ‘us’!? Does this mean that other people heard you and Nanook fuck?!

You toss the blanket over your head. “Who's at the door with you, Sampo? And how long have you guys been standing there?” You ask.

“Uh... Blade, General Jing Yuan, Luocha, Luka, and Gepard are also here with me. Mr. Yang, Caelus, and Dan Heng told us you were getting ready, but he didn't tell us that you and the Aeon of Destruction were getting freaky with each other,” Sampo says nonchalantly.

Luka laughs from behind the door. “I can see why he's called the Aeon of Destruction now,” Luka jokes.

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into Nanook's bare chest. Can someone please end your misery?

"Do you guys think we'll get our turns next?" Sampo whispers.

Nanook raises his eyebrows at Sampo’s question. You peek your head out from underneath the blanket, hoping it won’t be very awkward after you and Nanook take a shower and show up at the Parlor Car. More importantly, you really hope the others don’t tell Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus about what they heard.

Note: Not going to lie, I liked the first half of this fic, and toward the end is where I started feeling iffy about the smut. I don't know about you guys, but I think I have created a new headcanon lore of Nanook's title of being the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook is the Aeon of Destroying Insides, that's for sure. I'm okay with this smut— I think the PDA is cute, and the teasing. But overall, I think it's a meh smut (or maybe just horribly written, but whatever). Nanook got the majority of the vote— about over 200 votes. [This part is copied and pasted from the previous fanfic regarding the Discord server] For those who want to join the Discord server but weren't able to, here is the new temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]! Please make sure to read the server rules— you can lurk, chat and hang out on the server if you'd like! If you don't vibe with the server, you can leave whenever you want ^^ To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @ashwasherelol, @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @reversearrowhead, @pinksaiyans, @n8mareee, @aurelia-xyt, @lilliansstuff, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @a-cosmicdawn, @theblades, @wntrsblvd, @raaawwwr, @immahuman, @irisxiel, @siaracarroll, @crazydreamcat, @sen-nes, @sagekun, @orichalcumthief, @dyingsweetmackerel, @rosiesareblue, @ichikanu, @asoulsreverie, @angelmican, @misdollface, @4-34-am, @sxftiebee, @hispasian-otaku (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Those who do not want to be tagged in a specific fic are not tagged. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

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feyascorner · 5 months

Text

4 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 7.6k words,,, but have a bit of Astarion POV somewhere in here featuring Gale!!

You’re dying again.

But rather than the usual nightmare consisting of him pinning you to the ground with his hands on your throat, he’s standing above you. In that dark alleyway a week ago, where the spawn had nearly taken your life. The ground feels muddy again, and despite there being nothing at your neck, you still can’t breathe.

And then, you’re alive again, lurching up from your mattress with sweaty skin sticking your nightwear to your body. After your eyes adjust to the bright sunlight flooding into your room through the window, you sigh.

You want to ask if he’d been real. If he’d truly been there that night, saving your life against the spawn despite his words just the other night. Despite the stomach-churning way, he looks at you.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. When you clamber out your door, your eyes glaze over his own, standing still as a rock just beside yours. Even though you know he’s right there, just a wooden door away, it doesn’t feel like it at all. He feels like an illusion—perhaps a ghost to haunt you for what you’d done to him. He’s been here for days now, and somehow, you feel further from him than you did when he was just a shadow of your past. Lingering. Driving you mad.

In some ways, this is worse.

Especially with the way your last interaction concluded, you’d expect yourself to feel nothing but negative turmoil for him. Yet, with the dreams haunting you every night and the endless afternoons you spend wallowing in your experiences with him in the past, it’s hard to do so.

Even more so when the terrifying force of hope grabs hold of you like a shackle to the heart.

You’re not sure if what you saw that night as an angel was really him or if you were simply hallucinating as a last-ditch attempt to console your imminent death. You hope—no, you question if he’d been the one to save you and fetch the Fist. Unfortunately, you have nobody to ask, as none of your other companions seem aware that you’d “seen” Astarion at death’s doorstep and the embarrassment that floods you intends to keep it that way.

It had to be him, surely. Why else would he have been at Elfsong Tavern that same exact day? Why else had Petras seen him the night before that, murdering that blond elf seconds after you’d been there?

Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. He’s like this by nature, like an instinct resulting from the centuries spent under Cazador’s dreadful rule. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

‘Did you save me? Why?’ you want to ask desperately. You curse your past self for ending your last conversation that way. You’d hoped it would’ve at least gone a bit better.

“Perhaps we should throw him back in the Duke’s dungeon,” Lae’zel grumbles, tearing at her piece of bread as she sits on the armchair in the living space downstairs. Why she prefers such stale food is beyond you. “That istik is clearly not helping.”

“Give him time,” you mumble, thankful that at this time of morning, most of the house is still asleep. Only you or Lae’zel seem to be awake at the break of dawn. “We don’t have much of a choice anyway, given nobody else we know is a vampire spawn.”

“I’ve already given him tenfold the time I wish to give him. If it were up to me, he’d already be dead.”

“He is dead.”

She doesn’t laugh. You snort and reach to the cabinet, where instead of your usual supplies, you find a bottle. The crimson liquid at the bottom is scarce, but there’s just enough for a few more sips if you ration it right, which is what you assume he’s been doing, considering he hasn’t asked once to go hunting.

You wonder if he’s feasted on the necks of poor beautiful maidens in the city, captured by his charm and lured to an untimely end. You imagine their long, silky hair falling across their face as they bare their necks for his teeth, wincing the first few moments they sink down. But afterward, it would feel intimate—close, even—as he lets their blood sully his own. And once he finally pulls away with a piece of their lifeline, he’d grin down at them with stained lips painting them like lipstick…

Your brows furrow, but not for them. You seriously hope he just fed on goblins, or something along those lines. You’d even look past gnomes.

“T’chaki. Whatever disgusting thoughts you’re having, I suggest you stop,” Lae’zel snaps, and you blink. “And put that bottle away. You look like you want to devour it yourself.”

You do so sheepishly. “Please tell Gale to take Astarion to the forest to gather more blood. He’ll starve to death at this rate.”

“That would be ideal. Though I wouldn’t have the pleasure of putting my own sword through his chest.”

Your frown is visibly apparent, and it deepens her own. “Such a declaration shouldn’t displease you. My people believe an attempt at murder is enough to declare war. You should be trying to kill him, should you not? He is hshar’lak.”

“For the last time, I’m not going to-”

“She’s right, you know. As rare as that is,” you nearly jump at the cleric’s voice, though Lae’zel only glares. She’s leaning on the doorway, chewing on a half-eaten apple. “I won’t force him to leave, but I do hope you seriously reconsider your decision to harbor a vampire spawn. We trusted him once, and it didn’t end so well. I’d prefer avoiding making the same mistake again.”

He saved me, you want to say. The words are on the tip of your tongue before you reel them back, sealing them into your own heart. “Why are you awake so early?”

“We’re out of supplies,” she says. “I’m going to the market. Care to tag along? I wouldn’t hate the company.”

Your eyes flicker to the stairs as if expecting something, but you force yourself back to your companions and nod. “Alright.”

He was a magistrate.

At least, that’s what he remembers. His memories of the days before his heart stopped beating are fuzzy, like they’re muffled by water as he drowns in the unending 200 years of torture. Even without Cazador, even after stabbing through his corpse a dozen times, it doesn’t feel enough. It will never be enough.

He hears the front door open downstairs and finds himself lowering his book a tad to peer down outside the window his bed is pressed up against. You clamber out, stumbling over yourself as you tie your boots halfway through the door. He can hear you calling into the house through the thin glass panes. “Apples, pork loin, what else?”

“Bread and cheese!” another shout downstairs. It’s the cleric, he deems from the tone of her voice.

“Right, right,” you snort, waiting for her to catch up with you.

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your way down the street, eventually vanishing as you round a corner leading to the main marketplace of the city. And when you’re finally gone, his attention flits back to his book, rereading the page for what feels like the millionth time.

He likes reading—as much as he can, anyway—when he’s not hunting or running from the sun as if it’ll chase him down even in the shadows. He has three books. And if someone were to ask, he’d be able to recite them all by memory.

He had a fourth one, once. One you’d gifted him, but no longer does he want it. It sits under the bed, gathering dust for what he hopes to be forever.

He hasn’t spoken to you in days, and he expects nothing less. He hasn’t spoken to anyone, really, only receiving glares from Shadowheart, ignored by Lae’zel, and—well, Gale, he supposes, offers conversation, but Astarion’s the one to avoid those particular interactions. The wizard’s absence is not the only one he’s grateful for.

Yours, for one, after how your last conversation ended, is not one he wants to risk another of. Yet, the past few days, despite never daring to approach him, he’s seen you looking from afar with the eyes of a kicked pup. But the second he comes too close, your guard is up again, your words curt, and sentences abruptly ending in his presence. Only when you think he doesn’t notice do your true feelings surface in this pathetic display. He almost pities you.

Unfortunately, in all the realms of words he’s described himself as he has never considered himself a sympathetic person.

He revels in your obsession with him. One that he will no longer reciprocate.

He glances at the empty jar of blood on the bedside table and clenches his jaw.

A hefty bit of time later, when he’s sure most have left the home, he climbs down the stairs where the first floor is still overtaken with darkness. The curtains have been put up in a clumsy manner, but they do their job efficiently enough, as he’s allowed to pace across the wooden floors and reaches for a drawer beside the sink. There’s a glass bottle of animal blood inside–it’s running dangerously low.

“You look awfully drained.”

Astarion fights the urge to groan at Gale’s voice.

“If that’s your attempt at vampiric humor, I hope you’re aware it would only have hungry spawns lunging for your neck,” he shoots back, snatching the bottle and popping it open with a swift move of his thumb and lifting it to his lips. He drinks, gulping down whatever’s left. While on any other occasion, he’d feel appalled at not even using a goblet, his hunger has been itching at him for days, now. If he didn’t know how foul Gale’s blood tasted, he might’ve even considered the damned wizard.

“I’m warning you, I taste positively terrible.” Ah, he must have been staring.

“I assure you, I’d more likely scout the city for rats before drinking another drop of your blood,” Astarion retorts back, setting down the glass bottle. “Now, please hurry and tell me what in the hells you want before I escape for those aforementioned rats.”

“Adjusting well to your life here, I presume?”

Astarion stares at him like he grew a second head.

“I was jesting.”

“You do a poor job at it.”

Gale sighs irritably. “You haven’t come downstairs in days; we’d thought you were dead already…again.”

“I’d rather not be in the presence of multiple people who appear ready to lop off my head at any moment,” Astarion snaps. “As much as I’d love decapitation for my cause of death, now is not the right time for such events.”

Neither of them laugh.

“The others…” Gale takes his time talking as if he’s searching for words that aren’t there, and it makes Astarion’s eye twitch. “You understand why they’re apprehensive about you being here. In all honesty, I am too.”

The spawn’s brows knit together, and he rolls his eyes. “Whether or not they want me here, it was their choice to keep me trapped in this bloody house. Even when I insisted I didn’t know a damned thing about what my dear siblings were up to, your leader chose to “take responsibility” for me...whatever that means. So by all means, Gale, just open the door for me, let them know I won’t be returning, and you’ll never see me again.”

Astarion expects him to yell at him, snap at him, maybe even cast a spell, but he expects him to do something with the words that spill out of his mouth like vomit. But instead, the wizard opens his mouth, shuts it again, and seems to be in thought. “I haven’t heard you talk for so long in ages. Nice to know your endlessly running mouth is still there.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts, his eyes flitting to the curtains messily nailed onto the wood surrounding the windows, and Astarion can see his face fall. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you go, for I’ve made a promise with Tav to check in on you in place of themselves…and the others, of course. And I may be a man of many words, but I am not a man of lies.”

Astarion almost laughs at the irony. “Is that what hiding the bomb in your chest was? Honesty?”

“Oh, please,” he waves him off. “That was eons ago! And besides, I’ve got that all sorted now, so no more eating magical pairs of shoes…thank the Gods. Though the magical enhanced gems weren’t so bad-”

“Please tell me someone other than yourself will be hovering over me like a parasite.”

“I’m afraid not,” Gale smiles. “Lae’zel wouldn’t hesitate for a vampire head hanging over the fireplace, Shadowheart would most likely place a curse on you, and Tav rarely comes home at all. So, unfortunately, and also most fortunately, you are stuck with yours truly.”

Astarion groans. And though he’s about to shoot him with another quip, the front door swings open, and Shadowheart steps into the house. When she notices him standing beside the kitchen, her body visibly tenses.

“You’re supposed to stay in your room.”

“I’m also not supposed to starve to death in that room, as much as I’m sure you’d approve of that.”

Her gaze flickers to the empty bottle of blood, and immediately, her face hardens. She narrows her eyes, and Gale, as usual, steps forward. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not get too hasty-”

“If you are ever starving to death,” she glares. “You best hope not Tav is the only person around. If you ever even ask them for their blood again, I’ll show you just how much blood you have stored up.”

Astarion scoffs, grinning. “Such a terrifying foe you are. But there truly is no need to worry so much. I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop again. Not anymore.”

Shadowheart looks only half convinced, but after a moment of contemplation, the atmosphere turns less rigid, and she sighs, stepping backward. “I really did not miss having a vampire in our home.”

He’s about to let out another condescending laugh when he hears a shift in the dirt outside the open door. Neither of the others seems to notice. “And for the record, if you ask me for blood, you’ll end up even worse.”

Right then, he watches you step into the house, arms stuffed with paper bags filled to the brim with fruits, meat, and bread, and you nearly stumble on your own legs as you try to guide yourself to the kitchen counter. “Did we really need this much for just a week?”

“Of course we did. My famed stew is not made so haphazardly, you know. It requires skills, talents, and lots and lots of patience-”

You finally set down the groceries and notice Astarion’s presence in the room. He knows you do because of the way your posture straightens, becoming more guarded. It makes the corner of his lips lift in a way that’s sure to make you uneasy.

But when your gazes finally meet briefly, you turn away as if it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

His eyes widen. Did you just ignore him?

He shifts, just enough to catch your attention, but all you do is listen to Gale’s ramble about his bloody stew. He’s sure nobody on Faerun gives a damn about his soup at this very moment, and you're no exception. Yet you’re clearly preferring his words over Astarion’s glares in such a blatant display.

You are ignoring him.

“Moving on,” Shadowheart groans. “We’re going to investigate the families of the spawn victims. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Oh, and tell Lae’zel she needs to move her weapons out of the living room before I throw them into the sewers myself.”

Gale shudders. “I’ll tell her, but certainly not those exact words.”

Astarion’s eyes follow you the whole time as you wait for Shadowheart at the door, hand holding a sheet of paper which he assumes to be the list of victim families. And the entire time, you refuse to even look in his direction.

It evokes something in him. He’s not sure what, but it does. Annoyance, he supposes.

Gale finally turns to him when you and Shadowheart shut the door closed behind you. “Now you and I can get groceries for you…as long as it’s only animals, of course.”

Another hour with the wizard might drain him of what remains of his life force (which is very little considering that he’s dead), and he thinks a few hours might just be the cause of his perishing.

There are too many bodies. Too much blood that reminds you of the evil that you believed was dealt with. Their families weep, and you can do nothing but stand to the side, watching as they claw at the Fist’s uniforms, begging to know what could be done. Begging to see their loved ones again.

You feel selfish, almost. Having finally seen your own former beloved, you only allow yourself to watch from afar, afraid of getting any closer.

So you’d escaped the town square, fleeing to the roofs where you could properly assess any potential victims’ families and determine if they were even worth approaching in the emotional wreck they were in. The list of bodies nearly crumples under the crushing weight of your own hands. The silence looming across the rooftop patio is far more relaxing than the chaos below.

Well, save for the company perched beside you.

“So what’s with your lyre?” Alfira blinks. “Where is it?”

“Sold it.”

“Why? That’s such a waste!” she frowns, rubbing at a smudge on her own instrument. “It was made of such fine wood too…I do hope you didn’t undersell that beauty.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I should’ve sold it to you at a higher price.”

“If not your lyre…” she tilts her head, scooching her stool closer to yours. “Then what are you playing nowadays?”

“I don’t play anything.”

Her eyes widen. “You don’t play anything? What does that mean?”

“I quit, Alfira,” you sigh, finally turning to look at her. “I’m not technically a bard anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Once you’re a bard, there’s no backing out of it. It’s in your very blood,” she explains, lifting her own lyre to you. “Go on, play something. I know you have it somewhere in you.”

Your face falls at her offer, but she remains firm, urging you to go on. It’s only when you realize she has no intentions of ignoring your words that you finally take the lyre into your own hands. It feels too foreign. It’s not your own instrument, but it’s a different kind of familiarity than that. While your fingers used to itch to sing their tales, you now feel nothing, just an empty husk of what once burst with inspiration.

Still, you try, even if just for show. Your finger tugs at one of the strings, letting it snap and vibrate its hum. You try another and another, but they’re all disjointed, barely managing to hold on to one another before your brows furrow, and you drop your hand. It just doesn’t feel right.

You hold it back to her. “I told you.”

“Well,” she looks down at her lyre. “I’m sure even the greatest bards have struggled with their music from time to time. It’s just a bump in the road.”

No, you want to tell her. It’s the end of the road, and there’s nothing you could possibly do to solve it, because you’ve already tried it all.

“Here, I started a new song,” she smiles hopefully. “Maybe it might spark your own musical talents. Care to listen?”

While a part of you is hesitant, the way she excitedly clutches onto the lyre makes you relent. “Sure.”

She begins to sing, and even if it’s better than it had been when you last saw her in the grove, it’s shaky. You suppose she must always be like this when producing a new song, at least until she grows accustomed to it. Still, it fills the air with a calm melody and drowns out the sounds coming from below on the streets, which you’re grateful for.

The breeze feels nice on your skin. You let your shoulders drop, closing your eyes as you drink in the notes produced by her lyre.

“I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop. Not anymore.”

The words echo in your head. It shouldn’t hurt you, really, you didn’t intend on giving it to him anyway, but a sick part of you wishes he could’ve at least asked, and you could’ve been the one to reject him. Not the other way around.

It feels like getting rejected for a confession you never made.

You blame yourself for eavesdropping.

“So? What do you think so far?”

You barely register that her song has ended, forcing you to focus back on the bustling city below. With a clear of your throat, you nod. “It’s good, it’s just…”

Her eyes seem to glow as she leans towards you, curious to hear your next words. Why she has so much faith in your advice is beyond you. You’d helped her with her last song, but it’d just been a stroke of luck that you managed to capture the emotions she wanted to convey through its notes. It certainly did not help that you hadn’t touched an instrument in months. “...Nevermind. I’m not sure what I was trying to say there.”

Her smile drops, and she holds her lute closer to her chest, nodding. “I see. It’s a shame.”

What she’s referring to, you’re not sure.

She digs through her pocket, managing to scrape out a crumpled sheet of paper which she puts on your lap. You do your best to make out the words messily scribbled on the sheet, which you determine to be the unfinished song. While you shoot her a wary look, she pushes the paper back to you when you attempt to offer it back.

“I have faith in you. More than anyone else, for a song like this,” she smiles. “You don’t have to help me finish the song like last time. Just absorb it. At least read the lyrics for me, will you?”

You want to say no, but you end up pocketing the sheet instead.

After you say your farewells, leaving her to continue humming to herself, you regroup with Shadowheart. Your own spirit falls when judging from her expression, she’s had even less success than you.

“We’re going around in circles,” Shadowheart sighs beside you. “None of the families know anything, and as much I’d love to stay an hour at each house to console them, at this rate, we’ll die of old age before finding these spawn…are you listening?”

You blink, snapping back into attention as you turn to her. “Did you say something?”

She raises a brow at you. “And what are you so distracted for?”

Mourning something that hasn’t happened, but you don’t tell her that. “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, but neither does she pry. You’ve always had a mutual understanding with her when it came to one another’s secrets—don’t push. And even when either of you want to, you stay true to your silent agreement. You’re grateful for it at times like these.

Suddenly, there’s a bump to the left of you, not enough to make you stumble, but enough to make you glance back. They’re small, and you assume they’re a halfling or dwarf, despite their shoulders seeming too narrow. However, you forget about the details when your eyes hone in on their bare feet, absent of any shoes, much less socks. Something is wrong. Very wrong. When you look back up, you barely catch the way their hand slips back into their cloak, and immediately, your own flies into your pocket, where you’re now missing your dagger.

Shit.

You break into a sprint, forced to ignore Shadowheart, who calls out for you from behind, as you try to chase the hooded figure who swerves through the crowd of people on the street. Despite the people who curse and hiss as you shove through them, you’re only barely managing to tail the small cloaked figure, and in no such world are you willing to lose that dagger under circumstances that are not your own.

