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thatchickwiththecamera · 8 months

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What Do You Want From Me?

Synopsis: The European leg of the Concrete Forever tour marks one year since Tyler Garrett joined the Bad Omens media team. A lot can change over the course of a year. New experiences, new friendships, and new discoveries emerge.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x OC

Cross-posted on AO3 (thatchickwiththecamera)

MASTERLIST

Based on an idea I got from seeing this video.

Tag List: @sundamariis, @fastjelly-fish, @lilylovesdew, @narcissisticbehavior81

Tonight was night five of the European leg of the 2024 Concrete Forever tour and the end of January had marked one year since I had first joined the Bad Omens media crew. With the band's increase in popularity Bryan, the band's photographer and media director, decided it was time to expand the team going into Shiprocked so he could focus more carefully on planning and curating the media content produced and published for the band.

So Bryan reached out to a friend in the music industry and asked if they knew of any photographers/videographers with a solid portfolio who were looking for a more permanent media production gig. That friend connected him to me and as they say, the rest is history.

“Tyler! Did you finish up the edits for tonight's social post?” Bryan’s voice carried from the front of the crew bus to the back lounge where I sat backing up files to my external harddrive.

“Yeah! They’re already in the dropbox!” I responded before ejecting my drive from my macbook and throwing them both back onto my bunk.

I clipped my crew credentials with “CONCRETE FOREVER TOUR” and “TYLER GARRETT - MEDIA CREW” printed across the top and bottom through the belt loop of my jeans and slipped on my crew sweatshirt before walking toward the front of the bus. Bryan and Alana were standing over the main table and counter area double checking the batteries and the assortment of cameras we would be mounting in various parts of the stage for tonight's show along with our individual gear that would be on our person and laid out backstage for us to use throughout the show.

The air once we stepped into the venue was buzzing with energy. I don’t know what it was about this leg of the tour, but it was like a switch was flipped. Ever since the first date in January opening for Bring Me The Horizon back in Cardiff there was this high that enveloped the entire group and it looked like no one would be coming down anytime soon.

This energy was especially present in the band's lead singer, Noah. The usually stoic and serious persona he portrayed on stage was now replaced with one that roamed around the various levels of the stage doing jumping jacks, pushups, dances, and little vocal trills.

After the first two shows, his antics even caused Poppy, our opener for this part of the tour, to completely abandon portraying her A.I. character like was originally planned for their performances of V.A.N. Instead, she joined in Noah’s antics and even introduced the world to this little handshake that they had originally created during rehearsals leading up to the tour.

Life in between gigs had been lively as well since the start of the new year. After each show when everything was packed up and the load outs were completed, the band and crew for both Bad Omens and BMTH would venture to one of the local pubs and celebrate with a few beers and carbonated beverages before loading up on the buses and venturing off to the next city.

Until joining the Bad Omens crew, I would usually keep to myself in between shows while touring - choosing to prioritize edits, catalog files, and update my individual socials when not trying to finish a book on my Kindle or finish a show on a random streaming service.

The first few months of touring after Shiprocked changed all of that and a few of the crew and band made it their mission to pull me out of the confines of my comfort zone and my regular routine. Over the course of the past year, Bryan has pushed me to learn and develop my photo and video skills far past where I ever thought they would go. Matt started teaching me front of the house controls, he now hounds me with daily racoon memes, and I in turn buy him random Dr. Pepper merch. Steven taught me all about the finer side of wristwatches, NBA basketball, and the intricacies of running merch. Alana quickly became one of my best friends and has balanced her assistant tour manager duties well alongside keeping me sane as the only other female member of the media team and crew.

Folio decided that I absolutely had to learn how to fish when one of our venues had a lake nearby, even making me kiss the smallmouth bass that I caught before he threw it back in citing that it was tradition with your first fish. He also dared me to smoke my first joint, which caused me to hack up a lung because I somehow inhaled wrong. Nicholas helped me design a few tattoo ideas before inking my forearm and starting what will eventually become a full sleeve up my right arm. Jolly taught me a bunch of guitar riffs and how to cuss in Swedish (which I do entirely too often now), and Noah surprised me with the hidden talent of being a pool shark and we ended up becoming quick friends to the point where he is now my partner in crime hustling people out of their money when the crew goes out to bars. I also learned that while he hates it when people try to scare and prank him, he loves to scare and prank others.

Which is why, as expected, throughout three out of the first four shows of the European leg, Noah made it his mission to try and scare me at least once per show mainly during the song transitions when I would try to quickly get from one side of the stage to the next during the blackouts. In Berlin, it was during the transition after “Nowhere to Go” when I was coming down from the second level of the stage after retrieving the camera that was filming Folio play. Luckily I had handed the camera and its tripod down to Alana behind the platform before descending the steps in time for Noah to jump out at the bottom already wearing his ski mask for V.A.N.

I jumped, skipping a step on the way down, and felt a set of arms grab me and hold me back up before I could fall too far forward. I remember yelling ‘fucking hell’ in swedish and looking up to see Noah with a shit eating grin peaking through the mask and hearing Jolly laugh at my use of the words. I grabbed his mask and yanked on it so it was crooked on his face before I ran behind the platform to the other side of the stage where I had left my camera gear. I heard him let out a laugh and a few cuss words of his own as he struggled to fix the mask and climb the steps up to his spot on the platform before Poppy started singing.

Night one in Cologne, I was mainly in the photo pit for the majority of the show, while Bryan and Alana were the ones roaming the stage. I kept a gear bag tucked behind one of the few big boxes we had on either side of the stage. In it, I had my spare batteries, my water bottle, and the 360 camera on an extension pole. The plan for this show was to focus on crowd shots and footage along with regular low-angle stage shots. While I got amazing shots of the guys performing and some hilarious shots of a fan crowd surfing in an inflatable shark suit. Noah lost any possible opportunity offered for pranking during the show.

On night two in Cologne, he made up for the missed opportunity. During the transition between “Artifical Suicide” and “Like A Villan,” I quickly ran to the media team roadcase set up behind the guitar stage case and tech area to get a quick drink of water and change out a lens. As I was kneeling down in front of the case and had just finished switching the lenses, I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. Luckily all the equipment was out of my hands because the sudden motion made me jump and fall back on my heels, causing me to bump into something, well someone, behind me. I let out a string of curse words, this time in English, and tilted my head back to see Noah, now without his mask, trying to hold back a laugh as he smiled down at me. I let out an annoyed sign and rolled my eyes. He gave my shoulder a squeeze before disappearing back out onto the stage right as the song began.

In Munich, he chose the “Miracle” break as his time to strike. Only this time he stepped up his game. While I was switching out gear and changing my settings from photo to video, I set everything on a storage case under the second level platform and stood up to stretch a bit since this break was the more lengthy of the two. After I finished trying rid my shoulders of the tension that had built up from holding a camera in front of my face for a hour, I felt an arm wrap across the front of my collarbones and pulled me back into them while the person's other hand took one of the band's athletic water bottles and sprayed it down the rear collar of my crew hoodie. I squirmed and let out a loud gasp as the shock of the icey cold water briefly hit the back of my neck before I managed to wriggle away. I turned and as expected was greeted by a sweaty Noah smiling down at me trying to hold back laughter.

“You little shit!” I shouted before quickly grabbing the water bottle from his hand and pointed it at him spraying him with the same icy cold water.

He started swatting at the spray, laughing as his long thin fingers did nothing to block the liquid. He reached out and grabbed my wrist and I quickly tried to switch the bottle to my other hand but he was too quick, capturing that wrist as well before I could aim the bottle at his face again. I laughed and tried to pull away but he pulled me toward him and pinned my wrists against his chest trying to render the “weapon” he introduced inoperable.

The laughter between us suddenly died off. The height difference between my 5’1” and his 6’3'' became very clear and his chin practically touched his chest as he gazed down at me. We stood there for what felt like an eternity, brown eyes connected with blue. He loosened his grip on my wrists slightly but neither of us made any attempt to move.

The arena suddenly felt very warm and I don’t think I could blame it on the array pyrotechnics used during the show. I don’t know what to call this sudden shift in the air between us, but all I know is it caused something to flutter in my stomach and that scared the hell out of me. So I did the first thing I could think of, I diffused an intense moment with humor. I squeezed the water bottle that was still in my hand and the last remnants of water from the bottle hit Noah’s chin and neck. The shock of the cold liquid caused him to step back and release my wrists. I immediately missed the contact, but I needed to get away from this situation.

“Shit that really is cold!” He laughed, turning to grab one of the black towels we had on hand backstage and started to dry off the water.

When he turned to offer me the towel I had already retrieved my camera and fled to the other side of the stage wondering what the fuck had just happened.

During the day off between Munich and Zurich, I kept myself busy editing, organizing, and uploading photo content to the media team drive and to my own socials. I had gained a considerable amount of followers since joining the Bad Omens team and while I enjoyed seeing the reaction and appreciation the guys' fans had when I posted new content, I was also starting to see some of the reasons why the guys like to take social media breaks as often as they do.

Editing was one of my favorite parts of being a photographer and with us starting this European leg off with four back-to-back shows, I hadn’t had time to pause and really work my magic. So that is what I designated as my mission for this day off. I also may have used it as an excuse to avoid leaving the crew bus and chance any more contact with Noah. I was still trying to figure out if that flutter in my stomach was real or if it was just part of the adrenaline from a high energy concert and my body being attacked with ice cold water.

Tonight, we were in Zurich and I was running around the stage at various times throughout the set while Bryan was down in the photo pit trying out some new ideas he had photos wise and finally having his turn with the 360 camera during a show.

During “What do you want from me?” I was standing in the wings to stage left filming Noah when he suddenly walked over to me in the middle of the second verse, grabbed my left wrist from where it held the side of my camera and pulled me out onto the stage. I keep filming as he releases my wrist and quickly slips his hand in mine while he continues to walk backward onto the stage. Once we were in the middle of the stage he started to spin in a circle with our connected hands extended in the middle. We spun around a few times before he started to jump while we were spinning causing his hair to bounce up and down on his head which I shakily captured on camera. The randomness of it all led to fits of laughter and caused Noah to mess up the last two lines of the verse.

As the verse came to an end I expected him to let go and yell, “JUMP JUMP” like he usually does during the brief blackout. Instead, as the light goes out, I am yanked forward and feel a hand and the cool metal of a microphone against the side of my face, and a set of lips briefly collide with mine. I barely had time to process what happened before it ended, the lips were gone, the lights came back up, and Noah jumped onto the riser at the front of the stage to sing the rest of the song. I still held my camera up and panned to follow him trying to hide any reaction my face might show behind a veil of concentration.

For the remainder of the show, I tried to avoid making any and all eye contact with Noah, who in turn tried his damndest to get me to look at him and gauge my reaction to what he did. He did it in a way that wasn’t too noticeable to the crowd by acting like he's playing up to the camera. My brain tried to process what had happened and what the hell it possibly meant over the course of the remaining ten songs in the set.

Noah kissed me.

On stage.

In the middle of a show.

Did one of the guys see?

Oh Shit! Did anyone in the audience see?

The usual jump scare from the previous shows never came and my self-sabotaging brain was trying to solve the question of what everything meant. Kissing me to see my reaction instead of scaring me like usual? Was this real or was it just another prank?

Author’s Note: Let me know what y’all think!

#bad omens cult #bad omens #badomens #badomenscult #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens x reader #bad omens x oc #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #joakim jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #author: thatchickwiththecamera

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lizaaardstuff · 3 months

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Hellebores (shattered)

Hey guys, I’ve decided to try something a little new. This is a fic I’ve been working on for the last month now, and I wanted to share a small snippet of the beginning with you guys since it’ll be a bit longer before I’m able to post it on ao3.

This is a Donnie centric story that will take place after the invasion (like my other fanfic), but the beginning kicks off during the end battle.

⚠️Trigger warning for this fic will include: Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury, Paralysis, Internalized Ablism, PTSD, Medical Stuff; you know, the works.

Please let me know your thoughts once you’ve read this, I’d love to hear them <3

Word count: 1,845

———

Being apart of the Technodrome was... incredible. Being so wholly welcomed into such vast knowledge and power was thrilling- world changing. He was everything. He was everywhere. Nothing was out of his reach. He could feel the space in his head expand, his senses heightened to new levels, and as long as he ignored the pain in his shell and the prickling in his limbs and the pressure in his head, he would describe this as the best experience of his life. Truly, nothing could ever compare.

And then he was ripped out.

Violently.

Without any care to what it would do to him.

And suddenly the greatest experience of his life had turned into a living nightmare. He had never felt pain like this before, and not a second too soon, he blacks out.

———

"...nie!"

"Donnie, wake up!"

Donnie's eyes blearily crack open, dizzying colors invade his senses, and he fights the urge to close them again. He can hear himself wheezing, struggling to take in a full breath. He feels his head dipping down towards his chest, and he realizes he's being held up. Blinking to try to clear the haze from his vision, he looks around to his brothers, who are all being held up by the same gooey Krang matter. Donnie almost does a double take when he sees Raph, with the Krang's influence gone, but he doesn't even get a second to revel in this new development, because Leo and Mikey are suddenly yelling for him again.

"Donnie, c'mon, you have to fight it!" Leo shouts from across the room. A flash of blue lights up the room, and Donnie can feel the electricity of his brothers ninpō light up in his chest. And now that he's focusing on it, he can feel Raph's ninpō there too, strong and steady. Feeling that spark ignites something within his own kindling, and when Mikey's ninpō joins the mix, that's all the push Donnie needs before a beam of striking purple joins the cacophony.

There's yelling, but Donnie's ears are ringing, and everything sounds like it's happening behind a wall of cotton. He sees everyone's ninpō burning away the Krang matter that was holding them up, and he assumes the same was happening to him, but he could barely feel it.

Donnie drags in a breath, feeling like he was breathing through a straw, and uses all of his strength to lift up his right arm to pull at the Krang gunk that was pulling at his neck. If I could just get a moment to catch my breath...

And then the Krang matter is gone, and he's falling.

Donnie lands hard on his side, pain flaring through the upper part of his spine and echoing out across his chest, and the impact forces a weak cough out of him that takes away the little bit of air he had managed to gain in his lungs.

"Donnie!" he hears from above, but his eyes are slipping shut again, his energy spent.

There's a soft thud next to him, and a gentle hand on the side of his face. "Donnie, open your eyes man, please. C'mon, just open your eyes."

Leo.

Donnie slowly peels open his eyes again, despite how badly he wanted to just let them remain closed. Because Leo asked nicely.

Donnie drags in another breath.

Why is it still so hard to breathe?

"There you are," Leo sighs, a confusing mix of worry and relief painted on his face.

Donnie hears quick footsteps behind him and a soft gasp, "his shell," "oh Donnie," but when he tries to turn his head to see who's talking, Leo's hand that was still on his face presses down lightly to keep his head in place. "Don't move."

Donnie's head is starting to feel light from the lack of oxygen.

"Oh my god, Leo, what do we do." Mikey. That's Mikey. Donnie's fingers twitch against the ground as he tries once again to turn his head to see his baby brother, but Leo's hand remains firm.

"We have to move." Raph. His big brother is here too. Wait...

Donnie's already unsteady breathing halts, his eyes going wide. "Wait," he croaks out, all eyes turning back on him, "if you're all here... the Krang." Donnie's words slur, and his sentence ends in another wheezing breath.

The others share a confused look above him. Leo looks back down to meet Donnie's eyes, gently taking his hand with the one that wasn't securing the softshell's head. But Donnie could barely feel it. Everything felt so disconnected and muffled. Shock, maybe.

"Donnie," Leo says sharply, like he'd been calling his name a few times. Donnie drags his eyes back up to Leo, blinking through another round of haze. "Donnie, you're holding them off. Or, at least I'm assuming it's you. There's a big purple dome around us, and you're glowing, so..."

Huh?

"Leo," Raph says urgently from wherever he is. Donnie still can't see him or Mikey. If only I could just sit up... "We still need to get the Krang through that portal." There's hesitation in his voice, and Donnie wishes he could see his face.

"I know!" Leo snaps, voice trembling and eyes brimming with overwhelmed tears. It felt so unlike him. He'd only seen Leo make that face a few times in their lifetime, and most of what he could count were from the last 24 hours. Donnie focuses solely on flexing his fingers around Leo's hand, and Leo squeezes back automatically, looking back down at him but still talking to Raph. "I know, but- we can't move him like this."

"Leo, we can't stay here," Donnie hears Mikey say from somewhere above him.

Donnie watches as a tear rolls down Leo's cheek, catching the purple lighting of Donnie's ninpō. Then Leo squares his shoulders and his face hardens, eyes glancing up to meet the others above him, and Donnie knows that he's come to a decision.

"Raph, in a few minutes I'm going to need you to pick up Dee. As carefully as you possibly can. I'll portal you down to a safe spot. Donnie actually managed to get the ship pretty close to the portal before the Krang grabbed him and Mikey, so all Mikey and I have to do is push the big guy through. I need you to watch Dee, if you can find anything hard and flat to lay him on once you're down there, that would be best. Make sure he doesn't move." Good, Donnie thinks as he listens to his twin slip back into his leader voice, Leo's got this covered. Donnie can feel his eyes slipping shut again right as Leo's eyes shift back over to him. "Dee, look at me, I need you to focus."

Donnie would have rolled his eyes at the slider if he wasn't feeling so sluggish. Instead, he tries to hum to let him know he's listening, but it turned more into a weak groan.

"Before I have Raph pick you up, I'm going to do a quick check to see how you're doing. I need you to keep the shield up, okay? Can you do that for me? No, don't move your head, I got it," Leo adds quickly, pulling their hands apart to stop Donnie from nodding with both of his hands.

"Okay," Leo says, more to himself, as he finally lets go of Donnie's head, throwing a sharp glare in his direction with one more, "don't move," as he picks up Donnie's wrist to take his pulse.

He frowns, clearly not pleased with what he's feeling, but he moves on anyways, carefully shifting his head to lean against Donnie's chest. It was difficult since Donnie was on his side, and Leo seemed to take extra care in making sure not to jostle him. Leo's frown only deepens. This check up clearly wasn't going well. Damn, there goes my perfect test scores...

Then Leo goes to check his eyes, but without a pen light to use and the lighting around them being so dim, he gives up on that, moving to hold Donnie's hands instead.

"Squeeze my hands," Leo instructs.

