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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

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

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

#astarion x female reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #karlach #pregnancy #Astarion x pregnant reader #astarion x f!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #astar

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yandere-writer-momo · 5 months

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Doomed Yuri in my brain. Doomed Yuri. Doomed yuriiii based of Bloodborne

May or may not make a part 2. Idk. Just needed to throw this out here before I lost my mind.

Yandere Short Stories: Doomed From The Start

Yandere Lesbian Paladin x Saintess Reader x Onesided Yandere paladin

There is a secret third Yandere but that’s only if I ever decide to continue

TW: uncomfortable religious themes, body horror, internalized homophobia (religion), monsters, Yandere and toxic behavior, etc

Swoosh! A strong gust of wind blew through Ludwig’s long black locks, which made the cleric appear to have a dark halo above his head. His face remained stoic as he made his way towards the church with his worn out entourage. Another successful hunt and he had made it back to the church once more… a shame his peace was quickly shattered by a certain saintess.

“Ludwig!” The tall paladin froze when small arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. His icy blue eyes turned to glance down at (your name), the saintess, in disinterest. “I’m happy you returned safely. How did the hunt go?”

Ludwig hummed in response while he moved her arms off his waist. He merely put up with the young woman to get close to her friend, Desiree. (Your name) was not his type like the other paladin was. (Your name) was a delicate flower but Ludwig longed for the thorn.

Ludwig himself had no interest in the bubbly flower but he needed her to get closer to his dream maiden. (Your name)’s affection for him did not matter.

“It was fine.” Ludwig told her as the two of them headed to the church together for him to give his report. His blue eyes softened when they landed on Desiree, she was magnificent as ever, even with the dried blood on her silver armor. Desiree appeared angelic even when she was drenched in the blood of her enemies. The white haired woman made a beeline toward to the two of them. “Lady Desiree-“

Ludwig was shocked when Desiree pulled (your name) into a constricting embrace, one that was most common with lovers rather than friends. Her lofty body easily wrapped around (your name) like a blanket, her pale nose buried into the crown of (your name)’s head. Desiree’s hot breath tickled the smaller woman’s scalp, which made (your name) burst in a small fit of giggles.

“You act as if you haven’t seen me for years!”

“Maybe it felt like years since the last time I saw you?” Desiree lifted her head off (your name)’s head to stare into her eyes. Desiree’s silver eyes pierced (your name)’s very soul. “I hurried back from my mission just to come see you, (your name).”

“I’m just happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if my precious friend didn’t return from the front lines.” (Your name) squealed when Desiree ruffled her hair, the smaller woman immediately began to protest. “Desiree!”

Desiree smiled brightly at (your name). She couldn’t help but tease (your name)… especially in front of Ludwig. The dark haired man’s glare was so intense, it burned holes into their heads. Jealous much? “I brought you something too.”

Desiree reached into her leather satchel and handed (your name) a white rabbit foot. “I know you hate the blood we collect, but I made sure to bring you back a good luck charm.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything-“

“Of course I did. You’re always in the church all alone." Desiree smiled warmly at (your name). The taller woman took (your name)’s hand in hers. “How about we head back? It’ll rain soon.”

“Oh but…” (your name) glanced over at Ludwig whose jaw was clenched. His icy eyes narrowed at the two women with disdain. Why was he so upset? Was it because she put all of her attention on Desiree? “I was going to walk back with Ludwig. We can eat supper together if you’d like, Desiree?”

Desiree frowned but sighed in defeat. The white haired woman turned to the brunette with a frown. She didn’t understand what (your name) saw in Ludwig. He was awful to her. A starving wolf would be kinder to (your name) than Ludwig ever could be. But Desiree knew it wasn’t her place to dictate (your name)’s choices in life. “I’ll see you then, (your name). Be safe, okay? I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I will. I’ll see you around.” (Your name) waved her friend off before she turned her attention to Ludwig. “I apologize for that, Ludwig. Shall we be on our way before the rain falls?”

Ludwig clicked his tongue and nodded. All he needed to do was walk alongside the gregarious woman and satiate her incessant chatter with a simple nod or hum in agreement. Ludwig was only close to her to get to Desiree. (Your name) was simple like a dog.

(Your name) beamed and walked alongside Ludwig, a heavy blush on her cheeks. She was happy to walk beside her crush. It was wonderful to see such a soft side to the normally stoic man.

Ludwig ignored the shy glances she snuck his way. He could not wait for the day that Desiree would look his way. Ludwig knew she had no such need for a burden like (your name) around her. Desiree nor him needed a pet… no. A dog around them.

Ludwig would have to gripe about this experience in his journal once more. The tea colored paper was his only confidant in this cruel world. For Ludwig trusted no one in the church’s that he dutifully served. Not the head of the church and certainly not the saintess.

A shame Ludwig would one day regret the way he treated the ‘dog’ that once so loyally stuck by his side like a tick…

The candlelight dimly lit up Ludwig’s study. His striking features now on full display to the prying eye. His slender fingers scribbled fervently into the tea colored paper of his leather journal. He wrote his woes with utmost sincerity in obsidian ink. Bits of the thick substance splattered all over his hand and onto the desk. Speckles that rivaled the abysmal eyes of the beasts he had slain now stained the mahogany wood. A mockery to his ‘holy’ mission to cleanse the land of the curse that plagued the land.

The monstrous beasts that roamed the valleys demolished villages with no mercy. There was no end to the wave of madness that had sprung up over the last few years when the nearby villages became plagued with poverty and famine. The monsters seemingly sprung up from the ashes and began to try to attack the kingdom. It sickened Ludwig.

Many fighters have come and gone throughout the years. Many have even gone missing in action… yet Ludwig and Desiree remained as the top two paladins of the church. The only two that had fought side by side for nearly a decade… which was why Ludwig was so smitten with the white haired woman. She was a force to be reckoned with. A magnificent fighter he wished to keep by his side until he drew his final breath. An unattainable goal that was thwarted by a mere saintess. If that wench didn’t exist, Ludwig was positive that Desiree and him would have been wed by now.

It was all (your name)’s fault that Desiree did not covet his affections. The only good news was that (your name) admired him. A ‘holy’ woman longed for a pious man like himself. It was so pathetic, it was comical. A weakness he would exploit until his daydreams burst into reality.

Ludwig clenched his fist when he finished the final line to his long list of complaints about his disdain for a certain saintess. A big splotch of ink covered her name now which made him even more annoyed. Even when (your name) wasn’t present, she still disrupted his peace.

Ludwig stood up and moved his quill and ink back onto his desk. Perhaps a walk would clear his head?

Ludwig gathered his snow white robes and exited his study, the door slammed shut behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, the pot of ink toppled over and split all over his desk. A puddle of black now laid all over the floor in a river of ink. An insidious omen.

Desiree sat in the confession booth, her hands folded together while she babbled a prayer. Forgiveness… she needed forgiveness for her sin.

“I am in love with someone of the church but I can never be with them. For I would burn in a pyre if I confess.” Desiree’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Will god forgive me for my grave sin?”

“You are forgive. Your sins are absolved.” The priest told her in a soft tone. “Lady Desiree, your devotion to god is like no other but even you are not without sin. I pray that you never stray from our god’s light and bring justice upon the land. That the blood you harvest for healing the sick and strengthening our clerics continue in a never ending flow. Bless you Lady Desiree, the Righteous.”

Desiree nodded and gathered her white skirts in her hands. She felt better now that she had gotten this off her chest. Yet she could not deny the queer feeling she had for her beloved saintess… her friend. Her precious (your name). Her angel. Her muse.

Desiree hurriedly made her way back toward her room, her mind raced with impure thoughts. She must paint… she needed to paint her muse.

Desiree paid no mind to her surrounding in her haste and her shoulder slammed into Ludwig’s. The cleric nearly doubled over in shock and joy. Had fate finally united him with the woman he desired? This was the first time they’ve had alone time since their last hunt.

“Lady Desiree, it’s lovely to see you-“

“Get the hell out of my way.” Desiree shoved past Ludwig with a huff which caught the cleric off guard. When was Desiree so uncouth? So ill-mannered? This was not the female paladin he knew, no. This was not her. This was not Lady Desiree, the Righteous.

The man ran a palm down his long black locks in shock. His heart didn’t stammer this time when he watched her silhouette disappear around the corner. The magic he swore she contained had fizzled out and died. The image he created of her in his head disappeared with it.

A reality slowly sunk into Ludwig. Perhaps he was not attracted to Desiree, but to the idea of her…

Ludwig sighed, perhaps he could pry information from (your name) about it? It was so easy to get the information he wanted from the saintess with sweet words.

(Your name) had her uses and Ludwig would exploit them for his own gain. He needed to be sure on whether or not the woman he saw tonight was the real Desiree. For if that was the case, perhaps he would settle for the saintess.

Possibly.

Desiree slammed the door shut behind her once she entered her study. Her hand hurriedly picked up some paint off her oak desk, a few brushes clattered to the floor in her haste. She had an irresistible urge to paint the woman she loved… wait. When did she paint such a perfect portrait?

Desiree collapsed to the floor to caress the delicately painted features of (your name). A desirous shudder escaped her plump lips as she traced her fingers over the face of her muse. She would sin once more. Desiree deserved this, she needed this.

Desiree had slaughtered thousands of beasts and harvested their blood in the name of the church. She deserved a reward. She deserved (your name) more than Ludwig did.

Desiree pressed her lips against the painting with a moan. She didn’t care that flakes of acrylic paint were on her tongue, she didn’t care that there was no warmth, and she certainly didn’t care that she was sexually attracted to another woman. To Desiree, this felt right. This was god’s will.

Desiree hurriedly untied the sash to her robe, her bare body now revealed to the eye of the moon. The moon her witness of her great sin, of her love for her friend.

“God forgive me… forgive your selfish soldier for I cannot deny this earthly pleasure. I do not wish to break my oath…” Desiree felt a few tears fall down her cheeks, she felt as if she lost control over her desire. Her head spun with dizzying emotion that would drive any sane person mad… ever since the church had insisted their soldiers drink the blood of the monsters, Desiree had been restless.

Restless with desire for her unreciprocated love… yet she’d never tell her precious angel the sinful feelings she held. Desiree would take this overwhelming affection to the grave.

Desiree turned to the painting that lay on the floor with a smile. For now, she could be satiated with this… for now.

And while she indulged herself in pleasure, white fur and various eyes began to sprout on her arms.

This was the start of a transformation. The beginning of the end.

“Help me. Help me!” (Your name) shot up from the bed, her heart raced in her chest like a race horse. Her body covered in a thick sheen of sweat. Another nightmare…

(Your name) couldn’t sleep. She was often plagued by nightmares of people crying for help ins own sort of dungeon… and it terrified her. She often had psychic dreams due to her divine power, but never ones these vivid… or terrifying.

There was something amiss in this church. That there was an invisible evil lurking in the air.

(Your name) rose up from her cotton sheets, to quickly wrap a robe around her white nightdress. Maybe a walk would clear her head?

(Your name) slid some slippers on her feet, snatched up the oil lantern beside her bed, and a match. She hastily brought the flame to life to find her way through the dark. (Your name) wanted to satiate this inordinate curiosity before it killed her.

She quietly left her room and glided down the hall like an apparition. Her long robes billowed behind her in the light breeze once she reached the open windows.

The moonlight illuminated her soft features, making her appear angelic… a suitable appearance for the saintess herself.

She allowed her feet to guide her down the hall and toward a hidden stair well. There was a sinister phenomenon going on beneath her. A truth that screamed for her to discover.

The farther she went down the stairs, the stronger the feeling of déjà vu became. The wall became more familiar… it was the one that haunted her dreams. The one in her nightmares.

And when she finally made it to the bottom of the stairwell, her entire body nearly convulsed in horror.

This wasn’t a dungeon… this was a laboratory. A laboratory full of the clerics and paladins who went ‘missing in action.’ Or at least what human pieces were left of them.

(Your name) begrudgingly stepped forward to glance at the books that laid open on one of the desks. The church was researching immortality through the blood of the monsters? Is that why they encouraged citizens and clerics alike to drink the blood? Good god… this was a crime against their god. This went against their entire purpose…

“Kill me… kill me…” (your name) put a hand over her mouth as she quietly began to sob for the poor soldiers whose humanity remained in tact. They didn’t deserve this… but she didn’t have the strength to kill them.

How was she to know that the church wasn’t actually helping people? That the church merely wanted to research how to gain immortality?

She needed to tell someone… she needed to report her findings to the citizens!

(Your name) quickly scurried away when she heard voices. Unaware that one of the paladins that laid in the dungeons had caught sight of her…

“(Your name)?” A distorted voice asked softly in the dark, multiple clawed hands grabbed at the steel bars that kept him contained. “My lovely girl is still so beautiful…”

“Hello, (your name).” (Your name) nearly leapt out of her skin when the familiar baritone voice of Ludwig reached her ears. She quickly whipped around with a rosy blush on her cheeks. (Your name) hadn’t seen the paladin over the last few weeks since she had been so busy sneaking around for information.

“O-oh you scared me, Ludwig…” (your name) bowed to Ludwig to try to hide her embarrassment. “I’m not used to you seeking me out.”

“Is there a problem with me seeking you out?” Ludwig quirked a brow at her which made (your name) hurriedly shake her head. She was like a rabbit. It would have been adorable if he were any other man, but alas he had no interest in her in that sense. She was a means to an end to him was all. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Not at all… have you come to ask about my whereabouts?” (Your name) asked in an excited tone, her face lit up with hope. “I found out something rather interesting. You see, the blood-“

“No. I actually came here to ask about Lady Desiree.” Ludwig frowned at how instantaneously (your name) deflated like a ballon. He needed her for this info so he should cut to the chase. “I ran into her the other night and she seemed a bit off… I’m concerned about my peer.”

“She has been a bit off lately… everyone has.” (Your name) replied softly. “The two of you, as well as the other paladins and clerics, have been consuming a lot of the blood for power right?”

Ludwig nearly sighed aloud in frustration. Was (your name) trying to sneak her research into this conversation? He couldn’t care less about that, he merely wanted to know if Desiree was actually uncivilized.

“Yes.”