It’s pathetic, you know, to hold on to such a small part of him for so long. You’re sure he’s thrown away all of your own belongings, so why hold onto the dagger he kept strapped to his chest for months, holding it near his heart? You reckon this may be a blessing brought upon the gods who pity you, and you ponder if they’re watching you now, laughing at your pathetic display of desperation.

Still, you refuse to let it go like this.

The figure turns an alley, and your feet pick up. It’s a dead end.

You screech to a halt, slipping out a smaller blade that glints in the light allowed to seep into the isolated corner, eyes narrowed. The figure stands with its back to the wall, and you gawk at the way their shoulders shake as if they’re laughing to themselves. “Give it back, thief.”

They don’t budge, only continuing to tremble, and eventually, you’ve had enough. You march toward them, yanking back their hood with your knife, readied to retaliate if they dare, but immediately, your face pales. At the same time, Shadowheart finally manages to catch up to you.

“Hells, this crowd is a disaster,” she hisses, dusting off her shoulders. Then she shoots you a frown, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the supposed thief. “Whose child is that?”

You realize she hadn’t been laughing but shaking from fear.

She’s tiny. Unnaturally frail for her age which you guess to be around 9 or 10, which you note before letting her go from the grasp you have on her cloak. And from up close, you see that her bottom lip has been gnawed raw, still red from the last time it bled. She’s grasping onto your dagger for dear life, looking up at you with wary wide eyes, and you find your face relaxing. You bend down on one knee so you’re not just staring down at her, sighing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, really.”

Her trembling eases a bit, but her grip around your dagger tightens. In her hands, it almost looks like a sword. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

Shadowheart steps to stand beside you. “Please tell me this child isn’t yours?”

“No, of course not!” you snap, and she snickers. You roll your eyes and turn back to the girl. “I won’t hurt you; I swear my life on it. But I need that dagger you’re holding.”

She hesitates, her eyes desperately searching for honesty in yours.

“It’s—important to me,” you mumble sheepishly. “Please.”

You watch her glance between you and the blade in her hands multiple times, then slowly reach it out to you. You offer her a smile, sheathing it beside your hip once more. You feel whole again. “Thank you. Now, I won’t tell your parents this time, but you really can’t go around stealing people’s things–”

“Berry!” she blurts.

You blink, and she picks at her own hands. “I live with Miss Cora.”

The puzzle pieces click in place.

“You’re the one Cora has to lull to sleep.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you regret them with how her cheeks puff and paint her face a light shade of pink.

“You’re one of the orphans, then, I presume,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “Any reason why you’re lurking in the city—without shoes, might I add—and robbing people of their belongings?”

“I wasn’t trying to steal,” she insists, then meets your eyes. “I didn’t know how else to talk to you alone.”

“Alone? With me? Why?”

“I know where Roger—I mean, Miss Cora’s husband went that night,” she looks down. “I didn’t know who else to tell. I wasn’t supposed to be out…but I needed fresh air. And…And I saw…”

You hold your breath. “Where did he go?”

“It was the Blushing Mermaid,” she splutters. “He went and never came back. I-I can’t tell Miss Cora…If I do, she’ll hate me and kick me out. I can’t leave, so please, don’t tell her.”

Shadowheart leans to your ear. “That’s not possible. He couldn’t have been there.”

No, you think. You’d been there. You’d been at the Blushing Mermaid that night, and while you weren’t exactly in the best state of mind, you surely couldn’t have missed a literal murder taking place. Regardless, you shake away your lingering doubts and take her shoulders.

“We won’t,” you assure her. “For now, I need you to go back to Miss Cora. It’s not safe in the city by yourself right now.”

She wipes at the tears threatening to spill from her eyes with her arm and nods firmly, readjusting her hood and cloak so that her entire body is covered once more. You place a hand on her head.

“Thanks for telling me, Berry. I’ll find out who did this to Roger, and you’ll be the first person to know,” You manage the best smile you can at the moment. “And please, next time, just tap my shoulder.”

Her lips purse, and she flees to the Highberry residence.

“Well,” Shadowheart finally uncrosses her arms. “At least we have a lead now. It was starting to feel hopeless—though I’m not sure if this is a lead at all.”

Regardless of your own doubts, time is running out. Every night you spend with no progress is another waste of nearly a dozen lives in the city. So you shove aside your skepticism and sigh. “It can’t hurt to try.”

“What do you mean he just left?” Lae’zel seems just about ready to stab her sword through Gale’s chest, and you can’t bring yourself to blame her.

“I’m telling you, he just vanished! Into the thin air, nearly,” Gale groans in exasperation, throwing up his arms. “We were returning from the forest after his hunt, and I didn’t even look away. One second he was there, and the next-”

“He’s a rogue, you foolish wizard,” the githyanki hisses, and you cross your arms beside her, offering Gale no sympathy. “We must go search for him, drag him back, and keep him pinned to a wall with a spear.”

At this, you balk. “Well, no, we’re not going to-”

“And you,” she spins around to you. “You must stop defending the spawn over your unreciprocated feelings. Your urges to make love may remain, but his does not.”

Your face flares, and you hear Gale nearly drop the book he’d been holding.

“I am not—”

“It’s painfully obvious to the rest of us. It’s been days since he joined us, and all of us must deal with your imploring eyes while he seems promptly set on ruining every conversation any of us have with one another,” she continues, and as such, in Lae’zel fashion, she does not hold back the sting of her words. “I am indebted to what you’ve done for me, and for that, I cannot stand aside and watch you reduce yourself to this lovesick mutt over a bloodsucking leech.”

Gale clears his throat. “Lae’zel, now I believe that’s more than enough to-”

“Seal that mouth of yours, wizard, before I rid of it for good.”

He does so immediately.

You stare at her, appalled at her words. Imploring eyes? Lovesick mutt? You don’t even want to mention the bloodsucking leech comment. All you can do is keep yourself from opening your mouth, in fear that something that sounds dangerously close to defending Astarion might escape against your will.

A smart choice, as Lae’zel sighs, her patience wearing thin.

“You are a warrior. One of the most formidable I’ve come across,” she scowls. “Do not disappoint me this way. You do not owe him anything. That kainyank is the one who nearly took your life.”

A part of your heart cracks. You ignore the stinging in your palms as your nails dig into them, unsure what you’re even supposed to say at this point, and you fumble over your own words dying to escape your throat. Because you do owe him something. Because if your suspicions are true, you do owe him for the night you encountered the spawn, and the night before that, when you came across Petras. Being indebted to him feels like another battle in itself, and you’re not sure if you want it to be true or not. You don’t have the heart to tell her that.

So instead, you snatch your dagger from where you’d last placed it down and march for the door.

“Tav, please, don’t leave like this,” Gale reaches for your arm, but you yank it away.

“I’m going to bring him back,” you say, but it’s more of a demand. A tone you rarely use toward your own companions, but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

Lae’zel hisses as you’re halfway out the door. “You are a fool to be unable to see that he does not care for you.”

He had saved you. A person who does not care about you does not bother to save you.

You clutch the dagger close to your heart, and you ignore how cold it feels in your hand.

By the time you’ve run through most places he could possibly be, you finally arrive at the Sharess’ Caress, panting as you stare up at the taunting aura of the building. You don’t know how many hours have passed since you left the house–-perhaps days, or even minutes, but every second feels like a million more than it should. You push through the door, barely managing to catch your breath, as you’re immediately greeted with the aroma of a thousand different perfumes.

The fumes make you scrunch your nose, and you’re quickly slammed into the last memory of entering this place. The woman at the front desk, the windows draped with curtains to prevent most if not all the light spilling into its halls, the music echoing from the more private rooms for personal viewing…

You hate it all.

“Ah, savior, you’re back!” a voice says, and you flinch at it. One of the drow twins, Nym, waves you toward her, but you don’t budge. “It’s been months since you last rejected my advances, hasn’t it? I suppose you couldn’t resist yourself and came back-”

“Where is he,” you spit, your voice wavering. You don’t mean to be rude to her, truly, but your patience is close to nothing, and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you have to take a rest and return to the house in shame. At the very least, you have to drag Astarion back with you.

She pauses, then motions upstairs. It seems she understands the urgency in your tone because she steps out of the way, urging you forward. So with a nod of acknowledgment, you march up the stairs towards one of the more luxurious private rooms.

Door after door, you’re greeted with an empty room. Only when you come to the final room do you hold your breath, fist nearly shaking from merely knowing he’s on the other side. Lae’zel’s words echo in your head like an insistent tadpole, unable to force it to leave or quiet down. You opt to overrule it with the sound of the door swinging open.

There’s a woman.

Though you manage to release your breath when you see that she’s fully clothed, the collar of her shirt is pulled back, revealing her neck for the spawn who has his fangs bared inches from her skin. She doesn’t seem to notice you despite the ruckus you made entering the room, too lost in the man in front of her, but he does. His attention flickers to you and stays there, not showing an ounce of surprise as if he expected you here.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he drinks and all you can do is stare in disgust, eyes wide but your legs unwilling to unplant themselves from the wooden floors. Your sandwich from earlier threatens to hurl the other way, and your nails dig into the skin of your palms, nearly breaking the skin. You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

He tears away from her neck, blood staining his lips as you remain planted in the ground. The woman gasps, and her hands fly up to her neck. Even now, he’s only staring at you.

“Thank you, dear customer,” she rasps gratefully, despite how pale she looks. He doesn’t even acknowledge her until he wants her out.

“You can leave now.”

She looks back and forth between you and him, surely noticing how he doesn’t seem remotely fazed at how you’re glaring daggers at him and nods, scrambling to leave.

The door shuts with a loud thud.

You watch him reach to wipe at his mouth, your voice hollow and cold. “Are you done?”

“Clearly, seeing as I made her leave.”

“We agreed that you wouldn’t drink from people.”

“We agreed I wouldn’t drink from people in the house,” he corrects, pacing toward the window where the moonlight had illuminated him as he drank from the woman’s neck. “I kept my word.”

He leans against the windowsill, and you take a step toward him, still keeping a hefty distance. “She’ll report you to the Duke. My word won’t be much help if he insists to throw you in a cell.”

“This is a house of pleasure, my dear. Nothing gets out of here if you have enough gold,” he laughs, throwing his head back. “How else do you think I’ve been getting my share of blood if I hadn’t gone around murdering the innocent?”

Your teeth grit together, eyes narrowed as you scan the state he’s in. Despite appearing nearly dead just hours earlier, his skin now seems to glow against the moon, the bags under his eyes having gone missing and leaving a wide grin on his face instead. If this was a few months ago, you’d admire him, but not now. You want to punch it off.

“You don’t look happy, darling,” he fakes a frown and makes his way closer to you. You swear your heart stops for a moment when he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “Is it that woman? Are you jealous?”

You slap his hand away.

“Gods, is this all a game to you?” you blurt in exasperation. “I’m trying to understand you, Astarion, I really am. And all you keep doing is–”

“There is nothing to understand. This is just who I am.”

“I’m not a fool. Will you, for once in your life, please drop this mask and just talk to me?”

“What in the hells makes you so sure I’m lying? I must have made quite the impression on you when we still considered ourselves allies.”

You try not to flinch at that.

“You were there that night,” you say, but it comes out like a question. “When I was attacked by the other spawn. And the night before that with that guy from the tavern. You killed him without even drinking his blood.”

At this, the tone of your conversation shifts, at least from his end. His eyes darken as you take a step back. “Who told you that?”

“Petras.”

He seems taken aback for a moment but quickly recovers. You wish you could do the same. And the laugh that escapes his throat sounds like he pities you. “My dear, I didn’t realize you were so naive.”

You blink.

“He’s deceived you, I’m afraid. Probably covering for his own arse to stay on your good side. What spawn would want to risk pissing off an adventurer capable of killing a vampire lord? In the time we were apart, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid you at all costs. You can see why, can’t you?” he gestures to the air between you. “I mean, look at us, darling. We’re no good around each other.”

It hurts more than you’d like to admit, but your stubborn streak forces you to keep going. “That night with the spawn-”

“I must say that I’m rather flattered that I was the last thing you saw at the hands of death,” he laughs, and it sends shivers down your spine. “But I’m afraid that too was a gift from death. I, myself, had no part in it.”

“But why were you there then?” you’re starting to sound desperate. You want to slap your hand over your mouth but something tells you that would be even more humiliating. “Why were you with the Duke in the morning?”

“I was captured by the Duke days before he brought me to you. He spent the time interrogating me, and in the end, I gave him nothing, as I will do with you. I only found out about your—predicament when he did, and he decided you’d fare better in gathering information I do not have.”

You would’ve preferred to die in battle than to feel the crushing feeling of your own chest. You want to curl up in a hole and never crawl out.

“Now, is that all?” he asks, drinking in your defeat like a trophy he wished he could place on the top shelf of a glass cabinet. “Any other accusations you have to throw at me?”

Lae’zel had been right. Shadowheart had been right. All of them had been right, except for you. This was far more than you could handle, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. The hope you held onto now dwindles into a small flame that can easily be blown out by a few selective words--those of which he has full authority over.

“Have you always been this cruel?” Tears threaten to well in your eyes, but you force them back, veiling them with all the strength left in your voice. Now, you just sound angrier. “You’ve never been a good man, but you weren’t a heartless one either.” You wonder if maybe that was a lie as well. The loving words, the soft touches, the gentle eyes. That perhaps the guise you’d thought you’d seen through was not a guise at all.

“Is that what it was then?” his face falls. “Did you stop the ritual to keep a feeble man by your side?”

Feeling is not weakness, you want to scream at him, but you know it'll do no good.

“Ascension would have changed you, and it’s not for the better. You know what Raphael said. I just did what I had to for the sake of your safety.”

“Power would have made me safe. From the world, from the sun, from people like you. Now I rot away in this destroyed city with nothing to feed on but stolen cattle and rats.”

“You’re not listening to me. You would’ve lost your soul, and become like Cazador–”

His composure cracks at that. “Don’t you dare speak of that devil.”

“Don’t give me reasons to.”

The air is thick enough to slice with your dagger. With squinted eyes, he scans your face before continuing slowly.

“Darling,” despite the term of endearment, it doesn’t sound endearing at all. “You are searching for sympathy from a man who does not have any left to give.”

“You did have sympathy,” you hiss. “With Yenna, with Shadowheart, with the owlbear, with Lae’zel, Karlach, and the rest of the damn city, you did. It wasn’t obvious, but you felt for them.”

“Perhaps once. For a fleeting moment. That moment is not now.”

There’s nothing that you can say to that, really. All you can do is stare at him, eyes wide and unable to choke out words, crying, screaming, anything. But now, the dagger you carry everywhere feels twice as heavy and twice as cold. You want to search his face for any signs of deception, but you’re too afraid of what you might find, so you force your eyes to the ground.

Silence hangs in the air like a chain tightening its hold around your lifeline.

“I was fine,” you whisper, face burning. “I was getting better. I was getting over you, and you came back.”

His hands limply fall to his sides. “You are the one who refuses to let me go.”

When you don’t respond, afraid your voice will crack and give out the last of the thin thread that holds you together, he steps toward you again, now a mere feet away. All you can see, and what you’re willing to see, is his chest as he breathes out his words. “Do you hate me?”

You have no idea, truly.

“You should.”

Lifting your head, you focus on his eyelashes rather than his eyes. Doing otherwise might provoke you to do something you’ll regret. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Hate me.”

The pause feels like another lifetime as your heart pounds rapidly, your palms feeling too clammy, and your throat too dry. He blinks, slowly.

“Yes. More than anyone."

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#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #laezel

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the-writer-arrived · 9 months

Text

Dan Heng NSFW Alphabet

Synopsis: let's take a peek on how your lover is in bed, shall we?

Character: dan heng.

Warnings: afab!reader; reader is part of the astral express but isn't the trailblazer; spoilers about dan heng's past and his companion mission.

A/N: in celebration for dan heng imbibitor lunae release (finally!!), i give you all this! may our dragon boyfie come home to all who wants him <3

(p.s. that mf made me lose the 50/50 💀 his light cone better come home 😭.)

(edit: IT WORKED HIS LIGHT CONE CAME ON THE 31 😭😭😭😭)

This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dan Heng's nickname in Belobog's fight club may be "Cold Dragon Young", but he's anything but cold to you especially after sex.

After your sexual lives began, Dan Heng made sure to always have a box of tissues, a towel and a bottle of water at hand's reach.

He prefers to do the deed in your room instead of his since, you know, it's the Express databank...

Therefore, those things are usually inside a drawer of your nightstand for easier access to the both of you.

Also cuddling is a must for him.

On days Dan Heng is feeling particularly clingy, he will wrap his arms AND tail around you, not minding the feeling of your sweaty and sticky bodies.

But don't worry, he will take you to the bathroom to clean you and him in the shower/bath, before returning to bed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If someone had asked him that before he got together with you, he wouldn't know what to answer.

Now, however, he'd answer his hands.

Curiously enough, you've always been fascinated by Dan Heng's hands.

You loved holding it, playing with his fingers, saying they were so soft, even softer than your own!

You also loved dragging him to the sleepovers in March's room, which you would paint your boyfriend's nails while March would do the Trailblazer's.

Now, about his favorite body part of yours, it's an easy answer: your neck.

It goes hand in hand with his kink (or rather, instinct) of marking you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums an embarrassing (to him) amount.

Although the Vidyadhara can't have offsprings, they still are a dragon species and, considering Dan Heng has a much closer conection to the water dragon he controls, his instincts are stronger than others of his kin.

Yes, this is just a roundabout way to say he has a breeding kink

It's usually thick and gooey, but when he's in heat, it becomes more watery.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you joined the Astral Express, you were sure Dan Heng disliked you.

Although he was never outright rude to you during the (very few) interactions you two had in the beggining, he would never be in the same room as you.

Himeko assured you that the young man was just shy, but even she was at a loss at that unusual behavior of his.

Dan Heng was avoiding you, yes, but it wasn't because he hated your guts or anything.

It was because your scent was driving him crazy.

The second he landed his eyes on you, your scent invaded his system and every single fiber of his being was being pulled to you.

But he couldn't, he shouldn't. There was too much danger in his life.

But by the Aeons... He had to do something, or else he might lose his mind.

So, when everyone in the train was asleep, Dan Heng would let his thoughts be consumed by you and guide his hand to his shaft...

He would rather go through molting rebirth again than admit he did such debauchery to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

My guy has been in the Shackling Prison ever since he was born and after being banished from the Luofu, he had to keep looking over his shoulder for a psycho who's out for his blood.

It's suffice to say that Dan Heng doesn't have any experience in relationships or sex.

Please have patience with him, he will fumble but he really wants to make you feel good :(

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I believe Dan Heng would prefer positions which he can see your face, be it directly or through a mirror's reflection.

What he must have, however, is access to your neck, his favorite body part of yours as mentioned on B.

So, if you do positions like cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, you can expect to have a restless (dragon) lover under you, squirming for wanting to have you closer in order to mark your pretty skin.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's definitely not one to be funny in bed... intentionally, that is.

Have you seen him throwing peace signs when the Silvermane Guards were pursuing the trio in Jarilo-VI?

Or him doing that when March took a photo of him next to the High Elder statue on that short animation?

Or even the things he says with the most poker face ever?

Anyway, what I mean to say is that Dan Heng is funny without trying to and that (unfortunately to him) sometimes happen in bed.

He will huff while you're giggling with yourself, before bringing you back to the right mood with a searing kiss.

What were you laughing at again? I don't know, maybe you should focus on those hypnotizing eyes darkened with lust staring down at you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As said on E, Dan Heng doesn't have much experience in relationships, therefore never really worried that much about pubic hair.

After joining the Express and having a safe place to be, he would groom himself and trim a bit just so it wasn't too much or too long.

Now that he's with you, he likes to keep his bush small and very well groomed, so it won't bother your nose when you suck him off.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

His draconic instincts aside, Dan Heng really, really, REALLY enjoys keeping you in his arms.

99% of the time you guys "make love" instead of fucking.

This is the first time in his life (as Dan Heng) that he feels utterly safe and conected with someone in so many different aspects.

When he says "I love you" during the deed, it comes from the deepest, most precious part of his heart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Honestly, he used to masturbate more before you two got together.

Again, he will never tell you that or, at least, not any time soon...

Now? It's rare for him to do it.

If he's in the mood, usually you are as well.

Sure, mutual masturbation is hot and all, but he'd much rather be inside your warm and inviting pussy.

The only time he'll jack off is when you are away from each other in trailblazing missions.

You know Dan Heng will try to hold off touching himself until he can go back to the Express, but he becomes soooo snappy and with a permanent frown on his face.

So, please, send him some photos of you or audios to break his resolve and make him relax a little until he returns to your side.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned in the very begginning of the list, I am 100% sure Dan Heng has a breeding kink, even if he can't procreate.

It's such a filthy sight, your hole fluttering after he pulls out, your mixed fluids leaking from it... A voice, primal, in the back of his mind telling him he should push it back inside or, even better, stuff you with his cum once again...

