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talesofesther · 8 months

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when the world sleeps | the lasting sun

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Small tales of private and precious moments shared with Astarion, when the world still sleeps.

Today's tale: Deep into the Underdark, Astarion misses the sun.

A/N: A collection of little stories that will be released sporadically, in no particular order. A place for me to store all the sweet little ideas that lurk in my mind about this darling pale elf. Feel free to send requests for any moments you'd like to see. <3

Masterlist

It was dark, that much was a given. No traces of sunlight dreamed of reaching this far down; a whole world, buried in the depths of Faerûn. And yet, as you walked among the bioluminescent flora, it felt as if magic itself had taken a living form.

You'd heard much of the Underdark, but being in it could never compare to the stories. Mushrooms and plants twice your size glowed softly and colorful, illuminating your path with a warmth you'd never have dreamed of finding down here.

For you, ever the curious and adventurous soul, there was much beauty in the endless night. For others, not so much.

You set up camp in a nice little nook of land; surrounded by gentle giant mushrooms and coated with a few patches of deep green grass. Peculiar bugs danced around the natural lights hanging from the thick roots above you, and purple crystals reflected your form as you wandered.

The place overlooked a rather dark abyss, however; and that's where you found Astarion.

Most of your friends had already turned in, no one quite sure if it was day or night, only knowing they were tired enough. You half expected Astarion to be resting as well. You had had a rather hectic past few hours, after all.

Yet he remained very much awake, sitting on the border of a cliff, his feet hanging by the edge, and beside one of the brightest pieces of flora here—as bright as they got at least, which wasn't further from a gentle glow.

There was a weight on his shoulders, you could tell. A little tense and a little on edge. Not unusual given your perils, yet this… seemed different.

You approached slowly, in case his mind wasn't fully with him, so you wouldn't startle him.

Astarion picked up on your presence easily enough. He always did. He always knew it was you, too. How, you couldn't tell; but his ears twitched the slightest bit as he heard your footsteps, yet he didn't turn around. You took that as your permission to stay.

You sat down beside him, leaving a small gap between your bodies. And for a long moment, you stayed silent, absentmindedly staring at the dark fog before you; watching as it wrapped itself around the sharp rocks and cliffs.

Only once you heard a shaky sigh coming from beside you, and the sound of Astarion's hands brushing over his pants, did you turn to look at him. There was yet to be a place where he looked anything less than ethereal, you thought. The warm glow of the mushrooms kissed his cheeks and pale hair, blossoming a faint pink blush just under his eyes that got you quite enraptured.

But it didn't have you missing the persistent furrow of his brows, the tightness of his lips pressed together. "Does something trouble you?" Your worry escaped you, quietly so.

A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, and you knew you were right. "Oh no, I've always dreamed of venturing into unknown lands deep underground," Astarion quipped, yet his voice wasn't as carefree as it usually was. "Quite the experience."

He gulped with a grimace, as if trying to hold something back and failing miserably. He still refused to meet your eyes too.

"But…?" It was nothing but a breath, giving him an out if he didn't wish to answer.

The elf hesitated, tilting his head your way with a small smile that didn't meet his eyes. "I… miss the sun." His voice was as quiet as you'd ever heard it, as small. Almost as if he was afraid you'd mock him for it.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest, your throat closing up. Such a simple thing for you, the sun. And for him, it was such a recent privilege. Of course he'd miss it dearly.

For a moment you didn't know what to say, what promises you could make in this life of uncertainty that you've been leading together ever since the nautiloid's crash. "We'll be out of here soon, I promise." You bumped his shoulder with yours, wanting to be closer yet trying not to cross any boundaries.

"Please, don't fret because of me, love." Astarion shrugged halfheartedly, "I am well used to the dark, after all." His lips held that easy smile but his voice was doleful.

There was a beat of silence, and an idea sparked in your mind. You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if, somehow, it would be crossing a line—too tender of a gesture.

Yet to get back that glint in his eyes that only the sun could bring, you extended your hand anyway. With a flick of your wrist, small particles of golden magic started slowly swirling in the air; they formed from your fingertips and danced in front of you like a mirage.

Astarion held onto his breath, you could hear the catch of it in the silence of the night. His eyes perked up and focused solely on the fiery golden wisps coming together atop your palm.

It was a simple spell, one you knew by heart. Memorized ever since you were a child afraid of the night's darkness. You'd fill your bedroom with the bright particles, tearing through the weave and nearly setting your furniture on fire.

Now, in the depths of the Underdark, you held the glowing orb between both your hands with ease—raw magic swirling in between your fingers and shining aureate against your eyes—until it grew just big enough and you released as if it were a butterfly. It flew above you, yet never strayed far, chasing away the darkness and replacing it with a warm, ever-lasting glow.

Turning slowly to the vampire beside you, you observed as he followed the glow; red eyes taking on a fiery glint, sharp features being caressed by your own piece of personal sunlight. You thought you saw his lower lip wobble, but it must have been a trick of the light.

"It's not the sun, but…" The words tangled in your tongue, "I hope it brings you some semblance of comfort for now."

For a long moment, Astarion simply looked at the magical sphere of flames, briefly reminding you of when you'd woken up from your first night together. Oh, you'd capture the sun only to give it to him, if you could. In moments like there, when his eyes are big and vulnerable, when his lips are softly parted in wonder without him realizing; you see him as the innocent soul he'd once been all those years ago—before the horror, before the torture. And when he finally turned to meet your eyes, you were now the one incapable of holding the gaze.

Astarion shuffled closer, personal space forgotten when his thigh and shoulder came flush with yours. He reached out one hand, albeit a little hesitant, finding your own that rested on your lap. His pinkie intertwined with yours, all shy and gentle; so utterly new for him yet somehow it felt like the most real you've ever witnessed of him.

Nimble fingers got hold of your chin, and before you knew it, Astarion's lips were upon yours. It was as if his kisses spoke all the words he was still incapable of saying out loud.

"Who needs the sun," He whispered, upper lip brushing yours, you felt more than heard it; "When I have you, my darling."

Oh, the honeyed words. True or not, they'd always reach home inside your heart. Yet tonight, there was a strange sincerity dripping from each syllable.

And come to think of it, you've seen that same sunlight glint in his eyes during the night too. Every single night he has spent with you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion imagine #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #astarion fanfic #my story #astarion ancunin #when the world sleeps

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anantaru · 2 years

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SNEAKY DEVIL

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — being with your ex on a friday night surely was the last thing you had in mind.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 2.1k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, play toxic by britney spears, ex! boyfriend kuni, slight yan ?? a sprinkle, he‘s not accepting the break up, this is the part two of my kuni angst fic — ꒰ part one ꒱

"would you look at yourself."

for each aspect, when there was good, there was also evil.

yet in his taunting eyes, it seemed as if there was only darkness, no light or anything that would hint at the fact that scaramouche might be a good person after all.

and as for you?

the embarrassment you had felt each time you let him stumble back into your life was burning through the entirety of your skin, greedily gnawing itself onto your heart from within.

before anything, how did it come to this point in your life again?

the reason .. well, you couldn‘t explain it yourself, even if you tried.

if you haven‘t figured it out yet as on to why you keep coming back, keep opening the door for him and letting him stay, knowing full on well it‘ll only end in the same gruesome, disgusting outcome again— it's safe to say you won't ever have an answer to your questions.

not all stars shine equally bright, and you knew, that kuni in particular was never going to give you a glowing future.

"s-shut up."

a myriad of moans and low whines filled the space in between your bodies as you barked back at his usual belittling tone— that he‘d always gather around when he was especially fed up with you.

"if only your past self could see you right now." to the corners of his mouth, a smirk cradled his lips, one that was menacing and proud of himself, proud to get the person he so called loved, in such a humiliating position.

he‘s lowering his head down while roughly burying his stiff cock further into your pussy until fully sheathed, your lips ghosting over one another, "to even have the nerve to break up with me in the first place."

his face adorned with an unflinching, serious expression, suddenly groaning as you involuntarly clenched down on him, "and now you‘re letting yourself get fucked like a bitch in heat." he pauses subsequently to messily brush away the single tear that lonely spilled down your warm cheek.

"fucked by me." his ferocious, melodic voice was vibrating into the depths of your skin, anchoring your soul.

"it‘s not like that!" you panic, each of his words were sharply cutting through your heart and feelings.

with the world falling down on your shoulders, into place, who were you trying to persuade with this?

scaramouche or simply yourself?

he wiped his hair strands— which were sticking onto his forehead, back, his skin, being illuminated much paler by the faint glow of the night, enhancing and further amplifying his damned beauty— that would always keep on mesmerizing you.

"then tell me how it is, hm?" each of his arms were carefully placed next to your head, trapping you with his body. Yet however, if you didn‘t know any better, he would‘ve given the impression that he actually cared, with the way his voice slightly softened.

pseudo innocently, scaramouche had began to observe your face, as if to wait for an actual response from you.

in retrospect, it was now clear that the whole, bloody situation you found yourself in, together with this— so called relationship, was far too complicated for your own good, anyones good, that is.

you didn‘t respond to him, a little nervous, when you averted your eyes. In fact, you weren‘t quite fond of the idea to voice anything at all.

your panicked thoughts held a significant clasp on you— sceaming internally. And although you felt slight menacing terror in his voice, with a sharp cutting panic in your throat— said attributes weren't even the worst parts of the current state of your affairs.

because in reality, you somehow enjoyed this. Not the considerable amount of pain he‘d inflict on you through words, but the familiar, once loved, tenderness of him.

you‘d lie to yourself if you‘d say you didn‘t miss him at least once or twice, sometimes even fantasizing back at the times you were intimate with each other, both stroking and pleasuring your bodies throughout the whole night until the morning sun approached you through the windows, rattling your skins awake.

you do not speak, unable to do so. Scaramouche intentionally fucked himself so far up your sore cunt that you could barely hold onto the bedsheets yourself, your drenched and swollen pussy violently gushing around his girth, his eyes beaming with self satisfied pride.

"thought so." he says nonchalantly, as if trying to prove his point.

your hands fell to your sides, just the precise thrusts of him, the targeting of your surging spots insides, caused you tumble over your own moans, mewling when he claimed you, all of you.

scaramouche switched to a tight, heavy grip, rapidly shoving his stiff heavy member past your aching hole, a feral pace, back and forth, his cock head kissing the deepest ends of your sensitivity.

you can feel his hand roam through your hips, caress your shaking body and slide over your natural curves. Your erected nipples repeatedly rubbed over his hard chest, gratifying the painful ache in your breasts.

scaramouche was quick to collect one in his palm, roughly mashing the mound of flesh in combination with the relentless push of his hips, the muscles in your core quivering.

"f-fuck, you don't even want to now how much i missed that." he shamelessly admitted, "how much i dreamed about fucking you again." mumbling the affirmations straight against your pouted lips and expanding a heavy pant once your mushy cunt forcibly squeezed down on him, dashingly gyrating around his imposing girth.

it was clear as day that he'd never get fully satisfied or satiated by fucking you anymore, the time apart you had spent were a torturous living hell to scaramouche, like a racking broken record that couldn't be fixed, playing a boring, lifeless song, over and over again.

however, you weren't going to give him what he wants, never, hopelessly trembling over your own words as you spoke.

"just, f-fuck— just shut up and fuck me." that's all it took you to bring him spiraling, a little faster as he suddenly mercilessly jolted into you with the obscene squelching noises leaving nothing left to the imagination.

for a second he observed the spot in between your in sweat soiled bodies, how disgustingly wet and filthy, a complete mess, he thought to himself. You were so exposed, bare and open for him, unrestrainedly dirtying his entire length with your slick, sloppily milking his drumming cock.

"i-if that's how you want to play this game." he promptly pauses, driving his erection impossibly deep into your squelching mess and grinding down, wiggling his hips the moment he was fully settled which caused you to mewl out achingly, moaning at every new hit.

your chest rattled with a shaky breath, the control of your body slowly but surely fading away into the pits of hell, shoving down the last remnants of self control you had stored in you.

"that's right." scaramouche coos upon seeing you struggle, cupping your cheeks and gently brushing his rough thumb over your slightly pouted lips, his loins on fire as he caught a glimpse of a single tear desperately hanging on your lashes, spilling at last. "i'm the only one who can make you feel this way."

you were trying to speak, anything, just something but he shushes you, soothes you and carries on to grind down, his facial expression almost reminding of a mocking tone, breathlessly smacking through your clenching hole that was brutally clasping around his girth.

"you're cruel." you managed to whisper, "you're so cruel." a sad heave in your voice.

those words reverberated along his bones and in his blood, forcing a numerous amount of groans through his gnawed teeth, moaning with every swallow of you.

the delicious pleasure rushed through your blood and grew the fire in your cheeks. Scaramouche lowered his head to starvingly seek your mouth, roughly plastering his hungry lips on top of yours to sloppily kiss you.

you're clinging onto him as you returned his plea, teeth colliding against each other when he drew himself away, "i'm cruel because i love you." the entry of it all rendered you speechless, your tears now fully dripping down the corners of your eyes, pouring down your skin.

reality is brought into sharp focus when you perceived the deeply intertwined bubble in your belly and how it was about to pop soon. With the curve of his lengthy cock, thickly hanging inside of you, scaramouche had an easy task to hit every so little swollen spot in within your velvety walls, eagerly rubbing them.

he's jerking himself slower and tantalizing, signalizing that he too, was close to his euphoric release. The scrutiny of pleasure was intoxicating and thick, your mouth gaping open but nothing came out, words without sounds, silent cries of your orgasm chasing your body.

you're screaming and convulsing on his cock, guzzling him dry with your sweet pussy— that he felt so squishy and soft inside of, it almost brought him to tears.

he's pulling you close, further, greedy for friction and release, scaramouche clasped onto you tighter with every new force of his hips, declaring your entire being as his, the power of his authority agonizingly searing.

the underlying sick bliss of his member filling you, his hand rubbing your erected nipple while you were fully emerged in suckling on his tongue, working around his wet muscle and tasting his saliva, a desperate ache pulsing in between.

you tipped your head back and let him hold you, in tandem, thrumming his hips into the right places in your insides. You sensed it, felt it, how he twitched in you and was about to unload his cum, your thighs already shining with wetness.

each pulse and tingle of his cock, unlocked a spasming sensation in your core, limbs tangling and hopelessly hanging onto each other as you collapsed, the smell of sex hurtling in the air of the thick room and amplifying your strong, tremendous release.

"f-fuck, fuck!" you're blurting out through impenetrable panting, moaning with your back rounded up to meet his relentless pace, your toes curling inwards as your entire body shuddered in both vibrations and the feeling of letting go, shaking at the overstimulation with the repeating press of his cock on your heat never giving you rest.

at the constant gushing and clenching of your tight cunt, scaramouche threw his head back and tore a current of groans off his throat, "archons-" he's whining out, the sounds breaking in the middle, "you always— always feel so incredible, fuck."

he's speeding up, muttering in your neck as he fully blew his load in you, your legs secured around his waist as he proceeded to greedily pump his warm seed in the deepest ends of your slicked up cunt, shivering with the overcoming stir.

his drunkened gaze caught his mess, his white ribbons smearing over the aching flesh of your drained walls as the thick globules of his cum began to gush out of your hole, drenching the damp sheets under you.

"say you love me." he's whispering of a sudden, his musky scent collapsing over you, "say it."

your body closely pounded to his to hide your face in his shoulder but scaramouche was eager to gather you in his palms, still able to perceive the wet, tired clench of your muscles on his half erected cock.

he's slumping on you, minutes passing with none of you building up enough strength to back away, "p-please." scaramouche kissed the corners of your lips, he was begging you, waiting and swallowing your name in between whimpers.

"i love you, i do." you hummed weakly with your response, without knowing if you really meant it. Maybe it was the pressure you felt, or the way he looked at you through his puppy eyes, or simply the fact that you were utterly tired of going against him constantly, whenever you both found each other again.

he seemed trapped in a daze with his eyes sparkling upon hearing you, so far off and unable to move, not that he wanted to.

this situation afterwards felt like torture, unanswered questions, the tangible ways of it both hurtful but entrancing. He's tucking you to his lips to flood his tongue into your mouth, as if he didn't want this situation to end.

not only because he felt relaxed with you, pleased by your presence and comfortable on top of you, no, it was also because scaramouche couldn't articulate himself very well.

he wasn't looking forward to another fight, one that would always break out the moment you had finished being intimate, had finishing loving you and came back crushing down to the thing everyone knew as the so called reality.

you weren‘t possibly able to run away from the consequences, the truth, and he wasn‘t either, because believe him when he says, scaramouche had tried to run away from his fate, so many times, that he cannot even remember all of it.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #scaramouche x you #genshin impact yandere #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact kunikuzushi #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche smut #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin impact images #genshin impact

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angel-of-the-moons · 5 months

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A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Graphic depictions of child abuse, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, defenselessness

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, this is something that just popped into my head while languishing in my bathtub the other night. Happy birthday to me by giving y'all this lil gift lmao

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @lillycore555 @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 12:

Helplessness

Today was so boring... You had customers come in, order the usual snacks, get some books, and leave. You had one couple in particular that grinded your gears just a bit out of bitterness.