Donnie has to dig through his energy reserve moving his fingers, and he notices that his right hand reacts before his left. Huh. But either way, he manages to give Leo's hands a weak, lopsided squeeze, which seemed to be good enough for now because Leo nods approvingly.

"Okay, now wiggle your toes for me." The slider sits up a bit straighter to look at the softshell's feet. Or, where Donnie assumes they must be, because he can't feel anything below his chest. Donnie's never been in shock before, and after this experience, he never wants to again. Though, that's a bit redundant. No one ever wants to go into shock, that would be masochistic. But Donnie definitely would rate this experience a zero out of ten, would not recommend-

"Donnie, focus," Leo says, placing a hand on Donnie's arm, bringing Donnie back to the present. "I need you to wiggle your toes." Was Donnie becoming delusional, or was there a hint of desperation in his brother's tone? Probably both.

So Donnie wiggles his toes like Leo has asked of him, if only to ease his brother's concern.

"Donnie, seriously, man. Move your toes so we can finish this up. I know you're feeling kinda out of it right now but-"

What? "I already did," Donnie mumbles out, immediately wishing he hadn't spoken when such a simple task leaves him breathless and dizzy.

"What? No, dude, you didn't. Try again." Leo's tone sharpens, eyes going wide, despite his casual wording.

Donnie furrows his smudged brows. "What're you talkin about?" Donnie tries to get an arm under him to push himself up, turning his head towards his legs, confused, but the second he tries to move, Leo's on top of him again.

"Stop! Stop moving," Leo shouts hurriedly. Donnie can feel the sharp sting of Leo's panic through their interlinked ninpō, and suddenly there's a shift in the air. Ignoring Leo's frantic pleads and shaking hands, Donnie tilts his head up slowly, painfully, and sees the large purple dome he had accidentally created to surround them shudder. A loud pounding followed by muffled rage filled roars could be heard just outside of the shield, as the Krang leader slams his fists into the structure, clearly becoming impatient.

When the Krang brings his fists down again, the structure glitches.

Donnie gasps, along with his brothers, and by pure instinct he pushes more energy into the shield. The world starts spinning and the corners of his vision go dim as he uses up the last of his reserves, and when Donnie blinks his eyes back open, his head is laying on the ground again. Leo's shouting something to someone, and there's a flash of bright, neon blue, and there's a large arm shifting under him. The last thing he sees is a burst of purple pixels as the dome shatters before his eyes slip shut.

———

Okay so I really have no idea how to format anything on this app, so if it’s hard to read, I’m so sorry 😭

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #rise donnie #rottmnt donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #rise fanfic #rise of the tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic #rise donnie fanfic #rottmnt Donnie fanfic #disaster twins #tw major injury #tw paralysis #tcest dni #hellebores

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pursuitseternal · 9 months

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“Possessing:” jealous, possessive Astarion in a double smut update for “Our Blood is Thicker,” featuring a first-time flashback 💞

Astarion x Cordehlia (F!OC) | E | 8.7 K possessive and first time smut

Summary: the Shadow-Cursed lands resurrect more for Cordehlia than an old enemy— more memories and griefs that Astarion can’t recall. If only there was some way to show Astarion their past… memories that kindle the same possessive desires of the past and new professions of… love in the present.

CW: angst, longing, jealousy, possessive Astarion, Kind Uncle Vibes Halsin, arrogant young Astarion, first time hand job, first time fingering, teenage sneaking for sex, inappropriate tadpole use if you squint, absolute feral rutting once the memory is done.

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 10: Possessing

🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

Astarion could feel the rage building in his love, shuddering with tension off their leader. They all could. Waves of scarlet temper fluctuating as the Drow inside Moonrise Towers insisted on talking despite Cordehlia’s death stare… insisting on talking with Astarion. This Araj… as she introduced herself with the overconfidence of youth and privilege.

Cordehlia hated her already for both. And more.

Her companions held their breath, watching for those quick and deadly fingers of hers to reach for that shining dagger. And they all wanted to close their eyes the moment they heard the Drow, some expert in blood magic and potions, slather her attentions on The Spawn who pressed at Cordehlia’s side. “I’ve always dreamed of being bitten…”

“Uh oh,” Wyll bemoaned under his breath, taking the opportunity to grab at the she-elf’s elbow and whisper in her pointed ear while the Drow was busy making all her intentions known to Astarion. “Have care, for as much as you would like to run the monster throgh, it would not make things easy for us. Unless you wish to face Ketheric from the inside of a cell…”

“Or dead,” Gale added in her other ear.

Cordehlia gave a single, unwilling nod, rolling her shoulders and crossing her arms. Just as the expert in all things sanguine returned her dark eyes on the rest of them. “Can’t you talk some sense into your charge?”

Cordehlia’s fiery eyebrows raised slowly at that. “My charge?” she spoke between pressed lips. A wave of rebuke held back barely by their need to remain inconspicuous. “My vampire is his own being, he can choose who he bites, who he fucks, whom he loves, who he kills…”

“I’m sure he truly believes that,” the Drow laughed. Disparaging.

“Want a demonstration?” Cordehlia added quickly, a single corner of her mouth turning towards a smile.

“It’s alright, darling,” Astarion turned to meet her stare, caught somewhere between aroused and intimidated himself as it turned to lock those narrowed, hungry, enraged eyes on him.

“Oh, oh I see,” Araj gave a disparaging laugh. “You think he’s yours. All yours. I promise, I’ll leave your lover’s lower regions untouched, I only want a bite. In exchange, I’ll give you a potion so great, you’ll never find another like it in the realms…”

“I’ll thank you to never mention my lower regions again,” Astarion hissed.

“And he said no to you,” Cordehlia snapped, closing one step between her enemy and her beloved. “You can keep clear of us, Drow, of me, my companions, and my vampire. What need do we have of watered down power like blood potions when we have the blessing of the Absolute. I wonder why they keep you here at all.”

That made everyone behind her stiffen, every set of eyes scanning for enemies. Just in case.

But Araj laughed. “Fine, linger in your ignorance with your lover. Savor it while your bodies still haven’t burst into a mess of tentacles. See how romantic your nights of coupling are then… True Soul…”

Three sets of hands pressed against Cordehlia’s back then, but only one pulled her into his arm, tugging her along and back into the halls of Moonrise Towers. “Gods,” Astarion scolded her gently right into her ear as they paused on the outer walls of the tower, “your jealousy nearly got us all killed.”

Was he… angry?

She snapped her neck, turning to scowl right into his face. But that raging expression melted the moment she looked into his. He was so soft, so adoring, head tilted slightly as those crimson eyes widened and brushed over her face.

Until they rested on her lips, pursed tightly.

“That pleases you?” she managed to rasp as her tempers cooled.

“To hear you might just risk bringing the whole army of the Absolute down on us because some other female is pining for me to take a bite?” he smirked wickedly, completely possessive and naughty as his eyes looked to her neck. “And they say romance is dead, darling…”

Just as his palm cupped her cheek, tilting her face so close to his, her warm breath filled his undead lungs and coated his tongue with her taste… Gale cleared his throat.

Loudly. Distracting. Intentionally.

“Need I remind everyone that we stand literally on the precipice of the Absolute’s power? That Ketheric Thorm and his army are literally everywhere…”

“And all you two want to do is fuck,” Karlach burst in with a laugh. “I mean, it’s not a bad plan, it’s just not a plan to take down our enemies, soldier.”

Cordehlia rolled her eyes, gripping the back of his neck in her gauntleted hands. Unable to deny herself just a quick kiss, even at the heart of their enemy’s domain. “Fine,” she sighed. “We find the secret to bringing down this… General, but if anyone comes to try to take any of you from me,” she tapped a finger on Astarion’s perfect, aquiline nose, “especially you… they will find it very hard to think with a dagger buried in their skull.”

“Again, such poetry, such romance,” her vampire purred, his arms struggling to release her. Not that he wanted to either.

They made their way back inside the Tower, and thoughts swirled in Cordehlia’s head, the haze of memories beginning to pierce through that constant blanket of lust Astarion seemed to draw about her at all times.

“Right,” she huffed under her breath. “Let’s go find this imposter who calls himself the General….”

“Imposter?” a deep voice rumbled quietly as Halsin turned around. “How do you mean?”

Cordehlia stopped, the others continuing a few paces ahead. “Ketheric is dead, weren’t you there? Did you not fight in vain glory for his defeat alongside Harpers and Druids and Elves? Did you not see the countless souls sacrificed to put that monster in a tomb?”

“I did,” his pale green eyes scanned her face with all the wisdom and insight three-hundred years lends. “You speak as one who knows of such things yourself, young one.”

Cordehlia’s mouth shut tight. Locking her lips in silence, keeping whatever it was that simmered behind her silver eyes within her.

“I may have joined your band to help break this curse that darkens the land, but make no mistake,” he paused before turning to follow, “I will help do whatever is necessary. But to do so, I need to know more than I can read on your own wizened face.”

She shrugged, pushing past the enormous Druid to rejoin the others. “In good time, perhaps…”

But her words dried up the second she stood on the edge of the gathering in the throne room.

He was there. In flesh. Ancient, grey, undead flesh.

Ketheric Thorm, half-elf, great general, and dead no longer.

Cordehlia heard nothing as she watched with frozen horror the scene before her unblinking eyes. An ax, launched from the hand of some goblin about to be punished for their failure, sliced right into the General’s armor. His great, gauntleted hand pulled it free, as if it were no more than a dull knife in butter.

Immortal. Just as they all had said… back from the dead…

And as she tried to steel over her face and steady her nerves, she forced more of those shadows from her past deep down inside her. They would have to be ignored. For now.

It wasn’t until they were back on the shadow-cursed trails, sent to find the mysterious relic that granted the immortal Ketheric Thorm his power, that Cordehlia finally felt her tenuous hold on reality and on her past begin to slip.

It was a century ago… a lifetime ago, a time when she wandered between losing the love of her life and falling under the spell of bloodlust the Bone Picker loved. Before she found herself totally alone. Not-quite widowed, but decidedly orphaned.

And now, her feet traced the same paths and vaulting roots from dying trees he must have…

Her father.

She kept herself busy, hurrying at the front of the group as they moved headlong into the dark and cursed forest.

“We really should make camp,” Shadowheart commented, “there are many dangers ahead, and we wouldn’t wait to face those exhausted.”

“A wise idea,” Halsin affirmed. “We can get a new start with the dawn… or,” he grinned a bit sheepishly, looking at the lands cursed to eternal darkness, “…if not dawn, at least when we are all rested.”

A few laughs sounded from the group as they headed for safer ground. But not Astarion. And not Cordehlia. She gave that smile that didn’t meet her eyes, holding her shoulders slumped down as if she carried that massive, invisible weight. He could almost feel it himself, just by looking at her. Slowly, he drew nearer, falling within earshot. Within arms reach, should she need him.

But she kept her attention on the Druid, locked in as they headed up the path. “Halsin…” she added, voice shaking just a bit, “you… fought to bring Ketheric down… the first time I mean?”

“Giving up your claim of being an imposter?” the Druid teased, instantly regretting the jovial tone as he saw the lines of her face. As he read her pain. “What troubles you?”

Cordehlia glanced beside her, face easing to find Astarion at her side. First in her heart. Always at her side. “These… ruined battlefields, where so many lives were lost, you’ve been here, Halsin. Tell me, did you fight beside the elven hosts?”

Halsin stopped short. That weight in her voice flooded with knowledge. He froze, nearly mid-step. “I thought you looked familiar…” he commented, almost to himself, eyes scanning the she-elf.

“Why?” Astarion interjected, curious if not a tad bit defensive at the familiarity.

“Of course, Star Elf, red hair that shock of brightness. A temper to defy the gods. You’re the daughter of General Aquilae, aren’t you? You’re just as ferocious in battle, just as passionate and hot-tempered.” The Druid tilted his head, starting to walk again. “I am… sorry for your loss. Sorry his sacrifice must feel like it's in vain with Ketheric back from the dead…”

“Don’t assume to know how I feel,” Cordehlia snapped, chin jutting up, barely meeting the large male’s chest-height. But fierce in demeanor. “Sorry,” she relinquished, that defiance instantly retreating back inside her carefully crafted shell.

“Quite alright. You’re in pain, grieving. But even grief heals, all things heal. Nature will heal, as hearts will too,” Halsin grinned gently, “but it takes time and… many ways of seeking solace…”

Astarion couldn’t fight the way his eyes tweaked in suspicion, hackles raising at the informality. As long as it was his tent that her solace was sought for…

“Aquilae…” Astarion let the name roll off his tongue. Something inside his mind thawing, something creeping into the light. “Is that… your name?”

What normally would have made a tender smile come to her full, pink lips made them scowl instead. “For once… for once, it would be a boon to have you either remember your past, or not ask such obvious questions.” She bit at every word. Her shoulders squared at him, armored and taught.

Those crimson eyes narrowed at her, his mouth hardened into a flat line. An exterior of equal adamant to resist her anger. And to hide his hurt.

“Well, darling,” he shook his head quickly, derisively. “I apologize for my shortcomings,” his gaze darted to the Druid who still lumbered beside her. “And I’ll leave you two to… reminisce correctly, then.” The vampire pushed his way between them, heading for the bustling group as they hurriedly and anxious made a small camp, setting magic wards and torches against the Shadows.

Cordehlia’s heart sank, her stomach knotted, making her want to puke right there and then on cursed grounds, watching him stride from her so quickly.

That exterior of injured pride, that mask of indifference hiding his own pain. Pain she caused. Pain flowed from her own.

Halsin cleared his throat softly. “He means a great deal to you, the Elf. The others gossip about your past constantly. Your Wizard, in particular, seems rather… put out that Astarion has meant so much to you,” the Druid sat himself down on a log, the wood creaking beneath his sheer mass.

But Cordehlia was too uncomfortable to do anything more than sway in place as her eyes darted between her Druid and the rest of her party. Not as if she were watching for every pissed-off dart of her silver-haired vampire in the mix.

“I… believe I know your history, or at least as much of it as the rest do…”

She scoffed, fingers beginning to unbuckle her armor methodically, absentmindedly. “More than he probably recalls,” she huffed under her breath. “If only… things were easier. Not just the tadpole and the Absolute… but with him.”

“Nature does not have regrets, young elf, only growth,” he smiled slightly, his scarred face turning with that wise happiness. “Besides, for as much as you resemble your father, the General…”

“He still seems like the pampered, arrogant, devastatingly handsome son of our High Lord and Lady?” she sniffed, suddenly feeling the warm pull of those years, however ancient they may be.

“I suspected as much. Your father only ever spoke to us briefly, to the point, not unlike his formidable daughter when she feels the need…”

That made Cordehlia grin softly once more.

“He had said once, on the eve of battle, he regretted risking his daughter to lose another… that you had already lost so much of your heart, an engagement to the next High Lord ending in tragedy.”

Halsin paused, turning to follow her own sharp, unerring gaze into the mess of companions. Watching as her eyes followed her lover through the crowd, her whole being growing heavier with grief each second that passed.

He let her breathe in silence a moment, waiting for her to speak. At last, something seemed to ease within her. “He was my everything, Halsin. My childhood playmate, my first kiss, my… first of many things…” Her voice was steady, aching with grief and joy mixed into one weighty tone. “He defied his parents to ask for my hand, well… his weakness for planning ahead worked that once, for as much… shame as it could have brought on us both. But I didn’t care. I had him.”

“The son of the High Lord and the daughter of the General must not have been such a match to frown upon,” Halsin sounded.. wistful. Cordehlia wasn’t sure. But she turned to look anyway. “At least now, for whatever darkness you both have endured, you share in one another’s burdens. But you can’t fault him for how he has… survived his pain by pushing down his memories. They will return, in time, as all things…”

“In nature heal,” Cordehlia finished with a laugh. “You’re rather predictable, Druid.”

“Three-hundred and fifty years, and you learn the value of consistency, young one,” he laughed, standing from the log. “Now, we better return before your vampire’s jealousy turns its hungry attention on me as a threat.”

Cordelia gathered the plates of her armor she had removed, walking them towards camp. And then she paused. Cursing.

Of course… as it had been of late, since that night in the Emerald Grove, all her things were in… his tent. Her stomach sank. She… wasn’t ready to face him yet. Wasn’t ready for his chilled anger or his glare of simmering rage, or his little frown of hurt.

But she swallowed her dread and headed towards that stretched structure of red and rose fabric.

It was already so dark, just the flickers of torchlight dancing to show her the way. Pausing, her hand hesitated before it pulled back the flap so she could enter. Cordehlia swallowed, why was she so nervous, he night not even be inside. Might be out hunting… or helping… or…

Before any other thought could make her hesitate longer, a pale hand shot out at her from within, wrapping its cold, undead touch around her wrist, and dragged her inside his darkened domain.

His tent was blacker than pitch. Even for her elf-eyes, it took her a moment to adjust her sights. But she could feel him around her, grabbing her from behind, hand around her chin, arm clutched around her waist, as he pulled her within.

“I didn’t think you’d come, darling…” his voice chilled her marrow, all the jealousy she had imagined inside him biting his words. “Thought you’d be too busy strolling down memory lane with someone who could walk with you…” his lips pushed against the edge of her ear, nipping it with his fangs, “just as you’ve always wanted…”

“You know what I want…” she murmured, arching against the confines of his body.

“Hmmm,” he taunted, and she could feel his breath trailing down her neck. “I thought I did… I’m surprised that you’re here, not indulging in some time with your warm-blooded companion who knows you… and most likely wants to… know you.” His mouth sucked on her ear, “carnally, to be clear.”

“Tch, tch,” she forced her body to twist in his hold, landing the point of her elbow in his gut to make his grip ease. Savoring the little grunted “oof” he made. “Don’t think so low of yourself, my love,” she breathed, scanning the way his face twitched between suspicion and arousal. “As if I could take anyone else, now that I have you back with me at last…”

She meant it, every word. Those eyes soft with sincerity, those lips already slightly puckered to invite him closer.

But he still had too much jealousy gripping his undead heart, too much ice flowing in his veins yet. “You’d rather have someone remember, I know, someone who knew your name, your father, someone who recognizes the family resemblance of your temper to match your hair… someone who can match the… intimacy you seek with your memories in the same way they might with your delicious body.” He pouted, those full lips of his frowning in taunting disapproval. “If only there was some way for us to share thoughts and memories, mind to mind…” he turned to give her the full power of his gaze then, and it made her lose her breath with his beauty, his intensity. That rakish cant of his brows and the haze of hunger in his eyes.

