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happy74827 · 10 months

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Shadow Knight

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: One thing to know about Joe, is that he’d do anything to protect you. Regardless if you want him to or not.

WC: 2776

Category: Hurt/Comfort [TW — Joe]

Finally wrote a Joe Goldberg fic. My friend begged me to write him so I did (you’re welcome @summerrivera777777). I really don’t know what else to say… so enjoy!

『••✎••』

You were his. That’s all Joe cared about in his head. He thought of you and only you.

He remembered that night after your first kiss. You had told him that you loved him. It was a warm summer night. It had been dark, but the stars were shining so brightly that the moonlight shone through the window. You had made him feel things.

It was such a new feeling.

It was scary but exhilarating. This wasn’t like Beck or Love. It was different. It was amazing.

He wanted you, and he was willing to do anything to keep you.

When he found out about your annoying pest of a neighbor, he had been a bit put off at first. How dare he come in and try to woo you from under his nose? He couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the short, small, wiry guy being able to compete with his stature. Joe clearly outranked him, and he wanted to make it known.

It started off as a little harmless fun, a way for him to see what this guy was capable of. A way for him to test your limits and then go even further.

Joe knew how to push the right buttons. And it wasn't long before he had him right where he wanted him.

Now, he would be able to protect you. You didn't have to worry about that scrawny little bastard hurting you anymore. Joe would take care of you. He was so good to you and would continue to be so. He was yours.

He would keep you safe from all the dangers that lurked in the world. He had found himself wanting to help you in that way, protect you, provide for you. He could feel it. He wanted you to depend on him, and he was eager for that moment to come.

For now, all he wanted to do was watch. He wanted to watch this short little guy attempt to steal his girl from under his nose. He wanted to watch the pathetic creature get on his knees and beg. He wanted to see you tell him to fuck off and then run back into his arms. He wanted to watch you beg him to take care of you.

“Oh, Joe,” you had whimpered against his lips. He held you closer, keeping you safe and close. Your arms snaked around his neck, holding him tight to you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, allowing him to hold you up.

He felt so big and strong against you. He always felt so strong and reliable. He always made you feel so safe and wanted. He always made you feel so loved. He always made you feel like you were the only woman on earth, and you always wanted to feel this way forever.

His mouth left yours and moved to your neck, kissing and sucking there. His hands groped your body, slipping under the thin material of your t-shirt. He continued to kiss and bite down your neck, feeling your pulse against his lips.

He was in heaven. He was living a dream. This beautiful, smart, funny woman was all his, and he could feel himself becoming overwhelmed with emotions.

He pulled back to look at your face. You had a serene expression, one that Joe often saw when he made you come undone. You were perfect. You were everything to him.

His hands cupped your cheeks, and he kissed you softly. You kissed him back, opening your mouth for him to taste you.

Joe loved this. He loved every minute of it. It wasn't just about sex for him anymore. It was about sharing his love with you. He had given you the most sacred part of himself, and you had given it right back.

He was so happy he thought he could burst.

Your front door suddenly flew open, and Joe dropped you on your couch as quickly as possible, making sure to fix his shirt in the process. He moved in front of you protectively and glared at the small figure standing in the doorway.

He glared down at the man. His lips were pressed in a tight line, and his jaw was clenched. He was so pissed, but he wasn't going to allow that bastard to see it.

“Jared? You do realize I didn’t give you those keys just to open my door whenever you want, right?” Your voice was stern and angry, causing Joe to smirk. He was so proud of you, of your ability to stand up for yourself. You tell him off.

Joe watched as Jared ran his fingers through his messy hair, looking nervous and flustered. He looked at you and then at Joe before glancing back at you. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but he closed it quickly.

He tried again but only ended up stuttering and not saying a word. His eyes were darting back and forth between Joe and you as if he were looking for a way to escape.

Joe watched as he looked like a fish out of water. He had never seen this guy speechless before, so he was enjoying every minute of this.

You seemed to have finally had enough, as well. You threw your hands up and sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at Jared's awkwardness.

"Is there something you need, Jared? I’m really busy at the moment." Your words were sharp and short. Again, Joe smiled at how badass you were. It was hard to believe that a month ago, you were this nervous little thing. You couldn’t even say the word 'no,' and now, here you were, telling off this guy twice your size. You were just a ball of fire.

“I, uhm... I just... I wanted to see if you were okay after what happened earlier today. I was worried, I guess." Jared said. His voice was quiet and sounded so small. He sounded nervous and fidgety. Joe almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He might’ve even felt sorry if he didn’t catch what he had said.

What happened… earlier?

Joe gave you a look, hoping you'd fill him in. You were his girlfriend, the person he cared about more than anything in this world, but you were keeping secrets? What was happening here?

You seemed to understand what he wanted and looked over at Jared before glancing back at him. Joe tilted his head slightly, silently asking you to tell him what was happening. You took a deep breath and looked at him with your big brown eyes before turning to look at Jared.

"I'm okay, Jared, thank you. But I am really busy, and I have a lot on my plate at the moment, so I can't really talk. Maybe later?" You smiled sweetly at him. "I'll give you a call?"

He seemed to relax a little at your words, smiling at you. He took a deep breath and nodded his head. He turned to face Joe for a moment, just staring at him for a beat before turning back to you.

He sighed and seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air. "Okay, yeah. Just let me know if you need anything. I'll call you later, then. Have a good night." Jared gave you a quick wave before walking out the door and closing it behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Joe turned to look at you, waiting for an explanation.

"What happened today?" He couldn’t help but think of the worst, worrying that maybe you had met someone else. That Jared had hurt you or something.

Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head vigorously as if reading his mind. "Oh, no. Nothing like that. It was... uhm..." You took a deep breath, seeming to collect your thoughts. "It was just me."

You let out a nervous laugh, but Joe was still staring at you intently. "Okay, well, it was this thing." You hesitated for a moment, staring at him, and he nodded his head, encouraging you to continue. You took a deep breath and started explaining.

You went on to tell him about the charity event that you had attended. You told him how there was a guy that had been hitting on you. He sounded like a total creep to Joe, and he couldn't understand how you would let some rando put his hands on you. You had a boyfriend, for Christ's sake! How dare he?! Joe didn't know how he would've survived if he had seen you with another man. He would've beaten the shit out of that guy, but he would've also beat himself up for not being able to protect you from that.