“Desiree has been quite stressed lately. She’s been working really hard.” (Your name) frowned at Ludwig. She may be naive but she wasn’t stupid, she knew Ludwig didn’t want to hear about her secret discover… no one did. “I think she should take a break for a while, maybe she’d get back to normal quicker? I’m worried about her too, Ludwig.”

Ludwig nearly screamed aloud in frustration. (Your name)’s information wasn’t useful at all! She wasn’t useful and it took everything in him not to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze-

A flash of white hair caught his eye, which made him compose himself. There Desiree was- what on earth?

Desiree slammed her shoulder into Ludwig’s to bend down to hold (your name)’s hands with a soft smile on her face.

“You’re worried about me?” Desiree’s breathing is irregular and that’s when Ludwig noticed the bandages wrapped around her arms. Had Desiree injured herself? She didn’t have any injuries during the most recent hunt… “You don’t have anything to worry about, I’m perfectly okay.”

“Desiree, you have not been coming to my healing sessions and you’ve been so irritable lately.” (Your name) whispered, her eyes filled with concern. “Desiree, what happened to your arms?!”

Desiree looked nearly euphoric when (your name) fretted over her which raised alarm bells in Ludwig’s head. Why did Desiree act so strange around (your name) when he was right here? Ludwig deserved Desiree’s attention-

Ludwig felt bile rise in his throat when he thought he saw a red eyeball on the back of Desiree’s neck. What the hell was that?

Ludwig rubbed his eye and it was no longer visible. He swore he saw an abnormality on Desiree but perhaps his mind had played tricks on him. He had been exhausted as of late due to the mess the ink left behind on his desk and floor. It took days to scrub it all out. He had to get on his hands and knees like a beggar!

Yet there was still black ink stuck under his nails. He had tried to pick under them with a sharp tool but even then, the tar black wouldn’t leave his nails. It was unsightly… just like the disheveled Desiree before him.

“Nothing to be concerned about. I’m perfectly okay.” Desiree glared at Ludwig who seemed puzzled over the matter entirely. Desiree couldn’t stand that narcissistic jerk. “How about you come to my study with me?”

“Your study? We should go to the infirmary.” (Your name) grabbed Desiree’s hand and began to drag the paladin toward the infirmary. “Goodbye, Ludwig.”

Ludwig bit his tongue, his eyes narrowed at (your name) who dragged Desiree away. He was angry yet… why did Desiree look at (your name) like a starved animal? (Your name) was a helpless lamb… what if Desiree hurt her? Wait.

Ludwig felt his stomach flip in anxiousness. Why were his emotions so jumbled? Why did he care what happened to the saintess?

Ludwig went to turn on his heel to head back to his own study but an overwhelming emotion overtook him. He needed to follow them. He needed to know the truth.

And so the cleric slinked after the two in the shadows. Ludwig hoped Desiree didn’t find him creepy…

He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if his angel hated him.

(Your name) felt bile in her throat at the many eyes and patches of fur that littered Desiree’s arms. This was so much worse than she thought… Desiree was turning into a beast.

“It’s really not that bad-“ (your name) smacked her hands on Desiree’s cheeks. The healer slowly began to sob which instantly made Desiree frantic. “No, don’t cry. I’m okay-“

“I made a discovery awhile ago...” (Your name) sobbed as she placed her head on her friend’s shoulder for comfort. “The blood is tainted. It’s evil… but I can’t get anyone to believe me-“

“Darling, I assure you that I’m stronger than ever. This is merely a setback-“

“None of you are slaying monsters.” (Your name) muttered so softly, Desiree almost didn’t hear her. “You’re killing humans. I… I saw the missing soldiers in the basement and they started to turn into monsters. I don’t want you to go there too. I don’t want you to be an experiment…”

“I’m just so happy you care so much about me and the other soldiers.” Desiree smiled at (your name), her hands held (your name)’s in her calloused palms. “Your eyes are always on Ludwig so I had assumed he was the only star in your galaxy… it upsets me to see you fawn over that narcissistic bastard.”

“Oh I merely admire Ludwig. He’s very goal oriented and a great role model. He just makes me nervous is all. I don’t like him like that-“

(Your name) gasped when Desiree suddenly flipped her over to rest on the desk. Her hands desperately grasped at (your name) clothed skin. What on earth was Desiree doing?

“W-what are you-“ (your name) gasped when Desiree slammed her lips against hers in a hungry kiss. Desiree ground her hips into (your name)’s which made (your name) quickly shove her away. “Stop!”

Desiree gasped and began to stammer our apologies. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” Desiree felt tears gather in her eyes from the rejection. She hadn’t meant to make (your name) uncomfortable… she thought (your name) had wanted to kiss too! “I don’t know what came over me-“

Desiree gasped when (your name) leaned forward and began to use her divine power on her. A warmth enveloped desire as the eyes and hair slowly began to fade away.

“Do you feel better?” (Your name) sucked in a deep breath before she exhaled in relief. A bit of sweat dropped down her forehead. She didn’t realize how much divine power it would take to reverse the change… but it was possible. “If you start to change again, can you come to me?”

Desiree nodded her head, her cheeks still red with embarrassment. How foolish was she to believe the saintess harbored romantic feelings for her…

“I’m sorry for doing that. I’m so ashamed-“ Desiree’s eyes widened when (your name) placed a finger over her lips.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed.” (Your name) gave Desiree a reassuring smile. “Loving someone should never be shameful. You just shouldn’t kiss people without asking them.”

Oh… oh! Did this mean Desiree had a chance?!

“Then… can I kiss you, Saintess (your name)?” Desiree asked in a hushed voice. Her silver eyes heavy with lust as her body caged (your name) to the desk.

“Of course Dame Desiree.” (Your name) was instantly pulled into a hungry kiss. The two women’s hands awkwardly roamed each other’s bodies until they found the perfect ratio of petting to kissing.

Little did the two lovers know of a certain paladin who had seen the entirety of their confession. Large horns began to sprout from his head as black fur covered his body.

What did (your name) mean she didn’t like him like that? Then why did she always seek him out if she didn’t love him? Was this all a game of hers to take Desiree from him? To play with him like a cat does a mouse until it gets bored?

No… he couldn’t accept this. They couldn’t be together. No, one of them had to be with him.

Ludwig quickly scurried off into the shadows before he was discovered. His body rapidly changing from man to beast as his jealousy consumed him.

When Ludwig finally made it back to his study, his new appearance horrified him. He was now as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside…

He was a monster.

671 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

concept from this post

626 notes · View notes

darkenedurge · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐨 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

"My dear, surely you don't want to waste this party speaking with an old paladin?"

The younger tiefling's tail swayed behind her, like a coy kitten – a swish, swish, of subtle annoyance. Her brows furrow, and Zevlor almost wants to laugh at her blatantly obvious distaste toward his words.

Until, he doesn't. Because her next words, barrel into his chest like a freight train.

"There are things we can do besides speak, then." And she's serious. Completely, intently.

He can't catch his breath, splutters and stumbles – his wine, fortunate to still swill within its chalice confines. With a cough, and an uneasy chuckle, he offers a light, but dishonest shake of his head.

"You don't like me?" She asks, disheartened – and, painfully so. Her eyes have softened, expression twisting with regret. Zevlor panics.

Panics a little too much. An admittance falling all too hastily from his mouth, "I do! I really do. Since the very moment you set foot through that gate.."

Light, within her eyes once more. Still, she remains wordless, awaiting further explanation. Such, she deserves, he supposes.

"It's just.." A pause, "It's been a while."

Her hands unexpectedly find his, being careful not to tip his drink for a second time, "I don't mind. I want you, Zevlor."

As if there weren't enough heat, torturously lingering between them already..

Her words, the very smallest grace of her touch, sends blood rushing below. To where it shouldn't be, arguably, but it's there all the same. And it's dizzying. Zevlor opens his mouth to once again force her away, lips parting. Yet, what leaves is a quiet, "Then, please."

With a tug, she's dragging him out, away from the vicinity of camp – whipping past watchful, knowing eyes. For a brief, brief moment, Zevlor wishes to disappear. That's until he's tumbling backward onto a bedroll, grass licking at his ears, as her mouth finds his.

And, by the Gods does she taste incredible. Sweet, like ambrosia. Like every piece of Elturel, of what he'd lost, returning to him in one, fell swoop.

His hands settle on her waist, thumbs tracing circles against her clothed skin. Her hand, on a horn – tracing the ridges with an adventurous fingertip. The other, is already palming him – earning an unrestrained, whimpering sound.

He's never been wanted like this.

"Patience," He murmurs, as she breaks for air, "I want to savour every bit of this.. if you'll let me."

She considers, before giving a small, affirming nod – "How do you want me? This is your night."

With a shred of mustered confidence, he succeeds in rolling her onto her back – beneath him, as he had been for her. Hunger, need, dances within her irises.

"No, my love, it is not.. you're our hero, after all. And, I'd like to taste you." His fingers hook beneath the waistband of her camp garments, slipping them down with ease. She doesn't wear underwear to bed, it seems.

Or perhaps, this was an exception for him. That thought, only made him all the more hard – near painfully so. He neglects his own needs for now, parting her legs with gentle encouragement.

Zevlor dips his head, being mindful of his horns, nose burying in her cunt with no sense nor need of patience – his tongue, quick to gain a taste of her. The sweetness of her forces a guttural growl rumbling from the back of his throat, and her hips arch – one hand back, upon a horn. The other, nestling in his hair.

He's slow, to begin with, tongue swirling her clit with expert technique, and with patience. His resolve is strong, until his name whines past her lips – hips rolling. Then, and only then, does he further his pace, the pressure of his tongue increasing tenfold. His name, again, again, again.

"Zevlor," She moans, cries, "Zevlor, I can't–"

“You can, my heart,” He lifts his head, only for a split-second, “Cum for me, be good.”

A few, additional, incoherent murmurs pour from her mouth – until a flurry of gasps, and pitched moans interject, her orgasm riding mercilessly through every nerve and limb. Zevlor steadies her shaking thighs with a tight, yet not harsh, grip – lapping up her juices, supping one, last taste.

Zevlor grant her a moment – peppering kisses up, down her thighs as her breathing steadies to a regular pace once more, despite the occasional hitch as his teeth graze her skin.

“You did so well,” He praises, following her unspoken lead, as she guides him against a nearby tree – sinking to her knees, “You.. you don’t have to do this, my girl.”

She doesn’t reply, but rather ignores him, the cold night air of spring breathing against his cock as it’s pried free – sending a shudder, coursing through him. Her thumb runs over the ridges, that line the length of his shaft, and he almost buckles – clawed fingers grasping at tree bark to re-steady himself. The notion earns a small, adorable breath of a laugh from her, before the entirety of him disappears within the cavern of her mouth. Her tongue teases the tip, cheeks squeezing the length of him. He could’ve cum at the snap of her fingers, at the first, instantaneous press of her tongue against his cock. But he holds back.

Her efforts are swift, clear that her favour was merely in order to prepare him for her. Prepare herself, to take him. She releases him with an audible ‘pop!’, and gazes up at Zevlor – doe-eyed, pupils blown wide with blaring desire. “How do you want me?” An echo, of a question she’d prior asked, before he was gifted the taste of her. The divine taste of her.

Zevlor’s head is reeling, and there’s an unintentional silence as he considers his options. The colour in his cheeks darkens, “Would it be.. old-fashioned of me, to ask for missionary?” A following silence, accompanied by her smile, “I just.. I want to see your face, my girl. My pretty girl.” His hand, caresses her hair upon the words that leave him, and her eyes briefly flutter.

“No,” She replies, catching his wrist, and pressing a kiss to the inner-side – “I think that’s lovely, Zevlor.”

Her words are cemented, as she’s on her back once more – her shirt rid from her body, rolled and placed beneath the small of her back as a makeshift pillow, leaving her bare before him. His breath catches in his throat, admiration ghosting across his expression. Lowering, their hands conjoin in aiding Zevlor out of his armour – his gaze cast aside, shy.

“You’re incredible,” She breathes, hands now tracing the expanse of his stomach, bumping over the ridges that adorn his skin – mirroring those on his cock. His eyes squeeze shut, still shy, but he smiles.

“Are you ready, my heart?” He then asks, clinging to the courage that allows him to look in her eyes, allows him to cup her cheek – thumb running over visible freckles that littered her skin. She nods, tail winding around his leg. Zevlor swallows, thickly, his tail mimicking her own – spreading her legs as it wound.

“I hope your tail speaks truth,” He utters, as he lines himself with her slick, pleading entrance, “I wish for nothing more than to be your mate. Beyond this moment.”

“It does,” The words are spoken in a sharp gasp, as he sheathes himself inside, her walls fluttering graciously around his cock – “I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever,” He pants, hips pistoning at a far quicker, and harder, pace than he’d anticipated, forehead coming to rest against hers – horns gently bumping, “Forever, my heart.”

Her moans slip into tandem with his thrusts, and she clings to him in any way she possibly can – cunt, impossibly tight around his cock, nails pressed into his skin, tail still wound around him. The sounds of their sex is embarrassingly loud, unrestricted. Zevlor’s name rolls off of her tongue like a prayer, and he can’t see himself lasting much longer.

To which, he announces, voice cracking, breaking, “I won’t.. I’m not going to last..”

“Then, don’t,” Is quipped in reply, in speedy succession, a kiss pressed to his lips – “Cum for me. Cum inside me.”

Zevlor’s eyes widen, the knot that coiled within his abdomen beginning to snap, “You’re sure?” – the question is strangled from his throat, hips still driving relentlessly into her.

“Yes,” She whines, “Yes, yes, yes, just– please.”

And who is he, if not a man, living to please his partner? Zevlor allows himself to tip, or rather crash, over the precipice – filling, spilling his seed into her with a shuddering cry of release.

They remain, for a minute or three, within one another’s embrace – kisses planted upon Zevlor’s shoulder, before her lips are stolen by his, tongues dancing in perfect unison.

“I love you,” Zevlor rasps, before interrupting himself with yet another, sloppy kiss, “I love you so much, my darling.”