Her brows raised slowly, her smile spreading. “What are you suggesting, Astarion?”

He let his fangs show, his hands gripped into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Show me, show me everything. Use the parasite, link your mind to mine, for I’ll be damned if anyone…” he growled with a snap of his jaw, “anyone lays a claim to you more than me.”

“Why, Master Ancunìn,” she smirked, running the pads of her fingers down that sharp cut of his jaw, “jealousy does rather become you.”

He stiffened beneath his touch, the muscles of his jaw tweaking as he clenched.

“You’re… not just jealous, are you?”

His eyes cast to the side. Just enough hint of remorse, of regret and longing softened his face.

“I… can’t explain it,” he whispered, almost sounding frightened to let the words out. “All I have known for so long is to manipulate, to do as I was commanded, to use my body and bury my mind, my feelings so far down, I… forgot what it was to think or feel for myself.”

His hands began to wander, to stroke her smooth skin and taught muscles beneath her shirt.

“And then, I found you, or rather, you found me. You forced me to confront those parts of me I neglected in order to survive. You made me rediscover what it meant to want a person…to want anything for myself. Like how you almost tore the throat of that vile Drow today, just for assuming you could compel me to bite her fetid flesh.”

He breathed, that jealousy still crept close by, his fingers insistent on her flesh, even with all the vulnerability that flooded his voice.

“I… should say thank you, my darling, but I would rather show you my gratitude. Rather stand at your side as equals, knowing everything that makes you… you.”

“That makes us… us,” she added, a smile soft on her lips. Her hand held his, pulling him down along with her, sitting on the mess of his blankets and pillows he called a bed. Before he could even settle completely, she crawled in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, cradling his cheek in her palm. His eyes bore into hers, the intensity, the possessiveness, the curiosity burning bright in the deep red of his eyes. “What would you wish to see?” she asked softly.

“Show me your father, show me you… show me our first moments, our sweetest moments, our most sensual, our most painful,” he rasped, brows furrowed with his ardor. “I want to recall… everything…”

She paused for a breath, eyes closing as if she searched those memories. Finally, her silver eyes opened, her gaze was languid, distant, and desirous. “Open yourself to me,” she whispered so close to his own parted lips.

A single brow arched in humor, “That's my line, darling…”

Before she could tease him or roll her eyes, their minds smashed into one another, their tadpoles humming as the world around them instantly disappeared….

———

“What do you have to say for yourself, lordling?” General Aquilae stared at him with those piercing dark eyes. Sharp like the eagle, the bird of prey after which he was named. “Son of the High Lord, caught watching our daughter bathing, you know there will be repercussions even your parents can’t pull enough strings to free you from…” The warrior’s voice rumbled like thunder, towering over where the young elf male stood in his study.

But Astarion gave no ground, arms crossed over the pale green of his tunic, the golden threads of its intricate embroidery catching the firelight as night began to fall. His sharp features smiled slightly, his deep violet eyes dancing as he watched the warrior pacing back and forth, that silver shock of hair barely tamed, same as he was as a youth, barely more tamed than the willful elfing that ran about with his daughter.

And now… now they would be inseparable. They had to be.

“You know what you have done has sealed Cordehlia’s fate as much as your own, little lord?” the general added. His voice sharp, direct.

“I would hope so, Commander,” Astarion purred in reply, “I thought my affections for your daughter were on… full display this afternoon.”

General Aquilae pressed his thick fingers into his temples, rubbing them as if to ease a headache. “You know, Astarion, most young males court their intendeds with letters or poems or art or song… not their cock in their hand as they watch them bathing.”

Astarion shrugged, coolly and casually. “I have never been like most young males, Commander. You have always known that, as loyal friend of my parents, their faithful General…”

“You can leave your parents out of this, boy,” the general straightened. “What will you do to make this right by Cordehlia? Leave her to the shame you’ve inflicted? To the gossip and the ostracization of her peers?”

“I intend to make her mine, General,” he replied. Steadily, those hard, smirking lines of his face easing as his smile dropped.

The commander turned to round one more time across his study, his boots falling harshly against the wooden planks of the floor. Until he drew up short. “It’s close, but you need to be clear, Ancunìn. You’ll make her your what? Mistress, whore…”

“Bride.”

It was a simple word. Uttered so clearly, so matter-of-factly, all ears that heard it frozen.

Her father. And Cordehlia. The sneaky she-elf who peered through the smallest chink in the wall, who held her breath to hear two men discussing her future. But at that word, her heart soared, scared, excited, terrified and… something else she didn’t know. Something that stabbed her like a hot poker in the gut and flooded her abdomen with heat. She could see Astarion’s face perfectly from here; he looked so regal, so confident. So happy. Especially at making her father draw up short and stop, at a loss for words.

“Well, General?” Astarion grinned, smiling so self-assured, so cocky, “do you need me to repeat, sir?”

“No,” the older elf cleared his throat loudly and repeatedly. “Thank you.”

Astarion bowed his silver-tousled head. “If that is set arights, then perhaps I can break the happy news to my intended myself?”

“Firstly,” General Aquilae raised a single thick digit at the boy, “I will set you straight on this point, lordling. You are both far too young by the rights of our people to marry. Prepare yourselves for a long engagement, one where you had better show her nothing but the respect and devotion befitting a female of our status…” he narrowed his large silver eyes down at the boy, “even if it is still beneath your own, Master Acunìn.”

Astarion flashed a bright smile, a deferential bow of his head and shoulders, hand placed graciously over his heart. “On my honor,” he crooned, magnanimous in tone. Just like his parents. “The lady and I will wait for years, for decades, if that is your sage guidance.”

“Not decades, no,” he sniffed in rejoinder. “Don’t be so grandiose, boy. Five years hence at most until you may wed, unless any unexpected, little… surprises… come up in the meantime…”

Violet eyes wide, Astarion remained still at the implication. He swallowed hard, much to her father’s satisfaction. “Yes, General,” he murmured in reply. The meaning was clear enough.

General Aquilae almost laughed at the submission, the immediate effect of discomfort that smacked the boy across his pristine, handsome, and youthful face. It would be enough to scare the boy into caution for the time being. And that would be enough for now. “Allow me to fetch your intended, then.” He crossed towards the door, but paused when the boy gave that signature boisterous giggle.

“No need,” he giggled again. “Cordehlia already has her ear pressed to the wall, eyes peering through keyholes, I shouldn’t wonder…”

That violet, glinting gaze looked right at her… where she had one eye locked through the crack in the wall. A smile dancing on his thick, parted lips.

Quickly, she moved and held her breath, flouncing her gown and making her way as if she were simply strolling by the study door, a little book in hand as if she were lost in reading. Her father threw open the dark wooden door. “Daughter,” he ordered. No other words needed. His lined brow furrowed to see her, in fact, so close to his study.

“Yes, Father?” she lilted, tucking the book neatly against her chest as she folded her arms. “Is… is there something the matter?”

“I’ll let you find out for yourself,” he replied, walking out the door, “but no, nothing the matter.” His rough hand caught his daughter’s fingers from her book, giving them a tender squeeze before he left them to it.

Her heart raced, slowly turning to face that smirking youth in her father’s study. The one who went toe to toe with her father, and lived to tell the tale.

“Astarion,” she beamed, open and exuberant to see him against her better judgment to be coy. “It is late, you know.”

“No better time for a man to call upon his beloved, his intended…” he grinned, all feline and subtle, striding to shut the door behind her. “I don’t need to regale you with all the negotiations do I? You were listening ever so intently from your little hiding spot, weren’t you?”

“Of course,” she smiled, taking a few steps away from where he felt so close to her. Crossing, she sat on the little couch near the fire. And she regretted it the instant he sat immediately beside her. “I… I suppose I should thank…”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Tch,” he sucked his teeth, a habit of his when teasing her lately, “I told you I would get what I wanted, Cordehlia.”

“And, what was that?” she forced her face into a blank, innocent expression. Wide-eyed and pouting, hiding the laughter that bubbled inside.

“You,” he slowly seemed to lean in. “Despite my parents’ plans for a marriage alliance… despite your father’s hesitations…” his eyes cast down the front of her down, scanning the intricate weave of laces and ribbons that held her in, even as her chest heaved with panting and her bosoms threatened to spill out the top. “Despite even your own thoughts of self-inadequacy…”

“Oh, I do not doubt my own measure, Astarion,” she chided in reply, “I doubt that I will be enough to satisfy you and your… ambitions.”

“Wanting great things out of life means nothing if I can’t share it with you, my…” he whispered, that edge of pretend leaving his silken voice. A single finger pressed under her chin, feeling her throat swallowing and her jaw bobbing as she nervously met his gaze. “Hmmm, what shall I call you now?” he grinned. “My friend seems too unromantic. My intended, my betrothed… those seem so cumbersome.”

“Something simple, sweet and flirtatious,” she smiled, leaning into the heat of his touch, more of his fingers beginning to sweep over her cheek. “Nothing too saccharine… just a little something… darling…”

“Oh,” he gave that secretive half smile of his, “aren’t you just darling? So sweet and yet deceptively strong… that hint of irony behind it.. yes. Yes, it’ll do nicely, darling…”

Her eyes darted away, feeling so hot, cheeks flushed and burning, his hand still holding her face. But that heat swirled in her gut, her mind still reeling over the events of that day, and while her skin was clean from bathing, her mind had turned to only images and questions that were so, very dirty. “So…” she paused, feeling his face drawing nearer, his breath washing over her. “What was it you were caught doing exactly?”

Astarion’s eyes flashed, wide and dilating as he stared at that impertinent grin. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean… I wish to know… what… you were doing while you watched me,” her voice grew quieter, deeper in her throat the more she spoke.

“I was… pleasuring myself,” he managed to say, watching her cheeks growing pinker and pinker.

“Show me,” she whispered. Her chin jutted out in that over-confident way of hers.

Astarion cocked his head, a single corner of his lip curving slightly. “What?” he drolled.

“Show me… what you were doing…” she whispered, eyeing the door shut beside them, pure mischief in her silver eyes. “Show me, please…”

“I do so like it when you ask so sweetly,” he raised his brow, grinning widely as he leaned towards her breathtaking face. “So refined and smoothed over your edges, and yet…” His fingers pressed on her chin, tilting her upwards and drawing her close to his lips, “I still see that willful, feral playmate of mine who never once treated me like the son of the High Lord…”

“Quit your stalling, Acunìn,” she snapped, smiling all the while. Her body was pulsing, hotter than the fire before them should have made her. Her skin grew tighter the more he touched her.

“I can show you,” he whispered, smirking as his eyes darted towards the door. “But I’ll not do it in your father’s domain. Not when I’ve just garnered his dissenting approval.”

Her breath grew heavy, her dress suddenly too tight. “Where… when…?”

“It’s your home, darling. Can’t you think of someplace quiet… someplace intimate…”

“The gardens,” she couldn’t reply quickly enough. “I can slip from my terrace, if you meet me.”

“Then I shall be there,” his voice was thick, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. It made her stomach knotted and fluttery. Made her skin burning and her blood pounding. Whatever it was she was about to learn, she could barely wait the few moments it would be to sneak away.

Then he kissed her, more than just the little pecks as children. More than the courtly press of his mouth on her gentle fingers. He spared her nothing, for she knew full well already the twist of his tongue around her own, the sucking of his lips and the clack of his teeth against hers. But this kiss, this devoured her. Sucked her breath and filled her tastebuds with him alone. Until she forgot to so much as breathe.

A loud footstep outside the door made them suddenly draw apart, the turn of the handle making Astarion shoot right up from the couch to stand coolly at the mantle, a chilled, contented smile on his lips as her father returned.

As if those lips weren’t just consuming his daughter.

“It’s late, Master Acunìn,” the General commented, always direct, always commanding.

“Yes, well, there will be many years ahead of us for goodnight and goodbyes, isn’t that right, my darling?” the young elf nodded his head to his future bride. Who, very wisely, kept her flushing face away from the sight of her father.

“Yes, Astarion,” she replied, all joy and music in those two words. “Goodnight to you both,” she stood to dip a curtsy. “I am ever so pleased with our arrangement,” she added, smiling as she made her way from the room.

“As am I,” Astarion replied, locking eyes with the General. “Goodnight, my future bride and father. I can see myself out.”

“So long as you don’t see yourself back in, boy,” her father laughed under his breath. A cold sort of laugh, wisened by experience past the machinations of youth. “You have years for that. The blink of an eye for our kind.”

Astarion nodded his head, eyes still fixed on his exit. Careful not to give away the racing of his heart in anticipation. Gratified that his instincts were sharper than the General, the aging elf whose eyes he could feel until the moment he shut the door to their home behind him.

It would be an easy deception, to head down the path towards the road and double back to the little garden. The moon was bright, and the stars even brighter. Hanging arbors of bright purple and rosy blooms covered the walls and trellises.

She had chosen well, a secluded spot, hidden and muffled. He watched her room, a little cutaway on the ground floor, as he had before. Her shadow moving in the light, the flicker of candles gutting out as he heard the door to her terrace open.

He peered out from behind the arbor, her eyes instantly setting on him, her mouth parting in a smile. Hoisting her skirt, she ran over the little tiled terrace, scrambling, almost vaulting over the balustrade to land in his arms.

“I can’t believe you did that, Astarion,” she panted, instantly pressing her lips against his. “You’re so much trouble…”

“Yes,” he breathed in between her moving lips, “but aren’t I just worth it?”

“Show me what you were doing and we will see,” she growled into his mouth, his hands already skating over the silks of her gown, pawing beneath the edges of her robe. His fingers traced down her arm, weaving into her hand. Pulling her, they reached the little bench, nestled among the hanging vines of sleeping flowers. All was quiet and shadow. The air was cool against their burning skin, the stone of the bench even colder as they slammed into it, tumbling down to sit side by side. Pressed so tightly together, her leg draped between his. His arms pulled tightly around her waist.

“First day giving me your word you’ll be mine,” he panted, “and already all you want to know is how to pleasure me?”

“Well,” she shoved him away, hand planted firmly on his chest. “I already know how to tease you, to best you, to anger you and calm you…” she tilted her head with a sultry, knowing smile. “I’m sure there is much I have yet to learn… and I am eager for you to teach me.”

“You’ve come a long way from flinging mud in my face and threatening to tattle on my father, darling,” his words tickled her cheek as he hovered over her ear. “If you wish to learn, this lesson will be completely… hands on.”

“Save your wit, Astarion,” she hissed, a smile on her face, her hands already straying over the soft fabric of his tunic. “Need I remind you, after today, you had the advantage of knowing the sight of me… all of me. I have yet to have the same pleasure.”

“All in good time, after all…” he pulled away to stare into her eager eyes, so bright as they caught the starlight, “we have years ahead of us now.”

His hand covered hers, sliding it lower, letting her fingers brush over his belly that clenched as he struggled for air. Astarion said nothing, just giving her that half a smile that made her blush. His eyes watched her face blanch as he moved her hand even lower, to press it against where he was hard yet again that day. Slowly, he moved her fingers up and down it, her mouth hanging open slightly to feel its length from where it met his pelvis to the tip that pressed somewhere down the leg of his breeches.

She swallowed hard. Her breath was harsher than ever. Than even after sprinting.

“Well,” he finally purred as he kept their hands working over him slowly. “I only saw the parts of you that glittered in the water above its surface, and I have never been more jealous of some dewy drops on your skin before.”

Cordehlia smirked, beginning to move her hand more freely, fingers tracing the rounded edges of whatever it was beneath. “Now poetry? I prefer you razor wit…”

“How about nothing more than the sounds we make all on our own?” he breathed, his hands pulling the laces from his breeches free. She felt it shift as the fabric released. That hard thing twitching as he reached inside. She couldn’t look away, the sight of him making her mouth water.

And her body even hotter than she had ever been in his presence, in his arms before.

She shut her jaw, clenching it as she watched his hand wrap around its width, watched as it jerked and twitched as he beat over it back and forth. “It’s not like you to hesitate or to balk when something is… hard.”

One hand shoved his shoulder, the other wrapped to join his grip around that… thing. She exhaled as she squeezed, the skin so smooth, the whole shaft so hot and pulsing with the beat of his heart. And so hard as he had joked. Rigid and silken, hard and smooth. Her touch straying towards its tip, she saw it dripping, little white, almost clear drops as she touched it. She swept it in her fingers, tacky and slick over that fleshy tip.

He groaned as she did so, and instantly she pulled away. “Sorry,” she hissed, her cheeks growing even redder in shame to hurt him.

“No,” he panted, grabbing her hand back to encircle that tip again. “The opposite, it felt amazing, the way you touch my cock…”

“Oh,” she smiled, reapplying the same sort of stroke over that little slit, feeling it seeping again as she touched him. “So…” she tilted her head, meeting those dilated, violet eyes, “…you like this?”

“Mmm, very much, even better than when I touch myself and think of you. The real thing is so much better,” he groaned again as she stroked harder, faster, like he had before. Head thrown back, he closed his eyes, savoring that no-longer-timid touch.

“What happens next?” she asked, somehow breathless herself.

“The best part,” he replied through clenching teeth. “Whatever you do, don’t dare stop…” he was growling, his hips raising as she kept that beat. He rocked on the stone bench, hands gripping into the edge. She watched as he contorted, seeming to be in agony, that cock in her hand growing harder and hotter, but she didn’t dare stop. Like he asked.

She felt it shudder in her fingers, his body clenching as he groaned. Collapsing forward, he kept shaking as noise after pained and panting noise came from his mouth. More of that sticky white drips shot from him, and Cordehlia held her breath, so certain she had hurt him.

A fear that was dispelled the moment she looked at his face now. His slack-mouthed smile, his eyes wide and glowing in the moonlight, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against him. Lashing his mouth to hers, he muttered such sweet things into her lips. “That was…” he paused to breathe, “amazing. You were perfect. Better than I had dreamed…”

“It looked painful,” she replied, breaking away with a push on his chest again. Turning her head, she looked where the stones of the terrace were discolored and wet, where his cock still dripped a little more of that gleaming whiteness. “And you call that pleasuring yourself?”

“I assure you, he grinned, brows raising, lips quirking, “it is quite the opposite of painful.”

“Hmm,” she hemmed, skeptical as she turned to look back into that face.

“You look like you need some.. convincing…”

His hands wrapped around her waist, slowly starting to gather up the thin silks that covered her perfect, pale skin.