He was your boyfriend. He was supposed to keep you safe and protected. It was his duty. He was going to protect you. He wanted to protect you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joe asked, keeping his voice low and even. He was trying to be calm about this, but he was quite the opposite. He wanted to go and hunt this guy down and find out exactly what happened, where he touched you, what he said. He needed to know where this guy was, and he needed to make sure he wouldn’t be a problem for you. He would handle it. No one would touch his girl. He would keep you safe. He would kill for you if that's what it took. He would do anything for you.

You sighed and dropped your gaze from his, staring at your feet. You had the nerve to be embarrassed about it. That made him even angrier.

"I don't want to make a big deal out of it. It was just a dumb charity thing; I'm sure it's happened to lots of people." You didn't even sound convincing to yourself, and the sight of your hunched-over figure was enough for Joe to lose it.

He took a deep breath and sighed loudly, feeling his anger building in the pit of his stomach. He was on the verge of exploding, but you were clueless about what he was feeling. You were trying to pretend like it was no big deal, and you didn't even realize what you had just done.

You were his. His to protect. He wasn't going to allow this guy to take that from him. He wasn't going to allow this guy to touch what's his.

Joe stood up from the couch and started pacing around the living room. You watched him curiously for a moment before following his movement. You stood up from the couch, ready to stop him from walking around, but he turned around suddenly, looking at you. He glared down at you for a moment, and you stopped in your tracks.

“Did you get his name?” His voice was dark and dangerous, like a predator that was ready to kill.

You hesitated for a moment as if you were debating with yourself. He watched your face as you thought, waiting for your answer. Your brows furrowed as you thought, and your bottom lip was between your teeth. You were worried about something. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that he wasn't going to like it.

You sighed and glanced up at him with those big doe eyes before glancing back down to your feet. You seemed to be looking at his shoes, counting the laces as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I did." You murmured.

"What is it?" His voice was a low growl.

"Joe, this doesn't-"

"What is his name?" Joe snapped, glaring down at you. He didn't mean to yell, but it was taking all his energy to hold back. You flinched at his tone, and he wanted to punch himself.

"I don't want you to get involved in this. I'm okay. I promise." You said. "I just want to forget it ever happened. Please, just let me take care of it." You sounded so defeated, and Joe wanted to reach out and hold you, but he knew he needed to hold himself back. He needed to keep himself from you for a moment. He wanted to get out of his own head before he did anything stupid.

"How?" His voice was cold, colder than he meant to let on.

"What?" You looked up at him, and he felt like he was looking into your soul. It was so beautiful and pure. You were so innocent and good, so sweet and soft. He never wanted to do anything to hurt you. He would protect you and keep you safe from all the bad things in the world. This guy included.

“How can you forget it happened?" He said, glaring at you. "What did he do? What did he say to you?" His voice was getting louder by the second, and you took a step back, flinching again. His stomach twisted as he saw your reaction, and he tried to calm himself. He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "Did he touch you?"

You looked away from his face and sighed. Your gaze landed on your feet, and you seemed to be counting the laces in his shoes again.

"It doesn't matter what happened," you said.

"What did happen?" Joe asked again.

"Joe," you said, looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes, "It really doesn't matter, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

"I need to know."

You rolled your eyes at that and threw your hands up. "Why? So you can go after him and make it worse?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew he had to tell you. " You’re scared. I don’t want you to be scared anymore. I want to help you."

He wanted to take away that fear. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted to be the only person you needed to protect yourself. He didn't want you to be afraid. He wanted you to be able to feel safe and loved.

"You can't protect me all the time. Sometimes I have to be able to stand up for myself and do this stuff, Joe." You sounded defeated, but Joe shook his head.

"You shouldn't have to."

"It was just one guy." You shrugged your shoulders. "I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to! Just… Please, just let me help you." His voice was pleading. He knew he sounded desperate and pathetic, but he needed to be the one to protect you.

You didn't say anything to that and looked back down to the floor. Joe's eyes followed you, staring at you for a moment. He noticed that you weren't moving anymore.

“Jim,” You murmured quietly, your head still bowed. It was so quiet that Joe wasn't sure he heard you right.

"What?"

"His name is Jim," you said, looking up at him with your big brown eyes. "Jim Haynes. I saw him in the building this morning when I was walking to my car. He lives in 1515."

He heard you. You told him.

You gave him what he wanted, and he couldn't help but smile. It was a wide smile, one that you saw often on Joe.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you in close to him. You squeaked as you were being moved across the room, and you held your breath as you realized where he was heading. You knew what was going to happen, and you couldn't help the rush of excitement and heat that filled you.

You watched his face as you moved, seeing his big brown eyes glued to yours. Your mouth went dry as you stared back into his dark eyes. You felt your pulse race as his gaze felt like a touch.

“Thank you for trusting me.” He whispered, his breath tickling your face. He was truly so happy to finally be given this information. It felt good knowing that he could help you. He could keep you safe from harm.

He pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and soft. You could feel the emotions on his lips, feel how much he cared. You could feel how much he wanted you. He pressed his body against yours, wanting to feel you pressed against him.

Tonight, he would protect you. Tomorrow, he will make sure you stay protected. But right now, he was going to take care of you. He was going to be there for you.

He was going to take care of you, and then, he was going to take care of Jim Haynes.

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soulofapatrick · 9 months

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Kiss Me Tired - Percy Jackson x Female Reader

Summary: you can't sleep so go to find your best friend - Percy

Words: 1.9k

warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

I find myself tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around my restless limbs, as elusive sleep evades me once again. The Apollo cabin is quiet, the soft hum of night almost suffocating in its stillness. Moonbeams trickle through the window, casting gentle patterns of the wooden floors.

Grateful for being on the bottom bunk tonight, I slide from under the covers with practiced ease. The gentle thud as my feet meet the floor barely makes a sound, but each step feels amplified in the silence of the sleeping cabin. Slipping on a pair of shoes without lacing them up, I make my way to the door, my heart pounding louder than the muted thuds of my footsteps. The door creaks slightly as I ease it open, wincing at the noise before exhaling a relieved breath as it swings shut behind me.

Staying close to the comforting cover of shadows, I weave my way through the lingering clusters of campers, their hushed conversations mixing with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The children of Nemesis and Nyx, silhouetted against the faint glow of the campfire, seem engrossed in their own whispered discussions, oblivious to my presence as I navigate the edges of their gathering.