“I love you too, Zevlor.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #bg3 #tav x zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #zevlor x you #tiefling tav #tieflings #bg3 smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 2 months

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i keep laughing when i read the dnd campaign with the beast pirates-

now i need to see how it would go with shanks and his crew

Imagine DND game night with the Red Hair pirates

Yassop: *the reluctant DM* All alright, so you've all fallen through a sinkhole and landed in the goblin King's throne room. Benn's paladin lands directly on the heir to the goblin throne, dealing *rolls dice* 17 points crush damage, and you killed him.

Benn: oh come on, I didn't even do anything.

Yassop: the goblin king, with his too-tight pants, ruffly white shirt, and long blond hair, launches himself to his feet. And in a booming voice, he yelled out, "These outsiders have murdered my son! Throw them in the dungeon!"

You: but it was Benn's fat ass that did it! Why do I have to go to the dungeon?

Yassop: The goblin king pauses, clearly thinking it over, after a moment he says, "Fine, that one's excused," before yelling, "but the rest go to the dungeon!"

Lime Juice: fuck me.

Shanks: what the fuck, we just broke out of jail less than three in-game hours ago!

Yassop: *definitely not punishing them for murdering an important NPC, and is trying to buy himself time to figure out what to do* Huh, I hadn't noticed...

Lucky Roux: For the love of god!

Yassop: Anyway, the entire party, minus (y/n) Dragon born, is taken to the dungeon. The goblin king turns to your dragon-born and looks you over, "Now, what shall we do with you?"

You: I'd like to roll a perception check, I'd like to know the vibe of the goblin king's court, from the nobles to the servants. *Rolls a D20* Fifteen with my plus eight modifiers, so twenty-three.

Yassop: Both groups, nobles, and serfs, are terrified of their king. You can see that a servant in the far corner has bandages under his shirt. It appears that he's been flogged recently. You notice, the nobles' eyes darting nervously as they mutter to one another.

You: I'd like to offer my services to his majesty, as a bard.

Yassop: The king scoffs, "I have plenty of bards, I have no use for another, you shall tend to the hearths of my castle. Go, start with the kitchens." You are taken to the kitchens and see it's dark, humid, hot, and crowded. The servants are wary of you, you see many of them are injured, and gaunt. The châtelaine approaches you and hands you a large rusty ring of keys and a map. She tells you your responsibilities are to make sure all the fires in the castle are lit.

You: and how much am I paid?

Yassop: she scoffs, "Your pay is food in your belly, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back. Now get started." And she leaves in a huff.

You: I'd like to persuade the servants to work together to overthrow the Goblin King because they deserve fair wages and safe working conditions.

Lime Juice: *chortling,* of course, unionizing them is your first move.

Yassop: *frustrated,* roll a d20.

You: *rolls* nat twenty, let's fucking go!!

Yassop: you inspire a popular servant to take the lead, and they overthrow the goblin King. The servants beat him to death. *Rubbing his temples in irritation*

You: I free the group from the dungeon while the servants deal with the king, using the keys and map the châtelaine gave me.

Shanks: Before we leave, can we look for treasure?

You: .... let's only take a reasonable amount, we wouldn't want to make them our enemies.

Benn: very wise.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #red hair pirates #red haired pirates #benn beckman #yassop #lucky roux #lucky roo #lime juice #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #no beta we die like men #4/6/24

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spider-jaysart · 4 months

Text

Okay soooo, first time I'm doing something like this, but I wanna introduce a fave oc of mines today that I've been working on for a longtime now :)

Her name is Nadja Al Ghul-Wayne-Kent and she's a Damijon kid

(Click for better quality)

@camo-wolf @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65

The name Nadja means "hope" in Arabic. My very dear friend @theredheaded-stuff was the one who helped me pick it. And her hero name is Super Canyon, which is inspired by the Canyon Wren bird

(More under the cut)

(Edited some stuff on this post now btw)

Backstory:

After being inspired by the story of how Kon was created, a secret group of no good scientists, who just love causing chaos with many of their inventions, decided one day to create a mixed clone of both Damian and Jon, thinking they can do better than Lex did, so they collected both of the boys DNA's after one of their recent battles in public and got to work. Once their experiment was supposed to be done, they saw that their machine had actually created a baby girl instead of a grown, powerful clone like they had wanted, so they were ready to dispose of her as a failed subject, but were suddenly stopped just on time by Damian and Jon who broke into the place and kicked their butts after finding out that a recently committed crime they were investigating was caused by them. When they were done, the boys found Nadja and were surprised to find out she's a clone related to them both. They decided to take her with them and made her their daughter to raise together after that.

Personality:

She's helpful, stubborn, is as intelligent as Damian is, friendly but also tough when she needs to be, observant, sometimes a little too honest about things but doesn't always mean it as rude, courageous (a trait that can be pretty helpful sometimes, but also get her into really big trouble during dangerous situations too), a prankster, and very protective of others, especially her loved ones

Abilities and skills:

She has the usual Kryptonian abilities, which are flying, super strength, superhearing, superspeed, superbreath, ice breath, invulnerablity, x-ray vision, and laser vision that's purple instead of the usual red (because Lois has purple eyes, so it's something unique that was passed onto her that way). Sometimes they don't always work though and can accidentally get out of hand too since she's still growing and learning, but Jon aways tries his best to help her get better at using and controlling them. Nadja also uses many concentrating tips from Damian too for improvement, like meditating for example and other things like that, and he helps her practice them

And because she's half Kryptonian, she also has a couple of unlocked special abilities of her own too, which is invisiblity, the ability to phase through walls and objects, plus the power to also transfer the heat of her laser vision into the palm of her hands to burn who or whatever she touches and she can also let it absorb her whole body too if she wants, which makes her even more untouchable and at the same time lets her release a strong fiery blast around herself onto enemies or incoming threats (her body glows completely purple whenever she does this and if it's just her hands, the same happens to them too). Nadja hasn't been able to properly master these special powers yet though, only one of them, which is the invisiblity one

For skills, thanks to teachings from Damian, plus Talia whenever she visits her, Nadja knows how to use a sword and fight well in combat in case her powers aren't working the way she urgently needs them to during patrols and missions

Random facts:

She calls Damian Baba and Jon Dad.

She calls Clark "Grampops" and Bruce "Grampbats". For Talia, she calls her "Grandmother" and for Lois, she calls her "Grandmama".

Her best friend is her same age Cousin Dick II, the Son of her much older Cousin Jake Grayson and his Wife Meredith Robinson. In the Batfamily (besides Damian), she's close with all her Aunt and Uncles. And for the Al Ghul's, she also gets excited whenever she visits Talia and Ra's. And while she definitely also gets along a lot with her other relatives who are in the Superfamily, the person she's most closest to there (besides Jon ofc) is Kon, due to them both being created as clones meant for evil but turned out good instead, which got them to bond even more as Uncle and Niece.

Her voice sounds like Clementine's from Telltales the walking dead games, but specifically the version of it from season 2 for the tween age she's in right now.

She has messy hair like Jon when she lets it loose. Jon is the one who always has to brush her hair whenever it gets tangled up, since the steel strength of it is just too difficult for Damian to actually handle himself.

Nadja laughs at Damian's jokes all the time since she gets his dark humor and he loves that. They always laugh a lot about it together but when Jon's around, they're Iike "You wouldn't get it" and he gets all offended.

Jon passed his love for noodles onto Najda and Damian's usually like "That's not healthy!!" And tries cooking her vegetarian meals more often or healthy ones that Talia would used to make him back when he was a kid, just so that Najda will eat real food lol. Najda also really loves the meals that comes from Damian's culture too and gets happy whenever he makes them for dinner.

For nicknames, Jon will sometimes call her "Sweetpea", "Sugar cookie", and "Tootsie pops", while Damian calls her "Habibti", "Thamin" (meaning "precious" in Arabic), and "Galbi" (which means "my heart" in Arabic)

Damian matches his outfits with Nadja all the time just like Talia would always used to do with him when he was a little kid. He does this with Jon included too and they take pictures together.

When making her hero suit, Damian was the one who helped Nadja out in drawing the designs and brainstormed ideas with her. When she had finally found one she liked and was ready to make it, Damian and Jon could've helped her sew it and everything, but they didn't have many materials that she could use or a sewing machine either, only a regular sewing kit that they use to fix up their own suits whenever they get damaged, so they let her make it with Ma's help instead at her place when they visit her and Pa again, since she actually owned a machine and also had a sewing room filled with many useful materials. When asked, Ma didn't mind letting Nadja use her stuff at all and was instead delighted about it since it would just give them the chance to spend time with eachother while doing one of her favorite hobbies together.

And next time, while having their usual Mother and Son days out together, Talia helped Damian pick out the sarong skirt for Nadja while hanging around stores, since they thought it would be nice for her to have one. Jon was the one who bought Nadja the red sneakers while shopping together with Kathy, since it reminded him of Kathy's old purple, rainbow ones, but with a twist of red thrown onto it, which also reminded him a lot of his favorite old ones that he used to always wear as a kid too. Dick and Cyborg helped her insert digital tech into her cuffs, which lets out hologram screens that let her know whenever she's over using her powers since she's still mastering them and it does plenty of other useful things for her too.

Najda was also given a mask to go with her suit at first too since she thinks it's annoying to wear glasses in her regular life everyday, but then it got lost during a fight and some villains saw her face, so she was still forced to go with the glasses route in the end anyways.

As adults, Jon's a scientist and Damian's a veterinarian. Najda likes visiting both of her Dads at their day jobs after school and doing her homework there while they work. She always promises to behave and not get in the way and if she has no work to do, she'll help them out too, which they appreciate. She also loves watching what they do and let's them happily explain their favorite stuff about the job to her. She knows a lot about taking care of animals and science because of this.

Nadja loves music and making it too. She even thinks about playing rock music for a living when she grows up. Damian and Jon support her in this and buy her the instruments she needs and they also listen to her songs when she wants to show it off to them. Because of them being in a band themselves back when they were kids, Damian, Jon, Chris, and Jake give her lessons sometimes on how to better play her instruments.

Civilians and especially interviewers always question about how they had Nadja and just assume that she's adopted or assume that just because she looks more like Damian, she's probably from a secret ex girlfriend he had before being with Jon. The last one annoys both Damian and Jon so much, especially Jon since Nadja is actually his kid too and he gets jealous at the thought of the ridiculous idea. Both him and Damian hate these rumors and just want everyone to mind their own business.

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underdark-dreams · 8 months

Text

Not sure if anyone is still following this oneshot, but I ended up writing a second chapter. Turns out I couldn't stop thinking about giving them a happier ending. (Rated M now 👀)

Rolan x Fem!Tav (Unnamed)

Good Night For Company - ch. 2

Tags: Mild Angst, Sexual Content

Word Count: 4,794 [Read on AO3]

Rolan had spent many hours cursing his timidity that night.

He’d lain sleepless at his camp as the sky lightened outside the Emerald Grove, replaying each moment in his mind. The look in her eye when she asked to kiss him—her hand tugging him toward her tent—the lovely way she collapsed against him when his lips found her soft neck.

He'd escaped the very fires of Avernus itself with his whole family miraculously alive and in tow. Yet confronted with the puzzle of her hands drawing him down to her bedroll, his mind had seized up in uncertainty. How much easier could she have made it for him?

Although, he allowed himself, he had made some sense that night. For one who daydreamed of her face as often as Rolan, the strain in her features was instantly noticeable by campfire light. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and shadowed with dark, tired circles. Even her skin seemed drained of its usual color. She needed a good night’s sleep more than anything.

But as they said their goodbyes that night outside his campsite, Rolan's hands still holding her shoulders, he could have sworn she wanted him just as badly as he did her.

Rolan shut his eyes with a groan—her face only swam behind his eyelids, that same invitation drawing him into her gaze. He pressed palms to his eye sockets until she burst apart into popping stars.

When he opened them, he was back in the torchlight of Last Light Inn and sitting in his grim new reality. There was empty silence on either side of him where Cal and Lia should have stood chattering.

Rolan dragged his tankard back towards him across the bar, until he peered down and saw the bottom.

"You two," he snapped at the little Tieflings behind the bar. The boys' conspiratorial giggles hushed immediately as they both looked at him. "Are you tending bar or not?" He waved his empty mug toward them.

"I don't know," Ide said, brows lowering in a skeptical line. Rolan tutted at him.

"It's not difficult. Bottle," he pointed at the open dry red behind the bar. "Cup," he continued, waving a hand in front of him.

"Mistress Jaheira said not to over-pour," Umi piped up, clearly not knowing the term but understanding the sentiment behind it.

"Mistress Jaheira didn't save both your hides from the Shadow Curse, did she?" Rolan snapped. He badly needed another drink; unwelcome lucidity threatened to close in. "If it weren't for me, who knows whether you two would still be out there right now."

“Stop it, mister Rolan,” Ide insisted. Rolan was opening his mouth to chastise him before he caught sight of Umi’s lip trembling.

The child was already a timid thing. Through the recent memories of too many kin lying on the road, Rolan recalled Asharak, the childrens’ fighting instructor from the Grove. He’d been cut down before their young eyes just days ago. Umi seemed especially affected by the loss. No doubt the man’s body still lay spread-eagle on the path up the hill; the urgency of survival had left no time to bury their dead.

Rolan gave a heavy sigh as he watched the child’s forlorn face. Yet again, he felt like a monster. “Go. I swear I’ll practice moderation. And if Jaheira asks, tell her I ordered you off.”

The two of them scampered away without a response, clearly eager to get away from Rolan at the first chance. If only he could escape his own unpleasant company just as easily.

But that, Rolan reminded himself, was what all this wine was for. He lurched across the bar for the bottle and tipped the rest of its contents into his tankard. Its heat down his throat welcomed him back toward oblivion.

If he still lived, their errant paladin had everything to answer for. Whether he’d lost his senses to the curse or just lost his mind entirely, Rolan cursed Zevlor for the umpteenth time for fucking off with the cultists and landing him in this unwelcome position of authority.

Rolan was no leader…at best a very, very uninspiring one. The yoke should have fallen to someone brave and selfless. Someone like broad-shouldered Ikaron. But Ikaron was now another empty body lying along the Risen Road, to be slowly consumed by the shadows.

Rolan knew he was no beacon of encouragement. He’d done his best to herd the other panicked survivors onward, however, using every last bit of evocation knowledge he had to keep them surrounded with light and flame.