He can't get enough of it.

Also, you won't leave the bed without at least a dozen marks on your skin.

Bites, hickeys, marks of his fingers for gripping you too tightly... You'll see all of that and more on the morning after.

Your boyfriend is considerate enough to not leave them on places you can't hide with your clother or make up.

...Unless you made him jealous on purpose or has been teasing him throughout the day.

I guess scent kink is also a thing for him.

You almost make him delirious with lust when you're on your ovulating period.

Praise your guy to your heart's content, it works wonders when you want Dan Heng to let loose and fuck your brains.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

No matter how horny he is, Dan Heng will only touch you on the privacy of the bedroom.

Preferably yours since he doesn't really have a bed on the Data Bank Archieves.

Which is fine, considering he basically moved to your room.

The reason for that is the comfort and sense of security the private space gives him.

He doesn't have to be on alert for any kind of danger and can give you his undivided attention.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Call him corny, but it's when you show him you love him.

For most of his life, he has been followed by the shadow of Dan Feng and his deeds, both good and bad.

Even after Jing Yuan revoked his banishment from the Luofu, there are still many people, especially the Vidyadhara, who look at him with contempt.

Not to mention Blade hunting him through the universe to make him pay the price for his Dan Feng's sins.

So, when you cup his cheeks, stare at his eyes so softly and tell him you love him for who he is, not the shadow of his precious reincarnation...

His heart can't barely handle all the feelings that well up inside.

Dan Heng tries his best to show you how he feels by the breathtaking kisses and relentless pace of his hips snapping with yours, with chants of your name like a devotee does to their beloved deity.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you enjoy feeling a bit of pain in bed, I'm sorry to tell you, but Dan Heng refuses to do anything that may cause even the tiniest bit of pain to you...

Okay, it's not like he'll NEVER do it if you do enjoy it, but it'll take a lot of coaxing and reassurance.

His worst nightmare is to hurt you in any shape or form.

One thing that he will not do, no matter what, is share you.

So no threesome with Blade, sorry.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I see Dan Heng as the giver type, to be honest.

Not that he dislikes you sucking him off, far from it!

He just adores being nestled between your thighs, your drooling cunt on his mouth...

And if you convince him to eat you out on his Imbibitor Lunae form? It's a sure way to send you to heaven.

Grab his horns like your lifeline, it will make him moan into your folds and grind his cock onto the bed.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

On normal days, the pace is slow but deep.

No matter how much you ask, beg, demand for your lover to go faster, he won't and it drives you crazy (in a good way).

He's addicted to the way your core tightens around his member like a vice when you're so close to the edge.

Only then he will concede to your wishes, so you can cum together.

When he's in heat? Good luck walking tomorrow soldier 🫡

Each of his thrusts are so deep, so fast, so hard, but never deep enough, never fast enough, never hard enough to satisfy his desires.

I hope your bed is strong enough to survive the whole night.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't like it.

To Dan Heng, being physically intimate with you requires a process, a moment when the two of you tune out the world and just focus on each other.

Like I said on P, he likes to take his time with you, to really feel every single inch of you.

Sure, there are times when both of you are too horny to wait until you are in the comfort of your bedroom and there's too little time to spare.

Even so, quickies don't satisfy him completely.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Another thing that he doesn't enjoy it.

Dan Heng is a bit self conscious about the thought of other people hearing or, Aeons forbid, see you two doing it.

A spoiler for the V part, but this guy isn't exactly quiet during the fun 🤫

That's one of the reasons why doing it on a public or semi-public place is a no for him.

Using a vibrator though, especially on him, now that's something that may happen.

Again, it'll take some coaxing from you, but there's a bigger chance of him agreeing in the end.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Even when Dan Heng is in his human form, his stamina is above average.

When he's in heat? Again, good luck walking tomorrow.

If it was up to his draconic desires, he would go all night without a break.

Fortunately for you, he can hold on to his senses enough to remember that you would not survive if that happened.

You'd die happy, but he doesn't want to lose you.

On the morning after, you two are "gently" reminded by Himeko and Welt that there are other passengers on the Express and everyone would very much like to sleep in peace ✨

Poor March had to sleep over with the Trailblazer in their room, which was the furthest from yours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Our boy knows what a dildo and a vibrator are on theory, never tried them himself.

You'll have to be the one to introduce them in the relationship, if you want to.

I see Dan Heng as a switch, leaning to the sub side tbh.

With that in mind, I believe the toys are used more frequently on him than on you.

His favorite is those vibrators that can be controlled by a phone app, it's discreet and you can keep your partner on their toes.

His collection isn't big, maybe he owns two or three at max.

His first sex toy was one of those male masturbators, a gift from you.

Poor guy was so confused on what the hell that thing was (totally understandable, some of those look like a blender???).

Needless to say that his face turned red in no time after your explanation.

It doesn't come close to your hands and mouth, but it does a good job when you two can't be together for whatever reason.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If there is someone who loves to tease to hell and back, it's you.

You can't help it! Dan Heng looks sooooo adorable, trying his hardest to keep a straight face while a pink tint warms his cheeks.

Your teasing can go two ways: you may have him whimpering and begging for more under you OR he will retaliate and have you whimpering and begging for forgiveness under him.

In any case, you see it as a win in your book ✨

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

*Me, speaking into the mic.* Dan Heng is a whimperer and whinier.

*The crowd boos and I leave with my head down.*

She's right! *There is a yell coming from the back.*

*It's you, with Dan Heng dying from embarrasment next to you.*

Jokes aside, I do believe our Cold Dragon Young isn't loud per se, but a whimperer for sure.

He's embarrassed by that, so he does all he can to keep his sounds at bay.

When he's in Hot Dragon Young mode, he'll do a 180°.

Embarrassed? Shy? Quiet? Not Vidyadhara Dan Heng.

He growls, he moans, he curses, he straight up purrs the more he pounds and bullies your pussy with his cock(s).

Yes, he has two, it's a consensus between writers and artists.

Please gift everyone in the Astral Express ear buds, they will need them.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Despite having a breeding kink, of course Dan Heng is aware his species isn't fertile.

He knows there are no chances of him creating a new life by the conventional means of procreation.

And yet... Watching you interact with Hook and the other children of Belobog... Watching you hold Bailu in your arms...

He can't help but daydream of the 'what ifs' and 'would be'.

If he could, he wonders what would your child be like?

Would they look more like you? Or him?

Would they have similar personality to you or him? Perhaps a mix of both?

Would they inherit his draconic features?

...Would they have a long life span like him?

...Would they still be by his side, after your passing..?

...Will he even be able to handle to live a life without you once again...?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I am terrible at describing things, let alone dicks of fictional characters, so bear with me OTL

Okay, so, it's been established that Dan Heng has two cocks. Good? Good.

I like to think that they also change when he turns into his original appearance.

Human Dan Heng: only one dick, but still has a bit more length than average, on the thiner spectrum, slightly curved upward

Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng: two dicks, a growth in girth to leave you full but not stuffed, the veins are more proeminent.

How does one describe a pretty dick? Idk, but it's the first thing that comes to mind when you see it.

He's a pretty guy after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I know I've talking about his heat period like a broken record, but that's because watching aloof characters becoming crazy with lust makes me absolutely feral 🥴

But honestly? Among all the Honkai Star Rail men, I see Dan Heng with the lowest sex drive.

Not that he isn't interested in you physically, far from it! He adores your body and when you show it off to tease him, it's always very effective.

It's just that I see he has bigger emotional needs than sexual needs in the daily life.

Lover boy can go two, three days without having sex with you just fine.

It depends more on how is your sex drive.

If you ask him, he'll gladly go down on you whenever you wish.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dan Heng will only fall asleep after you do.

It comes from a desire to protect you from anything and everything.

He won't allow himself to completely rest until you are fully comfortable and in deep sleep.

Only then, he will kiss you on the forehead and bring you into his arms, giving you a sense of security you won't be able to find anywhere else in the whole universe.

#blue.writes: honkai star rail #blue.writes: dan heng #blue.writes: smut #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut #minors dni #not suitable for minors

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goldenhickeysandramen · 3 months

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Evolution of their narrative

I admit it. I also get confused as to what kind of couple Tae& Koo is supposed to be to their shippers.

When I first joined the fandom they were the “hidden couple”, and jikook was “fan service”, cause is what the masses demanded from BH/Bang PD.

It didn't take me long to realise that the "masses" in this fandom are actually the taek00kers (humaluvre is bigger than the majority of the most famous JK's focus accs) … So I've never really understood who the masses-asking-massively-for-"jikook"-content were 🤷‍♀️

Then, I read them that the big proof that taek00k was real was, precisely, that they couldn’t do all the things that jikook could do so well (you know, travel together only the two of them, stare at each other in rapt attention, sucking ears and necks, treat each other as a married couple, support each other to the fullest, holding hands whenever they have the opportunity…). The reason of them not doing all of these things was South Korea, since it is an homophobic country.

That’s why the company edited the content and didn't let them interact. It was all cuts and so on. Everything they did was private, and that's why there was no evidence, other than some witnesses of people with telescopic sight and facial recognition (maybe they were androids?)

I had more or less understood the narrative, until the LOVEGRAM era started, and that's when it all blew over!

Their insta accounts were no longer professional accounts (like twitter or weverse), but personal… and from then on, their selfies were some short of engagement pics or couple confirmation and their funny comments about boxing hooks were actually whipped messages of love.

Btw it seems South Korea was no longer homophobic at that time.

INSTAGRAM WAS THE LAW

When JK closed his Instagram account (forced by the company 😌) we were already in chapter 2. The lovegram didn't matter anymore…because Jungkook hanging out sometimes with Tae and wooga became the confirmation of what Instagram -in reality- failed to confirm. Never mind that their hanging out concentrated during some months when they both had more free time or that they actually just did what good friends do: having fun at the movies, bowling or skiing together with other friends… but hey, those tiny details don't matter in the great love story that is told.

And from there we move on to the part where the CHAOS really started, when the COMPANION SYSTEM news dropped

And guess what? Korea became homophobic again

Some said that they were forced to part ways (the company, the government, themselves because they wouldn't last a second without f?….). Gays dont enlist together they said.

Another line of argument was that Jimin had asked JK to enlist with him… I guess because he was going to be terrible at the military. LOL

But we all can sense that the most extended opinion was "I can't understand this plot twist for shit".

(Maybe the problem is they never understood their favs but that’s for another post)

And in the midst of CHAOS it was no longer possible to think of a new narrative...that's why the strategy became "attack". If they can't prove that their favourites are a couple, they'll go and debunk the rest.

At this point they don’t seem to care if ta3k00k is real or not… they simply choose not to surrender and ignore some facts. If they freaking ignored Jennie during a year, they will do the same with jikook being glued for 18 months.

So in the next months, we'll probably see part of fandom (solos and tkkers) attacking jikookers, and another part trying to ignore us. I fear the chaos will continue… pretty sure some toxic ones will watch the travel show just to diss jikook..

But we shouldn’t care too much because as we have seen, Jimin and Jungkook will never stop taking their decisions and behaving with authenticity

The boys have chosen their own path this year, not to please the majority of their fandom (jikookers are not the mass), but because they wanted to.

At the end of the day, they care about their fans, but we don’t own their lifes and they have shown us. And I applaud 👏 them

And yes, maybe their country and the careers they have chosen dont allow them to be fully free…. but they dont prevent them to stay one next to the other. They know how to choose the battles worth fighting for.

Don't you think it's beautiful and says a lot about the quality of love and respect that Jimin and Jungkook have for each other?

I think so

"standing in the fire next to you"

💜💛

#kookmin #jikook #jikook kookmin #mingguk #jimin and jungkook #jikook kookmin jinkook jiminshiii jk #minkook #mingukkie

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thedgeoftheuniverse · 4 months

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and i believe (because i can see) | post-outbreak!joel x f!reader

prologue — where we find ourselves

He told him how he thought that dog was going to rip her to shreds, and the only thing he could do was stand frozen in place because he’s not the man he used to be, no longer a ruthless killer who could have taken anyone and anything down in his path—he needed Tommy to understand that part. He needed Tommy to know that the only piece left of the man he once knew was the weak, aching flesh and bones sitting in front of him. He was no more capable of taking care of Ellie than he was of Sarah, but he was staring at him as though he were lying.

[ WARNINGS/TAGS ] loss of a child, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy!joel, angst, eventual smut (minors DNI!!), slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, joel miller desperately needs a good therapist and an even better hug, no use of y/n, no physical description of or named reader, shifting pov (see individual parts for warnings per chapter. please let me know if i miss anything. if any of these tags are triggering/upsetting/harmful to your wellbeing in any way, please do NOT interact.)

Winter came suddenly.

The summer had seemed to eternally endure, the heat from the sun leaving you drenched in sweat and with a constant sunburn across the bridge of your nose. The long days of trudging through woods and down back roads left your body hopelessly sapped of all energy and grotesquely deprived of proper hydration. A thin sheen of sweat seemed to permanently coat your body, leaving you feeling sticky and terribly uncomfortable; you had no intentions of concealing your discomfort, opting instead for—as your traveling companion charmingly described—incessant bitching. You've always found peace in the swaying of treetops and the warmth of the sun on your cheeks, but this was extreme, even by your standards. Nevertheless, the everlasting summer faded, as it always does, into an autumn that seemed to only last for a week or two, much to your disappointment.

Fall was stunning; a magnificent sea of yellows, oranges, and reds decorated canopies of trees, eventually falling and littering the ground and making a satisfying crunch underfoot. But then, as it always does, the fleeting autumn gave way to the bitterness of winter. A piece of you thought it came faster this year, as if the Earth was beginning to realize how far back it had fallen and desperately hoped that it could speed along the passage of time to correct some kind of miscalculation—a foolish notion. Nevertheless, you soaked up the fleeting weeks of fall with gratitude before you soured over winter. The harsh weather nestled into your bones, stiffening your joints and drying your skin—your knuckles remained almost permanently cracked and split during winter, regardless of gloves or warm evening fires. Perhaps there was a morbid beauty to the desolation of it all or a metaphor that would bring you some form of understanding for the misery you've endured.

For the moment, though, you were just freezing.

The small campfire you huddled in front of did little to warm your freezing body; the cold, having seeped well into your skin, stiffened your joints and tinted your fingernails with a purple-ish hue.

“Need to find you a new jacket.” Joel’s voice breaking through the silent night momentarily startled you. You looked at your coat with a huff and recalled the events from that same morning—your once warm, tastefully worn coat now decorated with a large tear down your left arm. Had it not been for the thick material shielding you from the maw of that Clicker, you would likely have already turned or been shot by him.

“Not before you get some new boots, old man.” You lazily motioned towards his shoes, raising an eyebrow as he began his nightly task of taping rubber to leather.

“Funny.” He clearly was not amused. “I’m serious. You're gonna freeze to death.”

“Well, if you can find one out here,” you gestured to the expansive forest surrounding you, “then be my guest.” He rolled his eyes at you, though with less disdain than he used to; if anything, it was affectionate. “You could share some of that whiskey if you don't want me so cold.” He passed the tarnished silver flask to you with another roll of his eyes, and you took a swig of the smokey, bitter liquid. It was far from high quality; in fact, it was hardly drinkable, but it succeeded in filling your gut with a fuzzy warmth that spread through your body after another sip.

You noticed Joel staring at Ellie with a fearful glint in his eyes as she stood atop a rather large boulder, staring at green lights illuminating the sky. He was about to say something; you could only guess it was going to be an attempt to get her back on the ground. “Give her another minute. Who knows when she'll see it again?" He paused, looking as though he still wanted to say something. You could practically feel the anxiety radiating from his body. You knew he would deny it until the bitter end, but he worried for Ellie as if she were his own child; however reluctantly their relationship started, he’s wrapped around her little fingers, even if he hadn’t caught onto the fact. A part of you wished he had developed similar affections for you, but Joel seemed to have come to only tolerate you. Sure, he was not half as surly or aggressive towards you as when you first met—you were shocked he did not kill you on the spot, considering your previous affiliations—and he would engage in lighthearted conversation, but you sensed an underlying disdain.

The longer you traveled with him, the more it made your heart ache.

This was not part of the plan.

A high-pitched whistle broke your thoughts, followed by his gruff command: “Come on down from there. You’re gonna break your neck.” Reluctantly and with a hefty sigh, Ellie made her way from the rock after sparing a final, unobscured glance at the sky.

The rest of the evening passed in mostly amusing conversation. You chose not to participate, though you intently listened. You saw how Joel tensed up when Ellie asked what they—no, he—would do after the cure; it was a question that, until less than a year ago, was wholly absurd and could never be answered. His answer was not surprising. You never expected Joel to be the kind of man with ambitions of settling down with someone, living in a big city, or pursuing anything more than a life of solitude. The sheep, however, made you giggle to yourself, and he shot you an unserious glare in response. You also saw the way Ellie’s face lit up as she talked about space and “Sally Fuckin’ Ride” and the moon and stars, and the sadness (or was that guilt?) in Joel’s eyes when the conversation inevitably shifted to the loss of Henry and Sam, and how Ellie seemed to somehow feel responsible. It wasn’t long after that that she decided it was time for bed.

“Do you wanna take first watch or second?”

Joel sighed. “I’ll do both.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll take second.” You piped up. Something in Joel’s eyes told you he would not be waking you up for the second watch, a debate you would have to settle at a later date.

“Get some sleep. Dream of..." he trailed off for a moment. “Sheep ranches on the moon.”

/ / /

Joel, in fact, did not wake you up for second watch. Not because Joel himself took both first and second, but because he fell asleep less than three hours into the night. He awoke from a fitful sleep with a start, distress seeping into his bones as he realized the sun had risen, he was asleep, and he did not know where Ellie or you were. He shot awake, his eyes glazed over with panic as he looked to you, still asleep on the ground, and then to Ellie, who was standing watch with the rifle that was much too big for her in her hands. An overwhelming feeling of guilt accompanied the anxiety in his gut—try as he might, he never seemed to stop failing.

“Still mumbling in your sleep.” She observed. “I woke up early. You guys were passed out, so I took second watch.”

Joel’s words were rushed, betraying his normally stoic demeanor. “You gotta wake me up if that happens.” He slowly stood up, the unavoidable ache in his lower back and knees seemingly worse that morning, perhaps from walking the last hundred or so miles, or maybe it was the rock that dug into his back during the night. “You can’t do things like this.” He said, gently nudging his companion’s still sleeping body on the ground with his foot; his poor back would not be tolerating him leaning down to wake you with a gentle grazing of his fingers or nudge of your shoulder. He chose to ignore the fact that he always felt afraid to touch you—not because he thought you were fragile, but rather because you made him feel as though he was. Your skin made his hands feel like he was electrified, on fire, or frozen in place, and sometimes it was all three. Sometimes, he wished he had left you back in Boston, and sometimes he wished he had found you twenty years ago; on more rare occasions, he wished he had met you thirty years ago—when he was still whole and he was still alive, Joel Miller and Sarah were still alive, and he would’ve seen you as you were meant to be. Those thoughts never lasted for long, but they made his stomach turn nonetheless.

"Uh, I can. I just did.” Joel had grown very familiar with the sarcastic smile she flashed at him.

“I’m responsible for you.” “She is too; don’t see her complaining.” His gaze flitted back down to you, barely awake and wholly confused by the situation at hand.

Joel took the rifle from Ellie, who was attempting to explain her precautions as she stood watch. “You wake me up next time.” “Yes, sir.” She responded.

That day started the same as each one for the last eight—was it closer to ten?—months had: a grueling trek across wooden terrain in what Joel hoped was the right direction, consistent sarcastic quips from Ellie, and your soothing presence at his side. It was a normal day, a normal fucking day, and he was mostly on course again, and everything was normal, normal, normal, and for the life of him, Joel could not fathom how he managed to find himself sitting in a bar drinking whiskey from a glass with his little brother. There were the horses and the dogs, and the all-consuming fear that Ellie was going to die and that you were going to die too; the knowledge that you would be after Ellie, and you would be lucky if the only thing these people did was kill you. Then he was hugging his brother for the first time in years, and everything felt fuzzy, and his stomach ached worse than his knees.

“Thanks for still giving a shit about me.” As if he ever stopped thinking about him. As if he hadn’t spent nearly a year in search of him. As if he were not the last thing of his old life that he had left, and he wouldn’t fight for that until the bitter end. And then he was asking about Tess (she’s good, she's fine), and it felt like a punch to the gut, and he was asking about Ellie (she’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-muck). (There's a payment.) He could no longer breathe, and then he asked about you, and he was at a loss for words. What could he possibly say to justify you? Sure, your previous affiliations are what initially convinced him to bring you along, but he could have easily gotten what little information you had without trekking across the country with you. He could have left you at Bill and Frank’s or in Kansas City or in a random spot in the woods early in the morning; he did not have to take you with him. There was nothing in it for him; there was nothing to gain except another mouth to feed and the knowledge that you could have killed him in his sleep at any time you pleased.