I skirt the edges of the Poseidon Cabin, a refuge I’ve often visited, and slip inside, grateful for the cover of darkness. The familiar scent of saltwater and adventure lingers in the air. The cabin is eerily quiet, echoing with the absence of Percy—the solitary presence that usually defines it.

My steps echo softly against the wooden floor as I venture further in. The moonlight filters through the windows, causing elongated shadows that dance across the cabin’s interior. Percy’s empty bed confirms his absence, leaving the cabin strangely deserted.

Curiosity propels me deeper into the cabin, my gaze landing on the backdoor open, leading to the pontoons. The moon’s silvery trail illuminates the pathway to the water’s edge, inviting and ethereal. The realisation settles in—Percy, the sole child of Poseidon, often seeks solace by the lake, where the water sings the tales of his father’s realm.

The sight before me steal a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Percy sits there, silhouetted against the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, a portrait of quiet strength and contemplation. His unruly hair catches glimmers of moonlight, creating an otherworldly halo around him.

As I draw nearer, the tranquility that envelopes him seems almost tangible. The lake mirrors the night sky, stars dancing on its surface, and Percy, the living embodiment of that serene beauty, captures my attention entirely.

He turns at the faint rustle of my approach, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pretty lips. His sea-green eyes, illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, hold a depth that echoes the mysteries of the ocean. It’s mesmerising, the way he seems both a part of the night and a beacon within it.

Percy’s messy black hair catches the moonlight in a way that makes it seem like constellations have woven themselves into the strands, each unruly wave a testament to the untamed spirit he embodies. His lightly tanned skin, kissed by the sun’s rays and caressed by the gentle breeze, holds a warmth that feels inviting even in the cool night air.

As I settle next to him, a comfortable ease settles between us. Percy shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and I follow suit, instinctively resting my head on his shoulder. It feels oddly natural, as if this silent language of unspoken understanding has been written int he stars all along. The coolness of the night dissipates against the warmth of his presence. His shoulder, solid and reassuring beneath my head, carries the weigh of both the wards burdens and its beauty.

His sea-green eyes, s deep and enigmatic, gaze out into the horizon, the mysteries of the universe reflecting in their depths. The seven expression on his face speaks volumes, as if he’s a silent guardian, watching over the secrets of the night. The gentle breeze whispers secrets to the night, and I feels Percy’s arm, strong and comforting, wrap around my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to him. It’s a gesture of silent understanding, an unspoken invitation to share the weight of ur silent night-time musings.

“Why can’t you sleep, Mouse?” Percy’s voice, soft and inquisitive, breaks the tranquil silence with my stupid nickname he made for me. His concern is palpable, yet I hesitate to divulge the true reason behind my sexlessness, my heart pounding against the confession I’m afraid to voice.

I shift slightly, trying to evade the truth, the words catching in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within, “Just… thoughts, I guess. You know how it is.”

But it’s a hollow response, a mere veil covering the truth that simmers beneath the surface. The mere thought of Percy and Annabeth together as a couple, a union so celebrated and cherished among demigods, twists a knot in my stomach, a painful reminder of my unspoken feelings for him.

The fear of vulnerability and the ache of unrequited affection hold me captive in a silence that feels suffocating. I can’t bring myself to admit the ache his closeness evokes, the ache that surges every time I see them together, facing the world as a pair that everyone wants to see. The perfect couple.

A grumble of protest escapes my lips, as I know he sees through my lie as he stays silent, a frustrated sound that I can’t seem to contain. I turn my face, burying it in the comforting crook of his neck, hoping to hide the turmoil that threatens to spill over. His chest rumbles with a soft laughter, a sound that’s both comforting and teasing, pulling me out of my momentary retreat.

Before I realise it, his finger hooks gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet to gaze. The concern etched into his expression melts away any remaining resistance, coaxing me to open up even as my heart clenches with the vulnerability of it all.

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, his sea-green eyes searching mine, an unspoken invitation tp share whatever weighs on my mind.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The urge to confess tugs at my heartstrings, a silent plea to unburden the ache that gnaws at me. But the words romain elusive, trapped behind a barrier of fear and insecurity.

My heart hammers against my chest as his thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that seeps into the cracks of my guarded emotions. I meet his gaze, sea-green eyes holding mine in a silent conversation that speaks volumes.

I feel myself drawn to him, my eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that feels almost surreal.

As my gaze lingers on his lips, a surge of emotions—longing, fear, and a yearning for something more—swirl within me. Self-control wavers as my heart takes over, propelled by an undeniable urge to bridge the gap between us.

Without warning, without calculation, I lean forward, closing the space between us. My lips meet his in a moment that feels both suspended in time and yet over too soon. It’s a soft, tentative touch, a leap of faith and vulnerability woven into the tender connection.

For a heartbeat, the world stills around us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth of our shared emotions. The warmth of his lips against mine like a revelation, a stolen moment that lingers as a testament to the unspoken desires I’ve kept hidden. But, just as quickly as it happens, the weight of the moment hits me, the reality crashing down like a tidal wave. I pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, my heart thundering in my chest, uncertainty clouding my thoughts.

“Perce… Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“

Before I can finish my stammered apology, the words tumbling out in a jumble of regret and confusion, Percy’s gentle touch silences my anxious ramblings. He leans in, cutting off my faltering speech with a soft yet determined press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that carries a subtle urgency, a reassurance woven into the tender connection that leaves me breathless and wide-eyed.

His lips, warm and inviting, mould against mine in a way that feels both familiar and utterly new. There’s a tenderness to his touch, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance that sends a shiver down my spine. His kiss tastes like the promise of untold stories, of shared secrets whispered in the stillness of the night.

My heart leaps in my chest, responding to his gentle yet confident touch. I reciprocate, tentatively at first, before letting myself be swept away by the overwhelming rush of emotions. My hands, initially hovering uncertainly in the space between us, find their place, one resting against his chest and the other timidly finds its way to his cheek, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin.

His hands, strong yet tender, find their place at the small of my back, pulling me closer in an embrace that feels both reassuring and exhilarating. The closeness of our bodies, the shared warmth between us, creates a cocoon of intimacy that blurs the boundaries of friendship and something more.

The moment lingers, suspended in a haze of shared emotions, before Percy breaks the kiss, his breath mingling with mine as he gently pulls me onto his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, a sudden rush of adrenaline mingling with the warmth of our closeness. Then, he guides me down, our bodies molding together in a dance of longing and unspoken desires. His hands, firm yet gentle, cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he leans in for another kiss.