He also knew it was sheer good fortune that saved them in the end. If they hadn’t found the sanctuary of Last Light Inn when they did, they’d all be shambling undead by now.

Yet somehow in the days since the ambush, he found all the children hovering around him with frightened eyes, asking him questions he barely knew the answers to himself. How were they going to save the ones who’d been taken by the cult?

Perhaps his unpleasant habit of ordering others about was finally coming around to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless, Rolan felt vexed and inconvenienced by the unasked responsibility. Weren't his siblings enough of a weight on his shoulders already? Saving everyone would be a miracle; all he could privately hope for was Cal and Lia returned to him.

If they’re still alive. Those were the thoughts that drove him to drink, and drink he did, tipping back the pewter vessel with abandon. In between bouts of liquor, however, Rolan’s mind was working as hard as it ever had.

Cal and Lia would be at Moonrise Towers. No question. Moonrise was the headquarters of this insane Absolute cult, the one whose small patrol had butchered their numbers on the road. And a fortress of that size had to have a dungeon of some sort on the lower level. Why would they go through the trouble of taking them alive just to kill them? They must have plans for them all—ones Rolan tried not to imagine in detail.

He had to think of a way to slip through unnoticed—possibly by river, if the rumors he’d overheard from the Harpers were right. How far could he get on his own? Asking any of his fellows for help was out of the question.

Rolan glanced across the common room at what pitiful few remained. Alfira sat near the open hearth, fingers going through the motions of tuning her lute strings. Her usually cheerful eyes were blank and distant. Rolan hadn’t heard her play a single note since Lakrissa had been taken with his siblings. He should have thought to comfort her, but that kind of gentleness never seemed to occur to him.

Rolan crossed his arms on the bar and dropped his horns to them. If only he’d thought faster, acted sooner, left the others to fend for themselves in order to grab hold of his brother and sister before their screams grew distant. His sharp nails dug into his palms as the sound replayed in his mind.

He wished he had anyone besides himself to be angry at. He wished he could be angry at her.

If only she'd never taught Cal and Lia how to hope to fight back or be heroes. If only she'd never taught him how to hope…for anything, he decided. For any single single thing he might wish were possible.

Through his haze of drunken self-pity, his ears pricked at some kind of shouting and commotion out front. No doubt another attack by some new shadow-cursed horror. Rolan heard one of the little ones begin calling his name.

"I’m coming, I’m coming,” Rolan spat, sliding petulantly to his feet as one hand reached for the quarterstaff leaning against the bar. “The damned hells is it this time?" He didn’t care what language the child might hear, but young Mattis was unphased.

“Stow your frown—” Mattis was grinning toothily. “Goblin killer finally made it!”

“What?” But the boy was already gone, bounding away from him through the front doors. Rolan swallowed dry against his fuzzy tongue. He felt fully awake for the first time in days, and he gripped the bar to steady himself before his feet stumbled forward.

Jaheira's enchanted vines were disentangling from her legs just as Rolan entered the courtyard. It was fortunate; he'd grown to respect Jaheira, and it would've been a shame to have to hex her. Rolan jostled through the gathered Harpers without a care in order to push closer.

She and her companions had been waylaid just past the bridge. Harper Lassandra was relaying a report in her defense, it seemed, but all Rolan could concentrate on was her face.

Her cheeks were splattered with dark, shadow-magic blood. One of her sleeves was ripped open at the shoulder, displaying another patch of blood-stained skin at the seam of her leather jerkin. By the dark circles under her eyes, she still hadn't slept properly since the Grove.

She was the most beautiful thing Rolan had seen in weeks.

Her eyes came to rest on his own face then; he watched her blink hard, as if she might be dreaming.

"Rolan?" She croaked out softly.

He had already half-closed the gap by the time she started toward him. They caught each other so hard Rolan felt the air leave his lungs in a huff, but he gathered whatever of her familiar scent he could, tinged with coppery blood though it was.

“I’m so glad you’re—I’m so glad,” she laughed shakily into his shoulder. Rolan wished he could kiss her, but it didn’t feel right in front of so many other eyes. He settled for standing back with his arms circled tight around her middle.

"Where's Lia and Cal?" She glanced around behind him, her smile fading. Rolan should have expected her constant concern for others by now, but could only look at her. Her eyes landed back on his face. "Zevlor?" She added quietly.

“Come inside.” Jaheira’s voice interrupted the silence between them. “We can talk over a drink.”

As the druid directed forces back to their posts, Rolan felt her slip out from under his arms. She approached Gale to ask something—Rolan saw the wizard glance his direction before he replied.

“Come on,” she said, jogging back into his embrace.

“What about Jaheira?”

“Gale can handle it, he’s good at talking.” She notched herself back firm against his side as they walked in. “I’d rather hear from you.”

Rolan tried his best not to stumble up the stairs beside her. He cursed his impulse to reach for the bottle at any sorrow—he must reek of it. If he did, she was kind enough not to say anything.

He led her to the empty room beside the cleric’s and shut the heavy door behind them.

“We were ambushed,” he said in a rush, before she could open her mouth. “Cal and Lia were grabbed up by those monsters on wings. Along with others. They’re being held at Moonrise.”

“We’ll find them.” Her voice was automatic and steely-certain.

Rolan nodded, borrowing what strength he could from her eyes. “We will.”

“I thought…Zevlor was leading you,” she prompted him slowly, as if she might not want to know the answer. He only shook his head at her. How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself?

“We took the same path here that you did,” she admitted to him. Rolan knew what she was saying. He remembered each and every blank, upturned face that shrank to a pinpoint in the darkness as he led the survivors away.

“I’m so sorry, Rolan.” His numbness was broken by her two hands rising to hold his face. “I just—I’m so fucking sorry—”

For some reason, his grief felt more real than it had yet. Rolan looked down at her bloodstained face and folded his fingers around one of her wrists. It would be idiotic to cry in front of her, so he kissed her instead.

His lips shook against hers, from sorrow and from want in equal measure. Rolan didn’t want to think about his dead friends, or his family waiting for rescue in a dark dungeon—just for a moment, he wished he could lose himself in her. She was the one person he could let himself unravel with.

“Rolan, wait—” But she didn’t want him to wait. Rolan heard it in her breathless voice against his lips, felt it in the way her hands clutched at his clothing to pull him closer.

He knew she must taste the alcohol on his breath. Hadn’t he said something to her that night in her tent? Something about wine and sex being a bad mix.

Foolish words of a foolish man who still thought he'd have time to do things properly. Rolan couldn’t remember them, and right now, this seemed like the best thing that could ever happen in such a desolate place.

Was it so wrong to want her? Even now, with the rest of his life crumbling around him?

Only his very real feelings for her could have broken through the haze. With a lurch of effort, Rolan stumbled back from her. The four walls of their room pressed in unbearably quiet without the sounds of hands and lips filling the air. Her eyes shone dark to him in the candlelight, pupils blown wide in a way that his deepest instincts recognized with primal satisfaction. He was certain his eyes blazed with just as much desire.

Rolan licked his lips, gathering his last shreds of control. “Tell me to go,” he rasped. “Say it, and I will.”

He was rooted to the spot to await her judgment. She was silent before him, only a soft pant from between her lips. Rolan stood there for what felt like an agonizing eternity as her eyes traveled over his face.

So slowly it felt like a dream, she raised one arm across to her opposite shoulder. The gesture made no sense to him at first. Until Rolan heard buckles clicking and watched the plates of her leather armor shed from her chest like scales to the floorboards.

Her tunic was next, and before Rolan could ready himself it was up over her head and thrown on top of her armor, her bare breasts covered only by a few stray wisps of her hair.

He swayed where he stood, lightheaded; her darkly shining eyes didn’t break from his for a moment, even as her hands were already moving to the fastenings of her belt.

Rolan felt an ache like loss. Those should be his hands—gently undressing her, taking his time as he slowly unveiled each new and beautiful expanse of her flesh—not the two of them rushing through this first moment of newness that they’d never get back. Because even as the thought occurred, he himself was ripping his own robes off his shoulders without a care for the state of them. They would have time enough some other night.

She was faster, already kicking her pants off her bare feet. She wore nothing underneath—the realization brought a groan from his throat. Once his last garments dropped forgotten to the floor, she practically pounced.

Rolan had just enough reflex to catch her as she threw her body against his. Her bare skin on his was electric, filling his mind with wild want even as he tried to take in every sensation at once. Her taut breasts pressed against his chest—fingers lovingly exploring the ridges on his shoulders and back—the heat between her legs barely grazing against his thigh, yet enough to send his mind reeling. She made him feel real again.

And her lips—how could he have already forgotten how sweet she tasted? He kissed her back with hunger, wishing he might dissolve into her soft warmth for good.

Rolan wasn’t as strong as he wished, and he was tipsy as all hells, but he did his best as he guided their bodies down on top of their clothing. Her hips and shoulders thumped under his weight against the wood boards. Surely it must have hurt her—but then he felt her legs cross behind his bare flanks, rutting their hips together, and every other concern was lost.

Slick wetness pressed against his pelvis as she rolled herself against him. The proof of how much she wanted him, if Rolan had any lingering doubts. He fell braced on his forearms around her.

“I missed you so much,” she gasped against his lips. Rolan paused everything as his eyes opened to meet hers, almost too close to focus. “Rolan, I wish we—I should have—” Her face shone with more yearning than he could bear.

"I know, dearest, I know—" The endearment fell with shocking ease from his lips. Though he might share them, tonight was not for regrets. There were enough of those going around to last a lifetime.

Rolan stopped them with his mouth, licking and tasting her as deeply as she would let him, one hand splaying under her thigh to angle her hips deeper against his own.

With anyone else, Rolan might have felt self-conscious about how hard he’d been since the moment she undressed for him. With her, what would be the point? She'd confessed more with her body and her words than he'd ever expected.

His ridged length pressed between them, his underside slickening with each rocking motion she made against him. He broke from her slightly.

"Tell me." The words came out husky. Rolan didn't mean them to tease her, only wanted her to direct him, but the way she squirmed under him was addictive.

"I want you," she breathed, and he felt fingers clasp behind his neck. "Please, Rolan—"

How could he deny her anything? Rolan grabbed himself to guide and nudge his tip to her folds, spreading her wetness along his length best he could. She deserved so much better than a hard floor in the middle of nowhere. But everything felt too urgent, like they were at the edge of the world’s end. And her face held nothing but eagerness as she watched him.

Gently, slowly, he guided himself just inside her. She was perfect; Rolan's head dropped to her chest as he exhaled with a shudder.

"Oh—" She only let out the little gasp, but her hands hooked under his ears, tilting his head back up so she could press lips to his forehead and eyelids.

"More," she purred against him.

Reflexive, Rolan pushed into her to the hilt and let out a groan at how perfectly she gripped him. She hummed in satisfaction, her legs pressing tighter around his hips to hold him there.

It was somehow tender and frantic all at once. Rolan's hips rolled into her with increasing urgency, even as he cradled her face up toward his with both his forearms, wanting to watch each sensation play out over her face.

When he hit a new angle inside her, her fingers actually gripped one of his horns as her lips gasped open. It sent a shudder reverberating through his core.

"So good," she gasped. "You feel so perfect—"

He would do anything to keep it feeling that way for her. He ducked his mouth to her breast, sliding his tongue over one tight bud and sucking her into his mouth.

"Fuck, Rolan—" Her voice canted up a register, and he felt her walls tremble and grip around him with each thrust. Her fingers clutched sweetly at the ridges over his shoulder blades.

In the back of his mind Rolan wondered whether the whole inn could hear his name on her lips, but he wasn't sure he cared, wasn't sure he didn't fucking love the idea in fact.

Both of them were starved for it, and neither of them could last much longer. Rolan groaned something into the flesh of her breast, words lost to the way her body shook under him just as he unraveled all around her. He collapsed against her soft chest and held her tight with trembling arms.

—---

"What did you say before?"

As he drifted back to reality, Rolan lifted his head from her to rest his chin on her stomach. "Hmm?"

She was looking down at him with shy curiosity. "When you came," she said. He loved hearing words like that casually tumble from her. "You said something, I didn't recognize the language."

Rolan realized with some embarrassment that she was right. "I did, didn't I." He moved to press his lips along her abdomen, as if it might distract her from the topic. But she was far too stubborn for that.

"Going to tell me or not?" He felt his insides melt as she traced her thumb along the lines of one of his pointed ears.

Rolan regretted letting her in on that fact about Tiefling anatomy, and he told her so with a grumble. She only laughed and gave his ear point a teasing tug.

Rolan closed his eyes against the feeling instead. "It's Infernal," he admitted to her. He hadn't spoken the tongue in many years; the fact he remembered any was a surprise even to himself.

"Oh." She didn't sound put off, only curious. "What did it mean?"

He carefully considered how to answer. "There's…not a word in Common that directly translates." Rolan met her eyes as his lips brushed absently near her navel. "A feeling that cleanses like holy fire. 'Love of salvation.'"

She gazed down at him. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," she whispered.

Rolan reached to smooth her hair across her forehead. "Is it? To be cleansed, you have to be corrupted first."

"Is that an offer?" she asked, a grin teasing at the corners of her mouth. “I mean, we’re all pretty corrupted around here. Don’t forget I’ve already got a worm in the head.”

Abruptly, she pushed herself seated upright; Rolan caught himself back against his knees.

"I’m an idiot," she gasped. “Rolan—that’s how I get to the Moonrise dungeons. This tadpole makes me a True Soul. I can walk right through the fucking front door!”

Anxiety gripped him as he watched the excitement unfold on her face. Rolan wasn't sure he could watch her willingly rush into a den of vipers.

"I'm coming with you," he insisted, already knowing she would tell him no. She shook her head at him.

“I wish you could,” she told him, and he believed her. “You're not tadpoled, the guards would know. But I'll take as many of my companions as I can, I swear. We can do this," she added, gripping his forearm.

It was all too fast; Rolan caught her hand before she could rise. "Wait," he implored firmly. “Let me travel with you to the bridge, at least.”

