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monsterfuckerconfessions · 10 months

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You are the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; when a mix of common folk and soldiers drag you from your bed you are already resigned to whatever fate they have chosen for you. You are dragged out in your sheer silk nightwear and forced to your knees in the mud of the main road. Glancing up you see the figures opposite, the enemy, the great hulking orcs your husband angered. Above you, you hear frantic talking - frantic, useless. None of you speak their tongue.

Finally, in desperation, you crawl forward and bow your head, pulling your hair aside to bare your neck. Surely that cannot be misunderstood. You are willing to give your life for peace. The townspeople are hardly going to let you live either way.

(You are the chieftain of an orc clan reluctantly drawn into this skirmish as a matter of honour, and when the humans drag out a small, helpless one of their own and offer it you hesitate. It is dressed in silk and wears jewels at its neck and throat, which means it is important. As grotesque as the practice is to you, your sense of pride, you know they often exchange hostages between themselves. You glance at your second, who visibly rolls her eyes but nods. Any excuse to go home.)

The orcs do not kill you there and then, but take you; you cannot tell yet if that is a mercy or a misfortune. You are bound at the wrists and ankles and flung over an orc soldier's shoulder like a sack of grain, and passed between many of them during the journey. In their own language they joke and laugh as they pass you over, sometimes pinching at the bare skin of your thigh where your clothes have hitched up.

At their camp you are deposited in the tent of the chieftain. You have heard rumours of what they do with captives, and between being ravaged until broken or eaten alive you do not know what to hope for. You merely lie there, limp and trembling slightly, until you hear the sound of someone entering. The hulking orc chieftain looks at you, tusked face unreadable, then drags you upright by a fistful of your hair to briefly press a flask to your lips. When you have gulped nearly all the water he drops you, grunts and leaves. He does not return to the tent the entire night. You know this, because the low buzzing terror in the back of your mind doesn't let you sleep.

(You hardly know what to do with the little thing. Your comrades say it is easy to carry but odd, it is full grown by the look of it but doesn't struggle at all or even try to bargain in its babbling little language. Maybe it is unwell. You order it placed in your tent and give it water yourself, but it shows no more signs of life, dull-eyed and staring at nothing. You decide to let it sleep and go back outside to drink until you pass out under the stars and the warm summer skies.)

On the second night you are taken to a river before camp, and following the example of those around you, you wash yourself; as you return to the riverbank you find your clothes gone. The orcs watch you, even the smallest of them half-again your size. You swallow your fear and walk naked back to the chieftain's tent. Once there you lower yourself to your hands and knees on the bedroll, bare skin still damp from the water. You cannot stop him from taking you, but perhaps it will hurt less or be over faster if you comply.

The orcs chieftain makes a brief, almost hissing sound at the sight of you, but does not leave this time. Their hand brushes across your back and you can feel their claws retracting. They touch and inspect you like a prize hound and you keep your eyes to the ground, tears of shame welling up. Then he presses two large, blunt fingers inside you, and you brace yourself. He fingerfucks you lazily for a minute or so before suddenly growling something you don't understand and turning you on your back, so you scramble to reposition yourself and hold your legs wide. He cradles your face in both his hands as he slowly sinks his swollen cock into you, larger than you think you could ever take and stretching you painfully yet unable to look away from his face. Your husband used to force you to look at him like this only when he wanted to watch you cry, so you brace yourself for the firm hold to turn into hard slaps that leave your ears ringing.

(The little thing washes with the others and you are approaching the tent with an armful of fabric in what you hope is close to their size when you are hit with the unexpected sight of them uncovered in your tent, positioned as any orc begging to be bred would be. You have to smother a gasp and restrain yourself; it has been too long, and little thing's fragile shape and delicate features are somehow all the more appealing for their strangeness. But you were raised well, taught that all parties must agree before partners bed each other; you don't know their tongue to ask them. You seek permission from their body language instead, first touching their back, the curve of their ass and leg, then with tentative fingers in their soft tight little hole. They do not flinch or try to flee, and they wetten for your fingers. Surely you can continue? Forgetting yourself you ask out loud.)

You wait to be hit. It doesn't happen. You wait to used rough and hurt inside; it doesn't happen either.

The looming figure of the great orc warrior above you moves with an almost incongruous care, pressing into you slowly and then simply resting there until your body becomes accustomed enough to his huge cock that he can start to move without tearing you. It's almost as if his gaze on your face is tracking the small hitched breaths or softening of your expression to know when he can begin to carefully thrust. Yet that makes no sense to you. Men have never used you so gentle, why would a savage orc do so?

He is big enough it does hurt some little but that sensation is soon overwhelmed by another, unfamiliar and disorienting; a low heat building your abdomen, a curl of pleasure that makes you whimper. Another growl comes in response, so you try to quieten, but his expression - it is so hard to read, so different, but he does not look angry.

(You are confused and troubled, but the tight heat of the little thing is so perfect around your cock. They are acting like a new prospective mate, taking your body like a mate would, but when you watch their face to try and find the answers you'd normally seek out loud there is something missing. You fuck them very gently, as such delicate pretty things should be treated, and forget yourself enough to apologise out loud when they whimper. You promise them in words they don't know that you want to make them feel good, you will stop if they struggle even once, that they are safe with you.)

The orc chief finishes with a single deep thrust and you can feel your abdomen swell with how filled you are, a little of their cum already beginning to leak down your thighs. He pulls away and you instinctively curl in on yourself, protective - the sound he makes in response is urgent but more distressed than angry. He paws at you to uncurl, look at him again; as you tilt your face up and force your body to relax he huffs and lowers his great head between your legs. Before you can even process it his rough tongue is on you, and you can feel the smooth dangerous weight of his tusks against your inner thighs. The rush of banked pleasure is equally unexpected, as he coaxes a climax from you that leaves you shaking. Afterward you are gathered up like a doll in his arms, and for the first time in three days actually believe you may be safe. Very, very, tentatively, you reach for his face and pause halfway in question.

(The little thing flinches only afterwards, but it does flinch and you immediately fight back a rush of guilt and worry. Rank be damned, the clan will not stand for taking any person unwilling, even a human one. You try to comfort them with small touches, check their face for signs of what's wrong. They are unreadable. You check between their legs and can tell they did not quite find pleasure yet, so quickly duck your head to correct it. Perhaps that is what was wrong, because when their body responds they do not flinch away from being held close. They even reach for your face, and after you nod encouragingly they trace their tiny fingers over the ridges of your skin and kiss nervously at the smooth curve of your tusk. You thrill, but say nothing; maybe they have no idea what an intimate gesture that is. You just happily nestle close.)

You were the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; now, it seems, you are claimed by the warrior chief who bested him and the bedmate of a mighty orc who is gentler with you than said husband ever was and - slightly endearingly - buries his face in the crook of your neck with a low rumbling sound not unlike a purr when sleepy and post-coital.

#monsterfucker confessions

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the-monkeies-girl · 3 months

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Snow Kissed Skin. ( Ceasar x Human! Reader, POTA Oneshot. )

A prequel to Flame Kissed Skin. Part of the Touching their Fur for the first time series. Up next: Noa.

Title: Snow Kissed Skin. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Implied! Caesar x Human!Reader. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications but nothing too heavy here. ) Words: 5.7K+ Summary: You wanted to know what Ape Fur felt like and Caesar always seemed to be around during these times to cure your curiosity.

READ IT ON AO3.

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It truly felt like your fingers were going to pop off despite their proximity to the blazed bonfire. Cupped lightly with wool mittens that you had scavenged shortly after the Flu, one of your most prized possessions as they never lost each other in all their years, the swirling of the colors of purples and grays fuzed together with a fuzzy outline were captivating enough to keep your attention focused so you didn't move your feet and slide down the rocks face first.

Or back first depending if you were quick enough to catch yourself. That would… Not be fun to see, you imagined and cringed at the visual inside of your mind of your butt parading down and carving your backside with cold snow as you let out shrieking screams.

Peering over your left shoulder at the rested perch above the Colony’s communal area, there was nothing to see. You figured. With no official business to attend to on the snowy afternoon you found yourself dancing in, there was really no need for a council meeting. You doubted that Caesar… Would think it was very impressive to see you fall as you were careful to turn your head back forward at the lack of Apes for you to meet glances with.

Well… Shoulders rose and fell deeply. Really, only one you wanted to capture a glance with. Only one you had bigger intrigue in since he was the one to allow you to stay with the Colony when you were found, half beaten to death four months ago.

Tugging the disappointment away from your chest that began to blister, you looked beyond the bonfire at the weather itself that seemed to bend around the flames, snowflakes melting before they ever got the chance to kiss the ground. You liked the snow, it was not common in the area as it often favored sleeted rain that made everything slick with abundant moisture and not icey capsules. The cold on the other hand?

You could take it or leave it, considering your small hut did not have a firepit of its own. To no fault of anyone in the Colony, your home was originally a storage hut that was repurposed for your stay with them due to your Humanness, wanting to stay on the ground and not be suspended in air in the nests that lined around the cliff face.

Maybe you’d have to talk to someone about getting yourself a fire, that would require though the entire ceiling to be repurposed for the ashes and plume to escape and building was not something you were particularly great at either. Getting better! Since you started living with the Apes, but still… You were just a Human and never had the knack to do such a thing. It was surely a chance of fate that you managed to survive years after the Flu, never taking solace in other Human Camps and stayed out of the way as sickness that plagued the world ravaged empathy and heart and they so often turned on each other out of spite and amusement.

Not here… The Apes--- The Colony were welcoming to you when Caesar decided to let you stay and for that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere. Well… Most of them were, save for a Bonobo and a few of his Chimp pals that catered to his words of hatred.

That--- Was something that left you with a metallic taste in your mouth but their King was assuring and let you know that Koba would never do anything malicious towards you and would personally see to a punishment if that were the case. Biting your bottom lip, you nibbled at it tentatively and attempted to keep your mind occupied until you got cold enough in the element to return to your hut and scavenge into your animal hides for the evening.

It was hard to not notice the lack of bustling today considering the Colony was usually so full of life with Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Orangutans and Gorillas shoulder to shoulder, eager to get things done for the improvement of their lives, but today? A well deserved break for all of them, your eyes fell shut and enjoyed the sensation of the heat against the thin skin, eyelashes tickling along your cheekbones.

Most of the Apes were bundled in their own homes with each other… How you wished to have that with someone. No one in particular, you tried to convince your train of thought from derailing towards Caesar once more and shuffled your shoulders a bit to cover the bits of your wrist that had popped out to the chilled air.

You probably looked crazy to them in your oversized jacket, layered atop a fleece sweater you managed to score a few years ago when the Winters started to turn for the worst, pink head cap that had to have been a child's but you managed to make it work against your flattened hair and a pair of sturdy cargo pants paired with your usual worn boots.

There were a few you spotted in your time standing in unwavering wait, never for Ape King in particular but… For something to do. Someone to talk to… It was a pack of two Chimps and three Bonobo’s who wanted to take a jab at what you would call ice fishing and you watched in amusement as they departed the front entrance of the Colony with their spears, their dark bodies becoming smaller and smaller until they disappeared in the white flurries between the trees.

They had fur, you knew that and gave a brisk smile to the fire in front of you as your gaze slotted open once more. Jealousy was not fitting to you but the idea of having a built in coat instead of having to layer seemed so nice… A luxury even but something tickled the back of your brain that you had no basis for.

Did… they get cold like you did? Wearing what you were, there was still a frigid aspect in your appendages, your blood felt like it was slowly taking its time running its course through your body and to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You’d never been allowed to touch an Ape before, you’d only admired the fur from afar when Caesar was near.

It seemed to thicken the last few months, but it was still evident in certain frames he put his broad body into that you were able to see the mild sheen of his skin underneath. So, not entirely covered, it beckoned you to answer it. Temptation yearned at your hands and trudged into your mind. Did… They get cold?

You caught hold of a bit of commotion from the direction of the horse paddock, not difficult in the silence that seemed to drain from the Heavens like the white snowfall. Recognizing the grunting as Luca’s, you slid your gawk curiously over and feasted upon the three bodies that you were able to admire. Such a Human tactic, prying into business that wasn’t yours but… Wasn’t that what Apes did?

They had very little semblance of personal space or even privacy; something you carried in your mind but it was hard not to take in some drama here and there when it was allowed. Rocket, Luca as you had figured and… Caesar. Hands were flying and capturing small flakes of snow between words, Rocket and Luca saying something to each other with flying hands before Caesar only nodded a slight departure.

Nothing to be learned from that, you creased your eyebrows in and watched as the intimidating gait of the King himself came into a clearer view from the corner of your eye as you were adamant to ensure that he had not known you were looking for him, let alone staring. Caesar knew; it was something innate in the back of his mind when there was a set of eyes on him that were not meant to be at the time and more often than not lately, it was your glance that he would meet in the middle of a crowd. In the middle of his own people, there was a shift in Caesar only recently that tugged in the lower aspects of his desire to find companionship.

Human or Ape. You were interesting none-the-less and it was obvious in how he was looking at you upon his adamant approach. What… You were doing out in the weather, he had no idea. There was amusement scratching inside of his mind that you were waiting for him but that was not plausible as he saw the flushing of your cheeks, scorned red from the heat of the fire. You were warming yourself up and that was more of an obtainable answer to the Ape King.

Catching your breath in your throat at his stance as he came beside you, it was hard not to see the splaying of his toes against the slicken nature of the stone below, leaving heady imprints of his larged feet in the virgin snow. It was admirable as you were sure that if you moved with such a confident swagger, you’d be tumbling straight down the Colony’s slope and rear through the front gates on your back.

“I-...” You huffed, watching the air escape your lungs as evident in the air in a white thrust of dust in front of your face. Swallowing hard, you shut your mouth and attempted to lubricate your dried throat and laughed slightly at your sudden onset of nerves. Caesar stared at you from his peripheral, mind cogging in on itself out of a desire to know what was going on inside of your own. Humans… They were expressive, the Ape thinks to himself but you?

You had this knack of covering up adverse emotions around him and it was frustrating. Fear? There was no way to tell. Intimidation? No way to deduce. Amusement? Maybe, he was able to smell your scent, vivid and natural as it was in his flared nostrils as he sneezed a snowflake away from being carded into his nose. Caesar drew a deep breath in, feeling the heat of the chill against his diaphragm like a blister against the muscles as you finally spoke.

“Never seen snow here before. My grandpa… Used to talk to me about it. I guess back in… The day it snowed. Sometime in the 1970’s there was a big ol’ blizzard and it left the Bay pretty covered.”

“Ape… Adapt.” Caesar’s statement was clear and concise as if it were rehearsed. “Fur… Gets thick… in the Winter Months.” “Must be nice,” You smiled shyly, bringing the bottom half of your face into the collar of your jacket and kissed at the hem for a moment. Caesar watched with carded interest, snow falling against your lips and with a heated smooch, it was gone into condensed water and slid down the curve. “It’s hard now to find winter clothes that work. Most of the stuff I have is really old and falling apart. This jacket,” Holding your hand up, you waved the excess fabric around where you tucked your hand in on the arm of your garment. “Was a good find. I’d freeze to death without it, especially at night. Even without the snow it gets really cold----” “You do not… Have a fire.” That was not a question, more of a blanketed statement as it finally dawned upon him the inconsideration of not accommodating that. Hard to remember, he was quick to rationalize that and buried the desire to apologize for his lack of thought. Humans were weak with the cold. They had no fur. You--- Had none, Caesar drew another deep breath in at the consistent bugging in his brain that buzzed an urge to feel your skin against his bare and heated hand. Then, he’d be able to keep you warm himself…

You had no resources any more to help other than layers like what was being displaying for him today, despite the displeasure in the innate fact that Caesar was unable to see the drifting of your breathing under such thick fabrics and it seemed as if your scent itself that was so warm and inviting was mildly dimmed too and washed with moisture that clung in the air. “Will…Take care… of that for you.”

“Soon?” You replied teasingly and earned yourself a rather stern stare from Caesar who huffed once more, a few more snowflakes making their home against his flattened nose. Cartoonishly shaped, it was one aspect of his otherwise striking face, burled and strong with the casing of his thickened fur around his features that appeared more delicate. The skin seemed slightly discolored around the bridge as well as less wrinkled than the rest of his face and you wanted to brush your fingertips along it to see if that was truly the case.

Nodding his assent, Caesar peered at the sweeping of the bonfire and was able to feel the heavy heat coming onto his bare skin beneath the layers of his darkened fur. There, he understood the premise of why you were standing so barren by yourself. No fire in your hut, no other way to keep warm than to stand by the biggest of the fires that the Colony had to offer. He could… Offer you his own.

No other reason other than the roof overhead to stop the drift of snow catapulting against your body and you’d adequately be able to warm yourself then. You’d even be allowed to stay the evening until Caesar worked something out with River, Ash and his own Son to fix the issue of your lacking blazed abode.

Would you… be accepting of that at all, if Caesar were to offer you to stay with him for only a night? Caesar hated to tear into the more Human nature of his thinking, it was years he went without speaking to one, without the pulling want to feel the reminiscent melancholy of his past and it was challenging to put himself into that mindset now.

Human Females were more sensitive and prone to embarrassment, you’d deny if he asked you to come stay with him and you’d most likely not even look him in the eye with your declining answer.

Human Males would think nothing of the invitation. Will’s smile flashed in front of Caesar’s line of vision. Sitting atop in the attic, staring at the slated cold rain as it fell and his own young fingers playing with the condensation on his window that formed from the proximity of his hot body---.

“Do you ever get cold?”

Caesar was torn out of thinking, his eyes focusing back in upon the rapture your voice brought him along with the fluttering beat of his heart against his rib cage due to the mixed exhilaration of opening the door of his past and the more animalistic tear that struck at the base of his neck at the prospect of taking you back to his nest and slotting his larger frame against yours. All in the sake of keeping you warm, he’d justify it as his teeth sank into your neck. All to keep you… Hot.

There was a small plume of chill evident in the air as you spoke, cascading against your line of vision as you looked at Caesar who appeared to be ice-caped now, your stare unable to tell what was his naturally graying fur versus snow caught between the small hairs of his fur coat.

To see the fluffy nature of the flakes catering themselves against the very cusped outline of Caesar’s body was a masterpiece. His fur caught it… At least it appeared to before it leaked into his skin, somewhat water resistant in its own right and it was hard to pretend that the snow melting against his body heat wasn’t turning into small droplets of silver either to be casted to the ground below or to freeze against the tips of his nearly blackened coat.

Each of the white specks, individual and loved, seemed to highlight just how dark his coat truly was and how dense it appeared against the scape of his skin. Crunching below your weight rested an inch or two of white crisped and virginal snow that fell inwards with your steps as you allotted yourself to stand next to the imposing Ape King.

Caesar looked at your mouth momentarily, liking the way that your breath was clear for him to see instead of having to rely on the rising and falling of your shoulders as was usually the case. Had you… He tilted his head only minutely, something that was not detectable to your eyes as you reached a fabric clad hand and wiped some flakes that were kissing your cheek away from minored annoyance against your already chilled skin. Had you truly never felt an… Ape’s fur before so you lacked the answer to that question?

Surely, Caesar thought to himself and felt a deep rumble come from the bowels of his chest. Not bemusement in the slightest, but it cracked with ardent hilarity in the chortle that followed. From the look on his face, it appeared as if you asked a stupid question and you felt mildly scolded.

It… was a pretty stupid question to ask, obviously they got cold otherwise most of the Ape families would not be spending their afternoon in the homes in favor of braving the weather like you were so stupidly doing. His brow line rested endearingly against the stare of gold and green, the only color it seemed in the monochromatic backdrop that the snow eclipsed the Colony in with its silent fall.

“Have you not felt… fur before?” “Sure,” You stammered, feeling heat rise between your legs to shatter along the vertebrae of your spine. It danced itself against the back of your skull, uncomfortable like you had bugs crawling in your hair under your winter cap. It was a question you had a ready answer to, expecting the blunted nature of the inquiry from a mile away. Caesar was like that; brash and willing to take what it took to get his point across, sometimes even to the point of acute and aggravated awkwardness on your part.

Maybe that’s what you found so attractive about him, your bottom lip drew itself between your teeth and you pensively nibbled at the flesh. Other than outward appearances that you found… Appealing…

“I have plenty of animal pelts I was given when I first---” “Ape Fur.” Caesar corrected himself quickly, hoping it didn't come across as too aggressively forward, “Have not… Felt… Ape?” “O-Oh…” Nodding, you laughed awkwardly into the collar of your jacket and shook your head minutely, something the Ape King noticed as he himself nodded in understanding to your silent answer. “Uh… I’ve ne-never really been close to one before.” Your voice was cracking around the edges and you prayed to whatever God there was that it was not detectable from the shackling of the fire.

“I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to be!” Were did that come from? W… Were you flirting? Your mind yelled and pulled in on itself as your cheeks deepened a shade not from the warmth of the fire, unable to look towards the Chimp who was so focused on the profile of your expression, trying to discern what you were rambling on about. “I didn't mean it like that--- I just…”

Groaning, you turned your attention back towards the fire rather than the broad body of the Ape beside you. “No. I’ve never… Felt… Your kind of fur before. Is it different than…” Racking your brain through the hides you had in your hut, you rested on one animal that you thought was a fair comparison, “Bear?”

“Not as… thick.” It was clear in the cadence of his words that Caesar paused to think of the correct adjective to use. It was always easier for him to sign his thoughts, speaking was only second nature with you. “O-Oh…” There it was again, that amusing plume of white around your face with your exaltation, Caesar watching with bated amusement as it faded closer to your forehead and you laughed slightly, shuffling your feet as you felt your toes becoming numb. This time… You were unsure if you’d be able to blame that solely on the cold or if the nerves had become too great to handle and the nerve endings in your body were flaring as an attempt to get out of the situation you found yourself in. “So you do get cold?” Caesar shifted his brow just slightly as he looked at you and posed the foreboding question that was always going to plague this conversation, “You would… like to feel?”

“No---”

“You may if you… Would like.” The overlaying of your lying denial with Caesar’s impressive acceptance of your curiosity tangled in your mind and replayed itself a few times. It left you feeling reeling as you processed and looked down at your feet, bringing your right foot forward and crunching down on the snow that resided there and scarred it with a half imprint of your boot. “I-I don’t want to feel like… You’re only doing this because---” “You should… Know if you are to live as one of us.”

Your eyebrows creased at that, wild implications running rampant in the words that Caesar chose to use. You had never been one to doubt your position in the Colony, you were just a Human. Sometimes, it felt like you were a pet of sorts when you did something so strikingly Human and it garnered stares. Never once had the idea of becoming one of them by proxy cross your racing mind as you looked towards Caesar and finally captivated him in a dance with your full expression. With the ambient orange glow of the fire against the backdrop of the slaten white, you appeared confused at first until the Ape was properly able to see the creasing of your eyebrows and the slight drawing of your mouth upwards. There was no attempt to stop the frozen hackles lined against Caesar’s broad shoulders from rising out of anticipation as you pulled your hands out from the enclosure they were in, tugging at the mitten of your right that were condensing heat against the digits. Caesar admired the way your small fingers came into view, splaying themselves against the hardened cold breeze, sweat that was playing at his nose from between them all too enticing as you shoved the mitten into the crevice of your jacket pocket.