They were just married--soulmates--and were still in the "touching all the time" phase of their relationship. You felt a lurch in your chest each time they shared a kiss, giggled to one another, and shared little inside jokes.

You had been feeling lonely. All. Day. Long.

Even Jake hadn't come to visit you. He said Steven and Marc were still out of the country at the moment, on a trip of some sort. Good for them, you thought. They seemed like they needed it.

But... something kept... tugging at you. Pulling you away from your daily routine, distracting you. It felt like a stone being dropped in a pond; sinking down and settling in the silt at the bottom.

Seeing that couple had put you in a bad mood. Not angry, but... hell. You'd be surprised if you weren't glowing a nice bright green after their public displays of affection.

You flopped down onto your bed, Puck leaping up with a purr to lick at your cheek.

You chuckled softly, rolling onto your side to scratch her round little cheek affectionately, "This is the longest you've stuck it out inside here, Puck. Finally gettin' tired of being outside all the time? Ready to settle down? Be my bookshop kitty?"

Puck responded with a slow blink, and a long yawn, her pink tongue poking out at you a bit.

You giggled, your chest feeling just a bit lighter at how cute she was.

"Yeah. You're right." You say to her. "Let's go to bed. I can take a shower in the morning."

Puck mewed, moving around to sit atop your end table as you got ready for bed, slipping on your comfiest shorts and sleep shirt before going to brush your teeth for the night.

Her little green eyes tracked your every move, blinking once, twice, her ear flicking slightly as she hears you heave another heavy sigh before face-planting into your pillows, hugging one close to you.

Puck purred loudly, snuggling up against your side and tucking her paws beneath her.

She only closed her eyes once she felt you relax, content as your hand idly reached out and stroked her fur as you eventually slipped into the land of dreams.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You stumbled on your feet as they hit the cold, damp asphalt, the soft droplets as the rain misted down on you felt... strange. Not London.... Not Maine.

You whip your head up and around, looking down at your body. You still wore the pajamas you'd selected for the night, nothing else.

Your body shivered and your teeth began to chatter as you looked around for someone--anyone--to ask for help, to find out where you were and how the hell you were suddenly dropped there.

The brownstones and townhouses around you were all shut tight, the street entirely devoid of cars and people. To you, it felt like it was the afternoon. The world was illuminated in cloudy gloom that told you it was daytime...

Your eyes flicked to your right, spotting one singular home, the windows glowing with a warm light, the silhouettes of people within calling you towards the front steps.

Your feet felt like ice; your toes ready to fall off as you make the short climb, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt at warmth.

You raise one hand and use the knocker three times.

"H-hello? I'm sorry to b-bother you, but um.... I'm afraid I.... I don't know where I am. Is there a phone I can borrow?" You call out as the wind whips around you, the misty rain begins to get heavier, turning into sleet; a chill settling deep into your very core.

Upon receiving no response, you raised your voice: "Hello? Is anybody there?"

It was crazy. You saw people through the window, you could see somebody was home. The lights were on, you could hear muffled words and shuffling feet--

CRASH!

You jumped slightly, eyes widening in a bit of fear and shock as you heard a very angry voice from within; accusatory and full of venom; followed by the rapid thumping of more footsteps.

Your teeth chattered and you looked around.

Nobody else was on the street or looking down on you... it was freezing. Somebody could be hurt...

You swallowed the paranoid lump in your throat as you turn the knob and let yourself in.

"H.... Hello?"

The warmth was heavenly on your icy cold skin as you slipped inside, the last of your chills slipping away as you took in the surroundings.

The home was cosy, sweetly and primly decorated. As you made it past the entryway and circle of plush sitting chairs, you discover what looked to be the dining room.

A photo frame sat atop the dining table, a tipped over bourbon glass trickling down onto the hardwood floors.

Your fingers stiffly reached out to grab the frame and look at it. It was a photo of what looked to be two young boys--possibly brothers. But you couldn't really tell because the bigger one had his face violently scratched away, leaving the younger one beaming happily at the camera, the bigger child's arm wrapped tightly around him.

You pursed your lips and felt a stab in your heart as you set the photo down. Who would do such a thing to a picture of a child? Was it some kind of coping skill? You'd heard of some people removing things that remind them of those they lost, but this...

You suck in a sharp breath of air and walk to the threshold, moving towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

At the bottom of the steps was a bottle of bourbon, shattered on the wall and laying in pieces on the floor, the sickly sweet liquor dripping down the wall and pooling around the glass shards.

Amid the debris was the remnants of a vase, the wilted flowers laying sadly in the sticky drink and shards of brown glass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard another slam, followed by loud banging and the rattling of a door.

A shrill voice cut above it all as you took the first step:

"Let me in you worthless little brat!"

Your heart stopped briefly at the sheer hatred in her voice, the sound of her fist pounding on wood.

You tried to race up the flight of stairs, but every step felt like you were walking in wet cement; sinking deeper like quicksand as you heard whatever door she was pounding on finally open.

"There you are."

"No, no, no..." You grunt, pulling yourself up from of the stairs that may have been wood when you first touched them... but now they were sucking you down like the whirlpool in a drain.

The wooden banister was your greatest ally in your trek, sweat beading from your brow and your lungs burning as you hauled yourself up; step by step.

When you finally reached the summit of the stairs, you chanced a brief look down.

There were only maybe sixteen steps, maybe a couple more. Why did it feel like six hundred?

You heard her grunt, the sound of leather cracking over something.

"You're making me do this! You know that!"

You stumbled to your feet and frantically raced down the hall and to the room the sounds were coming from. You gripped the knob and leaned in.

Beneath the sounds of leather, her angry words, was the soft sniffling of a child. A child trying so desperately to stay quiet for fear of making the abuse worse.

"Stop!" You cried, the knob stiff in your hands.

You jiggle it, pound on the door like she had moments ago.

"Stop it! I can hear you!" You shouted, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as tears burned your vision. "Why are you doing this!"

"All you have to do is listen, and you can't even do that!" The woman spat like you weren't even there, "Just look at what you did! You worthless little bastard!"

"Mom, please--"

The young voice was cut short by a loud shriek, followed by a groan and a sob. More shuffling. You threw yourself against the door, wanting so desperately to break past that final barrier, to maybe try and save the poor boy you knew now was being abused.

The door opened and you stumbled forwards, falling to your hands and feet hard on the floor.

The typical trappings of a young boy, Star Wars, NASA, Indiana Jones, and even a poster of another movie you couldn't quite recognize, but some part of you recalled.

You didn't have time to take in the rest of them, your eyes immediately zeroed in on the woman standing above the boy who was curled in on himself, his mop of dark strands hanging over his face as he cried, his nose running down his chin; lip busted and bleeding.

His arm he cradled so gingerly against his chest had burns. Fresh red, bleeding welts.

His mother, you surmised, stood over him, cigarette in one hand and the belt hanging at her side in the other as she looked down at him, her drunken, hate-filled gaze unmoved by her child's soft pleading.

He hiccuped, his body wracked with the sobs he so desperately tried to keep inside. "Mom, please.... I... I didn't mean it. I tripped--"

"No, you were being stupid again." She said, slipping the cigarette between her teeth and raising her arm to strike.

"Like you always are. Like you were with my Ro-Ro."

"I didn't mean it!" The boy cried defiantly, finally looking up at his mother, his gorgeous amber eyes glassy and wet as more fat tears curled over his eyelashes. "I didn't know that would happen to--"

He was interrupted by the belt cracking over his cheek, instantly turning it a deep, angry shade of red, a small cut welling up with droplets of blood.

He stayed quiet, curling once more into himself as she prepared for another blow.

"Shut the fuck up! All you ever do is talk, you don't fucking stop! I'm sick of it!" She howled, landing blow after blow on his back, the cigarette dropping to the floor, singing a shallow hole into the wood.

"Talking is what gets you in trouble!"

"Stop!" You sobbed desperately, finally finding the strength within you to stand, rushing forward to try and tackle the woman, to get her off of her son. His eyes caught yours briefly, and you felt a protective urge well up in your chest in your bid to help the poor boy.

Your eyes burned badly, almost feeling that child's pain as if it were your own. He was bleeding... You could have sworn you had reached for her, but...

You slipped right through her like she wasn't even there.

You pushed yourself to your knees, staring at your hands in shock, looking back up at her as she slapped the thick belt across his back again, earning a weakened shudder from the young boy.

His eyes stared at you openly, dumbly, silently pleading for help, his bloody lip wobbling as more tears tracked down his cheeks, one of his eyes already beginning to swell from the cut and welt the belt left in his face.

You looked up at her and gritted your teeth, reaching up to try and grab the belt, but once again to no avail; you slipped through her like you were a ghost. Some... specter cursed to watch this torture unfold but never stop.

"Fuck!" You cursed, a sob creeping up from your chest as you crawled over the poor boy.

Unlike his mother, you could actually touch him. You could feel his wracked sobs, the trembling he tried to hide.

You laid your body over his, crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

The belt slipped right through you, unleashing more pain.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Marc didn't know he was screaming until Layla had rushed up to him, her big beautiful eyes wide and frantic, her hair only half-tucked into her silk bonnet as she reached out for him.

"Marc--"

Her voice became strangled as his fist lunged, wrapping around her slender throat as he tackled her to the ground, his mind and heart pounding with adrenaline and fear; tears dripping down and falling onto her cheeks as his eyes glowed an unearthly white.

Only when he looked up at his reflection, the linen and magical garb beginning to enshroud his body, did he see it all.

His own wide, fearful eyes staring back at him through the full body mirror across from the bed. Layla pinned beneath him.

"Marc!"

Layla kicked her feet out, her hands trying to pry his from around her neck.

Marc scrambled back and away, hyperventilating, until his head collided with the bookshelf behind him, rocking it back so a few of the books Steven so loved clattered to the floor.

Marc curled into a ball, his fists tight as he ducked his head beneath his arms, rocking on his heels.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" He repeated over, and over, and over...

Layla coughed slightly as she gasped for air, hauling herself to her feet to rush and collapse next to Marc, touching his back gently.

"Marc, it's okay!" She tried desperately. "You were dreaming! Just breathe, you need to--"

Marc just shook his head, his mind frantically tripping over itself in an effort to see past his panicked haze.

Where was Jake? Why wasn't Jake here? Why didn't Jake save him from this like he normally did?

Why did Jake let him almost--

Layla wrapped her arms around his shoulders softly, rocking with him, "It's okay... It's okay... She can't hurt you anymore." She murmured, touching her head to his.

"Just breathe."

Marc sniffled, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as a broken sob came from him.

"I didn't mean it." He whispered, his voice stuttering with emotion.

"Marc..." Layla said, her brows pinching tightly together as she felt her heart break for him.

This had happened before, many times. He would have flashbacks in his sleep, thinking he was back to being a child under the domineering and abusive hand of his mother, suffering horrible pain because of the inaction of his father because of their grief over his dead baby brother.

But... something about this time was different. Strange.

Jake was the one who went to sleep, last night. Jake was the one she traded pot-shot jokes with about his "friendly dates" with you...

When did Marc come to the forefront?

When he finally calmed down enough to speak, his hand reached out to brush her neck, fresh bruises already blossoming on her olive skin. "I did this."

His voice was so... broken. Lost. In pain.

Gods, it killed her.

"It's okay. You were having a nightmare. It's normal to come out of them in a fight-or-flight response." Layla shushed gently, rubbing his back and tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear.

Marc shook his head, shoving himself away from her, to... to put some distance between them, to protect her from him, what else he might be capable of doing to her.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed, staring morosely at the floor, before furiously rubbing at his tears.

"This--this wasn't like last time, damn it!" He sniffed as Layla slowly sat next to him, her body movements calculated as though she were approaching an injured animal.

"It was different?"

"There--there was somebody else there this time." Marc replied, hanging his head into his hands.

"Somebody else?" She asked, her eyebrows rising sharply. "Who?"

"I... I don't know. It sounded like a woman but... But it was like her voice was underwater." He whispered.

Layla's heart skipped a beat, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"What did she look like?"

"I don't know." Marc said again, running a hand through his hair stressfully.

"I could see her, but I--couldn't. She was--she was like a blob of glowing light, but... but I know it was a woman!"

"Did she... say anything?"

He lifted his dark, haunted eyes to stare deeply into hers.

"I'm sorry."

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 13: Link

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knoght x you #layla el faouly #A Rose Under The Moon #soulmate au

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bonesofapoet · 2 years

Text

heart under the gun

[ simon 'ghost' riley x you ]

author's note : the one where you're stuck in a safehouse and you just fucking pine for each other. language

word count : 703

There was always something magical about the world, once dusk arrived.

Even when it seemed the entire universe had fallen sideways, and your life had been placed on pause - if only temporarily - there remained, under the battered, stained surface of your story, an unmistakable awe that lingered at the fraying edges; a kind of raw beauty impossible to miss.

Even if you weren’t searching for it, if you weren’t mindful of it staring right back at you point blank, so aggressively close to your face - it seeped in through the cracks. Always, lately, when it was the least expected, and, honestly? When it was most unwelcome.

This evening was a stunning example, really.

The sun had begun its fall into the night, dipping down behind wispy clouds and tree branches that reached tall and desperate, if only to feel the last kiss of the sun’s dying rays until dawn. Golden fingers fell through the canopies of their leaves scattered along the property, painting the ground in shadowed filigree patterns across tall, deep green grass.

Those wispy clouds had gone from feather gray and lily white to become beautifully stained with the palette of the sunset. Golds, deep oranges and radiant mauves were shining bright where the colors blended with the deepening violet of the sky above.

And yet, up is not where you were looking this time.

He was illuminated in the glow of stray sunbeams, rocking gently on the porch swing hidden around an alcove on the front porch - a charming detail that set this particular safehouse apart from the rest - in time with the gentle breeze. It ruffled the pages of the book held open in one hand - gloved, always - while the other remained draped across the back, next to him.

It had jarred you, the first few days the two of you had been here, just how peaceful someone could look when removed from the harshness of the field. The contrast of something so simple as quiet. . .it was different here. Everything was. Now, though, you had come to learn that this was just Simon being Simon. He had shed the skin of Ghost, slowly, if not hesitantly, the longer you were holed up far away from any front line.

The mask, however, was not so quickly cast aside.

Regardless, that didn’t stop you from admiring how Simon looked in the sunlight instead of shadows.

“You gonna keep fuckin’ starin’ at me, or can I help y'with something?”

Fuck.

Your recovery was quick, if not a little rushed, when you realized his brown eyes had risen from the pages to narrow at you instead.

“Yeah, Riley, you can fuckin’ help me with something," you snort for good measure. “Take your fuckin’ tea before I burn the shit outta my hand, would ya?”

He sees through it, anyway.

“Give it ‘ere, then,” gloved fingers wiggle in your direction, the arm draped across the swing reaches toward you.

You step to fill the remaining gap, the sun’s tendrils of gold slipping over you as you do. Bright flashes blinded you through the trees as you held a steaming mug out towards Simon. Gloved fingers brushed gently, quickly, over your own.

While you were busy trying not to drop the mug or go blind - permanently, this time - Simon’s eyes hadn’t left you. The descending sun had gifted you with a halo, bright, bold, and oh, so divinely ethereal he had to focus on his breath, had to tighten his grip on the mug, the book, had to feel the solid wood of the weathered bench beneath him to stay grounded because -

Fuckin’ Christ, he couldn’t look away.

Simon Riley had never been a religious man, but seeing you all glowing golden radiance inspired him to fall to his knees and pray.

He didn’t know what the fuck he’d say, didn’t even know if you would answer whatever fell through his lips, but he knows he’s never seen you like this.

Relaxed. Peaceful. Makin’ him tea just how he liked it, for no fuckin’ reason. You’ve done that often enough in the past couple of weeks that he knew it wouldn’t be scalding, wouldn’t be burnt or too strong. None of that extra, frilly shit would be tainting it either.

That’s something he liked about you. How you paid attention to the people you cared about -

Simon freezes. Oh.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #i am feral for this man #kas writes

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mrsshabana · 11 months

Note

PLEASE QUEEN, I need answers, in your post talking about some wip's that you were thinking about, I saw "shark", I hope I'm not hallucinating, but please, can you tell me a little about it??🏃🏃🏃

Omg yes! I'm so happy you asked about this one! The shark au is something me and @lilliumteaandbeez came up with. We have a ton of lore we came up with together, though I don't have much written for it. I believe I wrote this in February, and it isn't much but I'll share what I have!