That she agreed to. They dressed quickly—though Rolan couldn't resist grabbing her a few times to kiss what bare flesh was still exposed, absolutely adoring the way she melted under his hands and mouth each time.

When he and her party stood at the bridge to the Tower, Rolan regretted agreeing to this all over again. She only gave him a quick peck on the lips with the soft promise of more later, and headed down the walkway with her companions.

Rolan stayed back in the shadows to watch her speak with the guards. His heart pounded in his throat. There was a short exchange; even his sensitive ears couldn’t catch the words. But then the guards stood down, and she and her friends walked freely through the front doors of Moonrise Towers. He allowed himself to feel a sliver of hope.

Back at the Inn, Rolan paced around the hall for what felt like an eternity. Mol complained he was making her dizzy. In reality, it couldn't have been more than a few hours.

When he heard the soft shout of the patrol below, Rolan rushed through the wide doors and down to the underground port.

Cal and Lia stood alive and well on the wooden docks. Her too, further down the line—she even caught his eye with a smile. Rolan could have laughed in relief, but the guards curtly ordered him back while the Harper on duty checked them over with Jaheira's bottled tadpole.

Rolan deeply wished to aim a cantrip at the man's skull, but he clenched his fists to gather his last remaining shreds of patience.

When they were cleared, all of them dashed together. Rolan gripped Cal and Lia's heads with a hand each, holding them tight against him.

"You absolute fucking idiots—" Rolan was half scolding, half trying not to cry. "Don't you dare stick your necks out like that again, do you hear me?"

"I'll remember that the next time we get kidnapped by murderous lunatics," Lia's voice said into his shoulder, but she was squeezing his ribs tight.

"Sorry," was Cal's only meek response, and Rolan stifled the juvenile urge to rumple his little brother's hair.

"Just get inside," Rolan said as he released them. "When was the last time you both ate?"

They both complained over his continued fussing, but each of them obeyed him in the end. The return of bickering and normality somehow eased a weight from Rolan's heart.

As the Tieflings he knew and the deep gnomes he didn't all made their way up the stairs to the Inn, Rolan linked his arm around her waist beside him.

"I love you," he told her first, low so that only she could hear. Then—"thank you."

"Thank those lot up there," she told him, though he heard through the smile in her voice that she hadn't missed his confession. "They were ready to fight tooth and nail out of there. I just unlocked the bars."

In the dark Rolan placed a swift kiss on the crown of her head, and was rewarded by the feel of her cheek leaning sideways against his shoulder.

Last Light Inn still had an undeniable gloom to it, but it was lightened considerably by the reunions of friends and lovers. To Rolan's eye the hall seemed practically packed compared to a few hours earlier.

His siblings settled back at the bar, removed from the chatter at the hearth. Rolan watched them toast each other with two very well-earned pints. As they both launched into conflicting narratives of their adventure, Rolan felt a deep sense of ease soak into his bones.

"This one's fucking amazing, by the way—" Lia was gesturing her mug to the woman at Rolan's side. "Watched her cut down a Moonrise guard with one swing of a sword. You better have thanked her properly, Rolan," she added.

His sister was clever; Rolan strongly suspected she knew what she was doing. He decided to play dumb for the sake of the dear person beside him, whose cheeks he could practically feel burning from here.

"Believe me, I will," Rolan said. As he spoke, he drew her toward him again with an arm around her middle.

Cal was significantly slower on the uptake. "Eughh." He let out an amused noise of disgust. "Why don't you two just kiss each other alre—"

But Rolan's lips were already on hers, tilting her chin up and back with a hand so he could capture her mouth. His other arm wrapped her shoulders back against his chest, and he felt her fingers grip tight over his forearm. As they gently broke apart, the quiet lasted only for a second.

"Twelve pints at the Elfsong." Lia smacked the bar next to Cal. "That's it, you owe me."

"Taking bets on my fucking love life now?" Rolan began, his indignance slightly undercut by the fact that his love in question was shaking with laughter under his arm, both hands clasped over her face.

In the end, Rolan left his siblings to argue over the details. He was too overwhelmed with embarrassment and the desire to save her from any of the same.

As he drew her back up the stairs, Rolan felt her shoulders shaking with laughter again under his arm. He glanced sideways, wondering what had ruined the mood now.

“What?” he prompted her.

“Nothing, it’s just—” She was positively sparkling as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Can we use the bed this time?”

With a mortifying jolt, Rolan realized there was indeed a perfectly serviceable bed in the room where he’d unceremoniously taken her on the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Plenty of time for that,” she agreed, biting her lip as she drew him with her hand. “Now come on.”

#back to classic rolan pov because i am weak #rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #rolan

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Text

Pleasure

Synopsis: Astarion teaches Tiriel to give a blowjob.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: smut, oral sex, trauma talk

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The late evening is sweet and warm, the stars shining beautifully in the dark skies.

It’s Astarion’s second spring as a free person.

These months always bring hope, and even in his years of slavery Astarion sometimes dared to dream of freedom in those few weeks when nature was new.

Astarion looks to the right. Tiriel walks beside him in her spidersilk armor. The two-handed ax is strapped on her back. She looks ahead with almost child-like amusement.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

Freckles, wrinkles on her forehead, those funny half-elven ears. He knows every small detail of her body – and loves her mindlessly.

Tiriel notices his look and takes his hand. Her skin is warm, and Astarion squeezes her fingers tighter.

She is much younger, only thirty-eight. The year she was born, he was forced to entertain a certain nobleman from Amn for an entire year. And by the end of it, Astarion thought that returning back to the mansion wouldn't be so bad because at least there he could pretend he was something more than a toy to play with in bed.

Tiriel was beaten by her relatives for being a half-elf. He was beaten and tortured for fun.

Tiriel was starved and humiliated by her own blood. He was fed rats and fleas by his master.

At the age of fifteen, she managed to escape, and Astarion’s undead heart aches when he thinks about young Tiriel, almost a child, wandering the wilderness on her own, without a weapon or armor.

Shedidn’t even have a name before an old adventurer, a tiefling-paladin, explained to her that “pixie” and “fairy” aren’t an appropriate way to call a young woman, no matter her race and origin.

Tiriel told Astarion all these with a bitter smile – her cheating mother, evil chieftain stepfather, cruel siblings, years of traveling on her own, the way she chose her own name at the age of fifteen. The loneliness and pain she tried to soothe with drinking.

But Astarion knows Tiriel too well. She still suffers for what happened to her. Tears prickle her eyes when she talks about her miserable childhood.

They both have a lot of darkness in their past. She consoles him after nightmares and soothes his anxieties. He tells her how beautiful she is.

He smiles to himself. Maybe the gods did hear him after all, making Tiriel’s father stay for the night in the village in the Sunset Mountains and sleep with the chieftain’s wife. It just took Tiriel some time to grow up and get to Baldur’s Gate.

“Well, the night is young and we have many hours of travel again. I wonder if there is any village we can get to by the morning,” Astarion says.

“I doubt it. One more day in the tent, then,” she shrugs.

“Easy for you, Tiriel, you don’t have to stay inside! And I am trapped, protected from the murderous sunlight only by a thin layer of fabric.”

“First of all, you keep me for yourself until I absolutely need to go out,” she laughs. “Second, it’s an enchanted fabric, and third it’s a very big tent! Don’t complain!”

“Oh, it’s not fun to be in a relationship if I cannot complain!”

Tiriel brushes her finger along his cheek. He closes his eyes, savoring the touch. If only he knew she was already alive in the last decades of his slavery. Maybe it would make things more bearable.

Then he notices Tiriel looking to her side. She opens her mouth and then immediately shuts it, as if trying to say something but not knowing how.

His wild girl doesn’t have a wide vocabulary, that’s for sure.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Oh? Nothing!” she blushes. “Nothing-”

Astarion is sure there is something on her mind but he isn’t sure if he should push her. Tiriel doesn’t like it.

Neither does he.

They keep walking through the valley and no matter how sharpened Astarion’s senses are, he doesn’t catch any sentient creature’s scent.

There is no one for many miles.

“Astarion,” Tiriel calls him out.

“Yes? What is it?”

She takes a deep breath and stares at her feet. Astarion is sure he’s never seen her that embarrassed.

“I want to take you in my mouth.”

Astarion has to put an effort not to laugh. “And what exactly in this gods forbidden place made you want this?”

She turns her head away avoiding looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking about it for three days.”

“What self-control!”

“Don't laugh, Astarion! Besides, you've gone down on me already! Even when I was on my period!”

He chuckles remembering the taste of her moon blood. It was incomparable to anything else.

“You are a half-elf, my dear, I couldn’t miss the only time you bleed every year and a half. In your case, it’s a rare treat. Not so rare if you were a pure-blood elf of course. Then we would have to wait for a decade.”

“I want to,” she says. “I want to give you pleasure.”

“As if you don’t already give it to me,” he approaches Tiriel and puts his fingers on her neck, where a fresh bite mark is slowly healing. “But who am I to say no to such a generous offer?”

He looks around and notices a boulder that he can comfortably sit on.

Tiriel impatiently waits till he puts his sack on the ground and sits. Now Astarion can feel her arousal and he contemplates if he should just fuck her like he usually does.

He spreads his legs a bit so she can unlace his trousers without an effort.

“Should I undress?” She asks.

“Take off your armor. The rest only if you want to.”

Tiriel quickly gets rid of the spidersilk armor and stays only in her shirt and trousers. Then, she contemplates for a bit and takes off her top as well. Her skin immediately is covered with goosebumps and her nipples harden because of the cold air.

Astarion feels the tension between his legs. Tiriel knows what she has just done to him.

“Kneel,” he asks. He tries to make it sound like a request, but it sounds like an order anyway. Tiriel bites her lower lip and slowly sits down.

Astarion admires her face for a few moments and then nods allowing her to unlace his trousers. His cock is soft and Tiriel carefully kisses the base of the shaft.

“You haven’t done this before, right?” He asks, feeling his arousal grow.

“Which part of ‘I was a virgin’ don’t you remember?” She asks, planting a kiss right below his navel.

“Yes… True… Well, I’ve probably received it a couple of times, although I don’t remember. Usually, I was giving…” He shivers when Tiriel kisses his half-naked hip.

“Should I take it?” She mutters.

“Wait,” Astarion brushes her hair with his fingertips. “It will be difficult to swallow it fully, it will just be unpleasant. Use your hand.”

“Like that?” Tiriel grabs his cock the same way she grabs her weapon and Astarion gasps.

“I knew what I was getting into,” he murmurs. He feels hot down there, all his thoughts and emotions are focused on his own cock which is getting harder as Tiriel holds it.

“Yes- Yes, like that,” he grabs a fistful of her hair and makes her head lean towards his cock. “Now relax your tongue and lick the tip. Do it, don't be afraid.”

Tiriel studies the cock for a while and then touches the sensitive head with her tongue. She licks it, forcing a string of pre-cum to flow down the shaft, and then kisses the tip.

“Does it feel good?” she asks.

“Yes-”

“Great, because I like it, too,” she finally goes down and takes the part of his cock into her mouth.

Astarion whimpers as Tiriel starts sucking him. She still hasn't fully taken him into her mouth, and he doesn’t expect she will. Tiriel looks up, maintaining eye contact and he sees tears in the corners of her eyes.

Her right hand goes up under the shirt where she squeezes his right nipple forcing Astarion to moan loudly.

Inexperienced or not, Tiriel knows his body too well, all of his sensitive parts.

Then she stops half cock still in her mouth and her eyes smirk.

What is she up to?

She goes down fully, her lips meeting the base of the shaft. Astarion feels his legs shiver.

He is throat-deep in her and the feeling is like nothing that he’s experienced before. Tears flow down Tiriel’s cheeks. Astarion leans back, and Tiriel uses her right hand to reach out for his balls.

“Ngh,” he whimpers, feeling his orgasm getting closer. He thinks he should pull her head away and come on her naked breasts or on her face – he’s personally always hated getting gushed down his throat – but before he manages to make any coherent movement he finishes in Tiriel’s mouth.

Tiriel lets his still-hardened cock go and Astarion expects to hear a cough or gagging sounds but instead, she stands up on her wobbling legs, smiles, and parts her lips to show the white pool of cum on her tongue.

Then she swallows it.

“You taste divine,” she murmurs, letting him taste himself on her lips. “And look very cute right now.”

Astarion slowly returns back from the high of his orgasm.

“Did you like it?” She asks.

“It was perfect. Everything you do to me is perfect.”

She giggles and then looks at his manhood. It’s still painfully hard.

“I can do the second round,” she says, licking her lips, but Astarion pushes her onto the grass and tugs her trousers. Her own entrance is wet and swollen.

“I want you to scream my name,” he murmurs, getting rid of the last pieces of his own clothes. “I want you to moan and whimper like the good, wild girl you are,” Astarion adjusts himself and feels her warmth around him the next moment. “And then I will come on these breasts of yours.”

Tiriel cups his face and parts her swollen lips.

“I would love nothing more.”

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong @herautumnmorningelegance

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nukaberries · 2 months

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Heyo! If it's not too much trouble, could I get the FO4 companions reacting to a Sole who's super good with wild animals? Like the animal friend and wasteland whisperer perks but they're out here cuddling wild molerats and are able to pet Deathclaws. If that's not too much to ask, thank you muchly. Love your stuff!

I don't play around with Animal Friend and Wasteland Whisperer as much as I'd like to. I did once befriend a Deathclaw in Fallout 3, who died about five seconds later. He was great while he lasted though. Anyways, I'm glad you're enjoying the requests, thank you so much! I hope this one lives up to your expectations!

Companions React to an Animal Loving Sole (Includes: Cait, Codsworth, Curie, Danse, Deacon, Hancock, MacCready, Nick, Piper, Preston and X6-88)

Cait She'll immediately assume that Sole has some kind of death wish the first time she sees them carelessly approaching a wild Molerat with their hand held out. It's only when Sole doesn't lose a limb to the creature that Cait finds herself somewhat impressed, although, she makes a comment about how they'll probably catch all sorts of diseases from 'that rodent'. She doesn't think too much of it afterwards, that is until she finds Sole coming back into Sanctuary with a Deathclaw in tow, it's at that point that Cait will start to question Sole's sanity. Eventually, she gets used to finding Sole hanging out with Radscorpions, as though they aren't known for killing people without hesitation. She still finds it weird and she still isn't happy about that one time she woke up to a Radroach casually jumping around her head, but it becomes one of those things about Sole that she just accepts.