Once again as you did out of nervousness, you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard, the pink skin turning momentarily the same hue as the crisped snow and Caesar held a hand out for your stability as you shuffled towards him to close the gap of less than a meter that was placed between you. Staring at the motion, you likened to the flakes that fell against his hot skin and melted upon impact.

The pure white against the darkened flesh that had seen its share of demise and loss, the pull that his thick fingers had on you as you reached your hand out, accepting the help so you did not slip on the ice so you could readjust properly to touch him. All things, your mind needed to remind itself, were things done out of consideration of your nature. Not because of the attraction that flurried between Caesar’s eyes and your Lightly, the woolen nature of your left hand placed itself into the leathered drench of his palm and you peered at your feet as you twisted. There was irrational intimacy. There were no other Apes around and even with the blizzard of the flurries, would they actually be able to see anything as you released Caesar’s hand with a small smile of a ‘thank you’ and stared at his shoulder. So… You were just supposed to… Touch him? Apes… did not have the same attitude towards personal space, this was probably something as normal as breathing to them… Something as normal as sleeping… Gesturing your hand forward, it hesitated mid-air.

What if you touched him too familiarly? What if Caesar did not like the way you held him? Why would that matter!? The ration side of your brain dragged you back to your senses. There was nothing here other than an Ape wanting to expand your horizons to see them as not threats, but as a Family you had been accepted into without your explicit knowledge. Not that you had ever seen them as threats, your gaze softened as you broke the barrier of frost that was lining against his furred shoulder.

Caesar resisted the temptation to release an exaltation and in return drew a headied breath inwards and let it linger in his lungs. He had not felt this… For so long, the running of another set of hands against his body out of disputed pleasure on both parties; disputed in his own way but not so much against yours as he was able to detect the change of your scent that was muffled. Amused… Arousal, juxtaposed and playing deliciously against each other.

Not since Cornelia, Caesar resisted the urge to drop his eyes into a flattened state of vulnerability. Not since her passing, it never seemed appropriate to take in the minor delectation of what Caesar had been missing for nearly eight years now. It felt new. The way your hand shattered the tiny ice particles and drudged into the deepest core of his thickened coat, still thinned you realized compared to a bear's hide, Caesar had not been wrong in that aspect at all. It was incredibly coarse towards the fur line against his skin, softening as it draped inches outwards.

It was a ridiculing texture, beckoning into the primal part of your mind that it was all for show and that Caesar felt the way he did in order to draw you in. And you were drinking it up like it was water, metal shavings to a magnetic force of great power.

How sickly marveled you must have looked to him as you stammered a foot forward to get more as if your hungry hand was not already devouring everything it had wanted for the last month when the attraction to the Ape King sprang into your consciousness. It was so nice; the way that the coarse hairs tickled at your skin, the wallop of tufted mane rose and fell as you put forth a sweeping motion back and forth to study. Not a pet in the slightest, Caesar’s green and golden eyes flickered to the action you placed forth and released the tension of air he had held in.

This time, it was your gawk that got to admire the way that the air dissipated from his thinned mouth in a crest of iridescent white near his face. Nearer than you had thought as you were able to feel the hotness on your expression. Caesar was more enjoyable than the stagnant and cold bear pelt you had as you could feel the high temperature of his skin right under your finger pads.

“It---” You tilted your head to the side in wonderment as you grasped a handful and let it sink between your fingers. If Caesar was pained at all by the sensation of your pull, he did not show it as he was still as could be, perhaps a bit softened in his expression as his eyes hooded at the delicacy it was to be… Touched so affectionately. Human… Touches were different, the Chimpanzee decided. They were different, the muscle bounced in reaction to being touched as you brought your hand back to play against the grain of which his fur naturally grew, you were different with your grazes and Caesar wanted more.

“It’s not as thick, you’re right.” That was said half-heartedly, needing to verbalize something in the moment to tear yourself away from taking your other mitten off and absolutely ravaging against his entire body. You wanted nothing more.

“As… I told you.” Caesar’s voice only waved around the edges, not detectable to your ears but it was racking against his own eardrums. A moment of seeped weakness at being touched. “So you do get cold?”

You asked once again, looking at the King with slight cross eyes due to the proximity of which you held yourself against his commandeering stance. You could feel the tiny vibrations of his fur as it rose on reflex as your fingertips finally made more adamant contact with the muscles that draped below. Instantaneous it felt, the reaction and you found it difficult to pull away from the notion that Caesar was allowing you this pleasure in the first place.

He was strong, your eyes ample at the back of your hand. Stronger than… you had thought, the muscles he carried against his bones were dense and hard, but how strong was he? Would Caesar be able to pick you up like you were nothing? Would he be able to snap your neck if you so desired him to do so? Maybe if you were lucky, he’d do just that. Maybe if you were bold enough and tugged at the fur in your possession would Caesar snap and take you---

In your touch that began moving with more intentions rested all of these questions, your mouth parting as you exhaled harshly in time with Caesar as he blew out of his nostrils; his own desperate attempt to keep his own questions at bay. Would you be willing to touch him harder, more fervently? Would you want to touch the fur on other parts of his body?

Against his chest, he’d let you run your hands down against the abs that were fleece lined and only noticeable at certain angles. Your stares during those times that Caesar caught you staring confirmed you were at least interested in feeling, or so he figured and kept to himself. Your scent at those moments in time told Caesar you wanted more than you were getting, or maybe he was running away with the idea out of piqued loneliness.

What was he meant to think? What was the Chimp meant to feel? That tugging in the bottom of his stomach that danced downwards to flare against his pelvic bone. So Human by design it was, the urge to consummate out of a winded impulsed fun instead of primal desire to mate out of necessity. Would you revel in feeling the hardening of his muscles and maybe even more if you so chose?

“Yes.”

Was the response that was as simply put as anything else, Caesar’s tone nothing more than a rambling baritone caressing the innermost parts of your ears as if he were speaking directly into the shell below that body part. There was no need to complicate the matter. There was no need for Caesar to cure your morbid curiosity. There was no bridge that needed to be made as you swallowed hard, feeling the stiffening of your esophagus with that.

There were no others around to concrete the gap between Humans and Apes and it was resting on you now, your arm pulling itself back into your body as you squeezed your fingers together out of unspoken cravings that finally came to fruition. “It-It keeps you warm enough though, right?” Caesar rolled his shoulder. Not to be taken as offensive, he was unsure of how to process the sensation of your hand print drilling into his skin now that he had gotten a small taste of it. Never again unless you were Mated. This was only to show you. To demonstrate and to satisfy your questions. You would perhaps touch another, his stomach churned in on itself out of unfamiliar jealousy. Caesar had no coping mechanism for that in itself ugly entirety. With the acceptance of you as part of the Colony, you were free to choose whom you wished and there had to be acceptance of that. There was nothing here other than Caesar’s want to help you understand Apes. Caesar’s… thirst to help you understand himself…

Adjacently dilated eyes met yours as you felt all the air leave your body at once and the warmth that Caesar’s fur had blessed your hand with left you feeling chilled from the intensity of his stare, “Most… of the time.”

“And when it doesn’t?” “Ape… Learn to deal.” Caesar’s voice was once again a low grumble from deep in his chest, your gaze falling to the scar that lined his right pectoral and as you shoved your hand back into the homely hug of your mitten, scorned forever knowing that you knew how he felt, you wanted more. You wanted… To touch him there, downward…

Down his thick waist and against the pelvic bone. Pressing there would be a delight, you wondered how Caesar would react. Down his proportionally shorter legs and then back upwards against the grain of his fur and torturous with your intended languid pace. You wanted it all, feeling emptiness against your palm as it kissed the wool mitten. “Harder… for Humans to adapt. Harder to… Deal.”

“Unless you let me borrow your fur, then I don’t think I’ll be much use during the Winter then.”

You muttered shamelessly, unsure if your voice came out as confident as it sounded in your mind. Unsure if your words even made sense to the Ape who had very little concept of flirting, let alone subtle flirting. It was reckless you knew. It was fruitless, no doubt.

But there was a tiny lingering shock of electricity that even Caesar could not deny when you broke set standards you both abided by day in and day out by letting the inquiry of the unknown come to light. You were riding on that as you peered at him, watching the crease form between his brows as Caesar ran through your words a few times to understand the deeper meaning.

Caesar huffed at last as it hit him with cognition, looking towards your neck and seeing the very base from under the collar of your jacket and sweater. It beat quickly for him. Hardened and paced to please as was the way it felt against his navel. It lingered painstakingly and unfamiliar for him, “Will… Build your hut a fire first. Then… See if you truly need my fur above all else.”

#caesar #caesar x reader #pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes imagines #andy serkis #andy serkis x reader #caesar pota

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jgracie · 3 months

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THE GOOD WITCH — PERCY + CHILD OF HECATE

masterlist | rules

❝ hi, could you pls write percy x child of hecate hcs ? ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a child of hecate

pairing percy jackson x hecate!reader

warnings none:)

on the radio . . . the good witch (maisie peters)

an the idea for this came to me in a dream (not even joking) so i had to write it ofc... haven't done cabin hcs in a WHILE i miss them sm!! ALSO I LISTENED TO THE GOOD WITCH ALBUM WHILE WRITING THIS STREAM THE GOOD WITCH

Demigod extractions were things often reserved for the satyrs to do. Occasionally, a demigod would accompany a satyr but that was rare since the more demigods in a group, the stronger their overall scent and the more likely they are to be ambushed by monsters

When there’s a demigod with as powerful of a scent as Phoebe’s, however, it didn’t really matter how many demigods you brought along, since she alone was bound to attract monsters - in fact, it was better to bring demigods along, since they were better trained in combat than satyrs

That’s why Percy was currently on a bus heading for Brooklyn at six in the morning, trying his hardest not to fall asleep on the shoulder of the person sitting next to him: you

He didn’t know much about you other than that you’re a child of Hecate and you often volunteered when they needed a demigod on the extraction trips, but he didn’t think you’d like spending the entire drive with him drooling all over your shoulder

As you headed to Brooklyn, Marigold the satyr was yapping away about how powerful this demigod was. Apparently, she was only seven yet somehow managed to be a monster magnet. A demigod as powerful as that could easily be a child of the big three, which you assumed was why Percy accompanied you this time around

The extraction itself went pretty smoothly. Trying her best to hold back her tears, Phoebe’s mother handed her over to you and you gave her a quick summary of what Camp Half-Blood was like, handing her a pamphlet made by the Iris kids while Percy scouted the area for any monsters

Finding none, Percy told Phoebe to say goodbye to her mother, which she did, and the four of you got inside the car to begin your journey back to camp

“When will I see my mommy again?” The little girl said as she lightly tapped your arm. As you looked into her big, sea green eyes, you couldn’t help but notice a striking resemblance between her and Percy, who was silently watching your interaction go down

Giving her a sympathetic smile, you said, “I’m sure she’ll visit soon.” Noticing the sadness in the way she pouted her lips, you smiled and pulled out a deck of cards from your bag

“D’you wanna see a magic trick?” You asked, shuffling the cards. Instantly, her eyes lit up and she eagerly nodded. Being Hecate’s child meant you could do all sorts of magic tricks with ease, so you often carried a deck of cards and various other objects on you when doing demigod extractions in order to cheer the kids up

The trick was simple: she’d choose a card, look at it, put it back in the deck, the deck would be shuffled and then you’d pick the same card out. Despite its simplicity, it made the girl’s day, and the car was quickly filled with laughs and squeals of excitement as you spent the rest of the ride performing all sorts of magic tricks

Unbeknownst to you, Percy was watching you intently, feeling his heart rate get quicker and quicker as he fell harder and harder for you. Yes, he barely knew you, but he couldn’t help but fall when your compassionate heart captivated his own and your bright smile rivalled Apollo’s sun

You went your separate ways once you got to camp, but Percy never forgot that ride back to Camp Half-Blood

Phoebe was claimed just a day after she’d arrived to camp and, as luck would have it, your suspicions were right. She was a daughter of Poseidon, making her Percy’s sister

The boy in question helped her move into cabin three from eleven, and as he moved the ample amount of belongings she had to her bunk, tried to get to know his new sister

However, she didn’t seem to care to know him, she just wanted to see you again. She hadn’t seen you since you parted ways at camp and missed you an awful lot so she just kept asking Percy for you until he gave up and went to fetch you

(It didn’t take that much for him to give up, since he secretly wanted to see you again too)

When Percy showed up at your cabin, although curfew was nearing, you were more than happy to accompany him to his own cabin, since you’d been planning to go and check up on Phoebe at some point anyway. It warmed your heart to know she’d been thinking of you as well

As soon as you appeared, Phoebe clung to you and begged you to show her more tricks, which you gladly did. However, you also made sure to vouch for Percy and show her how cool he is since you felt bad for the guy. His first ever demigod sibling, and she seems to care about someone from a different cabin more than him

Soon enough, it was curfew, and Phoebe had finally tired herself out and fallen asleep. There was only one small issue: you couldn’t leave cabin three unless you were willing to risk the harpies catching you, which you didn’t

“You can stay here,” Percy said, his voice hushed so his sister wouldn’t wake up. It was almost like he could read your mind. You would’ve denied his offer, not wanting to intrude on his space, but you really weren’t in the mood to get in trouble that night

So, you accepted. Neither of you were tired enough to go to bed though, so after a little bit of discussion, you settled on watching a movie together

Perks of the Poseidon cabin? Since there were only two residents, Percy took initiative and replaced a few of the beds with a giant living room of sorts. There was a couch, a table and a demigod safe TV, courtesy of the Hephaestus cabin

Unfortunately, the movie you two ended up choosing was incredibly boring. You never thought a movie could be this boring. Maybe it was because your eyes were starting to get heavy, but you had no idea what the plot was supposed to be or where it was going

At around the one hour mark, your eyes shut and you drifted off to sleep on Percy’s shoulder. Percy, ever the gentleman, closed the TV and carried you to one of the empty beds in his cabin

As he tucked you in, he couldn’t help but take note of how beautiful you were. This was the first time he got to take a good look at you, and he seized the opportunity, engraving the shape of your lips and the colour of your eyelashes into his memory

Maybe he was falling

After that night, two significant things happened: you and Percy started seeing each other much more often, and Percy started keeping a journal

The former was because Phoebe still really enjoyed being around you. Sure, she loved her big brother, but you were always going to be her favourite. You enjoyed the young girl’s company too, so you didn’t mind being at cabin three for most of the day

You also really liked being around Percy. Being at Poseidon’s cabin all the time meant you were bound to get to know him more, and you two discovered you actually had a lot more in common than you would’ve ever thought

You taught him some of your simpler magic tricks, and he showed you his own tricks with water. You both also vowed to watch more interesting movies

The latter was because Percy’s mother told him to. She thought it’d be a good way for him to let all his feelings out when he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he trusted his mom with his life, so why wouldn’t he?

The journal worked, of course. He’d talk about the challenging life of the average demigod and how he wished he were a normal mortal, but that wasn’t his main use for it. Mostly, he’d talk about you

You, who’d wrapped him around your finger without knowing it. You, who he’d fallen hopelessly in love with. Since he couldn’t tell anyone about his crush on you in fear of rejection, Percy decided he’d tell the journal, since no one would read it anyway

If only he knew how wrong he was

You see, Phoebe was a very perceptive child. She saw her big brother writing in his little notebook then putting it under his bed. The one time she asked him what he was writing about, he got super nervous and refused to show her

That, of course, meant she had to know. So when Percy was helping a group of hippocampi at the beach once, Phoebe decided to discover what he was writing about

She couldn’t read much of it, but she did recognise your name. As soon as she saw it, she got excited and ran to cabin 20 to show you. Although you and Percy were oblivious about your feelings towards each other, she wasn’t, so seeing your name in her brother’s journal excited her

You weren’t surprised to see Phoebe at the door of your cabin. You’d taught her how to get there during her first week at camp in case she ever needed you, so she was there often

You were, however, surprised to see Percy Jackson completely out of breath and running after her. Unfortunately, he was a little too slow

“Read it!” Phoebe squealed, giving you the journal. Confusedly, you looked down and began to read. As you took in all the words of pure love and infatuation, pure love and infatuation for you, you felt your face heat up

Never in a million years did you think Percy would reciprocate your feelings. He was just a silly crush of yours, that could never escalate into anything more, right?

Percy finally caught up with his sister. He didn’t think a seven year old could run so fast. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, you weren’t supposed to read that, it’s silly, it’s–”

“Is it true?” You asked, your eyes and your voice barely above a whisper

All he could do was nod

You started dating after that, of course. Phoebe would spend the rest of her life taking credit for the existence of Camp Half-Blood’s favourite couple

After you and Percy became official, she stopped referring to you as Y/N whenever she’d speak about you to all her other friends at camp. You became “Percy’s soulmate Y/N” (yes soulmate specifically. She saw him writing it once and it stuck)

The children of Camp Half-Blood quickly become your biggest fans. Whenever they’d see you walking around hand-in-hand, they’d all squeal and whisper to each other about how they wanted to be just like you

Phoebe and Percy fought over you all the time. He wanted to get kisses and cuddles from the love of his life, Phoebe wanted to show you her cartwheels and handstands. Sibling banter ensued

Still, you managed to get your alone time

Percy loves asking you for tarot readings. He loves watching your hands eloquently shuffle the cards, he loves watching your eyes light up at the cards that pop out, he loves how excited you get as you explain what it all means, he loves it all

He’ll ask you for tarot readings for everything just because he knows you get really excited to do them, especially when it’s for someone who doesn’t know what any of it means since you get to yap about it

Important exam the next day? Tarot reading. Quest he’s worried about? Tarot reading

“Babe, babe,” Percy said, startling you. You put down Ginger (the Hecate cabin pet cat in my head) and turned to face your boyfriend, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as he sat across you

Grabbing your tarot deck from your bedside table, Percy handed it to you and said, “I need a reading. I’m about to go and check the minifridge in my cabin for blue coke and I’d like to know if I’ll end up being disappointed.”

You deadpanned, “Perce, that’s not really how it works…”

He asked you for a reading about your relationship once and SO many good cards popped out you were convinced your mother was somehow present. You got so giggly and shy you could barely get through the reading

He loves bringing that reading up in the randomest of conversations (or when someone flirts with you) to remind everyone you two are absolutely meant to be

One time, he gave you a shell to wear on your camp necklace. You treasured it and, in return, gave him a crystal to wear on his

When I say the boy was obsessed!!! Every time he’d catch someone’s eyes flitting down to his camp necklace, he’d rave about his cool lover from cabin 20 and how they gave him this crystal

He asks you about all the properties of the crystals and you think he isn’t paying much attention and is probably bored but he’s actually making a mental note of all of them in his head

The next time you visit cabin three, you find crystals littered all over the place. Percy gives you a tour and recites all their qualities to you and why he chose to put each one where he did and you burst into tears because no one outside of your cabin cared about your interests as much as he did

Oh also you’re the cooler one out of the two of you #loserpercyagenda everyone LOVESSS to tease Percy about how whipped he is for you

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcanons #percy jackson x hecate reader #percy jackson x child of hecate #hecate pjo #children of hecate #cynwrites

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jmliebert · 6 months

Text

Starry Nights belong to lovers

Summary: Gale longing for Tav while being positively miserable (because i love my man being miserable sometimes, y'know...)

smut with (a little bit of) fluff and angst?

Word count: 4,250

Tags: romance, angst, longing, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: because in my last playthrough i was torn between keep romancing gale or losing it all to the polygamist relationship with halsin... ( i chose my babyboy gale tho) but the possibilities are endless and here's one of them !!

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

Well, that was rather embarrassing predicament, to say the least. Gale of Waterdeep, esteemed wizard, lurking in the shadows like a common maniac. Observing a woman of his dreams from afar. A woman who had once held his heart in the palm of her hand, only to cast it aside for another. Positively pathetic, isn’t it?

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, like an astronomer gazing upon a distant star, simultaneously drawn to its brilliance and wary of its celestial power. There was something about Tav, something ineffable, yet undeniably captivating, that compelled him to observe her, whenever he had a chance. Mind you, Gale's captivation resided not in the moments of intimacy, but rather in the quiet nuances of Tav's daily life. He found himself drawn to her ordinary rituals, avoiding the intrusion upon her private moments as a matter of principle— he adored watching her writing letters in the soft glow of the evening, tending to her garden with such grace, the quiet reverence with which she communed with nature's wonders. Each gesture, each fleeting expression painted a portrait of a woman both ordinary and extraordinary, and Gale found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

And yet, amidst the tapestry of her daily life, there was one thread that left a bitter taste upon his tongue— Halsin. Oh, how he despised the very mention of the name, the mere thought of the druid being so close to Tav and being her lover (whatever that meant in Halsin’s world), stirred a pang of ugly jealousy within his breast. For what claim did Halsin have upon Tav's affections, he wondered relentlessly, when it was he who loved her from the very beginning. It was he who worshipped the ground she was walking on. And finally, it was he who forgot his goddess because of her.

Still, Tav didn’t choose Gale.

Well, maybe that statement wasn’t entirely correct. In truth, Tav did chose Gale at the beginning of their journey. They would spend countless hours in his tent, engrossed in conversation and lost in the pages of books. Their laughter echoed through the camp. He took great care to ensure that Tav received the choicest bits during their shared meals and in moments of distress, Tav sought solace in his reassuring presence, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand clasped firmly in hers. Though Gale never said it out loud, he felt a swell of pride knowing he was the one she turned to in her hour of need.

Oh, how he admired her unwavering sense of justice and compassion. She was committed to doing what was right, even when faced with the most daunting challenges. In a world this wicked and dark, she was a beacon of light. She gave him hope when all seemed lost, and in turn he offered her his heart, but Tav wanted more, it would seem.

He saw her talking with Halsin more and more as they were roaming through The Shadow-Cursed Lands. It seemed as though every passing moment brought them closer together. Tav's radiant smile and melodious laughter filled the air as she was talking with the druid. And the way he looked at her, made something inside Gale stir. Halsin gaze lingered on Tav, his eyes alight with admiration, mirroring Gale’s own. It was pretty obvious, yet, when Tav asked him, how he would feel as to having another person in their relationship he was taken aback. His first thought was the baby.

“What, like a child? I’m not sure I’d consider myself a father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what I would called settled…”

“It’s Halsin. He wants to be with me, but he doesn’t ask that I sacrifice you. We would…share.” Tav's words hung in the air, heavy with implication

Share?

Gale's mind reeled at the notion. “Share? You’re not a loaf of bread to be divided up at a supper time! I thought what we had meant something for you.”

But apparently he was wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t mean as much to Tav, as it meant to him and the realisation of that made him a truly miserable man. He was also angry, so angry beneath the surface. It was hard to stay at the camp after all this, it was hard to watch them talking, breathing, just being. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Tav. And for that he was even more enraged. How could he be so weak?