This time, there's a hunger in his touch, a raw passion that ignites between us. Our lips meet again in a union fuelled by the unspoken confessions of our hearts. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a dance of lips and tongues that express the emotions we've kept buried for so long. His fervour is matched by mine as I respond eagerly, the longing I've harboured finally finding an outlet in this shared intimacy. The taste of his kiss is electrifying, a rush of emotions that consumes every inch of my being.

My hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer in a silent plea for more. Our bodies meld together, the heat of our closeness building an unspoken intensity that blurs the lines between friendship and an uncharted territory of passion.

In the soft moonlight, our embrace becomes a symphony of desire and longing, each movement a testament to the unspoken connection we've discovered. And as we lose ourselves in this intoxicating moment, the boundaries of what we were and what we might become blur in the heat of our shared passion.

“Come on sweetheart,” Percy finally pulls away, “You can sleep here tonight.”

Riordanverse Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#percy jackson #percy Jackson x reader #percy Jackson x you #percy Jackson x y/n #percy Jackson smut #percy Jackson fluff #percy Jackson angst #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson series #camp half blood #pjo fandom #percy Jackson one shots #percy Jackson headcanons #Logan lerman

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nerdallwritey · 3 months

Text

Just to Ruin Me

Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”

Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.

Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood.

This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings.

It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn.

At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact.

Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight.

But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-

Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling.

Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.

How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear.

That… would not be pleasant.

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.

Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.

Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on!

You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering.

You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.

“Astarion,” you sang quietly.

Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?

You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”

Nothing.

Okay fine.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.

“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you.

You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”

You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead.

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”

“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him.

He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”

You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”

“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”

You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”

Astarion pursed his lips.

“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”

A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”

“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”

You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”

He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”

You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap.

He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?

When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“Wait, no-”

You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”

He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.”

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”

“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.

Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”

The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably.

“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck.

You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”

Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back.

“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”

He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”

“I just thought of something,” you said.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.

“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure.

“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.

“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked.

“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.

“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do.

Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion.

“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”

After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.

“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”

Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.

His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”

“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder.

You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it.

“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.

You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening.

Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh.

“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”

You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.

“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair.

“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.

“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?”

You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.

Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix.

You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.

Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more.

“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.

“More of a question, really,” he clarified.

You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally.

“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.

It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.

When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face.

“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”

Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”

You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap.

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”

“I did not!” You protested.

“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”

You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”

Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.

The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink.

“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.

“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants.

“Sorry,” you said.

Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”

You held up your hands innocently.

He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.

“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”

You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?

Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.

“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.

“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.

“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.

“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”

“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.

You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.

Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee.

He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.”

You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next.

“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly.

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.”

You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him.

He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”

You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder.

“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.”

Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”

You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”

“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”

“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”

Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.”

You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”

“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.

Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky.

“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”

Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”

Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”

“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke.

“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’”

You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.

“What a prick.”

He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”

“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”

The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”

You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.

“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”

“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.

Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield.

When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”

You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”

“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”

“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.

He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.

“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow.

“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”

That hurt.

You said as much. “Ouch.”

“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”

Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid.

“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”

You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.

“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”

A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.

He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”

“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”

“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”

He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on.

“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.

You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace.

His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”

You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?

Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.

Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”

“Then by all means.”

You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small.

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you.

Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now.

“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”

Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.

“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek.

Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”

You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.

Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”

Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.

“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”

That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”

Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”

You humphed.

“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”

“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”

“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue.

“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”

“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”

That made you smile softly.

He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out.

Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”

“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”

You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.”

You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.

“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”

You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.

“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”

Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”

You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.”

“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow.

“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”

Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”

You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.

“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.

“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards.

He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply.

“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”

You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right.

You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.

He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.”

You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.

He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”

“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again.

He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed.

He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.”

You pursed your lips, disappointed.

“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”

You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably.

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.

You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”

You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”

Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”

You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”

You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side.

“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”

You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.

Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~

You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face.

You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead.

“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.

Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly.

You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly.

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously.

He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.

“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.

“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.”

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance.

“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline.

You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands.

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed.

“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?”

“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you.

Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged.

“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look.

“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly.

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again.

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly.

“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”

Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”

Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”

“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said.

“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.

“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”

Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He shrugged. “What?”

You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions.

“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”

“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”

“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms.

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.

“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly.

“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended.

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased.

“Astarion,” you scolded.

He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip.

You went red as you watched your companions track his hand.

“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious.

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire.

“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”

“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.

“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly.

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both.

You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly.

“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.”

“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll.

“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.

You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said.

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.

Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand.

Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?”

“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated.

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully.

“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”

Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered.

“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”

“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale.

“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.

“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby.

She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck.

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”

She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion.

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”

Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”

“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”

“I got it,” he said flatly.

“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”

“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly.

When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.

“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.

“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.

You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”

“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”

You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.”

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on.

When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm.

Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.

“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”

“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard.

You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan.

Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”

“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows.

All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.

“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”

His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”

Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”

“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees.

You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”

“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.

“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly.

“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly.

You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”

“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”

Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.

“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”

You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”

A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”

He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.

“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs.

A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.

Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”

“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.

He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt.

You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight.

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”

He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”

You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”

“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger.

You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”

“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again.

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed.

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him.

He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”

Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”

Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”

You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”

“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear.

“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”

“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax.

You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”

A relieved sigh escaped you.

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly.

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.

“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”

You inhaled. “Yes.”

Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”

“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass.

“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable.

“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.

He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”

“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile.

He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night.

You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.

He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard.

“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly.

“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat.

“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.

“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.

“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”

He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.”

He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed.

The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy.

Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state.

“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”

Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”

“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck.

“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”

“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin.

His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well.

“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.

“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.

“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing.

“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”

You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more.

“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you.

The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily.

“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm.

After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.

Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.”

You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.

“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth.

Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”

Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”

“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”

“And that’s important because-?”

“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”

“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes.

You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time.

Incredibly, you both looked presentable.

“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.

You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows.

“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”

“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back.

He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly.

You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.

Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”

Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire.

“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments.

“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”

“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased.

“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”

“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.

Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.”

“I do not.”

“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.”

“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.

“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”

He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”

You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”

Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.

If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together.

You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.

Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire.

You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”

He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath.

And stepped into camp.