And then Joel was seeing red because, how dare he say that?

How dare Tommy expect him to be happy when he was being handed the very thing that destroyed his life? He was there. He watched his niece scream and cry and bleed out as he pleaded for help; he was there after he tried to follow her into the unknown, and he was the one to clean the wound on his temple. He was there for it all, and then he left. How dare he sit back with his comfortable life, his house, and his family after Joel had lost everything? How could he sit there and judge him after he compromised every moral he thought he held near and dear to keep him alive? Sarah’s blood had not been washed from his hands before he committed what little was left of him to keeping his little brother safe. How dare Tommy find the life that Joel lost?

He stormed out of the bar with that same goddamn feeling in his heart, and he thought he was going to die there for a moment—he had to have, at least for a second, because Sarah looked so real in that moment. The rest of that day passed in a blur. Joel found himself sitting in an old shed, the smell of wood and tools flooding his senses as he grew frustrated, fruitlessly trying to repair his tattered shoes.

“The guys said I might find you here.” Somehow, seeing his face again, Joel could not bring himself to continue to stoke his anger towards his little brother, however fixed the scowl on his face was. “Figured you could use these.” An awkward silence filled the room from his lack of response, but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to tell Tommy, his brother, that he almost hated him for finding a better life without him in it? “I shouldn’t have said what I said... I don’t even believe it. I know you’re happy for me; it's just—it’s complicated for you. I’m sorry.”

In that moment, Joel did what he had always done best and ignored it. “This ride to the university—is it a suicide mission?”

“No. It’s dangerous, but it’s nothin’ you can’t handle. Just prepare and do what you do.” He said it as if he were not a shadow of what he used to be. As if he did not freeze when Ellie was in danger, and he didn’t fall asleep on watch, and his hands were still strong, his back didn’t ache, and he wasn’t holding back a torrent of tears.

“You’ve had people go that way and come back?”

“All of ‘em.” He has said too much, “What is this?” And god, how was he supposed to hold this any longer? Where was he supposed to sit the last eight months down—or was it nine?—if not with him, that would not leave a path of destruction behind him. Tess, and Ellie, and the Fireflies, and Bill and Frank, and Henry and Sam, and Kansas City, and you? It was swallowing him whole, ripping him open from the inside; it was so heavy and he was so weak, more sorrow than man, and he could no longer bear the weight on his own.

“She’s immune.”

“What?”

“Ellie. She got infected, but she didn’t get sick.” He looked like he was ready to chase the girl down and put a bullet between her eyes. “Tommy. Tommy, I saw her get bit myself. That was months ago. Months. She’s immune.”

“From the beginning.” And he did. He told Tommy everything—about Tess; about Marlene and the Fireflies and how Tess made him swear to take her; about Kansas City and how Ellie saved his life; and Henry and Sam and how someone else had to save Ellie’s life because he could hardly hear out of his right ear and how desolate Henry’s eyes were after he shot his little brother (he overlooked how Ellie’s scream felt like a knife in his gut). He told him how he thought that dog was going to rip her to shreds, and the only thing he could do was stand frozen in place because he’s not the man he used to be, no longer a ruthless killer who could have taken anyone and anything down in his path—he needed Tommy to understand that part. He needed Tommy to know that the only piece left of the man he once knew was the weak, aching flesh and bones sitting in front of him. He was no more capable of taking care of Ellie than he was of Sarah, but he was staring at him as though he were lying.

“I was so afraid.” Joel could not hear himself speaking anymore. He knew the words were leaving his lips—he could see Tommy react to the syllables as the sound waves traveled through the air and to his ears, but he could not hear them. The ringing in his ears had never been so loud. “You think I can still handle things, but I’m not who I was.” A single crack in his voice. “I’m weak.” And god, he still looked at him like he wanted to argue against the points he so clearly laid out. “Lately, there are these moments when the fear comes up outta nowhere and my heart… feels like it's stopped…

“And I have dreams. Every night."

“What kinda dreams?"

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Another crack in his voice. Another reminder that he is incapable. “I just know that when I wake up, I’ve lost somethin’.” Tears began to fall down his cheeks. “I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done is fail them again and again and again.” Them?

“You want me to take her.”

“I’m just gonna get her killed. I know it. I have to leave her.”

“And what about her?” Joel’s heart truly stopped at the mention of you. “You still haven’t said a damn word about her or why she’s with you. Who is she?” He took in a shaky breath. He knew that Tommy would ask about you; he had sent a silent prayer that he would gloss over you. He could not bear to face the truth about you.

“What about her?” Denial was always his closest friend, but it seemed determined to betray him.

“Joel.” He wanted to seem indifferent; he wanted to lie, but the truth came spilling out of his mouth the same way hot tears streamed down his weathered cheeks. It did not ask for permission—it took whatever it wanted from Joel. The truth wanted everything from him this time; it begged to be free from its shackles. What was he supposed to say about you? How could he justify this? How could he explain that you had completely bewitched him without him having ever known until it was too late? How could he tell Tommy everything without admitting a truth he had tried so desperately to ignore?

“C’mon. From the beginning.”

[a/n: buckle up we're gonna be breaking hearts here]

MASTERLIST // AO3

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #ellie williams #joel miller x female reader #ellie the last of us #joel tlou

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mondaymelon · 1 year

Text

the first time you hold hands.♡

(liyue genshin impact x gn!reader)

written headcanon style! enjoy✩

(a/n) gift for @lume-nosity ♡ feel free to comment or reblog characters you want next!! (the xiao part took so much out of me i cant stop fucking squeeallinggg please hoyo give us soft xiao interactions next lantern rite pleaseee)

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

xiao ♡

he never was an affectionate person, but he tried to change that for you.

it was common knowledge that the adeptus was cold and typically uninviting to mortals, but to you, he was a completely different person.

he was never harsh to you, never yelled at you, not even when he was raging mad, because he didn't want to scare you. he never told you anything differing from kind words or praise, because he knew that doing so would make you happy.

and it did.

recently, xiao had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to come with you to liyue harbor to have a small meet up with you. it wasn't often that you got breaks from your job, but when you did, you would spend them at wangshu inn, excitedly conversing with the dark-haired man as the moon rose and shone overhead. This time, you had invited him to come to you instead, and that you would show him around modern liyue.

he never liked mortals, but you were different.

"xiao! there you are!" you gave the male a wave from where you stood, beaming. above, the sky was just beginning to get dark, the horizons tinted with hues of violet and crimson.

you could see him clearly from where you stood, the adeptus walking at his usual brisk pace. as he reached you, he paused and hesitated. "what do mortals call these things again?"

"dates?" you giggled, laughing at xiao's innocent and silly nature.

"that's it." the dark-haired male nodded, before glancing at you and then downward with his warm amber eyes. "then... can we hold hands?" he stares down at the ground, face and ears tinged red from embarrassment. xiao extends a hand toward you slowly, waiting for a response.

and you gladly take it, intertwining your fingers with his gloved ones and smiling. "of course."

the night is cold, but with the two of you interlocking hands, suddenly, everything seems all the bit more warm.

childe ♡

"comrade" had always been his title for you.

and the two of you had always been close. you had been childe's friend, advisor, and companion for longer than you could remember. the two of you had braved the harsh winters shneznaya, and when the male had received orders to head to liyue for some unsettled matters, you were more than willing to pack everything and leave with him.

after all, without childe, nothing could be the same.

you watched silently at the interaction between the northland bank receptionist and the familiar ginger, before making a quick motion to childe to mention that you were heading out. it was just too stuffy inside, and you needed some air. it had been a busy past few weeks, and the times where you did have rare solace, you decided you maximize the most of.

pushing open the heavy door, the cold night breeze greeted you. it was chilly, but it did help clear your head. the moon is full tonight, you note to yourself, staring up from where you're leaning on the side railings and smiling.

then there's the sound of footsteps behind you as low and behold, tartaglia himself comes out to check up on you.

"hey, comrade. what are you doing all alone out here?" his voice is nonchalant, but you could decipher the worried undertone in his words.

"i needed to clear my head." you glance back at him, before gesturing to the empty space beside you with a grin. "the view is great here, childe. come take a look."

and he does, stepping over to your side gently with the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. he follows your gaze quietly, up at the round, shining moon and glittering stars that light up the night sky. then he turns to look at you, and his gaze softens.

then warmth shoots through you as he grasps your hand, fingers brushing yours before he clasps them tightly.

"it's okay if i do this, right, love?"

kazuha ♡

it was in his notebook that you saw his true feelings, displayed for you to see, and you knew how much it meant for him.

you hadn't meant to stumble across journal - really. it was by complete chance that kazuha had decided to go for a walk and you hadn't realized, and so had gone into his room to speak to him only to find him gone.

thinking that he might be holed up somewhere in the space, busy writing something, you searched high and low and only found a leather bound journal with a red maple leaf on the cover that had clearly been stitched on. opening it, you were astonished to find pages on pages of endless haikus, poems, all sorts of rhymes and tales, all written in kazuha's graceful, flowy handwriting.

a smile upon the breeze, cruelties done out of fun. that out of so many people of these my lover is none.

the rising sun brings forth new morn still, the memory fades yet, for even though your face was forlorn, your smile i shall never forget.

for as long as we play this game, i wish our paths will never part. would you say you felt the same? if i told you what lied in my heart?

the poems and easing verses run ceaselessly from page to page, and you can only feel your eyes widen and face burn as you keep reading, albeit a bit guilty for going through his personal things like this. but as you turn the page to read the last poem, you can hear footsteps resounding from somewhere down the hall.

someone's coming.

immediately, you hastily scramble to place the journal back where it was and then dive on top of kazuha's bed, hoping that no one would spot you underneath the covers. the steps stop at the door, and you can hear the hinges squeal quietly as the door gets pushed open.

"hello?" kazuha's voice is confused and quiet, and you already know that he's suspiciously scanning the room. heart racing, you hear him walk closer to the bed, pausing before-

"what-" the male threw back the covers, and you can glimpse his startled expression from where you're pressed flat against his mattress. "what are you doing here...?"

"uhm... surprise?" you sit up awkwardly, scooting off the bed and getting onto your feat nervously. "a-anyway- don't think about this too hard- let's just..." you clasped kazuha's hand in yours, smiling frantically. fingers locked together, you tugged kazuha to and out the door. "let's just forget about it, okay?"

poor kazuha's so embarrassed, he can't even say a thing except mutter a quiet:

"o-okay."

ganyu ♡

working overtime was something ganyu was accustomed to. however, she was still unfamiliar with many concepts, namely you, and your seemingly endless affection.

you were a peculiar person, in ganyu's eyes. you always, no matter how late she got off work, waited for the adeptibeast patiently, usually handing her a gift or drink of some sort before walking her back to her house.

the evenings the two of you spend together at what ganyu considers the best moments of her days.

The warm evening glow reflecting off of your face, the lanterns lining the streets, the hustling murmur of excited in the background only convinced ganyu that she cared for you more than she would ever let on.

"ah..." ganyu turns to you, and you blink at her questioningly in return. "speaking of which, was there anything you wanted?"

"huh...?"

"well, you're always waiting for me after work... and bringing me all sorts of things too... so i wanted to pay you back for all of the effort." ganyu glances away, deciding to look anywhere but you, glancing at the food stalls, buildings, and the stone path the two of you are walking on. however, her efforts were fruitless, as you were able to see a clear view of her flushed face.

"aw, that's so sweet of you!" grinning, you let out a little giggle at her mannerisms. "but i didn't give you those hoping for something in return. its because i care about you!"

i care about you.

those words rang in the blue-haired girls ears as her warm eyes widened. "then..."

she walks closer to you, tugging at your sleeve with red tinged cheeks. as you turn to look at her questioningly, she takes your hand in hers, intertwining her slender fingers with you.

"can i do this?"

shenhe ♡

she had never really understood humans, nor wanted to, until she met you.

no one ever called shenhe a human. it was only ever adepti this and adepti that. maybe it was her lack of present emotions, or maybe it was just her cold demeanor, but her words fell upon deaf ears whenever she tried to explain.

"eh? you seem pretty human to me, shenhe. it's pretty hard to get it wrong, honestly." you glanced up at the white-haired girl curiously. the two of you were seated at liuli pavilion, upon your request to share lunch together.

"hard... to mistake me?" shenhe smiled airily, an expression that was seen by few. "just as i thought. you're different than everyone else. in a good way."

"...th-thanks...?"

shenhe merely let an relatively amused expression cross her face. "let me ask you something. to you, what makes a human human?"

you thought about her question for a long pause before answering. "i'd like to say... emotions. humans are egotistic and greedy, i'll admit to that, as i'm guilty of it myself, but humans also are thoughtful. they're kind, caring, genuine and understanding. that's what makes communities so powerful too. it's because everyone as the mutual trust and belief in each other that they can do great things." you grinned at the girl. "you have emotions too, they just don't get shown as often as the emotions of others. but that doesn't mean you don't have them."

the white-haired woman stayed silent for the count of three, her multi-colored eyes sparkling as she stared at you with a level of affection you didn't know was possible.

a light blush began creeping across her face as well, although she didn't seem to notice her red cheeks and ears. instead, she just beamed at you.

"caring, you say? then, tell me, is this something a caring human would do?" with that, she reached down at took your hand with hers as a faint smile began to form on shenhe's face. her slender hands were cold to the touch, a pleasant feeling in the warm liyue heat as she intertwined her hands with yours.

"yes, it is."

"good."

prev masterlist ✩ next

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merrinla · 3 months

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Halsin and Minthara weren't always mutually exclusive

Even though you can recruit both of them, in the game it looks like a funny bug. I guess this is what's left of the original idea. It was previously planned not only letting you have them at the same time, but also that they would interact in the party like other companions.

In the audio files, you can find lines of their reactions to each other's deaths. I don't know if these are triggered or not. They are both so bugged that sometimes I can hardly tell which is the cut content and which is the bug.

It's kind of funny that Halsin would be so sad.

I recently completed Halsin's quest with Mintara in my party. In the scene by the lake, when Halsin entered the portal, Minthara said "He made it. Now let's just hope he survives what's on the other side"

Actually this is exactly the same line as Tav's.

Halsin also share many lines with Tav and other origins. Most of them are unused. But in this case the line is not only voiced by Emma Gregory (Minthara's VA), it's triggered.

There is another interesting line. In Moonrise Towers, when Ketheric punishes Mintara for a failure in the grove and sends her to the dungeon, the player can choose not to interfere and leave the location without helping her. In this case one of the characters in your party will remind you that she can be saved as a potential companion. I was wondering if Halsin would say anything. And he did. "Minthara may prove useful to us, should we wish to save her…"

This isn't cut content. This isn't new content added with patches. It's in the game since the release. And this line works. Moreover, this is his personal line.

If they implement the dialogue with an ultimatum it will be nonsense. I mean, first he suggests to save her from the Absolute as a useful ally, and then in the camp he will say that it's the right choice to kick her back under the Absolute control. It's even hard to blame the character for such contradiction. Rather, it's just a stupid limit set by the script.

Next. In Act 3 if you make one of them to go up on the clown stage, the other one will approve.

There is also an unused flag for Act 3 in the game files with the description "Orin pretended to kill Halsin during the Minthara abduction campnight." Which means in Act 3 they were both in the party.

You can see what the abduction of Mintara looks like in this video. Only instead of Halsin, Jaheira is mentioned here.

youtube

Maybe there are other confirmations that I do not know about, that they were not mutually exclusive before. But that's enough for me.

They were both not originally planned as companions. Their roles were expanded much later. Most likely, Larian didn't have time to polish their content, so scissors were used. This is why their content seems so unfinished compared to others. Except for Wyll, probably. That's why they are so buggy.

I suppose the reason they are both mutually exclusive is because it is the easiest solution when you have a deadline on the horizon. Just easiest as "it's fine for a companion to just hang out at the camp". Otherwise, you need dialogs, animations, scripts, etc. And you also need to make sure that it will work with everything else. This is time and resources. But this doesn't mean that it's impossible to fix anything later.

I faintly hope that the defenetive edition will have the option to recruit them both.

And I really hope that in the future Larian will look at the games of their colleagues from BioWare (who made the original BG). I mean games from better times than now. The companions below will show you how much they "loved" each other. Not all of them became friends in the end. But nevertheless, we saved the world. Together.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #bg3 datamine #halsin #minthara

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peachdues · 6 months

Text

Giving Kyojuro his own Christmas special, but you might see some familiar faces…

Feeling slightly awkward, you couldn’t help but glance around the room, eyes jumping from face to face in search of someone familiar. You landed on a mop of white hair lounging on the sectional across from you. Relief pooled in your stomach and you made to approach the man you recognized as one of Kyojuro’s closest friends, but you drew short. Just as you’d been ready to tap him on the shoulder, another woman emerged from the crowded kitchen opposite of you, eyes scanning the faces packed together in the crowded living room just as yours had, before they settled on the very same person you’d marked as the only semi-friendly face upon this isle of strangers on which you were now marooned.

And even if you’d reached him first, you were sure that any attention the man — Sanemi, that was his name — would have spared you would have dried up the moment he locked eyes with this new face, judging by the way he instantly straightened as she ducked and weaved gracefully through a the throng of tightly packed bodies.

Her smile was infectious as she reached the couch where Sanemi sat. Though you could only see the back of his head, the white-haired senior’s body language screamed that this girl — whomever she was — may as well have been the only person on earth at that moment. For even as she settled on the couch beside him and handed him a small can of soda she must have swiped from the kitchen, Sanemi’s attention remained wholly and utterly fixed on her.

Ever the voyeur, you felt a twinge of jealousy at the way the pair chatted for a moment before the girl leaned toward Sanemi, all soft, affectionate smiles, and tugged him in for a kiss. That jealousy bloomed into full, green envy at the way Sanemi instantly brought one hand to tenderly cup the side of her face, and did not move it even when their lips broke apart, his fingers gently caressing her cheek as she began to speak again.

You turned away, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at just how long you’d watched the couple’s interactions. But even still, jealousy continued to gnaw away at your chest.

How long had it been since someone looked at you like that?

Had you ever even known such adoration — as unabashed and intense, as what you’d just witnessed?

You knew the answer and for that reason and that reason alone, you needed a drink — and fast.

——-

Kyojuro introduced you once more to Sanemi as well as the girl you’d observed him with earlier, whom he’d identified as Sanemi’s girlfriend. Her greeting was kind, and her smile had a striking warmth, though for the life of you, you could not place why it felt familiar.

It only struck you later that you did not know Sanemi’s girlfriend at all, even if you’d seen the chronicles of her lifetime friendship with Kyojuro — and the man whose lap she now sat upon in the living room — from the series of pictures he’d had plastered all over the refrigerator door at his apartment.

——

“Your friends are nice,” you hummed, fingers idly tracing circles over the mass of your flame-haired companions chest. “How long have she and Sanemi been together?”

Kyojuro’s own fingers twiddled idly with your hair. “Officially? Just over a year,” he dropped his hand to caress up and down your bare spine. “But they go way back. Since we were kids.”

“Childhood lovers?” You grinned. “That’s cute. Especially for someone as standoffish as Sanemi.”

Kyojuro’s fingers paused their exploration of your skin. “Not when it comes to her,” he said quietly after a moment. “Sanemi loves her more than the earth loves the sun.”

“And they’ve both been through a lot,” the sudden emotion which colored Kyojuro’s voice made you turn your face up to his, and you propped your chin up against his upper abdomen to study him. “They deserve the quiet life, now.”

dw I’m leaving them alone

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro rengoku #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #sanemi shinazugawa

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afro-hispwriter · 1 year

Text

The Outsider and The Chief’s Daughter(Bound)pt. 1

Neteyam(20) x Metkaynia!reader(20)

Summary- Jake and Neytiri know this love story all too well. The outsider falls in love with the Chief's daughter, who's promised to someone else.

Song- Bound by Ponderosa Twins Plus One

Flying away from his homeland was not how Neteyam thought this year was going to go. But when the RDA managed to capture his siblings and Spider. Everyone knew they were getting better and that was dangerous to all the na’vi.

He hung back from his family. Hadn’t spoken to any of them in the time they flew. He was angry and confused, but mostly just defeated.

The Eastern seas of Pandora were beautiful. The creatures below are mesmerizing.

“Dad, what clan did you say we were going to?” Neteyam calls to his father over the winds

“The Metkayina, they’re just a few miles away!” Neteyam nodded and sat back on the saddle, going back to a frown.

“Oh come on bro, stop sulking and look on the bright side. Maybe and hopefully there will be some hot water babes.” Lo’ak laughs and Neteyam rolls his eyes.

They flew over the reefs. They started calling out for the clan not to attack. A horn sounded loudly announcing their arrival. They landed on the beach and the people began crowding them. They got off their ikrans, weary of the people.