As the time passed and Baldur’s Gate was finally safe, the companions went their separate ways. At first, Gale welcomed the prospect of solitude, believing that distancing himself from Tav would bring him peace. He came back to Waterdeep and sought solace in his study, surrounded by his precious books and arcane tomes. He threw himself into his studies with renewed fervour, delving into the depths of ancient texts and lost knowledge in an attempt to distract himself from the pain gnawing at his heart, but it wouldn’t go away.

One evening, after one too many glasses of wine, Gale found himself consumed by a reckless impulse. It was a night much like any other, yet something within him stirred, a restless energy that demanded release. Casting an invisibility spell upon himself, he ventured out into the night. Before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself teleporting to the familiar streets of Baldur's Gate. Near where he knew Tav lived, to be precise. He told himself he was merely checking on her, ensuring her safety in a world fraught with danger. But deep down, he knew the truth.

As he watched her from the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, he found himself entranced by her mere presence. She was brushing her hair, her movements fluid and graceful, her face bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. In that moment, she looked so utterly beautiful, that Gale had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

It began as a one-time occurrence, a fleeting moment of weakness, he told himself. Yet, with each passing day, Gale found himself seeking out more excuses to linger in Tav's vicinity, even if she remained unaware of his silent vigil. And so, he became a ghostly spectator, haunting the edges of her life, longing for a connection he knew he could never truly have.

Because, how could he? How could he love her one moment only to watch her slip away into the arms of another the next? He couldn’t live like this, even if it’s Tav. So he just watched her, not ready to let go.

☾☾☾

This particular night, Tav was alone. Halsin was away, tending to orphans he took under his wings after all that happened in Baldur’s Gate. Truth be told, Halsin's frequent absences were a relief to Gale as it was still hard for him to witness the bond he had with Tav. There was an intimacy between them that Gale found himself unable to stomach.

Gale found Tav in her bedroom, nestled on the bed, a book cradled in her hands like a precious treasure. The soft glow of candlelight bathed her in a warm embrace, casting delicate shadows across her features. She looked so peaceful, so utterly content in that moment, and Gale couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. In another life, they would read their books side by side every night, their fingers tracing the words upon the pages.

Gale, didn’t know exactly why, but instead of his usual routine of observing Tav from the safety of the window, like a little puppy desperately waiting for their owner to let them in, he now found himself seated in his favourite chair on the other side of Tav's bed, invisible. It was an audacious move, even for him. Maybe, he was feeling particularly lonely that starry, romantic night? Or maybe there was something in the summer air… no matter what, the pull of her presence was too strong to resist at that moment.

So Gale was sitting there, watching Tav and enjoying the warm breeze. Lost in his thoughts, he shifted slightly in his seat, his foot inadvertently knocking into one of the candles seated on the floor. His heart lurched as he watched in horror as the candle toppled over, its flame igniting the delicate fabric of Tav's blanket. Panic surged through him as he realised what he had done, his mind racing with frantic thoughts, his hands on his head in pure disbelief.

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“Gale?” Tav’s voice, full of confusion, pierced through the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Gale's veins.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Gale summoned a rush of water, his practiced fingers weaving a complex pattern in the air as he cast a rapid incantation. The water swirled and danced in the air, cascading gracefully onto the flames and extinguishing them in a matter of seconds. As the last flicker of flame died out, Gale hesitated for a moment before releasing the invisibility spell that had cloaked him from view. With a soft shimmering light, he materialised into view, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and devastation of a defeated man.

"Hello, Tav," he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he met her gaze. "It seems I've made a bit of a mess, haven't I?” Gale asked as the smoke began to dissipate around him.

Now, he was waiting for Tav to be (rightfully) furious at him, but she wasn’t. Instead, she seemed to be…concerned?

“Are you all right?” Her voice was laced with genuine worry, her eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. It was a simple question, but it carried a weight that caught Gale off guard.

For a moment, Gale found himself speechless. He had anticipated anger or confusion, not this. His heart felt heavy.

"I'm...I'm fine," he stammered, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief as he struggled to compose himself.

“Good,” Tav said, stepping closer to Gale and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He froze momentarily at the unexpected touch, his heart racing in his chest. “I don’t understand how you got here,” Tav murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she buried her face in Gale's chest, “and I’m not even sure if I want to know,” she added. "But I’m glad you are here," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I’ve missed you... more than I can put into words." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and cascading down her cheeks as she clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Gale felt his body stiff at first at the sudden gesture, but despite it all he held her close, offering silent reassurance as they stood together in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Shh," he whispered softly, his touch tender as he traced soothing circles along her back. With every motion, he felt the weight of her sorrow, the depth of her longing, and his own heartache mirrored in her tears. He fought to hold back his own emotions, to be the pillar of strength she needed in that moment. To be a true man. But beneath the facade of composure, Gale's own tears threatened to spill over. “I’ve missed you too, Tav.” And his words were honest.

"After we destroyed the brain, you left so abruptly," Tav's voice trembled with emotion, her words carrying the weight of unspoken pain."I thought... I thought maybe you didn't want to see me ever again, that you detested me. And I understand if you do. I know you might think that all we had, was just a facade, a lie, but it wasn't.”

Gale listened in silence, and his heart throbbed with pain. He hated to watch her cry. ”I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hushed cadence of the night. "I never meant to hurt you.”

"I should be the one apologising," she murmured, her voice laced with regret. "I felt so guilty for leaving you like that, Gale. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep, feeling your absence like a gaping wound. And in those moments, Halsin... he was there for me. But it wasn't the same. It could never be the same.”

Gale's chest tightened at her confession, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear. "Tav..." he began, his voice choked with emotion and…hope? But before he could utter another word, she silenced him with a gentle touch of her hand. She looked deep into his eyes, looking for something in them.

"Gale," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. "I want you to know... I love you. I've always loved you." Her words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and emotion. "But I also love Halsin. In a different way, perhaps, but love nonetheless.”

Gale felt his heart sink at her admission, a pang of sorrow lancing through him like a blade. Despite the warmth of her touch, he couldn't shake the chill that settled in the depths of his very soul. "Tav," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "you know I'm not... I can't be... I want you all to myself. It hasn't changed since the last time we spoke about this.” And despite himself he added— “I think I should leave now.”

With a heavy sigh, he made a move to leave, to escape the turmoil of his emotions, but before he could take more than a few steps, Tav's hand shot out, grabbing his own with a desperate urgency.

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "Not tonight. Let's forget about Halsin, about everything. Just... let's be together tonight, you and I. Please?” Her eyes searched his, pleading for understanding, for connection, for something to hold onto in the midst of their tangled emotions.

And then she came closer, dangerously close. As her lips met his in a tender yet impassioned kiss, Gale felt his resolve waver, crumbling like sand between his fingers. The warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her embrace, it all washed over him like a wave, sweeping him away in a sea of longing and desire.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Gale's heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm of their kiss echoing the tumultuous beat of his emotions. And in that fleeting moment, as their lips parted and their eyes locked in silent understanding, Gale surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their shared desire. With a surge of strength, Gale lifted Tav effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the bed. Each step felt like a revelation.

As he gently laid her down upon the soft sheets, their eyes met once more, the intensity of their gaze speaking volumes. With trembling hands, Gale traced the contours of her face, memorising every curve and line as if committing them to memory.

Tav appeared as a vision of ethereal beauty, her form draped in the delicate embrace of silk nightwear that accentuated every curve and contour of her body. Gone were the rugged trappings of their journey through the wilderness, replaced instead by the subtle elegance of her attire. Gale found himself captivated, his gaze lingering on the gentle curve of her neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath. There was a vulnerability in her appearance that stirred something deep within him, a longing to protect and cherish her with every fiber of his being.

“Oh, Tav,” Gale said as he enveloped her body in his arms, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling deeply the sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped her. The warmth of her body pressed against his own ignited a fire within him, a primal urge that had been dormant for far too long. As their bodies pressed together, a wave of arousal washed over him, leaving him painfully hard and achingly aware of every brush of skin. Tav's hand found its way between their bodies, her touch sending shivers of pleasure racing up his spine as she palmed his growing erection.

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as pleasure rippled through him, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if he had been starved for this connection, this physical closeness, and now that he had it, he was powerless to resist its allure. As Tav shifted her position being on top of him, like his queen, straddling Gale's hips, she moved with a fluid grace that left him mesmerised. With deft fingers, she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the toned muscles beneath, her touch sending a shiver of anticipation through his willing body.

In response, Gale reached up to grasp the hem of Tav's nightdress, pulling it over her head with a reverence that bordered on worship. As the fabric fell away, she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, her skin aglow with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Gale's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Tav was utterly beautiful, her rounded breasts heaving with each breath, her thighs pressing against his hips as she straddled him. In that moment he knew, she held him in the palm of her hand, a goddess of desire and passion, and he was powerless to resist as he was just a mere human.

As she unbuttoned his pants and her fingers wrapped around his throbbing penis, Gale felt himself losing control. Every touch sent shivers down his spine, his desire mounting with each caress. Despite his trembling voice, he managed to murmur, "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to," she responded, her breath warm against his skin as she pressed a tender kiss to the glans of his penis. Gale took a deep breath through his clenched teeth. His arousal was palpable, his desire for her nearly overwhelming as she took him into her mouth with a delicate grace that left him shaking with need. Each sensation was magnified tenfold, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over him in an ecstatic frenzy. As her lips closed around him, he could feel the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, her tongue dancing along his length with a skill that bordered on sinful.

Gale could hardly contain the primal urge building within him, the intensity of his desire threatening to consume him whole. With each gentle caress and tantalising stroke, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his body aching for release. His hips moving shyly, only to be held down by Tav hands.

“ Tav, Tav I’m close,” he said, but she didn’t stop instead she was sucking him even harder. And when Gale finally came, it was like an explosion of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before. With a cry of ecstasy, he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, his body convulsing with the force of his release as he spilled himself into Tav's waiting mouth, his senses ablaze with a euphoria that left him gasping for breath. The world went quiet for a second, but not long after he felt Tav body on his. Her soft curves pressed against his chest. Her lips, swollen from their passionate encounter, hovered just inches from his own, and he couldn't resist the urge to draw her closer, his fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Gale smiled.

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock away from her forehead. When he saw a droplet of his sperm lingering in the corner of her mouth, he couldn't help but be overcome by a sudden surge of desire. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, capturing the droplet with his thumb and bringing it to his lips, savouring the taste of their shared passion as he licked it away. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, Gale felt himself consumed by a hunger unlike anything he had ever known, his hands roaming freely over her back as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment.

Their night was far from the end.

Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, as their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desire. With every touch, every caress, Gale felt a surge of longing course through him, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. As his hand trailed down her spine, exploring every curve and contour of her body, Tav's breath hitched in her throat, a soft moan escaping her lips as she melted into his touch. And when his fingers finally found their way to the wetness between her legs, she couldn't help but arch her back in response, a shudder of pleasure coursing through her.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, Gale shifted his position, kneeling between her legs as he drank in the sight of her. His heart raced in his chest as he watched her, every movement, every quiver of her body, sending waves of desire crashing over him.

"I need you, inside," Tav whispered, reading his thoughts exactly. Her voice barely more than a breathless plea. Her eyes bore into his, dark with desire, and Gale knew he couldn't deny her. With a tenderness Gale lowered himself down onto her, positioning his penis to her sweet entrance.

He had imagined it countless times during the lonely hours in his study, weaving fantasies in the quiet solitude of his mind. But now, as the reality of their passion unfolded before him, it surpassed even his most vivid dreams. In her embrace, Gale felt a sense of wholeness he had longed for, a completeness that eluded him in his solitary existence. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, Gale focused on the sensation of her body beneath his, the warmth of her skin against his own. And when Tav's hips began to move in a gentle rhythm, he followed suit, his movements initially tentative but growing bolder with each passing moment, encouraged by her soft moans.

Quickly Gale found himself lost in the heady haze of desire, his senses overwhelmed by the sight and sound of Tav squirming beneath him, her moans of pleasure driving him to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, each movement of their bodies, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him ever closer to the brink of release. He groaned each time he was all in, deep inside her sweet wetness, his gaze locked onto hers with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed.

As he drew near, his thrusts grew increasingly erratic, his control slipping with each passing moment. Despite his desperate attempts to hold back, he found himself on the precipice of release, his body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, my love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek. And as Tav's back arched in ecstasy, her breath hitching, and walls tightening Gale felt his own climax approaching like a tidal wave, ready to engulf him in its powerful embrace. With a low, guttural grunt, he buried himself deep inside her, his hands gripping hers tightly as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over him. With a primal cry, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies convulsing in unison as waves of bliss washed over them.

In that moment of pure connection, Gale surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, his release flooding Tav's depths with a torrent of his essence. Deep inside her, he poured himself into her with abandon, his ropes of cum filling her wholly as they became one. As the last echoes of their shared climax faded into the hushed stillness of the room, Gale held Tav tightly in his embrace, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking. They lay there, panting and spent, their hearts racing.

Desperately, Gale clung to the fleeting moment, reluctant to pull away from the intimate connection they shared. He wanted to linger inside her, to savor the warmth of her embrace for just a little while longer, before the outside world intruded once more.

Gale's touch was tender, his hand tracing soothing patterns along Tav's back, lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her hand resting gently on his chest, she seemed so close, yet so far away. And for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect, as if they had found each other's again.But as Gale's fingers sense the tiny wooden duck hidden beneath the pillow, reality came crashing back with brutal clarity. It was a stark reminder of the presence they could not escape, a symbol of the inevitable truth that awaited them at dawn. His heart felt empty. What they had shared this night was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a desperate grasp at something unattainable.

“I love you,” he said softly, though he knew he shouldn’t.

With one last lingering gaze at Tav's sleeping form, he turned away, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders as he made his way out of her bedroom, finally letting her go for good.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 romance #bg3 imagine #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale x you #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x oc #gale smut #gale fluff #gale angst #gale imagine #gale headcanons #gale in love #oh gale

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sprout-fics · 28 days

Text

And On the Wind, It Howls

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Seven of Snowblind

Rating: Explicit MDNI 18+ Wordcount: 7.3k Tags: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, There's Only One Bed, Awkward Sexual Situations, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Female Masturbation, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Fluff Warnings: N/A

It’s a soft, overcast Wednesday when you and Ghost set out to Scotland.

You watch the sprawling landscape from the window of the passenger seat, captivated with a small bit of childlike wonder as the car navigates the aging, cracked roads of the Scottish countryside. A dove gray sky- brumous but not yet threatening rain, arches over the tall, rugged peaks of the hills that flank you on either side. Even in the damp cold of early spring the wild, untamed beauty of the Scottish highlands breathes magic bleeding into your veins.

There’s a rawness, a brutality to the Cairngorms that aches heavy in your heart. You feel it in the way water trickles down from the hilltops in small springs, carving its way through dark stone and allowing infant growth to spring forth in green fronds that unfurl like a wistful sigh. Despite the jutting rocks atop the hills, the intimidating slope of the mountains that give rise to the highlands above, the landscape around you breathes with the barest whispers of fresh life. Beautiful, unrestrained, beckoning you to hike higher into the hills.

You take it all in, daring to lift your face to the crack of the window that allows a sliver of wind to slip through. It fills the emptiness inside you, allows you to fill your lungs with air that seems scarce inside the silence of the car.

Beside you, Ghost does not speak as he drives.

You cast a sidelong glance at him. It’s unclear if he ignores your stare or simply doesn’t see it, eyes trained on the road that curves higher into the hills. There’s a murmur of tension in his shoulders under his jacket, the hood drawn up despite the balaclava that covers all but his eyes. Without the smear of paint and the hard plastic skull you can see the pale skin underneath, the awkward curve of his nose that speaks of a bone broken one too many times. If you look closely enough you can see the silvery pink of a jagged scar that runs from the bridge of his nose to his right eyebrow, the traces of burn scars, and the smattering of soft freckles under his eyes.

Even in the daytime, the vision of his moonlit face haunts your dreams.

It’s not entirely a coincidence the two of you are together, but it certainly is unexpected. When Price had brought up the topic of leave following the team’s most recent deployment, you’d felt the men around you silently take a breath of relief. It felt like ever since you’d gotten back to the team you’d barely had more than eight hours of rest before being sent out again. You’d barely gotten six hours of sleep after getting back from your disastrous helicopter mission before Price had the five of you boarding a chopper to go hunt down an arms supplier south of Georgia.

The next week and a half was spent existing on MREs and substandard rations while you camped out in spider infested safehouses, counted your limited ammo supply and spared precious radio hours to inquire about supply drops. You’d found your target, eventually, and thankfully he’d croaked not too long into the makeshift interrogation. It had only taken Ghost two of the man’s separated fingers before he’d finally given you the lead on your target.

Eighteen hours later you’d returned to base with the same AQ captain that had slipped through your fingers on the night your helicopter had crashed. Even then, the weeks that followed were spent skimming actionable intel for something worth the fruit of your labors. Back to back missions meant you were catching what little sleep you could in transit, often nodding off on one of your comrade’s shoulders despite yourself.

When Price had announced leave for all of you (without failing to firmly state “None of you are allowed off base until I get your after-action reports, you complete your physical exams and read the dossier of our next objective. Phones on at all times when off base. Be prepared to be back sooner than you think.”) You’d been looking forward to a strong cup of tea and a book as you curled up in the corner of whatever airbnb you’d managed to secure for a few days off base.

Gaz and Soap had different ideas.

As soon as you had mentioned staying in the UK for your break, the two sergeants jumped at the chance to drag you along on a complete tour of London and Glasgow respectively- taking turns hosting you and ensuring you had seen the true side of each city (minus the tourist traps). The idea charmed you, admittedly, but when you’d asked Price and Ghost if they’d be interested in tagging along, Price had levied the three of you a tired, bemused sort of smile and declared he had alternative arrangements.

Ghost, on the other hand…

“I’ll be up north, hunting.” He declared flatly despite the slight tilt of his head, the small glimmer of interest in his eyes. “If you get sick of these two tossers, come find me.”

You were certain he was joking of course. In the days that had followed the reveal of his face to you, the breathless, almost tender exchange that had occurred at the safehouse, you’d managed to go back to convincing yourself Ghost was nothing more than a teammate, perhaps a friend.

It didn’t stop you, however, from eyeing him from afar. It’s hard not to notice Ghost despite his moniker. The sheer breadth of him is hard to miss. He towers in door frames as you sweep houses, takes up space in the back of the confiscated truck rolling through the countryside, exists purely as a sweeping obsidian shadow just in your periphery- there and gone again in pursuit of the target.

Off the field he’s imposing, an undeniable presence in any room. You’ve gotten used to sensing him through footsteps alone, by the way his massive weight shifts behind you. You’ve caught sight of him at the gym more than once- sleeves pushed up to reveal the swirl of dark ink tracing up his left forearm as his biceps bulge under the weights. You feel his eyes linger on you in turn- burning coal dark into your spine. Watching. Waiting.

They haunt you at night, in the darkness of your room. You try not to, but sometimes you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those eyes bore down into you from above, the warm exhale of his breath fanning through the mask and onto your face. You think about his scarred hands, the knuckles uneven from the number of times he’s broken them. In your mind the calloused palm of him slips down over the meat of your thigh, hauls your leg open and his voice murmurs darkly into your ear:

“Fix.”

In the morning, you awake sweaty, heart racing, the whisper of a dream clinging wet between your thighs.

So, despite yourself, despite the knowledge it was a poor decision, you’d gone to him.

Now, six hours into your drive, the silence in the car sits as a low pit of regret in your stomach. Whatever meager conversation the two of you had managed died off long ago, and now instead you turned your face to the open countryside where the barest slivers of sunlight slice through the clouds above.

Four days, Ghost had said. Four days tucked up in a hunting cabin at the edge of some Jacobian estate atop rolling hills and rocky crags where red elk and roe deer roam at the tail end of spring. Four days alone, away from civilization with nothing but the howling wind and the superior that you long to touch to keep you company against the vast wilderness between you.

In hindsight, you’re beginning to think maybe that grand tour wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

Ghost guides the car off the A9 just as a passing rain shower splatters against the windshield. It feels as if you’re driving to the ends of the earth, not a car in any direction as you slowly pick your way up the road and higher into the hills. You eye Ghost from the corner of your eye, watching him fixed on the road ahead and gently avoiding potholes along the way. He catches your glance at him, and you feel warmth rise to your face as you quickly look away, even as the silence lingers.

“Soap is going to be pissed we didn’t invite hi up here.” You offer mildly, and Ghost grunts.

“Too loud. He’d scare the deer off with all that barking.”

You snort.

“What, you’ve never hunted with hounds before, Ghost?”

“Mm.”

That seems to be all the response you’ll get, and you turn again back to the window, watching a soft sheet of rain pass you by.

“I used to go out hunting with dogs.” You say softly, not even entirely sure if he’s listening. “In the summer as a kid. We...my parents had a caretaker who had two bluetick coon hounds. The kind that you use to tree raccoons and black bears.”

Ghost is quiet, but when you glance at him the fission of tension in his shoulders seems to have loosened. It’s an odd gesture, miniscule except to your studious eyes that track every flinch, every movement, the tiniest indication of displeasure or contentment.

“If I ever went out into the woods, those two dogs would always come with me. Especially on hunting trips.” You go on, smiling. “If you think Johnny is loud, you should have heard those two howl.”

Ghost taps his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment. You try not to think about how much larger they are than yours. “Didn’t realize you could hunt that close to Washington.”

“West Virginia.” You correct him, averting your eyes once more. “At least in the summers. Up in the Appalachians.” You look out the window, to the rolling, ancient hills where mist hangs like a reverent sigh. “Same mountain range, you know. Just millions of years and thousands of miles apart.”

“Going t’tell me you’re Scottish?” Ghost intones dryly, keeping his gaze ahead, and you grin.

“Haud yer wheesht.”

“English.” Ghost replies, but there’s no real bite to the warning, and it only makes you giggle. Except it’s muffled by the sudden sound of a low, concerning rumble from the engine followed by an irritated clicking. Your eyes shoot to Ghost, who curses low in his chest and carefully manages to navigate the stuttering car off to the barely-there shoulder just as the engine begins to sputter.

“How much did you pay for this rental?” You ask innocently, and Ghost slams the steering wheel with his hand with a growl.

“Too much.” He seethes before putting the car in park and swinging outside in one fluid motion. You follow him just as he pops the hood and peers irritably at the engine inside. You manage to lean in and gaze down next to him, looking over the components just as Ghost towers beside you, annoyance radiating clear off his form.

“There’s a toolkit in the trunk.” He states, making no motion to retrieve it. You recognize an order for what it is, and despite the fact that you’re no longer on the field the familiar weight of Ghost’s leadership feels almost second nature. You reappear with the toolkit in hand a moment later, and rather than hand it to Ghost, you begin to unpack it yourself- ignoring the sideways glance Ghost casts at you.

“By the sound of it, it’s the starter.” You tell him, and when you gently nudge him aside for more space he makes way, stepping back to watch you bend over the engine with tools in hand. “Would you mind trying to turn over the engine for me?”