“I think I can show you, if you let me,” he crooned, mouth smiling wider.

“You’re going to teach me how to… pleasure myself?” Oh, she was so haughty, so confident and daring. Even when she was wrong, it was stimulating.

“Really?” She kept that hand firmly on his chest, even as her body gave her away, her hips sliding slightly closer as his hands pulled her skirts to her knees. “I take it this knowledge was not garnered from first… hand… experience…” she tested him.

“No, no,” he shook his head, smiling with reassurance, “I read it in a book, a most fascinating book…”

“So fascinating that it made you pursue release in… pleasuring yourself after?”

“Seems like you know more than an elegant, righteous she-elf should…” he touched her skin then, sliding two fingers higher from her knee. “You weren’t watching me, were you?” he taunted, fingers tracing back down only to dare higher beneath her skirts.

“No, that seemed to be your duty, my darling,” she laughed as she spoke, low and slick. Her breath came heavier. Her skin flamed hotter the higher he touched.

Then, she looked right into his eyes, all that taunting evaporated, her smile softened, her eyes wide and pleading as she could do nothing more than breathe and lean back even more.

And he kept touching, awed by that look of trust and… love. And then, he slunk those fingers beneath the thin line of her undergarments.

She was… wet. Hot. Those folds he had read about, observed in drawings… it was so much better now. But he needed more.

His other hand gripped her knee, pulling those strong legs of hers apart. A gasp tore from her throat as she let him. Her fingers clutched at the back of his head, locked into his hair as if she was about to collapse.

And then, his touch slid inside. Her eyes shot wide, her face contorting like his had, now she knew why.

He slid those fingertips back and forth, dragging that hot slick more and more through that seam. At last, he circled through that point at the apex, drawing his touch over that hard little spot. Just as he had read. But the way it made her clench and groan was even… more magnificent.

Her cheeks were so pink, her forehead beading with sweat. “What… is that…” she managed to speak, breathless and deep in her throat.

“Give me you hand, sweet Cordehlia, and you can tend to your own needs when I can’t be with you in the shadows.”

She obeyed, keeping that one grip tight around his neck. But the other slipped in to join his so quickly. Pushing harder, sweeping faster, his fingers tried to keep up with the way she was… touching herself.

“Gods,” he groaned, “how does it feel?”

“I… can’t…” she panted, eyes shutting hard as she groaned.

So he slid his fingers in deeper in… in her quivering walls.

“Ah!” she mewled, forgetting they were still in danger, forgetting anyone could hear them.

But Astarion didn’t care, not when she clenched hard and tight around his fingers, not when his cock was pulsing again, aching for another round of his own release.

She shook so hard, she almost pulled him down, her arm releasing instead to hold herself up. Her eyes looked at his body again, settling on where his cock still stood hard and twitching in his lap. “I want to watch you… watch you touch yourself while I…”

“Yes,” he growled, hand slipping from her skirts, rubbing that slick that coated his whole hand over himself. “Gods, Cordehlia,” he couldn’t keep his eyes open, not needing much more than a few more pumps on his cock to set him nearly off again. One last glance of her face wracked with ecstacy, the sound of her orgasm as she beat her own fingers into that hot slick he could smell… it was enough.

It was more than enough.

He watched as she bit her lips and screamed through them, hearing that wet squelch of her fingers beneath her skirt grow somehow wetter sounding.

She was divine. Worthy. Beyond compare. Worth all the wagging tongues of the nobles and disapproving scowls of his parents to make her his.

His.

And with that, he groaned and came again. Harder and more intensely than ever before. Spurting streams of his cum covered the tiles and dripped from his hand.

He looked at her then, her eyes glazed with lust, with sated desire and yet burning up for more.

He was hers as much as she was his…

And he would never be the same.

————

She released his mind. His mouth hung open, his breath ragged.

His heart warmed over, despite being dead, all fluttering and hot. Maybe a fragment of his soul returned to him, he wasn’t sure. The way her silver eyes beat open, that ember of desire in them from the memory of so long ago… it made him realize just how achingly hard he had become.

More than her blood in his stomach, more than the sight of her bathing… it was an ache in his groin and his chest that only one thing could satisfy.

And he could smell the same need between her legs, could hear it in the way her heart raced and rapped in her chest.

Swift and sure, her hands clutched into his shirt, grabbing him hard and pulling him. To make him climb on her body, to cover herself in the only remedy to quell her burning. She pushed his clothes off his skin, his voice reduced to a growl in his throat. Those eager, dexterous fingers ripped his own clothes off, relieved only once he was freed. Once they both were freed, nothing but their skin and desire to share.

“I was your first,” he rasped, crushing her with his body, consuming her with his mouth. “The first to know you, to touch you…”

“To taste me and pleasure me and have me…” she purred, “and I you.”

“And none shall have you like I have… like I do…” Astarion groaned, slipping his fingers into her, just as he had perhaps a million times before. Her arousal was so hot and plentiful, all resistance was gone.

As if her body was made for him. The same way a key can slip so perfectly into its lock.

After those memories, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were so. “You enjoyed learning from me,” he grunted into her mouth, the visions of their memories still flaring in his head. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed back. Her hips bucking hard, riding each crooking touch he made deep inside her.

“Your little shakes of excitement, your wide, innocent eyes and pink little lips wet for me…”

“Yes,” she sighed again, arching and clinging hard around his neck.

“Your lips, your breasts, your honey-dripping cunt… Gods, I want to fuck them all, make every inch of you mine, make them swollen and marked by my bite…” he looked down at her then, teeth glinting as he gave a wide-mouthed grin. “Not the Druid, not the Wizard, not a single one that looks at you would doubt you are mine…”

“Astarion, I’ve been yours,” Cordehlia said, hands gripping hard as she shuddered, feeling her own juices beginning to gush around his fingers, his thumb commanding her with all the dexterity he plied, all the knowledge of her body he now recalled from centuries.

He crooked his fingers even harder through her orgasm, working and fighting against every time she bore down in ecstacy. Panting, she softened around him, beneath him. Yielding to every part of him, body and soul. “Your turn,” she rasped, face nestled against his shoulder. Her hand gripped around his cock, slick already from the drips that already leaked from its tip.

Hips bucking into her fist, his lips peeled back to bare his teeth. “May I?”

“Bite me a dozen times so everyone sees your markings? Yes,” she snickered, rubbing over his shaft just a little faster until he groaned. From her touch or her words, she wasn’t sure. But she loved it either way.

The base of her neck, the throbbing of her jugular, the crest of her collarbone… one after another he nipped and drank. Each bite making her fist clench so tightly around his cock, he had no choice but to let his body rut into her grip. His tongue lapped all over her own ivory skin, her crimson blood thick in his throat as she pleasured him.

That age-old touch that commanded him, pleasuring him as only she could. Thousands of forced lovers over hundreds of years, and for once, he reclaimed that feeling of intimacy, that near-first-time thrill he thought long dead. Making love to one he wanted. One he…

“I love you,” he whispered between her blood-dripping breasts.

“I have always loved you,” the reply couldn’t leave her lips fast enough. Her fingers gripping into the locks behind his pointed ears, pulling his dripping copper-tanged mouth to hers. Furious. Crazed. Matching that possessiveness stroke for stroke with her tongue, nip for nip with her teeth on his lips. Her hand dragged through the pooling blood on her body, running that warm, thick liquid over his cock.

Making him shudder as she ran her touch up and down it again. He groaned with that hot slick gliding over his length. The scent of her blood was too delicious to resist. “As fun as it was to cum all over you when we were young, I’d much rather be invited inside, my love.” He tried to sweeten his voice, but that play on his cock already had him undone.

She only chuckled, guiding him inside her so quickly, he barely could tell what was her fist and what was her folds until her thighs clenched tight around his waist, her hips bucking hard against his own. Riding him with every little bit of passion she had stored inside for him alone.

Possessing her for centuries. Making certain he never forgot now that he was hers to possess as well.

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angryschnauzer · 2 years

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In Need Of Help

Summary: Whilst visitng your parents for the holidays you find a present your roommate gave you, a buttplug. Unfortunately for you it gets stuck and there’s only one person you can ask for help; your parents next door neighbour and your dads best friend; August Walker

Pairing: Dads Best Friend August Walker x Female Reader (Slight age difference approx 8 years)

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Mission Impossible: Fallout.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Age Gap Relationship, Sex Toys, Butt Plug, Butt Plug getting stuck, fingering, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie

Wordcount: 3333

Here is my masterlist and AO3

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

In Need Of Help

This is not the predicament you had been expecting to find yourself in when you’d made plans to spend Christmas with your parents in the suburbs. The worst thing you could have imagined happening would have been your much younger siblings causing bruises as they excitedly climbed on you - their big sister - instead you found yourself with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your contacts from high school to figure out who you could call as this was a problem you couldn’t fix on your own and was certainly not one you could ask your parents with.

When your best friend handed you your Christmas gift before you’d left, she had a shit eating grin on her face and simply said ‘don’t open it in front of your family’. It was only when you’d been sorting through your bag towards the end of your stay you’d found the forgotten gift and unwrapped it, almost dropping it when you saw the silver plug shining in the discrete velvet box, a small package of lube tucked in next to it. A note in your friend’s handwriting was tucked into the lid; ‘you need to open your horizons’.

“Yeah, we’ll I've got to open my asshole first it would seem” you muttered to yourself, your thoughts interrupted by your Mom as she called up to you.

“We’re going now, enjoy the peace and quiet!”

That had been an hour ago, and now as your parents had taken your younger siblings to their post Christmas gymnastics lesson you’d stayed home, and after a restless half hour of attempting to read or enjoy your other seasonal gifts, you’d found yourself in your bedroom with the plug. You were horny. The walls of your parents' home were thin, so you hadn’t had a chance to use the small vibrator you’d optimistically packed, and had settled down with your kindle and some of the spicy titles you’d downloaded. A brief moment of misplaced confidence and that was how you found yourself in your predicament; the plug was stuck.

At first you’d enjoyed the sensation, having gone slowly with a small amount of lube, but you’d shifted on the bed to get more comfortable but it’d had the opposite effect. Deciding it was time to remove it you’d stretched, twisted and tried, but no matter what you attempted your ass was not giving up its new decoration.

So this is where you were, in need of help. Shutting your phone down you sighed, not a single one of your local contacts was someone who you’d feel comfortable approaching with such a matter, those that had stayed in town seemed the most vanilla type of people possible. You couldn’t even call your best friend as you knew she was on duty as a flight attendant, probably somewhere 40,000ft in the air right at this moment. Standing in your room you glanced out of the window and a thought came to you. Chewing on your lip you considered your options, before pulling your woollen socks further up your legs so your knitted dress covered the tops of them, sliding on your boots and making your way out of the house.

Your parents had conceived you early, whilst they were in high school, and against the odds had made a teen pregnancy work. Married fresh out of high school they had taken turns to go to local community college whilst raising a small child, only expanding their family once you headed off to college, and now you had twin sisters who were almost a generation younger than you. It also meant that the ages of your friends and the ages of your parents' friends would intersect in the middle. One friend in particular of your parents was their next door neighbour, August Walker.

Mr Walker, or August as he’d insisted you’d call him, was smack bang in the middle of the age bracket between you and your parents, and although your father’s friend, he was known to throw a wink at you now and again when your parents weren’t looking. When you’d visited for 4th of July you’d be bending over in a short sundress to unload the dishwasher, when you’d turned around and saw him paused at the door to the kitchen. A smirk and a wink, he’d started to approach you when your Dad had called out to you, and with another wink he’d discretely adjusted himself before disappearing back to the party.

As you crossed the short path between houses you did your best not to slip over on the snow, the last thing you needed to happen was to fall on your ass, especially considering your current ass-based issue.

When he opened the door he briefly looked surprised, before a small smile crossed his face;

“Hi, what can I do for you?”

Shivering on the doorstep you hugged yourself tightly, your shivering more from nerves than the cold;

“Umm… can I come in, please?”

Ten minutes later you were stood beside the sleek marble kitchen island, August pushing a strong drink across the counter for you to take;

“Thanks”

Rather than staying on the opposite side of the island, August circled around with his glass of whiskey before he stood in front of you. Placing his glass on the counter he rested both of his hands on your upper arms, softly rubbing as he spoke;

“Thank you for coming to me with this. You’re a beautiful girl and i wouldn’t want anything to happen to you”

“August, I’m not a girl, I’m 25” you corrected, slightly annoyed that he called you a girl; “And currently have a buttplug stuck in my ass”

“And we’ll get that sorted. Lots of first times can be embarrassing or tricky”

“It’s not my ‘first time’, i’ve fucked before”

He hooked his finger beneath your chin, guiding your head slightly so you could meet his intense gaze;

“I don’t doubt that, I meant the first time with something in your ass” he said with a slight chuckle.

“So umm… how are we… Are you going to do this? Should I just bend over or…?”

Wrapping his arms around you he pulled you to his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head;

“Oh Princess, no. No we’re not. You need to relax, as you’re no doubt wound so tight right about now that nothing is gonna go in or out of that ass”

You let out a sigh, inhaling his aftershave as your face was pressed to his chest, the soft knit shirt warm and comforting. After a few moments you pushed back and looked August in the face, for the first time noticing how his left eye had a little patch of brown in the iris among the icy blue. You were lost in your own mind when you realised he’d been saying something;

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, let's get started”

He slipped his hand into yours but you didn’t make a move;

“How are we going to do this?”

He sighed before stepping back towards you;

“Believe it or not Princess, this isn’t my first rodeo with a lovely young lady being a little over confident with their butt. First and foremost you need to relax, and i don’t mean mentally, i mean physically. You need to relax all your pelvic muscles…”

“Ok…”

“And the easiest way to do that is arousal”

You paused, taking in the reality of what you were about to do

“I see. And you’ll…”

“Help. In any way you need me to”

August had led you through his house to his bedroom which was exactly as you’d been expecting; simple dark tones, dark bedding, low lighting. The windows overlooked the wooded shore of the lake, the opposite direction from your parents house. The sense of privacy was comforting, and yet as August shut the door you felt a sense that you were way out of your depth. Crossing the room he stood in front of you, again resting his palms on your upper arms;

“So, what would you like?”

Taking a deep breath you could feel your voice waiver a little;

“I want you to take charge please, August”

He let out an appreciative hum before hooking his knuckle beneath your chin to turn your face to him before kissing you. What started as a small gentle touch of his lips soon developed into more, and before long your arms were around his shoulders as his tongue pushed into your mouth, tasting you as you were pliable in his grasp. He slowly pulled at your sweater dress until it was at your chest, breaking the kiss;

“Lift your arms Princess”

Doing as he told you, he lifted the garment all the way off, taking a moment to appreciate the way your bra cupped your breasts.His gaze travelled further down and smiled at the Christmas print cotton thong;

“Mmm, turn around” he instructed, his voice low

Slowly turning, your socks smooth on the thick pile carpet of his bedroom, when your ass was facing him he rested a hand on your shoulder;

“Hands on the bed”

Leaning forwards a little you set your palms onto the black comforter that was neatly folded on the high bed. You felt as he held your buttocks in his massive hands, warming the skin with his palms before pulling your cheeks apart a little and letting out a long slow breath;

“Now that is one of the prettiest sights i’ve seen”

You let out a small squeak as his hand slid between your legs, his thumb barely grazing against the plug as his fingers worked between your folds, grunting as he found you already soaked. Tenderly his fingers explored your folds, his other hand wrapping around your torso and pulled you up to stand, cupping your chin to turn your head so he could kiss you as his fingers worked between your thighs.

As his fingers pushed further you broke the kiss, panting out as you instinctively rose up onto your toes, your back supported against August’s chest.

“Such a good girl, so wet and tight, your pussy is begging for another finger, isn’t it?”

“Yes August, please”

With another low hum of appreciation he shifted his hand to allow a second finger slide into your eager hole, his breath hot on your face as he worked your body until you were rocking against his hand, eager for release. Your sighs and moans were an easy indication that you were close.

“It’s time to cum Princess, cum for me”

Your mouth fell into a silent O as you came, your hands clinging to August’s strong forearm that sat across your torso, your body shaking as he held you tight and let you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Eventually he pulled his hand away, and as you turned slightly you watched as he sucked two fingers into his mouth, sucking your slick juices from them;

“Delicious. Now, on the bed, on your hands and knees”

He swatted a light slap on your ass, to which you let out a little yelp before you did as he asked, settling on the high bed, your ass towards him.

“Now, let's have a good look here” he muttered to himself, smoothing his palms over your cheeks to pull them apart and take a look at the prize between them. Hooking your thong panties to one side he tenderly ran his finger through your folds and up to your ass, around the jewelled flared base before grasping it and giving it a little tug.

“Hmm, still tightly in there. How much lube did you use?”

“Just… Just a little bit”

He sucked in air through his teeth;

“Tut tut tut, No, with anything butt related you use a ton of lube. Copious amounts, it needs to be wetter than a slip and slide in a thunderstorm. Stay there.”

You heard him moving around the room before quickly returning to you, his warm hand on your ass again, this time carefully pulling your panties down until they sat around your thighs. The soft click of a capped bottle broke the silence before you felt a cold drip of something viscous land on your ass near to the plug, soon followed by the warm touch of his finger spreading the lube around the base of the plug;

“We’ll need to work the lube in around your little decoration Princess. No no, I can feel you tensing up again, relax…”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one with something stuck in your ass”

“How do you know I haven't?”

You whipped your head around in shock, only to be greeted with August’s now tell tale smirk. Narrowing your gaze you glared at him;

“Kinky”

“Yup. Now get back into position”

He pressed a hand to your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest was resting on the comforter;

“Time to get you relaxed again”

With your vision now obscured you could only feel what he was doing, the soft furnishings muting his movements, so you were shocked when you felt something warm and wet slide through your folds, followed by the rough brush of facial hair against your labia;

“Oh oooh god”

August set off at a brisk pace, his tongue working against your cunt to the point you barely noticed his fingers working around the plug, only realising something was amiss when you felt the definite stretch of a finger sliding in alongside the plug. The movement was a foreign feeling, but as his tongue delved further into your soaked hole you started to enjoy the feeling, your moans and sighs increasing until you could feel the start of an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach;

“Please… please, so good, more… please August…”

He didn’t reply, one hand now firmly gripped on your hip whilst the other worked at the plug, his mouth all but buried in your pussy until you came with a cry of his name, shuddering as your body was rocked with a strong orgasm, cumming on his face until you slumped forwards and lay twitching on the soft covers of his bed.