Codsworth Having known Sole for as long as he has, Codsworth is no stranger to his old friend's affinity for all different kinds of animals. He can still recall the amount of stray dogs and cats that Sole had brought into their home before the war, despite their spouse worrying that one might jump up at Shaun one day. If anything, Codsworth actually likes that this is something that hasn't changed about Sole - there's a lot of bad in the Wasteland and Codsworth knows better than any of the other companions how much this new world has changed Sole, so he finds it comforting to see some aspects of him are still the same. Of course, Codsworth is still sure to keep his distance from the creatures that Sole befriends; sure, they may like Sole, but who's to say they'll feel the same way about his robot companion?

Curie She loves having the opportunity to see the creatures of the Commonwealth up close and if Sole's happy to befriend every Mirelurk in sight, then Curie is more than happy to join him. Once Sole gets an animal to settle down, they usually tend to warm up to Curie immediately after - there was an incident with a Radstag kicking her over once, Curie doesn't like to talk about it. She also finds it interesting to see how the different animals in the wasteland have adapted and mutated to their environment and is more than happy to discuss it with Sole, if they're willing to listen.

Paladin Danse Initially, he thinks that stopping to pet every abomination that they come across is a waste of both their time and he makes this very clear to Sole. He tries to shut down Sole's attempts to befriend these animals as often as he can, although sometimes he can't help but find it quite mesmerising to watch a Deathclaw peacefully wander about right before his eyes. Still, it's only when Sole manages to tame a whole pack of rabid molerats that Danse wonders if their odd love for animals isn't so bad after all, not that he'd ever swallow his pride for long enough to admit that to Sole.

Deacon He does try to get used to the idea that Sole is going to pet every dangerous, man-eating creature that they come across, but it just freaks him out way too much. The stray mongrels following them around and wanting to play fetch are cute, even he can't deny that, although he'd prefer Dogmeat over them any day, but there's no way he'll ever get used to turning around and seeing a Deathclaw following after them like a big puppy. All Deacon asks is that Sole doesn't take it personal if he leaves them to fend for themselves when it comes to dealing with animals, he'd just prefer not to give a Molerat head scratches if he can help it.

Hancock Considering Sole chose to take him on their travels, he doesn't find it all that surprising that they'd want to pick up every other ugly stray they come across too. Admittedly, it's probably one of his favourite things about travelling with Sole, he'll never warm up to any of the bugs - Mirelurks are a firm no for him - that somehow become docile in Sole's presence, but he's got a soft spot for the Molerats. He'd love to bring one back home with him, for the sake of having some company and a mascot for Goodneighbor, but he gets the feeling nobody else in town would approve of that, so for now, it stays a simple daydream for him.

MacCready Once he gets over the shock of a pack of friendly Yaoi Guais swarming him and Sole, he's immediately jealous of this strange talent his friend has and wants to know how they do it. He refuses to take Sole not knowing for an answer and makes it his life goal to befriend at least one animal out in the Wasteland, of course, this ends with a dog bite on his arm and a bruised ego, especially when Sole manages to calm down the dog that had just attacked him. After that, he figures it's best for his own safety if he leaves the animal befriending to Sole, but he does ask for his own pet Deathclaw more times than he can count - not that it'd be very practical to have around Duncan, but a man can dream.

Nick Valentine There's not a lot left in the Commonwealth that can shock Nick Valentine, he's near enough seen it all and so, although Sole is expecting a much bigger reaction from the synth detective, he just accepts it. Besides, he once came across a girl roaming Boston Commons with a Sentry Bot for a best friend, a Mirelurk Queen isn't exactly that big of a surprise in comparison. That doesn't mean he won't go out of his way to pet any animals that Sole manages to tam on their travels, his favourite was probably the Radroach that Sole taught to roll over.

Piper Wright She genuinely thinks that she's having some kind of fever dream that first time she sees it, there's no way Sole would actually be sat at their campfire with a Mutant Hound sat on their lap peacefully. After pinching herself a few times and accepting the reality in front of her, Piper doesn't hesitate to dub Sole "The Wasteland Whisperer." If anything, she likes the bonus of not having to worry about fighting off any creatures whilst they're out on their travels, she just wishes that at least someone back in Diamond City would believe her when she told them about her Vault Dweller friend who can tame even the most vicious of creatures; even Nat thinks she's full of it.

Preston Garvey The first time that Preston saw Sole tame an animal was the Deathclaw back in Concord and for a moment, he was convinced that he was already dead and he just hadn't realised yet. At first, he wasn't sure how to bring it up to Sole to question it and so he decided not to question their odd talent at all, that was until he started travelling with them and they came across a Radroach nest. Preston still can't quite believe that there's someone out there that can befriend any animal they come across no matter what, but he finds it remarkable and he really doesn't mind when Sole brings animals back to Sanctuary. He's actually rather fond of the Yaoi Guai Sole brought back after going to clear out a settlement, he just hopes that they stay friendly, for everyone's sake.

X6-88 He doesn't see the point in befriending any of the creatures out in the Wasteland, it's far better to simply put them out of their misery after the generations of mutation they've had to endure. He makes this known to Sole immediately, which seems to offend his travelling companion, after that, he decides not to comment on it at all, aside from a few eye rolls and scoffs here and there. Of course, he doesn't complain too much when it comes to having the extra back up of a Deathclaw during a fight with raiders or Super Mutants.

#fallout #fallout headcanons #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #fallout 4

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buttermynoods · 2 months

Text

Gale x Named Tav

Summary: Gale cooks for everyone at camp while named Tav swoons over him from a distance

Warnings: None! Just fluff, some suggestive content

*for anyone wondering, yes her name was inspired by the Sarah J Maas series!

"You know," Astarions soft voice interrupts her thoughts as she breaks her gaze away from a certain someone and turns to him, "You could just go talk to him instead of staring. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Maybe he'd welcome it, even. But if he catches you staring, he might get the wrong impression of you, darling." Astarion explains, his words ever reasonable. He resumed his gaze to the stars above, which seemed to be very bright tonight. It was a beautiful nice, clear skies, crisp air, crickets singing.

Gale was in the middle of the clearing at camp, cooking dinner for all his companions. How kind, Feyre thought. She watched eagerly as his deft hands moved from the cast iron pan to the food he was preparing, skillfully preparing the pan for food and chopping vegetables while he waited. Her eyes widened slightly as his middle and ring finger found the insides of a tomato and scooped them out. It was impossible to not think of...other things those fingers could slide into. She turned away with a blush, embarrassed of her improper thoughts, and met Astarion's gaze once more,

"What would I even say? That him cooking for everyone is turning me on, and that he should keep going?" She mutters sarcastically, frustrated that Astarion was right, but also that she felt this way towards the wizard. With a tadpole in all their heads, impending doom wasn't exactly the most ideal situation to fall for someone in.

"I would say exactly that," He nods his head and then pauses, "But with a much more seductive and alluring tone, of course. Are you capable of such a thing?" Astarion teased, and it made Feyre want to shove him directly into the fire Gale was cooking over.

"Of course I can be sexy, I'm so sexy." Feyre retorts, but by the tone of her voice it's obvious she's lying to herself, not confident in the slightest.

"I don't know darling, you may have to prove that one..." He tuts, shaking his head. Feyre realizes the game he's playing with her and narrows her eyes

"Astarion." She whined, shaking her head disapprovingly at him. Competition was something Feyre had a hard time passing up, especially when it came to proving herself. As a paladin, she was ever faithful to her God, and always wanted to impress. But as a half elf, she felt like she had to defend herself against anyone who doubted her, with the intention of proving herself worthy, despite her mixed heritage. In the past, she had had problems with Elves shutting her out, regardless of her control in her heritage. She knew Astarion didn't intend for her to feel this way, but it made those feelings blossom nonetheless.

"Fine. You sit here, and watch me make that man blush. When I succeed, I get to tell you I told you so." Feyre proposed, emphasizing the when.

"Ah Ah Ah," Astarion tuts and wiggles his index finger in front of his face, "That's far too easy, I could make him blush, and he isn't particularly fond of me." He explains, his words true. "Make him blush, and give him a kiss." He proposes.

Feyre's jaw falls open slightly and she finds herself suddenly hot. "Like, on the lips?" She practically whispers, afraid of Astarions answer.

"I didn't say that. Your lips just have to meet his skin." He explains. It relieves Feyre somewhat, but her heart is still pounding out of her chest.

Feyre nods as she realizes what she agreed to and takes several deep controlled breaths. There is no reason that she should be feeling this way towards the man who had consumed magical items she could have used and is constantly mansplaining magic to her, but her feelings are present and intense. Gale was so alluring, so hard to resist. Simply being around him was enough to cloud her mind, sway her decisions. She had to know if any part of him felt the same.

"Wonderful." Astarion smirks, leaning back and resting himself on his elbows, prepared to watch.

Feyre nodded, more in reassurance of herself and slowly made her way towards Gale, her hands shaking. She turned to Shadowheart, who was already meeting her gaze with a curious look. Feyre smiled sheepishly and returned to her original plan.

She slowly approached him with her hands behind her back, fiddling with her fingers relentlessly. She stood there with Gale in silence as he cooked, him never looking up to acknowledge her.

"What are you cooking?" She finally spoke, loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to not startle him.

Gale's eyes shot up from the sizzling food in the pan and to Feyre. When they found her, his eyes noticeably softened. It's clear that her intentions to not startle him were futile.

"Oh gods, you startled me. I was miles away." He breathed, a light chuckle leaving his body, "Apologies. How can I help?" He smiled at her, and Feyre found herself staring into his eyes for a little too long.

"Right." She shook her head, snapping herself out of it. "I just...I don't know. Wanted to come talk to you." she rambled innocently, shrugging her small shoulders. "Everyone else is socializing, I figured you might want company."

"Well, your company is certainly welcomed. Here, sit." He smiles, quickly conjuring a eccentric chair for her to sit down. The simple act had Feyre swooning, feeling her knees weaken so much so that she took the seat. The chair was sturdy and comfortable, feeling nothing like magic at all. She silently praised him as she settled into her chair.

"Thank you." She smiles, blushing. From across the clearing, she meets Astarions gaze, and he smirks. Somehow, this encourages her on, and she suddenly feels a boost of confidence.

"What are you making?" Feyre asks curiously, scooting so she is sitting at the edge of the seat Gale conjured, peering into the pan.

"Ah, it's nothing. Just some vegetables stew. We didn't have any meat to add into it." Gale explains, shaking his head as if disappointed. "This is nothing compared to what I could prepare back in Waterdeep. I'm quite the cook." He says proudly, looking back to his depressing stew, "Well, when I have the proper ingredients, of course." He chuckles nervously.

"Maybe when this is all over," she tests the waters, searching for Gale's reaction. When his brows raise slightly, she knows he's intrigued and continues, "You could cook for me. Back in Waterdeep." An innocent smile forms on her lips. His eyebrows resume their neutral position and Feyre swears she can see the slightest blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears. He clears his throat and chuckles.

"I didn't think..." He places a nervous hand on the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly before continuing, "I didn't think you and me would still be in touch, after this is all over." He explains. Feyre's heart drops and she can feel herself frown slightly.

"Oh, " She pauses, "I thought we had become good friends. If I misunderstood that then-" She starts to ramble but is cut off by his soft voice,

"Oh no, it is a pleasant image, to be sure. Just unexpected." Gale reassures her. She sighs, relieved.

"I would very much like for you to come visit me from time to time whenever this is all over." Gale smiles softly, meeting her gaze. "Or perhaps, for a long time..." He tests the waters. Her eyes widen slightly, and they stay that way for a long, almost uncomfortable moment before he breaks the silence,

"Here," He says, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into the pot of soup, "Try. Tell me what it needs." He carefully approaches her mouth with the spoon of soup, one hand underneath so as to catch any drops.

Feyre feels more confident than she has since she sat down with him, and leans in to take the spoon in her mouth. She makes sure to stick her tongue out slightly so he can place the spoon rested on it, closing her mouth and swirling the soup and the spoon in her mouth in the most erotic way she knows how. Gale seemingly notices this as he watches her mouth and tongue work in tandem to taste the creation he made. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the tadpole, but in that moment Gale wanted to do more things to her than he had ever wanted to do to any mortal being in a very long time. He took a deep breath so as to calm himself as she pulled her head back, slipping the spoon out of her mouth.

"It's delicious, Gale. I can't think of anything that would make it better." She smiles, feigning innocence. She wasn't lying, either. It truly did taste very good. That only made her want him more, knowing he knew how to cook a meal. It wouldn't have, if Feyre could cook herself. But unfortunately, she spent most of her younger years keeping up with her oath, not cooking.

"Well," Feyre stands, feeling her nervousness return, "As much as I want to stay here and watch you cook, I think it's time I made my rounds, make sure everyone is happy." She explains, motioning towards the rest of their companions. Gale nods quickly, both eager for her to go so he can calm down and wishing she would stay.

She slowly walks closer to Gale so that her body is mere inches away from his, and places a hand on his chest hesitantly. When he doesn't move away, she decides to keep it there.

"Thank you, Gale. For cooking for everyone. Its very selfless, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." She explains. And it was true, she really was grateful for his cooking. But more than that, she just wanted to be close to him. Hesitantly, she leans her head closer to him and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. As she pulls away she can see the intense blush on his cheeks, and can feel her own.

"Make sure that you eat, too. We wanna keep these pretty muscles in perfect health, don't we?" Feyre states with a teasing tone, giving one of his biceps a light squeeze.

He chuckles nervously, "I hardly think the perils of our adventure would allow me to stay healthy."

"You talk too much." She rolls her eyes teasingly, and with that she steps away, and returns herself to Astarion. As she settles down next to him, she glances over at Gale who is now seemingly frozen in place, lost in thought and with a face as red as the tomato he gutted earlier.

The second she sits down, she puts her face in her hands to hide her embarrassment. Astarion chuckles,

"That was impressive darling." He says softly, "I truly didn't think you had it in you."