“On me,” Jake says and starts walking towards them, arms raised. They were surrounded instantly, some curious others scared. As they were now crowded, Neteyam took in everyone. Watching for anything unusual. Three na’vi men walked through the crowd, tattoos on their bodies. They started to circle closely. Neteyam and Lo’ak signed ‘I see you’ but received nothing back. “Easy just be cool.”

“What is that?” One says and smacks the other. “Is that supposed to be a tail?” They all laugh. Netayk and Lo’ak side-eye each other until their attention was brought to the water. Two women rode up on their companions. They looked at each other before diving into the water. When they stepped out Neteyams heart froze. You were both absolutely beautiful but he could only see you, who he assumed was the older.

He stared at you as you got closer, jaw almost slacking.

Lo’ak was entranced by the youngest but looked away. Trying to hide a blush.

“How are they supposed to swim?” One of the guys behind them said and pointed.

“Reykxu.” You scold and smack his hand, and he growled at you. You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Aounung be better, Roxto you are better than bullying.” Neteyam could hear the authority in your voice which made him wonder what your role is. Tsireya shakes her head and turns to the boys.

“Hey.” He says and she blushes and giggles. You elbow her playfully. You look to the man next to the other and he smiles at you, then signs ‘I see you’, with a sly smirk. You smile and sign back. He bit his lip and looked you up and down making you blush and look away.

Reykxu watched the interaction, suddenly his playful manner turned into a glare. Neteyam looked back at the man behind you and saw the glare. He stood up straight and pushed his shoulders back. Already knowing he would have an issue with him. Reykxu did the same and you looked between them. You patted Reykxu’s chest and shook your head.

Three large skim wigs flew above you making some crouch down. Your father, Tonowari landed in the water and hopped off his skimwig.

You knew who the family was, well more who Jake Sully and Neytiri were. Everyone knew their story. Tonowari and Jake signed to each other. The family followed Jake's actions. Slowly the people started making a path as your mother Ronal walked through. They all signed to her but she didn’t respond, just stared at him.

“Why do you come to us, Jake Sully?”

“We seek uturu.”

“Uturu!?”

“We are reef people, you are forest people. Your skills will be nothing here.”

“We will learn your ways.”

Your mother started to circle the Omaticayas and you stared at the oldest son of Jake. Admired him. You took his body in. He is tall, like his father. You would even dare say taller. He was strong. His large arms and shoulders prove that. As well as his very toned stomach that you could not take your eyes off. He chuckled lowly and your eyes shot up.

“What is your name?” You whisper.

“Neteyam. Yours?”

“Y/n.” Neteyam smiled.

“Ahh Princess of the Metkayina.” He nodded his head like a playful bow making you giggle.

“Their arms are thin,” Ronal says and grabs the youngest Sullys arms. Neteyams head shoots over and goes into protective mode. The little girl ripped her hand from Ronals and hid behind her parents. She grabbed the other woman's tail who was around your age.

“Ow.” She says and grabs her tail back.

“You will be slow in the water.” She then grabs her hands and holds them up.

“These children, are not even true Na’vi.” The people gasped and started talking amongst themselves. She walks to Neteyams brother and grabs his hand. “They have demon blood!” The brother looked down like he was ashamed. The people snared and hissed. You looked up at Neteyam and saw the death glare he was giving your mother. You grabbed his wrist and stared at his hands.

3 fingers

You push your palm against his and let yourself stare at the size difference. His face softened but his body remained tense. You tried to give him a reassuring smile but Reykxu pulled you away. Neteyam glared at him as he watched him speak to you almost harshly. You shook your head at Neteyam and pointed your head back to the scene.

Your mothers snarled at each other. You pushed away from Reykxu and walked to your parents.

“Mother, Father let them stay they are exhausted and they have asked for uturu.” Your father nodded then placed a hand on Jake's shoulder.

“Toruk Makto is a great war leader, all na’vi people know his story but we Metkayina are not at war.” He turns to Jake. “We cannot let you bring your war here.”

“Im done with war okay, I just want to keep my family safe.” He says now with his youngest in his arms.

Your parents shared a look, communicating with each other silently.

“Uturu has been asked.” Says Neytiri. They came to a decision silently. Tonowari took in a deep breath and turned to the people.

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters.”

You saw Reytiti out the corner of your eye peering beside Neteyam and looking him up and down. She was almost 3 years your younger but never ceased to try and make your life more difficult. You huffed and dug your toes into the sand.

“So they will he like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

“Okay what do we say?” Jake asks his family and the little one smiles breathlessly.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” The eldest daughter rolls her eyes.

“My daughter, Y/n, future Tshaik of the Metkayina.” Tonowari put a hand on your upper back. “And daughter Tsireya and son Aounung will show your children what to do.”

“Father why do I-?” Aounung started but Tonowari stops him.

“Its is decided.”

“Come I will show you the village.” Tsireya steps forward with a big smile.

You walked in front of the Sully family along with your sister. You were whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

“It seems you like the Sully boy.” You tease and she blushes.

“As do you.” You look at her in disbelief.

“I do not, I like Reykxu.” Tsireya lets out a loud sarcastic laugh.

“Oh please, mere hours ago you were saying how much you despise him.” She whispered but very loudly.

“Keep your voice down, he is who Ewya has intended me be with for the rest of my life.”

“Ewya is known to be wrong or change her mine.”

You swallow harshly and look back at the tall warrior. Your eyes met and he looked away.

You introduced the family to their new mauri. You set some of their stuff down and stood up.

“Please let us know if you need anything, your training starts tomorrow.” You tell them and your eyes land on Neteyam. You nod to him and he nods back, eyes following you figure out the door.

A/n- part 2 will be soon, let me know if you want to be tagged:)

#neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: thursday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.4k

summary: you and carmy finally find some time to catch up and carmy begins to realize that you're more similar than he thinks.

a/n: thank you to all who are reading, reblogging, and commenting omg. i'm so grateful that someone wanted to read this story. i wrote it in a week because i couldn't get these two out of my head. they were begging to be put on the page. i also have a companion playlist that i'll release when the story is done because i don't want to spoil anything! comment below if you'd like to be added to this story's taglist. i did presumptuously add a few of you i've interacted with, so please let me know if you'd also like to be taken off of it.

read: part two | masterlist

Thursday

You’re grateful that by day three, you’d been able to smooth over some of the tension between you and Carmy. You even looked forward to catching up with him, if the two of you can swing it. Instead of going home early, you had jumped on the line this evening. Ebra was out for the night and Marcus had asked to fly solo on prep so that you could give him some feedback before lunch service tomorrow morning.

It was an easy decision, to fill in and jump on the line. After all, you had checked your bag on the plane so that you could bring your knife roll with you, just in case. There was something about this kitchen – the energy and the people – that you wanted to stick around for. And it didn’t hurt that you got to spend a little extra time with Carmy. When he was in his element, expediting and leading this kitchen… he was… breathtaking.

“Damn, nice knife, Jeff” Tina comments, checking out the santoku you’re running through some parsley. She can hear the crisp, clean cuts you're making, which is what caught her attention in the first place.

“Jeff?” you question, shooting her a look.

“Long story, but trust me. It’s a term of endearment,” Sydney interjects, from her side of the prep station.

You chuckle, “She’s a beauty alright. My first fully Japanese knife. Though the steel is a bitch to take care of. That’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Tina questions further.

“Well, it’s just a kind of metal alloy that’s super prone to-,” you start, completing your sentence at the same time as Sydney chimes in.

“Rusting,” you both say in unison, sharing a look.

“Huh,” Tina sounds, suddenly losing interest. “I don’t get it. It’s more work to take care of? Our shit’s part-plastic and does the job just fine.”

“Oh but she’s so smooth,” you playfully swoon, referring to how beautifully the knife performs for you.

“It’s all about the performance, T,” Sydney adds.

Tina hums in response, still unconvinced by you and Sydney’s admiration for the fancy tools.

“So you and Carmy. How’d you meet Jeff?” Tina inquires further geturing her knife towards Carmy’s expediting station, and eliciting another laugh from you and Sydney.

“Uhhhh… we both worked at the same restaurant in New York. I came in to stage and the competitive jerk tried to smoke me. Thought he could show me it was his territory.”

“Like a little bitch,” Tina teases, the shade evident in her voice.

“And you kicked his ass obviously,” Sydney suggests, hopefully.

“Mhm,” Tina adds in agreement.

“Oh absolutely,” you answer, deviously. “I walked out with a job that night. Carmy and I are the classic kitchen staff case of… enemies turned good friends.”

You look up from your station, noticing an exchanged look between Sydney and Tina.

It’s the kind of look that says, Just friends, huh?

“Alright, alright. Enough with the girl talk, gossip girls. News flash: no one gives a shit about fuckin’ Tom Colicchio and Padma Whatserface over here,” Richie interrupts, referring to the you and Carmy, as he passes by with a few empty storage containers on the way to the dishwashing station.

“Asshole / Fuck off, Richie,” Sydney and Tina shout back at the same time.

“Hey! Listen up, everyone! Fire two spaghettis, two short ribs, one chicken,” Carmy calls out to the kitchen. You listen attentively, hearing the chorus of the entire kitchen repeat the order back to him, punctuating the order with a ‘heard.’

You smile to yourself, as you enjoy the feeling of falling into such a familiar rhythm.

You’ve missed working in the kitchen, and you’ve missed working in the kitchen with Carmy. This was so different than any of the bullshit you’ve been through together – even when he is arguing or yelling at someone. It’s not some sterile environment that looks more like a science lab or an operation room than it does a kitchen.

No, this place has soul.

Between the crass kitchen banter, the less than flattering nicknames, and its wild cast of characters, it’s only day three and you feel right at home. Dinner service flies by and you’re eager to check in with Marcus by the end of the shift. Before taking your apron off, you head over to his corner of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s everything going, chef?” you ask, curiously.

“Good, chef,” he answers proudly. “I got the brioche covered and ready to rise overnight and I prepped the cake donuts so we’re ready to roll tomorrow morning. I went with a blueberry cake donut this time around.”

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to try it, chef,” you reply. “Need anything from me before I head out for the night?”

“Oh no, uh, I’m almost done here,” Marcus answers, inspiring confidence in his ability. “Just workin’ on a curd for the filling, chef. Just like you taught me.”

“Alright,” you chuckle, tickled by how excited he is. “Have a good night, chef.” You pause, wondering if your words will be totally lost on him. “And make sure you get some rest tonight, okay?”

He responds with a nod, as you leave his station.

You make your way to the locker area, hanging your apron up, and slipping off your kitchen sneakers, before taking a seat on the bench. It looks like most of the kitchen staff got a head start on you and have already left, or are out of their kitchen clothes and ready to head home. There’s a strange feeling in your heart. You haven’t felt this kind of… community… in a professional kitchen in a long time and you try your best to name what it is you’ve felt was missing.

“Hey,” you hear a voice say, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hey,” you say to Carmy.

He removes his apron, folding it over his forearm. It sits further down his arm, right near his tattooed hand, you notice, as he leans his side against the lockers.

“Thanks for jumpin’ in… you know… on the line tonight,” he starts his gaze practically piercing through your soul.

“Yeah, it’s uh, no problem,” you reply, placing your knife roll and kitchen shoes back into your locker. “I had fun.”

“You uh, you still want to go for that drink?” he asks, shyly.

You smile.

“Yeah.”

“It’s fucked up,” Carmy shakes his head in disbelief.

“Oh please. What?” you groan, shooting him a look.

“You’ve been in my city for… what three days now and you already have a hookup at one of the hardest to get into bars here,” Carmy replies, eliciting a laugh from you.

“Oh my god,” you sigh with a playful eye roll. “I’m a New Yorker, asshole. You know that’s how we do it.”

He shakes his head again, before locking eyes with you, “You were always better at it than me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you, Carmen Berzatto, finally admitting that I’m better at something than you? Can you say it again, and I’m just going to-.” you tease, playfully, pulling out your phone as if you’re going to film him saying it.

“Oh shut up…” he shoots back, gently pushing your phone away from his face.

“I mean, you could always make friends with anyone. The bodega guy downstairs. The fuckin’ bodega cat. Our favorite butcher? ‘S why we always got the good cuts of meat when we cooked together on our days off.”

“Which is exactly why I do it,” you point out.

You had always been so magnetic to him. It’s something that he’s always admired about you – something that always reminded him of Mikey.

“No, I-, I used to be a regular at this bar when I was working at Gramercy Tavern – actually, I think it closed right before you came to New York. Anyways, found out my favorite bartender moved to Chicago and I sent him a message letting him know I’d be in town. Said he’d get us in even if they were booked up, and,” you gesture towards where the two of you are sitting together, “Et voila!”

Carmy takes a look around. He hasn’t been in a fine dining establishment since he left New York. It’s as if all the fancy awards and all the dues he’s paid cooking in the best restaurants in the entire world don’t matter anymore. He feels so out of place: the people, the over-the-top cocktails, the overpriced bowls of food called something fancy to justify the high price point.

“From the kitchen” your bartender had said curtly, a mere few minutes ago. He had placed a few plates in front of the two of you to share that you most certainly didn’t order.

You both had thanked the bartender, before digging into the large bowl of soup, stracciatella, and focaccia bread on the plate. You rip off pieces of bread, dipping them into the salty broth, popping them into your mouth. Carmy’s much more of a gentleman about it, using his spoon to try the soup first. You had only planned on drinking here, but your friend at The Aviary had really come through. You’re sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re here with Carmy, and that these guys definitely know who Carmy is.

“So…” you start, taking a sip of whatever fizzy strawberry gin thing you’d ordered earlier. “I feel like there are a lot of long stories I’d like to hear.”

Carmy makes a sound in agreement before taking a sip of his drink. It’s just bourbon on the rocks, and you wonder when he started drinking bourbon like this.

“I mean… we could start here. How the hell are ya?” you ask.

“I…” he starts, before trailing off. He buries his face in his hands, dragging his fingertips across his forehead. “It’s uh, it’s been a long couple of months. Christ. The restaurant was a goddamn mess, everyone hated my fuckin’ guts. And then Syd showed up and, well, she’s been a big help.”

You wait a beat before saying, “As much as I want to hear about the restaurant, Carm, I mean how are you doing?”

Your words stop him, and he looks up at you with those baby blue eyes. He takes his time thinking about it, shrugging before muttering something along the lines of, “I’m okay, I guess.”

He’s searching for the right words to explain how the hell he’s even supposed to answer that question.

“I don’t know. Guess I thought if I fixed the restaurant, if I could fix it-. Maybe I could fix him,” he drags out.

He waits a few beats before finally admitting:

“I miss him. Mikey. And I found out all kinds of shit about him that I-, well, shit I didn’t know. I think-, I think it’s why he kept me away. Why he shut me out.”

You listen as he begins to fill you in: about Mikey, the drugs, the debt he inherited that he now owes to Cicero, how hard it was to win over the kitchen staff that, come hell or high water, weren’t interested in changing their ways. And then he tells you about the meetings he's been going to -- the al-anon meetings. And you begin to understand. While he’s the same old Carmy, this isn’t the exact same Carmy that you knew in New York. The Carmy you knew in New York never would’ve gone to those meetings. He would’ve brushed it off and pretended there wasn’t a problem and taken as much punishment as he could in the kitchen instead of dealing with what he was feeling.

Mikey’s death, and coming home, and this restaurant, it’s all changed him.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s part of the reason why, after months of no contact, he reached out to you now, but he’s not sure if he should tell you that yet.

You’ve got to give it to him. If anything, he’s exceptionally talented at cutting people out of his life. It’s his M.O – the only thing that’s been consistent in his life – even when those people didn’t deserve it. It’s what he knows to do. It’s something he’s learned… from Mikey, from his dad…

But this… what he’s telling you, these are stories of connection and community.

“And Syd’s really helped me pull this shit together. She's kinda like... the glue, y'know? I- I don’t know where we’d be without her,” Carmy concludes.

You agree. Syd is brilliant. You can see just from having been in that kitchen that she’s been the biggest catalyst for the changes — even his.

“I know you only asked me to come for pastry but I’m glad you let me jump in on the line tonight,” you say. “It’s cool to see what you’re doing now and… I don’t know. I know it was a rocky start, but you’ve got something here. Something that could be really, really good, Carm. You’re making real fucking food. Like your mom’s chicken. I haven’t forgotten about that.”

“How can you remember that?” Carmy asks, a little surprised, his eyes lighting up. He’d almost forgotten that he’d once made it for you while you were both still in New York.

You nod, “Best chicken piccata I’ve had in my life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hands down.”

“You know,” you start, a mischievous tone in your voice. “If I recall correctly, you made me some pretty bomb meals back in New York. And didn’t I say something along the lines of you really shining when-?”

“Oh no,” he groans. “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying!” you justify, innocently. “When you cook the food you grew up with, Carm, you’re at your very best. And don’t get me wrong. You’re an exceptional chef, regardless of what you do but-.”

“So what? You’re gonna say ‘I told you so?’” he questions, shooting you a look.

You shrug, playfully, “I can’t help it if I’m right all the time,” earning an eye roll from him.

“Especially when it comes to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, because you do know him. You’ve seen sides of him he’s barely let anyone else see. It feels good and terrifying all at once to be seen this clearly.

“Yeah, well, you always were a little more Mozza than French Laundry, huh?” he shoots back, referencing your difference in preference. While Mozza was more family style, The French Laundry, a restaurant Carmy had worked at once upon a time, was anything but.

“Yeah. Who knew one day we’d switch places?” you reply, a sadness in your voice. Were you… envious of what Carmy had? Was this what you were looking for?

“So uh, you gonna tell me what the hell happened with the restaurant?” Carmy asked, changing the subject – changing the subject to you.

You sigh, you raise your drink to your lips, finishing the rest of what’s in the glass in one go.

“That bad, huh?”

“No!” you’re quick to reply. “Well, yes. But no. But yeah….”

Carmy flags the bartender down, ordering another round for the two of you.

You’re not even sure where to begin in regards to the existential crisis of sorts that you’ve been having, so you just tell him what happened.

“I was juicing blood oranges one day. And-, you know we were going to take the juice and do all that fancy gastronomy shit with it… turn it into like, the same consistency of ‘dew in the early morning’…” you began to explain, quoting what your head pastry chef had said that day.

“And I’m sitting there thinking… what the hell am I doing? I mean, who eats food like this?! Who wants to eat a drop of blood orange juice that’s been turned into the consistency of dew in the early mornings? Like, why the fuck can’t I just make the best blood orange olive oil cake anyone’s ever had, and that be enough, you know?”

“And. I don’t know. It got me thinking a lot about the kind of food I want to make, and what that would mean, and what does any of this shit even mean? Fast forward to a week later, and I don’t feel like I have a fuckin’ clue about what I want to do with my life and I’m quitting the restaurant.”

You pause, noticing that he’s just been listening attentively this whole time.

“I’m tired, Carm,” you admit. “I mean. I’m burnt the hell out. I just. I don’t want to work this hard for something that- something that I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.”

Another beat.

“I know it sounds totally insane but-.”

“No! No, it doesn’t,” Carmy interrupts, quick to reassure you, as he reaches for your hand. Your eyes flicker from his hand on yours, the small tattoo above his wrist, then back to him, feeling the loss of body heat as he pulls his hand back only a moment later.

“I feel like I’ve been thinkin’ about a lot of the same shit,” he admits, empathizing with you.

“I just feel… kind of lost,” you say, and it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. “I do. I-, I’ve been feeling really lost lately.”

In all the time he’s known you, never could he have expected you to feel lost. He wondered if he’d just put you on a pedestal. You had always been this stunningly charismatic, charming person that could walk into any room and in minutes, have everyone wrapped around your finger. For so long he denied any feelings for you because he knew you were unattainable – that someone like you could ever want someone like him felt impossible. Wouldn’t you be better off with one of those Wall Street assholes that came into the restaurant all the time – wining and dining their clients with their expensive wristwatches and fancy town cars?

But hearing you say it – that you feel lost – it reminds him that you’re only human too.

He waits another beat, guilt filling up his throat, before he speaks again.

“I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry.”

There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes you want to trust him. Sure, it seems like he’s been apologizing to you for three days straight, but you want to listen.

You take another sip of your drink.

“I started volunteering at a Brooklyn community garden so I could like, pull my head out of my ass,” you share with him.

“Did it help?”

You shrug, “Yeah, a little bit.”

It helped, but it hadn’t fixed anything. You feel like you can confide in him, especially since he told you that he was going to meetings.

“My therapist actually encouraged me to come here,” you confess, gauging his reaction as the words flow from your mouth. “Get out of dodge. Get a change of scenery… give myself some time to think.”

“We both know you do a little too much of that,” he teases gently, and you chuckle.

Between Carmy’s avoidance, and your neuroses, you’re quite the pairing.