As the world came back into focus you saw August moving at the foot of the bed, a soft cloth in his hand before he pressed it to your buttocks;

“Sorry, there was a bit more lube than we needed”

It took a couple of seconds to register, but when it did your eyes went wide and you stretched a hand to your ass, only to find the unwanted decoration now missing from its prison;

“You got the plug out!”

“Hmmm mmm” he hummed, looking down at you as your hands explored your naked below the waist body, running his own hand over the obscene bulge now in his pants. In a moment of confidence you moved forward, resting carefully on the edge of the bed before reaching a hand out to palm over the bulge alongside his own much larger hand;

“I should thank you for your help” you said coyly, looking up through your lashes as you moved to tug the zipper down.

August cupped your chin;

“Do you think you can handle me? You ever been with an older man?”

“Dude, you’re seven years old, eight at most depending on what month”

He just smirked at your response, instead picking you up and softly tossing you on to his bed;

“Lets apart, I want to see that pussy”

You did as he asked as he stripped, and you were transfixed by his body. Thick with muscle his chest was covered in a thick layer of hair that ran down to his stomach and dick. Speaking of which he was rock hard and girthy, patterned with veins. You licked your lips as you watched him roll a condom down before climbing into the bed.

He kissed his way up your body before settling between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips before he suddenly turned the pair of you so you were on top and straddling his stomach;

“You’re gonna show me just how much of a big girl you are Princess, I’m gonna let you ride me, see how much of me you can take”

“You want me to…?! Oh god…”

Pushing yourself up on your knees you took a deep breath and looked down at the monster standing proud beneath you. Reaching out to hold it you positioned him at your entrance before pushing down, feeling him breach your body. Resting the palms of your hands on his stomach you shut your eyes and rocked up and down a little, easing your way a little further each time until you heard him grunt;

“Doing well Princess”

In a moment of bravery - or perhaps stupidity - you rose and then fell all the way, taking him as deep as you could. Both of you let out curse words as your bodies grew accustomed to the size and tightness, trembling as you urged your body to relax until you were confident enough to start rocking your hips just a little.

“You’re so big August…” you praised, riding him with your eyes closed so you could focus on the stretch and pull every time.

He didn’t respond, and when you opened your eyes you saw his were wide open, jaw slack as he watched where your bodies were joined;

“Your cunt looks so perfect stretching around me. I know you’re struggling to take me, you can do it… ride me Princess”

With renewed vigour and confidence you rode him like he was a pony ride at your 10th birthday, grinding your hips down so your clit rubbed against the root of his shaft, bringing you closer to another orgasm. You felt his hand grip your thighs then hips, pulling you down to meet his upwards thrusts and you could tell he was getting close. You quickly moved your hand to your pussy, rubbing your clit;

“Cum for me August, let me feel you inside me. You needn’t have worn the condom, i’m on the pill and tested…”

He suddenly pushed you up, pulling the condom off and tossing it aside before pulling you straight back down again onto his cock. The groan you both let out as you felt skin on skin filled the room;

“Oh fuck, i’m gonna cum, your cunt feels too good”

Your orgasm surged through you as you felt August filling you with his creamy seed, pumping you full as you trembled around him. As your throes of passion subsided you collapsed on his chest, sated and full.

“It was so good of you to show my girl how to stop that hacker getting into her phone” you Dad said, clapping a hand over August’s shoulder as he stood in your parents kitchen.

After what had happened you’d had to think of an excuse as your parents had seen you crossing the snowy lawn to which you’d had to come up with something quick as an excuse. That was how you found yourself standing in your parents kitchen listen to August make up a very plausible scenario, whilst his cum slowly dripped down your inner thigh.

“Hey, did she tell you she got a paid internship?” your Dad’s question to August pulled you out of your daze.

“No, where is that then?” August asked animatedly

“Some big law firm in the city”

“Oh really?”

“Where was it sweetie?” your Dad pushed

“Syverson, Marshall & Walker Associates”

“Ohhh really…” August nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth

Your Dad missed the expression on August’s face, wrapping his arm around your shoulders;

“Yup, my little girl is all grown up now, playing with the big boys”

August smiled;

“Sounds like a dream come true”

You were completely unaware of just who your bosses come Monday would be.

#august walker #August Walker x Reader #DBF August Walker #Age Gap Smut #Henry Cavill

1K notes · View notes

journey-to-the-attic · 7 months

Text

3rd anni req 2: [DRAGON AU] mammon / first encounter

ao3 link

note: requested by @whensam! i have to admit, i was hoping this'd pop up. i know i can write what i want, but i always feel i need an excuse anyway. you didn't indicate a preference for pov and i also just ended up wanting to do both, so this is a little longer than expected as a result!

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Baker's children don't make good hunters. We’re used to carrying sacks of flour, not sprinting across fields with pitchfork-wielding mobs in hot pursuit. We don't make good kindling, either, but that hasn't stopped about half the adults in the village - for shame, I'd say, if I had the breath to speak.

Here's the thing. Our village isn't exactly a popular spot by any definition of the term. We're too far from any big cities to make good business, we don't make much worth selling, and the people certainly aren't charming enough to warrant a detour.

More important, though, are the creatures we share land with. Through the grassland that border the crop fields, there are invisible lines drawn in the soil - ones that no one crosses.

These lines mark dragon territory, and everyone knows that a dragon would sooner eat you for breakfast than stop for a reasonable conversation. Reasonable conversation is not something I have the luxury of at the moment, which is why I’m already several hundred paces over the line.

Just fifty already takes you into the forest. I don’t hear footsteps in pursuit anymore - they’d have to be mad to follow me so far in, which is exactly what I'd been banking on. The issue now is that, rather than being pitchforked, or burnt at the stake, I’ll probably just get eaten instead.

I pick my way through rotting leaf litter and ridged roots before collapsing against an old oak, wondering if the moisture dripping from overhead is safe to drink - or at least to wash my mouth out with. Gnawing through rope seems like a clever idea until your teeth start bleeding.

I can’t stay here, I think. Dying now would be like letting them win. Then Dad will have smacked the alderman for no reason.

Just as I get back to my feet, something whooshes overhead. I freeze. Those wings were larger than any bird I’ve ever seen.

Surely it couldn’t see me through the leaves. I crouch low to the ground and try to hide in the undergrowth - the wingbeats disappear until all I can hear is distant birdsong.

At least they’re having a nice day. I duck my head and trudge through a hedge - and come face to face with a dragon.

“Argh!”

I leap backwards. Bad move. The sunlight falls across its pointed face just in time for me to watch its pupils expand into full moons, like a cat on the hunt.

It doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t charge, snap or growl. It creeps slowly, eyes fixed on me the whole way forward, as if making sure I know that I can’t escape.

Nowhere to run. I press my back against a wizened old pine and shut my eyes tight - throwing out an arm, as if that might shield me.

Nothing happens. Then something cold presses into my palm.

My eyes snap open. The dragon blinks down at me. Its eyes are such a deep shade of blue that it’s almost dizzying. Oh. Oh, okay.

Its - his? I wonder, noting the ridges on his nose - snout rests carefully in my palm. He seems to register me staring at him, and snorts. The hot air is just on the brink of scalding, but not quite enough to hurt.

Then, almost experimentally, he opens his mouth - a yawning chasm of teeth, poised as if to ever-so-gently bite off my head. Except he doesn’t do that. There’s no pain - no crunch of broken bone or split sinew - far from it. The dragon leans down, carefully hooks his teeth into the collar of my shirt, and takes off.

I’d have screamed if it wasn’t for all the air leaving my chest at once. The forest shrinks to a dark blanket beneath us faster than I can even register it happening, and I realise very quickly that I’d be dashed to bits if I so much as slipped.

Wyvern, says an unhelpful voice in the back of my head as we soar. The dragon’s white-and-gold wings blot out the sun, but they’re so brilliant that it’s hard to tell the difference. They’re good fliers.

Before long, the dragon lands - legs first, digging his talons deep into the soil as he skids to a stop. After a moment, he huffs, then (strangely gently) drops me in a heap on the stony ground.

There’s a rumble, a swoosh - then several thuds, a swoosh of wings. I watch a shadow fall over my field of vision, then slowly raise my head.

Oh, I think a little faintly.

All sorts of colours, all sorts of demeanours. One in particular steps forward - dark, with crimson eyes, and the sort of air about him that tells me he's the leader. Boss, I'll call him, if only to settle my own nerves. The dragon that brought me here (Goldie, I decide, still trying to settle my breathing) steps forward with a sort of chirrup in greeting.

It's a spectacle, if nothing else. Here are seven dragons, horns and wings and all. I've heard cautionary tales and horror stories, but they never really tell you how majestic they look in real life - scales shinier than any jewel I could imagine. Marvels of creatures, really. If only I had the wits to appreciate it.

Boss is growling now - there's a sort of heat rolling off him in waves. Some of the feeling coming back to my numb legs.

If only I knew what they were saying...

It isn’t often that the forest bears treasure - usually it’s all very boring things, like meat and berries and leaves. To be fair, Mammon's used to treasure of the shiny, golden kind - not this weird little critter crouched against a tree.

It smells faintly of smoke and burnt wheat. He stalks closer, but he's testing it more than anything - it doesn’t look like any prey he’s familiar with.

When he gets close, it sticks out a little starfish-shaped appendage and closes its eyes. He smells bitter fear now.

Is it greeting him? Telling him it isn’t a threat? That’s smart. He thought only dragons could be smart, but it’s not behaving - nor does it look - like any dragon he's ever met.

So he returns the greeting with his snout. He half expects to be stung, like the time Asmo brought that little spidery thing home, but all the critter does is look up at him fearfully.

Interesting. On a whim, he scoops the little round thing off, and decides to take it back home.

The weird not-prey goes still as soon as he takes off. Once home, he lets it disembark (drops it on the floor, though he tries to be gentle), then looks up to face his brothers as they land around him.

The others decide to keep their distance. Lucifer is the first to plod forward and investigate.

He sniffs carefully at the air, then makes a crackling noise somewhere at the base of his throat - which isn't usually a good sign.

“That’s a human, Mammon," He says, glaring at the little critter. It’s still sitting, frozen.

“It’s a what?”

“What’d you bring that for? Stupid.” Belphie settles back on his haunches, blowing out a puff of frost. “Can’t go around snatching humans. We’ll get hunted. Stupid.”

“Shut up,” He grunts. “And I didn’t snatch it. Found it walkin’ around in the forest.”

“That’s impossible,” Satan says nearly immediately. His tail swishes back and forth - slow and deliberate, an analytical glint in his clever eyes. “They don’t let their young anywhere near us.”

“Well, whaddya call this, then?”

The human - apparently - suddenly seems to regain use of its limbs. Springing to its feet (Levi shrinks back, crest flattering over his head), it stumbles for a moment, then abruptly ducks under one of Mammon's wings.

The rest of his brothers - who'd similarly drawn back - relax again with a simultaneous murmur of vague confusion. Mammon blinks. Then his tail starts flicking at the end - like it always does when he's pleased.

“...you are not keeping it,” Lucifer says, looking as if he'd very much like to fly off into the sunset.

“It might have a disease!” adds Asmo.

“I don’t care what any of ya say,” Mammon says stubbornly, snapping at Beel when it looks like he might creep in for a bite. “I’m not sendin’ it back to the forest. It’ll be dead in a day.”

"It might be dangerous," Levi hisses. "It's totally giving me the evil eyes."

"Stop scaring it, then,” Mammon says loftily. “Relax, ya big baby - You’ve got teeth bigger than its whole head.”

“You are not keeping it,” Lucifer says again, as if repeating himself will make him sound more in charge.

“Pfft. Can’t tell me what to do.” He snaps at Beel again. “Oi! No bitin’! Go raid your stash or something.”

Beel’s horns seem to droop a little. “...fine. C’mon, Belphie.”

“I was busy,” complains Satan with a huff as the twins flap off. "This is boring. I've seen deer carcasses more interesting than that weird little thing."

"Go look at your stinkin' carcasses, then," Mammon shoots back, fighting the impulse to spit something at him.

Satan does exactly that. Levi soon slinks off as well, apparently still intimidated - and Asmo seems to have disappeared as soon as he decided the human wasn't going to make a good accessory.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stands his ground. His tail is beginning to lash in agitation. If Mammon’s lucky, maybe he’ll even start spitting fire.

“I'm not gonna eat it,” He says stubbornly.

“I wasn't going to tell you to,” Lucifer replies, but he sounds very much like he’s considering it. “Belphie was right. If a hunter sees us with one of their young, they’ll take it as a threat.”

“Like we wouldn’t win,” He scoffs, sitting down with a thump. "Anyway,don't ya smell the fire on it?"

A single scarlet eye narrows a little. Evidently he hadn't - though Lucifer's always smelling smoke, by virtue of the literal furnace in his chest, so he can't really be blamed for not noticing.

The human is peeking out from beneath his wing with a little more bravado now. Lucifer eyes its round little face as if it might start spitting poison at him.

"...humans don't usually try to set fire to their young," Lucifer says after a moment. "You're sure she doesn't have anywhere to go?"

"Wouldn't've been in the forest if it— uh, she did." He glances down. "C'mon! Not like we don't have the space."

Lucifer is silent. Then he gives a long-suffering sigh - sending a plume of dark blue smoke into the sky - and bends down to the human’s eye level again.

“Will you behave?” Lucifer asks her severely, as if she can understand dragon-speak.

The human child blinks up at him. Then she reaches up and plants a hand on his snout.

Mammon holds his breath. After a moment, Lucifer’s wings flutter, then settle.

“I’m not having any part in this,” He announces, stepping back. “This is to be your responsibility only. Don't make any trouble for your brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says dismissively, occupied with keeping his triumph from showing in his tail. Got it.”

Lucifer glances down at the human one final time. “...take care of her.”

And off he flaps - to attend to his usual nighttime duties. He says he's keeping watch for danger, but mostly they seem to involve gazing darkly into the sunset.

With his brothers dispersed, Mammon takes a moment to actually consider his situation. He doesn’t actually know what taking care of a human child involves. He doesn’t know much about humans in general - it’s not like he usually pays them any attention. Maybe some of his brothers could give him some advice… if any of them were interested in the kid’s well-being, at least.

They’ll come around, He decides after a moment, unfurling his wings and attempting to nudge the human in the general direction of their living caves. First, I gotta figure out what these things eat…

#3rd anni event #obey me #writing #dragon au #i mentioned this in the ao3 notes but it's crazy to me that it's been two years since dragon au started #like woa. time passes #jtta aus #obey me mammon #jtta ik #obey me brothers #(won't tag the others individually since they're not as prominent)#whensam

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hyacinthi-mortem · 10 months

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LOST MY KINDLE FOR TWO DAYS, WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE, DO NOT RECOMMEND, 0 STARS ON YELP

#ao3 #my kindle is the holy fucking grail i swear #so if ao3 is down i can use my kindle #unholyverse #i need ao3 to live please you don't understand #kindle

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redfurrycat · 1 year

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🤠🐓Omegaverse Fic Recs🐓🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Alpha!Bradley / Omega!Jake

Ao3 Authors: Anonymous, Booklover03, Caliburn, Chillibeam, Cristinuke, Eclair_Fair98, Elizabethgee, Fuddlewuddle, Hockeyandfootballismyish, HoneyWhatever, Janie94, Kezzanza, Ladylanera, Lizbeth_e, Lovelybattle, McDanno50, Oopsiedaisiesbaby, Perishablealex, PleaseHellMe, PVB, ReformedTsundere, Renai_chan, SamHeartfilia, SerenaLight17, SissySpargo, Trizte, WaffleToaster.

Alpha!Jake / Omega!Bradley

Ao3 Authors: Barnes_Brain, Bbr1, Caitlin44, Chase_acow, Deuceofgears, Earthangel_44, FlowersOnMyMind, ForMaverick, Goosed, Happytree, LadyLanera, Multishippingtrashfire, Nightfuryy, Nixie_DeAngel, Thursday26, Vannral.

Alpha!Bradley / Alpha!Jake

Ao3 Authors: Anonymous, Chase_acow, Hngstercity, Janie94, Milestaller.

Alpha!Bradley / Beta!Jake

Ao3 Author: Emseebeans.

Omega!Bradley / Beta!Jake

Ao3 Author: Ginnydear.

Alpha!Bradley / Omega!Jake

In the Blink of an Eye by Janie94 {M}

It's been a few weeks since the dagger mission and the squad is hanging out at their favorite bar. Bradley is still trying to figure out how his feelings for Jake have changed in the past weeks when Jake gets harrassed by another Alpha and Bradley promptly loses his shit.

Life Still Goes On by Renai_chan

Got to Make It on My Own {E}

Jake and Bradley spend one night together under the heavy, heavy influence of alcohol. It does not go well. But it goes worse for Jake than it does for Bradley because he wakes up with a bonding bite and his new alpha nowhere to be found. When they're recalled for a special training detachment eight years later, Jake finds out that Bradley doesn't remember giving him the bite at all and Bradley finds out about it for the first time. It still does not go well.

This Time I Know It's for Real {E}

This takes place two years later when Jake and Bradley's bond has settled down and Jake's heats have turned regular again. Or so they think. On Bradley's first deployment away from Jake, Jake suddenly finds himself in the throes of an unexpected heat, and with Bradley halfway across the world, he has to again deal with it without his alpha. Except this time, he's already gotten used to having Bradley to help him through them, and not even Javy can suffice as a substitute anymore.

I Can't Get Over the Way You Love Me Like You Do {T}

Bradley reflects on being a dad and a husband.

Rulebreaker by Fuddlewuddle {E}

Jake doesn't sleep with Alphas as a rule. Bradley Bradshaw made him want to break that rule. An unscheduled, but well-timed heat, might help the Omega get that through the Alpha's thick skull of his.