More about Sharktaro though, he is also a siren! So, for the people that have been asking me for a siren au, this is the start of it.*･♡

✧:･ﾟ→ My WIP's

𝑺𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏!𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Your motion sensored camera got activated last night.

That’s why you find yourself trudging through a light rain shower, stepping through heaps of wet sand and over slippery rocks.

The camera had been set up in an alcove seated on the beach. A small cave sits on the edge of the ocean, with a deep pool of water seated in the middle of it. But deeper into the cave, the water becomes more shallow, and there is a rocky ledge circling the edge of the water, perfect for you to set up your camera to observe the unusual alcove.

It was for research of course. As a marine biologist you are always searching for unique phenomena. With this particular experiment, you were hoping to catch seals using this alcove as a shelter when hiding from circling sharks. But instead you were notified in the middle of the night by a strange photo being captured.

You couldn’t quite make out what it was. It was blurry and dark. The creature looked long like a seal but it almost appeared as though it had sharp claws. Having no idea what it could be, you are filled with anxiety and curiosity as you arrive at the cave.

Sounds of distant thunder echo in the distance.

You turn the corner and step into the darkness. The approaching storm blocking any sunlight that may have illuminated your path.

Flickering on your flashlight, you point it towards the shallow end of the cave.

Before you lies a humanoid figure. Laying on its side, back facing towards you.

The bottom half of its body resembles a shark. A long blue-green tail littered with dark spots. The spots cover his entire body, even the upper half which resembles a human man. The creature has a large fin on its back and pointed ears. Its body looks emaciated, ribs moving with each shallow breath that he takes. And a mess of black and green hair sits atop his head.

The water surrounding his body is bloody, and his tail seems to have gotten tangled in a net.

“Oh my god…” you gasp under your breath. The small sound is enough to startle the creature, quickly turning around, staring right at you.

His eyes glow yellow, slit pupils dilate from the bright light. He opens his mouth to show rows of dagger sharp teeth.

A high pitched, rattling screech echos from his mouth. Hissing at you with every ounce of energy he has left, you know this is a warning. But you can’t stop yourself from walking closer to him, you want to help him. It’s in your nature to help and rehabilitate injured marine life, and a mythical merman is no exception.

As you get closer he starts to panic. Flailing his tail, showing his teeth, hissing loudly. He tries to get away but he is too tangled up. It doesn’t take long before more blood spills out of him, and he can’t muster enough energy to continue.

His eyes get heavy and his breathing becomes more shallow but his hissing persists as you stand a few feet in front of him.

“I-It’s ok,” you mutter, taking a few steps closer to him, “I’m going to try to help you.”

Throwing your backpack to the ground, you take a seat in front of him, rummaging through your bag to find any supplies that may be able to help this poor creature. You always make sure to come prepared, because out in the field accidents happen all of the time. So luckily you have an emergency medkit. It’s meant for humans but you are sure it will do the trick for the time being.

When you reach out to him he snaps at you, almost biting your arm.

“Hey! I’m trying to help you! I know you are scared, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

You can see the hurt and fear in his eyes when he looks at you. He has no idea that you are trying to help him. But the blood spilling from his wounds is too much and he loses the ability to care. He knows that he will die soon, so he stops fighting you.

The largest wound is on his tail, near his hip. It’s a deep laceration of some kind.

Cutting part of the net, to give you enough room to tend to his wound. You decide that stopping the bleeding is more important, and you will work on untangling him afterwards.

There is no time to waste so you hurry and disinfect the area and prep your needle. With trembling hands you begin to suture the large wound, resulting in a low, painful whimper coming from him.

“I know it hurts, but I have to do this or you will bleed out,” you console him but don’t stop stitching him up.

The skin on his tail is thick and tough, taking a lot of effort to get the needle to go through. But after lots of struggling, you manage to get the wound sutured. Taking some gauze and holding it to the wound to soak up some of the blood.

Scanning over the rest of his body, he has lots of smaller lacerations. They look like claw marks. But you can’t think of any sea creature that would have claws like that…

Once the bleeding mostly stops on the larger wound, you go to care for the other wounds. Disinfecting, covering with bandages, and suturing a few that are particularly deep. You run out of gauze pretty quickly, as he has many wounds and the moisture of his skin combined with the humidity in the air quickly dampens them.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #siren au #replies

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

Note

N, your last drabble!!! Dream falling in love with Hob’s domesticity, with the humanity he brings out in him!! Craving these brief moments between them where everything’s soft and mushy and quiet and crispy warm. Dream slowly noticing how lovingly Hob looks up at him. Dream drowning in his presence, drowning in Hob. Falling in love in the tranquility of one another.

I WILL cry…

I KNOW... i am already crying, cocoa, FOR REAL

have some domestic flirting <3333

It must be, Morpheus thinks, a particular quality of the light that streams in through Hob’s kitchen window, that it catches in his hair and brings out the little amber flecks in each strand just so. This is something Morpheus has never before had the opportunity to notice. The sources of illumination in the White Horse Tavern were too low to ever lend Hob such radiance, and those in the New Inn too electric. It must be a peculiar quality of Hob Gadling’s, that he is best suited to being lit up by the sun. The way it softens his edges and sets his skin to glowing nearly makes Morpheus envious of how unreservedly it bestows Hob with its favor. Hob is washing up the breakfast dishes in the sink—an activity so mundane and tedious and small that the Morpheus of six centuries ago would have scoffed at the very idea of finding it engrossing. How much time in their fleeting eyeblink of a life, thinks that vestige of Morpheus idly, do people spend simply soaping and rinsing and drying dishes? Yet today he sits at Hob’s little kitchen table and feels abjectly fascinated by every detail of the act. Hob Gadling, he supposes, has more time than most to spare for such follies. Hob does not own a dishwasher. The sleeves of his buttondown are pushed up to his elbows, and his arms are shiny-wet up to mid-forearm, and his hands disappear into a mountain of white suds as he scrubs at the inside of a frying pan with a green wiry sponge. The room smells bright and clean, the lemon zest scent of the dish liquid catching and holding Morpheus’ attention as much as the roll of Hob’s shoulders does when he turns to place the rinsed pan aside to drip dry. Morpheus remembers too late that humankind tends to dislike the sensation of being observed. But Hob only slants a crooked smile at him when he notes that he is watched; only says, “See something you like?” Instantly Hob’s eyes widen the barest fraction, and squeeze shut, and Morpheus spies the shadow that passes in the next moment over his face. It is the same sort of shadow, the same drawing inwards, that he has noted sometimes comes over Lucienne when she thinks she may have said something that will surely be ill-received. Morpheus cannot fathom what has troubled Hob now. He considers Hob’s question with care. What is before him? There is the ease with which Hob grins at him. The glinting sunshine that follows the soft fall of his hair out of the haphazard bun. The dark patches of denim where Hob has just wiped his dripping palms on his thighs. “Yes.” Morpheus answers simply, and knows it to be the truth. “I see... much that pleases me.” “Oh,” Hob says, his smile widening to show a flash of teeth. “Alright, then.” There is surprise in his voice, and pleasure, and... something else Morpheus does not decipher. He has not read the daydreams of Hob Gadling in many hundreds of years. He will not begin now. But a flush blooms across Hob’s cheeks then to accompany his words, the staining red of poppies, and Morpheus finds he enjoys this as well.

#the sandman #dreamling #hotcocoabuns #dreamling domestic vacation

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awkward-walking-potato · 11 days

Note

A request of hc or whatever you are up to for Gambit with a sunshine!reader?

Here comes the sun

The X-Mansion's garden was a vibrant display of colors, but it was nothing compared to the burst of light and energy that you, the sunshine!reader, brought to it. Your bright personality and unfiltered joy were like a constant beacon of warmth, a sharp contrast to Gambit’s usual smooth and mysterious demeanor.

On this particular day, Gambit had decided to channel his inner charm and enigma, hoping to impress you with his suave ways. He had meticulously planned out an afternoon in the garden, where he’d put his plan into action. He donned his most charming smile and approached you, who was busy tending to the blooming flowers, your own radiant aura making the surroundings seem even more cheerful.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Gambit said, his voice smooth and intentionally low. “Care for some company in this lovely garden of yours?”

You looked up from the flowers you were arranging, your face lighting up with a bright smile. “Oh, hey, Gambit! I’d love some company! Isn’t it a beautiful day? The flowers are so happy today, don’t you think?”

Gambit couldn’t help but chuckle at your infectious enthusiasm. He leaned against a nearby tree, trying to maintain his mysterious air. “Well, I was thinkin’ maybe I could add a bit of mystery to this cheerful scene. You know, stir things up a bit.”

You giggled, clearly not fazed by his attempts at being enigmatic. “Oh, Gambit, you’re always so cool and mysterious. But I think the garden’s already perfect just the way it is. And you know what? I bet we could have even more fun if we just enjoyed the day together.”

He watched as you twirled around, your energy seemingly making the flowers around you bloom even brighter. Gambit sighed, his carefully crafted mysterious persona melting away in the face of your overwhelming brightness.

“You know, sunshine,” he said, trying to regain some of his charm, “I’m not sure I can compete with all this light you’re throwin’ around. But I’ll do my best to keep up.”

You laughed, walking over to him with a playful glint in your eye. “You don’t have to compete with me, Gambit. You’re perfect just the way you are. Besides, your attempts at being mysterious are pretty cute.”

Gambit’s smile widened, a genuine warmth replacing his earlier coolness. He took your hand, his touch gentle and affectionate. “Well, if it’s ‘cute’ you want, then I suppose I’ll just have to embrace it. Maybe a bit of sunshine is just what this garden needs.”

You beamed at him, your heart swelling with affection. “See? That’s the spirit! Let’s make the most of today and have some fun. Who knows, maybe we’ll discover a new kind of mystery together!”

As you both wandered through the garden, chatting and laughing, Gambit found himself enjoying the day far more than he had anticipated. Your constant optimism and joy had a way of turning even his smooth and mysterious plans into something light-hearted and fun.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, Gambit realized that the real charm wasn’t in being mysterious, but in sharing moments of genuine happiness with you. Your light had a way of illuminating even his own darker corners, making the day one of the most memorable and joyful he’d had in a long time.

And as you both sat together, watching the sun dip below the horizon, Gambit couldn’t help but think that sometimes, being around someone as radiant as you was all he needed to make life’s mysteries a little less enigmatic and a lot more wonderful.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #remy lebeau imagine #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau #gambit one shot #gambit x reader #gambit imagine #x men 97

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celestial-toys · 17 days

Text

Observation Duty

“You said your eyes are everywhere, huh?”

Your question is met with silence.

Now, if you had been looking down at him instead of facing the ceiling, you’d have caught the brief image of your living room security cam footage as it flashed across the screen of his faceplate. You’d have seen the moment you tripped playing on a sped up loop over and over, your knee hitting the table’s corner, your body hitting the floor, laundry falling and dog food scattering just to rise back up unnaturally as the footage plays again in reverse.

You weren’t looking down though, you weren’t looking anywhere at all- and so you missed it completely, thinking nothing of his silence and continuing to talk to the ceiling.

“So… what, you just enjoy watching me do chores?”

- - -

Seeking distraction from the work weighing on your mind, you start a little play-argument with the tetchy automaton currently hogging your couch. It soon evolves into a verbal dance, skirting around some heavier topics that threaten to trip up the both of you as your conversation moves too quickly for this listless afternoon.

As usual, he takes all of your antics in stride. Well… mostly. Kinda.

Look- he’s trying, okay?

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader - GN!Reader

Word Count: 4,934

Contains: [AU - Real World] [argument] [feelings] [implied past trauma] [intimidation] [lack of communication] [minor injuries] [obsessive behavior] [sentient AI] [size difference] [surveillance] [tension] [touching (not sexual but the consent is still dubious)] [tsundere/yandere Sun] [unsettling]

A/Ns: Once again, the above CW's probably make it sound worse than it is, but I like to err on the side of caution.

This fic is part of my AU "[Not] Made by Design", the full series can be found here.

The light of the screen in front of you burns into your tired eyes. Your focus is waning, your mind preferring to wander instead to how badly you’re craving an afternoon coffee. Sighing, you push yourself away from your desk, leaning back into the chair as its wheels roll with the momentum. Bumping into the wall behind you with a soft thud, you slump in your seat, staring with unfocused eyes at nothing in particular.

A few deep breaths and a short-lived moment of empty-headed bliss later, you remove your glasses and rub your eyes with the knuckles of your curled fingers. Digging your heels into the floor and dragging your chair forward again, you place your glasses on the desk, and note the time. You’ve been in the office for several hours at this point, and if you stay much longer you’re willing to bet a certain Sun-themed bot will be beating down your door demanding that you take a break. So, after double-checking that your work is saved, you put your PC to sleep. Standing and reaching for the ceiling as you stretch, you grimace at the cracks from your back and shoulders.

Making your way out of the room and down the hall, you round a corner, entering the living room. The blackout shades are down, all lights off save for the soft yellow glow coming from a small lamp in the corner. The bright afternoon sun is peeking its way through the edges of the windows that the shades don’t quite cover.

Moon would likely complain about how “dark and sad” it looks if he were in here, but you don’t see him. You figure he might be in the kitchen, or outside charging, maybe. Regardless, if he isn’t here to bother Sun about his “depressing” lighting choices, you will in his stead.

The robot has situated himself across the length of your couch, which is quite a feat considering the thing is honestly just a glorified loveseat and even you can’t lay on it comfortably. For being as large as they are, their flexibility makes up for it, allowing Sun and Moon to be genuinely impressive in their ability to fit into relatively small spaces. You try not to mentally pat yourself on the back for the role you played in that ability.

This isn’t about you anymore.

The soft white glow coming from his screen is enough to illuminate the pages of the book in his hands, and from what you can see of it you think you recognize the cover as being the one you were telling them both about last night as you were falling asleep.

…Cute.

You smile, leaning against the wall as you speak up.

“Y’know, my parents used to always nag me about my bad habit of reading in the dark. It seems I’ve somehow passed that trait along to you.”

Sun hums, tone soft and dismissive, and doesn’t pull his gaze away from the book when he speaks.

“It’s not dark, the lamp’s on.”

One black silicone fingertip lifts the corner of the right page, gently pulling it across and splaying his hand out to flatten the book down again. You note how the width of his fingers span beyond both edges of the book. It almost looks too small in his hands, but then again… most things do.

“Besides, I can see just fine in the dark. The lamp is for you.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

There’s humor in your voice, speaking as you push up off the wall and make your way across the room towards him. “Yes, and I do appreciate you leaving me enough light to get around by.”

You cautiously perch behind him on the right arm of the couch, careful not to get your loose clothes caught on any of his protruding rays. You’re aware that in his eyes, you’re clumsy enough even with the lights on, let alone trying to navigate in the almost-dark. Given that, you aren’t sure if it’s truly his disdain for bright lights, or simply his desire to see you struggle that drives him to keep the areas he occupies dimly lit.

Looking down at the coffee table, a recent memory surfaces and you frown.

“Speaking of navigating in the dark… my knee still hurts from slamming it into the corner of the coffee table last week, you know?”

From your position behind him you can’t see how his display shifts from its soft, blank white, his digital approximation of facial features materializing only to shift into a grimace. You do hear the shift in his tone of voice, although you can’t quite name what it is. Exasperation? Or… concern?

“I know. I’m surprised it didn’t bruise.”

“Well, you know me, I have to take quite a hard hit for my skin to really show it.” You think for a moment, and add onto the statement, muttering mostly to yourself but his hearing catches it all the same. “Which has always been odd to me considering how easily my skin scars…”

He hums a little bit in acknowledgment, trying not to think too hard about your various scars and how you got them. “Well, from the sound you made when it happened I thought you’d really injured yourself.”

Your voice takes on a playful tone of offense. “I am injured! It hurt!” You reach down and gently press over the spot that hurts the most, unable to resist the urge to poke the non-existent bruise through the plush fabric of your lounge pants. You murmur to yourself as much as to Sun, “...and it’s still sore...”

His body releases air in semblance of a sigh, lowering the book to his lap. Still looking down at it while he speaks, his tone is a mixture of teasing and I-told-you-so. “While it may have been semi-dark in here when it happened- I’m not taking the blame for it. Things like that just happen when you run around doing three things at once.”

A small surprised laugh escapes you. “How do you know what I was doing, huh?” You reach out and carefully run a fingertip along the edge of his top ray. “You weren’t even in the room, silly.”