“Yeah.”

Carmy pauses, not sure if he has the words to give you the explanation you deserve, but he’s going to try.

“I had… a lot goin’ on. When I got back. And I didn’t know….” He pauses before continuing. “I didn’t know how to do it all at once. How to handle, you know… everything at the same time.”

And it’s just easier to avoid everything – to avoid you, to avoid the way I feel about you, he thinks to himself.

And it’s exactly what he did, he pushed you away, and pushed any and all feelings or thoughts about you into a dark hole, never to be acknowledged ever again.

Until you quit your job. Until his phone call with Tim. Until his phone call with you.

“I know, Carm. I know you’re sorry and I appreciate the apology,” you start, taking a breath. “It’s just that-. I need you to know...”

You pause, suddenly feeling like you’re in the middle of an anxiety dream where you realize you’re not wearing any pants.

“I need you to know that it hurt. It… it really hurt. Not hearing from you. Being cut out like that.”

“I know,” he admits, remorsefully. “I’m gonna be better. At least I’m trying to be.”

“I really want to believe that,” you say, softly.

But I don’t want to get hurt again, you think to yourself.

He looks at you, a soft, shy smile on his face, and it makes you want to take a chance on him.

Who are you kidding? You’d jump off of a bridge with him if he asked, even if it meant getting hurt all over again.

“Okay?” he asks, hopefully.

You’re not sure if he’s asking if it’s okay, if you’re okay, if everything is okay between the two of you, and you wonder if he means all three.

“Okay,” you answer, quietly.

“Okay.”

read: part four

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich

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kinkyliterotica · 1 year

Text

(This image belongs to Sony and I do not claim ownership of it)

Venom x Eddie Brock x OC M/M/F Threesome Smut

Summary: Eddie introduces his new romantic interest, Shannon Walker (single mom), to his alien companion and partner Venom. After a glass of wine and a lot of reassurance she decides she’s ready to handle both men. At the same time.

Warnings: Smut, Possessive!Venom, Threesome, Size Kink, Monster Fucking, Slime, Creampie, Tentacles, Rough Sex, Deep Throat, Oral

———

(Part 1)

After a long evening of important conversations about single parenting, ‘where their relationship was going’, Shannon was feeling reassured and content. That was until Eddie let it slip that Venom had an interest in being…involved with her.

She adjusted herself on the couch. Her red dress rode up her plump thighs, her hands played with the stem of her wine glass. Eddie sat opposite of her, looking slapdash but handsome. In a wrinkled shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a pair of gray trousers. He looked so human, which made Venom’s head floating between them seem all the more strange, and alien. His white eyes were shiny and reflective. His teeth were cluttered, jagged, and completely intimidating.

Shannon laughed a little nervously and asked, “Wait, how that would even work. You know…the three of us?”

Venom wrapped his sleek tendrils around her back and pulled her closer to Eddie. Her skirt was almost entirely pooled around her hips. Venom spoke softly into her ear. As softly as he could with his deep otherworldly voice.

“I can show you. You’ve never seen the things I can do.”

Shannon’s own softer human voice shook, she asked “Have you ever been with a woman before-a human woman?”

“I’m Dylan’s father too, you know.”

Eddie looked between the two of them, unsure of how Shannon was responding to Venom. They’d never interacted like this before. He had always been the intermediary.

Eddie told Venom, “Alright buddy, ease up a bit.”

Eddie then spoke to Shannon, “I know you’re nervous, and if you want to turn to the door and bolt you can go for it. But before you do, you should know, we really like you. And if you give us a chance I’m sure we can change your mind about the whole alien thing.”

Shannon doesn’t say anything, she takes a small brave breath, picks up Eddie’s hand, and takes him to the bedroom.

Eddie’s apprehension faded quickly.

Eddie asked, “So I guess, uh, a little bit of freakiness turns you on huh?”

Shannon laughed and said, “You don’t know the half of it.” Shannon meant freaky in a very different way than Eddie and Venom did. She had some experience with deep throating and anal, maybe some water sports. This was freaky on a whole other level.

As they entered the bedroom, Venom’s tendrils appeared out of Eddie’s body. The appendages started to slide underneath her clothes, lifting them from her body expertly. Her dress was pulled down, her tights slid down to her ankles, her hair released from its small claw clip. She became alert, she was being touched in so many places by Venom’s cold tendrils it’s overwhelming.

Suddenly she was lifted off of the ground by Eddie while Venom slipped her clothes off of her body entirely. She starts panting, she couldn’t keep up.

Eddie leaned in closely and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, I’ve got you.”

Venom leaned into her other ear, “She’s not afraid Eddie, I can smell her.”

Venom growled and licked a line up her neck and jaw with his strong long tongue. She shivers violently, the sensation so foreign but so tantalizing. She stifled a meek moan. Venom laughed, and the sound rumbled in Eddie’s chest.

“She wants me.”

Eddie chides him, “She wants us, don’t you baby?”

Eddie pulls Shannon closer, burying his face in her neck and littering it with kisses.

Shannon stutters, “Yes, uh, yes. Sorry I’m just...would you two give it a rest for a minute!”

Eddie and Venom stop suddenly, worried they’ve done something wrong. Shannon pushed against them slightly, giving herself room to breathe. They had to work up to that kind of intensity. It was too much.

Shannon shook her choppy hair out of her face and started undressing Eddie. She pulls his pants around his ankles and pushes him down on the bed before ripping his pants off. He pushed himself up on his elbows, a wide smile on his face.

Eddie snickers, “Yeah I like that.”

Shannon smiled, “Shut up.”

Shannon crawled on top of Eddie and started licking and sucking in his earlobe. Her teeth graze the sensitive flesh of his neck, and now it’s her turn to make him shiver. This was much more comfortable, being in control.

“You two keep acting like I’m some flustered schoolgirl. You’ve got all the tricks and I’m just going to lay here and be amazed huh? Wrong.”

Shannon’s fingers drag down his chest and end up on his boxers. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband and grabs hold of his hard cock. She strokes up and down gently.

She continues, “I got laid more in college than you two have in your entire life. Now lay back and let me show you what I can do.”

Eddie laughed, and replied with a satisfying, “Yes ma’am.”

Shannon heard nothing from Venom. She hoped she’d shut him up, but in reality she knew he was lying in wait, biting his tongue.

Shannon pulled Eddie’s boxers down with his help. She shifted herself lower. She knelt on the floor and put her face an inch above his crotch. She wrapped her hands around his length and started pumping. Eddie moaned with relief. As soon as she got a steady pace she took out her tongue and licked him from ball sac to tip. Eddie nearly bucked off of the bed, and the moan he let out thrilled her even more. He was making him weak, making this strong man, this superhero, moan and writhe beneath her. She could taste the power.

Eddie wrapped his fingers in her hair and gently eased her away from his balls and onto his length. She adjusted her throat to his length, he’s a good size but not uncomfortable. She ran her tongue down his shaft as she wet his dick with her saliva. Her mouth made sharp wet noises that made Eddie’s cock throb.

Eddie looks down at Shannon, “Damn she knows what she’s doing, huh V?”

Venom laughed in a sickening and lingering way that made Shannon’s confidence wane.

“We’ll see my love.”

Shannon feels Eddie’s body adjust around her, the thighs she rested her arms on were suddenly growing, turning black, expanding all around her. The length in her mouth also grew, what used to fit comfortably between her cheeks was now extending into the free space between them. When the top of Venom’s length hits the back of her throat she gagged.

Shannon’s head shot up and glared at Venom, who laid back casually with his arms behind his head, his body eating up the whole length of the bed and then some.

Shannon scowled at Venom's cocky smirk, his teeth glistening. “No fair.” She complained

“You’re so nice to Eddie, what about me? I’ve been waiting as long as he has. Watching you from behind his eyes, feeling your body beneath his hands. Don’t I deserve some…attention?”

Shannon sat back on her haunches and laughed, “Oh, you want attention, is that it? You’re feeling left out?”

Venom hisses, his tongue rattling like a snake.

“Yesssssss.”

Shannon laughed and Venom sat up more quickly than she expected based on his sheer size. Suddenly he was towering over her. Her knees were still on the ground, she felt so incredibly small, so vulnerable.

Venom took his clawed hand and gently and lovingly stroked her cheek with it. The sensation was smooth and unlike skin, but it was comforting. She leaned into his touch and enjoyed the affection. The gap between them was closing, the distance between Eddie and Venom coming together.

Venom asked honestly, “Are you afraid of me?”

Shannon became determined. She shook her head ‘no’ and commanded, “Lie down”.

Venom settles himself and Shannon lowers her mouth onto his length. It’s huge and wet with precum, he is hard and ready for her. She can’t swallow the whole thing but does her best with her hand to substitute.

Venom interjects, “It’s not…too big for you is it?”

Shannon says stubbornly, “Of course not.”

“Good, I’ll enjoy trying to make it fit.”

Shannon stretched her throat to its absolute limit. His size was unimaginably girthy, her lips barely went down ⅓ of his entire length. Her teeth grazed skin but it didn’t seem to bother him. She pumped her head up and down, trying to mimic what she did for Eddie. Her hand worked tirelessly down his shaft.

After only a moment Venom shrunk away and Eddie returned. He picked her head up, her eyes filled with tears from the strain and he kissed her forehead lovingly.

Eddie sighs, “Alright that’s enough, I think we should take a break for a bit.”

Shannon wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. She sat up angrily this time. She had just gotten a rhythm going, and Eddie came out to ‘give her a break’. “I don’t know if you two are trying to drive me crazy, but it’s certainly working!”

Eddie held his hands up incredulously. “What the hell? What did I do?”

Shannon threw her hands down on the bed, “You bastards, you have me suck the biggest dick I’ve ever seen, tease me with the longest tongue I’ve ever seen, and you want to take a break?! I’m losing my mind over here boys!”

Eddie’s expression turned from concern to hunger as Venom took over again. His face grows that terrifying set of teeth and he wets them with his truly impressive tongue.

“You underestimated her Eddie, she loves the monster just like you do. You had better be ready, little human.”

Her whole world turned upside down and she saw a black blur move above her, pinning her down. Her shoulders pressed painfully into the cheap mattress.

Shannon squealed as Venom spread her legs and licked the tip of her clit with his tongue. She couldn’t hold back the pornographic moans as Venom showed her how long his tongue really is.

She fisted the sheets and cried out in pleasure while Eddie admired the view from behind Venom's eyes, God she is beautiful as she writhed around in the sheets.

Venom stopped playing around and fucking her with his tongue more roughly. He had incredibly precise control over the appendage and Shannon could feel him dragging it along her walls. She was soaking, both his tongue and the sheets. Everytime her hips threatened to buck off the bed, a new appendage shot out to hold her down. He was everywhere, all over her. Binding her, trapping her. When she was near total bliss he used his tentacles to play with her nipples. They were so skilled and knew exactly how to twist and pull to make her cry out.

Shannon could barely breathe, “You feel so fucking good.”

“I know, delicious thing, I know. Are you prepared to take something much bigger?”

Shannon tried to think through the lusty fog. She stumbled with her words, “Eddie first.”

Venom didn’t complain as Eddie fronts again.

Eddie leaned down and saw her wrecked and wet body. He kissed every part of Shannon that he could find, “You’re doing so good baby, god, I don’t know how you do it.”

Eddie grabs his length and strokes it before lining it up with her hole. What Venom did turned him on just as much as her.

“Did V make you wet baby, did you love it?”

Shannon moaned, “Yes, yes, he was amazing, I want you too please.”

Eddie shoved his length into her easily. She’d been properly prepared, and ever since she had her daughter she didn’t need as much preparation as she once did.

Eddie rocked into her and fell into rhythm easily. He grabbed her legs and hiked them over his shoulders when he lost her cunts tight grip.

Eddie shivered when he hit a good spot. The sensation traveling through his entire body. His eyes were shut tight, “Oh fuck you’re so hot. How long have you been waiting for this huh?”

Shannon nearly tore Eddie’s skin digging her nails into his shoulders. She cried out, “So long!”

Eddie and Shannon keep at a good pace, enjoying the feeling of their bodies finally intertwined and skin against skin. There was no music, no ambient sound, just the rocking of the bed and the sound of wet flesh between them. Eddie was strong, not unlike Venom. His pace and stamina was nearly superhuman.

Venom growled, “I need her Eddie, let me out.”

Eddie tried to soothe him, “Give me a minute, V, she’s not-“

Venom crawled through Eddie’s skin and suddenly Shannon is more full than she ever has been. She seizes up around his cock and feels like she’s going to burst.

She hears his chest rattle with another growl but she’d shut her eyes tight, focusing on keeping herself calm as her walls are stretched to capacity.

Shannon kept her eyes shut, unsure if she could handle seeing a dark monster above and inside her. She took a deep breath, “I’m trying Venom, please go slow!”

Venom resisted his urge to plunge into her. It wasn’t fair. She looked so happy taking Eddie, and all he wanted was a chance to make her that happy. To make her that blissful and wanton and slutty just like she’d been for him.

“I forget, you humans are so breakable.”

Venom moved his hips gently, his cock pumping as softly as he could manage, and still every time his hips moved towards Shannon her body seized up in pain. There was a part of him that enjoyed seeing her suffer. That wanted to make her cry and scream for him. But now was not that time.

Eddie was as desperate to have Shannon accept Venom as he was. He gave Venom a suggestion in his mind.

Venom agreed and picked up Shannon’s body and sat her on top of his lap. His legs rested beneath his hind quarters.

Venom took her hand and placed it on her lower stomach. She can feel the outline of his enormous cock on her stomach and she knew that it thrilled him. It felt almost frightening to think about how much she had stretched for him.

She gasped, “I-I can feel it. I can feel you, I–”

“Shh shh shh.”

The sound reassured her instantly. Venom held her close and supported her entire weight with his arms. She was not as small as she was when she was younger, but in his monstrous arms she weighs nothing.

His whisper sounded like a deep rattle, “Ride me.”

Shannon knew that this was an invitation to set the pace, she started out slow and worked her way up until she loosened up. Just enough that the stretching is no longer uncomfortable.

Venom drooled watching her. Her brows drawn together with focus, her hands dug into his shoulders to support herself, her skin sheened with sweat. His slick saliva dripping down his chest and hers, his white eyes watched her every move.

Venom smiled, “Such plump delicious flesh. You would make a tasty snack.”

Shannon felt a shiver of fear go up her spine. He wouldn’t be allowed to have her fear. Instead she spat back at him, “Not until you make me cum you pussy!”

Venom snarled at the challenge and threw Shannon onto her back.

“You’re lucky I like you little one. It will only hurt, a little.”

The time for gentleness was over. He plowed into her, he either ignored or was incited by her screams. He jackhammered his cock into her until her mind almost felt numb with overstimulation. Real tears were streaming down her face, her voice croaked from the effort. Her fingers dug into his arms.

A tendril wrapped around her mouth, silencing her. He leaned his enormous head down. Venom’s voice shook with excitement. His voice boomed, so loud and so wild she feared for her life.

“We’re just getting started little human. So much more of you to DEVOUR!”

Shannon shivered as she came vaginally around his cock, she screamed as she finished. Her walls pulsed around him, encouraging her partner to finish. Venom’s hands grasped her hips painfully against his. His cock was harder than ever, filled to burst. Venom punched the mattress beneath her, shredding it as he pumped her full of cum. It was hot and messy and she swore she could feel it crawling inside of her. Both of their bodies shook violently.

Venom recoils and Eddie is left, still cumming from his own cock as he pulls out of her. “You’re so fucking crazy I love it.”

Shannon felt the soreness settle on suddenly as her orgasm passed. All of that stretching did more damage than she thought and she was suddenly overcome with discomfort that dragged her pleasure down beneath its wave.

Shannon grunted, “Yeah that was pretty fucking crazy huh?”

Eddie gave Shannon space to sit up, he watched her face contort in pain and suddenly he’s concerned. Venom hadn’t been with a woman since Anne, and even then Anne was competitive even with herself. She would have never admitted that Venom could hurt her. Her pride was too great.

They didn’t know her the way they did Anne, their and Shannon’s first time together was impulsive and full of heady chemistry, but who knows how she felt now that the tension had been broken.

Eddie swallowed thickly, “Hey you uh, you doing alright there?”

Shannon winced as she touched her cunt, “Yes and no.”

Eddie sat cautiously next to her, looking at her face for reassurance, “To be honest I’m gettin’ a little concerned here. Was that the best sex you ever had or did we just massively fuck up?”

Shannon laughs abortively, “Best sex I’ve ever had no doubt, I’m just really really sore. I haven’t been stretched out like that since…ever.”

Eddie kissed Shannon, he stroked her face trying to comfort her, “You were such a champ, I can’t tell you how impressed I am.”

Shannon asked, “What about you, Venom?”

Venom’s head whipped around the side of Eddie, he nuzzles her face like a cat and she giggles.

“What about me?”

Shannon asks, “How was it for you?”

Venom laughs, “Would you care for me to show you how I feel?”

Shannon patted his head, “Later, I need to freshen up, and take a Tylenol. Maybe a shot of tequila if I’m being honest.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you need.”

Eddie helped Shannon up, she went to the bathroom and rinsed off in the shower. She gently lapped the water into her cunt as she tried to cool down the sensitive nerves. She dried off and decided she doesn’t want anything else touching her lower half.

She moved slowly out of the bathroom and saw Eddie and Venom pouring whiskey into glasses. They’re talking to each other but she couldn’t make out any distinct phrases.

Shannon smiled weakly when their face landed on her, “I know you’re feeling ambitious boys but I think I’m tapped out for the night.”

Eddie looked concerned once more, “Here, take a drink, let’s sit down, no more funny business.”

Shannon said, “If this is going to become a regular thing I’m going to need to get some desensitizing gel or something. My cunt is wrecked.”

Venom snarks, “Oh yeah I bet it is.”

Eddie snapped, “Would you shut up genius? You almost broke her in half. Show some respect.”

Venom's tentacles slithered out and picked up Shannon and placed her on the couch. He slid a blanket onto her and placed the whiskey in her hand.

Shannon smiled, “Mmm thank you.”

The three of them decide to watch a movie but the both of them were asleep before it ended.

#monster smut #x reader #oc smut #monster fucker #monster #venom smut #venom symbiote #venom x reader #eddie brock #eddie x venom #rough smut #unprotected sex #tentacles #dom/sub #carnage #we are venom #venom

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xuchiya · 16 days

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"R1 rider" || yeosang x female reader

genre: fluff, (small tinge) angst words: 1052 i love motorbikes, i want to own one too :<

Your sister bid you farewell as she gets in the car assisted by Park Seonghwa, her personal bodyguard since the beginning of her reign. Being the first woman to own all the inheritance from your late grandfather.

You wave her goodbye as the figure of the car slowly mini in your eyesight before you exhale heavily, your hand falling to your side with a small sound of skin slapping. The massive weight on your shoulders was getting heavier and heavier each time you step inside the seraglio and the unending duty as the next noblewoman of the company, this time what your grandmother willed,pressed down on you like an iron mantle, suffocating and relentless.

“Lady, we have to return home for your evening class.” Your aide— NingNing spoke softly beside you before gesturing you towards the car. You nodded before settling inside the backseat. NingNing and your driver sitting in the front seat, she turned to you with a soft look, “You can make an excuse to not attend dear, i know how tiring all of these are.”

You shake your head, giving her a small smile, “No it’s okay Ning, it’s just an hour and half class. I can still attend it.” She nodded her head, understanding your wishes before telling the driver to return back home.

As the car moves silently on the dark night of May, you notice a drizzle of rain hitting the window, creating a glinting of lights on the lamppost. A smile grew on your lips, your finger hovering on the regulator of the window and lowering the car window— the sudden wind noise inside the car raises alert on your two companions but NingNing assures the driver quietly that it is alright.

NingNing is a few years older than you, just around the same age as your sister yet it feels you have another sister, so she knows you like the back of her hand.

Like a kid again, you wave your hand up and down similar to how a mermaid swims. Then after a while, you open your palm to catch the rain— watching the splash on your fingers and the touch of the roughness of your hand. It was times like these you would recall being carefree from the world full of politics, rules and regulation, responsibilities that you only cared about your unfinished addition and your multiplication table homework. You would waste one wish to relive that moment of being a kid, watching F1 (both vehicles) and then take an obsession of collecting the models of the racers.

Just as you were enjoying your time with thoughts of your childhood, you were greeted with the intense yet familiar tune of the exhaust pipe of R1 Yamaha. Your ears perk up to the sound of the engine; your head snaps towards 4 zooming motors that went past your car.

Your heart was beating on how beautiful the motors were, you wanted to own one but you were forbinded as it is not un-lady-like for you to own one— hence riding one. Even with the harsh words, it did not falter how you still love to collect them.