"I want him so bad Astarion." Feyre whined, ignoring his previous statement. "I swear if I hadn't stepped away I would've taken my clothes off right then and there." She admits, only half kidding.

"Now that is something I do not want to watch."

#gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate gale #gale fanfic #fluff #gale fluff #bg3 fluff

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vixstarria · 4 months

Note

I’m enjoying your snippets. I guess I have a prompt, or more like a scene that made me giggle.

Imagine Tav is a paladin who took the oath of vengeance. Except she’s very new and bubbly. So after finding out Astarion is a vampire spawn and he was tortured by his master, she excitedly vows to personally make Cazador suffer in excruciating detail. Astarion’s like, “Uh…thanks?”

I can’t stop laughing at the thought of Astarion being protected by a small, bubbly paladin that’s vibrating with excitement to avenge Astarion. Like a bloodthirsty squirrel.

Ha! I love the idea. Thought I'd bring out the whole gang for this one though.

I'll stick this one under a cut for uhh... some lighthearted gore.

The tiny paladin stalked around the campfire, having worked herself up into a righteous fury. Short of 5 feet, she made up for her stature with sheer vigor.

"We'll tear out his tongue. Then we'll tie him up. Throw him somewhere with just his feet out in the sun, and wait for it to slowly burn and consume him, from the bottom up, inch by inch," she ranted.

Wyll grimaced and lowered his spoon back down into his bowl, before it reached his mouth, just as Astarion let out a delighted laugh.

"Simply wonderful, my dear! Are there any other miseries you'd like to bestow on him, before his eventual demise?"

"Hmm," Tav paused, briefly. "Lae'zel, are there any good githyanki torture methods you would suggest?"

"I am not aware of anything specific to vampires," Lae'zel mulled over Tav's question. "But the regular routines should work on an incapacitated vampire just as well. His natural regeneration will only aid in making it last longer."

"Would that really work?" Shadowheart asked Gale in between sips of her wine. "Leaving a partial shield over a vampire and spot-burning him?"

"That is an excellent question," said Gale. "In theory, it depends on whether it is the literal energy of and exposure to the sun that causes the damage, or the more ambivalent idea of what the sun represents - goodness, righteousness, divinity - which may only need to touch a small part of an evil entity such as a vampire, to set the entire creature ablaze. I don't know the answer, but I could write to some of my colleagues, who have 'shed light' onto vampires, so to speak. Come to think of it-"

"Are you going to eat that?" Karlach pointed at Wyll's untouched stew.

"You're welcome to it if you like, I've lost my appetite," he said, handing her the bowl.

"Once his legs are gone, we'll burn his arms off in the sun, one by one," Tav continued her laps around the fire.

"You are vengeance incarnate, darling," Astarion spurred her on.

"We could chop off the limbs once they got too burnt and crusty and lost feeling," Karlach offered, talking with her mouth full. "He can regenerate but not regrow, right?"

"A good technique when combined with flaying extremities, as well," Lae'zel nodded approvingly.

"Yes!" Tav exclaimed, shaking a small but mighty fist at the sky. "We'll carve him up! Like a turkey."

"Now, call me an old fashioned romantic," Wyll interrupted. "But can't we just kill him in a civilized manner and then piss on his grave like normal people..?"

"All in due course, my friend," said Tav, before turning to Astarion. "Do you think Cazador would find this experience more horrifying with or without his eyes?"

A warm, fuzzy feeling was threatening to overtake Astarion.

So this is what friendship is, he thought.

#asks #astarion #drabble #bg3 #silly #gore and torture #but it's done to Cazador so eh #oath of vengeance paladin

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jacks347 · 3 months

Text

(Is this stupid enough to be considered a crack fic?? Idk, we're going with it)

To say Hipswitch was surprised to see a woman sitting in his base next to Albus would be an overstatement.

Now, to say he was surprised to see said woman be so...dressed while sipping a cup of tea, that was accurate.

He'd never seen the demon bring back anyone who wore so many layers. Hell, now that he was really thinking about it, he hadn't really seen Albus bring back anyone at all. From the headscarf covering her hair to the skirt that brushed at her ankles and all the fabric and layerage of jewelry in-between, Hipswitch was getting warm just watching her.

The woman turned, smiling politely at him. She was rather pretty, warm brown skin with dark green eyes. Not necessarily someone he'd consider Albus’s type but everyone had their exceptions. "Hello there. You must be Hipswitch." Her voice was quiet and flowed like honey. She reminded Hipswitch of the ladies of the church in town, always speaking softly with inviting smiles. Definitely not Albus’s usual type. What, had he really gotten that bored?

"That I am. And who might you be?" Hipswitch took a seat across from the odd duo, eyes darting between the two in bewilderment. Albus huffed out a laugh, wrapping an arm around the woman's shoulders. "This is Faith. She a, ah, friend of mine." The woman, Faith, rolled her eyes with a small chuckle. "Mm, sure, friend. Let's go with that." She hummed as she took a sip of her tea.

Hipswitch nodded slowly, still going back and forth between them. It was very strange but he couldn't say he didn't appreciate the change. Hell, he welcomed it. Faith was polite, she was far more dressed than he expected, and she seemed very sweet. It almost brought a tear to Hipswitch's eye. "Well it's very nice to meet you. I've gotta say Albus, she's certainly a might better for you than the others from the whore house."

There was an audible beat of silence before it was broken by both a roar of laughter from Albus and a rather impressive spit take from Faith who was now coughing like mad as she tried to regain her composure while Albus was nearly doubled over in hysterics. Hipswitch was left rather confused, not exactly understanding why what he said had caused such a visceral reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

The statement only made Albus laugh harder as Faith finally recovered, her cheeks flaming red and her face a heavy mask of embarrassment before kicking Albus in the shin. "Stop laughing! I've never been so mortified in all my life." She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head before pulling herself back up. "How do I put this lightly..." Faith mumbled as Albus’s laughter finally petered off. "Oh Switchy, Faith is a sister paladin." He corrected, making Hipswitch raise an eyebrow in confusion. "A what?"

"A nun." Came a surprised voice, making Hipswitch jump as he turned to find the source of it. "Hey Doc, how long have you been standing there? Almost gave me a heart attack. And how do you know that?" The doctor leaned against the doorframe, staring at Hipswitch with a wide-eyed expression between shock and horror. "When Albus came on I decided to do some research on the medical practices of New Tennessee. Maybe there would be something there to help better treat Albus if I needed to. And well, most of the information was from or about the sister paladins. They're the main form of healthcare, they're essentially priestesses who learn medicine to take of the knight paladins. But they're known to treat anyone who comes to their temples." The realization slowly dawned on Hipswitch, his eyes widening as it did. No wonder she reminded him so much of the women of the church, she was one of them! Oh he fucked up. He fucked up bad.

"So, in case you missed it in that grand fucking speech, you just called a nun a hooker directly to her face." Albus clarified, though he really didn't need to. Faith sighed, the initial embarrassment fading into a kind of indignant rage. "Can I slap him?" Albus snorted a laugh, flashing a sly grin at Hipswitch. "Oo, watch out there Switchy. She's got a mean backhand and I'm almost willing to let her do it. You kind of deserve it." Hipswitch wished he could disappear. "I-I am so sorry ma'am! I would never think of implying you would be that kind of woman, I just assumed-" He spluttered an embarrassed apology, making Albus burst into another round of hysterical laughter as Faith cut him off with a shake of her head. "Don't apologize, I know you didn't mean it. You worked with what you knew, I can't blame you for that. Though I do still want to slap you. And you do kind of deserve it."

Faith got to her feet stiffly, fixing the layers of her outfit and narrowing her eyes at a still laughing Albus. "I think I've seen enough of Maya for one day. I've got to pick Kerano up from school." She leaned down to poke a finger into the warrior's chest. "Don't make me come back out here to check up on you. Had me worried sick for nothing." Albus’s laughter faded as he lightly smacked her hand away. "Gods, yes, I know. I won't, I promise." She nodded with a satisfied huff before turning to the doctor. "I'm glad I could help with your research, you know how to reach me if you have any more questions." "Of course! Thank you again, Sister. It's been very insightful having you here. I should go continue to look over those notes." He turned and headed back into his office as Faith turned to Hipswitch. "And you." Hipswitch gulped, expecting the worst. Maybe that slap Albus had warned him about. "Maybe actually talk to someone before assuming they're some kind of common hooker. I take my faith very seriously and even if I didn't, I'd be far outside of his price range." She smiled warmly before turning on her heel and heading for the door. "See you again boys!"

Albus’s head dropped back onto the couch with a snort. "Outside my price range, she's crazy." He muttered. Hipswitch quietly got up and moved closer to punch Albus in the chest, making the demon wheeze out a breath as his head snapped up to glare at him. "Fucking hell, what was that for?" "For not warning me! I made a damn fool of myself in front of a nun because of you!" "Well, she's not really a nun, she's a priestess." "Regardless! She's a woman of faith and I disrespected her in the worst way possible!" Albus waved his concerns off. "Ah don't sweat it. Give it a week, she'll be laughing over it. It was damn funny." "You're actually the worst, you know that?" "Oh I am well aware Switchy. You're not the first to notice." Hipswitch could only roll his eyes. Why did he have to care about this idiot so much? "Okay but tell me one thing." "Whatcha got Switchy?" "Have you actually slept with her?" "Would you be jealous if I said yes?" "Albus..." Albus chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Sorry Switchy, this is one time I don't kiss and tell. That's up to you to figure out." He confessed with a shrug. "Out of all the escapades you've rambled on about, this is the one you keep quiet about?" "Faith is different, okay? She...she deserves to not have her story told. So I won't." He defended. Hipswitch sighed in defeat, stepping back. "I'll never understand how your head works." "Good, I don't either. So looks like we'll both be confused."

(...idfk how to end this so this is what you get. Yes I made this entire thing because there is a non-zero chance that Hipswitch would assume Faith is a hooker the first time he met her and that was so damn funny to me)

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autisticlancemcclain · 10 months

Text

“You want us to what.”

Lance doesn’t give a flying fuck how angry he sounds. Potential diplomatic crises be damned. Hell, he wants to cause a crisis. Wants to raise some hell.

The dignitary sniffs derisively. “The beast is a dangerous pest, Blue Paladin.”

“Not the blue paladin,” Lance growls, because he isn’t, “and I am not murdering an animal in cold blood just because you can’t deal with it properly.”

“Lance,” Allura hisses, but he has no problem ignoring her.

“Can’t deal with it properly — do you hear your paladin!” the dignitary sputters, waving an angry hand in Lance’s direction.

Shiro closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before plastering on a tight smile and visibly trying to salvage the situation. Now, usually, Lance would hate to cause Shiro any stress at all, and would do whatever he could to reduce that stress.

This time, Lance is going to dig his heels in. He is not going to let a living being be needlessly exterminated. Lance isn’t anti-animal death, or anything — he has no problem with others eating meat, or using animal products. He thinks using animals as gifts and not letting any part of them go to waste is very wise, and he has a lot of respect for people who manage to do so successfully. Sport hunters, on the other hand, or people who kill without good reason? Therein lies his problem, and he’s beyond happy to make a big stink of it.

“Could you describe the beast?” Shiro asks.

“Happily,” the dignitary grumps. “I’m eager to describe its horror to you, Oh Great Leader of Voltron.”

Shiro visibly tries very hard not to roll his eyes. Lance refuses to take any joy in the reaction, even though he would usually laugh.

“The beast is as large as half our royal castle. Its teeth are larger than our tallest soldier, and sharper than a luxite blade. Its fur is rough and coarse, enough to sand the paint clean off the walls it brushes by. Its roar shakes the very foundations of our city. It walks on four legs but stands on two, right before it rears up to smash our buildings to dust. It is a menace, a pest, and a danger besides!”

“So you have a grizzly bear problem,” Lance snaps. “Close your garbage cans at night and quit complaining.”

“Lance, please,” Hunk mutters, but Lance will not back down. Not when a life is at stake.

“Has it actually…hurt anyone?” Keith asks.

Lance shoots a grateful look at Keith.

At least someone is on his side.

“Yes!” the dignitary cries.

Keith shoots a look back at Lance — a well, I tried if Lance has ever seen one — but that is not good enough. Lance glares at him.

Traitor.

“Explain,” Lance demands.

The dignitary frowns, looking down his nose at Lance and shaking their head. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Would you mind explaining,” Pidge deadpans, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

Lance knows Pidge well enough to know that she’s not on his side, exactly — she threw a bolt at him when he started insulting the dignitary initially — but there’s nothing that pisses her off more than someone talking down to her family. Even if she doesn’t agree with said family. She’s loyal, like that.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely,” the dignitary says, cutting a look to Lance, who makes a very crude gesture with his hands in response and ignores the four (4) tired sighs from assorted teammates and co around him.

“The beast easily and ruthlessly took down several of our soldiers as soon as they opened fire on it. And it further still injured many of our knights when we sent them to its cave! It is a mindless, killing machine, and must be exterminated immediately.”

Lance throws his hands up in exasperation. “No shit it’s defending itself! What do you expect it to do, stand there while you shoot at it?”

“If it didn’t want to be shot it shouldn’t have ventured into the city in the first place!”

“It’s an animal! How the hell is it supposed to understand city limits and boundaries?”

“That’s not my problem,” the dignitary says coldly. “It has posed a threat to our people, and so it must die. And if Voltron wishes for our signature in the Coalition, you will come to our aid, or else you can count yourself down one planet’s alliance.”

Allura stiffens. “You would really risk your people’s protection over a difference in opinion?”

“Your blue paladin —”

“I am not the blue paladin, you brainless amoeba —”

“Your blue paladin,” the dignitary repeats, pointedly and icily, “has insulted us greatly. The situation is no longer up for debate. If you wish to sign an alliance, the paladin must handle the problem himself. That is our final stipulation.”

With that, the dignitary ends the call, cutting off Shiro’s pleas for him to wait.

All eyes turn to Lance.

“I am not killing an innocent animal,” Lance snaps. “Forget it.”