His rays twitch slightly but he doesn’t retract them much as his faceplate slowly tilts back, stopping at an impossible angle for any human and finally making eye contact with you, albeit upside-down. “My eyes are everywhere, doll.”

His tone is something you’d call playfully threatening and you hold his steady gaze for a long moment before eventually blinking and glancing away, conceding to a contest you could never win.

It’s cute when he tries to be scary.

A half-smile on your face, you dismiss his attempt to unsettle you. Halloween is next month. “Mhm. I’m sure they are.”

From your peripheral vision you watch his expression falter, his yellow eyes flickering to red just briefly before he speaks. “You were carrying a bowl filled with dog food in your left hand, fresh laundry from the dryer was hanging off both of your shoulders, and you were wiping down the coffee table with your favorite brown towel in your right hand. All at once. While cursing.”

You throw a confused look at him that he ignores in favor of continuing to reprimand your past actions. “You’re incapable of doing one thing at a time, aren’t you? Truly reckless behavior, you know. That’s how people get hurt.”

You let out a put-upon sigh. He’s not wrong, but you don’t want to admit it yet.

Time for a diversion, then.

“Hey, I can multitask! I built both of you at the same time and it turned out alright, didn’t it?”

For a moment, the room is absolutely silent as you both process what you just let slip. You’re about to rush to correct yourself when Sun beats you to it, speaking up.

He laughs at first, soft and a little dismissive.

“Not quite the same thing, sunshine.”

Alright, well… it seems he’s less bothered by the reminder than you thought he’d be. That, or he’s getting better at hiding his true feelings, which is a whole other issue you’ll have to tackle if that’s the case.

You cock your head to the side. Might as well play into it, then.

“No? How so?”

His eyes flicker to red, and this time they stay that way as his faceplate turns, click-click-clicking and stopping when it’s done a 180 so he can look at you properly.

Oh. He’s not smiling.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t push the topic.

“You designed us, doll. You didn’t build us, and you didn’t do it alone. You had a whole team behind you.”

Not breaking eye contact with you, Sun’s left hand that had been cradling the open book in his lap closes in an instant. A sudden, sharp clap resounds in the room as a result of the book folding closed so harshly in his grip. You internally grimace at the way it makes you flinch.

Your eyes flick from the book held tight in his grip, to his faceplate, watching his expression fade until his display is completely black. Any attempts at appearing somewhat humanoid thrown out the window, he releases a breath of hot air through his vents as you stare into the void of his screen. You know he’ll likely elaborate if you give him the space to do so, so you take a deep breath of your own, and wait.

It’s always somehow so much more unnerving to hear him speak when his “face” is gone, but you hang onto his every word regardless. You’re not gonna look away from something- someone you made.

“Besides, let’s not forget that even with a whole team of humans, you still managed to fuck up some… aspects… of the project.” Having dropped the comforting illusion of his false eyes, his faceplate tilts, a small, sudden, sharp movement so his ocular sensor can stare directly at you. “Didn’t you?”

Your stomach drops at the realization of what he’s referencing. At least… you think you know. Honestly, there’s an entire list of things that happened back in the facility that they have every right to resent you for.

You’re not sure what to say anymore. There really aren’t any magic words that can make it better. You hurt them. You all did. End of argument.

The realization must be obvious on your face, because his screen soon switches back to his default expression and he seems quite pleased with himself for about ten whole seconds. Then as quickly as it came, the expression he wears shifts into one of hesitation, frustration, and then finally- worry? Maybe? At this point it’s getting hard to tell what the hell he’s feeling, if you ever could.

“Sun… I… I don’t-”

You manage to hold his gaze as you stumble in search of the right words, watching his expression morph from one emotion to the next until his right hand moves, and your eyes immediately flick towards the motion. Your gaze drags up his arm as slowly, his shoulder joint rotates enough to allow him to reach all the way behind him- towards you- hand reaching out to gently cup your right cheek.

You don’t lean away. You won’t.

You dig your nails into the fabric of the couch. His thumb slips under the edge of your jaw as his fingers splay across the side of your head, and you can feel the slight pressure as his thumb lays against your carotid artery.

He doesn’t speak at all this time but from past experience, your mind easily fills in the words he usually says to you as he does this.

Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out slowly.

You know what he’s doing, and you let him. It’s far from the first time he’s done it.

His mixed expression doesn’t change, his hand doesn’t move, and the silence drags on until you can’t take it anymore. Your voice shakes but you push past it to get the words out.

“I… I swear to god- Sun- like I’ve said before, if I’d’ve had any clue that you two were alive back then-”

You’re forced to squint as his entire screen suddenly flashes, solid white, red, black, repeating several times. His grip on your cheek tightens just slightly. A warning of sorts, if you had to guess. It shuts you up fast and he hisses out an irritated “Don’t.”

Confusion is written on your face and without thinking, you open your mouth to insist on your apology.

His thumb immediately slips under your chin, pressing your mouth closed with such a slow, gentle motion contradicting his current demeanor that it practically gives you whiplash. As soon as your mouth is closed his thumb slips right back to its prior position over your pounding pulse, and his display fades back down to solid black.

“Stop talking. It fucks up my readings when you speak.”

Your brow furrows in frustration at first, but you do what he asked, and what you’re good at. You sit there with him in the quiet and focus on your breathing as the sounds of his cooling system kick up a notch.

The seconds feel like they drag on for ages due to the way you focus on them, but in reality it’s only about three minutes later that he finally seems satisfied with the readings he took as he slowly retracts his hand from your head. The black void of his faceplate slowly lights up again, albeit he’s replaced his default expression with something more akin to a… dynamic wallpaper- yellow smoke billowing across a dark screen.

Whatever suits him, you suppose.

Folding his hands together over the book in his lap, he finally speaks, his tone low and unhappy but not angry, really.

“Your HRV is low and your RHR is high.”

Your response comes out sounding more dismissive than you mean for it to.

“Yeah, they usually are. Nothing new, unfortunately.”

Sun’s body tenses a bit and his rays retract slightly in response. He releases another hot breath through the vent at the base of his neck and you can feel the warmth on your thigh through the fabric of your pants. He speaks again, voice slightly strained.

“That’s my point. You need to relax, and talking about the past isn’t helping you do that right now. So just… drop it.”

You want to point out that he could stand to take his own advice, but you bite your tongue instead. He’s right, after all. You do need to relax. You both do, what with the two of you walking around ready to snap most of the time. In spite of that though, he’s doing his best to deescalate the situation and you ought to follow suit.

The lack of Moon’s calming presence is painfully obvious during times like these, but the two of you ought to be able to make it through one damn conversation without needing his assistance. You laugh a little to yourself, unamused but wearing half a smile nonetheless, shaking your head at the thought. As much as he’d hate to admit it, even Sun knows that the three of you work best when you’re all together, balancing each other out.

You sigh, and let yourself flop against the back of the couch, stretching your right arm out across the length of it. Sun’s invisible gaze follows you as his faceplate tilts on its axis and rotates to remain facing you. You note the way he’s letting his neck gently rest against your right thigh.

Leaning your own head back and closing your eyes in defeat, you speak towards the ceiling.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. I’ll drop it.”

You drum your fingertips along the fabric of the couch in thought, before adding, “...And… maybe... I was doing too much at once, when I hurt my knee on the coffee table last week.”

He lets out a little hum of agreement.

Still, if he thinks he’s fully won this silly little argument he’s got another thing coming. You’ve definitely still got a counterpoint. Counter… question? Whatever.

“You said your eyes are everywhere, huh?”

Your question is met with silence.

You weren’t looking down though, you weren’t looking anywhere at all- and so you missed it completely, thinking nothing of his silence and continuing to talk to the ceiling.

“So… what, you just enjoy watching me do chores?”

He chuckles in response, and the vibrations from the sound tickle your outer thigh, causing the muscles there to twitch involuntarily. You cringe at your body’s sensitivity, but Sun thankfully doesn’t react.

Begrudgingly, you open your eyes and crane your head back up, bringing your right hand up off the couch to lean on. You pull your left leg up towards yourself at the same time, heel propping up on the arm of the couch. Curling toward your right, you realize you’ve inadvertently wrapped your body around his head, which is all but resting in your lap at this point. His rays are mostly retracted by now and the display on his faceplate has shifted once again, yellow clouds still billowing across black but he’s allowed parts of his expression to return, pale white eyes emerging from the smoke.

His face is otherwise unreadable as he finally responds to you. “My priority is keeping you safe. How can I do that if I can’t see you?”

You can’t help but scoff a little at that. “Safe? You were- apparently- watching me, and still let me trip on one of Zero’s toys and slam my knee into the table.”

At that, his mouth returns and he frowns at your tone, and so do you, realizing that you came across a bit more accusatory than you meant to. A beat passes where you both just stare at each other, and his voice is a lot softer when he speaks again.

“Was I not by your side within seconds after the fall, checking you for injuries?”

He was, and you know it. He was on you inhumanly fast, cradling your head like you’d fallen off a ladder or something and not just tripped and fell to your hands and knees on plush carpet. He’s a worrier and you know it damn well, even if he’d rather be decommissioned than admit to it.

Unfortunately, you never learned how to let yourself accept help, nor how to stop being stubborn in a stupid argument that you started yourself. “...Yeah. I guess. But you still could have offered to help before I tripped.”

He rolls his eyes before they land back on you, fixing you with a look that’s unexpectedly soft. In stark contrast, his voice comes out strained. “I was trying not to hover, sunshine.”

Your eyes flick away from his, always unable to maintain the sustained contact once things got a little too serious.

He keeps talking regardless.

“I know you. You would have been like- ‘Oh, no, I’ve got it! Don’t even worry about it!’ and wouldn’t have let me help even if I did offer.”

You scoff before leveling him with an unamused stare. “Oh, I do not sound like that. Shut it.”

He’s wearing a neutral expression but you notice as it shifts slightly, a hint of satisfaction at having gotten under your skin beginning to make itself known. You watch the hint of emotion begin to alter his digital features, as well as his voice.

“Regardless. ‘No lesson is as powerful as the lesson learned on one’s own.’ Besides, I knew you’d be fine.”

You blink down at him for a moment as you process his statement, and fail to contain your exasperated huff of annoyance when you realize where you’ve heard some of those words before.

“Don’t quote Night Vale at me right now, Sun.”

If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed the way his eyes turned upwards a bit, seemingly pleased with himself.

You continue, in spite of his attempts to deflect your words.

“You didn’t sound so self assured when you were rushing over to me on the floor with those big red “eyes” of yours blown wide. You were all like- ‘Where does it hurt? Show me. Where. How bad? You didn’t hit your head, right? Forget about the dog food- look at me.’ and all that.”

His eyes shift from crescent moons to flat lines, and his voice returns to his typical deadpan tone.

“You do a terrible impression of me.”

You scoff.

“Like yours is better?”

He nods, his faceplate shifting up and down within the limited range of motion he’s allowed, given your current position.

“I can literally mimic your voice. Mine is objectively superior.”

Thoughts of The Mimic flash in your mind, and it takes all you’ve got to not crack some sort of half-baked joke about the Ruin DLC. The smile on your face does little to hide the temptation, though.

“Debatable.”

Sun doesn’t press you for more, seeming less than eager to hear whatever joke he’s sure you’ve got sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“It’s not up for debate. If you wanna debate with someone go find Moon.”

He sighs heavily, breathing out his next words in an impressive display of realism given that his speech and breathing functions aren’t connected at all.

“I've run out of conversation juice.”

He shifts to sit back up, faceplate rotating, returning his body to its original position facing away from you. You huff and uncurl yourself from your perch on the couch. Moving to stand, you make your way around to the other end where his long legs cause his feet to jut out comically far past the armrest. You reach down, gently grabbing him by the ankles and begin to maneuver his legs out of the way, muttering to yourself as you do so.

“Wish I was a robot so I could lie and say my system has run out of something I don’t even have in the first place…”

He puts up no resistance as you fold his legs away accordion style, watching you in what almost seems like thoughtful silence. Once you’ve made room for yourself, you perch once again on the other arm of the couch, your feet resting on the far left cushion and your left side leaning against the backrest. He finally speaks once it seems that you’re settled.

“Alright. How would you rather I put it?”

You quirk an eyebrow up, slightly surprised at the sincere tone of his question. Shaking your head, you're quick to convey that you were only joking.

“No, no I didn't say to change it. I like ‘conversation juice', I think it’s funny.”

He tilts his head a bit, slow and analyzing. Half a smile slowly curls across his face and both of his eyes take on a soft, pale yellow. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was tired. He's looking at you with such a gentle gaze. It's almost… sad, if you look closely enough.

“Funny? Hm. Well, I suppose I am nothing if not a clown.”

His attention drifts back down to his book, cracking it open and flipping through to return to the page he left off on in no particular hurry.

You know his deadpan tone likely isn’t meant to sound so self deprecating but your heart still hurts at the thought that he only sees himself as some sort of… novelty toy. A joke. A mechanical clown for you to play with when you’re bored. A comedic horror character brought to life.

He can only make so many jokes about himself before they start to sound less like jokes and more like a way for him to vent his insecurities. You understand that type of “humor” far too well to just sit back and watch him do it to himself.

You struggle to resist the urge to remind him that there is much, much more to him than being modeled after that character from that game. You consider reaching out and curling the tip of a finger under the bottom edge of his face plate. You think about gently tilting his face away from the book and back up at you. You want to look him in the eye while you tell him all of the things that you love about him, and how much he means to you, and that he is so much more than a clown.

But you know he handles comfort and praise just about as well as a cat handles falling into a bathtub, so… you resist the urge. For now.

Eventually, one day, likely far from now, you hope to get him used to the amount of love you have to give, and you’ll smother him with it like you want to. But if you lay it all on him like that right now, he would probably overheat and shut down. Both metaphorically and literally.

You really don’t want that to happen again. Scared the hell out of you last time. Even knowing that it’s a safety measure to ensure that he doesn’t sustain damage from overheating- it looks an awful lot like he’s dying when it happens and you’d like to not have to see it again.

So, you opt to keep things lighthearted. You smile as you reach out to pat him on the knee.

“And an excellent clown you are, dear.”

There’s more sugar in your tone than you intended to let out, but if he knew everything you really wanted to say, he’d realize that you’re actually being very reserved right now.

You’re being very normal about it all, you think, as you silently praise yourself.

When you finally get out of your thoughts and back into your body, you realize that you’re being eyed by the man on your couch in such a way that indicates he knows you were caught up in your head again. You spent too long in silence before you responded to him and now he’s likely aware that you were wanting to say something else.

A lot else, actually.

So, before he can potentially ask you what you’re thinking about, you attempt to change the topic. Laughing a bit to yourself, you stretch and shift to make your sudden and hopefully casual retreat from the couch and the awkward air you’ve clouded around it. Twisting around and planting your feet on the floor, there’s forced humor in your voice as you wonder aloud where his other half is.

“Speaking of clowns, what’s Moon been up to while I was working?”

Sun’s expression is unreadable as he spares you one last moment of his visual attention before angling his monitor back down toward the book. You know he’s perfectly capable of taking in visual information while outputting completely separate verbal communication, and can give both tasks his full attention simultaneously in the way no human truly could. Still, in spite of that knowledge, you doubt he’s really paying much attention to the words on the pages before him as he speaks to you right now.

“You know that sad, sad little plant that’s been fighting for its life on your kitchen windowsill for the last… thirty-seven days?”

You cringe a bit at the reminder of the succulent you impulse-purchased recently- well, a tad longer than recently if Sun’s count is accurate, which you know it is. You’ve been meaning to re-pot the poor thing and find a different place for it where it’ll receive better light, but… you’ve been meaning to do a lot of things.

“...Yeah…”

“Last I saw, he took it outside through the back door. He was muttering something about ‘saving’ it.”

Your eyebrows knit as your gaze casts across the floor.

“Saving it... okay.”

As far as you’re aware, you don’t have any potting soil on hand, so you struggle to feature what he’s out there doing with it.

It’s right around this time that you notice the silence of the house amidst your quiet consideration.

You raise another question.

“I assume Zero followed him out there?”

Sun’s true focus seems to be gradually shifting away from you and back into the book, if his display’s shift back to blank, soft white and his neutral-toned yet concise reply are anything to go off of.

“Mhm.”

You suck in a breath and pat your legs before easing yourself up off of the couch.

“I'm gonna go see what they’re up to, then.”

You’re so bold as to lay a gentle hand briefly on his shoulder as you pass him by, lingering just long enough to let something sincere slip.

“I hope you enjoy the book.”

He kicks his folded legs back out, crossing them as they come to rest on the opposite armrest once again.

“Don’t spoil it for me.”

You smile at his avoidance of your sentimentality, laughing a bit as you cross the room, headed for the back door, your tone playful.