Few more motors passed by until a bike neared your car, you were so caught up with the sounds until a gloved hand took your hand. You were taken back, feared roared inside you as you took upon his presence, he wore a dark leather long coat with red painting some parts of his coat, his visor was up and you managed to catch a glimpse of his long lashes decorating a few droplets of water on it, his glimmering eyes and his birthmark.

“Put your hand inside baby, it's dangerous!” His voice was muffled inside his helmet but it was still clear with what he said. He gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go and drove off. Your heart suddenly flew up to your throat, your cheeks flaring from the mere interaction.

“Lady, are you okay?! Who is that?!”

“Who was that? Back up are chasing that vehicle! 1027 kindly track down—!” Your driver suddenly reported on his walkie talkie which alerted you as you heard a confirmation that you suddenly shot up from your seat and took the walkie talkie in your hand, “No no don’t chase him! This is your lady speaking, do not chase him, he’s harmless!”

You felt the walkie talkie make noises in confirmation before you heard the siren turned off not far from your car. You gave the walkie talkie back to NingNing, you huffed out looking back outside, “He was just telling me to put my hand back in …”

“Why my lady?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

6 months later …

“I have assigned you your bodyguard, dear.” Your father said, you furrowed your eyebrows— glancing behind you were NingNing and 3 more of yours and your father’s bodyguard were trailing not so far— She bows her head indicating she did not know anything about it.

You turn back to your father, “Why? I don’t need more bodyguards! They’re enough.” Your father sighs, shaking his head, “He knows more combat skills and he is friends with Park Seonghwa. They were in the same academy.”

You scoffed, watching from the corner of your eyes as two male in suits bowed in your presence as they opened the doors of your father’s meeting room wherein you will meet your new bodyguard. Your father’s emotion change into a soft look as he glance at the male across the room, “Ah~ Yeosang, how have you been son?” Your dad brought the guy in his arms as they quickly shared a hug before leading him to your spot.

As your eyes settled on the guy, your heart started speeding up as you locked eyes with the same one you saw 6 months ago, your eyes flickered to the birthmark and you were indeed more surprised that it was really him. Your hands become sweaty when he approach you.

A smile on his face as he took your hand, reaching to touch his lips— he kissed the back of your hand— without tearing his eyes off you, he gave your hand a squeeze– the same amount of strength when he did it back then, “It’s nice to finally meet you … baby.”

You snatched back your hand back, making your cheeks flared, Yeosang chuckles softly, "Why my lady?"

You furrow your brow, clearing your throat as your eyes flickers everywhere, catching your aide's teasing look then back to him, "Because it's dangerous."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang au #yeosang x reader #yeosang #ateez kang yeosang #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang ateez

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thekingofwinterblog · 9 months

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The Importance of Banter: Varric Tethras

So one of the more interesting takes I've gotten on my breakdowns of Dragon Age characters is the argument that Varric in terms of character development is one of the lesser characters in the game.

He stays the same, doesn't change much from beginning to end, and while enjoyable, his inclusion doesn't add nearly as much as some of the other characters in the game, and relies way too much on the goodwill from da2 to do most of the legwork for his inclusion in the game.

Now this isn't an argument without merit, I might agree a lot with this take... If it wasn't for the inclusion of one Dragon Age's staples, and one of the aspects that Inquisition arguably does better than ether ADO or DA2.

Character Banter.

Character Banter is extremely important because it gives us an insight into how characters think, how they interact, and showcases the more subtle elements that aren't always on display in the game itself.

Compared to the rest of the Characters, Varric is a bit different in that because he was a companion in the previous game, we can see how he's changed since the previous game.

Cassandra Pentaghast

So it's not an exaggeration to say that Cassandra and Varric has what is easily the most dynamic relationahip between any of the companions, having far and away the most interactions together out of party(And thats not even including the fact that all of DA2 is technically them talking to each other.

And this is reflected in their banter as well, where the two of them go back and forth like a married couple.

The thing that most be understood about Cassandra and Varric's banter though, is the fact that Varric is way, way smarter than Cassandra, who isn't dumb, but is not a genius by any stretch, which is reflected in the Dwarf's tendency to run rings around her all the time.

Cassandra: Have you heard from any of your Kirkwall associates Varric?

Varric: You're asking me? So you don't read my letters?

Cassandra: You're no longer my prisoner, much as you like to act like it.

Varric: Yet I still get all the suspicion.

Cassandra: I am not without sympathy, especially given recent events.

Varric: Why, Seeker, I would never accuse you of having sympathy! By the way I tend to refer to my "associates" as "friends". Maybe you're not familiar with the concept.

Cassandra: (sigh)

---

Varric: You know, Seeker, for someone with your tact and charisma you assembled a... pretty good little Inquisition. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you didn't drag them all here by force.

Cassandra: How kind of you.

Varric: I mean, you never know, you could have kidnapped Ruffles and she'd be too polite to say anything.

Cassandra: Leliana recruited Josephine. They're... friends.

Varric: So there's a rational explanation after all. Just when I thought you had layers.

---

Varric: It makes sense that Leliana did the recruiting when the Inquisition started. Not everyone can be intimidated into signing up after all.

Cassandra: I recruited Commander Cullen.

Varric: Lucky him.

Cassandra: He has made no complaints about my manners.

Varric: His last boss was a raving lunatic who turned into a statue. That's not a high bar.

All of these three bits of banter is from early in their shared chain, and illustrates their dynamic very, very well. Varric reads Cassandra like an open book, and is able to completely take control over a situation just by playing the role of the ass who is just sniping at her because he feels like it, when what he's actually doing is maneuvering the conversation so it can end on him having the last words by playing on the things Cassandra knows she cannot refute without lying.

That takes a lot of sponanous wit and an ability to think on the spot, something cassandra does not possess, but Varric has in plenty.

Of course this dynamic is only at the start as they have plenty more as the story develops. One innparticular is their relationship regarding Varric's liturature, which is one of the more entertaining side quests in the game, but it does tell us more about them in the followup banter.

Varric: Seriously? Swords and Shields? How did you find that serial? Scrape it off the bottom of a barrel in Dust Town?

Cassandra: It was research! I thought I might learn more about the Champion.

Varric: I did write a book about the Champion. You might remember it. Had your knife stuck through it last I saw.

Cassandra: I already read that one. Twice.

Here we learn how much Cassandra actually loves to read Varric's work, but more importantly we get something we rarely see in Varric. Him talking about his own failures.

Varric likes to pretend he's this amazing writer who always produce masterpieces, as he himself says to Bianca, as if he'd write about his own failures and mistakes...

And yet there is swords and shields, a book that Varric has deemed an abyssmal failure. A joke, a mediocre piece of trash not worth the paper it was printed on... And yet it has it's fans. This work that varric despises still managed to find an audience, and despite how much satisfaction he had smugly giving it to Cassandra, that still grinds his gears.

People shouldn't like his bad work. It should be forgotten in favor of his masterpieces. A very dwarven way of thinking.

Varric: I can't believe you picked the absolute worst of my books to read. Why not Hard in Hightown?

Cassandra: I have enough mysteries and investigations of my own.

Varric: What? You don't want to solve more in your spare time?

Cassandra: Then you killed my favorite character in Chapter 3, so I threw the book across the room.

Varric: Ah, a critic. Say no more.

In this one, we get Varric both genuinely questioning Cassandra, as he seems to have assumed she actually does like investigating mysteries(she does not), but also tries to nudge her over to read High in Hightown instead.

Cassandra: Varric, how could you let the Knight-Captain be framed for murder?

Varric: Well, I did spent three entire chapters setting it up.

Cassandra: But she didn't deserve it! You'd already put her through more than enough!

Varric: Look, Seeker, if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. Maybe even throw in a heroic death.

Cassandra: That makes no sense!

Varric: You care enough to argue. If she had a nice afternoon and took a nap, you'd stop reading.

I could deconstruct this, but basically it's just a bit of meta commentary on what makes a good story. Not only will it not be the last, but it's not even the most blatant. After all, this one could apply to other people besides Hawke.

Cassandra: What made you write about Hawke? All your other books are complete fiction.

Varric: Someone had to set the record straight about the Champion.

Cassandra: Yet your book is still full of lies.

Varric: But true ones. That's important.

Varric loves stories... But he understands what stories are at their heart. The difference between a Recounting, and a Tale. That's what history is after all, the Tales everyone passed down.

And what good tale doesn't have a bit of exaggerated bullshit?

Cassandra: Why is the second Hard in Hightown so completely different from the first?

Varric: (sigh) Because I didn't write it. Shit, did you pay actual coin for that book? One of these days, I'm going to find the duster who wrote that garbage and introduce him to my editor.

Cassandra: By "editor," do you mean your crossbow?

Varric: No, my actual editor. Best in the business. She runs half the Coterie in Kirkwall. Stickler for grammar. She once killed a man over a semicolon. I'd never print anything without her.

This one is more meta commentary, but it does have a bit more meat to it. Varric's whole spiel about his editor being super powerful in the Coterie could be the truth, it could be complete bullshit. Or it could be something in between.

That's not the important part. The important part is that he wants Cassandra to guess, to assume, to speculate, because that is far more powerful than just laying it all out could ever be.

Cole: She has to reach the other side of the hill.

Cassandra: Who does?

Cole: The Knight-Captain. But she's injured.

Varric: (sigh) Good job, Kid.

Cassandra: Is she alright? Is that how the book ends?

Varric: Not anymore.

Cassandra: Cole, what happens to her?

Cole: I don't know. The hill went away.

So here we see that Varric is one of THOSE authors. You know the kind, the ones who will rewrite an entire storyline because the big twists was leaked ahead of time.

It's not that important in the grand scheme of things, but it's interesting how through the game we see a very consistent picture of how Varric likes to write. He's a gardner variety writer, but unlike GRRM he's not the kind thst sticks to what he had in mind and sets up if the big twist is learned before it's finished.

As for His banter with Cassandra related to Hawke, it's entertaining, but not exactly that enlightening. Except for one.

If you chose in DA2 to save carver or Bethany by making them grey wardens, you get this bit when Cassandra Questions him about them.

Varric: Aveline took him off somewhere when the Calling started going nuts, but he'll tag along. He always does.

Varric: Aveline took her off somewhere when the Calling started going nuts, but she'll try to keep Hawke out of trouble.

Cassandra misses the obvious, but you probably didn't.

Varric knew about the calling from the start. Oh he didn't know the details, and he didn't know why... But he knew there was something up with the calling from the very start, and probably figured out this was the key reason from day one.

And he didn't share it. At all.

That speaks volumes of where his true loyalties lies, and it's something a lot of people miss.

Cassandra is right. Varric's heart will never truly belong to the Inquisition so long as Hawke and his Kirkwall friends exists outside of it.

There is also a turning point in their conversations, starting around the point where Varric's personal quest with Bianca happened.

Cassandra: Am I to understand your Bianca is married?

Varric: Oh, have we reached the stage where we gossip about each other's love lives?

Varric:��Did you hear that, boss? Don't worry, I'll tell you whatever she says.

Cassandra: Forget I mentioned anything. It was a simple question, Varric.

Varric: There was nothing simple about it.

Varric actually blatantly questions wheter they've reached the point where they are now talking about each others love with each other. The truth is though, they actually have.

Varric: You brought up Bianca, Seeker. Does that mean I can ask about your conquests?

Cassandra: I would rather you didn't.

Varric: No tantalizing secrets to divulge?

Cassandra: None.

(If the Inquisitor is in a relationship with Cassandra)

Varric: So no one within, say, a five foot radius has caught your eye?

Inquisitor: Really? No one at all?

Cassandra: This... is not a discussion I want to have here.

Varric: (laughs) Are you blushing, Seeker? Maker, the world really is coming to an end.

Inquisitor: Perhaps Cassandra—and her conquest—would rather not discuss this in public.

Varric: Spoilsport.

Varric: Nothing? You do know he's standing right there...

Cassandra: I... have no conquests.

Varric: How about dalliances? Liaisons? Illicit affairs?

Cassandra: No.

Sera: Enough poking, Varric.

Varric: Is it, Buttercup? Is it?

It a rather humorous affair, but it does show that Varric at this point is comfortable prodding Cassandra's love life, figuring out how far he can push.

Which speaks for itself at how close these two have gotten at this point.

Cassandra: Very well, Varric. If you wish to know about men I have known, I will tell you.

Varric: Look, Seeker. I was only...

Cassandra: You are right. I pried first, and fair is fair. Years ago, I knew a young mage named Regalyan. He was dashing, unlike any man I'd met. He died at the Conclave.

Varric: Oh.

Cassandra: What we had was fleeting. And years had passed. Still, it saddens me to think he's gone.

Varric: I'm sorry.

Nothing to add here, just that Varric sorta gets sad when he realizes that was friendly prodding touched a very bitter and sad point from Cassandra's pain.

For which he apologizes.

Varric: Look, Seeker, I didn't mean to make you talk about your mage friend.

Cassandra: I know. I was not trying to make you speak of Bianca. If I was, you would know. I would yell, books would be stabbed.

Varric: (Chuckles.) I'll keep that in mind.

Also as the game reaches the end section, Varric and Cassandra begin to really banter in a much more friendly way.

Cassandra: I still don't understand how drakes take that hand.

Varric: ...Hmm. Maybe we should start you on Shepherd's Six.

Cassandra: Isn't that a children's game?

Varric: Yeah.

When trying to teach Cassandra card games at this point in the story, Varric has the perfect set up for a punchline like he did in the early game, but he doesn't use it, because he isn't mocking cassandra here, he's genuinely trying to teach her how to play cards.

And so he suggest starting her off with something simple, like a card game for children, cause he understands thats where she has to start at her level.

There are plenty more, but most of it is just well written, engaging or funny back and forths. But before moving on, i wanna highlight two of them.

Varric: Did you really think the Conclave had a chance of making peace, Seeker?

Cassandra: You do not?

Varric: What was the Divine's plan? Bring everyone together and hope really hard that they would all get along?

Cassandra: Most Holy did not confide her plan to me. Perhaps she thought they were tired of death and conflict.

Varric: Oh, when is that ever been true? For Templars or mages.

Cassandra: I will not mock a dead woman, Varric. She did what she could, and that is more than most.

This conversation is very important for one simple reason. It showcases how much Varric has changed since DA2. Varric used to be one of the big believers in compromise in that game. He didn't come out and say it out right, because in that game the Templar far and away were the more evil faction, and so there was way more chances for Varric to stick up for mages, but Varric really, REALLY didn't want the mages and Templars to go to war.

He had so many friends in both factions, friends he knew would die if it ever did come to true blows.

I would say that varric was probably the best example of what neutrality in such a situation should have been. Someone who is neutral because he understood thst fundamentally, both sides even at their worst, were people. Not demons, not monsters, but human beings or elves. But unlike many others who clamor for neutrality, Varric wasn't stuck up his own ass about it.

If he saw one side go over the ljne, regardless of which it was, he would not just stand by wheter it was power hungry necromantic blood mages, or Templars like Ser Alrik.

But here, he mocks the very idea of neutrality. He has completely given up on it, and he's accepted that the only solution here, is for one side or the other will have to decisively crush the opposition.

Of course he doesnt come out and say it like that, but that's the message to take away here. So long as there is a templar or mage on the field, this war will continue. He doesn't like that fact, but he has accepted it.

Cassandra: I hear reconstruction is progressing well in Kirkwall.

Varric: I know things are bad there.

Cassandra: I wasn't trying to...

Varric: You weren't trying to remind me how bad is it in Kirkwall? So you decided to talk about it?

Cassandra: About its recovery!

Varric: What you're talking about are the buildings, and even that will take years. People don't recover so easily.

Kirkwall, that is to say, the Kirkwall Varric was born in, grew up in, and spent the happiest years of his life(When he was running there with Hawke), is dead and gone, and never coming back.

He is never getting it back.

Which will be very important for the next companion's banter.

Blackwall

Blackwall is different than the rest of the crew in that he's utterly reliant on the Banter to have any sort of presence. He has no charisma in the actual game, but he does showcase a much more entertaining character in banter.

In regards to Varric though, his mian purpose is to showcase aspects of Varric we don't often see.

One of the most important comes very, very early into their relationship.

Blackwall: I once met a dwarf who made the best home-brewed ale.

Varric: I once met a Grey Warden who got possessed by a spirit and then blew up a Chantry and killed a hundred people. What makes people think you want to hear what others of "your kind" have done, anyway?

This is a moment that is:

1. Very uncharacteristic of Varric, who usually loves talking about other people if he gets any excuse to do so, and will be demonstrated in a very similar moment in his banter with the Iron Bull, only with a different reaction.

2. It's here to showcase Varric's hatred for Anders. Other than Sebastian, Varric misses pretty much the entire DA2 cast, his true best friends... Except for Anders.

Varric LOATHES Anders for his actions, for kickstarting the Mage Templar War and getting lots of his friends killed, but also for destroying his home and making his own worst fear come true.

Varric's biggest fear as shown in the fade is becoming his parents... And that's exactly what he has become in DAI. The depressed exile from a home city that he can never return to, and if he does, it won't be the same life they miss so dearly. Varric misses Kirkwall. He misses it's people, the Hanged man, and always thinking back on the glory days of his life.

And he misses Hawke.

All lost to him and never coming back, all thanks to Anders. Varric can never return back to that time, that place, that era, that friend group that was the highpoint of Varric's life, because the city of Champion Hawke and Varric the sidekick is as dead and gone as his parents.

The hanged man will never be the same, Hawke will never be the revered Hero they were after act 2, and every single one of the countless friends that Varric misses will not come back.

And so he hates Anders with a level of hatred he reserves for very, very few people.

The rest of Varric's starting relationship with Blackwall is about him trying to figure out what makes him tick, innitially pegging him as another Sebastian. Boring, safe, droll.

He also has more banter where he shows how depressed he actually is about Kirkwall.

Blackwall: I've been to Kirkwall. The Hanged Man, actually, probably been twenty years now. It was a dive if I remember correctly.

Varric: It's the dive. Filled with the best and worst people in the world.

Blackwall: Yes, I heard it was a haunt of yours.

Varric: Haunt? It was home.

He finally clicks with Blackwall, as they get into a shared passion nobody else in the party has. Jousting. The sport consistent of knocking people of horses with pointy sticks.

As a Free Marcher Varric has grown up with the Grand Tourney as a focal point of his identity, and loves the sport, so he and Blackwall bonds and argues over the sport, with the most notable part being their disagreements over who is the better jousting knight, where he also gives his own cents in the form of a meta commentary between who is the better protagonist, the Hero of Ferelden or Hawke.

Blackwall: You can't really think Reeve Asa is a better knight than Honorine Chastain. Her record's flawless. Four hundred jousts, never unseated. No one's ever come close to it.

Varric: Oh, she's easily the most skilled. That's a fact. It's just "scrappy" is better than "flawless." I like heroes who try their damnedest, even if they fail a lot. It's easy to be valiant when you always win and everything goes your way. There's nothing great in that.

The rather unsubtle meta message here, is comparing the protagonists of the first games.

The warden is the stronger, more skilled and more competent protagonist who ultimately always triumphed, changed the world, and became heralded far and wide as the greatest hero of her age.

Meanwhile Hawke is the scrappy underdog hero who always gets back on their feet regardless of how hard they fall, and never actually suceeds in anything. Hawke is a failure Hero who couldn't save their mother, their city, at least one of their siblings, maybe two, Ketojan, couldn't prevent the Qunari attack, and constantly failed to save the day through DA2.

Now i don't really agree with this rather simplistic reading of the Warden, but it's a good scene, because it shows that Varric is more than capable of overlooking all the work, effort and time it takes to produce a "perfect" result, as well as show that Varric has a very hard preference for underdogs, and the stories they produce.

Which leads into his reaction when Blackwall confesses his sins.

Varric: Maybe I've been too hard on you.

Blackwall: Oh, so you don't think I'm dreadful now.

Varric: Actually, I thought you were boring before. Completely different. We're all dreadful. Every one of us, fundamentally flawed in a hundred different ways. That's why we're here, isn't it? Take all the risks, so the good people stay home where it's safe. With the whole "Blackwall" thing, you told a story so compelling even you started to believe it.

Blackwall: That's much nicer than saying "You're a dirty liar.", I'll take it.

Varric: A story-teller's got to believe his own story, or no one will.

Here we can gleam a sad fact. Varric very pointedly notes "we're all dreadfull", as Us, as in, him included.

Varric doesn't really consider himself a good person anymore, if he ever did.

It's not like the Varric of Yesteryear considered hinself a saint or some knight in shining armor, but there was a sense that he was happy with himself during that game, in a way he is not in DAI.

Something has changed, and that something is guilt over unleashing the red lyrium on the world, and probably guilt over killing his own friends.

It's not really focused on as much as it should be, but Varric had plenty of friends amongst both the mages and Templars... Which meant that when Anders blew up the chantry, regardless of which side you picked, Varric was forced to kill people who genuinely mattered to him.