480 notes · View notes

frantic-fiction · 4 months

Text

What Once Was

Pic credit: iiven

Astarion x gn!reader/ gn!Tav

Summary: Astarion and you decided it was best to remain friends, following the fall of the Absolute, Astarion finds he is regretting letting you go.

Warnings: Angst, Angst with a happy ending, Astarion being bad with communication, Astarion is bad with feelings

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

"Astarion," Tav whispers, their breath warm against his ear as their fingers trail down his forearm, nails lightly scraping the surface. Hesitantly, they intertwine their hand with his. Their warm doe eye pierces straight into his, and he feels vulnerable under the intense stare. "I care about you, but maybe what you need right now is a friend, not a lover."

Astarion freezes his body still as a marble statue. Inside, his mind is a storm of confusion. Emotions he barely remembers flood him, swirling in a chaotic whirl that leaves a sharp ache in his chest. He gripped Tav's hands as if they alone were the sole thing keeping him bound to the material plane. Maybe in that moment, they were.

A friend?

When was the last time Astarion had a genuine friend? He doesn't know, but somehow, the word seems too mundane to describe the beautiful person in front of him. Tav, the first creature in 200 years of agony, showed him kindness and love, showing him that he was more than the mindless puppet Cazador molded him to be.

The topic was too heavy to unpack fully at that moment. Astarion had just tasted freedom. He was free of that monster and was learning what it meant to live again. He was too confused and broken to figure everything out, and so what more could he have said?

"I-I would like that."

***

A thunderous round of knocks pounds against the front door, jolting Astarion from his novel; he exhales a long, heavy sigh, flipping the page as he sinks deeper into his armchair. The crackling fire provides a once comforting backdrop, now barely audible over the persistent knocking. He tries to ignore it, his eyes skimming the lines without truly reading. But it's becoming harder by the second.

"Astarion!" Your voice is slightly muffled from behind the door. "Are you seriously going to leave me out here in the cold?"

"Where's the key I gave you?" Astarion calls out; his voice tinged with irritation. He remains firmly in his chair.

You're quiet for a moment. "I may have lost it, b-but it's not my fault, I swear!"

Astarion clicks his tongue, tossing the novel onto the side table, and moves to the door. "If only the history books knew the real hero of Baldur's Gate instead of their exaggerated grandeur." Unlatching the bolt, Astarion swings open the door with a smirk. You stand impatiently on his doorstep, arms crossed over something, lips puffed out in a pout. "If the world knew the real you, I doubt you'd have many admirers singing your praises."

You push past him, pressing a warm jar into his chest as you go. "You're just jealous I'm famous and adored. Now stop being mean to the only friend who puts up with you, you grump."

Astarion's heart clenches as he stares at the jar of blood in his hands. He watches absently as you flit around the room, tidying up the minimal mess he's accumulated since your last visit.

Friend.

The word stings like sunlight on his skin. A rock settles deep in his stomach at the reminder.

Astarion has many regrets, but letting you slip through his fingers is the one that haunts him most. If he could go back, he would pull you into his arms and never let go. He would whisper how much he loves you and beg for time because he can't imagine facing the darkness without his light.

But it is too late for that because how do you ask someone as bright and full of life as you to return to someone as broken and doomed to the shadows as him? Astarion has to settle for the barest comfort your friendship can offer him despite the pain that comes with it.

"Hey, Star, could you sew this button back on after your meal?"

Your melodic voice pulls Astarion back. He turns and heads to the kitchen, where you are already seated. It's only then that Astarion truly takes in your appearance.

Gods, you're beautiful. You're wearing clothes that perfectly accentuate your body, stirring a sense of longing in Astarion. You're even wearing the delicately embroidered scarf he hand-crafted for you last winter. Why did he let you go?

Astarion swallows hard and retrieves a chalice from the cabinet. "Of course, my dear."

"Thank you! I can't believe I popped a button."

Astarion pours the blood into a glass, watching the deep red liquid swirl as if it's the most captivating sight. His eyes flicker up briefly before darting back down. He asks carefully, unsure if he wants to hear the answer.

"What's the occasion?"

You drop your chin, a bashful smile tugging at your lips. You fiddle with the fallen button, spinning it on the table before slapping your hand over it and repeating the action.

Astarion takes a sip and waits. The sweetness of your blood coats his tongue, and he savors the mouthful. It's nothing compared to drinking from the source, but you felt it was best to do it this way. You said the prior act felt too intimate for two friends and blurred too many lines, and Astarion felt he had no place to voice opposition.

He takes another quick mouthful, knowing he only has so much time to savor the blood before it congeals into an unpalatable gel.

"I-I have a date."

Astarion chokes on the blood, pulling the glass from his lips as a fit of violent coughs overtakes him. An unsettling feeling churns in his stomach, making him feel like vomiting, but it's not from the burning in his throat.

"Is it really that surprising that someone would ask me out?" You scoff, taking Astarion's coughing as an act of humor rather than the painful surprise he's currently feeling.

"No-" Astarion wheezes through another round of coughs. "That's not-"

You come over and smack his back harshly. Astarion's unsure if it's to help him or express your anger, but the pounding against his back seems to finish his fit.

"I thought vampires couldn't choke," you mumble under your breath. He can hear the annoyance drip from each syllable.

"I am quite the unique spawn, it would seem." Astarion wheezes, slumping into the chair you were previously sitting in. You opt to lean against the counter away from him. "So… who is the special lady or gentleman who has captured the hero's attention?"

Astarion cringes at the hollowness in his voice. He doesn't care to hear the answer, and it's obvious. He doesn't care to hear you gush about whoever has captured your heart and will whisk you away tonight, ripping the last sliver of you he has left.

"Don't pretend to care." You glare, a scowl stealing away your beautiful smile.

"It's rather uncouth to assume your best friend does not care, my sweet," Astarion lies, hurting for all the wrong reasons, but you don't need to know that. "Now, are you avoiding the question because you're afraid I won't approve?"

"No," you respond, not meeting his eyes, opting to fiddle with the button again.

"Then out with it."

"Do you remember the bard?" Your smile says all he needs to hear. Your voice fades to the white noise of his mind.

Astarion feels like he's dying all over again. The damn bard, the suave casanova with a voice as alluring as his smile.

The two of you, Shadowheart and Gale, met at an old, bustling Tavern earlier in the month. Astarion had wished to stay home, but you all dragged him out of his house.