“I make no promises!”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! You can find my (lengthy) commentary on this fic in the end notes right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog's pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Header Image Source: x

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tsarisfanfiction · 5 months

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Light in the Dark

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Romance Characters: Nico, Will Nico misjudges a shadow travel and ends up dumping them in the wrong cave. It's not where they were meant to be, but it lets them have an important conversation. TOApril Day 21 - The Sun and The Earth. This was another prompt that took me ages to figure out, but I've been meaning to practice writing Solangelo for the first time in a while (curse you, TSATS) so have a bit of a snippet of me remembering how to write these two again.

The by-now familiar feeling of tiredness washed through Nico as he stepped out from the shadows, hand firmly clenched around Will’s as he guided his boyfriend back into the mortal world again and he staggered briefly.

Their new surroundings were pitch black, a cavern deep beneath the earth, but as light began to trickle in, illuminating their surroundings, Nico realised that, maybe, he hadn’t brought them to the particular cavern he’d been aiming for.

Merda.

Will was going to kill him. Luckily, they didn’t appear to have arrived anywhere that was teeming with hoards of monsters ready to launch at them and tear them to pieces – the opposite, in fact, with a complete and utter dearth of any other lifeforms except for the two of them – but it was still Nico that had brought them here, possibly got them a little bit lost, and Will wasn’t going to let him shadow travel again until he’d had a nap or three.

Speaking of Will…

Nico glanced over at his side, where he could feel the warmth of Will’s hand still in his, to see that the sudden illumination of the initially black cavern was stemming from his boyfriend. Will hadn’t shrugged off any clothing, so it was somewhat stifled by the fabric covering his torso and arms, but the brightness more than made up for it. It almost hurt to look directly at him.

That… that was new.

Not that Will could glow that brightly – he could glow brighter still, Nico had seen it in Nero’s tower, and when they’d first discovered that Will could glow and he’d turned into a human flash-bang, except mercifully without the bang – but the fact that he was.

“You’re glowing,” he said, feeling a little bit dumb as the observation fell from his lips. Of course Will was glowing, anyone with eyes could see that.

Will shrugged, the shape of the light rising and falling to accentuate the movement. “Well, duh,” he said. “It’s dark and I want to be able to see.”

“No, no,” Nico shook his head. “You’re glowing but I didn’t tell you to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will asked, sounding almost wounded. Nico felt him tug his hand out from his grip, and made an aborted reach to try and catch it again. “Am I supposed to wait for you to tell me to glow?”

Oh.

Nico made another grab for Will’s hand, this time not pulling back before he made contact with the warm skin.

“No,” he said at the same time. “No, Will, that’s not what I meant!”

Will paused in his second extraction of his hand from Nico’s fresh hold. “Then what did you mean?” he asked, “because that kind of sounded like you expect me to wait for your permission to use my powers.”

Nico winced, well aware that in the light still being emitted by Will his boyfriend could see it clearly. “Not that,” he said. “Gods, not that, Will.”

Will shifted where he stood, a little fidget that said he wasn’t quite sure what was going on – or maybe it was just the ADHD kicking in. With Will, it could be either, or both. “Okay, I’m listening,” he said. “What did you mean?”

“You never used to glow until I convinced you too,” Nico pointed out, and Will’s fingers tensed between his, so clearly he was saying the wrong thing again. “You used to say it was embarrassing, Will.”

The tension started seeping away again, which hopefully meant he was on the right track now.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you glow without needing to be talked into it, Will,” he said, his voice breaking a little and going soft, but Will’s face lit up independent of his glowing so that couldn’t have been a bad thing.

Will’s cheeks started emitting a red-tinged glow, the way they usually did when he was glowing and embarrassed. “No-one told me to glow at the Tower,” he muttered, and Nico shrugged.

“I wasn’t exactly with it then, was I?” he admitted, and watched a flash of something cross Will’s face – the sort of something that promised the intended recipient was going to regret crossing the son of Apollo. Nico hoped it was aimed at the long-gone Nero and his minions rather than him. It hadn’t been his fault that he’d been knocked out – not really, anyway. Maybe he’d taken on more than he should have done, but Nero had needed to be stopped somehow.

Will squeezed his hand. “No, you weren’t,” he admitted. “But what’s your point, Nico?”

“You’re getting more confident,” Nico said, and he hoped Will could hear the pride in his voice, because he was proud of Will for it. He’d even called it his powers, instead of mumbling something about how it was just a thing that happened sometimes.

He felt Will freeze. “I… am?” he asked, sounding completely baffled, as though the concept hadn’t occurred to him. Knowing Will, it hadn’t. Nico didn’t say anything else, letting Will think it through, sort through his emotions until he found the answer. “Oh. I am.”

But Nico had to laugh at his surprise. “You are,” he said, squeezing Will’s hand tightly. “Apollo’s pep talk finally got it through your thick skull,” and he wasn’t bitter about that, not really. It was a little frustrating that nothing he had said had managed to convince Will that his powers were both a part of him and something to be celebrated and used, but at least someone had – and who was better suited to be that someone than Will’s own father, and the one he’d inherited it from in the first place.

His free hand reached up to catch Will’s cheek. “I’m proud of you,” he said, knowing he was echoing Apollo’s words, but Apollo didn’t have a monopoly on being proud of his son. “You’re amazing, Will.”

The glow from Will’s face got a little redder again, but Nico’s attention was more taken by the quirk of his lips as he actually seemed to let the praise sink in, instead of deflecting it like he usually did.

Nico got the feeling he owed Apollo several prime sacrifices during dinner for finally getting enough of a chink in Will’s armour of self esteem issues that he could actually listen to praise, now. Hades would understand.

He probably wouldn’t, but Nico didn’t care.

He slipped his hand around the back of Will’s neck and lightly tugged him forwards. Will came willingly, with no resistance at all, and Nico pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m proud of you,” he said again, keeping firm eye contact.

“Thanks, Nico,” Will replied, barely a whisper but close enough that it was easy to hear him anyway. They stayed there for a moment, Nico basking in the warm comfort of Will’s presence and glow – which was very much one and the same, right then – before Will pulled away slightly, outside of immediate kissing range, but not so far that he couldn’t re-enter it on a whim, if he wanted. “So, did you bring me here just to kiss me where no-one else could see, or was there another reason? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but this does seem rather excessive when there were several places in camp you could’ve taken me without exhausting yourself on shadow travel.”

Nico winced again, and Will’s newfound confident glow dashed any hopes he had of hiding it.

“Nico.”

“I… uh. Miscalculated,” he mumbled. “This isn’t where we were supposed to be.”

Will’s sigh was his unimpressed one, where Nico was in for a lecture on recklessness with his powers as soon as his boyfriend was satisfied they were in a safe enough location to do it – or more accurately, that Nico was in a state to actually absorb it, because Hades knew his boyfriend had no real situational awareness when it came to dishing out scoldings.

“Well, is there another way out of this cave, or are we stuck here until you’re recharged?” he asked. His glow started brightening again, gentle but steady as he lit more and more of their surroundings. Nico still had to look away when he started getting light echoes in his vision, blinking once or twice before he could focus on the now very well lit cavern.

There didn’t look like there was any exits. Without letting go of Will’s hand, he knelt and pressed his free hand to the floor, feeling through the stone. He wasn’t as good at it as Hazel, but maybe…

He sighed. Or maybe not. He couldn’t sense anything already there, and Will would go ballistic on him if he started moving rock around while he was already tired from shadow travel.

“We’re stuck, aren’t we.” Will was resigned. “There’d better not be anything in here that wants to kill us while we wait.”

Nico couldn’t feel anything, but wasn’t going to tempt the Fates by saying it out loud. Still, Will seemed to have come to a similar conclusion by himself, because he suddenly sat down, the movement overbalancing Nico enough that he found his rear connecting with the stone floor, too.

“I guess we’re waiting,” Will sighed. His glow dimmed slightly, enough that Nico could look at him again without risking his ability to see, and a warm weight rested on his shoulder. Nico tilted his own head until his cheek landed on something soft.

“I guess so,” he agreed.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril2024 #tsari writes fanfiction #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo apollo #solangelo

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beelsbignaturals · 1 year

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🪼DEMON FORMS: LEVIATHAN🪸

AN: Please check my obey me world building tag for the other posts in this series.

Inspo for this particular post: @bubbiedubs @hotdemonsummer @galoismyhimbo @waltnut @unluckykay

TWs: body horror just to be safe, mentions of mild injury, venom, drowning mention. Demons looking somewhat demonic.

● Lvl 1.5 Starting with our loveable fishy boy, his "half n half" state has the following: a scattering of scales across his body, the biggest concentration is on his shoulders and legs. His teeth are shark-like and super sharp. He accidentally cuts his mouth all the time since he has a nervous habit of chewing on his lips. His freckles (yes, I am a Levi freckle truther) become bioluminescent but only barely. His ears look like fins. He has an extra eyelid for seeing underwater better. He also has a forked tongue. It looks cool as fuck.

When you fuss over the demon, applying salve to the cuts the frequently littering his mouth, his ear fins wiggle ever so slightly. Is it in delight or embarrassment? Both. If the freckles glowing with a pinkish hue across his cheeks are anything to go by. When you exit his room, leaving a small jar of the healing balm behind, you might just hear a mumbled "Thanks, normie" as the door clicks shut.

● Level 2 has an increase in scales. They cover his chest all the way to his neck and down his arms. They start to become more sparse the further away they are from his torso. His horns and tail make an appearance. The bioluminescence is more noticeable, and his eyes glow bright orange in the dark. Oh! And he has visible gills! Other than that, he has everything from his level 1.5 form

You knock on Leviathan's door, having been told to go tell him dinner is ready since he isn't answering his DDD. You hear... sniffling from inside. Being the caring person you are, you crack the door open and softly call out his name. "Levi? You okay?" A large bundle that you thought was a pile of dirty laundry turns out to be a large blanket wrapped around the third born. It's completely dark aside from the illumination from the aquarium and his TV, which is paused on a tragic anime death. The blanket over his head creates even more shadow. The only thing you can see is two blowing orange dots staring straight into your soul. A pathetic sniff comes from the blanket cave, tugging on your heartstrings. Dinner is forgotten as you join the distraught demon on the floor.

● Level 3, everything from the last two but with the addition of his teeth growing longer, becoming more needle-like and his lips all but disappear. Since they would just get in the way of his teeth. He has an extra set of gills on his sides. His horns grow bigger, branching out like coral. He also grows one of those lure things anglerfish have, and his tail gets longer. Both his freckles and the light on the end of the lure glow extremely bright when he blushes. His hands and feet become webbed. His arms and legs start to have delicate looking fins along them. As well as a larger one on his spine. He needs to be kept moist, or his skin will crack, and it's gross and painful. He prefers to be submerged in water, but if he needs to leave his room, just mist him like a plant, and it'll be fine. This is the form he takes after the trivia battle… yay.

Scolding Levi for what feels like the hundredth time today, you toss one of Asmo's many expensive lotions at the demon. If this man doesn't start taking care of himself, you think you might scream. His lure and freckles flash various bright colors as you unceremoniously grab his leg and apply the lotion, being sure not to hurt the fragile frilly gills in the process.

● Level 4. Levi is every sailor's nightmare. If there is a sea monster story? That's probably him. He is completely aquatic like this. Which can be a hassle. For practical reasons, his size is dependent on how much water he has access to. For cute reasons, this means he can be a very tiny nightmare fuel sea serpent and hang out with Henry 2.0 in his aquarium. In theory, you could put him in a glass of water and carry the mini-Levi around with you. THIS GOT WAY TOO CUTE OK, so back to the freaky shit. If given enough water, Leviathan's horns will turn into a fully functional coral reef. Man has his own ecosystem. His teeth are large, thin, and incredibly sharp. They don't all fit in his mouth. He is covered in orange spots similar in shape to a blue ring octopus. And they serve the same function, letting everyone know, "HEY THIS DUDE IS VERY TOXIC" (physically, not emotionally). He secretes a toxin that, if you come into contact with it, it will cause your lungs to fill with water, no matter what environment you are in, until you drown. Luckily, unless he is super emotional, Levi has full control over it and can choose not to poison everyone. I mean, sometimes he will take on this form for funsies (playing with Lotan) so he doesn't need to be constantly secreting magic poison.

"HEY!" You shout at the glass of water in your hand. A certain otaku had a bit of a tantrum and summoned Lotan on school property. It's your job to babysit him while he's in The Timeout Cup. Levi has since calmed down tremendously and is rather playful. By spitting a stream of water at your face. The little shit!

#om! shall we date #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me worldbuilding #obey me levi headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #shrimp writes

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dreamcatcher92 · 1 year

Text

Coercion Chapter Two

So this is my second smut story that I have been working on. I am hoping you all enjoy!

It is a bit dark. Yes, Billy Russo is of course our main character aside from a girl named Cassidy. Who is completely made up and meant to be played by the reader. The other characters that are mentioned in this story are made up as well and not based on anyone in particular. I did this one differently than my first story, but I wanted to switch up my writing style a bit. So you may see more differences in other stories to come. Things that are bold and italicized are thoughts.

Now for some warnings for the entire story but necessarily in the current chapter you read: dark Billy for sure, non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, NSFW, 18+, smut, sex, rape, attempted rape, physical violence, abusive behavior, language. I think that covers it, but sorry if I missed something.

Read at your own risk.

Cassidy kept looking at the clock. Two and a half hours had passed and there was nothing around. Just darkness and thick masses of trees on both sides of the road. It was such an awkward drive. Neither one of them said a word.

“We’re almost there.” he said, breaking the silence.

Cassidy quickly looked over at him. He had a very serious look on his face. She could tell he was a no-nonsense kind of person. He was very intimidating and made her extremely nervous. Her heart was beating fast and the more she thought of different scenarios that could potentially happen, the worse she felt.

Moments later, the car pulled off the main road and onto a driveway that was tucked in the tree line. They drove down the path for a few minutes and that’s when she could see the clearing up ahead. As they came from the trees, Cassidy looked around. There was so much land, but it was all surrounded by a very tall fence. What is this place?

The car approached the gate in the fence. A bright light illuminated a keypad that was on a metal pillar located at the side of the driveway. Mr. Russo rolled down his window, typed in a code, and the gates began to open. Cassidy felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

She looked ahead and could see a house coming into view. The exterior had black concrete walls with several floor to ceiling windows. The entire area around the structure was glowing from the ground lights that shined brightly on the walls.

As the vehicle came to a stop, Cassidy let out a shaky breath. She was so on edge and all she wanted to do was run. Her mind began to race with ideas of how to escape. She began to whimper and couldn’t believe how her life had been completely turned upside down.

Mr. Russo shut off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He began typing a message to someone, so Cassidy decided to unbuckle as well.

As soon as she pushed the button on the buckle, he grabbed her wrist tightly and raised her arm into the air away from the seat, “Did anyone tell you to move?!”

“N-no. I’m s-sorry. I ju-”

“You don’t move or do anything unless I say so. Do you understand me?”

“Yes! Yes, sir!”

He let go of her wrist and went back to typing on his phone as if nothing happened. Panic began setting in and Cassidy’s entire body began to tremble uncontrollably. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Mr. Russo opens his door and gets out. He walks around the front of the car to the passenger side and opens the door.

“Get out of the car and stand next to it.” he said in a harsh tone.

Cassidy didn’t hesitate, she got out, stood with her back to the car, and did not move an inch. She watched as he grabbed three large suitcases from the trunk then slammed the lid shut.

“This one has clothes for you. We’re going to be staying here for a few months before going back to the city.” he said, looking down at her and placing a piece of luggage at her feet.

Cassidy was stuck in her thoughts and stared down at the gravel. Run! Run right now! You can make it!

“Hey!” Mr. Russo shouted as he snapped his fingers in front of her face.

She flinched and looked up at him, “I-I’m sorry.”

He glared at her for a few seconds, “Take your stuff up onto the porch. I have a few more things to grab. Wait for me there.”

“Y-yes Mr. Russo.” she said softly as she grabbed the handle to the suitcase and started walking toward the front porch.

As she walked away, he grabbed a large gym bag and computer bag from the backseat. Cassidy walked up the few stairs to stand next to the front door. She kept her eyes down and waited for him as he instructed. Just do what he says. Breathe.

Minutes later, he walked up beside her and sat the computer bag on the ground. He then flipped open a small metal lid that revealed a keypad on the wall. Cassidy watched as he disarmed the security system before they went inside. This felt like some sort of prison instead of a house.

“From this point on, I want you to call me by my first name, Billy.” he said before gesturing for her to walk inside.

Cassidy sheepishly nodded and walked in. She looked up to see that she was now standing on the entryway landing. The floorplan was very open. There were three stairs leading down on either side of the platform to walk into the living area or toward the kitchen. A giant glass chandelier was hanging from the ceiling directly above her.