Ghost doesn’t respond, and when you glance behind you his eyes suddenly dart up to your face after looking elsewhere. “Ghost.”

He holds your stare for a moment before nodding and making towards the driver's seat. A moment later the engine attempts to turn over, the car shuddering and coughing before silencing once more. You poke your head a little further into the hood, trying to locate the source of the noise. Ghost reappears at your side a moment later, just as you fiddle inside the toolkit for a wrench.

Ghost is quiet, observant as you slowly work at the engine, peering over your shoulder close enough you can almost feel the warmth of him spill into your back. It takes everything in you to suppress a shiver at the fact he’s so close. Yet he offers no commentary as you work, no snide comments or dry humor. It would be unnerving if it weren’t for the fact you’re well used to it by now.

“Got it.” You declare a few minutes later, straightening up quickly- colliding with Ghost’s hand that shoots out to cushion your head from impacting the metal hood. “Oh- thanks.”

You hold up the retrieved spark plug victoriously, corroded and rusty from age. “Probably caused a misfire.” You declare. “It needs to be replaced, but we’d have to drive into town for a repair shop...” You trail off, face falling with realization before digging in your pocket for your phone.

No signal.

You look at Ghost, who stares back at you. Nonplussed, done.

and then, without another word, he turns around and starts walking.

It takes about three seconds of you gawking at his back before you’re running to catch up.

“W-where are you going?”

“Town.”

“That’s...15 kilometers away?”

“We’ve hiked farther with our gear.” Uphill. In the snow. You mentally hear him add.

“Shouldn’t one of us stay with the car?”

“No one is going to steal a car broken down on a country road.”

“What about our stuff?”

“Did you lock the car?”

“Well...yes. But-”

Ghost’s pace doesn’t falter, purposefully long strides as he hikes further up the winding incline. You follow him, casting a forlorn little look at the little green car parked on the side of the road. You’re loath to leave it, but between the choice of staying alone on the side of the road or going with Ghost, you know you’ll always choose Ghost.

The hike is quiet, just as it was in the car, and you find yourself focusing on the broad expanse of Ghost’s shoulders rather than the stunning scenery around you. You’re so used to Ghost bringing up the rear on long distance missions with the team, watching his own six, and by doing so watching everyone else’s, including your own. You’ve always trusted him to watch you, knowing that any possible threat from behind would have to go through him first. Now, you stare at the wide expanse of his back cloaked under his dark jacket and wonder if maybe he feels the same.

and you try not to imagine the bare expanse of his rippling muscles underneath.

“Kinda reminds me of Nepal.” You murmur after clearing your throat and quickly pushing away the image, and wonder if Ghost can hear you over the wind.

Ghost raises his head a little, but doesn’t turn. “Going hypothermic again, are ya?”

You huff, breathing warmth into your fingers chilled by the slicing wind. “A little.”

You nearly run into his back when Ghost suddenly stops, turning towards you. Before you can object, you watch as he shrugs off his thick leather jacket and uses a hand to drape it over your head.

Then he promptly turns and resumes walking.

Heat blossoms across your face, hot enough to warm you down to your toes. The smell of Ghost, of gun oil and charcoal and sweat permeates your very being. You try not to dizzy yourself with a lungful of it, try not to be obvious about scenting the blissfully warm and rain resistant jacket that you quickly wrap yourself in with zero complaints. Your heartbeat flutters against your ribs breathlessly, and you try to tell yourself the warmth you feel is just from the jacket, and not the helpless feeling of longing you keep secret there inside your chest.

You catch Ghost pause just long enough to look over his shoulder, but whatever choked thanks you can offer feels swallowed up by the wind.

At the top of the hill, you pause to take a breather, clutch the jacket a little tighter around you and let the wind ruffle your hair. Below lies a lush, green valley cast in soft hues from the gray shadowed sky, a tiny village tucked away at the edge of the long, sloping hills. It’s nothing more than a collection of houses, a shop or two, a petrol station, and a pub of some sort, but to you it’s the closest thing to civilization that you’ll see for the greater part of the day.

You don’t notice Ghost’s eyes on you until you turn to him.

“Olright?” He asks, and you pause for a moment, looking at his smoky brown eyes to wonder why they feel so heavy on your form.

A sound catches both your attention, and you turn to observe the sight of a small factory Ford making its way up the sloping valley road.

After a moment, you shoot Ghost a grin.

“Ever hitch-hiked before, LT?”

Before he can answer you sway to the roadside in sight of the oncoming car, jutting out your hip and sticking out your thumb before glancing back at him.

“Stay back a little, might scare them off with the whole serial killer get up.”

Ghost squints at you, hard, and you feel a little laugh bubble up your throat at the fact he looks almost offended. But he obediently takes a step or two back before crossing his arms and staring at the oncoming driver. If anything, you think he looks more intimidating than he did before.

Fortunately it isn’t enough to dissuade the driver, who honks at you both before slowing and pulling up beside you facing the wrong way.

“Do ye need some help, lass?” The woman in the passenger seat asks, accent thick. She’s a homely sort, round in the face with graying curls and rosy cheeks. Her gray-green eyes dart between you and Ghost behind you nervously, and it takes all your resistance not to shoot Ghost a look that says “I told you so.”

“Yes, actually, if you don’t mind. Our car broke down a while back and we were wondering if we could have a ride to town?” You ask politely, putting on your best smile and explaining quickly. “We tried fixing it ourselves but we need a mechanic.”

“Oh!” You see the woman visibly relax and flutter a hand at the driver, an equally older bearded man you assume to be her husband. “An American! You’re not that common around these parts. Archie dear, don’t you think we can give the nice girl and her fellow a lift?”

You nearly choke at that, opening your mouth to correct here when the husband, Archie, you presume, arches a thick eyebrow at you and looks at Ghost for a long moment.

“Aye, hop in.” He offers gruffly, jerking his head, and you thank him profusely before nodding to Ghost and sliding into the cramped backseat. Ghost takes up almost the entire space in the tiny car with his breadth, but manages to not squish you against the door despite having to tuck his legs a bit sideways to fit. You have to make it a point not to look at him lest you give yourself away.

It takes Archie a minute or two to point the car in the direction of town again, by which point his wife, who introduces herself as Ainsley, has begun to talk your ear off.

“Are you two on holiday?” She asks cheerily, all previous suspicion gone. “Visiting family?”

“We uh-” You spare a glance at Ghost, who’s stony silence offers no help. “We’re- yes. On holiday. Up to Balfour Manor?”

“Oh lovely! It’s quite the romantic spot, Balfour. We get lots of couples up that way. Archie and I had our handfasting ceremony there, ye ken.”

Oh.

You glance at Ghost, a little aghast at Aisley’s bold assumption. Yet when Ghost returns your stare, he looks oddly amused.

You feel your face warm, clearing your throat and attempting to speak. “O-oh well we’re not-”

“Balfour isnnae all that far from here. We might as well drive you all the way. We know the manager there, Lorna. She’s as sweet as they come. She’ll get you all set up and send someone for your car.”

She pauses, looking at her husband. “Aye, Archie?”

Archie grunts, looking at you in the rearview mirror before shrugging and nodding.

“That’s...very kind. Thank you. But you really don’t have to, we can wait at the petrol station-”

Aisley waves her hand at you. “Dinna fash yerself. We were going out for a drive anyway, got to stretch the ol’ bones. Now we’ve a story to tell at the pub!”

That seems to make Archie perk up a bit. “Aye.” He drawls, chuckling as he navigates down the valley road. “Bout the polite American girl and her burglar beau.”

“Archie!” Aisley gasps, swatting at him before turning to you apologetically. “He dosnae mean anything by it, lass.”

Ghost huffs beside you, offering Archie a withering look, but gives no indication of a reply.

“It’s alright.” You try. “He’s just-”

“Shy.” Ghost deadpans, and you arch an eyebrow at him. You can see his eyes laugh. Something breathless flutters in your chest.

“I was going to say ugly.” You whisper teasingly, low enough for him to hear- and Ghost leans in, crowding your space.

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Fix.”

Jesus.

He pins you with his coal dark stare, and you feel the sudden urge to look away from the intensity of his gaze. Your heart is racing in your ears, and the backseat suddenly feels too small, too close with the way Ghost suddenly is almost on top of you, heedless of your company.

Fortunately, it seems Aisley is too busy chastising her husband to notice the way Ghost has to practically crowded against the opposite door, his hand planted over the middle seat just close enough so his gloved thumb grazes against your hip through your jeans-

Only to sit back in a blink when Aisley pokes her head back again and begins to prattle on about the care rental salesman down in Perth and his shady marketing tactics. It takes all your composure to calm your racing heart and nod along politely despite the warmth flooding your face.

Beside you, Ghost looks oddly smug.

In the miles that follow, you find yourself glancing at him, and trying to match the memory of his moonlit face against the impenetrable mask that you’ve begun to see the cracks in.

- - -

Aisley and Archie end up driving you past town and into the hills where the manor rests upon a rolling, green slope that sits on the other side of the valley. Shadowed in mist, the ancient brick manor house overlooks the village below with tall windows and a tall, imposing archway which shelters a thick iron door. Carefully tended ivy crawls upwards along the brown brick towards the chimney, where a whisper of smoke is carried away by the gusting wind.

The car rolls to a stop in the long, gravel driveway that encircles a bubbling fountain and a collection of signs that likely details the land’s history. You long to peruse them, but Ghost is quickly shuffling out of the car with a murmur of polite thanks and quickly heading up the front steps. You scoot out behind him, remembering to turn and wave at the couple. Before you can trot after Ghost, Aisley makes a quick, urgent gesture for you to come closer.

“Have patience with him, lass.” She whispers with the window rolled down, halfway leaning out. her eyes dart to Ghost, who stands a ways behind you. “My Archie was a stiff, quiet one too. Give him time, he’ll let you in when he’s ready.”

You blink, and once again open your mouth to once again try and dissuade her of the notion that you and Ghost are a couple, but Aisley’s gray eyes shine knowingly, and in the end you smile quietly to yourself and give her a small whisper of thanks before turning to follow Ghost inside out of the slicing wind.

The interior of the manor appears to have blended well with the ages, renovated but kept at its bones a true token of history. The carved banisters and railings are worn with age, and the walls maintain their wood carved paneling. Yet the furniture is distinctly modern, and the grime of centuries past has been sanded down to nothing.

There’s a freckled, ginger-haired woman who greets you at the desk labeled ‘check-in’, and upon seeing Ghost you watch her instinctively raise her hackles at his mask and gigantic, looming stature.

“Reservation for ‘Riley’.” Is all he offers as his shadow falls over her, and it takes her a moment to process before she’s furiously typing at her computer.

You peek your head out from behind Ghost, and the woman who you assume to be Lorna instantly looks relieved at your smile.

“Sorry for the late arrival, we ran into some car issues on the road and had to hitch-hike. Do you have a way to call the repair shop in town? Neither of us have a signal.”

“Oh!” Lorna chirps, looking befuddled, then mildly distressed. “That makes sense. I tried to phone you, Mr. Riley. I’m afraid that we’ve run into a wee problem with your reservation.”

She swallows thickly, typing away at her laptop for a few moments. “We- we’re terribly sorry. We had a stag party booked prior to your stay, you see. The guests before you were a bit of a rowdy bunch. We’re still cleaning the walls after the…” She trails off, looking a little green. “...Well.”

“Does that mean the reservation is canceled?” You ask, brow knotting. Beside you, Ghost stiffens. You hear his gloves creak as his fists clench.

“No, no! We’ve just been forced to switch you over to a different cottage. It’s slightly smaller, but this one comes with a fireplace at least. We’ve also charged you the lesser price due to the issue, but we won’t be able to put you in your original booking seeing as we’re all booked up.”

You glance at Ghost, who appears mildly annoyed but otherwise calm. “O’lright.” He eventually offers after a beat, and Lorna’s shoulders relax visibly.

“Lovely. Let me finish checking you in, and then I’ll see about your car. I know the repairman in town, he should be able to drive out and see what the issue is.”

“It’s one of the spark plugs.” You tell her, stepping forward a little and ignoring the way Ghost’s bulk stays warm at your back. “Should be a simple change, but we’d like to at least get our luggage if possible.”

Lorna nods seriously, which is a bit of a humorous expression on her otherwise mousey features. “I’ll be sure to let him know. We’ll try to get your bags to you by this evening.”

Lorna quickly gives you a series of pamphlets and map of the surrounding grounds, pointing out the small trail that leads off into the woods towards the cottage you and Ghost will be staying in.

“There’s breakfast and dinner served in the dining room at seven am and seven pm, plus tea service at three. Otherwise you’ll have to run into town for lunch or groceries.”

Ghost nods stoically, eyes tracing over the hunting pamphlet, which Lorna sees him eyeing.

“Oh, and the hunting range is northwest of us. You’ll need to check in with us before you set off to make sure your hunting permit is in order. We do process any deer you hunt for a fee, otherwise you’re welcome to take it back home yourself.”

Ghost nods again, and murmurs a small thanks before tucking the pamphlet in his hoodie pocket and turning. You give Lorna a smile and a wave before following after him out the thick iron doors. The clouds outside have darkened to an ominous gray, with a whisper of moisture lingering in the air. You huddle deeper into Ghost’s jacket, falling in step with him as you begin to make your way towards the forest cottage.

You eye him out of the corner of your eye, finding his gaze directed forward. Yet he softens his stride, ensuring that you don’t fall behind him as you walk. One of a thousand silent things to fit further into the puzzle of him.

“Riley, huh?” You ask after a minute or two of walking, and Ghost glances at you before making a small, noncommittal grunt.

“Laswell gave you my file, didn’t she?”

She did, but the file had been so redacted that you’d only managed to get bits and pieces. SAS selection, top of his class, record breaking scores, details of his skills in covert infiltration, sabotage, and clandestine tradecraft. There was a mention of an extended leave, but after that? Black. Nothing. The words POW stood out among the endless redactions, but until his recruitment into the 141, Ghost’s file was an enigma, an anomaly, leaving you to fill in the gaps in between with the scarce glimpses behind the mask he offered you.

Then again, there were things in your file that you refused to share as well.

“You’re a mysterious man, Mr. Riley.” You smirk at him, and if you look close enough, you think you can see his mask tug at the corner with a smile.

“You sleep with that mask on?” You ask teasingly.

“Like a log.” He drawls.

“Might scare the deer off with that.”

“Brought a camo one.”

You gape at him. “You’re joking.”

Ghost looks at you, silent, deadpan. “I’ve been told I’m a comedian.”

You bark a laugh, out of pure surprise more than anything, only to quickly dissolve into a fit of giggles.

In the woods now, a thick grove of twisted trunks that shields you from the worst of the wind, you and Ghost enjoy a comfortable, mutual silence. Despite the fatigue from the day’s travel, the lingering unease from ruined plans and impromptu decisions, there’s a small warmth that curls inside your chest as you walk beside him, huddled in his jacket several sizes too big as the moorish wind sweeps across your cheeks.

“Well.” You say at last. “Broken car, nosy neighbors, and a just barely rescued reservation. They say bad things come in threes. I think we’re past the worst of it.”

As if on cue, a raindrop falls right on your nose.

You look up just in time for another to land on your cheek. Ghost pauses beside you, cocking his head, listening. There’s a distant rumble of warning from the sky above....

and seconds later the bottom drops out of the clouds and onto your heads.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Ghost swears, glaring up at the sky with putrid annoyance. Then he looks at you as you hold his jacket over your head to try and shield yourself from the worst of the downpour.

You gulp.

“I...might have jinxed it” You confess, and you think you see a vein in his neck throb.

Your clothes are soaked through by the time you get to the cottage, teeth chattering loudly as the cold quickly sets in. Ghost’s tension is palpable, a low rolling thunder that mirrors the stormy skies above. You try to remind yourself you are not the source of his ire, rather that the events of the day draw heavy on his shoulders and rest as a tightly coiled tension under the soaked fabric of his hoodie.

You drip water onto the mat of the entryway, hugging the jacket tighter around your shoulders as you survey the interior. It’s quaint, cozy. The entryway feeds into a small kitchen with old wooden cabinets complete with brass handles. Beyond is the living area, and without thinking you walk over to the old stone fireplace and crouch before it, heedless of the puddles you leave in your wake.

“It’s an actual fireplace.” You smile at Ghost, nodding to the wood stacked on the edge. “Do you remember your boy scout lessons?”

Ghost scoffs, striding past you to survey the living space with keen, wary eyes. You know what he’s doing on instinct- marking entryways, noting escape routes and barricade points, possible fire hazards and other threats. Like you, he’s able to leave the battlefield, only for it to exist in his mind.

As he checks the locks, you wander over to the two doors opposite of the fireplace, peeking inside one to find a bathroom, and the other to find the bedroom.

Except...

“Oh.” You whisper, and you sense rather than hear Ghost instantly pause behind you, crossing the room to hover tall and dark behind your shoulder as he looks at what’s caught your attention.

A single bed, neatly made. Between the pillows, a red rose.

You feel Ghost go stiff behind you just as heat warms your face all the way down to your toes.

“Did you...” You ask quietly, without turning towards him. “...Book us a single bed?”

“No.” Ghost replies, a little too quickly, terse, and scoots his massive frame past you to grab the red rose on the pillow and briskly toss it in the garbage pail. You hear him mutter an annoyance under his breath that you think sounds like “Bloody stag party.”

There’s a laugh bubbling in your chest akin to hysterics. You’ve slept close to Ghost before, sure. Hell, he kept you alive with his body heat before, but that...that was different. That was on the field, in the presence of teammates, things necessary for duty and survival. Here, in this quiet, romantic cottage where it’s just the two of you, where everyone seems to be operating on the understanding that you’re a couple...

“I’ll take the couch.” You say before you can catch the thought. “You- you’re too tall to fit comfortably. You can have the bed.”

Ghost looks at you, dark eyes meeting yours, and you’re reminded just how intense his gaze is. You feel untethered, unbalanced, caught in the gravity of his stare alone. For a single, daring moment you pray that he’ll find a reason to disagree, that he’ll insist you both sleep together, but eventually he blinks and nods.

“Olright.” He cedes at last, finally turning away from you, and it feels as if there’s something left unsaid between you both, something you’re not brave enough to voice yet. It curls under your skin, and you shiver hard, curling your arms around you for warmth.

“You’ll catch a cold.” Ghost nods at you, and proceeds to unzip his wet hoodie so it lands on the floor with a wet splat. “Should change out of those.”

You don’t respond for a second, too distracted by the way Ghost’s shirt clings to every plane of his muscled torso, the soft flesh of his belly, the dip between his shoulders. Eventually your brain catches up with you, and you blink, swallowing back the dryness in your throat.

“Into...what, exactly?”

Ghost looks at you for a beat, before grabbing a quilt off the end of the bed and tossing it at you. You gape at him, equal parts baffled and aghast.

“Y-you can’t be serious.”

“If you’d like to catch your death that way, by all means.” Ghost returns, and turns from you to begin stripping off the shirt that clings far too tightly to his massive frame. You stand frozen to the spot, hands clutching too tight to the quilt as the pale, scarred flesh of Ghost’s torso is slowly revealed. The ink on his forearm swirls all the way up to his shoulder, and from there you trace a long, jagged scar that forms a ‘T’ across his pecs with their pale pink nipples. You don’t miss the blonde thatch of hair that coils just below it, curls down his stomach towards his waistband as his fingers go for his belt, only to pause.

With dawning horror, you look up and meet Ghost’s heavy, lidded stare.

“Looking ‘respectfully’, Fix?”

You can feel the instant your neurons misfire, electrocuting into nothingness as you stand paralyzed with your mouth open, caught ogling him in a way that’s so far removed from what might be considered ‘respectful’ you may as well bury yourself alive. You try to speak, to say an excuse, to offer an apology, anything, but the way Ghost’s eyes burn into you, the way you can’t seem to budge from his stare roots you to the spot, staring at the pale expanse of his bare torso and forgetting how to breathe.

The clink of his belt as he resumes undressing sends you scrambling out of the room and slamming the bathroom door behind you.

As you bury your burning face in your hands, you swear you hear Ghost chuckle from the other room.

You lean hard on the door, waiting for Ghost to finish doing...whatever it is he’s doing, and desperately trying to ignore the torrent of images that flood your brain of his scarred, pale shoulders, the smattering of freckles at his clavicle, the wisp of hair trailing below his waistband...

It takes effort to silence the groan bubbling up in your throat, caught somewhere between desperate desire and baffled embarrassment. Still sitting in your sopping wet clothes on the bathroom floor, the water slowly puddling beneath you, you try vainly to compose yourself and think of something...anything other than the vision of Ghost’s bare, rain-slick body hovering mere feet away from you with nothing but a wall to separate you both.

It’s the shivering chill of your soaked limbs that eventually forces you up, carefully peeling off your wet layers and wringing them as best as you can in the sink before hanging them to dry. By the time you step under the hot stream of water in the shower to warm up, you’re shivering head to toe from the cold.

Steam curls around your bare form just as the sounds in the other room gravitate towards the living room, and once more you try to brush away the thought of Ghost striding around the cottage completely naked with little success. There’s a coiling sort of tension that runs southward at the image of your lieutenant’s muscled, bare figure just steps away from your own naked form. It’s not the first time you’ve caught yourself with such thoughts- thoughts you usually reserve for your bunk at base, alone, lights turned off as your hand slithers below your waistband.

Even now, your fingers glide southward, cupping your bare cunt with a shuddering little sound. You’re a little wet just by the sight of seeing Ghost dripping, shirtless, hands fiddling brazenly with his belt with little regard for your presence. You can’t help but think about what might greet you if he had pulled his pants just a little further down, letting you see the bulge there. Ghost is massive, towering over your frame, and you wonder if whatever he hides there is at the least proportional.

You spread your cunt a little, fingers slipping between your folds as you tip your head back against the tile with a soft little sigh. You’re not sure if it’s the water or the burning heat of your own skin that coils warm in your veins, sending a murmur of pleasure electrifying across your hips and up towards the small of your spine. Your fingers trace slow, languid circles around your clit, your other hand raising to cup your breast just as you surrender and allow the vision of Ghost to engulf your hazy thoughts.

Ghost, bare, strong, built like a tank and able to rip men apart with his bare hands. Ghost, with scars littering his skin that speak of a lifetime of brutality and yet his eyes- eyes that fix you with a stare so intense you wonder sometimes if you’ll crack under the weight, burn so brightly you turn to glass, obsidian as dark as his voice that purrs in your ear during missions. Ghost who’s dark, swirling ink traces shadowy tendrils across your mind and drags you down, down into the abyss of his phantom touch.

You keen a little behind your teeth, hips pushing up into your hand just as you shudder at the thought that it’s not your nimble fingers, but his.

You have to keep quiet. The last thing you need right now is Ghost knocking on the door and asking about the barely stifled whimpers and moans you’re swallowing down with deep lungfuls of humid air. It’s hard not to make noise though, especially when you think about the idea of Ghost walking in on you like this, caging you with his towering frame against the shower wall and purring down in your ear.

“Fix.”