Hence why he's so quick to forgive Blackwall for his lies.

For the most part this generally manifests itself in regards to Red Lyrium, which he blames himself for bringing into the world. I would argue that the more subtle parts you get to see in Banter though, is far, far more interesting and better told than the stuff in the main quest.

Because despite his flaws he "takes all the risks, so the good people won't have to.", just like Varric and Hawke.

This is in large amount what Varric in Inquisition is for the most part all about. Guilt, self loathing, and wanting to be a better person.

He just masks it with his usual wit, charm and charisma.

Kinda like Blackwall, only he doesn't really have much charisma or wit to hide behind. Hence why he is so accepting of, and willing to give him another chance without question.

On a final note before we move on from Blackwall, we also get to see varric try to play matchmaker between Blackwall and Josephine which is cute, but not exactly surprising, or give us further insight into Varric's character.

Cole

Now, I'm not going to cover Cole here, not because the banter isn't interesting, or we don't learn anything, but that's all from the way we learn about the world, or Cole himself.

Varric's side of these banters can be summed up in one sentence, for pretty much every single banter.

Varric is Cole's dad.

Rinse, repeat.

Dorian

Similarily, I will not be covering the banter with dorian, not because it's bad, far from it, it's some of the most entertaining in the game, but it doesn't exactly add much beyond the fact that both Varric and Dorian love to gamble, and share witty banter.

Also nugs has some creepy ass feet. The stuff of nightmares.

The Iron Bull

Far more to be dissected, can be found in Varric's banter with the Iron Bull.

There is so much to learn from this banter, from Spy work to how the Antaam is viewed by the other Qunari and so on, but we'll focus on the stuff relating to varric, as he and bull talk about a lot of things.

Varric: You're not the first Ben-Hassrath I've run across. Hawke and I went on a caper with one named Tallis.

Iron Bull: You don't say.

Varric: She caused us no end of trouble. You wouldn't know her by any chance?

Iron Bull: Hey, one time I ran into this dwarf on the road. Short, grouchy. You think you might know him?

Varric: I'm in the Merchant Guild. Ten royals says I not only know him—he owes me money.

Iron Bull: Oh. Well... no. I don't know Tallis. Sorry.

In stark contrast to his talk with Iron bull, when not involving Anders or other people he hates, Varric loves to talk about people. To the point that in his comeback to Iron Bull, there is an invitation here for Bull to specify who this random dwarf was, because chances are, he actually might know him, and could elaborate on the guy.

Varric: How could you possibly be a spy?

Iron Bull: Well, it's a pretty easy job. I do some fighting, and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it.

Varric: Heh. Where's the sneaking, the plotting, the subtle machinations?

Iron Bull: If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy. Drinking, fighting, writing notes, that's all it really takes.

Varric: Shit. You're either the worst qunari ever, or the best. I can't decide.

He also showcases great frustration with the way Iron Bull pokes holes in his Bond like spy writing, in favor of the mundane realities of Cloak and Dagger stuff.

Because for all that he prides himself on tall tales, varric does like his writing to somewhat be plausible. Its why he gets pissy at the inquisitor when he tells him how stupid so many parts of DA2 were writing wise, cause Varric wrote it how it happened, and while embelishing it, it was mostly true.

And if his spy writing isn't realistic enough that it might plausibly happen... Then it's not as good as it could be.

Iron Bull: By the way, Varric, you write some nice fight scenes.

Varric: Well, thank you. I'm surprised you think so. They're not exactly realistic.

Iron Bull: I figured that out when the good guy did a backflip while wearing a chain mail shirt.

Varric: And that didn't bother you?

Iron Bull: Back in Seheron, I fell on a guy who tried to stab me in the gut. I felt the blade chip as it went through my gut and hit my back ribs. But I was alive, and on top. I sawed through the armor on the rebel's neck, back and forth, until it went red. I don't need a book to remind me that the world is full of horrible crap.

Varric: Impossible swashbuckling it is.

Meanwhile, this bit is surprisingly layered.

First off, there is Bull's retelling and describing the way he dealt with the Vint while bing impaled as "realistic". If this was not a world with magical healing such as potions or poultices he'd had died from this incident, due to infection if nothing else. That's meant as a bit of meta irony.

But the actual meat of this, is that Varric is just letting Bull rant.

The whole "Backflip while wearing chainmail armor" is something Hawke can literarily do in DA2, Provided you are a rogue Hawke and has high enough stats. If so, when hit by a trap, Hawke will simply backflip out of the way, even if wearing chainmail armor.

It is the kind of shit that for a long was normal for Varric, and he writes it into his fight scenes(Which he has a self dig at calling them not realistic, despite having seen shit like that for himself all the time).

But he doesnt say any of that.

Instead he just lets Bull rant, get it out there how shitty he really feels, because varric knows when to talk, and when to listen, and here is a time to listen.

Varric: So, Bull. You and Dorian?

Iron Bull: Mm-hmm.

Varric: "Two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and Qunari, with only love to keep them together."

Dorian: I don't see how this is even remotely your business, Varric.

Iron Bull: Could you make it sound angrier? "Love" is a bit soft.

Dorian: Please stop helping the dwarf.

Varric: How about passion?

Iron Bull: Yes, that's better. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes. Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.

Dorian: You could at least have had the courtesy to use the bedposts.

Iron Bull: Hey, don't top from the bottom.

Varric: Passion it is, then.

Also, i wanna highlight his banter with bull, if he and dorian hook up, and if both are with him in the party. It's really the only bit of Dorian varric banter with real character meat to it, as it puts Dorian's rarely seen tsundere side on full display, and why he makes such a good match with the easy going, yet equally passionate iron bull.

Iron Bull: Hey, Varric, I was reading your stuff... Where do your bad guys come from?

Varric: Well, some of them come from Tevinter and some are Ben-Hassrath spies... but I like the stories where the villain was the man beside you the whole time. The best villains don't see themselves as evil. They're fighting for a good cause, willing to get their hands dirty.

Iron Bull: All right, that's really deep and all, but I meant where do the bad guys come from literally? The way you write it, it's like they just fall from the sky and land on top on the hero.

Varric: I like to leave some things to the reader's imagination.

Also, final bit i'll cover of these two here. It's both a meta hit of writing in that it's supposed to be about solas, but can also apply to Iron bull, and is a self depreciating dig on the single worst gameplay mechanic from DA2.

Sera

So, as with Cole and Dorian, im not covering this sequence of banter as it doesn't really reveal much about Varric as a character. Its generally just Sera trying her usual bullshit, and Varric taking the piss out of her, much to her frustration.

Im not exactly a big fan of Sera, and even here, where most of their dialogue is about Varric basicaly running rings around her, don't really makes me smile.

There is one bit of banter though, that i do want to highlight.

Sera: (sing-song) La la la la la, Sentinals are shits.

Varric: Like it or not, Buttercup, that’s where you come from.

Sera: Says the undwarfiest dwarf ever!

Varric: Fair enough. Paragons can be shits too.

So, this one i feel is extremely important, for the reason that it goes to showcase that 1. Sera doesn't understand Varric in the slightest, and 2. Really goes to showcase Sera's complete and total lack of self awareness, and just how out of touch she is, raiding other people's homes, and calling them shits for defending themselves.

But that second one i'll save for Sera's banter review.

For this one, I want to highlight how Varric, just like Dorian understands and more importantly loves the Culture he originates from. He knows how shitty dwarven culture can be, and will never avoid taking the piss out of it for all it's flaws, but he also admires it. He admires their ability to create marvels, their grit and determination that has seen them take on the Darkspawn for a hundred years and still stand, and the individuals that stood up and above the rest to serve as legends, just like Hawke and the Inquisitor.

There is a reason his hangouts in both games are decorated full of very traditional dwarven furniture. Because he wants to live in a home that looks dwarven.

Because the past is important.

It's a bit of wisdom he tries, and fails to impart to Sera, that you simply trying to pretend your roots don't exists never works. And he's right. Even though Sera never admits wrong on her own part, she fully admits she burnt out on this spiteful hatred in Tresspasser.

Solas

Solas and Varric's banter though, is far, far more interesting.

Both of them are tricksters, both value the past greatly in their own way, both understands the power of a story, both of them lie to the Inquisitor, and both would rather remain the side character than step up to take the spotlight.

And yet they are different. Opposites almost.

One of Varric's defining feature as a person is that he cares about all his friends and how those friendships transcends the chains of status, having become friends with dwarves, Qunari, kossiths, humans, elves, templars, mages, seekers, antivans, fereldens, kirkwallers, orlesians, tevinters, anders, revains, avvar, and so on.

Solas single defining feature is how he sees everyone he does not knows except for his own, very small list of what he considers countrymen, as not things, and is willing to destroy the world for them to prosper.

Varric stays out of the spotlight cause he likes being the power behind the throne. Solas does it because as the Herald's Judas, he doesn't want anyone to question the many, many questions about him further than they have to.

Varric lives in the present, but respects the past. Solas in the past, and is terrified of the present.

Which leads to some of the most interesting banter in the game.

Solas: By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor.

Varric: Wait, you read my book?

Solas: It was in the Inquisition library. Everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise. Is that common?

Varric: Are we still talking about books or are you asking if everyone I know is a secret agent?

Solas: Are there many tricksters in dwarven literature?

Varric: A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honoring the ancestors. It's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types.

Solas: Curious.

Varric: Not really. Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things are.

Solas questions Varric about the to him, alien Dwarven liturature, trying to figure out what the new, "lesser" dwarves might write about when no longer part of a hivemind.

Varric gives it to him straight, but there is a deeper bit of character here.

Varric is able to explain this to Solas, because as a man who understands Dwarven culture, strengths, flaws, and weaknesses, and how it ticks, as well as undoubtedly having read a lot of dwarven literature, Varric is able to point out all it's shortcomings, or more accurately the way Human and Dwarven literature trends differentiate due to different cultural values.

Varric: You really spend most of your time in the Fade?

Solas: As much as is possible. The Fade contains a wealth of knowledge for those who know where to look.

Varric: Sure, but I don't know how you dream, let alone wander around in there.

Varric: Especially when the shit that comes out of the Fade generally seems pretty cranky.

Solas: So are humans, but we continue to interact with them... when we must.

Here Varric pries a bit into a topic he(If you took him with you in night terrors) only has experienced once before for himself, from someone who knows more about the fade and the veil than anyone.

Solas ends it on a much darker note than Varric assumes though, as what he means is, we have to tolerate them "for now."

Solas: Is it true that the entire dwarven economy relies upon lyrium?

Varric: Mostly. We've got the nug market cornered as well.

Solas: And the dwarves of Orzammar have never studied lyrium?

Varric: If they have, they certainly haven't shared anything up here. Why?

Solas: It is the source of all magic, save that which mages bring themselves.

Solas: Dwarves alone have the ability to mine it safely. I wondered if they had sought to learn more.

Varric: The folks back in Orzammar don't care much about anything but tradition.

So here we have Varric flat out bullshit Solas in several ways. He knows way more about lyrium than most, having studied red lyrium himself, and yet he does not give that information to Soals, the way he does with the Herald, showing that deep down, Varric trusts you far more than Solas, if not as much as Hawke.

He also knows that both surface and underground Dwarves have deeper knowledge of lyrium than any human, being it's the source of all the enchantments and magic, and that while they might not know it's origins, they understand how it works, and how to use it, transport it, store it, and so on.

If there is one thing Orzammar is good at, and not stuck in tradition, it's exploiting Lyrium to the hilt.

And yet he bullshits Solas about it completely. Because this is an early banter, the likely reason is simply that he does not trust him.

Which given his other important lies is not surprising.

And solas later recognizes this.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing.

Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn?

Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it.

Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff.

Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't.

Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is

Solas Attacks Varric's arguments from adifferent angle here, without directly calling him a liar from the banter before, as he points out just how much power Orzammar has through it's economic might, how even if they know how to use Lyrium so effectively, they haven't been wielding that might to effecrively hammer out an anti Darkspawn coalition to crush the darkspawn in their own dens and wipe them out from the source.

Realistically, the dwarves are rhe only ones who could see it done, and yet they havent. Because before Bhelen, there was never a king willing to upend the entire system to get results.

Varric doesn't actually give his direct thoughts in this bit of banter, but it goes into future ones. Before that though, im gonna quickly cover another bit of banter.

Solas: Do you ever miss life beneath the earth? The call of the Stone?

Varric: Nah. Whatever the Stone - capital S - is, it was gone by the time my parents had me.

Solas: But... do you miss it?

Varric: How could I miss what I never had?

Varric: But say I did have that sense, that connection to the Stone. What would it cost me?

Varric: Would I lose my friends up here? Would I stop telling stories?

Varric: I like who I am. If I want to hear songs, I'll go to the tavern.

Solas: You are wiser than most.

Solas worships the past, to such a degree that he thinks being part of a hivemind under the titans, must have been better for the Dwarves, because of what it allowed them to accomplish by magic, and more importantly that it's what they used to be.

And what they used to be, must be better than what they are now, because the past is better.

Meanwhile Varric is content with the present. He never had stone sense, so why worry about it? Why dream of it, why become his parents? That would be absolutely awful, so why not embrace what you have now.

Though Solas doesn't know it, his backhanded praise here is actually even moreso than he knows.

Its backhanded by intention, because he acknowledges that varric is wiser than those who would wail about their lost glory... But as we'll see in the following banter, he regards all Dwarves, regardless of wheter they are like Varric, as lessers and fools. So varric is better... But he is still a fool.

Meanwhile, on Varric's part, it's even more backhanded than Solas intends because Varric is doing exactly what he's saying he isn't here.

Dreaming of glory days when all was simplier and he was a happier man. He's not dreaming of stone sense itself, but the sentiment is the same.

And he knows it. That's one of the saddest things about Varric in DAI. He became his parents, his worst fear, but he's very much aware of that fact.

Solas: Is there at least a movement to reunite Orzammar and Kal-Sharok?

Varric: What is it with you, Chuckles? Why do you care so much about the dwarves?

Solas: Once, in the Fade, I saw the memory of a man who lived alone on an island. Most of his tribe had fallen to beasts or disease. His wife had died in childbirth. He was the only one left. He could have struck out on his own to find a new land, new people. But he stayed. He spent every day catching fish in a little boat, every night drinking fermented fruit juice and watching the stars.

Varric: I can think of worse lives.

Solas: How can you be happy surrendering, knowing it will all end with you? How can you not fight?

Varric: I suppose it depends on the quality of the fermented fruit juice.

Solas: So it seems.

---

Solas:: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little.

Varric: And why is that?

Solas:: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream.

Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.

---

Varric: What's with you and the doom stuff? Are you always this cheery or is the hole in the sky getting to you?

Solas: I've no idea what you mean.

Varric: All the "fallen empire" crap you go on about. What's so great about empires anyway?

Varric: So we lost the Deep Roads, and Orzammar is too proud to ask for help. So what? We're not Orzammar and we're not our empire.

Varric: There are tens of thousands of us living up here in the sunlight now, and it's not that bad.

Varric: Life goes on. It's just different than it used to be.

Solas: And you have no concept of what that difference cost you.

Varric: I know what it didn't cost me. I'm still here, even after all those thaigs fell.

---

Solas: You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could've been, never fighting back.

Varric: Ha, you've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.

Solas: How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?

Varric: In that story of yours—-the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone. You thought he gave up, right?

Solas: Yes.

Varric: But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone.

Varric: That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes. And it's gone forever.

Varric: The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.

Solas: Well said. Perhaps I was mistaken

This entire banter line is about Varric and Solas.

On solas part it's about his very well spoken and articulated racist opinions on the modern dwarves compared to those who came before and trying to rack his brian around them not going to the lengths he himself would have gone to save their race.

Also the fact they are no longer part of the Titan hivemind. He's really stuck on that for reasons we don't really fully understand.

However, far, far more importantly this is about Varric's entire storyline in DAI.

Varric talks about Orzammar, about the loss of the deep roads, and yet they are all still there, still fighting, still marching on, rather than laying down and dying.

That is the true strength of the Dwarven race.

The ability to keep going even after losing everything. The original dwarves lost the titans and their magic. They marched on.

The dwarven empire lost the deep roads, and all but two thaigs. They marched on.

The surface dwarves lost their caste the last remains of their magic, and their status in dwarven society. They marched on.

Varric lost kirkwall. He lost his entire friend group that was the people who he loved more than any other group of people he has ever know. He lost his home that he grew up in and loved. He lost his parents and he lost Barthrand, the only remaining family he had, and who despite it all deeply, deeply loved. He lost Bianca, a teenage infatuation he never was able to get over.

And he lost Hawke. Either to Anders kickstsrting the war, or to the fade.

He lost everything he loved.

And yet He. Marched. On.

Varric's story in DAI is an understated one, one that isn't really given story focus, but unlike all the rest of the attempts at telling a more subtle story with the companions, this one actually worked.

Varric's story, is about his march onwards.

He lost everything due to Anders actions, and yet here he is. Marching forward through life. He hasn't laid down and died. He's still here. He's still fighting.

He still has hope.

And so he marches on through the twilight of his life, and keeps going, even if he loses Hawke forever... He keeps going, and he makes it through his depression, and grief to make a new life for himself in Kirkwall.

A new Kirkwall, but Kirkwall nonetheless.

Solas: That crossbow is remarkable, Varric. I am surprised the dwarves have not made more of them.

Varric: The woman who made Bianca would rather that not happen. Wars are bloody enough as it is.

Varric: A crossbow that fires this far and this quickly with so little training? Every battle would be a massacre.

Solas: Indeed. I am surprised, not disappointed.

Here we get a lot of insight into Varric... But also a moment of great moral ambiguity.

Everything Varric says here is true... But it would also mean his people finally, finally being able to destroy the darkspawn for good and all. Such a tech advantage would allow them to wipe the blighted Creatures from existence with ease.

Varric is more than brilliant enough to understand this... But he chooses not to think about it, or wheter it's a good course of actions, because he is shackled to Bianca even now, even still.

Bianca wants this crossbow not to be on the market, so he doesn't put it on the market, regardless of good or bad.

Varric: Hey Chuckles, do you ever play Wicked Grace?

Solas: I'm not much of a gambler anymore.

Varric: You don't have to play for real coin, that's just for keeping score.

Solas: What do you play for?

Varric: Conversation mostly. That way I win no matter how the cards fall.

This is a followup to Varric's original introductionary short story from way back in the day.

From that one we learn that Varric doesn't actually drink anything served at the Hanged man, he just orders a wine glass or beer mug, because he knows people get nervous if you don't drink in a bar, so he crafts an illusion to aid him in his rogue life.

Vivienne

So like a number of these I'm not gonna cover them in full, as while good, and well written, and paints a very clear picture of Vivienne, they're not exactly deep character pieces for Varrix... But I do wanna cover a few.

Vivienne: Am I to understand, Varric, that you knew the apostate who destroyed Kirkwall's chantry?

Varric: Unfortunately, yes.

Vivienne: What could he possibly have hoped to accomplish with such madness?

Varric: Exactly what he got: a whole lot of innocent people killing each other.

Vivienne: I take it he's no longer on your Wintersend gift list.

Varric: Depends. Does a flaming sack of bronto dung count as a gift?

Vivienne: Only if you tie it with a silk ribbon, my dear.

More Varric hating Anders, and laying all the blame of the Mage Templar Wars and ruining his life on him.

Vivienne: Tell me, Varric, who is the protagonist of this serial?

Varric: You know, we're so far into spoiler territory right now, I think I better stop talking.

Vivienne: Come now, darling. You can tell me.

Varric: Not on your life, Iron Lady. The best way to ensure a book's nevered finish is to tell someone your entire plot.

More Varric showcasing he cannot stand spoilers coming out, and it destroys his entire ability to write.

Vivienne: You know, Varric darling, I read your Hard in Hightown.

Varric: You did? Seriously?

Vivienne: Most of the Imperial Court did. It was in fashion a few winters ago.

Varric: Just how much gold is my publisher stealing from me?

One detail i really like about Varric, is that he tries to create this image of himself as always bring in control and all that... And then he has moments like this where his regular ass publisher swindles him for a shit ton of money.

Vivienne: How many chapters will this book be, Varric dear?

Varric: Well, the first one will come out in twelve chapters.

Vivienne: The first one?

Varric: I've read enough Orlesian fictions to know you never tell a story there in fewer than three complete books. They think you're just warming up after one.

Vivienne: And what happens to the scheming duchess in the first book?

Varric: Are you asking for spoilers, Madame De Fer?

Vivienne: Hints, darling. Not spoilers.

More Varric showcasing he understands other cultures and how they write stories.

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age 2 #varric tethras #hawke #solas #cole #the iron bull #cassandra pentaghast #dorian #vivienne de fer #blackwall #thom rainier #sera #the inquisitor #the herald of andraste #meta #banter

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