It wasn't a terrible evening; the wine was decent, and despite his best efforts, he enjoyed hearing what Shadowheart and Gale were up to. Astarion was having a good night. At least until the bard sauntered over with his brightly colored ensemble and his dashing smile, asking you for a dance. Astarion had hoped you would decline, but you bashfully accepted his outstretched hand and let the bard whisk you away.

For the remainder of the night, Astarion watched glumly as the bard swung you around the dance floor. He watched you giggle as you spun, dipped, and turned into his sturdy arms. He watched as you fell for his charms. Astarion felt what was left of his heart, the sole piece that belonged to you, crumble into powder. Because there you were, happy with a man who was everything he could never be. A man you deserved. A man with as much light and life as you.

Astarion left early, not wanting to see the love of his life slip further away, missing the crestfallen look that dawned on your lips the moment you saw Astarion slip out the back.

"Astarion?"

Your voice brings him back. And suddenly, Astarion realizes he can't let you go. He will lose you forever if you leave his home tonight; Astarion cannot live with that. He cannot live without you by his side. He cannot live without your smile, your laugh, and your touch, everything.

Astarion wants to be selfish and keep his light, even if that means dooming you to the dark.

"Don't go," he chokes out, voice cracking. Astarion is out of his chair and stumbling to your side before he can tell his legs to move. He's cradling your hands, his eyes pleading for you to understand the gravity of those two simple words.

"What? Why?" You balk, stepping back.

Astarion matches your step. "I think you know why, Tav," he says, his voice firm this time. He cups your face with his palm, and you inhale shaky, seeming to freeze under his touch.

"Astarion,"

"Stay," he pleads, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone, eyes burning with desperation and hope.

"Astarion," you say softly, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "Why now?"

His heart breaks, feeling tears burn in his eyes, knowing he might lose you forever. "Because I can no longer pretend to be happy with just being your friend."

Astarion crashes his lips to yours before you can respond, pouring his desperation and passion into the kiss. You gasp, clutching onto his shirt in surprise before meeting his kiss with equal enthusiasm. He swears he can see stars and feel warmth deep in his chest. When he pulls away, he's panting, his eyes searching yours.

"I love you," he confesses. "Gods, I love you, Tav. I should have never let you go."

"Astarion, I-"

Astarion pulls you close, wrapping you in a tight hug. "Please, Tav," he whispers, his voice thick with tears. "Just stay."

"I'm not leaving," you assure, nuzzling in his hold. "I-I love you too. I've always loved you, you know that. But after everything, can we just...can you-" You pause, struggling to find the right words, torn between past traumas and new beginnings.

"I don't know," Astarion admits, "But I've never been more certain about anything than I am about you. The rest, we'll figure out."

And with no other words needing to be said, you held Astarion tighter, and he swore he would never let you go again.

This was heavily inspired by the fact I'm replaying bg3 (again) and romancing Wyll and went the friend route with Astarion. It was painful but I survived...mostly. Anyway, feedback always makes my day so let me know what you thought 🥰

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #reader insert #fanfic #frantic fiction

334 notes · View notes

doliacuddles · 2 months

Text

SHADOWS OF A MARRIAGE.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

❝In our gazes lie the secrets of a love that never had its chance, trapped in a silence that screams the tragedy of what could have been and never was.❞

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗌. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌.

Alastor could never have foreseen that his life would lead him to this crossroads, a dark and mysterious fork in the path of his existence.

Since childhood, he had always known he was different. While other children immersed themselves in the sweet illusions of first love, with hands intertwined and shared laughter, Alastor remained distant. The social circles that provided warmth and comfort to his peers seemed foreign to him, a stage where he had no place. Deprived of those experiences that seemed so natural to others, his heart beat to a dissonant rhythm.

He didn't respond to the same impulses as his peers. While they enjoyed games and laughter, he found unsettling solace in solitude and isolation. He watched the world from the periphery, with an eternal smile that hid a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. That seemingly amiable smirk was an enigma to those around him, an impenetrable mask guarding his true intentions.

Alastor became a spectator of life, analyzing every move, every word, with almost cruel precision. While others lived their lives carefree, he delved into his own mind, building a refuge where he could be authentic, away from the judgment and misunderstanding of the outside world.

When he found you in the forest, sobbing amidst loneliness, a wave of genuine pity washed over him. It was a feeling he had only ever experienced seeing his mother suffer under the yoke of his father. With the memory of those fresh tears in his mind, he approached you with a radiant smile, the best he could offer in that emotionally charged moment.

He extended his hand with unexpected delicacy, helping you to your feet. That gesture, though simple, carried profound meaning. In that secluded corner of the world, far from the gaze of others, an unexpected and deep connection formed between the two of you. It was his first true contact with another soul, a moment laden with intense and genuine emotion that neither of you would ever forget.

From that moment on, you became inseparable, as if your souls were intertwined in an unbreakable bond. Even though you didn't attend the same school, you always found a way to meet after classes in a nearby park, where your conversations stretched until the stars shone in the night sky. Your laughter, whispers, and confessions filled the air, creating a refuge where time seemed to stand still.

But that bubble of happiness burst abruptly the day he had to move away. It felt like a vital part of his being had been ripped away, leaving him desolate and alone. The only person offering him comfort, besides his beloved mother, had been torn from his life. It wasn't your fault, but his father's, who had imposed the decision to leave their previous home, forcing you to stay in that small town.

A sense of loss and abandonment gripped his chest, mingling with bitter frustration. It was as if destiny, once again, was being decided by others, leaving a trail of pain and resignation in his heart.

His detestable father.

To say that Alastor simply hated him would be a gross understatement. What he felt was a visceral loathing, a fury that burned like an unquenchable fire, devouring every corner of his being. This aversion led him to make a drastic decision: to end his life on a dark night, when the stench of alcohol clouded his father's senses. He couldn't allow him to continue tormenting the innocent, especially his mother, who constantly suffered the atrocities of that man.

But far from feeling relief, that act became a turning point in his life. His father's death left Alastor and his mother in poverty. Without financial resources, they were forced to face a brutal and ruthless reality. His mother, who never managed to overcome the loss of her husband, became a shadow of herself, her health deteriorating day by day. Illnesses besieged her mercilessly, worsening their situation even more. Survival became a constant struggle, marked by desperation and uncertainty.