“Ghost.” You whisper, barely audible as your breath hitches, eyes squinted shut with pleasure. There’s a whimper bubbling up your throat, and you bite the back of your hand just to silence it, fingers working your clit faster now, the dawn of your climax ascending rapidly. You think about him, about Ghost trapping you against the shower with nowhere to run, sinking two, broad fingers into you deep enough for you to feel his knuckles broken one too many times to be even. You wonder if even that is little compared to the cock that hangs heavy between his toned thighs, ruddy and pink and leaking at the thought of sinking himself into you.

“Fuck-” You gasp, a little too loud, but you don’t care because you’re close, close enough that you can feel yourself teetering on the razor’s edge, ever nerve in your body drawing taut, tighter.

You want him. You want him here, in the shower. You want his fingers inside you plucking at the sensitive point of pleasure inside your gummy walls that clench down on him with every retreat, trying to keep yourself full. You want him to split you open on his cock, to haul your legs up to his shoulders and fold you in half as he fucks you down into the bed, growling, snarling in your ear. You want to feel yourself bow off the bed with a little cry, walls rippling over his cock just as he huffs warm breath into your ear: “Good girl, Fix. Good fucking girl.”

When you cum, you have to swallow down a sob.

As the liquid warmth of your release unspools through your veins, you tip your head back against the tile, panting, trying to catch your breath. Your legs quiver as they hold your weight, muscles weak. It takes concentration to just remain standing in the afterglow of your shattering orgasm, shoulders heaving and brow pinched as you try to regain yourself.

You raise a hand to wipe the water from your face, holding the heel of your palm to your forehead and whispering out a little curse that’s muffled by the water. Outside, you can hear Ghost shuffling about in the kitchen and living room, and you pray by some grace of god he heard absolutely nothing from inside the shower.

It’s only after you’re steady on your feet again that you remember you have no clothes.

You groan then, heedless of the sound, burying your face in your hands and praying for some type of divine intervention or damnation. Inside the mist of your mind, Ghost’s chuckle haunts your thoughts.

You’re so fucked.

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halsinsheart · 10 months

Text

a/n: welcome to kinkmas day 1 aka me delving back into writing.

summary: halsin & reader get distracted while mushroom foraging.

tags: NSFW MDNI, size difference, gn!reader, pet names (love, little one, songbird)

wc: ~1.8k

kinkmas masterlist || reblogs > likes

“Woah, look at that one there!” You pointed to a unique shape poking out from the rotting wood of a felled birch, garnering the attention of your large companion who chuckled softly at your childlike fascination.

“Some Purple Jellydisc; inedible but interesting to look at nonetheless.” Halsin crouched down next to you, his expression equally as captivated by the fungi as yours was.

Food rations in the camp were stable at the moment, but considering how your party seemed to grow and with inclement weather looming on the horizon, you coaxed Halsin into foraging with you. However, coaxing might have been an overstatement because the druid all but jumped up from his spot where he was whittling in favor of joining you on your excursion. You were a decent distance into the forest now with a basket on your arm that was slow to fill, but in your defense, you were understandably distracted.

Halsin stood sturdy against the incoming storm’s wind, a pleasant buffer between you and the elements. It was also the most opportune moment for you to admire just how broad he was while your mind wandered with thoughts of him. The irony of the man built like a tree worshipping the Oak Father wasn’t lost on you, although you wondered exactly what type of oak he would be. Perhaps a Southen Live, with its wide expanse and evergreen foliage? Or maybe the Bur with its massive heights and impressive longevity?

“Ah, here we are- Lion’s Mane! Edible and full of flavor.” Halsin’s deep voice shook you from your rambling thoughts and as you took in the mushroom he was slicing, it was your turn to laugh.

“They really know how to appropriately name these guys. Shame that Turkey Tail isn't edible, it’d be funny to serve it with actual turkey. Hey, wait, there’s Old-Man-of-the-Woods!” You scrambled over one of the broken trunks in front of you to squat down in front of the fungi and cut the fruiting body off before placing it into the basket with the others.

“I’ve been here the entire time, little one, ripe for your harvesting.” The joke was delivered with his usual charming smile as he held his arms out in a gesturing manner towards himself.

Thoughts faltered within your head for a moment as you processed his words and tried to grapple for a response that didn’t make you sound like an immature teenager. “Ripe for my harvesting, yeah? If we don’t find too many more edible things I might have to take you up on that offer.”

“Of course, I'd hate to see you starve. By all means, consume me, little songbird.” His voice lowered at the same time he leaned in closer while his stance widened and his chest puffed outwards, only making him appear larger.

Swallowing the air stuck in your throat, you braced yourself on the tree behind you and looked up into the hazel irises of the druid. The pet name nearly made you whimper as he loomed over you, but his words gave you confidence. You would consume him wholly and entirely. Lips met in a fevered kiss and your hands cupped his face gently while his own covered a wide expanse over your hips, squeezing ever so slightly. Again and again, you kissed until you were gasping for air, leaning your head back to obtain some oxygen, yet Halsin persisted with kisses along your exposed neck.

“Breathtaking.” He whispered against your skin while his hands massaged your ass before he plucked you off the ground.

A surprised squeal of excitement left you as you clamored to hold onto him while you were lifted several feet off the ground. Finally, at eye level, you took advantage and kissed him again, reveling in the decadent noise that left his lips when your hands tugged at his hair. After a couple more tugs, his hair fell from its half-bun to frame his face and tickle at your cheeks. Your legs wrapped around his thick torso, though you didn’t have a chance of crossing your ankles around his back, your legs simply too short and his body far too wide.

Traveling your hands down his neck to his torso, you pulled at his tunic until the front laces came loose. Halsin shuffled you around in his arms like a mere burlap sack so he could shrug his shirt off, while you were left to ogle at his combined balance and strength until he brought you back to him. His warm chest was now bared to you and his hands made quick work of your shirt, being mindful not to tear it while he discarded it. When your bare skin met, it felt like a jolt of electricity coursed through you and ultimately ended as a pulse to your core.

“Please,” your voice wavered as you pleaded with him, tugging at his hair to no avail in an attempt to remove him from the sensitive part of your neck, only earning a breathy chuckle before he responded.

“Please what, my love? Share with me your fantasies and I’ll make them a reality,” his breath fanned across your neck as he relished in your scent, hands caressing up and down your back while his eyes closed.

A desperate whine left you when you realized he was making you voice your desires out loud, still, you were desperate enough to obey the demand, “Please, touch me more. I want all of you.”

“I’d love nothing more,” his last words were nearly a growl, reverberating down through your bones and back.

In one swift motion, you were laid in a soft patch of white clover that embraced you as gently as the druid hovering over you did. Your limbs splayed out as they welcomed the caresses from both plant and druid, the latter of which ever so slowly slid your bottoms off until they were discarded to the side. Halsin sat back on his haunches, fingertips still ghosting your skin while he simply admired the view of you splayed out just for him.

A shiver ran down your spine at the teasing sensation and you parted your legs in a silent beckon for him. Never one to ignore the call of nature’s desires, especially ones that concern your desires, Halsin obeyed. His movements were skilled and experienced, much more than that, he listened. Every movement, every noise, and every twitch you gave told him everything he needed to know about how you were feeling and what you needed from him.

So much so, that it didn’t take long for you to be drowned in ecstasy not just once or twice, but until your body movements were beyond your control and any attempt you made to quiet your noises was futile. Only by the grace of the gods were you finally able to beg for him to stop, and even then he took you over the edge one more time.

“You always taste divine, I can’t quite help myself,” he chuckled under his breath as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “but now you’re more than ready for me, little one. And I intend to give you all of me.”

“Ha, I’d expect nothing less,” you responded breathlessly, still recovering from the praise his mouth and fingers gave you, trying to ignore the way he used your words from earlier against you now.

Sweet kisses were peppered across your face as Halsin slowly slid inside of you, making sure to pause every time one of your small hands squeezed at his bicep. Your mind melted as he pushed deeper inside of you, each additional inch making your eyes roll back. The stretch burned yet the way his heavy hands massaged your hips emboldened you to take more.

Once his tip reached the deepest part of you, he pulled away from leaning over you to down at where you were joined and back up at you, “Well, not quite all of me, though I’m sure we can improve that.”

“Sh-Shut up,” you mumbled while your face heated with embarrassment at his words and your lower half relaxed in anticipation of what was to come.

“Fair enough. So long as you sing for me, my love,” his lips pressed kisses into your hands before holding them to his heart and leaning down once more to shield your smaller form from the rest of the world, his forearms resting in the clovers next to your head.

Nodding, you both agreed to his request and gave him the okay to start moving. He kissed you one more time before giving a testing thrust, after seeing you adjusted to that alright, he slowly picked up a rhythm as smooth as the flowing river. You weren’t new to this, weren’t new to him, you knew what to expect. And yet, when he put his efforts into chasing your high, you found yourself gasping and hands flying to hold onto his shoulders for stability.

The sounds of the daily nature activities didn’t stand a chance at drowning out the noises that resulted from your coupling. You only hoped you were far enough away from camp to avoid the walk of shame, though shame was far from any emotion you had over this. The number of times your pleasure crested was impossible to count while in your current mind state, with some ebbing right into another high.

Halsin was familiar with your body inside and out, and he could see the focus leaving your eyes as your mind went white from the overload of pleasure. His words of praise and sweet promises kept you grounded long enough for you both to worship and relish in the other’s body for one last, deliciously sweet high.

Heavy breaths mingled as your foreheads rested against each other and Halsin’s movements ceased except for the adoring caress of his hands that rubbed back and forth over your thighs. As your lucid thoughts returned to you, a smile spread across your face and your own hands reached out to brush a piece of hair from his eyes.

Decadent bliss filled the small clearing that you shared as pure unfiltered adoration radiated off of one of you flowing into the other and returned tenfold. Within this solace, where the forest surrounded you and hid your tryst away from the rest of the world, you longed for an eternity more of sharing your life with the large druid, whatever may come.

Whatever may come. Including the vampire elf’s near-tantrum when you returned to camp after many hours with less than adequate storage provisions.

©halsinsheart ~{2024}~ you do not have permission modify, copy, repost, or enter works into AI.

#🍄{my creations}🐻#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #halsin #bg3 halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin smut #size difference #x reader #gn reader #🥀kiss me once queue me twice #kinkmas

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mmavverickk · 11 months

Note

I “love” the betrayal fics where the entire camp suddenly believes that this new guy has actually accomplished all of Percy’s achievements and Percy lied to all of them, like camp didn’t literally witness half of those accomplishments and like Percy actually outright says “I did X.” Percy says almost nothing about what he does, Camp hears about most of his achievements from others

oh, we've all seen those fics. new guy shows up, he's actually Percy's half-brother. Annabeth suddenly only has eyes for him, everyone suddenly hates Percy because new guy does too, Poseidon may or may not disown Percy, and then Percy runs away and joins Chaos.

it's been copied and pasted thousands of times in hundreds of ways.

not a single one of those fics has Percy's departure from Camp happen realistically. it's not even impossible to grow resentment between Percy and the campers, which is what these writers seem to want. but the way they go about it? a cookie cutter asshole pied piper OC who steals the spotlight and turns Camp into a hostile mob of angry demigods? Unrealistic. 0/10 trope, literally 50% of why i will not read fanfictions with OCs.

have some realistic ways of turning Camp against Percy or vice versa:

- Percy could be captured. The area he was taken from is drenched in blood. no one could survive that, Percy's gotta be dead, so Camp doesn't look for him. after [x amount of time] of captivity and probably torture, Percy gives up hoping for a rescue. he discovers darker uses for his powers, frees himself, and doesn't go back to camp, because they abandoned him. opens the road for angst and emotion and tearful reunions etc.

- Camp is attacked. maybe it was a lazy beach day. no one is ready, only a few campers have their weapons. they're outnumbered and maybe surrounded and definitely out of options. Percy won't let anyone die. two ways to go about this one:

A) percy destroys the attackers single-handedly, using every tool in his arsenal, every fucked up thing he can think of to make sure his people survive. he controls poison and blood and drowns monsters and, i don't know, freezes them into ice cubes or boils their skin or stops their hearts. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves. or B) the armed campers fight back, but percy isn't fighting. he's busy keeping the injured from dying. how? he's controlling their blood. he won't let it deviate from its normal path. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves.

- [x god] sends Percy on a quest. but, surprise! it's not a quest! it's a trick, to lead Percy to his death! Percy survives, but can't go back or he'll be revealing he's still alive before he figures out why [x god] tried to have him killed and if there's anyone else behind it. fun conspiracy vibes.

- percy adopts a new pet, except this time it's a drakon. "Percy," Chiron says very patiently and not-at-all exasperated, "you can't keep a drakon as a pet. it will eat your friends and we don't have the space." Percy flips authority the bird and strikes out with his new pet to find somewhere they can settle. kinda cracky but written right it could be funny.

- Percy pisses Zeus off. not surprising. Zeus wants to kill Percy. not surprising. for his own good, Chiron sends Percy on a roadtrip/changes his name and sends him to mexico along with multiple witness protection agents/quest to keep Percy out of sight for a while to allow the king of olympus time to cool down, because we like when percy is alive and also the war poseidon would wage at his death would kill us all.

are all of them 100% realistic? no, but neither is Percy leaving Camp. Hera had to literally kidnap him and erase his memory to keep him away. the point is that they're different and plausible, and not the same exact trope repeated over and over again until i can tell you the plot of hundreds of betrayal works in one sentence.

#mav.ask #agree those fics are like 'oh woo hoo it's dark percy!'#no it's not its you butchering the books to make him into a poorly disguised OC #'look he changed his name to omega and he's leading chaos's armies'#percy jackson #percy jackson headcanon #pjo #heroes of olympus #dark percy jackson

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ninapi · 1 year

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Premise: The line between being rescued and captured can be very thin, it all depends on who gets to be in charge for the day. Battling against their own feelings, they were only allowed to feel one emotion each, even when they had feelings for the same person, they were really the same demon after all. Could it be possible they fell for a filthy treacherous human? Nah…

Word count: 4337

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Upper Moon Four╝

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hantengu wasn’t one of the most popular upper moons.

His squeaky cowardly self annoying everyone in the infinity castle to their cores. Though, that didn’t stop Muzan from entrusting him with a very important mission.

Even if in the end, the goal was there for every moon, Hantengu was personally tasked by the man himself to find the blue spider lily, he had to, there was no other choice.

Even if he wasn’t the strongest moon there was, he had an advantage the others didn’t, and that was the reason he was chosen for the task; he wasn’t one, but seven.

While he didn’t like to use his clones unless it was absolutely necessary, he knew he had the option to do so, and that was an advantage during reckoning missions. He could cover five times more land than if he was on his own.

But that wasn’t the case for this mission.

He had a lead, an important one.

The daughter of the local flower merchant had been talking way too much about this rare flower she’s been cultivating secretly, even behind her father’s back. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, she told someone it was a spiderlily, a beautiful one at that.

This had to be it, he was certain of that.

So going in his tiny form, he climbed into her basket full of flowers while she was attending her regular deliveries down town, allowing him to follow her home undetected.

When the basket was settled down though, a loud scream could be heard coming from the owner of the basket, prompting him to get out from his hiding place.

Her house was on fire, there was no structure left standing at this point, just a burning pile of ashes.

Even if you didn’t notice, he did.

About three members of the demon corps fled up into the mountains, while one of them was hiding something.

This had to be it, they figured it out as well and got rid of the evidence of its existence. But they forgot something very important.

If you did it once, you could do it twice.

And he had you in his possession now.

Though Muzan wouldn’t spare his life if he allows the demon corps to be in possession of said flower, he had to do something to stop them, fast.

Invoking his clones, he took two with him and sent the other two to keep you captive.

“Sekido, Karaku, take the girl to someplace safe, as far away from here as possible without driving attention to yourselves. Aizetsu, Urogi, you come with me, we need to stop those pesky rats before they manage to reach their camp.” even if he was trembling with fear at his own instructions, everyone listened and got to it immediately.

You were still stunned by the entire situation, your sickly mother was bed bound, there was no way she got to leave the house before it fell to the ground. Just thinking of the painful death she might have incurred in made you lose your senses to the outer world.

Noticing this, Sekido hit the back of your head with his staff, Karaku quickly reacting and catching you on the spot.

“Jeeze you could have said something before doing that, man…”

“There’s no time for that. Take her.” without further questioning, he cradled you to his chest, following his counter part deep into the forest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 1: Anger

Sekido decided to take on the first watch.

They didn’t know what you were capable of, you were just a weakling, a human with not even one ability besides cultivating flowers, yet he knew you were valuable, having you escape was not an option.

“Karaku, you stay outside, make sure none of those rats followed us and report to me anything out of place.”

Sekido was bossy, everyone knew about this, but it still irked his own clones. Karaku was quite his opposite and not the best match to keep around an angry Sekido, but he’d do his best to not get in his way and enjoy the pleasures a bright full moon could bring, a little bottle of sake making its way out of his pocket as he chose the best rock to sit on and drink to his heart’s content.

They found an abandoned cottage in the middle of the forest, way far in the south. Nobody should even guess they were there, the obvious path to follow being north, or east even, but definitely not south.

The cottage was fully equipped yet clearly abandoned, so Sekido tied you to a chair while he laid on the bed in front of the fire, keeping an eye open at all times.

You’ve been unconscious for hours, but who knew when you’d wake up and try to escape, he couldn’t just rest.

As if on cue, your eyes started to flutter, the light coming from the fire hurting them. “Where am I…” you looked around, this was not your house, nor any you’ve ever visited, though the fire being so up close reminded you of your mother’s demise and how you no longer had a house. “Father…I must find him!” thrashing around on the chair, you realized you were tied and was until that moment you saw the handsome demon staring at you with disgust.

“Stop moving around woman, you won’t escape with me guarding you.” his anger display startled you, making you recoil into the safety of the chair. “W-where am I…?”

“Ugh, somewhere up a mountain, not sure myself. You won’t be going anywhere though, that much I can tell you.”

“But sir, my father, I must tell him what happened to mother and the house!”

“If you’re talking about the gray-haired man selling flowers downtown, I’m pretty sure he’s also been killed, by the demon corps, mind you, not us. Something to do with the flower you were cultivating secretly.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew keeping secrets was a bad idea but why would someone be killed for a rare flower? This made no sense at all.

“The lily? Why would my house be burned to the ground and my family killed for a lonely flower sprout in a small pot, sir?”

“People stronger than you wanted it to themselves, you have no idea what you created.”

“I did nothing sir, the flowers cross pollinated on their own, I just separated it from the rest into a spare pot.” Sekido couldn’t care less for the process itself, he knew his main self wanted you to recreate it but that was honestly not his problem, his mission was to make sure you didn’t escape, that was all.

“Don’t talk to me like I was your friend, human. I’m here just to keep you from escaping not to listen to your rambling self.” his voice was gruff, came out as a low growl, a vein popping out of his forehead.

Until that very moment you hadn’t noticed his horns, this fascinating you more than it should. You should probably be nervous, terrified even, he was definitely not human, but he was beautiful, his eyes so alluring, you just couldn’t stop staring.

“What now?”

“N-nothing…was just looking around.” he could see through your bullshit, your lips were wet and trembling, your cheeks looked like a fall sunset, he’s never seen a reaction like that, all humans he’s met want to kill him right away and he wants to kill them just as much, but you had no blood thirst in the slightest, it was like if you were somewhat enjoying this.

You kept quiet for a while, not wanting to infuriate the demon that kept you captive any further, but your eyes kept wondering to his face, his long hair so shiny, probably super soft, his long fingers, the way one of them tapped on the mattress in annoyance each time he caught you staring, even his choice of clothing was entertaining to you, a fascinating subject, you almost wanted to paint him just to be able to remember his every bit, not like you could though, but one can dream.

Even if Sekido would tell you otherwise, each time he caught you staring, he wasn’t able to keep his own eyes away from your figure. The way your shyness battled the boldest side of you, the way you chewed on your lips, how you wiggled uncontrollably on the chair, how your chest raised and fell with your every breath. You were honestly a lovely prisoner, didn’t try to escape, followed commands, weren’t crying all the time, he wouldn’t mind this sort of missions more often, not like he would admit to any of this out loud of course.

“Sir?”

“Sekido.”

“Uhm?”

“Don’t call me sir, is disgusting. Call me Sekido, that’s my name.” you just nodded, smiling shyly his way.

“Sekido-san, can I have some water?” grumbling, he got up from the cot, pressing a water container he was carrying to your lips. The way you looked up at him through your lashes while wrapping your lips around the lid, entranced him like a spell, one he didn’t know the way out from.

Snapping from the dreamlike experience, he shoved some water roughly down your throat, then slammed the empty container against the floor angrily.

“There, now shut up, you’re not camping here, you’re a hostage. Don’t forget that.” without uttering another word he went out of the cottage enraged.

The sun was still far from coming out but he couldn’t handle it any longer, he’s never been this angry before, his hands were shaking, his entire body sweating, he couldn’t concentrate and all he wanted was to smash something, other than your lips with his own.

He needed to get out of there, quickly.

“Karaku, your turn. I must report my findings.” before getting an actual answer from his counterpart he disappeared into the forest, escaping from the surreal experience he didn’t know how to handle.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 2: Pleasure

When Karaku finished his sake, he went inside the cottage just to see you had fallen asleep.

It caused him to chuckle seeing your silly drolly face, the alcohol in his blood making everything a little funnier than it really was.

You couldn’t escape if you were asleep, even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to undo Sekido’s knots, so he would just take a nap, sunrise was coming, the birds were out and about already signalizing time for bed had come.

When you woke up from your slumber your body ached tremendously, just like your head. The images of the traumatic experience of the previous night plus the uncertainty of not knowing if your father was still alive or not adding to your distressed tired body. The skin around your wrists was now raw, your back hurt badly and you really needed to pee.

You noticed the handsome demon from the night before was nowhere to be seen and had now been replaced by another that somewhat resembled him but not quite at the same time.

His face was so relaxed, he was completely asleep, mumbling and giggling on his sleep, his hand constantly scratching his belly; he reminded you of a cat taking a nap on a warm sunny day.

Very different to the one from last night, Sekido.

Though, this one was just as handsome and a bit less scary, at least for now.

“Excuse me sir, I need to relieve myself.” he didn’t even budge turning on his other side so you would face his back instead, prioritizing his nap. The sun was still out, were you out of your mind?

“Sir? Please, I really need to….” your shy mumbles caught his attention, you were wiggling and squeaking like a little mouse, interesting.

“Can’t you just do it there? This bed is too comfortable.”

“Sir please, I couldn’t do such thing…it’ll be just a moment I promise not to escape.” to this he just groaned, you wouldn’t let him sleep if he didn’t do something.

“And what’s in it for me? I let you pee, and what do I get for that?” his suggestive tone made you uncomfortable, you didn’t know how to handle men like this, suddenly Sekido felt like a safer option.

“What could I possibly offer in this condition, sir?”

“Oh, I can think of many things you could do while still being tied up like that, maybe use those pretty lips of yours? It wouldn’t be fair if only you got to relieve yourself….” his smirk was honestly terrifying, peeing there was suddenly a better idea.