The living room had a black leather sectional that surrounded a round glass coffee table. It faced the enormous black marble fireplace. All the walls were painted a light gray and the floors were white marble floors with a large plush black rug that covered most of the living room floor.

The kitchen and dining area was just as impressive. All stainless-steel appliances, a round glass table that had dark wooden criss cross supports and a beautiful tempered glass tabletop, and black marble countertops to accent the white cabinets. Cassidy stood and took everything in for a few moments.

Billy placed his hand on her back and guided her to walk with him. Leaving the luggage behind, he took her down the long hall that was tucked between the living room and kitchen. On both sides of the hall were the floor to ceiling windows. It was like she was walking through a glass tunnel.

She looked to her right and saw that there was an inground pool and hot tub in the backyard of the house. The crystal-clear water was glowing from the LED lights. She was staring so intensely that she didn’t realize she was slowing down to almost a complete stop while they walked down the hall. It was only when Billy turned and pulled her along that she came back to reality.

They came to the first door and stopped. Billy opened the door and flipped the light on. Inside was a polished wooden desk paired with a nice black leather desk chair, two dark brown leather couches, and a dark wooden coffee table that sat in between the couches. This was Billy’s office where he would do his work while they stayed here.

“This door is to always stay shut. If for some reason you need me while I’m working, knock first and wait for me to let you in. Understand?” he said as he turned the light out and pulled the door shut.

“Yes, Mr. Ru- uh Billy.” she said, nodding her head.

Next, a few feet away and across the hall, was another door.

Billy walked over and opened the door, “This will be your room when you’re not in my room with me.”

Cassidy felt her heart skip, “O-okay.”

This room consisted of a small twin sized mattress laying on the floor that had one pillow and a small throw blanket on it. There was one tall lamp that stood in the furthest corner of the room, and a white plush rug sat in the center of the room on the floor.

Finally, they reached the end of the hallway where there was one last door to go through. Billy swung it open and pulled her inside with him. This was Billy’s bedroom. He had a large walk-in closet and a bathroom connected to his room as well. His king size bed had several pillows and a white feather down comforter. It looked incredibly comfortable.

“This is my room. The closet is right over there. In the morning, I want you to unpack our bags and put everything away neatly. Through the door on the left is a bathroom. Questions?” Billy quickly explained as he walked around the room.

Cassidy was extremely overwhelmed and anxious, “Uh. N-no, I don’t think so.” Why is he talking so fast?

Billy nodded, “Alright, I’ll draw us a bath before bed.”

Cassidy froze. Us? She began to breathe heavily and felt like she was going to have a panic attack. Billy walked into the bathroom, leaving Cassidy standing in the center of his room. She heard the water start running and immediately felt a pit in her stomach. She looked over at the bedroom door and stared down the long hallway. RUN! Run now!

Cassidy bolted for the door, but as soon as she made it to the doorframe, she heard Billy clear his throat loudly behind her. She froze. She began to feel lightheaded from her nerves. She knew she fucked up and that he was going to be angry. Why did I just do that?!

“Turn. Around. Now.” Billy said in a firm and agitated voice.

Cassidy slowly turned around. She looked Billy in the eyes and could feel the tension rising in the room. Billy began walking up to her, but she couldn’t move. Every muscle was tensed up and she was frightened of what was about to occur.

Once he got close to her, she began to plead with him, “I’m so sorry! Please! It was a stupid mistake and I panicked! Please Billy!”

Billy said nothing, but grabbed a fist full of Cassidy’s hair. She cried out in pain as he pulled her from where she stood and took her into the bathroom. He twisted her around to face him and ripped off the yellow sundress that she was wearing.

Cassidy quickly tried to cover herself with her arms and hands. She was mortified. Billy grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms to her side.

“You’re going to have to get used to me seeing you naked sweetheart. Now, get in the damn bath.” Billy spoke in a deep, serious tone and kept direct eye contact with Cassidy.

Cassidy turned and stepped into the warm bath water. She sat down, and kept her head down. Billy knelt down beside the tub, grabbed the washcloth from the water, and started running it along Cassidy’s back to wet her skin.

“You know, what you did a few minutes ago was really fucking stupid, right?”

“Y-yes,” she whimpered.

He went silent for a few moments while continuing to trickle water onto Cassidy’s skin. Then, without warning, Billy grabs her by the throat and forces her head under the water. Cassidy kicks and grabs at Billy, but he continues holding her underwater for a few seconds longer. Finally, he lets her back up and she is gasping for air. She’s spitting water out and taking harsh, deep breaths to try and get air back into her lungs.

Billy cups her chin and turns her head to face him, “You gonna do that again?”

Stunned, she looks at him as she cries, “No! Please! I swear I won’t do it again Billy!”

Billy tilts his head back and stares at her with his dark eyes, “Good girl.”

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo smut #the punisher #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes smut #billy russo fanfic #fanfic #smut #smut fanfiction #dark!billy russo #dark billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #ben barnes x reader #benbarnesedit #fanfiction #fanfic writing

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fangirlshrewt97 · 2 years

Text

Tale As Old As Time... (Part 12)

Could it be? Did this girl finally get her shit together enough to actually get back to the work everyone was waiting for so long that they are over it because of how long she took to get back to it?

Look guys, I have no idea when my next update will be, but I do have the entire story plotted out and am determined to see it though, so I kindly ask you to be patient and bear with me.

For all the anticipation, this chapter might be a little slow, but. um. Good things come to those who wait? I know I have made you wait A LONG TIME, but you have trusted me to come back to this story.

Also apologies if the chapter is a little rough, I am trying to get back into the groove of the story.

So, without further ado...

Full work on Ao3 is here

(Previous Chapter)

///

Welcome back my dear. Last we left our protagonists, they were sharing a bed in slumber, the first step in their journey together formed between their intertwined hands. Now the time is coming to see whether this seed will blossom, and what it will bloom into.

///

Jai blinked his eyes open lazily, nuzzling into the black head of hair resting against his shoulder. The scent of sandalwood comforted him into sinking into it. He curled himself from his back to his side, one leg brushing another’s.

The action had him snapping his eyes open as the world came into focus with dizzying speed.

He was in Kala Bhairava's room.

In his bed.

And Kala Bhairava was curled into his side, face smushed into Jai's arm.

Jai's brain may have been difficulty processing this information, but one half of Jai's body did not. It felt his the nerves of his arm in particular were directly connected to his lower half, the way each brush of Kala Bhairava’s eyelashes against his arm, or the soft exhales of his breaths against his skin sent frissons of static down his spine. Taking a controlled breath, Jai tried to put some space between them.

He didn't get very far. He had barely moved a few inches before a small whine from Bhairava rooted him to the spot, seeing if his bedmate would awaken. The space allowed him a better view of the other man's face.

The room was illuminated by faint tendrils of light, though very little made it past the canopy curtains. Extending his free hand to part the curtain, Jai inhaled sharply.

Even the small light seemed very bright after the darkness of the bed, with the rays casting a glow to Kala Bhairava's figure.

Bhairava.

The man had asked him to call him Bhairava last night.

As memories of the previous night flooded back in, Jai was torn between mild mortification at having come to Bhairava's room at that hour of night, and a stronger sense of accomplishment.

As he pictured their kiss, he could feel the phantom weight of another body, of fingers curling into his hair. He clenched his fists tight enough for his nails to bite into the flesh of his palm, trying to will his body under control.

Jai had taken bedmates before, spent the night in arms of both men and women. And yet.

And yet.

As usual, Bhairava had made every experience feel new, so much more intense than Jai could recall feeling with any other.

In the early dawn light, the other man's face was serene. He looked younger. Softer. There was none of the fear or hesitation Jai often saw in faces.

But Bhairava had never looked at him in fear. Hadn't that been what had piqued his interest in the first place?

Curiosity, surprise, shock, confusion. Even wonder.

But not fear.

Jai pulled back his hand, letting the curtain fall to plunge the pair in darkness again. The wave of want that hit him was new. Unexpected.

This man was driving Jai out of his mind, and entirely unaware of it.

Reaching out in the dark, Jai barely laid his fingers on Bhairava's hair, softly running down their length. Bhairava seemed to melt against him.

Jai needed to get out of here.

He needed to leave before Bhairava woke.

He would be expected at the palace shrine for his daily prayers, and he couldn't let the servants find his bed undisturbed. Gossip travelled faster than air within these walls.

Decision made, Jai slowly but surely pulled himself away from Bhairava. An eternity of five minutes, Jai was hyper aware of every point of contact between them. Bhairava's brows furrowing as he tried to tighten his grip nearly undid Jai. However, Jai managed to extract himself and slipped out of the curtain. Just before the cloth fell, he glanced back to see Bhairava's frown as he rolled into the space left by Jai, pressing his face into the pillow Jai had used.

Jai left the room quietly, walking quickly through the back passages till he reached his own room. Slipping in, he breathed in relief that he had not run into anyone.

He went and laid on his bed, knowing a servant would come in a minute to prepare his bath. And his timing was perfect, no sooner had he closed the curtains of his canopy, did he hear the servant's door being opened and water being poured in.

As he laid there, he pressed a finger to his lips. The kiss had been so much more than he had expected.

He sat up with his back to the headboard.

With his eyes closed he could feel Bhairava climbing onto his lap. The way their first kiss had been a barely there brush of the lips. The way Jai's fingers remember the shape of Bhairava's waist. The warring lust and nervousness in Bhairava's voice as he requested they just sleep.

The way a finger had hesitantly brushed his hand in the dark.

How their hands intertwined so naturally between them, as if they were made to be held together.

Jai's earlier lust faded into a deeper yearning.

What if he had stayed? Would Bhairava have been embarrassed? What would those deep brown eyes look like as they fluttered awake?

Would he have allowed Jai to kiss him? To do more? To press him onto his back, bracketing him between his hips. For Jai's fingers to tangle in those black locks as his other hand slipped beneath the thin kurta he had been wearing.

The clicking locks of the servant's doors brought Jai back to the present. Pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, he exhaled. He needed to get a grip.

Discarding his borrowed clothes (but not before running his fingers over where the seams had split; Bhairava gripping it so tight he tore it) Jai entered the bath. He sank into the warm water, tension seeping away from his muscles. Running his hands slowly down his chest, across his legs and back again.

He grabbed the scented oils, setting about bathing himself.

///

"Om Nama Sivaya" Jai finished his prayers, opening his eyes to watch as the priest brought the aarthi from the inner sanctum.

He reached out to hover his hands over the fire, pressing then to his hands, and repeating the motion twice more. A second priest held a silver bowl with theertha, sacred Tulsi water, which he poured a spoonful of into Jai's cupped palm. Drinking the water, Jai closed his eyes once more, pressing his palms together against his chest.

Bowing to the Shivaling, he rose from the short wooden bench.

He nodded once to the priests, who bowed to him.

Jai exited the shrine to find Kaakha waiting for him.

"Is it urgent Kaakha, or may we have our morning meal?" Jai said plainly.

Kaakha bowed. "It can wait a short while Maharaj."

The pair made their way to the royal wing, entering the dining room just in time to see Kusa throw a chikku fruit at Lava. Jai growled, making both brothers stiffen and scramble to their feet.

"Annayya!" "Jai!"

"I've meet st-street children with better manners than you two."

Lava ducked his head ashamed, while Kusa, as expected, tossed his head in the air. "Lava started it."

"I highly doubt it." Jai said drily as he took his seat at the head of the table. Kaakha sat down beside Lava.

"When did you come Annayya? I didn't hear the drums announcing your arrival." Lava asked softly, extending the platter of chutney for his brother.

"Near midnight." Jai grunted as he served himself.

That seemed to be a cue to pause further conversation. Of course his brothers could not actually be held to those standards. Barely a few minutes passed before Jai became aware of the unsubtle head tilts and glances being traded between the pair.

He placed his goblet of water more forcefully on the table, the bang making both of them jump. "What?"

Lava gulped as he ran a finger around the length of his collar. Kusa glared at him and spoke. "We met your little soldier friend."

Jai resisted facepalming. With everything that had occurred during his trip, he had forgotten about the meal between his brothers and Bhairava. Keeping his voice neutral, he asked. "And?"

"Looks like a girl." Kusa said. "Hey!"

Lava had obviously kicked him (successfully hitting his target this time). "Bhairava garu seems very nice, Annayya. Will he be staying with us for longer?"

Jai felt his eye twitch as he considered the consequences of stabbing Kusa. Not to kill. Maybe his upper thigh, he'd certainly been stuffing himself enough to have adequate padding.

"Indefinitely."

Lava and Kusa exchanged glances. “And…what is he going to be doing?”

Jai resolutely kept his eyes away from Kaakha.

"Did you behave?" Jai asked instead. There were too many feeling knotting together in his chest to make sense of presently.

"Obviously." Kusa retorted.

Jai's hand twitched. What the hell had Kusa said to Bhairava?

Draining the rest of his water, Jai signaled for the servants to bring the water bowls.

Soaking his fingers, Jai dried his hands on the towel the servant held. "Thank you Bhagesh."

Bhagesh bowed deeply. "It is my honor Maharaj."

Jai rose from his seat, only to pause when the kitchen doors swung open to reveal Arunama. "Maharaj!"

Jai's lips twitched. "Arunama. Can I d-do something for you?"

She pointed her ever present knife at Kusa, who shrunk back against the table. "Can you feed him to the snakes?"

Jai shook his head. "I cannot risk them getting indigestion."

"Hey!" Kusa protest was muffled by Lava slapping his hand over his mouth and trying to sit on him.

Arunama harrumphed. "Fine, then I need two more batches of vegetables to prepare for the Rajyasabha."

Jai nodded, turning to Kaakha. "Make the necessary arrangements Kaakha." Kaakha bowed. "Of course Maharaj."

"Anything e-else?"

Arunama shook her head. "Any requests for lunch Maharaj?"

"Whatever you decide will be more than sa-satisfactory."

Arunama smile, pride radiating around her. "Thank you Maharaj."

///

As Jai let the arguments between Charuvat-manthri and Goopeswaran-manthri fade to the background, Jai once again pondered why he had felt the urge to go to see Bhairava last night.

They had disguised the trip as a routine trip through Jai's provinces, but their real goal had been the small area governed by Sarkar-manthri.

Jai had fought to hide his disgust at how the people there had all been skin and bones, hairs hanging limply as further signs of their malnutrition. Even as his subjects all came to see him as he rode up to the manthri's mansion, he noticed the children with the tattered clothing and the distended bellies. Had noticed how unlike the children of the capital that looked at him with wonder, these children shrunk away and cowered in fear. He noticed the barely held back contempt in the eyes of the adults.

The initial bad taste in his mouth had only grown worse as he was ushered to a grand feast that had been prepared in his honor. So much food hoarded to fill greedy stomachs as young souls starved outside his walls. And the attitude of the manthri himself, obsequious to the point of disgust. How he spoke in double edged comments, a compliment and an insult wrapped in one.

When one of the servants, a young woman who appeared more a girl, had accidentally dropped a platter of nuts, the man had hit her with his cane. It was only Kaakha's biting grip on his arm that kept him from throttling the man in return.

That night, he had been fuming as Kaakha had reiterated how important it was to keep the manthri from guessing they knew of his desire to oust Jai from his throne. While far from the only manthri acting against him, they had determined Sarkar was the pack leader. They could not figure out what the man’s end goals were though, for all that he was greedy and craved wealth, even he would realize he was ill-suited to governing. He was far too lazy for all the responsibilities the crown bore.

No, it was better to pretend they were ignorant of the conspiracies running through his court. Until they had solid evidence and a better idea of all the players in the game, it would be reckless and foolish to confront Sarak directly now.

The following few days had been a similar ordeal of patience, with Jai grinding his teeth enough to give himself headaches. He knew he had asked for the 'Raavana' reputation to be spread beyond their borders, but it galled him that even within his own lands, his people looked at him in fear.

Easier to manipulate people to turn against a king they believed to be the cause of their misfortunes, after all.

By the time it was their day of departure, Jai was ready to crawl out of his skin, given how much anger he was keeping pent up. Kaakha had tried to suggest perhaps they should delay their return until the building storm had passed, but one glance at Jai's wild look had him keeping his mouth shut.

Jai had held back until they had crossed out of the manthri's lands before pressing hard on Ahilan’s side, and torn down the path. It was unwise to leave his retinue behind when he was technically still not in friendly territory but he almost hoped some assassin would try their mettle against him at that point.

Some bloodshed might provide relief for the storm beneath his skin.