Keith sighs. “Lance —”

“No.” Lance clenches his fists, glaring at his team, chin raised and shoulders set. Beside him, Mr. Snuggles spreads his fangs and hisses. The mice — currently resting on his head — scramble to their feet, presumably also tensing up. Ivy — a venomous vine he picked up on a planet a few missions back — winds up his arms. “I am not just being ridiculous. You heard that idiot. They’re provoking it. It’s not doing anything wrong.”

“Lance —” Keith tries again, but Lance is not willing to hear it.

“I will not take an innocent life to buy an alliance. And if you do, I swear to God, I will never forgive you.”

With that he stomps out of the bridge, ignoring the dozens of calls of his name and pleas to “wait a goddamn second, Lance, c’mon.”

Lance stomps all the way to his room, muttering about stupid careless dignitaries and team members who won’t listen to him and how everyone is going to make him grey early and he is not Shiro, lord above, so he can’t pull that garbage off. Ugh.

He slams his door behind him and flops on the bed, and is marginally surprised to find his tears stinging his eyes.

“This is a stupid reason to cry,” he announces to no one, voice muffled in his pillow. “Why must I cry about stupid things. Why can’t I cry about regular things. This is dumb.”

There’s a clicking sound accompanying a gentle bump to the leg hanging off his bed. He drags his head off the pillow, sniffling, to see Mr. Snuggles sitting to the side of his bed, fangs clicking. The mice sit on his head, as they are wont to do (which, understandably considering the natural predator of mice, used to scare the shit out of Allura. But Mr. Snuggles has never been anything but gentle with them, even when they roughhouse on his back or play tag under his leg and accidentally trip him. He seems to be quite protective of them, actually. It’s very sweet. Lance thinks it might be a microhylid frog-giant tarantula situation, even though Mr. Snuggles can’t lay eggs, and it amuses him greatly). Ivy uncoils from his bed frame, wrapping a vine around his ankle and tugging carefully. Blue and Red both loudly mother him in the back of his mind.

It’s nice.

Lance sighs, wiping his tears and sitting up against his headboard.

“This sucks,” he says to his assortment of companions, all who seem to agree with him. Mr. Snuggles and the mice crawl up the leg of the bed to sit in front of him, and Ivy makes her way around his shoulders.

None of them can talk to him, obviously — how fucking cool would that be, though — but each one of them is an excellent listener (even the mice, who like to gossip, but Lance preemptively forgives them).

“It’s just —” Lance huffs, frustrated. “I get that the planet is probably tired of being lightly terrorized by a giant beast, sure, but is murder really the answer? Plus, have they even tried talking to it? Maybe it’s very reasonable! I’m sure I —”

Lance shoots up, startling poor Ivy, but holy shit.

Holy shit!

“That’s it!” he shouts, grin nearly splitting his face in two. He leans over, just barely managing to grab his holopad, and starts sketching out the plans.

“Now if I just — and it shouldn’t be too hard — I’ve done more in less time — hell yeah!”

He’s startled out of his fervour by urgent squeaks, and when he looks up, he sees the mice waving to get his attention.

“Yes?”

At his acknowledgement, they scurry into formation, laying together to make a question mark with their little bodies.

Lance snorts. He may not be able to speak their language, but they have no problems making themselves clear.

“I can’t tell you,” he scolds, “you’re going to snitch to Allura.”

They mice squeak sadly, but Lance knows better. Last time he gave in to them, Allura knew within the minute.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t wait up for me. Platt, Chulatt, Plachu, Chuchule — there’s some of that fancy grain you like in the cupboard. Mr. Snuggles — here.” He opens up space youtube, quickly opening up a horror movie reaction compilation for the fear demon. “That’ll keep you fed for a bit.” He props the holopad up on his pillow, scrambling to his feet and heading to the door. On the way out, he pulls the string on his special blue sun lamp — “That’s for you, Ivy!” — and then he’s out the door, plans in hand, to find Coran.

Luckily for Lance, he runs straight into him.

“Lance, dear, I was just coming to look for you,” Coran says, right outside his door.

Lance grins. “I can see that.”

Coran narrows his eyes. “You’re… remarkably chipper, Number Four.”

“Mhm.”

He holds up a hand for Coran to pause. He strains his ears, and smirks as he just barely picks up on the sound of near-silent footsteps behind a closed door. He makes pointed eye contact with the advisor, then inclines his head at Keith’s door.

Coran gets the point.

“Well, if you’re really feeling so much better,” Coran says loudly — too loudly, but Lance doesn’t have much in the subtlety department either, so he can’t complain — “would you mind helping me recalibrate the fabricator?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, dragging the advisor by the hand in the opposite direction of the fabricator.

“Will you speak plainly, now?” Coran asks, once they’ve put some distance between them and Keith’s eavesdropping ass. (That is, however, probably an unfair reaction. Keith was likely listening in to try and find a way to help, in his own awkward way. If Lance wasn’t currently feeling just a smidge betrayed, he would feel touched.)

“Okay, so. I have a Plan.” Lance puts emphasis on the word so Coran knows it’s Capitalized, because this isn’t just a regular plan. This is a rescue mission. It’s espionage. A heist, even.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!”

Coran sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“Lance,” he says warningly, but Lance won’t hear it.

“C’mon, Coran! You trust me, right?”

“That is a manipulative question —”

“You trust me! You said so yourself!”

“Fine, child. Yes, I trust you.”

Lance claps his hands together. “Excellent! So. I refuse to be a murderer, as you may have heard.”

“That would have been very hard for me to miss,” Coran says drily.

Lance gracefully ignores the comment. “And since I will also go apeshit if anyone else becomes a murderer, I have come up with a plan!”

“Lance. Number Four. My dear. Time is not our current luxury. Please share your plan.”

“Right. Okay.” Lance rocks back on his heels, shooting Coran a guileless smile. “How well do you think you can imitate my mannerisms?”

———

part two

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hexed-padlock · 8 months

Text

“A New Type of Vampire”

AU/Headcanon where Tav was part of the party that killed Strahd.

Pairing: Hinted Astarion x Tav but mostly gen. Party & Tav

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks

Notes: A few people are mentioned, old party members of Tav: Alfvin (human wizard), Rägen (human rogue), and an unnamed Paladin.

Summary: After defeating the Orthon, Raphael upholds his end of the deal and reveals the information behind Astarion’s scars. The tale that’s unraveled reminds Tav of the mists.

————————

Yurgir put up much more of a fight than expected. Even with Karlach’s warnings, they had still been caught off guard with the Orthon’s fondness for explosives. One moment, Tav was clearing out a group of merregons, and the next they suddenly found themselves flung off an overhang with a defeaning boom. Shadowheart had to patch them up with a hasty Healing Word but couldn’t do much more as she was preoccupied with several more merregon.

Now, hours later, they were hurt and still so very sore from the whole ordeal. Shadowheart took the second most hits, while Gale was mildly scuffed up. Astarion, the bastard, somehow avoided getting hit until the end when an unexpected explosion sent him flying straight into the growling displacer beast. Needless to say, they were all happy to have that fight over with.

Tav sighed and dropped onto their bedroll with a low thud. Huntress, they’ve just about had it with fiends.

As if to spite them, the scent of sulfur began to waft through the old, stuffy air of Shar’s Gauntlet. Tav barely had a moment to clamber to their feet before a low orange glow signaled the arrival of Raphael. The rest of the party grabs their weapons as the cambion appears in a flash of brimstone and fire.

“Splendid! I should thank you for making quick work of Yurgir.” The devil was all smiles, fanged and hungry. He briefly mentioned his plans of re-educating Yurgir, which had Tav almost concerned for a moment, before swiftly turning to Astarion.

Raphael actually upholds his end of the deal and Astarion listens with rapt attention as the devil unveils what he learned. A contract, a ritual—between the Archdevil Mephistopheles and the vampire lord Cazador Szarr. Through this rite, Cazador would gain untold power and become a new type of vampire—The Vampire Ascendant. An evolution of sorts that will allow Cazador to gain untold levels of power, backed by an Archdevil of the Hells.

A dark power, a deal, and an all-powerful vampire lord, Raphael summarized.

Tav feels their hands go numb as a low ringing fills their ears. A pit forms in their stomach as a familiar fanged smile flashes through their mind.

The cambion continues speaking, Astarion giving him his full attention. Tav finds their eyes drifting over to Astarion’s and- Oh, gods. A familiar dread slowly crawl ls up their spine, the ringing growing ever louder, as Astarion’s eyes fill with fear… and hunger. Cold grips their insides and a soft caress of a familiar fog wraps around their limbs, clouds their eyes.

In an instant, Tav feels the mists around them- they wander aimlessly but there’s no way out. It’s blinding, disorienting—suffocating. A thick fog spans out in every direction, blanketing the Valley in an eternal gloom. They hear the distant howls of wolves, the eerie childish laughter, and the whispers. He was always watching, Tav knew. No matter where they went, it was never safe. It felt like a nightmare, and maybe it was—for what reality would allow such terror to exist alongside the living? All those souls lost in the pursuit of a monster’s hunger for power. Van Richten, Esmeralda-

Scenes flash through the mists, feeling all too real.

They hear The Huntress calling for them. They feel the Blood Spear echoing the land’s old magic, digging into Tav’s soul, empowering, hungering, thirsting-

They turn sharply in the mist and find a raven-haired human looking back at them, gripping onto a black dagger and clad in dark leathers. A friend. They were safe. Rägen. She was was as deaf as a rogue could be and as paranoid as a bat. Her heart was in the right place once you earn her trust. They’ve handled countless monsters together, having to rely on strangers, now family. Tav blinks and- They see her body, trapped within the amber- cold, cold, cold and alone-

“(Tav)?” … Alfvin? Alfvin. Their wizard, a brilliant arcane scholar and diabolist. A sharp mind and a trusted ally. Sharp brown eyes and black veins along the sclera, a scar running over the bridge of his nose, the familiar smell of sulfur and ash- His body hung from the gallows, the mists caressing a limp cat at his feet.

Raphael vanishes in another swirl of hellfire, descending once more into Avernus.

“Well, that was definitely something.”

Astarion’s lips feel dry as he processes the information Raphael provided. The Rite of Profane Ascension. A ritual that guarantees his death, but also untold potential. Power, freedom. He could keep himself safe, could keep Tav safe.

He expects some wry comment from Tav, but silence is all that greets him. He expected a quip or two about Raphael, maybe a seething comment about the ritual and infernal contracts- not silence.

He turns and finds the party all staring at a very much catatonic Tav. Their eyes are wide and empty, distant. They see something not there and their body shakes with subtle tremors as the air swiftly begins to cool. He flinches because it doesn’t make sense. Tav is bright and shining, someone laughs at danger and taunts fate itself. But this Tav was silent, staring but not seeing.

Astarion wants to reach out, to comfort, but the look on Tav’s face has him glued to the ground. A fear, horror, but of what?

It doesn’t take long for someone to approach Tav. Gale, sweet Gale, calls to Tav and shakes their shoulder.

—————

Someone shakes their shoulder and Tav flinches back, the tadpole responding and lashing out, overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of memories.

Flashes of manic, chanting voices calling out. “He is the ancient, he is the land.”

A land cloaked in an eternal mist

trapped. trapped- no way out.

empty husks of people walking the streets

ravens crying out in warning

a flash- Blood red eyes, long raven hair

flames eating at a burning windmill. Ye Old Bonegrinder.

the stench of death and a lich’s grin

shadowed entities glinting within the amber that traps them

and a single man, sitting atop a throne, fangs glinting in the candlelight of Castle Ravenloft.

———

The party is flooded with flashes of memories- vivid, horrifying memories. A single name echoes above it all. Strahd.

The tadpoles grip onto the name and a final memory flashes. Strahd, astride his nightmare, plunges a black longsword through their- Tav’s- back. It’s a pain unlike any other. Shadows overwhelm them, darkness taking and taking. The Blood Spear’s tries desperately to stave off the dread plane’s magic as it takes and takes and takes.

A blinding light fills the room and Tav glances back to see a blade of radiant light pierced through Strahd’s middle. Behind him, their bloodied paladin, a Banite sent to conquer but one who’d chosen to instead save, smiles weakly.

Tav whispers, a voice unfamiliar to the party but still overwhelmingly Tav’s, “We’re free.”

They’re wretched from the visions as Tav seizes on the ground, clutching their middle the same way they had in the vision- the memory.

They blink up at the others, eyes wide, as they weakly mutter, “I can explain.”

“What in the Hells was that?!” Astarion screeches. He feels the horrible, pained cries. Sees the horror wrought by a single vampire’s will. Thousands of people, of souls, trapped in a demi-plane because of a single man’s selfish wish. He could practically taste Tav’s own fear, constant, all-consuming, as Strahd played with his new toys. Monsters clawed from the shadows as the dark gods laughed.

The whole party is shaken from the whispers in their heads.

Gale weakly pipes up. “I believe we saw some… interesting memories.” Definitely interesting. Dark magic unlike anything he’s ever seen should count as interesting.

Lae’zel hisses back, “Obviously.”

Shadowheart is silent as the memory quickly passes, echoes of a familiar shadow magic fading as the images vanish.

Wyll shudders as, for a moment, his limbs are frozen. He’s the Blade of Frontiers. He’s slain devils and monsters alike, but the power of a dread lord in his own plane was nothing like he’s experienced.

Karlach surges forward to hug Tav and moves to grab the rest of the party. There’s complaints and a lot of squirming, but they all settle into the hug.

Tav, suddenly surrounded by warmth, sobs. They’re safe.

They’ll explain another time, Tav thinks as they relax into the warmth of their party.

They all understood pain, they all shared their stories, and Tav supported them all with no judgement. They’ll wait. For now, it was time to return the favor.

(Bonus:

(Astarion very pointedly tries not to stare as the memory of sweet, darling Tav killing Strahd fills his mind. Seems like the gods finally answered his prayers.

The slayer of Strahd himself, now fighting to protect him and the rest of Faerün. His heart races at the thought and yep he’s definitely in love now.)

————————-

Hello! Sorry for taking a while to post the next reveal fic. I’m not sure how I feel about this one but it’s a scenario I had drafted up already. I tried my best bur writing really isn’t my strong suit lol.

Next fic is gonna be a lot sillier.

If anyone has some reveal ideas or prompts they have, feel free to reach out!

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@writingmysanity @furblrwurblr

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