“I…um…where’s Sekido-San?” your question threw him off, making him go back to the bed, he wouldn’t waste his time with someone so unwilling.

“The hell would I know. He’s not here that’s all you need to know.” he caught a glimpse of your saddened face, and somehow he couldn’t keep to himself, he needed to see more of that face.

If you wouldn’t indulge in his very entertaining practices he had to do something to take care of his needs.

“Why? You miss him? Old meanie Sekido made a friend?” his teasing tone of voice caused a hurt frown to cast over your features, eyes glossier than before.

“I do, if you may know. He was nicer with me.”

“He was what? Wait wait, are we talking about the same demon? How did his staff look like? Maybe we’re talking about a different clone.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.” your trembling lip and saddened eyes were the responsible of the waves crashing insides his gut right now, he wanted to see your tears, wanted to hear you cry. He didn’t know pleasure could take this form, it had always been either carnal or bloody in the past, it confused him.

“Well he’s not here and never will be again, so deal with it. You won’t be alive for long anyways.” that’s all it took for your resolution to crumble, you were tired, in pain, worried, sad, hungry, tears kept coming out of your eyes like little waterfalls decorating your rosy cheeks, the light reflecting on them and turning your beautiful face into an iridescent work of art.

Karaku didn’t know what came over him but he had the need to feel you, his hand coming to wrap around your face, squishing the soft skin of your cheeks in awe. Who would have thought humans could be this pretty when broken? He’s been missing out, maybe toying with food wasn’t so bad after all.

“Stop it, you’re hurting me!” but the only thing leaving his lips at your pained outburst was a sultry low moan, his face turning in delight at the feeling of your tears going down his hand while you wiggled under him, powerless.

Panic filled your insides when someone walked into the cottage. For a second you thought it was Sekido, even if he was scary he would at least keep his distance and treat you accordingly, your current captor being as terrifying as one could be.

“Karaku, your turn to chase the rats away. We killed two, well Sekido did. We are still missing the one with the flower.” this creature was different from the other two, even if they basically had the same face, this one had wings; things were escalating quickly.

Karaku was still in a post bliss high, he didn’t know he could feel so much by doing so little, he wanted more of this, wanted to take you away and hide you someplace else, his main body would know about it, but not the other clones, he could keep you to himself without his other sides knowing.

Oh boy, all the things he could do to you….

But before he could keep dreaming of wonderful things, a gust of wind made him back off from you and out of the cottage.

“Now Karaku, I won’t face Sekido’s rage again, not because of you.” the sly grin on his face and the way he spoke somehow brought a sense of safety, he didn’t seem as intense, didn’t seem interested.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 3: Joy

Honestly Urogi preferred hunting the kids in the forest, it was way more fun, he’d get to fly around, play with them for hours, but now that Sekido was supervising the entire thing he wasn’t allowed to do as he wished, and was very much intrigued by his counterpart’s decision of sending him to guard you instead of Karaku.

Sekido had barked his instructions out, even angrier than usual. He was to come and take Karaku out of the cottage, not let him anywhere near the captive human. His instructions were usually more vague but it was clear to him he didn’t want Karaku around you for some reason. Not like he cared, honestly. All he wanted was someone to play with.

“So you’re the human girl Sekido is protecting. I see.”

“Protecting? Am I not a prisoner?”

“Oh you are, darling. But I was sent out to protect you from Karaku. Seems like I arrived just in time am I right?” he was smiling at you from his seat, his wings flapping behind him in a playful manner, it made your tears dry out on their own, a smile mirroring his own coming your way.

“You did. Thank you.” this caused the winged demon to flush uncomfortably, he isn’t used to others thanking him for anything, it was fun though, a wholesome experience, made his grin grow wider.

“Did he feed you? Sekido told me you hadn’t eaten when he left.” you shook your head, a loud noise coming from your stomach at the mention of food making Urogi burst out laughing.

“Karaku is such an idiot, I caught this fish on my way here.” he held a very much dead sweet water fish by its tail, pulling it out of his pants pocket as if it was the most normal thing to do in the world, making you chuckle. “Will you be cooking it or do you need some help?”

Your sweet laugh was invigorating, felt similar to when he’s roaming the skies freely, he thinks he can understand now the way Sekido and even Karaku was acting around you, you weren’t like the other humans who feared them, you weren’t food, but someone entertaining to have around, even for the grumpiest of them.

“Can you cook? I’ve always wanted a woman cooking for me, but I always end up eating them first.” he chuckled reaching behind your back to untie the intricate knot.

“Thank goodness I taste awfully then.” you laughed together for what felt like hours, the fish turning out great as you cooked it over an improvised bonfire with sticks as your only tools, the stars above you being the only witness of the odd pairing nightly adventure.

This one was fun, you learned his name was Urogi and he even showed you his tongue so you could see the kanji on it closely and stop staring, the act was more intimate than both of you had anticipated though and ended up in a cuddling session of sorts. More like he pulled you over to his chest while you both laid on the grass enjoying the beautiful starry sky above.

It didn’t feel like you were a prisoner anymore, he even made you forget about the awful couple of days you’ve had, though it was an odd feeling and you couldn’t keep it away from your gut.

You could escape if you wanted to, but being with Urogi was better than affronting a painful reality and that’s all what’s left for you back home.

Another night went by, another demon by your side, a tender one this time, but a demon indeed, his wings and horns being a constant reminder that you were in danger and probably wouldn’t live for long.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 4: Sorrow

Spending such a long time with demons made you get used to sleeping throughout the day, sunset being your new sunrise.

Urogi was happily humming a silly tune while skinning a small forest animal for breakfast when a very agitated Aizetsu came running in his direction.

“Where’s the human?”

“Ugh, inside why?” he thought he’d be the one in charge of taking care of you, that’s what Sekido had said the day before, why was Aizetsu there now?

“I will take her, you go cause a distraction.”

“Aizetsu what the fuck is going on, use your words properly.” groaning, he got up from the log he was sitting on, discarding your breakfast in annoyance.

“The flower, we found it. It wasn’t blue. She must be eliminated.”

Panic surged through Urogi’s veins, he thought you’d be staying with them for the long run, if Douma had human slaves they could certainly have one, right? They all liked her, he was sure Muzan-sama would allow it, all they had to do was convince Hantengu.

“What? Why? Even if it wasn’t blue, she knows how to make this weird color flowers, she might be able to get it done!” a defensive arm and wing came to block the entrance of the cottage, now afraid of his own counterpart.

A sad long sigh came out of Aizetsu’s lips, gently removing his other half’s arm out of the way, “I’m not trying to kill her, Urogi. I was sent here by Sekido to help her escape.”

Nodding in understanding, he moved out of the way calling for you, “(Y/N) darling, he’s Aizetsu, one of us. He’s going to help you get away safely, ok?” one of his hands cradled your face as if it was made of glass, his eyes roaming over your beautiful features to remember them properly.

“What about you? And Sekido-san? He’s still not back.” it filled his heart with warmth and joy how you didn’t want to leave them, how you worried about them, he was so full of happiness that it hurt.

“I’ll buy you some time, be safe.” he kissed the tip of your nose before flying out of the cottage, Aizetsu carrying your weeping self out of the back and into a darker side of the forest.

He ran silently for a good couple of hours until he felt it was safe enough to put you down, remembering he had cut your breakfast short with his appearance.

Kicking a tree, he caught an apple placing it on your hand as he sat quietly on the opposite direction.

You smiled at his kind selfless action, enjoying the sweet treat while admiring your not so captor anymore and more like savior. “Thank you for helping me, you’re very kind.”

“I’m no such thing, I’m a demon. Just following orders. It was very sad seeing Sekido so desperate. We share the same core after all.”

“Does that mean you all feel the same thing at the same time?” that intrigued you, they all looked the same but were so different from each other.

“Not really. We can only feel an emotion each, that’s kind of our thing.”

“So you’re always sad…?” he just nodded, his fingers playing with the straps of his shoes.

“And Sekido-san is always angry…Urogi-kun happy….how about that Karaku guy? he was…difficult to read….” your declaration made Aizetsu laugh just a tiny bit, it was a refreshing sight, “pleasure….”

“Oh…makes sense….” your face was as red as a tomato, even in the darkness of the dense forest he could see it.

It was immensely sad being able to understand his other parts, he knew just by spending some hours with you why they wanted to protect you, why they wanted you for themselves, but their actual form wanted you dead, unable to fight against his lordship’s wishes.

“Where are we going by the way?” the sun wasn’t too far away from coming and you were still pretty exposed, you knew he need to find shelter soon or he’d be in troubles.

“We aren’t going anywhere, just you. This is where we go in different directions to distract our main body, he thinks you’re with me, so he’ll follow me while you reach a safe place.”

“But the sun is almost up…can’t you come with me…? I was told the sun hurts you....” it clouded his heart to see how you were so concerned for his well-being, gut wrenching, tears were pooling on the side of his eyes, life was just so beautifully sad…

“I’ll be fine. You need to go now, he’s getting closer. Find a safe place to hide and don’t come out of there for a week. Never go back to your old house…or you’ll get yourself killed…”

He got up, dusting his pants as he got ready to leave when he felt your tiny hand clutching at his wrist, “But what about you guys? How do I get to find you…?” your eyes reflected his, sadness had never been a shared feeling among those who surrounded him, they were always angry or scared, this was the first time he felt understood, a stray tear leaving one of his beautiful eyes as he removed your hand gently away from him. “It’s very unlikely we’ll ever see each other again, and that’s for the best; otherwise we’d have to kill you next time.”

Leaving someone behind had never been this hard, being one split into different bodies had never been this heavy.

Once Hantengu absorbed them all back a flood of feelings kept pouring deep into his shaky terrified heart.

He would get killed if his lordship ever finds out that his clones had all fallen in love with a human rat…a lovely…beautiful human rat at that.

Being a demon, had never felt this lonely before.

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rise-my-angel · 7 months

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No slander to my boy book Robb, but they went fucking hard with Robb Stark by making him an adult in the show. Every scene he consistently walks into the room and wins the big dick contest without ever having to unzip. He has probably some of the most badassly delivered lines in the whole show.

"They've all sworn to defend my father have they not? Now we see what their words are worth."

"I will march back North, root you out of your Keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker."

"Tell Lord Tywin, winter is coming for him. Twenty thousand northerners marching south to find out if he really does shit gold."

"One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees? This war is far from over."

"You insult yourself, Kingslayer. You've been defeated by a boy, held captive by a boy. Perhaps you'll be killed by a boy."

"He shall suffer the same fate as my father. Only, I don't need a servant to do my beheading for me."

"I will litter the south with Lannister dead."

"And Theon? I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why, and then I'll take his head myself."

"Jaime Lannister has played you for a fool. You've weakened our position, brought discord into our camp, and you did it all behind my back. Make sure shes guarded day and night."

"I wanted him to chase us. Which he would have, because he is a mad dog without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now. Instead I have a mill."

"Hang him last so he can watch the others die."

Some I can't even include because the then line itself isn't even that badass, its the utterly dominating way he says them. Like the quiet but angry way he goes "I'm not your boy, Lannister." Or the way he responds to Jaime telling him 3 victories don't make him a conqueror, "Its better then three defeats." Then pushes Grey Wind forward to snarl in his face and walks out of the cell just to scare the shit out of Jaime.

And let's never forget Robb standing in pure anger with his shirt half open and chest hair on display as he yells at the top of his lungs "THEY WERE BOYS."

Show Robb Stark was just on another level entirely.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #robb stark

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morning-star-joy · 1 year

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a gold rush (Tommy Miller x F!Reader)

Unfinished & Discontinued

Pairing: Post-Outbreak, Tommy x F!Reader

Summary: After your home is no longer safe, you join the Fireflies with the promise to patch up their wounds as a nurse. One Firefly in particular makes sure you feel welcome, and you develop a hopeless crush on Tommy Miller, unaware that he feels exactly the same about you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI Mentions of sex (not with each other), Mutual Pining, Friends (Idiots) to Lovers, Age Gap (about 20 years), Pet Names (sweetheart, sugar, darlin'), a little Angst, Language

Wordcount: 4.5k

A/N: I'm gonna be real with you guys, I don't really know where this series is going. BUT I am hella vibing with it, and I hope you guys enjoy whatever it is. It also has some hopefully pleasant little surprises for my ASHWAH reader friends!

“Hey, girl.”

The two words were directed towards you, meant to catch your attention, but your mind was nowhere close to the present as you stared into the small fire at the center of the little camp you found yourself sitting in.

It hadn’t even been 48 hours since you had up and left your entire life. You had hardly left your hometown of Portland, Oregon before the Outbreak, and you certainly hadn’t been outside of the tall walls of the QZ ever since the world fractured into pieces because of the Cordyceps.

Not until all hell started breaking loose inside those walls, and your mother had risked everything you both had left to ensure your survival.

“Hey,” the voice said again, a bit louder this time, and you curled within yourself further, hands grabbing your own shoulders tightly as the person snapped their fingers at you this time, then going so far as to whistle at you, like you were some kind of dog they had bartered for. “Girl. Hey.”

“Shut up, will ya?” another voice snapped, and you winced at the harshness in it, even as it wasn’t directed towards you this time. “Her name isn’t ‘girl’.”

“Well, she hasn’t told us what it is,” the first man scoffed, and you turned your head away from the discussion, resting the side of your face on your knees as you stared blankly out into the forest surrounding you, the tall trees keeping this small band of rebels safe from prying eyes. “What am I supposed to call her?”

“How about ‘ma’am’, you dumb fuck,” the other voice replied almost angrily, and you wrapped your arms around your knees now, holding them tight to your chest. “Learn some decent manners, why don’t you?”

There was the sound of shuffling around the fire then, but you tuned out the noises again once the conversation about you seemed to reach its end, your eyes unseeing as you stared into space until footsteps approached you.

Even then, you didn’t realize they had actually stopped in front of you until a voice quietly greeted you, “Uh, excuse me. Ma’am?”

Silence greeted whoever was trying to speak to you now as you continued to stare at the breeze rustling through the leaves of those trees, memories of the past few weeks flashing through your mind, holding you captive in your grief until that voice spoke again, closer this time, “Ma’am?”

Your head jerked up, a gasp escaping your lips as you scrambled back from the man who had crouched in front of you.

He held up a hand, palm turned towards you in what was probably an attempt to show you that he meant no harm, but it was the bowl of something that smelled decent enough to at least be edible in his other hand that grabbed your attention.

His eyes followed your gaze, and he laughed softly under his breath, giving you a crooked smile before offering the bowl out towards you.

“Figured you might be hungry,” he said softly, gesturing for you to take it as you continued to stare at him blankly. “Don’t think I’ve seen you eat since we picked you up a couple days ago.”

You frowned, glancing back and forth between the bowl and his face.

It was a face that looked kind enough. Older than yours, a bit weathered, but not as hardened as you had seen other men become over the harsh years since the world had ended.

In fact, there was something almost distinctly kind in the wrinkles on his tan face, a softness in the crinkle of his brown eyes as he lifted his other hand to point a finger at the bowl.

“You worried it’s poisoned?” he asked, arching a brow as he picked up the spoon resting in it. “I can taste test it for ya, if that’d help.”

A laugh slipped past your lips then, soft and hardly audible, your own eyes widening as much as his at the sound of it.

You hadn’t made so much as a peep in the two days you had been traveling with this group of rebels.

Fireflies, you reminded yourself, remembering the horror stories that FEDRA had fed you about the rebellion throughout your education in the QZ.

But FEDRA had also claimed that their own faulty government was full of the good guys, and they took your father’s life in front of a crowd to make a point, so you figured you should take the agenda spread against the Fireflies with a grain of salt.

Still, you couldn’t help but be scared. Up until now, you had been lucky enough to still have your parents by your side through every twist and turn this screwed up life had thrown at you. You were lucky you had had your family by your side for 25 years, even if you were now alone.

Surrounded by strangers who you were supposed to trust, who you were supposed to help, trading your wellbeing for taking care of theirs with the medical skills your parents, both doctors before the Outbreak, had taught you since the collapse of society.

Right now, though, this Firefly was looking at you with a small smile, chapped pink lips curled up under a dark mustache, and you found yourself leaning forward towards the bowl he was holding.

At your movement, he held it out further, letting you slowly reach out to take it, bringing it back to rest on your knees before picking up the spoon and taking a tentative bite.

Definitely not the best meal you’ve ever had, but you only just then realized that you were fucking starving.

And so you dug in without preamble, only pausing to duck your face away with a blush when the man chuckled quietly across from you.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said kindly, voice rumbling deeply from a broad chest, and you looked up at him again, brows furrowing as you finally picked up to a distinct drawl in his voice, an accent that very much did not belong on the West Coast. “Not laughing at you, promise. Just glad you’re eating somethin’.”

You actually believed him, for some reason. But you still focused on slowing down your pace, not wanting to embarrass yourself as much as you didn’t want to puke up the measly meal later. Your knees came down from where they were pulled up in front of your chest to sit cross-legged, bowl in your lap as you took your time eating out of it until it was empty.

“There ya go,” the man said with another smile, your full stomach flipping pleasantly as he mumbled a quiet, “Good girl.”

Your fingers trembled on the bowl as you passed it back to him, and you figured he would get up and leave you then.

But he stayed crouched in front of you, dark brown eyes glancing over your face before he asked softly, “Can I have your name, sugar?”

Lips parting, you exhaled softly, brows knotting together as you considered turning away again without saying a word.

Though when you saw the sincerity in his gaze, you found your name slipping from your cracked lips, the first thing you had said in days, and you watched the man brighten instantly at the sound—whether your voice or the giving of your name was the cause of this, you didn’t know.

“Pleasure to meet ya, sweetheart,” he said warmly, shifting the empty bowl into one hand so he could jerk a thumb back towards himself and introduce himself with a small grin that was nearly mischievous, “Tommy.”

“Tommy,” you repeated, giving a slow nod before glancing away when his grin grew wider, eyes warm and almost sparkling at the sound of his name being spoken by you.

“You got it,” he said warmly, only shifting to rise to his feet when it was clear you wouldn’t look back at him again. “Anything else you need, sugar, just lemme know. I got your back here.”

Finally, you glanced back up at him, but he was already looking away, broad back turned to you as he walked towards the other side of camp, and you watched him go the entire time.

When another one of the Fireflies made some snide remark about him flirting with the new girl and Tommy told them to fuck right off, you bit your lip, holding back a smile as you turned your face up towards the sky this time instead of out into the dark expanse of forest around you.

You felt the warmth of a gaze on you a few more times that night, but you fought to ignore it, even as you went to bed with a stomach full of butterflies along with the meal he had given you.

Tommy, you had mouthed the name out silently before you fell asleep, shaking your head to yourself as you felt stupid at how such a small act of kindness had uplifted you so much.

But it was a cruel world, and those little moments made all the difference.

One and a half years later, and those little moments of kindness still made all the difference to you.

You had tried to pass on the small act of sincerity that had been shown to you when the Fireflies first picked you up to the injured rebels that you treated over the months that passed. Once you found your stride amongst the rebel group, you made sure to offer each person you healed smiles and soft, kind words, as well as treatment for however they had gotten hurt.

This attitude certainly had a positive effect amongst the group. While you remained soft-spoken even after overcoming your initial fear at your new life, you tried to make those around you feel safe, whether you were making sure they weren’t bleeding out, or offering a warm greeting as you waited in line for lunch.

Over time, you came to be held in high regard by many members of the rebellion, for both your capabilities as a nurse and the feeling of safety that you had created inside your small medical tent that was hitched up wherever your group found itself across the country.

Unbeknownst to you, your warmth had drawn in quite a few admirers, men and women alike who tried to find any excuse to wind up in your tent.

And you gladly saw anybody who needed mending of either their body or their soul, but none of them managed to bring a smile out of you quite like Tommy Miller did.

The man certainly had a soft spot in your heart, weaseling his way in there to stay after he had taken the time and effort to welcome you into the Fireflies, making sure you were warm and well-fed on your initial journey from the Portland QZ to what had been their current base back then.

Since then, your group had shifted locations a few times, but Tommy never strayed too far from you.

It’s not like the two of you were the best of friends, or anything. In fact, you didn’t even think you really talked that much. But he still made time to pop his head into your medical tent, asking if you had slept well or bringing a meal to you when he knew you were working late and hadn’t taken a break to take care of yourself yet.

“Gotta keep ya in tip-top shape, sugar,” he’d smile down at you, a small grin that made your heart skip a beat at how it almost looked sneaky, like he knew something that you didn’t. “What would we do if you collapsed on us or somethin’? Who would keep you together?”

You’d bite your lip whenever Tommy would make a comment like that, ducking your head back down to continue going over inventory, trying to distract yourself from the hope that he would be the one to catch you if you ever fell.

Because, okay, you may have just a tiny crush on Tommy Miller.

But it was harmless, just a simple admiration of his handsome features and steadfast reliability from afar.

Nothing wrong with picturing him laying with you on lonely nights, smiling stupidly into your pillow as you imagined his arms around you, or biting your lip hard to keep from moaning when you pictured his fingers down between your legs instead of your own.

The latter didn’t happen often, as your life was too caught up in a fast-paced whirlwind with your work keeping the Fireflies patched up and healthy.

Whenever you had a moment to take care of yourself, though, it was his face that appeared in your mind, imagining that smooth Southern accent whispering those sweet little pet names he had for you in your ear until you were coming around your own fingers, wishing he was filling you up to bring you to release and not having to do it yourself.

Besides, you had heard stories of Tommy’s…prowess, for lack of a better word. He by no means got around, but there were a few ladies amongst the Fireflies who had their tales on just how good he could make a woman feel.

You tried not to let it get to you. Tried not to be bothered that one of the women Tommy sought out under the cover of night for much-needed release wasn’t you.

During those moments when the jealousy did hit, you would scold yourself for feeling such a way, reminding yourself that you were all adults here, and a silly little crush that he couldn’t possibly know about didn’t mean anything.

Still, you enjoyed the rush of serotonin you got every time he poked his head through your tent to flash you that charming grin and share a few words with you before heading off to wherever he was going next.

When your tent flap opened this time, you were hoping deep down that it was him, but you weren’t all that disappointed when you saw that it wasn’t.

“Again?” you sighed, glancing over the woman who had walked in with bloody knuckles that she was holding in one hand.

“Don’t give me that look,” she sighed, walking over to plop herself down unceremoniously on one of your cots. “It’s all consensual.”

“Yeah, but you know Marlene would be upset if she knew about these fights,” you tried to say sternly, but your voice was laced with concern as you walked towards one of your closer friends in the Fireflies, worried that she would end up with something worse than bruised knuckles if word got around that she was partaking in these unsanctioned brawls for entertainment.

“Well, Marlene can kiss my ass,” was the snarky reply, and you fixed her with a stern look, sighing again when she only shot you a cheeky grin at your lack of amusement at her sass.