The Highs and Lows of Having a Naval Aviator as Your Omega by hockeyandfootballismyish {T}

Bradley wasn’t quite sure when he started to refer to Hangman- no Jake as his omega. It may have been sometime after the Mission when his omega saved his life and simultaneously gaining his second kill to cement his title as one of the best currently or maybe it was when they hooked up for the first time and Bradley couldn’t help but stare in absolute awe at the man riding his knot and taking his pleasure as he pleased.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Eclair_Fair98 {E}

”There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. / There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. / You feel it, don't you?” — Rumi. Summer, ‘73: A month before she dies, Mabel Mitchell signs away her son’s future in Tom Kazansky's name. Fall, ‘78: An eighteen-year-old Pete Kazansky, is married, bonded, and expecting his first baby. Until one day, he isn’t. Summer, ‘83: Two people find their way back to each other, and on the path of healing and forgiveness, also find themselves. Or, A story spanning decades—about love, loss, and carving out an identity for yourself, in a world that doesn’t want you to have one.

Relax by lovelybattle {E}

Bradley was nervous, it was clear as day to anyone, but especially Jake. The way he fiddled with his hands, curling in on himself slightly, hunching his shoulders inwards. “I was- I saw something. The other day, online.” he said, voice quiet, words choppy, “apparently… sometimes, omegas fuck alphas.”

Let the Riptide Pull You Close by McDanno50 {E}

Hangman’s green eyes were the slightest bit unfocused and his usually styled blonde hair was mussed. He was also barefoot and wore threadbare sweatpants, the material loose enough to hang from his hips. He didn’t have a shirt on and all those golden muscles on display made it hard for Bradley to think. They've survived the impossible and now it's time to party. Except Hangman isn't answering anyone's texts and Rooster is most definitely not concerned. Phoenix orders him to check on the other alpha at his home, but Hangman has been keeping secrets...

You’re a Bad Habit… by HoneyWhatever {E}

You're a Bad Habit I Can't Shake Off (but I still want more)

They don't date, they are not even friends, what they have is similar to a bad habit you want to quit. And now they have to figure out how to be parents together.

In Need of Some Life-Affirming Touches

They don't date, they are not even friends, what they have is similar to a bad habit you want to quit. Now, in the face of uncertainty, boy do they love getting high on each other.

i’m so in love with loving you, that's all I do by hockeyandfootballismyish {M}

Jake Seresin has never had an easy life. From being his father’s punching bag after his mother died to bouncing around in the foster care system until eventually his foster father took it upon himself to mate him because after all, who would want a troublesome omega? Much less one who was pregnant. Or that’s what Jake thought until he met Bradley Bradshaw.

I Am Yours by Booklover03 {_}

Being an Omega with a mating bite and a half-finished mating bond without his Alpha in sight is hard. Hiding the fact that he’s a mated Omega is even harder. What happens when years later he meets his Alpha again? Especially when the other man doesn’t seem to acknowledge the bite mark he left on the Omega years prior.

You Got Me Walking' Side To Side by PleaseHellMe {E}

"You're burning up. Are you feeling sick?" he asked and noticed how sweat had started to bead against Bradley's hairline, making the bronze curls stick against his skin. When Bradley didn't answer, Jake cradled his cheek and tapped it lightly to gain the Alpha's attention. Bradley blinked his eyes open. It happened so slowly like they felt impossibly heavy to open. The barely opened eyes revealed blown-out pupils that had swallowed the beautiful hazel irises, which were one of Jake's favorite things about him. "Are you going into a rut Darlin’? Is that what's going on?"

Make someone happy by WaffleToaster {T}

Bradley Bradshaw feels like he has misjudged Jake Seresin when he finally gets to know him better after the mission and quickly comes to realise Jake is actually quite different from the Hangman persona he knew up until now. Much to his and everyone's surprise they actually get along with each other, they still bicker but that's to be expected when you're both of the same dominant type. But it's when Bradley starts feeling something more that he starts doubting the situation. The thing they called 'the tug' only happened between you and your soulmate. But that couldn't be correct, because two alphas couldn't feel 'the tug' for each other, right?

Heat Waves by elizabethgee {E}

"It's bad enough the temperatures are in the triple digits. Did he really have to go into heat on the hottest day of the fucking year too?" -- In which Jake goes into heat at the most inopportune time, and Bradley really tries to be a gentleman about it.

Let Me Face Hurricanes by Cristinuke {E}

Hangman and Rooster are caught and held captive by the enemy. This is always less than ideal, but then they learn their captors decide to take a different approach in interrogation, and they suddenly realize that escape is about to get a lot harder.

Misconceptions by SamHeartfilia {M}

Jake "Hangman" Seresin received an incomplete mating claim from one Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw a week after graduating from the Naval Academy. No one but his best friend know, and now that the uranium mission is over, things are looking up. His claim is completed and he's feeling like himself for the first time in years. Of course, everything starts change when his secrets come out. Secrets he was only just coming to terms with himself.

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out by perishablealex {E}

The itchiness had been working its way under his skin for the better part of the last hour, as he’d been sitting in a classroom for debrief on today’s training. This isn’t supposed to happen. Or: Jake goes into heat unexpectedly, and it's Rooster who shows up at his door and offers to help him through it.

All Over You by chillibeam, Renai_chan {E}

Due to outdated military rules, Jake needs an Alpha (evidenced by their scent on him) to keep flying. When the previous Alpha he had an arrangement with ships out, he asks the next best thing: Bradley. They're rivals, sure, but after the Mission, Bradley's proven himself to be a worthy candidate. It was supposed to be purely transactional--a favor for a favor--but when Jake realizes he might be leading Bradley on, he breaks it off and moves on to someone else. Except that Bradley doesn't want to.

Years of Salt and Sunshine by PVB {E}

His whole life, all Bradley Bradshaw has ever wanted is to join the Navy. But his mother kept him shielded from the darker side of the Navy - especially its conservative views of omegas. Bradley finds this out first hand at twenty-two years old, when he goes to a party at his new CO's office and meets his omega - Jake Seresin, Bradley's summer camp crush. Only it's Jake Prentiss now, with three small kids and another on the way, held captive not by laws but by the oppressive weight of his family, his duties, and the Navy's idea of a good omega.

I get under your skin (deep within, there's my territory) by kezzanza {E}

Jake is broken: when Bradley gets furious, Jake gets hard.

Takin' Care by ReformedTsundere {M}

A little domestic moment between Jake and Bradley amid the waves of Jake's heat.

collide. by SissySpargo {E}

rack this

jake and bradley play some pool, and the cue balls aren't the only things that get sunk as the night wears on.

heat

bradley goes into his rut. jake helps out.

aftermath

jake and bradley deal with the aftermath of their rut and heat.

Norman Fucking Rockwell by oopsiedaisiesbaby

And, Baby, Only Then {E}

“No,” Bradley shook his head, still grinning down at Jake in his arms, held up by Tom’s. “My baby.” “Okay, Baby Goose,” Tom agreed with a chuckle, an amused grin taking over his face. From that moment on, Bradley and Jake were inseparable.

There's Nothing to be Sorry About {T}

“I thought you wanted me to grovel?” Bradley teased. “Yes but no,” Jake whined, seconds away from hitting Bradley with a pillow. “I’m apologizing to you right now.” “Fine,” Bradley sighed, propping his cheek up on his hand so he could continue to smile down at Jake. “You go first.” Jake couldn’t believe fate had chosen this asshole for him.

The Contract by LadyLanera {M}

True Mates--might as well as be True Hell on Earth in Hangman's mind. His didn't want him. That was obvious. The funny thing about True Mates and the bonds that come with it, though, is that they always have a way of coming back to one another eventually. Could his father signing a contract be the way to Hangman's happily ever after--or will it be yet another Hell?

I WIll Follow You Into the Dark by lizbeth_e {E}

In a world where your secondary gender decides the fate of your status in society, Jake is stuck at the bottom of the barrel. Not only is he an Omega, but a male Omega, which is the most rare combination of genders, as well as the one with the least amount of power and status in the world. And now that Jake has turned 25, the age an unmarried and unbonded Omega must now legally find an Alpha to wed or have one chosen for them, Jake is forced to enter into an arranged marriage. Said Alpha ends up being one Bradley Bradshaw, head of the powerful Bradshaw House, connected to a long line of families in power, like the Kazansky House, which makes Jake feel literally and figuratively screwed. Because not only is Bradley sitting at the top of the food chain as an Alpha, and a male one at that, but he is also just about the most attractive living thing that Jake has ever seen, and he's not quite sure just how long he can ignore that. And in a society where Jake basically has no rights, he doesn't even know if he is truly allowed to ignore it, anyway. ...And maybe he doesn't really want to.

Struggle and Fight (Dark Forces in the Clear Moonlight) by caliburn {E}

Since 'The Mission', the Daggers have bonded as a pack - except Hangman who loiters and pines around the edges but won't allow himself the comfort he clearly craves. Bradley has fallen for the prickly, talented, Omega Aviator that saved him, but he can't get him to talk. He would woo him - if he could have him permission. Carole, Maverick and Iceman raised him right - he needs enthusiastic consent for anything other than a game of nine ball. Phoenix is tired of Bradley whining and decides to talk to Jake... but will she just make everything worse?

The mishap in medicine by WaffleToaster {E}

A mistake with his medication causes Jake’s body to show some interesting side effects. Or rather it’s mostly Bradley who finds it interesting while Jake has to suffer for it. Otherwise known as: the weird kinky get-together story of two idiots involving Jake’s pecs and Bradley’s growing obsession with them.

What You Need by trizte {E}

An unexpected heat exposes Jake’s true identity to Bradley.

Baby Bird Learns to Fly by SerenaLight17 {M}

"Baby Bird Learns to Fly" takes off in the aftermath of Jake's turbulent break-up, where an unexpected twist of fate grounds him, leaving him to grapple with life's uncertainties. In an unforeseen turn, two Navy legends become Jake's steadfast anchors, offering him stability and a surrogate family. Fast forward a couple of years, and Jake is summoned back to Top Gun for a covert mission that thrusts him into a world of high-stakes aerial maneuvers, fierce aviator rivalries, and unresolved emotions. Hangman, driven by an unwavering resolve to become the best aviator, finds himself rattled when face-to-face with the man who shattered his heart. Amidst the adrenaline-fueled skies and prideful aviators vying for supremacy, Jake is torn between protecting a long-held secret and the prospect of reopening old wounds.

Danger Zone Chronicles by SamFullbuster {M}

An alternate universe where Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and Tom “Iceman” Kazinsky are serial killers who will stop at nothing to protect those they love. Featuring: Always a pilot Maverick and Photographer Jake who just wants to adopt a dog.

What Your Body’s Sayin’ To Mine by Anonymous {E}

Jake is having an issue on a night out, it’s a simple fix, he just has to go home first. Bradley offers him a ride, then offers him another. Jake takes both of them happily.

Take Me for Who I Am by Renai_chan {E}

Jake, the omega child of Lord Seresin of Austea, is all set to be married to Javy, his best friend who he's been betrothed to since before they were even born. On the day of the wedding, a mysterious man shows up and whisks Jake away to the castle. Jake later learns he is Prince Bradley, the Crown Prince of Miramonte, who intended to take Jake as his own.

Alpha!Jake / Omega!Bradley

Top Gun A/B/O by multishippingtrashfire

Heatstroke {E}

Rooster goes into heat and learns rivalry sometimes works as an amazing basis for a relationship.

Questions that Need Answers {T}

Hangman has to ask Maverick and Ice an important question. And then he has to ask Rooster an even more important question.

Jake to the Rescue by nightfuryy {_}

Bradley finds himself going into heat around a pushy alpha. He calls Jake for help. Fluff happens.

Aphrodite’s Revenge by LadyLanera {M}

Dagger Squad attends a dinner party as guests of honor… and all goes well (mostly) until a certain Captain mixed up his drinks. Thanks, Mavdad!

not a one time thing after all by ForMaverick {E}

A One Time Thing

“I’m fine. Stay the fuck where you are.” Bradley inches closer to the shower wall, the coolness of the wet tiles soothing against his burning skin. “Or better yet, leave.” “You don’t look so good—” “Fuck off.” Bradley closes his eyes again as another wave of pain and nausea sweeps through his body. “I’ll be fine, just leave me the fuck—” “Bradley.” That makes Bradley stop in mid-sentence. Jake using his first name is a rarity. ‘Rooster’ is familiar territory. A teasing ‘Bradshaw’ is not too uncommon either. Hell, sometimes that menace of a man will even drawl out the full ‘Lt. Bradley Bradshaw’ when he’s going for maximum asshattery. But just ‘Bradley’? That’s—that’s new. Bradley exhales shakily. “I’m asking this from the bottom of my heart and as politely as I possibly can right now: please fuck off.” “Are you—” Jake pauses. There’s a sharp inhale. “Dude, are you going into heat?”

maybe this, maybe that

Another moment of awkward silence follows. Jake shuffles a bit more, pursing his lips and looking thoughtful. “Hey, how about you come with me to my family’s vacation home for a few days?” he then says, the suggestion rushing out in a sudden burst of words. “There’s plenty of room, and we could hang out or—” He cuts himself off, giving a one-shouldered nonchalant shrug. “You know.” “Uh-huh, sure.” Bradley makes sure his voice could not possibly drip any more sarcasm. “So we’re going to, what, sit by the fireplace holding hands and sing kumbaya?” Jake rolls his eyes at the remark, then mutters, “You don’t have to be a dick about it.” Bradley stares at him, blinking in disbelief. “Wait, you were being serious?” Jake shrugs again. “I mean, you got someplace better to be?”

meet me in the woods tonight by Caitlin44 {E}

What followed was probably the most emotionally draining hour of Bradley's life since his mother's death. But in the end, the air was cleared between them, and he'd ended up curled into Mav's side, all parts of him once again connected to his surrogate father and his Pack, the connection between them all restored and open wide. He had laid there in almost wonder, exploring the connections he hadn't felt in over ten years, feeling the different links that led to the people he loved, that now formed a pack more extensive than the one he'd left.

Can't take my eyes off of you by FlowersOnMyMind {T}

An Alpha at the Hard Deck won't leave Rooster alone. Hangman steps in. Oh, and did I mention that Hangman is close to his rut?

Call it what you want by Happytree {_}

When ‘don't think just do’ is harder than it sounds. A story of fixing broken bonds, forgiveness, learning to love and flying as fast as you can. Mostly though, a story of Bradley and Jake.

The Octagon by Earthangel_44 {E}

Monday

“Unless you can’t mount me,” Bradley baits in a low voice, “unless you can’t fuck me like you think you can.” Bradley cups Jake through his sweats and squeezes. “Unless I need to find another alpha to fuck me and finish what you started.” AKA: Omega MMA fighter Bradley with Alpha Boxer Jake.

Tuesday

Bradley watches Jake fight for the first time since they’re together.

’til the storm breaks loose by vannral {E}

'”Do you want to stay?” Rooster asks, willing to meet him half-way since Jake can’t get a goddamn word out. Jake lifts his chin, his jaw clenched so hard he might crack his teeth into ground up glass.' In which Bradley’s going into heat, Jake checks up on him and they’re faced with just how much they mean to each other. (+snapshots of their life together afterwards.)

I will love you, dear, forever by FlowersOnMyMind {E}

"Do you have someone to take care of you?" Jake asks. "Are you offering, Seresin?" "Are you asking, Bradshaw?" Or Jake and Bradley help each other through their ruts and heats. Jake pines.

Untrammelled by deuceofgears {E}

In which Rooster only wants to cook on his leave and maybe go on vacation, but there's the small matter of Jake, his impending rut, and Rooster's ability to resist the said rut. Or, Rooster finds out that Jake might be an excellent test case for his maybe-probably-barely there kink.

Shake it off by Happytree {E}

“This is the bit that’s going to piss you off,” Jake warned, “so think of tonight as an apology and a final hurrah okay Roo.” “What the hell did Mav dare you?” Jake took a deep breath as he looked him in the eyes, “No sex for two weeks.” “That asshole!”

A Perch Built for Two by chase_acow {E}

Rooster is well known for keeping his own company, but between Maverick's reemergence and the suicide mission, Hangman manages to weasel his way into Bradley's attention. He's never let an alpha so close to him before, but Hangman might be the best choice - experienced and unlikely to ask for more than Bradley was willing to give. Unfortunately for him, it's Bradley who wants more, and he has no idea how to ask for it.

A Matter of Convenience by bbr1 {E}

From above, clear as a bell, Jake laughs and says, “Baby, you couldn't pay me back in a million years what you owe me.”

Right now I wish you were here with me by FlowersOnMyMind {T}

He doesn't miss his husband's thick, Texan drawl or his stupid smirk. He definitely doesn't miss the Alpha's scent of campfire, leather, and the grass after it rains. He doesn't miss tripping over Jake cowboy boots in the entryway of their home. He doesn't miss seeing Jake's Stetson hat hanging on the hook by the front door. Or the way he teases Bradley, trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't- He misses Jake so much it hurts. Or Jake is sent across the world for a mission that takes much longer than they thought. He and Bradley don't handle it well.

3 months (12 years and 3 months) by goosed {E}

Bradley and Jake meet and spend a decade in each others lives. From strangers to reluctant friends, to lovers and back to strangers again. Or, The When Harry Met Sally AU

Wildcard by Thursday26 {E}

They have survived a mission that needed three miracles. How bad can one long weekend meeting the family be?

Beyond the Mountains by Barnes_Brain {E}

When Jake Seresin rode onto Kazansky’s Stables and Training, he wanted to do the same as every other alpha sent into the town. Keep his head down, find a job, build a semblance of a life until he’s told he can return to the mountains he was raised. He wasn’t expecting to find an old friend, a new mentor, or Bradley Kazansky. Bradley Kazansky hates everything. He hates that he’s moving back to Glacier View. He hates his designation. He hates that he’s not even good enough for his dad. So why should he care if the new blond from the mysterious mountains isn’t interested? He doesn’t want a mate no matter who it is.

Who Helps the Helper? by Nixie_DeAngel {M}

Post Mission, Bradley goes into a sudden heat and Jake helps him through it. But who helps Jake deal with the guilt of assisting his ex-boyfriend, his former omega, through something that is meant to be shared with someone an omega deems worthy?

Alpha!Bradley / Alpha!Jake

One and Only by hngstercity {E}

“C’mon, Bradley.” Oh, now he’s using his real name? Fuck him. “You haven’t had anyone after him.” “I did. You know I did, Maverick. You’re the nosiest Alpha I know, and I know you know any time I’ve slept with someone. You can’t keep your fucking nose out of my business.” And he means it literally, because anytime Bradley had someone over, the next day Pete would always inflate his nostrils to process every single scent that came out of Bradley. Including his hormones, including Jake’s missing ones. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You haven’t had anyone you loved after him. You haven’t mated. If I asked you to talk to me about love, would you tell me about someone that isn’t him?” No. And that’s the fucking problem. - Jake is back in town, and Bradley is forced to face him, their past and their future.