Over the years, circumstances gradually began to improve for Alastor. Each new job not only provided invaluable experience but also allowed him to hone his skills and open doors to more promising opportunities. It was amidst this upward trajectory that he discovered his true passion: radio. Alastor saw in radio not only the financial benefits it could offer but also the immense power of influence he could wield through the airwaves.

Determined to become a prominent figure, he dedicated endless hours to study. It wasn't just about acquiring technical knowledge; for him, it was essential to perfect his charisma and dialect, aware of the importance of communicating effectively and being understood by the masses. Every word he learned, every technique he mastered, was a firm step forward in his relentless pursuit of excellence and recognition. Every broadcast, every program, brought him closer to the pinnacle of New Orleans, the city he now considered home. In each transmission, he strove to capture the attention of his audience, making every phrase resonate with irresistible magnetism. Alastor was not just on the path to success; he was determined to conquer the world of radio, and nothing and no one would stand in his way.

But one day, those thoughts of greatness underwent a drastic transformation. Since your arrival in New Orleans, a question had nagged at Alastor like a constant thorn: Why did you have to reappear? It wasn't malice he felt, but an unsettling sense that your presence was an anomaly in his carefully orchestrated life, an anomaly that shouldn't exist, especially after what he had done, the dark thoughts of satisfaction he had experienced in that fateful moment with his father and other victims.

Maintaining your closeness had become a titanic task. That deep and sincere childhood connection seemed to have evaporated, leaving an uncomfortable chasm between you. Despite this, Alastor strove to be kind and cordial with you, as if every gesture and smile were the result of years of meticulous rehearsal in front of the mirror. Every word was carefully chosen, every movement planned with surgical precision, all in a desperate attempt to revive something that felt irretrievably lost. However, the results were not as expected; his efforts only deepened his confusion and frustration.

He never imagined the day would come when he would have to marry, let alone someone he barely knew and already considered a stranger after so many years of disconnection. But seeing the happiness in his mother's eyes, hearing how fervently she expressed her desire to see him married before her departure… How could he deny her that final wish, the woman who had raised him with so much love and sacrifice? Despite all the doubts and reluctance in his heart, he reluctantly accepted, driven by the desire to fulfill his mother's last wish before her inevitable farewell.

The wedding was a spectacle of luxury, with a crowd of unfamiliar guests who couldn't take their eyes off Alastor. Every move of his captivated, his imposing figure dominated the scene, his eloquence hypnotized, and his magnetic presence was impossible to ignore. And you, lost in the crowd, were no exception. At the altar, in front of everyone, you looked like a true work of art, dazzling and radiant, exuding a beauty that left everyone breathless.

"Alastor, do you take this woman as your wife, to love and cherish her until death do you part?"

"I do," he replied with unwavering certainty, his voice resonating with an authority that seemed to mark destiny itself.

"And you…"

"I do," you murmured, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Your response, almost inaudible, elicited a mix of affectionate laughter among those present and a sweet tenderness in your parents' eyes, who watched you with pride and joy. However, those words, spoken in a moment of overflowing emotion, sealed your fate in a way you never could have imagined.

With an unusual tenderness, Alastor brushed aside the strands of your flushed and slightly sweaty face, his fingers caressing your skin with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual hardness. "Does this hurt you?" he asked in a whisper, his enveloping voice filled with genuine concern.

Instead of responding with words, you leaned into him and kissed him, an unexpected gesture loaded with emotion and meaning. That kiss was a spark, an impulse that surprised him and encouraged him to continue, dispelling any doubt or reservation he might have had.

For Alastor, watching you in that moment was like witnessing a masterpiece come to life before his eyes. Your naked skin beneath him, marked by the traces he had left with his lips and fingers, was a canvas now imbued with the imprints of his overwhelming passion. At first, he had resisted the urge to reach that point, but something in you disarmed all his reservations and pushed him to surrender with a passion he had only experienced once before, in very different circumstances. He felt a frenzied intensity consuming him completely; every caress, every sigh between you resonated like notes in a symphony of shared desires.

Every movement became a dance of fervor and longing, his emotions so intense they bordered on madness. He kissed you with desperate urgency, as if each lip contact were an anchor meant to ensure you never drifted away.

As he held you beneath him, his mind was a chaos of intertwined pleasure and guilt. Aware that he shouldn't be there, he knew his newfound desire to have you by his side was distorting his judgment. But every moan that escaped your lips, every whisper of your voice saying his name, dissipated any rational thought.

When they finally reached ecstasy together, he collapsed onto you, their ragged breaths melding into a single shared breath. He embraced you with a desperate intensity, as if fearing you might vanish at any moment.

"I'm so happy to have you as my wife," he said uncontrollably, the words spilling from his lips unchecked. The pure happiness in your gaze as you returned it made his stomach twist as if a thousand butterflies were fluttering inside him.

"And I'm happy to be your wife, Alastor," you replied softly.

Alastor's memories were woven with every breath of yours, intertwining with the present in the hospital room where they nervously awaited the results of many shared nights. Despite his constant pursuit, Alastor couldn't find any clear emotion at that moment. Had he made a mistake in embarking on this? Did he truly desire to be a father? He hoped that any future paternal instinct wouldn't reflect the cold treatment he had received from his own father.

As Alastor stared intensely at the floor, as if it were the most fascinating thing he had seen in years, he felt your touch on his arm, a signal that the doctor had the results.

The doctor called them from the waiting room door, inviting them into his office. Together, they walked down the hospital hallway, with dim lights and a scent blending disinfectant with old wood and medical books. The distant murmur of other patients and the soft tick-tock of a wall clock filled the air.

Entering the doctor's cozy office, filled with books and a sturdy wooden desk, the doctor greeted them with a warm smile. "Please, have a seat," he said courteously, closing the door behind them.

"Well," the doctor began seriously, adjusting his glasses as he flipped through the papers. "The results confirm that you're pregnant." His words resonated in the room, laden with surprise and contained joy.

You felt a mix of emotions: overwhelming happiness intertwined with palpable fear. It was a moment of bliss, yet also uncertainty about what the future would bring.

Alastor stared at you silently, without words. His eyes reflected astonishment and a tenderness rarely seen. In his mind, memories of his childhood mingled with the possibilities and challenges this new chapter would bring.

The doctor continued explaining the next steps, offering advice on prenatal care and answering questions. Alastor barely listened, absorbed in the new life growing inside you and how everything would change.

After the consultation, they left in silence. Outside, the city lights began to glow, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Alastor gently took your hand, expressing his support and commitment to the new path they would face together.