“I swear to God, Carina,” you muttered as you pulled out some antiseptic and gauze to begin to treat her knuckles, watching as she straightened, refusing to wince at the sting out of stubbornness to never show a hint of vulnerability that you knew she hid deep down. “If you get yourself kicked out of the Fireflies—”

“You’d follow me out of undying loyalty?” Carina supplied, wiggling her dark eyebrows at you, and you groaned, pressing the cotton soaked with antiseptic harder against a cut to make her wince with a quiet hiss at the sting.

“Your sister would,” you said flatly, watching as a crack finally formed in the carefully nonchalant facade she showed the world before glancing away from you. “So would Tommy.”

A frown pulled down on the woman’s face, making that scar running horizontal across her cheek more prominent, and suddenly Carina seemed much older than you knew she was.

You both were around the same age, and when you arrived at the first base camp for the Fireflies a year and a half ago, she was quick to take you under her wing and show you around the place.

“Looking like a goddamn lost puppy, walking around all wide-eyed like that,” Carina had said as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, directing you away from the men’s bathhouse that you were red in the face from almost stepping into by accident.

Long dark hair pulled into a ponytail and equally dark eyes that were as guarded as her soul, Carina took no shit from anybody, but also was fiercely loyal to those she cared about.

You were lucky that you had become one of those people over your time spent in the Fireflies, spending most of your free time with her and her younger sister.

“Does Gracie know about these fights?” you said slowly as you wrapped Carina’s cleaned knuckles in a bit of gauze, watching as the tough woman grimaced at your question and looked away.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” she murmured, though the way she couldn’t look you in the eye now let you know she didn’t believe a word she was saying.

Grace was young, not even 16 years old, and the center of Carina’s universe. You knew keeping anything from her younger sister killed your friend inside, and while it was a little under-handed, you hoped that bringing it up would get her to stop risking her place in the Fireflies by taking part in these fights.

You decided to leave the topic to rest at that, letting Carina stew over her actions and the possible consequences as you packed up the supplies left from what you had used to take care of her hand, when loud footsteps entered the tent.

“Seriously?” was the first word that slipped from the person who had just walked in, and your heart skipped a beat, stomach flipping as you focused hard on continuing to put your things away instead of glancing up the instant you heard his voice.

“Don’t give me that,” Carina groaned, pushing herself off the cot to head over towards her best friend who you saw was glaring at her in disapproval when you dared a glance over at him. “I already got enough shit from Doc over here.”

“Not a doctor,” you said, the same thing you always told her when she called you that, but Carina was crossing her arms and glaring at Tommy as he did the same to her.

“You gotta stop pulling this shit,” he said firmly, but not unkindly, his eyes warm and caring as he glanced over her face. “You’re gonna get in deep shit one of these days for doing this sort of thing. What the fuck is mi estrellita supposed to do then? What am I supposed to do?”

Carina’s eye twitched at the fond nickname Tommy always used for her sister, spinning on her heel to stalk out of the tent without another word.

“Rina—” Tommy called after her, but she was already gone, and he rubbed a large hand down over his face with a quiet groan.

When his hand fell to his side, his gaze finally landed on you, and you straightened immediately, butterflies dancing through your stomach as you watched those dark brown eyes soften further while a small smile flickered onto his face.

“Hola,” he greeted warmly, and you gave a hesitant smile back, trying not to show your enthusiasm that he was now in your tent as you played with a pen in your hands from where you had sat down at your desk.

“Hey, Mr. Miller,” you said quietly, nervously tapping the button of the pen as his smile got a bit larger, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his hip before leaning forward a bit from where he still stood close to the entrance of the tent.

“Tommy, sweetheart,” he said kindly, and you inhaled sharply through your nose at the way his accent wrapped around the term of endearment, blanketing you in a warmth that made your spine tingle pleasantly as he watched you fidget with your pen. “You’ve been here almost two years, you can call me Tommy.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving a nod to show you had heard him, even as you both knew you wouldn’t listen.

Yes, you had called him Tommy when speaking to him on your journey to the base. You still referred to him as such with others.

But as your little crush grew more and more, you resorted to referring to him respectfully instead, trying to keep a barrier between you so he wouldn’t know how deeply you ached for him, worried his first name would come out as more of a sigh of longing if you spoke it again.

“Hey, uh,” Tommy cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder towards the tent flap before taking a few steps closer to you, and you held onto the pen tighter, watching him approach you as his thick brows furrowed and he lowered his voice to ask, “Can you keep all this between us?”

Your shoulders deflated, sighing quietly as you glanced over his face. “I’m not gonna turn in Carina, Mr. Miller. She’s my friend.”

Tommy sighed then, a quiet sound of relief as he leaned back away from you, giving a nod as he murmured, “Alright, good.”

He reached a hand up to rub over his mustache, and you glanced away quickly, trying to ignore the surge of desire you felt and staring down at your carefully written out agenda for the day instead.

Behind you, Tommy’s footsteps echoed through the tent as he walked back towards the entrance, but you heard him pause before calling back towards you, “Thanks, sugar.”

You looked up, glancing over your shoulder to expect him to be gone, but he was still standing there, gazing at you with a look in his eye that was still kind, still warm, but something else that you couldn’t place that made your heart race.

But that look was gone in an instant when you made eye contact with him, though the kindness remained as he clarified, “For patching Rina up. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you said softly, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you smiled up at him, watching as he stiffened before adding, “I’m not gonna let Gracie’s big sister get hurt.”

Tommy laughed softly then, lips curling up into a small smile as he gave you a nod of respect. “Appreciate everything you do for us around here, darlin’. Don’t know where I—we’d be without you.”

Your eyes widened, your pen nearly slipping from your grasp as you caught onto what he had been about to say, and your head whipped back around to stare down at your desk again.

“No problem,” you murmured, pulling your daily agenda closer to you, staring down at your own handwriting as you waited to hear the tent flap close behind Tommy when he left.

It took another moment or two before he did, and you felt the warmth of his gaze on you the entire time before he was finally gone.

God dammit, you had it so embarrassingly bad for that smooth bastard.

“Tommy Miller, you’ll be the death of me,” you muttered to yourself with a sigh, shaking your head to get yourself out of the pining stupor he always trapped you in as you set about the rest of your work for the day.

Little did you know that he was pulling himself out of a similar longing with each step he forced himself to take away from your tent, just like he did every time he gave in to wanting to see you.

Tommy felt like a goddamn fucking schoolboy with a playground crush, and he despised it.

He was a grown fucking man, one who wasn’t shy about treating a woman with the care and attention that she deserved.

But around you, Tommy found himself at an utter loss for words. Faced with your soft voice and gentle smile, the man nearly melted into a puddle every time he was around you, marveling at how you could manage to make him feel a way that he didn’t think he had ever felt, even before the world went to shit.

He was not the first nor the last man to feel this way about you. In fact, he suspected that having a crush on you was slowly becoming a fucking requirement to be a part of the Fireflies.

Hell, even Carina praised you with a twinkle in her eyes, and Tommy knew perfectly well that there would be a line out your tent if you ever decided you needed a companion to keep you warm at night.

A lot of effort was made by him not to think about you in that way. You deserved better than to have a place in his dirty thoughts, and when he found himself growing hard at the image of you naked under his sheets for him, he’d seek out a way to satisfy the need to cum, even if it wasn’t in you.

But, fuck, he was secretly mortified by the amount of times he imagined you when another body was beneath his, fucking into one of his casual partners as he pictured your face screwed up in pleasure instead. He’d squeeze his eyes shut and try to imagine how your soft voice would sound moaning for him as he made you come twice as hard as he did whenever he thought of you while he fucked somebody else.

Tommy would stare up at the ceiling those nights, letting a woman who was very much not you fall asleep on his chest as his mind would run rampant with thoughts of how it would feel to hold you close, to shower you with affection that he wasn’t quite sure he even knew how to give.

That was what kept him away from you. You were so soft, so sweet, and deserved the entire fucking world laid at your feet.

Something that Tommy wasn’t sure he could give to you.

He had done things, terrible things, that he wasn’t sure you could live with if you knew. The thought of you not being able to look him in the eyes if you were aware what his hands were capable of, what his hands still did for the Fireflies—it tore him apart, and so he knew he had to keep you at an arm's length, even as he was dying to pull you closer.

Tommy stayed away from you, kept himself away, fighting with the urge to seek you out from fear that one day he would throw caution to the wind and pull you right into his arms when you flashed him that sweeter than sugar smile that made his heart ache in a way he had never felt before.

And if you ever did say his name again, Lord have mercy, he may just fuck you in that tent right then and there.

That was why Tommy had to keep himself away from you. Because more than he wanted you, he respected you. You kept this godforsaken rebellion together, and you deserved so much better than having his dirty hands on you, tainting something so rare and precious.

So he admired you from afar, dreaming of another life where he could have held you and cherished you how he wished he could do now.

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lavenderfluorite14 · 7 months

Text

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 3: Kiss

Summary: Astarion sets some boundaries, then drinks his fill.

Chapter Warnings: 18+, Explicit Content, Blood Drinking, Brief Somnophilia, Masturbation.

Full tag list on AO3. Chapter 1. Chapter 2.

A/N: Happy Patch 6 Update Eve! Also Happy Valentine’s Day, I love everyone who has clicked on this fic so I’m updating early. Please enjoy some Astarion self-love smut. ❤️‍🔥

The next morning Tav emerged from her tent well rested and alert. She made her morning rounds as usual, but each time Astarion thought she was making her way over to him Tav would instead veer away, seemingly captivated by some other distraction. Was she ignoring him? Was Tav going to leave him at camp with the other rejects while she adventured with her favorites? His uncharacteristic moment of shyness last night was already costing him. When Tav finally made her way over to him he slipped on his silkiest smirk. “My darling,” he immediately begins, “last night you were positively divine-"

“Wait, Astarion,” Tav interrupts. He stops, his monologue dead on his lips.

“I’m sorry for overstepping last night. I know you only wanted my blood.” Astarion blinks owlishly at her. She was apologizing to him. He could work with this. “For what it’s worth, I’m very disgusted with myself. But that doesn’t excuse my-”

“Oh, it’s not your fault that I’m so irresistible.” Astarion waves his hand. “I just wanted to make sure that you were alright,” he insists. Tav reddens, her blood blooming beautifully in her cheeks.

“I’m alright, Astarion,” Her fingers brush the amulet, which glitters against her throat. “This was a really thoughtful gift.” His stomach does a weird little flip-flop that he doesn’t understand. He knew she’d like it, that’s why he gave it to her. It benefits him.

“I’m so delighted,” he says. It’s not entirely a lie and a small frisson of fear coils at the base of his spine.

“But if you are uncomfortable with our arrangement, we can make some very simple adjustments.” He cocks an eyebrow playfully. “We can do this the traditional way. I’ll come to you at night after you are soundly asleep in your bedroll. ”

Tav shifts uneasily. “But are you sure-"

“And next time, I’ll make sure I’m quiet,” Astarion leans into her, invading her space. “I’ll take just enough to keep me sated,” he lowers his tone suggestively, “and just enough to keep you wishing for more.” Tav swallows at his innuendo, but she keeps her voice even.

“Whatever you are comfortable with, Astarion.”

“I promise, I am very, very comfortable,” Astarion lies. Now, shall we begin the day? These goblins won’t kill themselves.”

The blighted village was a depressing eyesore, but a small treasure trove of resources lay hidden behind its crumbling walls. Astarion could have wept when they discovered a bathtub on the upper floor of an apothecary. The alchemist who had lived there, Ilyn Toth, had been quite well-stocked. On the first floor they found all kinds of herbs, potions, and trinkets. Astarion was raiding a wine rack when Karlach called out to them: “Oi guys! There’s a hatch over here! Bet there’s even more stuff in the basement.”

More potions, more books, more trinkets. Karlach even took a painting off the wall at Tav’s urging. And then Astarion noticed a lever peaking out from behind a stack of boxes. Tav grabbed it and one of the many bookcases slid aside with an ominous creak, revealing a dank, wet passageway that wound its way deep into the earth. Obviously Tav wanted to check it out.

Tav had been cordial, if perhaps a little distant, since the morning. He thought that perhaps she was trying to give him space. He supposed it was cute, if a little silly. She wouldn’t feel so bad about wanting to use him if she knew even a few of the things he had done. But he could easily reel her in again. In the warm light of day his previous objections seemed childish and maudlin.

He was somewhat surprised that she had even agreed to night time feedings. “The Kiss” was a powerful relaxant, a brilliant adaptation for a devious nocturnal predator. To some, it was even an aphrodisiac. Why allow him to bite her at all if she couldn’t enjoy the effects? She must truly be a deviant. Nonetheless, this was still a mutually beneficial transaction. Astarion had gotten what he wanted. Why wasn’t he satisfied?

The passageway snaked its way into a glittering cave where half a dozen coffins moldered in the gloom. Karlach immediately pried one open and Tav discovered a scroll within its depths, a curious spell that allowed the caster to summon a quasit. She handed it to Wyll, who began studying it. Soon a foul-mouthed, gibbering little demon was trailing behind them, babbling on about some book with terrible magic inside. Astarion had wanted to name her Basket, but Wyll wanted to keep her previous name: Shovel.

Turns out, the good doctor had been dabbling in powerful necromantic magic beneath his quaint little shop. Useful necromantic magic. And it seemed like he had left in a hurry: books and notes were scattered all over his laboratory, bones and viscera littered the floor, and a body was unceremoniously dumped across a dirty operating theater. Tav immediately buried herself in the necromancer’s notes while Wyll and Karlach continued scavenging. Astarion’s eye was drawn to a curious cell embedded in the rock, locked behind a barred door. He jimmied the locks and traps easily, stepping carefully into the cramped room.

Inside the cell on an otherwise barren table lay one of the most menacing books that Astarion had ever seen. It had been bound in a suspicious and unidentifiable leather, and from its cover a wretched face emerged in a silent scream. There must be something good inside.

“This journal says that there was a key of some kind that went missing? And then days later Toth’s apprentice also disappeared?” Tav said.

“Very suspicious,” Karlach murmured. Astarion grinned. Necromancy meant control of the dead. Control of the undead. Perhaps even a spell or two for vampire lords.

“Then what are we sitting around for, darlings?”

That meddling boy must have been the dumbest apprentice in all of Faerûn. Turns out, stealing the key to an ominous necromantic tome meant chucking it down a well and into an infestation of venomous spiders. Astarion had laughed when Karlach tripped over the enwebbed body of the apprentice. Serves that fool right.

It was so faint that Astarion almost missed it. Deep in the darkness of the well a faint purple light pulsed and swirled. Kicking aside a spider carcass, Astarion plucked the gem from the grimy cave floor. Its eerie glow cast a strange pall over their faces. “I think that’s it,” Tav said, reaching out for the amethyst. Their fingers brushed and despite their thick gloves and the sweaty exertion from battle, Astarion felt a spark of electricity pass between them. Tav had been particularly vicious today, blinding and paralyzing spiders with barely a word. Then he would strike while they were stunned, piercing them with his sharp blades. They’d made a good team. He couldn’t help running his eyes along her throat and down her curves as he relinquished the jewel to her. Tav briefly polished the stone against the front of her jerkin and popped it into the front of the strange book, which began to glow with a sickly violet light. This was an evil book. A powerful book.

“Please don’t open the creepy book,” Karlach pleaded.

“That’s evil magic. We must destroy it,” Wyll insisted.

“And it looks awfully heavy. Why don’t you let me carry that for you?” Astarion put on his best pout, his eyes glittering in the lowlight. Tav turned towards him. “On one condition,” She said. Astarion stiffened. “Will you tell me what’s inside it when you are done?” Astarion smiled.

“I’ll tell you every last sordid detail, my dear.”

Camp was quiet that night. Gale asked many questions about the new book and even had the audacity to ask Astarion if he could have it instead. “Absolutely not. It is mine,” Astarion spat. Gale opened his mouth to protest but Astarion quickly added: “Tav said so.” Confusion and hurt both passed over Gale’s face and Astarion turned on his heel and left, clutching his dark prize tightly.

Tav had really given him the clearly evil necromantic book. First her blood, and now a powerful magical artifact that could possibly empower him against his master. He hasn’t even slept with her yet and his little investment was already paying off.

He settled into his tent, mentally preparing himself to read. He pulled a tufted chair up to the small table he had decided to use as a desk, both of which were stolen from the necromancer’s basement. Somehow, this felt familiar. It wasn’t concrete but he had a vague feeling, a memory in his body, of poring over thick, difficult to read tomes until the dense passages made sense or he made them make sense. He shrugged the feeling away: he wasn’t a magistrate anymore.

Astarion stared at the grim face on the cover of the book with disdain. It was so hideous. Astarion flipped open the heavy cover and a delicious wave of dark energy immediately surged through him. It felt energizing, powerful. He felt deep in his bones that he was on the right path, that this book could tell him exactly what he wanted to know. As he continued reading, the glyphs began to shift and swirl before his eyes. Magic rippled through the pages, through his fingers, through his body. Voices came to him, whispering terrible longings and secrets of every shape and size. The cacophony filled him so completely that his head began to throb with it.

Kill them. Kill them all.

Dark claws of magic pulled at his mind, trying to erode his will and drag him under its control. “No, I won’t kill them.” Astarion ground out as he thrashed in his chair, resisting the dreadful pull with everything he had. Well, maybe Karlach, he thought. Even in the grips of fell magic, he remembered how she had hoisted Tav up into her arms, effortlessly carrying her back to camp yesterday.

Look. Away.

Astarion mustered up every last ounce of his will, successfully slamming the book closed with a sickening thud. Free of the dark compulsions, he slumped forward in his chair. He wouldn’t kill Karlach. Karlach was too useful. And fun.

“Good book?” A voice cut through his tired thoughts like a hot knife and he bolted upright. Whirling in his seat, he saw Tav hovering at the entrance of his tent. He relaxed, somewhat. “Hello,” he said sheepishly. He gestured for her to come inside.

“Slow going, I take it?” Tav said, coming around his desk to peer at the book. “You could say that. It’s protected by vengeful spirits,” Astarion sighed. “They make it impossible to read the damn thing without triggering their unholy yammering.”

“I could tell. Are you alright?” Tav asked. Astarion nodded, hand waving her concern away. She hopped up on his desk and Astarion leaned back in his chair, turning to face her. “What do you think they are guarding?” she asked, kicking her feet as she perched. “It’s clearly something powerful, I can feel it,” Astarion gushed excitedly. “Anything could be in there. Ways to speak to the dead, control the dead. Bring the dead back to life. A way to free myself from Cazador could even be in there.” He looked up at her, saw the confusion on her face and internally smacked himself. Of course she doesn’t know who Cazador is. “Sorry, did you want something?” He snapped.

“Who is Cazador?” Tav asks innocently. He knows it’s innocent. He knows she’s just curious. Knowing her, she will probably think she can help.

“Cazador is none of your business,” Astarion spits. Tav stops kicking her feet. She slides off his desk, landing onto the dirt floor with a graceful plop.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she says diplomatically, but Astarion can tell she is disappointed. He just stares at her. She thinks she can handle it. But she’d hate him if she knew. She wouldn’t be so sweet to him if he told her. “I just came to tell you that you could feed on me again tonight. If you wanted.” Surprise washes over Astarion at this. Why is she being so nice to him?

He will have to tell her something eventually. But he doesn’t want to crush this tentative thing they have yet with his mess. Astarion slips on his mask, the face he knows Tav actually wants to see, and purrs:

“Then I’ll see you later, you sweet, generous thing.”

Tav lingers for another moment, sensing that she is dismissed, but clearly not wanting to leave. “Alright. Good night, Astarion. Get some rest if you can.” She leaves him to his bitter, lonely thoughts, just like he wanted.

Hours later, Astarion slips eagerly into Tav’s tent. He had waited impatiently until he felt her heartbeat settle into the steady rhythm of sleep. Now she lay before him like a fairytale princess waiting for true love’s kiss from a besotted prince. Such a pretty picture. It was almost a shame that she would get him instead.

He had denied her his body, taken her treasure, snapped at her, and told her no, yet she was still letting him drink her blood. He should feel guilty, especially after their earlier exchange, but it is in a vampire’s nature to take. And it is in her nature to give. How kind. How dumb. How lucky for him. After 200 years of starvation, slavery, and degradation he was going to seize every gift he received, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Astarion laid carefully down beside her. His hand drifted over her cheek, ghosting over her beautiful face. Leaning over her, he took a deep breath in through his nose, savoring the sweet smell of her hair, the savory notes of her skin. She was so warm up close. And now he had her all to himself.

His fangs sliced through her skin, hitting their sanguine mark with ease. He drank from her languidly, savoring each gush of blood that filled his mouth. Astarion felt some of it dribble down his chin, pooling in a seductive swirl along Tav’s throat. His cock twitched to life, slowly hardening with each mouthful of hot blood. When he was full enough he withdrew to admire her, yet again.

Tav hadn’t stirred at all. She lay peacefully asleep, completely undisturbed by his ministrations. Her expression was soft, relaxed in repose. She was completely unaware of the monster in her tent.

He returned dutifully to her neck, resuming his feast. But in between sips he pressed experimental kisses to her neck, unable to fully resist. Gods, she was gorgeous. And she was willingly letting him do this to her. She was clearly a fool. But she was his fool. Maybe she really would understand. He could never tell her everything, but maybe he could tell her certain things. He shuddered against her, dragging his lithe body against her in one tantalizingly slow motion.

Licking his lips clean of any blood, he laid a chaste kiss on her plush lips. He wanted to really kiss her, wanted to press his lips to hers and feel her open beneath him, ready to be taken. The memory of their previous kiss tormented him, made him achingly hard and filled him with stupid ideas that led nowhere.

Besides, this little display was a waste. Tav wasn’t awake to enjoy it, so what was the point. This won him no favors. But you like it, he thought. This brings you pleasure. He wanted to run as far away as he could and never come back. He wanted to bury himself completely between her legs.

He cleaned her up slowly. Tenderly, his traitorous mind supplied. He drew his tongue gently over her neck, lapping up any stray rivulets of blood. When he was done he pressed one final kiss to her neck, right over his bite.

Back in his tent Astarion flopped down into his nest of pillows, his deft fingers immediately grasping for the laces of his trousers. His neglected cock throbbed with a deep, insistent need that he could no longer ignore. He often had to make himself hard in order to perform for Cazador’s victims, but it had been an age since he had experienced an honest bodily reaction to someone. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. He was glad he was alone.

Initially he sets a brutal rhythm, just trying to get this over with. He strokes himself roughly from base to tip, hurtling himself towards oblivion. His mind drifts back to Tav and he realizes, as a pearl of precum beads on his tip, that he doesn’t actually want to rush this. He forces his hand to slow to a torturous pace, twisting his head on the upstroke in a way that pulls a breathy gasp from him. He imagines he is back in Tav’s tent, teeth buried in her throat and body settled firmly over hers.

Tav sleepily stirs beneath him, a moan on her lips. She presses herself upwards and begs him for more. “Please, Astarion.” He sinks his fangs deeper into her and she cries out sweetly, grinding herself desperately against his hard length like she did the other night. She’s at his mercy, overcome by pain and pleasure that only he can give her.