Yes, Alpha by chase_acow {E}

“I’m not looking to get bitched, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, tipping his head back to kill the rest of his bottle. “So, whatever little fantasy you’ve got going on in that little hamster wheel of yours, get over it.” “But, you-” Bradley stuttered to a stop, twisting around to plant his elbow on the bar so he could study Jake better. The man was handsome as ever, with his sharp jaw and long torso leading down to his low-slung pants. “You like it. You like . . . taking it.” “I do,” Jake agreed, sliding his empty bottle onto the counter and then pulling Bradley’s fresh one from his numb fingers to take a drink. “I also like being me. Christ, Rooster, look at me. Why would I change anything about this perfection?”

My Whole Existence Is Flawed by Anonymous {E}

Hangman is an alpha who loves to take it up the ass, no matter how it hurts, he still craves it and how it makes him feel, and craves being treated like an omega. Bonus points for descriptions of how his body differs from an omega and how he works around that, ex. training his hole to take a knot even though he'd be in excruciating pain (but loving it!), filling himself up with lube to simulate slick, etc.

good wood by milestaller {E}

Jake follows his nose and finds Bradley. Things sort of escalate from there.

I'll Be Right Here With You by Janie94 {E}

After Hangman has saved Rooster and Maverick from the fifth gen plane and they land back on the tarmac, Rooster goes into an unexpected rut. The last person he should want in this moment is another Alpha, least of all Hangman.

Alpha!Bradley / Beta!Jake

Next Size Up by emseebeans {E}

After much needling and cajoling from Jake, Bradley agrees to knot him for the first time.

Omega!Bradley / Beta!Jake

secrets I keep to keep you by ginnydear {E}

(Omega with Beta characteristics!Bradley/Beta with Omega characteristics!Jake)

They've now been on several dates that always end the same - a kiss that starts to get heated before Bradley pulls away and wishes Jake a good night. - or, bradley and jake, figuring out their dynamic.

#Omegaverse Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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dalliansss · 5 months

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The next Fëanorian to be stunned to find out Finrod had arrived during the night in Amon Ereb was Amras. Amras had come from inspecting the vicinity of their lands with some of the patrols, checking to see if the ground had not softened too much and where, and see if any families both of Eldar and Edain needed aid with any possible damages wrought onto their properties and homesteads because of the downpour. Some families needed aid with new roofing materials, but so far the tallies were doing good – they suffered no casualties and the floods ebbed rather quickly.

Breakfast was already underway when Amras returned – and there in the kitchen, his elder brothers were seated, Finrod among them, helping himself to his second big bowl of Turko’s chicken porridge.

“Ingoldo?” Amras blurted out, just to be sure his eyes didn’t deceive him. “Amras, good morning. I’m camping out here for some days, worry not, just enough to….stabilize myself,” Finrod says, looking up from his porridge and looking mournful.

Which was terribly disconcerting. For as long as Amras and Amrod could remember, their older cousin Findaráto Ingoldo had been the epitome of bright cheer and joyous laughter. Maglor – well, Maglor was the melancholic one, Fingon the straight-laced one – but Finrod – Finrod was the one who broke into song whatever task he might do, and then danced besides, and the entire room would be partying with him even before they knew what exactly hit them. The Finrod sitting in his and Amrod’s kitchen looked terribly sad, and upset, and even his blond curls were looking rather limp and unkempt. Even his radiance dimmed a little – right now, he was the pale sunlight after a terrible storm, or a blizzard.

“Of…of course, Ingoldo,” said Amras. “Has anyone sent a letter to Nelyo already?” He looked around at his brothers as he sat in his customary place across from his twin brother.

“I have written to Himring,” said Curufin brusquely. “On the fastest messenger hawk we can spare. Before the week’s end Nelyo should be here.”

“So,” said Celegorm as he filled Finrod’s bowl for the third time. “Are you going to tell us what happened and who is involved? I can ready my bow and arrow and spears. My hounds haven’t run down screaming, intelligent prey in a while.”

“I can sharpen my knives,” Curufin added.

“I say bonfire,” said Amrod. “Massive bonfire, throw whoever it is in the flames.”

Their words at least managed to accomplish their common goal: coax a laugh from Finrod. The golden Elda looked at all his cousins, smiling gratefully. “There’s no need to murder for me. I just want to have Nelyo to talk to, and he’ll make me see sense as always, and then I’ll be alright. Thank you – for…for letting me stay.”

“Nonsense!” said Turko. “Of course you can go here anytime!” “Are you sure about that refusal of murder?” Curufin narrowed his eyes dubiously. “I’ll make kindling for the bonfire ready, we might need it,” said Amrod. “Of course you’re always welcome in Amon Ereb,” said Amras.

Huan padded over, and with a soft whine, rested his massive head on Finrod’s lap. The golden elf’s smile grew, and he gave Huan an appreciative pet and kissed the hound’s wet, twitching nose.

[Doom Gloom and Maeglin / AO3]

@skaelds

#silmarillion #collab fanfic #collab writing #my drabs #finrod #finrod felagund #maeglin #maeglin lomion

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deathbyoctopi · 2 years

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The year is finished, so it is time to look back and go through the best AO3 treasures I found these last 12 months!! And since XueXiao has been the bane of my existence ever since i discovered it, I decided to make a top 10 list of them!

So these are (in no particular order) my favourite (song)xuexiao fics:

- the backyard is full of bones by @veliseraptor A thoroughly enjoyable what-if with Xiao Xingchen being a bit smarter about the wounded man he found. Extremely well paced and written, it eases into the enemies-to-lovers dynamic perfectly, and it depicts characters so believable and well-rounded that it practically feels like canon.

- I promised you a garden by @lady-of-the-lotus A short snippet into an alternate timeline where Song Lan’s consciousness is trapped in a paperman and forced to bear witness to the yizhuang’s (very sexy) domestic life. Cute and frustrating and very, very satisfying. (One of those where Song Lan’s not having a good time, which might be one of my favourite tags).

- Now that I see you by @10holmes Don’t usually go with unfinished projects, but this one is an absolute treasure which’d need to work very hard to go awry, so of course I’ll have it here. We have a double canon divergence with Not Blind!Xiao Xingchen, and Amnesiac!Xue Yang!! Which make for a delightfully angsty relationship as they both tiptoe around each other, all while battling with internal turmoil, conflicting morals and a misplaced low sense of worth. A fic absolutely worth keeping track of.

- The prisoner of Jinlintai by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior A rather recent project that had us in tethers for a month and a half (!) with the very sexy prompt of Xiao Xingchen being framed and arrested by the Jin, while a certain guest disciple with a sweet tooth was still around... Another enemies-to-lovers with a wonderfully natural evolution in their relationship, with the extra treat of a rich and entertaining world building that could easily sprout a few spin-offs.

- Nothing but a way of shading blood by @veilchenjaeger This one is very recent, but it shoot up to my top 10 immediately, both for the marvelous writing style and the perfect way they executed the prompt. It provides just the right amount of anguish in Xiao Xingchen, before and after certain discoveries are made, and the diplomacy game with Jin Guangyao and his minion just adds an extra flavour in an already spicy mix.

- Heaven has a road but no one walks it by @silvysartfulness The second (and last) ongoing project here, but just as deserving of the spot. This book-sized treasure is a long journey of (re)discovery, of a slowly kindling relationship with wonderful twists and turns. The slow pace balances out perfectly with some intense (and, in one occasion, thriller-like) action scenes. Also, it was the fic that made me see SongXueXiao with a more favourable opinion.

- lie back and let me unlock you by @veliseraptor A short and extremely sexy xuexiao roll in the hay, with the amazing prompt of Xiao Xingchen being (quite shamefully) aroused at the thought of his old enemy Xue Yang, and good ol’ Chengmei offering to rolplay. The result is even more unbelievable that what you can imagine!

- On the topic of cold by @andreri25 A cute little snippet in the early days at Yi City, where Xiao Xingchen almost dies from hypothermia and Xue Yang has to keep him warm. So what if he takes advantatge? Daozhang won’t remember, and he does need some hot friction after all! It’s wicked and cute in equal parts, because Xue Yang starts off really concerned (even if he wouldn’t admit it or know why, really) but changes gears when the danger is over...

- Final victory by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior A funny concept very well executed, particularly in the emotional response both Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang give at the different turns of the plot. Daozhang discovers that his old enemy is in town, killing people, and after recovering from the surprise, Chengmei offers his help to hunt him down. Cue some well-placed deceit and a cruelly cute happy ending.

- it hurts at first (but it ain’t that bad) by @veliseraptor Yet another change in dynamics with Xiao Xingchen discovering his mysterious friend’s identity, if only this time because Xue Yang flat-out tells him (well, he thought he was done for anyways). What follows is a wonderful deluge of arguments, moral dilemmas and Xue Yang’s particular brand of twisted social logic that allow a deeper (and less deadly) reprise of their last canon conversation. Just lovely.

Which one of those I like best? I don’t know. I don’t care! They are all fantastic.

AND, since this year was also the first I started actually writing some original content, and not only devouring other artists amazing works, lemme put them here as well >w<

- Phantom Threat The foregone conclusion of all the fix-its that have xuexiao become an item (sans hidden identities, that is), in which Song Lan arrives at Yi City and does what he should have done in canon and talks directly with Xiao Xingchen, to reveal the terrible secret... which he already knows about.

- To carry a bit of yesterday A small slice of life in the Three Year Bliss, where Xiao Xingchen wants a family portrait and despite being quite contrary to the idea, both a-Qing and Xue Yang end up complying. It has amazing art by @wrathyforest, too!! ^-^

AND FINALLY, just a few non-xuexiao fics I also loved to the moon and back, but have little-to-no connection other than belonging to the mxtx universe.

- You’re stuck with me by LikeAFlamingKiss_Consume A delightful jadecest with dark!Lan Xichen (well, dark!Everyone and their mother, it’s a fucked up AU) and a reluctantly horny Lan Zhan.

- Blood array by @giraffeter Though it could technically be a xuexiao fic, the actual fucking here is between Demonic Gremlin Team Extraordinaire! Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian, sooo... doesn’t count. The fic is entertaining, very sexy and their interaction is marvelous to follow!

- Despite warning signs by @extrapenguin A surprisingly cute and light-hearted Xue Yang/Mo Xuanyu little treat, from their days as Jin disciples. A happier alternative reality for both of them, with fluff and smut in equal parts, which never fails to make me smile.

- Qi Rong’s day off by @ahintofblue Too bad the only tgcf fic to make the cut is a very, very nsfw alternate outcome of the mausoleum scene from book 2, but what can I do? The writing’s so smooth and engaging, it’s rough and cruel and I loved every single minute of it.

I have the gnawing feeling I’m still forgetting something, either here or in the xuexiao part... but until I discover the way to check which fics I left kudos in, I either go through an ocean of titles from my ao3 history page (that won’t even let me filter!!!) or I just wait for my two braincells to click one day. Oh, well!

Thanks for reading, and to all writers, THANKS FOR WRITING!!! I love you all. Have a happy new year!

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #ao3 #xuexiao #thank gods for ao3 and every single one of its writers #mdzs fics #fanfic review #the most PRECIOUS THINGS I've read this year #octopi reviews #tgcf #heavenly official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #(yes. the last one ^^U)#mdzs recs #fanfic recs #rec list

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thebest-medicine · 1 year

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[read on ao3]

“You know, you really should smile more.” King says, leaning in, drinking in the subtle smile on Caleb’s face. “Laugh more really.” A smile, that is suddenly drawn into a tighter line as a blush creeps up Caleb’s cheeks. Kingsley narrows his eyes a little as Caleb twitches a bit, awkwardly. “What?” He tilts his head, regarding him.

There’s an ember of a giddy feeling that has been building up in Kingsley’s stomach throughout this evening’s interaction (and really, any time he and Caleb have gotten close). When Caleb looks at him, that ember begins to flicker to life, his metaphorical kindling igniting - buzzing, flipping, aching to push the wizard into a little more lightness. But, Caleb can’t maintain eye contact when he tries to open his mouth to explain. “N-Nothing. I was just remembering- thinking of, um…”

Kingsley feels something slightly uncomfortable squirm in his chest. “Something… Molly used to do?”

“Not just him.” Caleb admits lightheartedly, and Kingsley can see him fighting off a smile again. “But yes, everyone really. They really had a knack for…” He cuts himself off, biting back the growing smile.

Okay. Yes, Kingsley thinks, he will chase after whatever thread will get Caleb closer to smiling.

The tiefling leans in closer, reaches out a hand toward Caleb, who shrinks back just a hair, twitching when Kingsley enters his personal bubble. King lays a hand on his wrist, thumb gently padding over the skin. “Tell me?” He smiles and tries to catch Caleb’s eyes again.

He sees Caleb’s eyes widening for a moment before the wizard is reining it in on instinct. Caleb looks all the way away from him. His eyes shut for a second and he lets out a genuine huff of a laugh. “You already know how to ruffle feathers, in a different way than Molly did, but…” Caleb bumps shoulders with King. “I don’t know if it’s a smart move on my part to give you more ways to do so.”

Caleb’s shying away with a chuckle before Kingsley can lean into the touch. King leans forward, craning his neck around and placing a hand on Caleb’s knee. “Hey.” He hopes his expression looks sweet and kind and innocent. Caleb’s leg jumps slightly at the contact. Kingsley studies the blush rising on his cheeks, and finds himself smirking.

Caleb turns his head toward him a bit. “Perhaps,” He looks the tiefling up and down. “I could show you.”

Kingsley raises an eyebrow just as Caleb reaches forward and, mirroring him, places a hand on King’s knee. He watches the wizard curiously, when suddenly there’s a squeeze. Then another, more deliberate.

Kingsley grins, squirming slightly as the bubbling feeling inside of him boils over, filling him with a silly giddiness. “Oh.” He twitches his leg at another pinch. “I’m so glad you showed me.” He lets out a reverent sigh. “Caleb, you are so dead.”

“Maybe, once you stop laughing long enough to get your hands on me.”

Then Caleb is on him, and Kingsley is so unprepared for it that he rocks back under the minimal weight of the wizard. Fingers scribble against his body and find all the worst and most sensitive places with ease. Kingsley would love to see Caleb in this position, all blushes and squirming and laughter, but this is a pretty fucking wonderful way to spend the afternoon regardless.

#fluff #THEYRE CUTE YOUR HONOR. EVERY VERSION OF PURPLE TIEF LOVES CALEB OK #ticklish!kingsley #critickle role #ticklish!caleb #drabbles #mine #critical role #widoking #widomauk #tickling #tickle fic #ficlet #Caleb widogast #kingsley tealeaf #widoleaf #don’t think I posted this on tumblr but it’s been on ao3 for a couple weeks #flooooooooofiness #might have to elaborate on this further

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vivilove-jonsa · 1 year

Note

I know you and Amymel are both publishing your OG stuff now. How is that going for you both? And do you have any tips for someone who might want to do that sort of thing?

Thanks so much for the ask, Anon. I mentioned it to @amymel86 and, while we're keeping our pen names relatively private, we truly appreciate you checking in with us :)

How's it going? It's going great! We're both thrilled to making money off writing smutty romance 🤣. To quote Amy, 'Sex sells, girlies.' But I'll add that the swoony, romantic, buttery goodness is what keeps readers coming back for more.

Tips? You got it! I'm going to put them under the cut for those who are interested but I'll preface this with the following - we are writing romance novels (primarily as eBooks) that we're self-publishing on Amazon. If you want to be the next Hemingway or Virginia Woolf, that's awesome but our route might not be your route...

Tips for self-publishing romance on the Zon and making BANK:

First off, research. Read, read, read a genre that interests you. What's killing it in the rankings? What's not? What are readers looking for?

Drill it down to a specific niche and find the tropes that work best with it. Unlike with fanfic, you will not make a killing as a newbie writer switching widely between genres and niches. Your Sweet and Clean Christian Western Romance might be fantastic but your fans won't be delighted if you follow it up with an Erotic Dark Mafia Romance. There is so much out there! Sports Romance, Regency, Paranormal, Small-Town, Billionaire, Bikers, Mountain Man... go find yourself a new book boyfriend. Choose the heat level you're comfortable with. There are readers for all levels.

But, find something that appeals to you and stick with it for the time being, learn the ins and outs but make sure it's something you can see yourself writing. Don't choose Reverse Harem or Shifter Romance simply because they're popular if you can't stand reading them. You're setting yourself up for failure that way.

Second, do a little light craft book reading. For romance, I highly recommend Romancing the Beat by Gwen Hayes and 7 Figure Fiction by T. Taylor as a starting point.

Join an indie author's discord group for important tips and stuff that you might wind up paying to learn from others. It's free and you can choose what's worth retaining and what's not. The one Amy lured me to last year is AMAZING and I've picked up so much information/resources that I never would've known about stumbling around on my own.

Pick a pen name. Do not write under your actual name. You do not want your grandma reading your book. Or maybe you do but you might not want your boss or ex or neighbor reading it. Make sure it's not a claimed pen name. Google it, check Amazon, etc.

Next one is the hard part... write a book. Dream up your story, write down those 'moments' that come to mind (you won't remember them all otherwise) and outline that sucker. Then, WRITE IT. Which sounds impossible but it's not. Most full-length romance novels fall between 60 to 85k words. There are soooooo many fanfics that are longer than that. Take a deep breath. It's doable.

The must-dos for your first book:

Think it up, write down what tropes you're looking at using, outline (at least a little) and write it. I made that sound so easy, didn't I?

2. Edit, edit, edit. You don't have to pay an editor or copywriter - I have not so far - but, for the love of God, don't release something riddled with typos or full of purple prose. Streamline it, make it page-turning goodness readers have a hard time putting down. Throw it in grammarly and spellcheck the bejesus out of it.

3. Format it using a free site like Reedsy or Kindle Create from Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP). All that lovely spacing we enjoy doing on Ao3? That will not fly here. It's going to look like an actual book... because it is!

4. Make a cover or get one made. Look at what sells in your niche and copy it. You want to be an outlier? Wait until you're bringing in 50k a month to set the trends. Otherwise, you'll just be passed up. How much work it is can be niche dependent. Fantasy or Sci-Fi Romance might require a lot of talent to get the right look. Contemporary? Easy by comparison. GIMP or Photo Shop work great but there's a learning curve. Also, I recommend Deposit Photos or similar sites for photos/model shots. Don't steal photos off the internet for something you're selling. That will get you in hot water. Remember your cover is the first thing readers see and it needs to sell what you're offering.