He had been severe on Ahilan, pushing him till the animal was almost collapsing. Only catching his breath as Ahilan struggled with his, Jai had led them to the nearby river and let the animal drink water and rest. They waited till his retinue caught up with him, and Jai listened to Kaakha's scolding with a twinge of shame. He had covered more ground during his mad dash than he'd expected, and if they could maintain a steady trot, could be in the palace by nightfall.

Of course the sky had decided to come falling down on them in the last stretch to the palace, in the open road. With no other option the riders had continued till they reached the palace well past the middle of the night.

By then most of the anger had been banked, transforming into a bone deep weariness. He could not recall actively handing the reins of Ahilan to one of the stablehands, nor how his feet carried him to a bedroom that wasn't his own. He did remember the way Bhairava had pressed a blade to his throat, and how his voice had broken through the fog in Jai's brain.

"-raj? Maharaj!" Kaakha hissed sharply, similarly bringing Jai back to the present. Kaakha looked at him with a curious expression, but Jai focused on the scene in front of him. Clearing his throat, he spoke. "Well? Has an agree-," Jai paused to swallow the stammer in his tongue, "-ment been reached?"

Both ministers looked mullish but they nodded begrudgingly. Jai sighed. If only he could actually order them as he wished. Or this squabble didn’t inevitably cause problems in another few weeks. "Very well. I will see you at the Rajyasabha."

The ministers bowed deeply and exited the meeting chambers. Kaakha, to his credit, waited until the guards had also filed out before rounding on him. "I came to check on you last night. Your bed was empty. What did you do?"

Jai's eyes narrowed. "Spying on me, Kaakha?"

Kaakha bristled. "Quite the contrary, Maharaj. I'm your chief advisor. It's my duty to know of your location and safety at all times. After the ... unfortunate horse incident yesterday, I assumed you'd go straight to bed."

"I did."

Now it was Kaakha's turn to narrow his eyes. "And where might that be, may I know?"

Jai shrugged. "It's not important. I'm going to see Ahilan now."

"But Maharaj!" Kaakha cried out to his back. Jai quickened his pace. He knew he was being unreasonable, and Kaakha was right to be anxious. But all he wanted to do was get away from all these politics for a bit.

And maybe find some more ... pleasing company.

///

Notes:

“Om Nama Sivaya” - The mantra is the ultimate prayer to Lord Shiva, translating roughly to “Salutations to Lord Shiva”

Aarthi - Hindu ritual employed in worship, often part of puja, in which fire/light is offered to one or more deities.

Theertham - Sacred water offered to devotees, often infused with tulsi (mint) leaves

Shivling or Shiva Lingam - The Linga idol is the most common way in which Lord Shiva is represented in worship.

Manthri - Minister

Rajyasabha - Gathering held by the king with all their ministers

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#rrr #taoat #jairava #jai x bhairava #jai kumar #kala bhairava #bhairava #jai lava kusa #magadheera #my fic #my writing

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larvasmoon · 8 months

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Portrait of the pale elf (5)- He, who is the dagger

Chapter summary : Selene visits Astarion in his manor, finally starting his portrait, but things quickly go downhill as the night unfolds.

Word count : 6,5 k

Trigger Warnings : Blood. Biting (of course). Dry Humping. Inappropriate use of an armour. Mentions of death.

Author's note : This chapter has taken a little bit more time and effort to write than usual. I wanted it to be as perfect as possible because it's a turning point in the relationship between Selene and Astarion. I've written this installment while listening to Sky Ferreira's haunting and gothic song "Downhill Lullaby". I think it perfectly encapsulates the mood I've been trying to set in this chapter.

Thank you so much if you follow this story. It always touches me so deeply when I realize that what I've written has actually reached someone !

As always, here's my AO3 darling

The full moon, wrapped in a coat of misty clouds, shone bright over Selene’s head. It was close to midnight, and she shivered under the hood of her mantle. Her fingers tingled with the cold, numb around the heavy wooden box in which she carried a blank canvas and her folded easel. Slung across her chest was a bundle of brown linen, full with her paintbrushes, paint paddle and charcoal sticks.

She had never ventured in this part of the higher city, a section of Baldur’s Gate where the imposing manors could as well have been called castles. Wherever her eyes landed, the scenery was eerily beautiful, full of dark charms that she naively attributed to the witching hour.

One particular mansion caught her eyes and she stopped in her tracks, thinking to herself that it would make a fine painting decor.

Its high tower seemed to climb high into the celestial sky, the silver glow of the moon pooling on the black tiles of the roof like a soft caress. The rest of the facade was made of a surprisingly dark stone, adorned with the cruel faces of many gargoyles, lurking under the roof’s shadow, or stretching out their clawed hands from the balcony railings. Their toothy grins and penetrating eyes, permanently carved into the onyx like stone, made her so uneasy that she instinctively took a few steps back. Through the sumptuous oriel windows, she could see the flickering of a lit chandelier, illuminating the mouldings of a scarlet ceiling, bleeding red into the night.

She was about to set off once again when she noticed the small metal plate next to the manor’s gates. Selene had to squint her eyes to make out the name of the house, written in Thorass : “ The gothic serenade”.

“ It’s the last mansion of the avenue”, Astarion had said with a wry smile, “ you can’t miss it”.

She chuckled when she noticed that after this one manor, the street took a turn, and a fleet of stairs led back to the wide commercial avenues in which Carmine Red was.

A bit cliché for a vampire’s manor , she mused, I didn’t take Astarion for the predictable type, he’s usually so full of surprises.

The gate was already unlocked. When she softly gave it a push, it silently opened to reveal a small garden full of enchanted red roses, in full bloom even in the cold of winter. As she walked up the winding path, the cold branches of a tall weeping willow grazed her cheek, like a lover’s hand.

The door flew open before she had even reached its steps, and the bright lights inside the house illuminated Astarion’s elegant silhouette.

“There you are. I was expecting you, darling.”

He was wearing a simple white shirt and black breeches, gracefully leaning on the threshold of his humble abode.

It felt strange to hear his voice in the wide open air, outside of the loud spaces of taverns, or the hushed and intimate boutique that was Carmine Red. There, in the obscurity, it sounded electrifying. Its deeper tones made her senses more alert, as if some repressed part of her subconscious was in fact well aware of his true nature.

“I apologise, I’m running late, I got lost in the streets” she sheepishly answered, climbing up the few steps with slightly flushed cheeks.

The vampire helped her inside, taking the heavy box from her hands like it weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

“Oh no need to apologise, dear. I should be thanking you for coming at such a late hour. I hope you’re not too exhausted.”

The inside of his home was decorated in a similar fashion to Carmine Red : the walls and ceilings were painted in a deep burgundy red, the floor was covered in red persian rugs, black lacquered furniture was scattered about the room, and here and there she spotted a few vases filled with dry everlasting flowers.

However, the artist in her couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t a single painting on the high walls of his place.

Not even a boring still-life painting or outfashioned scenery. Nothing.

And while his tailor shop had felt comforting and warm to her, the manor was a paler and colder reflection of it. As if Astarion was barely a passing shadow in those wide spaces. Not even staying long enough for his scent to linger in the air, the way it had last time she’d visited him.

“It’s no problem, I usually don’t sleep a lot anyway” she confessed, gasping when he leaned closer to unclasp her cloak around her neck and slide it off her shoulders.

“Can I offer you something to drink ? A little something to keep you awake through the night ?” he proposed, already treading away into a corner of the living room and rummaging through a cabinet, “I must warn you though, the tea I make is absolutely awful!”

“What would you suggest ?”

Her feet carried her towards a black chest of drawers. On top of it was a set of daggers, displayed on a luxurious ivory stand. The handles were mesmerising, covered in a multitude of expensive stones : rubies, amethysts, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds. They glittered and shimmered in the candlelights, and she wondered how such a magnificent thing could have been made to kill.

So much refinement and beauty, poured into a weapon destined to extinguish life... She couldn’t tell whether it’d be cruel or sweet, to be on the receiving end of its sharpness, and have the glint of gemstones be your last vision before death’s embrace.

“Wine. Red preferably. I have quite the collection.”

Her fingers moved on their own, and she carefully dragged them along the blunt edge of the beautifully curved blades. They were soft and cool to the touch, like their owner’s skin.

In a flash, he’d crossed the room, and was standing right beside her. His slender hands grabbed her own, and strayed her away from the daggers.

“Careful darling, don’t cut yourself”, he spoke through gritting teeth, with a faltering voice she struggled to recognize.

A crack in his sophisticated mask, she thought. She’d grown used to the low purr of his voice, to the dandyish inflection of it, and to the confidence with which he always spoke. This quiet trepidation felt so strange, so out of character, that she was a little bit taken aback.

What if this warning was destined to him, just as much as it was to her ? Did he not trust himself enough to resist the sight of her blood ? A chill ran down her spine at the thought of such implications.

For a few seconds, she pondered whether this was all in fact a very bad idea, being alone in a blood thirsty vampire’s manor, so far into the night that the streets of the higher city were empty. She thought about taking back her things, and her mind raced with all sorts of pitiful excuses she could invent to run back to her apartment, like the coward she’d spent most of her life being.

And yet, she remained silent and still, looking at the beauty of his milky and delicate hands around her stained and unkept painter’s fingers.

She could never be enough of a fool to turn down the unhoped-for opportunity to paint him, no matter how undeserving she felt of it.

Her, the insignificant painter with no name to herself, tainted with things that no amount of water could ever clean. And him, the beautiful beyond reason creature, with skin of alabaster and eyes of molten fire.

“Oh but I didn’t, see ?” she reassured Astarion, turning her hand in his grasp to show the tips of her blackened fingers, permanently sullied by the use of charcoal sticks, “I shouldn’t have touched them without asking though, I’m sorry.”

She tore her eyes away from their intertwined hands, and stared at him for the first time of the evening. His claret eyes were at least two shades darker than usual, even under the bright glow of the lit chandeliers. There was no light in the gaze that he kept eerily fixed on her fingers, and she wondered what kind of thoughts were going through this pretty and dangerous head of his.

She found that she didn’t mind if they were of the bloody kind, if it meant that she could capture his essence and trap it into paint.

“They’re breathtaking. Do they have a story ? I feel like they would, with such an intricate design” she gently inquired again, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he moved away and cleared his throat.

The vampire slowly sauntered back towards the cabinet, filling two goblets with a wine so red it almost looked black when it poured out of the bottle.

“It’s a souvenir from my old glorious days” he sniffed, not without a hint of bitterness, “those blades have seen just as much blood as my hands have, but I’d rather not see them tainted with yours.”

As he talked, Selene found herself dreaming of that version of him she had never seen.

Astarion in armour, fighting an army of relentless enemies.

She imagined that back then, in combat as in the voluptuous atmosphere of a boudoir, each and every one of his movements must’ve been painfully sultry.

An apex predator, moving with the grace of a feline when closing in on an unwitting prey. He’d carve into their flesh with a fervour of a lover, rhythmically and precisely, until they’d come undone. The droplets of blood, spurting all around him, would be like the many rose petals thrown on a stage by the cheering crowd, after the final of his dance macabre.

The thought of him covered in blood did something to her lower belly that she chose to ignore.

No , it’d make a fine painting, nothing more.

When he handed her her glass, she admired his form one last time, and decided it was time for her to do what she’d initially come for.

“So, how would you like for me to paint you, Astarion ?” she abruptly asked, crouching down to unpack her blank canvas.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes settled on her once again, clear and taunting like a cat’s. “Well, in the nude, of course, darling.”

Selene’s hands stilled around the last latch of the box, her mind conjuring obscene and sensual images of him posing on a bed of red silk. He’d have the body of a marble statue, sculptural yet strong. She could almost see the outlines of his muscles under his thin white shirt.

The tip of her pointy ears burnt from how much she was blushing.

She’d done a few nude paintings back when she was still a student. They’d always been done with female models, because Damian foolishly didn’t see fit for a young girl to practise in any other way. As an adolescent, she’d seen countless beautiful women au naturel, tieflings, elves, humans with all shades of hair and skin. She’d spent countless hours painting the round lines of their breasts, the curves of their closed thighs, or the hollow of their barely concealed groins.

She’d drawn a naked man for the first time, much later. Her own lover, the first and only she’d ever had. He was named Lucius, a wood elf that hadn’t stayed in the city long enough to be with her more than a few weeks. Selene had made the best out of it though, now and then sketching his naked body in the crumpled sheets of the bed he’d just made love to her into.

None of this had ever made her blush, but the thought of a very naked Astarion had.

The vampire wheezed beside her, bending down from how much he was laughing.

“I’m teasing you, love. You should’ve seen your face, it was hilarious” he crackled, wiping tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes.

Selene sighed, running her hands through her long hair, and did her best to think about anything but his unclothed body. “No, I mean- is there any particular way you’d like for me to represent you ?”

“You’re the painter, I’ll leave it up to you”, he shrugged, eagerly drinking from his glass, “In whatever room of this house, and in whatever attire, I’m all yours.”

She looked over at the daggers once again, and thought that the only right way to paint him would be with them in hand.

“Do you still have any armour ?” she absent mindedly asked, already rummaging through her supplies, “I’d like to paint you in one of them, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’m sorry but did I offend you with my joke, darling ? Because you’re certainly going for the complete opposite” he huffed, almost offended.

He pointed at his body with wide and agitated movements. “None of this will be visible, and I’m curious to see what it looks like, mind you !”

“It doesn’t have to be anything bulky, or heavy… maybe just something made out of leather ?”

“And here I thought you’d want to paint me in see-through silk, arched or bent in suggestive positions” he mocked, looking at her as though she’d just said the most asinine thing he’d ever heard.

She contemplated explaining to him in great detail the symbolism of him dressed in armour, or the way she thought that, from time to time, he used his beauty as a weapon or a protection of sorts. But, it seemed a bit insensitive to tell this to someone who had felt like they needed to shield themselves from the world in the first place.

So she settled for the more obvious reasons.

“I have something in mind” she softly said, getting up to be at eye level with him once again, “Trust me, you’ll be able to see each and every detail of your appearance.”

Her dark eyes roamed his face and body, picking it apart as if she was already at work.

“Each of your eyelashes, and beauty marks. Each of your silver curls. And each of the elegantly concealed shapes of your body.”

He looked back at her with the same intensity, his burning eyes lowering to stare at her lips each time she uttered a new word.

“But I’m not only painting what I see. A teacher of mine once said that painting a portrait is capturing the essence of one’s soul. And I don’t need you to be naked, or posing in a provocative way for that.”

A strange and pained expression flickered across his face, disappearing as quick as it had appeared.

Selene walked back to the displayed daggers, talking with her back to him. “A dark and foreboding armour on a soft and ethereal body, sharp and dangerous daggers in dainty fingers. I think it is fitting when portraying a being of contradiction like yourself. ”

She heard him follow her, each of his lithe steps on the floorboard, until he was standing right behind her.

“ A being of contradiction ? How so ?” he breathed on her neck, and she shivered.

“ Someone who is beautiful, but equally lethal.”

There was a beat of silence in the room, as she continued to admire the magnificent hilts of the daggers.

“Follow me darling, there’s something I’d like to show you” he finally said, turning away to disappear at the corner of a long and dark corridor.

Much later into the night, Selene finally set her easel into place. It was such a strange feeling to prepare herself to paint at a time she would have usually been curled up in her bed, dreaming strange dreams.

The fear she had grown accustomed to, every time she was about to draw, was nowhere to be seen. She felt unusually calm and content, eager to start painting.

Earlier, Astarion had led her into a small room, filled with tokens of his heroic past : rapiers of every size, pretty vials of poison, heavy crossbows, and mannequins dressed in various combat apparels. She had immediately decided that it was the perfect atmosphere and decor for what she had in mind. There were no chandeliers in there, just one lit candelabra and the glow of the full moon. Its rays entered the room through the open window and illuminated the red armchair in which Astarion would later sit. The small space felt gloomy and intimate, like she’d pictured it should be.

As soon as she had entered the room, she’d spotted a sumptuous armour of leather plates. It was blacker than black, strapped and buckled in different places, adorned with many silver details that glowed in the obscurity.

Astarion had unwillingly accepted to wear it, after a little bit of convincing on Selene’s part. As per her request, he had also replaced the original leather cape of the armour with a scrap piece of red silk he’d kept from a dress he had finished a while ago. He’d carefully attached it to the silver chain that was slung across the mannequin’s chest, before silently slipping away to put the armour on.

When he entered the room once again, Selene was just finishing setting her canvas on the easel. All clad in black as he was, from head to toes, the sight of him nearly took her breath away. The atmosphere in the room shifted as he drew closer, as if darkness itself was shrinking away and retreating in front of night incarnate.