In his tent, heat pools in his abdomen and he finally allows himself to buck up greedily into his fist. In the fantasy, she spreads her legs for him and he slides easily into her, fucking her deeply, the taste of her blood still on his tongue. He licks his teeth, searching for any bloody remnants that might still be in his mouth. They are long gone but their ghost remains, faint but still ambrosial, and he moans with want as he fucks his fist faster. He takes her selfishly, pounding into her very core with unapologetic need. She clenches around him, shuddering on the brink of a powerful orgasm. She wants him, all of him. “Yes! Please, Astarion!”

His own climax hits him hard and fast, erupting all over his hand. He sinks further into his pillows, basking in the sudden afterglow. He can’t remember the last time he came like that. He can’t remember the last time he came at all. And to the thought of something as simple as Tav wanting him. He cringes at his juvenile fantasy.

The next morning Astarion surreptitiously watches Tav buckle her jerkin and equip her rapier, the perfect picture of a determined, capable adventurer. Today, Tav has decided to pay that sweet old lady a visit at her house, much to Lae’Zel’s irritation. This will delay their journey to the crèche but Tav says that they can’t afford to ignore any leads that they have, no matter how small. Astarion says nothing while Tav and Lae’Zel argue. The longer they delay, the longer he’s free. Astarion decides that despite the initial hiccups, everything is unfolding according to plan. Involving himself with Tav is a good tactical decision. And if he wants it too, well, then that is just a bonus.

Chapter 4: Confession

#astarion #tav x astarion #tavstarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion longfic #a taste of plums #the night shift

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whitedarkmoonflower · 1 year

Text

Saved Part 3

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: the outcome of the poll was quite clear 😊 I hear read and obey, my masters!

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warning: 18+, SMUT

Word Count: 4,978

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

An awkward silence hung between you and Sihtric as you sat beneath the old oak tree. You could see that he was searching for words to continue the conversation, but as he hesitated your mind began to drift again.

Nearly a year had passed since the day Sihtric had joined your brother’s man. You couldn't help but smile remembering Sihtric’s early days in the camp. He appeared utterly lost at times, unsure of what to do with his newfound freedom. He eagerly took on any tasks available, striving to be useful while remaining unnoticed as much as possible. During the evenings, he would simply vanish, never seen drinking, gambling, or engaging in any quarrels with the other men. However, what puzzled you the most was his attitude towards you. It wasn't as if he was intentionally avoiding you, but it was evident that he made a conscious effort to stay out of your way as much as possible.

“Sihtric,” you called out as you spotted him tending to the horses a week after. He turned his head with a startled and surprised look on his face.

“Yes, Lady!” he responded, facing you with a bowed head and his gaze fixed on the ground before his feet. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, his entire body displaying visible tension.

“Can I do something for you, Lady?”

“No, not really. Just wanted to ask you, whether you are fine. I haven’t seen you a while,” you approached him and stood directly in front of him.

“You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”

“No, Lady, certainly not. I was just … I…,” he struggled to find the right words, his face blushing with trepidation. His nervousness was endearing and captivating, bringing a smile to your face.

“Let me see your brow,” you ordered and Sihtric hesitantly raised his head, allowing you to inspect his wound. He closed his eyes as you examined it.

“It has healed, but the scar will be quite noticeable,” you remarked, gently touching his brow with your thumb. “You should have come to me earlier to have the stitches removed.”

“I did not want to bother you, Lady,” Sihtric murmured, completely frozen, his body tense like a tightly wound bow, his muscles clenched. You stepped back and observed him exhale and relax slightly.

“Come to my tent later when you finish with the horses. I will remove the stiches,” you instructed, smiling encouragingly before turning to walk away. With a quick glance you noticed that Sihtric remained motionless for a moment, his muscles still tense and eyes closed. Eventually, he regained his composure, shook himself, and turned to attend to the horses.

You couldn't help but feel curious about whether Sihtric would show up afterward. It was unexpected to discover that your mere presence could be so intimidating, but it was clear that the young Dane felt uneasy when you were close. Hours had passed, and you had completely forgotten about Sihtric as you were called to tend to a broken leg, a task that required applying splints and securing bandages. By the time you returned to your tent, twilight had descended, and you noticed a silhouette standing before the entrance. The figure raised its hand as if about to open the tent flaps, only to retract it and linger there, seemingly gathering strength and courage to enter. The hand rose again, almost touching the flaps, but at the last moment, it was lowered, accompanied by a sigh, and the figure turned to walk away. You instantly recognised Sihtric and called out his name, causing him to freeze and turn in the direction of the sound.

“Yes, Lady!” came his familiar response.

“You know I don’t bite and if you were to inquire, I'm sure you would hear that I don't eat young warriors for breakfast,” you couldn’t resist teasing him slightly.

“Come inside,” you ordered with firm voice and Sihtric obediently followed you.

“Sit down on that bench over there, near the candles,” you continued as he looked at you in confusion, unsure of where to move and what to do.

You fetched your instruments and a jar of salve. Approaching Sihtric you sensed the tension building up in his body once again. However, this time you chose to ignore it. You had a valid reason to get as close to him as possible, so you positioned yourself between his legs and began your work. Carefully, you cut the stitches and pulled them out with a pair of tweezers. Then, you applied the salve to his brow and massaged it thoroughly with your fingers. You hummed softly, as you always did when working. Being a healer was not just a skill for you; it was your true calling. When you were immersed in your work, everything else faded away, and this tent became your sanctuary, and you were the priestess.

Sihtric’s anxiety and tension gradually relaxed, and this time he kept his eyes open, observing you with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. You were so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, and you could hear the quickening of his heartbeat. And again you found yourself drawn to this young man, fascinated by him, though you weren't yet willing to admit it to yourself. There was something about him that radiated a captivating combination of submissiveness and insecurity, intertwined with boldness, strength, and sincerity.

“I don’t understand, Lady,” Sihtric's words broke the silence, surprising you. You looked at him, puzzled.

“I still can’t understand why you are doing this. I am a nobody, a bastard, the son of a man who destroyed your family, and I was sent to kill your brother. In truth, I don’t even deserve to be here. I don’t deserve lord Uhtred’s trust and I certainly don’t deserve your attention,” his words, spoken with humility and self-deprecation caught you off guard, “I… I was avoiding you because I didn’t know how to thank you. I doubt I will ever be able to repay you… You are so…,” he hesitated searching for the right words, “different. I have never met anyone like you.”

“Sihtric!” you gently interrupted him, placing your palms around his neck and cupping his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Stop it. You can’t hold things against yourself that were beyond your control, things your father did,” you gazed at his handsome, sharply defined face, admiring his strong jaw, captivating eyes, and straight nose.

Your eyes lingered on his lips, and you were so tempted to lean in and kiss them that you had to release your grip on him. You weren't ready to confess your feelings to yourself, let alone to Sihtric. However, your cheeks flushed, and you noticed your heart racing and pounding with such intensity that you thought he must have sensed it. But it seemed that Sihtric was completely oblivious to your state. At the same moment you let go of him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your clothes. He breathed in your scent, holding onto you, and it became apparent to you that he was sobbing. His shoulders trembled, and his whole body shook. You placed your hand on his head, allowing your fingers to trail through his hair, gently caressing him.

"Sihtric, I am certain that you deserve everything that has happened in these few days, and much more," you whispered, taken aback by his reaction. "Sihtric, can you hear me? You deserve all the good things that can and will happen to you. Never doubt that!” you were soothing him.

In that very moment he abruptly released his hold on you, jumping off the bench and pushing you aside rather roughly. An expression of absolute embarrassment covered his face as he stormed out of your tent.

From that day forward, Sihtric avoided you profoundly, and you accepted that. You understood that he was embarrassed by the vulnerability you had witnessed and didn't want to remind him of it. He needed time to adjust and to accept his new life. And you were willing to give him that time, especially because you needed it too. You still hadn’t sorted out your own feeling for him.

Months passed, battles were fought, and the life went on. You had plenty of work and you loved it, as it helped you to keep Sihtric out of your mind. Uhtred along with you and his warriors had returned to his estate in Cochem when news arrived that the Princess Ettelflaed of Wessex were kidnapped. Uhtred sent Sihtric to Beamfleot to spy on Erik and Sigfried and gather information. Upon his return, Uhtred selected a small group of his most trusted men, including Sihtric, and set off to rescue the princess. It was absolutely mad plan, but it worked, and the princess was safely delivered back to her father. Sihtric proved himself to be not only a reliable and skilled spy but also a skilled warrior. You observed him gradually gaining confidence and finding his place among Uhtred's most trusted companions. And you were pleased when he finally ceased avoiding you, and your somewhat awkward relationship turned into casual conversations and encounters, much like you had with the other men in Uhtred's company. You convinced yourself that your feelings for Sihtric were merely genuine sympathy, and you were content knowing that Uhtred had found such a loyal and worthy friend in him. He had become a part of your family, and you loved him as a brother.

However, if you had allowed yourself to think about Sihtric’s behaviour more carefully, you would have noticed that he not only stopped avoiding you, but actively sought your presence, seizing every opportunity to be near you.

He was always eager to help you get off your horse, and whenever the opportunity arose, his hands lingered on your waist for a moment longer than necessary. And each time you failed to notice that a tinge of sadness flickered in his eyes. He followed you with his eyes when he believed you were not looking. Had you paid closer attention, you would have seen the gentle yearning in his eyes. You were oblivious how his eyes lightened up with anticipation whenever he saw you entering the great hall to join the evening feasts. Perhaps you really did not notice these subtleties. Or maybe you had intentionally chosen not to see these signs, fearing that they would disrupt what you had convinced yourself of – that your feelings for him were nothing more than sisterly love and joy for his transformation.

Meanwhile Sihtric slowly, but surely began to lose hope of recapturing your attention. He had been so weak and so vulnerable, losing his composure and succumbing to tears in your presence like a small child.

It was unworthy behaviour for a warrior, and he was uncertain if he would ever be able to approach you without feeling embarrassed. He couldn’t even dare to dream that you could feel anything beyond pity for him. And pity was the last thing he desired from you. He longed to impress you, to earn your admiration and respect, but above all, he craved for your love.

But dream he did and his dreams were filled with you. Most frequently he dreamed of your first encounter – the brief glimpse he managed to cast on you, holding Uhtreds hands, as he was being dragged away by Clapa. Your beauty had struck him and his only thought at that moment had been, how fortunate Uhtred was to have such a stunning and caring wife. That dream always reminded him how later that night you suddenly stood before him, inquiring if he was hurt and he believed the gods were cruelly playing with him, driving him to madness.

You had taken his breath away. Your strong and self-assured presence, your genuine care for him, your hands tenderly touching his face as you cleaned up the blood, the fragrance he inhaled when you knelt beside him to tend to his wound – it stirred emotions within him that he never knew they existed. Everything that happened that night and the following day seemed utterly surreal and impossible to him - your mad proposal, his oath, and his newfound freedom.

He had often dreamt of escaping Dunholm, leaving behind his indifferent father, who seemed to notice him only when there was a cause to punish him. He had yearned to be free from a life where misery and beatings had become the norm, and where the only solace he found was in his sword training. Even the gruff warrior who instructed the youngsters and was eager to beat them for every mistake, could not deny Sihtric’s talent with the blade. The lessons became his salvation. He trained with relentless determination, pushing himself to complete exhaustion, and dreamed of becoming a true warrior. And then, in the most unlikely and unbelievable manner, his dreams became a reality.

At first, he attempted to remain invisible, as he had learned to do in Dunholm, keeping himself out of sight as much as possible. However, an entire week had passed, and no one had treated him with deliberate cruelty. He was not driven away from the fires when seeking warmth, food and ale were provided for him, and he was even given furs to keep himself covered at night.

Then, at the end of that first week, he encountered you again. He had not actively avoided you, nor had he sought you out. He was unsure of how to act in your presence, uncertain of what to say or how to properly express his gratitude. He was afraid that most probably he will not be able to say anything at all. Overwhelming surge of emotions overcame him in your tent, having you so close to him that he could hear your heartbeat, feeling once again the tender touch of your hands on his face, and breathing in your scent that had driven him to madness already the previous time. In that moment, something broke deep inside of him, and tears welled up in his eyes, impossible to hold back. He buried his face in your clothes and wept, something he hadn't allowed himself since his mother's death fifteen years ago when he was a mere four-year-old boy.

As you whispered comforting words and gently stroked his head, he tried to regain his composure. His weakness embarrassed him, and he wished for the earth to open and swallow him whole, to avoid meeting your gaze. It was then, when driven by that shame, he abruptly stormed out of the tent, convinced that he would never be able to look into your eyes again without feeling an overwhelming sense of shame.

He volunteered for each, and every task Uhtred proposed, hoping to prove to you just how skilled, brave, and strong he was, determined to show that he was not a weakling unable to control his own emotions. And indeed, he was good in everything he was doing. He had become one of Uhtred's most trusted men, a friend and companion. However, the one person he cared about the most, the person he wanted to impress above all, seemed to no longer notice him, and Sihtric felt a growing sense of desperation.

He tried to forget about you, spending his silver on women in the cities they visited, searching for someone who could overshadow you. But each time he returned to Cocchem and saw you again, he was captivated anew. His gaze would scan your features, and he would dream of holding you in his arms. Every time you spoke to him, he bit his tongue to keep his feelings from spilling out.

And then Ragnar arrived. He had assembled enough warriors to finally settle his blood feud with Kjartan and had come to ask if Uhtred would join him and today, they were marching together to Dunholm. Sihtric was present when the decision was made. He had shared all he knew about Dunholm with Uhtred, and one thing he was certain of was that Dunholm was an impregnable fortress. Even with the well-thought-out plan, many men would die in this endeavor. Sihtric did not fear death; it was a constant presence in his life as a warrior. But what truly frightened him was the possibility of dying before he could confess his feelings to you. And this time you were not coming with them. Uhtred had forbidden it, claiming it was too dangerous. Knowing that Sihtric had wrestled with himself the previous night, unable to find sleep, and now here he was, sitting beside you under the oak tree, unable to find the right words.

“I...we...you know, we are marching to Dunholm," Sihtric finally managed to continue the conversation, drawing you away from your thoughts. "I...uhh...ehh, I just wanted to thank you before we leave. I don't think I ever managed to properly thank you for everything you've done for me."

"Sihtric, you don't have to. I'm happy to have you by my brother's side. You've already saved his life more than once, and that means the world to me," you turned to face him, your eyes scanning his handsome features, his strong jaw, his captivating eyes, the scars on his face and arms—some new ones catching your attention. You couldn't deny that he was incredibly attractive. Your gaze unintentionally wandered to his broad chest and back to his muscular arms, and in a surprising moment, you found yourself imagining his strong arms enveloping your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest. Your breathing quickened, and willing to escape the awkwardness of the moment, you stood up, intending to leave. However, Sihtric immediately reached out and grabbed your hand.

"Don't! Please, don't leave," there was a mix of desperation and fear in his voice, causing you to halt in astonishment. Sihtric rose to his feet, still holding your hand, and locked his gaze with yours.

"I can't leave without saying this to you," he muttered. "I just don't know how. I don't know how to find the right words."

"To say what?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"That I love you!" The words finally escaped Sihtric's lips, barely audible. Sihtric kept his gaze interlocked with yours, waiting for your reaction, while you stared back at him in utter surprise. And in that moment, a realization struck you—something you couldn't deny any longer. Your well-crafted arguments that you loved him as a brother crumbled instantaneously, as you admitted to yourself the truth that had always been there: you loved him too. You had loved him from the very first sight of him, from his first hesitant words spoken that evening.

"You are so beautiful, so strong and confident, so bold and kind. I...I have never met anyone like you before," Sihtric whispered, still holding onto you. He gently placed his other hand on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. "And I know I don't deserve you...all I wanted was to earn your respect, to show you that I am worthy of your attention," Sihtric continued, his eyes locked with yours. Doubt and despair began to creep into his gaze as he searched for any sign, a hint from you that his feelings were not in vain, that there might be a chance you liked him at least.

However, you were too taken aback by the turn of the conversation to form any words, and Sihtric interpreted it as rejection. His eyes darkened, and he let go of you.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry. It was foolish of me to think that you could want someone like me," he stepped back, and you could see the pain and heartbreak written plainly on his face.

"Sihtric," you exclaimed, finally breaking free from your astonishment. "Wait, don't you dare to leave me again!" And this time, it was you who grabbed his hand in a panicked attempt to stop him from storming away.

"I love you, you incredibly foolish man!" there was a mixture of excitement, tenderness, and frustration in your voice as you stepped closer to him.

"You love me?" Sihtric questioned in disbelief and astonishment, yet his strong arms were already pulling you closer until he held you in his embrace, pressing you tightly against his chest, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you! And you never had to prove or show me anything! Love doesn't work that way, Sihtric!" you whispered, “Don’t you remember what I said to you – you deserve all the good things that will happen to you and even more. You deserve being loved and cared for,” and as these words escaped your lips Sihtric leaned in to kiss them. It was a gentle and tender kiss, his lips timidly brushing against yours, as if seeking permission to be there. And feeling a shiver run down your spine from the tight grip of his arms around your waist, you responded to his kiss eager for more.

Your lips parted and his tongue slid inside meeting yours. The kiss deepened and soon you both found yourself gasping for breath, unwilling to let go of each other. Sihtric’s hands traced your contours. So many times, being with other women, he had been imagining it was you he were holding in his arms and now that even this dream had come true, he could hardly believe it.

He craved for you and without a moment hesitation his hands trembling in desperate eagerness started to untie your dress and a gasp escaped his lips with his breath taken away in awe when the dress slid down over your shoulders to your waist, revealing your naked upper body to his sight. You leaned yourself against the tree and Sihtric took a step back marveling you with his hungry eyes, he unbuckled his coat and spread it on the ground, just to grab your hands again and pull you back in his tight embrace.

His body pressed against yours and the touch of his rough fingers on your skin made you exhale loudly aching for more. Your fingers traced alongside Sihtric’s strong arms, reached his chest and you started undoing his armour, pulling it eagerly over his head as soon as it was loose enough. Your hands were instantly back on his waist and started undoing his breeches. Even through the clothes you could feel how aroused and hard he already was, and you moaned in satisfaction feeling that he was consumed by the desire of you as much as you craved for him.

All you wanted in that moment was to feel him inside you. You had been waiting for him so long, you did not want any foreplay. You needed to feel him filling you and claiming you as his. You let the dress drop to your feet and stepped out of it. Sihtric’s tongue was sliding up your throat, his breath heavy in arousal and anticipation. He stiffened for a moment in hesitation and raised his head for his eyes to meet yours in a silent plea for a permission.

“Please, take me! I need you; I need to feel you inside me or I will just go mad,” you begged him. Groaning in pleasure at your words he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up. You responded to his movement by wrapping your legs around his waist. Sihtric pushed your back against the tree and thrusted deep inside you with a hoarse moan of pleasure escaping his lips. He froze for a moment, taking delight in sensing your walls tightly around his cock.

“Gods, you are so perfect,” he murmured in your ear, “so beautiful and mine. Finally, mine!”

“More, Sihtric, I need more of you! Don’t hold back,” you whimpered, and he obeyed instantly, by pulling his cock out and slamming back into you, over and over again, his movements getting faster with each thrust, his breath heavier and his moans louder.

“So good, my love!” he hissed, “You are made for me! So perfect, so tight around me,” he praised you and when you didn’t answer immersed in the oblivion of you own pleasure, feeling your climax quickly building up, you heard him breathing in your ear: “My love … Please, say it to me,” he whimpered. “I need to hear it. I want to hear that you are enjoying me, that I am pleasuring you.”

“Oh … Gods, Sihtric!” you could only whine, digging your nails in his back and trying to adjust your movements to his ever-faster pace, “You are driving me mad! You are so good, don’t stop, please just don’t stop!” you begged him and with these words you reached your peak with a loud moan.

Feeling your walls clenching against his cock, Sihtric buried his face in your neck and pressed himself further into you. Your eyes widened in surprise. His cock filled you, reaching unimaginably deep inside you, hitting the back walls and all the pleasure spots of your vagina, and even before the waves of your first peak managed to subside you were aroused again.

“Can you handle a little bit more of me, my love?” Sihtric mumbled in your ear.

“Yes, yes… aah, Sihtric,” you called his name arching your back.

Sihtric hesitantly pulled out, earning a surprised moan from you, and gently lay you down on his cloak, lowering his body on yours and settling himself between your legs. You felt him pushing inside you again and moaned in pleasure.

“You are my love, my saviour, my healer and my goddess and I will be worshipping you as long as I live,” Sihtric whispered locking his gaze with you.

“Aah, Sihtric,” you gasped digging your nails into his hips as he started thrusting into you deep and hard, “Gods, how good you feel inside me!”

“Mhm,” Sihtric grunted in pleasure, “Look into my eyes, my love!” he demanded, “I want you to look in my eyes when you come. You have the most beautiful eyes, I have ever seen!” His groans were filling the air, making you forget everything around you. Feeling his body brushing against your clit and his cock ravaging you from inside you raised your eyes to meet his and let out a loud scream as another climax washed over you, with your whole-body trembling in excitement and in the same instant you felt Sihtric reaching his high and spilling within you with a passionate and loud growl.

You both were breathing heavily, Sihtric’s forehead was resting upon yours and his hand was gently cupping your cheek. He kissed you tenderly and wrapped his arms around you as his lips kept placing hot kisses down your jaw and neck with unending love and gentleness in his movements.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too, my goddess. I always loved you, from the very first sight of you. I was completely lost, and you gave me a reason to live, and I promise, I will come back to you,” Sihtric placed a tender kiss on your forehead. Deep inside him he had been afraid of returning to Dunholm, afraid that his old life would consume him and shatter his dreams. But now he was certain that nothing would prevent him from coming back home to you.

---------------------------------------------

"You can set up my tent now," a familiar firm voice echoed through the camp, and two figures sitting by the fireplace immediately stood up as if startled by a venomous snake. Uhtred and Sihtric exchanged bewildered and disbelieving glances.

"No, no, no...it can't be true," Uhtred growled, turning towards the direction of the voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, peering into the darkness.

"Did you really think you could leave me behind? I thought you knew me better," you chuckled, emerging from the shadows, and approaching the fireplace.

"Uhtred, I am a grown up woman, free to travel wherever I wish. If it makes you feel better, let's pretend I'm visiting that old healer from Lindisfarena near Dunholm," you said, looking at Sihtric, who was taken completely aback by your sudden appearance, his face involuntarily lighting up with a broad smile. It had been foolish of him to believe that you would obediently stay back home, as Uhtred had insisted. Sihtric knew he had fallen in love with an extraordinary woman – kind, fearless, strong-willed, and confident – and he never wanted you to change. As you drew closer, he embraced you, lifted you in the air, and spun you around as if you were a feather. Setting you down on your feet, Sihtric leaned in and passionately kissed your lips.

"Sihtric," anger, surprise, and bewilderment laced Uhtred's voice, "what are you doing with my sister?"

"I love her, Lord!" Sihtric answered without hesitation.

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