5. Write the blurb. Some writers do this first but I am not one of them. It's HARD. However, I cannot stress how important this is to get someone to give your book a look, second only to the cover. It's 100 to 200 words to tell people why they absolutely have to read it! Don't do a summary of the book either. Feed them tropes, give it a hooky intro, draw them in like flies with honey.

6. Get ARCs (Advanced Reader Copy reviews) through a site like Booksprout or SM like Author Facebook groups. It'll get your book in front of eyes and it's lovely having a bit of feedback and some shiny 4 and 5 star reviews queued and ready when you publish.

7. PUBLISH IT. Flip that pancake as we say in the discord group I'm in. Serve it up, see who's biting and keep that griddle hot to make the next one. It will be even better.

And remember, this book will probably not be THE BOOK. And your first pen name will probably not be the one you retire on. It's okay. Every book will teach you something new about who you are as a writer. You'll grow, you'll get better. I'd rather publish a dozen books that are okay if I'm improving than talk about the ONE I'm going to write someday. It's totally worth giving it a whirl.

For more direct tips, feel free to send specific asks. I'm happy to help anytime :)

#writing #romance writing #romance novels #writing asks #writer tips #self publishing #anon ask #vivi rambles

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satanicspeaks · 9 months

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What I want to know about The Expanse world is how is data storage being managed? If there is that many people across our solar system (and beyond) then where is all the data being stored and how?

This also applies to other sci-fi media. Currently we are so used to places hosting data that it’s become an after thought (until AO3 goes down or someone remembers they don’t actually own a copy of the e-book they bought on kindle).

In The Expanse there are terminals, similar to phones but can do a lot more, where anyone can log in to a terminal with their identifier and then it has all their messages and things they need. So instead of the phone number system we have it’s more like logging in to a universal Facebook. That raises some security issues but not the point here.

By making it a Facebook type system then the person also doesn’t own their own data. It’s not solely stored on their device. There are tech in that world where data is only stored on one thing, like our USB’s, but that’s not the standard because there’s a network. For there to be a network there must be a place to connect it all to.

So, given what happens in book 6 (no spoilers here dw) I reckon it’s stored in the belt, somewhere in vacuum/space, on Luna, or on several of the moons. Reasoning is that reduces a lot of natural heat data servers would have to deal with, reduces natural environment problems. It would absolutely be several locations, sole locations are a serious liability, and also with how much emphasis the series puts on light delay data/communications from one to another that would cause bigger issues.

As I type this I just realised: each station/location would need to have some level of a local copy. There were times that characters quickly set up a new terminal within a minute, and functionally waiting long periods is just bad business.

This likely isn’t something the author considered for the series, because killing or taking data servers hostage would be a way to fuck everyone over. Hence strengthening to the idea that data storage is in *a lot* of locations, making it hard to do a full take over.

There is also some programming elements that make me ‘hmmm’, especially season 1 of the Tv series where a sole person is trying to crack complicated encryption on a time crunch. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a hobby programmer at most, my area is UX, so I don’t know if that’s truely effective. But from how over stated the complexity is it would make more sense to have several people on it (buuut of course story wise it’s cooler if one person can crack the really complicated Martian encryption).

I do wish the TV series showed Naomi as a programmer too, not just electrical and systems engineer. Maybe it’ll pop up later, I can see why they don’t with wanting a more visual way to show what she’s doing, but it feels like it understates her skills and what she can actually do.

Ty for reading my ramble if you made it this far. There’s practically no fandom for this series so mutuals can just second hand enjoy this

#the expanse #leviathan wakes #James s.a Corey #naomi nagata #james holden #amos burton #alex kamal #aw fuck as I was looking Alex’s last name up I got spoilers. damn #satanic speaks #tag: the expanse #tag: books #tag: tv series

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iambutmortal · 1 year

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Chapter 4 for @elucienweekofficial Day 5: Sunshine

Summary: When Elain signs the divorce papers she’s sure she’s done with Lucien Vanserra. Until they’re offered the chance to recreate their honeymoon as a part of her job. For free. But reliving all those memories with Lucien proves leaving may be more difficult than she thought.

Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I had a bit of a brain crash yesterday, so this was supposed to be for day four. I'm either going to post three chapters in the next two days, or two longer chapters to make up for it, sorry.

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

True to Lucien’s word, Elain was confined to the bed for overnight, while he ran around actin as a dutiful nursemaid and she grumbled and complained.

“I don’t think laying under an umbrella outside is going to change anything,” Elain moaned, for what felt like the thousandth time. “And I’m sick of this room.”

“Too bad,” Lucien said, handing her a mug of tea. “Interview is in three hours and you’re not stepping foot outside until then.”

“But—”

“Nope,” Lucien said. “And both Nesta and Cassian agreed before you start complaining about how mean I am. You need rest.”

Elain pouted, but took a sip of her tea. She felt the warmth work its way down her throat, and was relieved to find the sip didn’t leave her running to the bathroom. After a night of sleep her stomach had settled considerably, but she would much rather play it safe than sorry.

“Can I at least start to get ready?”

Lucien huffed and glanced down at his phone. “Give it another twenty minutes. I’ll get you a piece of toast to gnaw on.”

Elain muttered something rude at him, but grabbed the kindle from where she’d discarded it across the bed. She was still only halfway through the book she’d started on the plane, and the heroine had ended up in a small town. With her ex. Really it was getting far too realistic for her tastes.

Lucien, cruel warden, did relent when he came back and saw Elain was managed to keep the bread down.

“Go take a shower.”

Elain practically bounded out of bed, slamming the door on him.

“But sit down when you blow dry your hair,” he shouted at the wood.

Elain opened the door a crack, just enough to show him her middle finger.

Lucien’s laughter followed her, something warm burning in her chest. She did concede to sit on the bed to do her hair, definitely for Lucien and not because she felt a little light headed after standing on her feet for too long.

“Ready,” Lucien asked, when the clock hit four. He’d thrown on a pale yellow polo shirt and stiff tan pants, to match the white and yellow flowered sundress Elain had pulled out to wear. His hair was back in a neat ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame his face.

“Do we look home and garden approved?” Elain asked, sticking the last bobby pin in her hair. She’d done her best appropriation of beach waves, pinning the front sections gracefully behind her ears.

Cassian wasn’t officially on the job as photographer, but image had more power than anything in an interview.

“We’d fit right in Cassian’s magazine,” Lucien said, offering her a hand.

Elain took it, letting him pull her to her feet. And then held it as they walked through the resorts, savoring the feeling of calluses earned from the gym against her fingertips. Outside the air was so humid she could feel her hair curling in rebellion, frizzing around her temples. She cursed herself for not bringing anything to tame it with.

She reached up a hand to try and smooth it down.

“Your hair looks fine,” Lucien whispered, before throwing open the door to the conference room they’d be using.

Elain was almost instantly wrapped in a hug. “Oh my gosh it’s been so long,” gushed Mor, giving Elain a squeeze before pulling back to embrace Lucien.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Elain said. She had met Rhys’ cousin a handful of times, at the wedding and a few dinners around the holidays, whenever she could come from New York and had always liked the blonde woman. They’d had several long conversations over coffee on the latest fashion trends, or whatever celebrity was currently acting like a fool.

“I wasn’t,” Mor said. “But when I heard Viviane had you as an assignment I made her switch. She’s currently in Brazil covering fashion week.”

“That’s a hell of a trade on her part,” Lucien said, lacing his fingers with Elain’s and leading them over to the makeshift interview space set up. Three chairs, for Elain, Lucien, and Cassian, who was joining them later, stood across from the one Mor had already draped her red purse across.

“But I get to see you guys,” Mor replied, sweeping elegantly into her seat. “So I think I got the better deal.” She reached into her purse to pull out a small notebook and pen, both matching red, and flipped to an open page. “So,” she said, clicking the pen. “How are things going?”

“Good,” Elain squeaked.

Mor’s eyebrows arched dangerously close to her hairline. “Just good? A sharp decline from Christmas then.”

Elain could feel her face burning under the scrutiny.

Lucien tightened his grip on her hand, placing it on top of his thigh. “We’re in paradise, all expenses paid, with each other. What could be wrong?” His voice was innocently neutral, a perfect deflection of the question. God he would make such a good politician.

Mor tilted her head, golden blonde hair sliding over her shoulder in a silky sheet. “Alright, so what makes here paradise?”

“It was the first place we went while being married,” Elain said, meeting Mor’s brown eyes. “So it’s always going to have good memories associated with it.”

Mor tapped her pen against the notepad. “Bad answer. You could have stayed anywhere after your wedding. Why here?”

“Because I’ve always loved the beach,” Elain admitted. “We only got to go twice growing up because of money and both times it was magical seeing that much open water. Lucien took me to Santa Monica for our second date, so it only made sense to come to a beach for our honeymoon.”

Mor was nodding along to her story, scribbling furiously with her pen. “And Lucien? Why this resort?”

He cleared his throat. “I like to see Elain happy. And she never stopped smiling on our honeymoon.”

Mor gave a disapproving hum and Elain was reminded of why Mor was the top of the top in the industry. Every other interviewer would have gushed over that answer, and how romantic it was.

“And I didn’t get the chance to make a lot of good memories as a child,” Lucien continued after a moment. Because he’d grown up with his step father, Beron, who was by all accounts horrible. “So anytime I get to see someone I love happy I get a strong attachment to the place.”

“And how do you feel being back now?”

“It’s…different,” Elain said. Mor gestured for her to go on. “After three years we’re in a new place in our relationship retreading someplace old.”

“New good or new bad?” Mor asked.

“Just new,” Lucien answered quickly.

“So bad.” Mor underlined something on her notepad. “Elaborate.”

“It’s called a honeymoon period for, I don’t think people can be expected to stay in it forever,” Elain said defensively. “Not three years after the actual honeymoon.”

“Feyre and Rhys are still in theirs.”

“They’re the exception,” Elain said. “The rest of us don’t live in a fairytale.”

“Hard truth for a story about a fairytale honeymoon,” Mor said softly.

Elain was saved from responding by a knock on the door.

“Just a minute,” Mor called.

Cassian walked in anyway. “You’d leave me in the hall like a dog? I’m wounded.”

Mor rolled her eyes, but stood to press a kiss to his cheeks. “I missed you, you big oaf,” she said.

“Move back to LA then,” Cassian begged, taking the third seat. “Then I’ll never leave you alone.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Mor flipped to a fresh page. “We’ll come back to that conversation later.” She gave Elain a pointed look. “For now, Cassian, what’s the best part of working here?”

Cassian launched into a spirited discussion about the lighting and angles the resort offered, how he framed his shots, and what he was planning tomorrow when they went into the jungle.

“A lot of houses today are sharp angles,” he finished, “which is interesting, how do you make set shapes look dynamic, but this is just so different and it’s really pushing me to the limits.”

“Amazing,” Mor muttered. She looked up. “Anything to add, Nesta?”

Elain turned around to see her sister standing in the doorway. She’d been so engrossed in Cassian’s explanation about his work she hadn’t noticed her arrival.

Nesta cleared her throat. “I hadn’t quite realized how much work Cassian put into this, it’s nice to know I can trust my sister to him. I always thought this was just some blow off beach job for him.”

Cassian shook his head. “It was never a blow off job, Nes. None of them were.”

Nesta looked the most regretful Elain had ever seen her.

“So,” Mor said, “then what is it like to work with Cassian?”

Lucien was nice enough to take that question, gushing about how good of a director Cassian was while Cassian looked sheepishly pleased with himself.

Elain watched over his shoulder as Nesta slipped out of the doorway and back into the hall, with one final look towards Cassian, and made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

Mor worked her way through several more questions, teasing answers out of Elain, Lucien, and Cassian, until Cassian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with a frown, scanning the message before quickly typing out a response.

“Is there a problem?” Mor asked.

“Sorry,” Cassian said apologetically, setting the phone down face first on the chair arm. Only to pick it right back up when it buzzed again. “I sent some concept photos in and they’re just now getting back to me.”

Mor nodded, waving for him to carry on, and turned back to Lucien to discuss what his possible political career held. Cassian was still typing, his frown deepening.

Elain leaned towards him. “What’s wrong,” she hissed.

Cassian startled. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it about what happened yesterday?” Elain asked, feeling guilty all over again.

Cassian shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. It’s something I’ll handle.”

His phone rang and he sighed deeply. “I have to take this,” he whispered, sliding out of the room.

Mor and Lucien were still deep in conversation, and Elain made the split second decision to follow Cassian out. She had no doubt it was about yesterday, and had every intention of begging for forgiveness to the producers.

She made sure to shut the door behind her, lest Lucien find out and chastise her for making it her responsibility.

Cassian was pacing the hall, agitated. “I’m not doing it,” Cassian snarled at whoever was on the other end of the line. “So tell them to shove it.” A long pause. “What do you want me to say? Sorry your face looks like that, I'm only photographing the other side from now on?”

White hot anger shot through Elain at the words. She’d never quite understood the concept of seeing red before now, but her body felt like it was on fire. She cleared her throat, catching Cassian’s attention, and motioned for him to mute the phone.

“Tell them I’ll walk,” Elain said. “I’ll walk and they’ll have none of their photos then if they want to say a single thing about Lucien.”

“Elain—”

“And tell them that I’ll also make sure everyone knows what ablest assholes they are.”

“I can’t—”

“Tell them,” Elain ground out.

Cassian unmuted the phone and put it on speaker. “It’s going to be a no from Ms. Vanserra on retaking from a different angle.”

“Tell Ms. Vanserra she’s not the one in charge of this shoot.”

Elain cleared her throat. “Well Ms. Vanserra would like to remind everyone that her brother in law is Rhysand Night, and I’m sure he has a magazine that would love to cover what Cosmopolitan had to say about people with facial scarring.”

Elain could almost hear silent panic on the other end of the line. Because Rhys’ dad had given him full control over their media empire, and he was currently trying to expand into the fashion space. Something Elain was sure had the executives on the line very, very worried.

“I think there’s been a miscommunication,” said a voice through the speakers after a pregnant pause. “We just wanted to make sure Cassian was capturing a full range photos from all perspectives. To make sure he wasn’t missing something special”

“I think Cassian’s photos are very special,” Elain countered. “Especially with the framing he chose to use.”

Another long pause. “Looking at them again, I think you might be right, Ms. Vanserra.”

“I know,” Elain said, her tone far too prissy for any model. There went her reputation for being easy to work with. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

Cassian took the phone off speaker to say a few farewell remarks and then hung up.

“This is a new side of you, El,” he said.

Elain flushed. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I like it.” Cassian swung open the door. “Besides, knowing your sisters I shouldn’t be shocked.”

They both took their seats. Mor didn’t miss a beat, shifting her attention back onto Cassian to ask about the logistics of planning a shoot like this.

“All good?” Lucien whispered as soon as Elain sat down.

Elain smiled weakly. “Peachy.”

“Okay,” Mor said, slamming her notebook shut. “That’s all I need for now.”

“Really?” Elain asked.

“No, but I have a dinner reservation with Cassian in twenty minutes,” she said with a wink. “And I have both your emails if you need anything else.”

“Plus you two also have a dinner to get to,” Cassian added.

“Do we?” Lucien asked slyly.

“A little treat from us,” Mor said. “For putting up with my questions. And yes, what you have on is fine.”

“Now go,” Cassian said, shooing them off. “Do something fun that’s not photographed.”

“Roger,” Lucien said, taking Elain’s hand and pulling her out of the room. Elain had a sneaking suspicion Lucien was in on it as he led her straight to the beachside restaurant in the resort and to a table overlooking the sea, candles already lit. The same one they’d sat at on the second night of their honeymoon.

“You know,” he said after they sat, “you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Elain said, mortified.

Lucien shrugged. “You don’t need to spare me. I already knew they were thinking it.”

“They shouldn’t have been,” Elain muttered. “Assholes.”

“See,” Lucien leaned back in his chair. “Sexy.”

“And it’s not sparing you it’s—” Elain searched for the word.

“Sparing.”

Elain sighed. “Okay maybe a little.”

“You can tell me things,” Lucien said, eyes imploring.

Elain smiled at him weakly. “It’s just hard for me sometimes,” she admitted. “I don’t want to rock the boat.”

“Calm waters are boring. Speaking of which,” Lucien’s eyes gleamed, “how long after dinner will it take for Nesta to find Cassian alone somewhere.”

Elain choked. “Oh god, you don’t think—” Lucien raised an eyebrow. “An hour, max.”

He snorted. “Ten dollars says he leaves halfway through dinner.”

“Twenty says he tries and Mor makes him wait.”

Lucien held out his hand. “Deal.” They shook on it. Their hands hung suspended, neither willing to let go. Lucien’s thumb ran down Elain’s skin, causing her to shiver slightly. It felt like middle school all over again, with how agitated she was getting by mere contact with Lucien. My romantic life has reverted to hand holding. Perfect.

“Dinner menu?” asked the waiter, appearing with copies in arm.

Elain went to drop Lucien’s hand but he tightened his grip, resting their hands atop the table. Another stroke of his thumb.

“We’ll take whatever you recommend,” he said, not looking at the waiter. His gaze was focused entirely on Elain, with an intensity that made her feel like she was burning.

“Of course sir,” said the waiter before disappearing.

“Your stomach feel okay?” Lucien asked.

Elain nodded. “I’m starving honestly. I think I could eat anything you put in front of me.”

“Good,” Lucien admitted. “Because I have no clue what I just asked for.”

Elain feigned shock. “And I thought you were so smooth too.”

“I aim to impress.”

Thankfully, the waiter had an excellent pallet, and the evening passed quickly, the two of them talking so easily Elain could almost convince herself the last couple months weren’t real. That this was their relationship.

And on the way out of the restaurant Lucien slid an arm around Elain’s shoulders. She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest. “You don’t have to set the pillow wall up tonight if you don’t want to.”

“Trust us to behave ourselves then?”

Elain hummed. “We’re both adults aren’t we.”

“I do want to do very adult things to you, yes,” Lucien said.

“That’s not what I meant,” Elain protested, smacking his chest.

Lucien pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know. But let me have my fun.”

Elain rolled her eyes, but didn’t pull away.

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