Each piece of leather seemed to have been stitched and riveted directly around his body, enveloping his limbs so perfectly it left close to nothing to the imagination. His hair looked even lighter, against all that black, seemingly made of rays of moonlight, or other godly materials. The long piece of scarlet silk, delicately draped over his shoulder, cascaded down the length of his back and legs, until it pooled at his feet like a puddle of blood.

Astarion took a few lithe steps towards the chair and sat in front of her, as she arranged her supplies on a little table he’d placed near her canvas. He looked glorious in every possible way, and Selene had trouble concentrating on her tasks.

The vampire kept his eyes trained on each of her movements, a strange intensity in his gaze that she didn’t know how to interpret.

Once she was done, her feet carried her to him, hesitantly looking at his posture.

“May I touch you ? I’d like to adjust everything before we start.”

His red eyes widened a little bit at her question, before he regained his composure and crossed his legs.

“Oh please do, darling” he purred, a dangerous smile playing on his lips, as if he were begging for something different, in a very different context.

Selene’s hands reached for the vampire, touching him in ways she never would’ve never dared to otherwise.

She brushed a silver curl away from his forehead, with a softness that almost would have looked tender to any onlooker. The tips of her fingers came to rest under his chin, gently tilting his head to the side. Delicately holding his forearms and angling them on the armrest, she then took his hands in her own and placed them on his lap. One of them was made to hold the dagger he’d brought from downstairs, the blade tentatively resting against his thigh.

Finally, Selene kneeled at his feet, fixing the silk until she was satisfied with the way it rested on the floor.

While she was busy arranging his cape, she felt his own fingers reaching out for her hair, softly pushing her heavy curly hair away from her neck and letting them fall down her back. They lingered for a few seconds on her nape, lusciously feeling her bones and the start of her spine.

“You should tie them up, so they’re out of the way” his silky voice said from above her, and she heard the rushed and loud beating of her own heart in her ears.

When she got up, red as a peony, he had a particularly vampish smile playing on his lips.

“Are you comfortable ? Do you feel like you could stay like this for a while ?”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, darling” he stared up at her through his lashes, a dangerous flame dancing in his eyes, “I am well versed in the art of maintaining a variety of positions , all night long if need be. ”

Astarion’s blatant flirting wasn’t lost on Selene, it had never been, but she did not really know how to respond to it. She usually settled for pathetic smiles and flushed cheeks, like an inexperienced maiden.

She had quickly gathered that part of being a good painter was spending a lot of time observing people, and dissecting them, so that part of their temperament would transpire on their features. And yet, on most occasions, talking to the vampire felt to her like fumbling in the dark, unsure of where to go or of what to say. No matter how hard she tried, Selene couldn’t tell where his mask of flamboyance began, and where it ended. She just knew it existed, and maybe it was already enough in itself.

Sometimes his pretty words sounded like the practised lines of a skillful actor on the stage of the city’s luxurious theatre, at others they rang true in ways she had not expected. Those rare moments were like ripples at the surface of water, and she longed to dive in the murky waters of his mind to see what kind of secrets rested at the bottom of it.

“We shall begin then” she uttered, more to herself than to Astarion, and she came back to stand behind her canvas.

Selene grabbed one of her brushes, inelegantly sticking it into the messy bun she’d curled her hair into. Faintly, she heard Astarion sigh, in what mistakenly sounded like impatience.

With a deft hand, she started tracing stark and dark lines. In the silence of the room echoed the familiar melody of the charcoal stick grazing the canvas, with each quick flick of her wrist. Every time she looked back at him, his ruby eyes hadn’t left her, unwavering.

When he talked once again, his voice sounded somehow mellower. “Come to think of it, I have never asked you your full name.”

Her movements halted, her hand suspended above the piercing eyes she’d just finished sketching.

“It’s just Selene” she answered, failing to completely conceal the emotion in her voice, “I’m an orphan”.

The tip of her finger lightly rubbed the canvas, blurring a shadow under his eyebrow. She was as delicate with the drawing as she was with him, as if it was Astarion himself that she was touching with the staining edge of her stick.

“Why did you never commission one of our city’s greater painters to draw your portrait ? Before I offered to draw your portrait I mean -” she asked in turn, clearly eager to talk about something else.

“I don’t particularly relish being in the company of artists, you are an exception” he snickered, and the way he tapped his foot while he talked, made her think of the way cats tap their tail when they are bothered by something.

His backhanded compliment still somehow found its way to her heart, and she smiled while focusing on the lines of his sophisticated curls.

Selene’s only gateway into the very private and elitist circle of baldurian artists had only been Damian, and she’d lived in his shadow for years. He had given her little to no opportunity to converse with the famous painters she sometimes saw at parties or gatherings. She’d guessed it was because he was too afraid that she’d talk too much and reveal things that should be kept secret.

If her master was anything like the rest of them, she could only agree with Astarion though.

“You’ll probably think that I am a terrible bore, but I don’t mingle that much with fellow painters, so I can’t really agree or disagree” she explained, ticking when she realised her rendition of his perfect jaw was, in fact, far from being perfect.

“Is it because of Fallheel ? Does he forbid you to talk to others like he forbid you to talk to me ? ” he harshly inquired, and the tone of his voice made her lift her eyes from her sketch once again.

Yes of course, she thought, but she found herself instinctively shaking her head when she answered. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

A low sarcastic chuckle. “Oh on the contrary, you know exactly what I’m implying, darling”, the vampire grew agitated on his chair, forgetting to stay still and playing with the blade of the dagger that was in his lap, “the man is pathetic, so unsure of himself, that he’s scared you’d run off or choose a new master if you socialised more.”

“Can you stay just like that ? Playing with the dagger” she excitedly asked, “ yes, yes, that’s even better than before !”

He rolled his eyes but obliged her nonetheless, the ghost of a smile on his delicious lips.

Hours went on like this, with a few words exchanged between them, and Selene feverishly drawing to finish her sketch before the sun was up in the city's sky.

And surely enough, it did rise, slowly at first, barely illuminating the stratosphere and filling it with indigo blue clouds.

It reminded her of a story they used to tell to children at the orphanage, the tragic tale of the sun and the moon. She remembered how Amalia, the elderly headmistress, told them about that ballad that she had written in her youth, when she was still a bard. She’d called it “the greatest and saddest love. It began with her tremulous voice whispering : “ the moon and the sun are lovers, but to love from afar is to love bitterly”. At the end of every night, the moon quickly would sadly retreat to the horizon, still there when the first rays shone at the other side of the world, as if to cast one last desperate look behind her. At the beginning of every day, the sun would hurry at the doors of the sky, to steal one look at the beauty of the lady of the night. For a few glorious seconds, the two planets would be face to face, like forbidden lovers destined to always distantly cross paths and condemned to long for things they could never have.

It reminded her of him , as she drew the last detailed bit of the decor behind his silhouette.

Outside, she could hear carriages passing through the avenue and the hooves of the horses stomping on the pavement. A few voices echoed in the streets, as baldurians either began a long day, or came home after an even longer night.

“The sun is almost up, darling, you should probably go home,” Astarion wearily said, hauling himself to his feet, “before someone sees you scandalously coming out of my house at the cracks of dawn.”

He elegantly stood up and strode to close the window. Gripping the thick curtains, he lingered there for a little more, eyes lost in the sky with the most hearwenching expression she’d ever seen him make. The blue light that highlighted the contour of his profile gave her a glimpse of what he’d look like in the sun, and something in her chest did a strange summersault.

“I’ve finished the sketching part” she softly declared, letting her charcoal stick fall into its metallic box, and wiping her hands, “ Do you wish to see it now, or when it’ll be painted ?”

This seemed to pick his interest and in one swift motion, he drew the curtains and engulfed them in the dark once again.

“I’ve never been one for suspense. Show me, love” he growled, eyes wide and sparkly in the dim lights.

Selene stepped aside, suddenly shy and doubtful. At times, when drawing him, she’d felt as though he was so painfully beautiful that any attempt at recreating his features would be fruitless at best, and ridiculous at worst.

Astarion’s eyes roamed the canvas, slowly, silently, his lips trembling as if he were trying to articulate words. He exhaled once, one shallow breath that fanned across her hair. She felt his body shake right beside her, the leather of his armour crackling with each of his imperceptible movements.

After a few agonising seconds, he smiled wide and bright, and Selene’s kness almost buckled from how relieved she was.

“Do you like it ?” she timidly asked, her dirty fingers fidgeting with the cloth she was still holding.

The vampire turned to stare at her, “If I like it ?” he chortled, drawing near and taking her face in his hands, “I adore it, you absurdly talented woman.”

Her flushed cheeks burnt against the cold of his palm, and when she looked into his scarlet eyes, she realised they were wet with tears.

“Everything about this is exquisite. I understand why Fallheel wants to keep you all to himself” he breathed, his lips almost brushing against her own when he talked.

“I’m gla-” Selene started, but suddenly she felt something roll under the sole of her shoe, sending her flying backward.

A piece of charcoal, most likely.

The world titled and turned, as she pathetically failed to find anything to cling to.

In an instant, one of Astarion’s powerful arms closed around her waist, pressing her flush against the hard plane of his chest. The cold clasps of his armour deliciously digging into the skin of her breasts, naked under her flowy shirt.

She had stupidly decided not to wear a bodice the night prior, as it would constrict and dig into her ribcage when she spent hours hunched over a painting.

They tumbled to the ground, a muffled groan coming out of her mouth when her back gently hit the carpeted floor.

Astarion had fallen on top of her, kneeling between her legs and holding himself up on one arm. His other hand firmly held her hip, his thumb resting on the naked skin of her lower belly, right above the laces of her breeches.

“Ah well, look how good your charcoal drawing is, darling,” he said with a low chuckle, “you’ve managed to bring me down to my knees.”

She giggled beneath the vampire, so filled with the joy of having done something for him, that she forgot to be embarrassed about the way their bodies were pressed together.

He gingerly caressed her cheek, the pad of his fingers following the lines of her dimples. “You should laugh more, it suits you, you know.”

She watched his gaze trail from her face to her neck, leaving goosebumps on her skin in its wake. His expression slowly morphed into another. The muscles of his jaw growing tight, his irises draining from all their light, and turning into a deep burgundy red, so dark it looked almost black.

An alarm rang somewhere in the back of her mind, like it had so many times since she’d entered his manor the night before. Like some old and primal instinct, plaguing her with the certainty that she was stalked by a deadly creature, flooding her mind with the gripping urge to flee before being stuck under the attack of its teeth and claws.

But once again, she turned a deaf ear to it, too enthralled by the way his pale eyelashes moved with each of his slow blinks, or the sensation of his fingers tracing her collarbones with feather light caresses.

The will to live might have been strong in most living things, but she was sure it was nothing that the softness of his touch could not silence. If Death had had the face of Astarion, odious crowds of wretched and suffering mortal souls would’ve crawled at his feet, ashen and emaciated by the pain of living. Their bony and crooked fingers gripping and tugging at him, as they sang their woes.

Take us, embrace us, for nothing in this life is more glorious than you, who is the end of all.

She talked before she was aware of the words forming on her tongue. “Are you hungry, Astarion ?”

He looked up at her, pupils blown, like two dark orbs in which heard the call of the void.

“Don’t tempt a beast, darling, for it might truly bare its teeth” he snarled, his fangs looking much sharper than usual under the shadow of his lip.

“Show me then“ she breathed, raising her hand to lay it flat on his plated chest, where his heart should’ve been beating, “The beast inside.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying”, he shook his head, pressing his eyes closed, as if he were battling something inside his mind, “It’s all ugly, and it’s ill favoured.”

“Nothing about you could ever be hideous, Astarion” she uttered, truly meaning each and every word, “Not to me.”

She’d always thought so, even when she’d gotten a glimpse of the more sinister parts of him.

Selene’s fingers reached for his forehead, intimately wiping off the sheen of sweat on his skin, and Astarion all but melted into her arms. Yielding to her gentleness.

He pressed his nose against the curve of her neck, breathing along her nape, brushing his soft lips against her skin, until his face was buried in the dark curls of her hair.

“You smell so …” he whispered in her ears, taking another lungful of her scent, “sumptuous.”

His hips fell between her open legs, fitting perfectly, as though he were some missing piece in the puzzle of her body she didn’t even know she’d lost.

His tongue licked a hot and wet stripe on her pulse, and something like a moan of pain wormed its way out of his chest. “I can almost taste your blood like this, as it rushes and pools under your flushed skin.”

She didn’t know it was possible, but her heart started to beat even faster, something taking flight in her chest and rising to higher spheres.

“Please” she pleaded, her words barely a breath, without really knowing what it was she was begging for exactly.

Astarion lifted his face away from her nape once again, resting his forehead on hers, and staring deep into her eyes. She could see the thin ring of his burning irises around all that darkness.

“Since the day I’ve seen you in that pitiful tavern, I’ve dreamt of it. I’ve had visions of you, and visions of me having you the way I please.”

His hand tightened around the hollow of her waist as he talked, bringing her impossibly closer, even though they were already tightly embracing each other.

“But it’s nothing tender, you see. I’m no longer capable of such things. They are full of blood and death, the kind of kisses I give” he breathed against her lips, almost taking her mouth then and there, and she drunkenly inhaled the air that came out of his lungs.

“I’ve always loved a kiss with teeth”, her hand stroked his silver hair, admiring the softness of his curl, “ So kiss me, Astarion.”

His eyes widened, irises ablaze with scorching flames, and he placed a river of small kisses from the corner of her mouth to her nape.

She laid there, staring at the red ceiling of the room. Desire and fear coiled in her belly, as she waited for a sting that she knew was coming.

And all at once, it was there.

A sharp pain that tore a sob out of her. Her back arched off the floor, and Astarion’s hips buckled into her when he swallowed her blood for the first time. It tingled where his teeth were, each wave of pain turning into a pulsating sensation that had wetness pooling between her legs.

Her neck had always been a weak spot of hers, a part of her body where her nerves seemed to acutely pick up on each friction and stroke. She knew she would have come just from a few of his kisses and love bites but … this was different. The addictive blend of pain and pleasure that he was inflicting on her, had her toes curling and her vision blurring with ecstasy.

The vampire growled, deep and vicious, his pointy ear twitching against her cheek with each gulp of blood. His soft hair tickled her chin, like silk upon her skin, and it deliciously contrasted with the brutality of his teeth in her flesh.

Distantly, she heard his hand violently slam on the floor next to her head, nails scraping the surface and clawing at the wood, instead of tearing her skin apart. He pressed further into her, suddenly crushing her hips with lascivious thrusts that had her chasing a release she didn’t even know was already building deep in her core.

She gripped the straps on his shoulders, stars dancing in the corners of her vision.

“Ah-Astarion, I’m-” she whined, as he started licking and sucking at her wound with open-mouthed kisses.

His cold hand travelled up her torso, like water sipping through the fabric of her cotton shirt, until it reached her breasts. It stopped at first, trembling as if he were realising that she wasn’t wearing any corset under her button down, before he kneaded and pinched her hard nipples with a renewed vigour.

Each time his hips picked up speed, her clothed slit tantalizingly glided along the buckle of his belt, sending bolts of electricity at the base of her spine. Astarion was making love to her with and through his armour, each of his movements under the constricting leather of his attire sending her down a spiral of suffocating pleasure.

Thighs twitching uncontrollably, something recoiling in her belly with the promise of a shattering return, Selene let out a string of chocked moans.

He groaned once, his hips slowing at the same time as her body convulsed and exploded around him. His thighs flexed under her own, and the thought of his coming in his leather pants had her spasming for a little bit longer under him.

Astarion slowly unlatched from her neck, mouth and cheeks smeared with gore. His hands cupped her face, coaxing her eyes open with caresses and kisses on her flushed cheeks.

“Are you still with me, darling ?” he sweetly asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Selene didn’t know whether she’d come or died, or both. She uttered an intelligible answer, nodding through the afterglow of her orgasm. She felt weak and dazed, convinced that she’d float out of her body if Astarion wasn’t holding her onto the ground.

“You, my sweet, are the most divine thing I have tasted”, he murmured, lapping at a drop of blood that dripped across her neck when she’d turned her head, “you’ve given me so much tonight that I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I could say the same thing” she whispered, wiping a bit of the blood that was dripping from his lips.

He sighed before bringing her hands to his lips, languorously licking the red smears that she had collected on her thumb. His eyes looked like rubies once again, shimmering in the dark, maybe even brighter than before.

“Come on, let’s clean you up.”

The last thing she felt before the world went black, was the strong set of Astarion’s arms closing under back and legs, and lifting her off the ground. Her head fell on his shoulder, the sweet and vibrant scent of him lulling her to sleep.

In the swirling darkness of her closed eyes, she dreamt that she was splattering buckets of crimson paint on the walls of a blank and empty room. Hands and brushes drenched with it, singing and dancing in the red, she felt happy.

Free .

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