As they walked back home, the cool evening air wrapped around them softly, creating an intimate atmosphere. Alastor let out a soft laugh that echoed in the quiet neighborhood. Without warning, he released your hand and wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and tenderness as he looked at you. "Ready to dive into endless readings about motherhood?" he asked with a mischievous smile, as if about to reveal an exciting secret. His words hung in the air, filled with anticipation for the days ahead and the new adventure they shared together.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you absorbed the overwhelming news that Alastor had impregnated you. The impact of his words and the reality you now faced left you breathless. Alastor, seeing your distress, let out a light laugh and embraced you, though his gesture was more of a clumsy attempt at comfort than a display of genuine empathy in that vulnerable moment.

"Don't worry so much, my dear," he murmured softly, tinged with his usual irony. "You know a smile always suits you best. You're like an incomplete painting without it."

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌; @catticora @mo-0-o @alastorthirsty @its-a-dam-blue-brick @speedycoffeedelight @eris-norwega

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor

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prythianpages · 9 months

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My Sweet Little Wildflower | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | summary: After begging Azriel to take you with him to Windhaven, he finally concedes. But his worries of you getting hurt come to life when you're kidnapped.

warnings: violence, mentions of blood and death/killing

a/n: this is based off this request.

Azriel hears you gasp as he sets you down. His hands remain at your waist, keeping you steady as you find your footing. You’re still not used to the feeling of flying. Contrary to what Cassian believed, you do not fly on a broomstick so it’s all new ground to you or lack of ground you should say.

There is an unexpected allure about Windhaven. The camp is etched from the formidable terrain of bare rock and mud. There’s a quiet here that you find strangely unsettling but peaceful. It’s the stars that captivate you the most. There’s countless of them and they shimmer like celestial diamonds against the vast, dark night sky. You wonder if they shine brighter than the ones in Velaris or if it’s the lack of moon tonight that makes you think so.

“It’s beautiful,” you say as you step forward, eyes darting around.

“It’s a camp on a mountain.” Cassian deadpans but you’re too engrossed in taking the sights before you to shoot him a sly remark.

“She finds beauty in everything,” Azriel seems to reply, his lips curling up fondly as he lets you continue to admire Windhaven, even though he feels the same as Cassian about it. “I should take her back to the house before–”

But it’s already too late.

Amidst the rugged expanse of the Illyrian camp, there are figures coming into their view. Lord Devlon is among them. Azriel’s shadows are tugging you back to his side until his arm is brushing against your cloak. He’s starting to regret bringing you with him and realizes it’s also too late to hide you in his shadows as the Lord Camp’s cold eyes fall onto your form.

You clutch your cloak tighter around your chest, keeping the obsidian necklace you wear hidden. It doesn’t matter though. Your presence itself pulses with an unseen energy–a dance of ancient whispers that tease the senses. You’re darkness and light. Wildness and wisdom.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see one of the Illyrian males make a sign against evil and although you’re a green witch, you instinctively take a step back. You bump into Azriel’s wing, which curls around you protectively and you feel a rush of reassurance and comfort through the bond.

“You brought a witch.”

The other males flinch at the word. Though Azriel is on alert and his shadows are whispering to him, he finds the sight of full-grown, weathered Illyrian warlords showing fear at the sight of you amusing. You would never hurt a fly. But he would never tell them that. He wants them to fear you.

“Is that a problem?” His voice carries a firm edge and his eyes narrow, issuing a silent challenge.

“Keep her away from the females and children.”

Azriel’s jaw is clenching and Cassian is stepping forward to ease the situation. He does not agree with the cold way the Illyrian camp lords are regarding you but they are here on a mission and need to see it through. “She is none of your concern,” Cassian says and then with a dark chuckle adds. “Unless you give her a reason to be.”

You look at each of them, adopting a stoic demeanor. It’s a skill you’ve honed from observing your mate–the master of impassivity. Their eyes widen momentarily before diverting their gazes.

“We’re here to oversee that all arrangements for tomorrow’s Blood Rite go as planned.”

Azriel takes you to one of the few houses in Windhaven. He tells you it’s where he grew up besides Rhysand and Cassian under the careful and loving watch of Rhysand’s mother. The small house is a haven against the biting winds of the camp.

The house bears the marks of countless footsteps and memories that have weathered its walls over the years, radiating a well-loved charm. Azriel guides you further into the house until you’re standing in the living area and your eyes are eager to take everything in, curious to know more about the place your mate spent so much time in. There’s a series of marks on one of the walls and you smile as you recognize Azriel’s, Rhysand’s, and Cassian’s names scribbled along dates that grow higher and higher with every year.

“The room I stayed in is right around the corner,” Azriel tells you, inclining his head in said direction. “The bathroom is right next to it and the kitchen is further down the hall, if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you reply, turning to face him. “This house is so warm and cozy.”

Azriel’s smile, though appreciative, carries a hint of amusement. He closes the distance between you, a playful glint in his hazel eyes. “Please don’t get any ideas.”

“I still prefer Velaris.”

A soft chuckle escapes Azriel’s lips. “Thank the Cauldron.”

He leans in and his hand softly traces the contours of your face. His eyes drink you in and are brimming with a burning affection he harbors just for you–the way they always do before he has to leave. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours and then I can show you around the forests.”

“Okay,” you exhale, looking into his eyes with a gaze that reflects his own. You stand on your tip-toes to press a brief kiss onto his lips. “Love you.”

Azriel holds you close before you can pull away. He kisses your lips again. Then your cheek and then your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer. “I love you too.”

Settling yourself onto the floor, you rest your back against the foot of the couch as you scribble down your intentions for the next month. There’s candles lit around you, bringing light to the room and offering a calming place for you to pause and reflect. It took a lot of effort for you to light each one of them as your powers are at their weakest every new moon.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, centering yourself. The state of peaceful bliss you crafted for yourself unravels abruptly, shattered by a piercing noise that startles you. You open your eyes to find a stranger smirking back at you and horror strikes you when you realize he’s not alone.

Your heart skips a beat and you press yourself further into the couch, calling upon your powers. “Who are you?”

“So it is true,” the Illyrian male snickers in wicked delight, ignoring your question. His keen eyes take note of the way your eyes flicker between black and your natural eye color and the fact that you’re not putting up a fight. “You’re powerless under the new moon. How unfortunate for you that it landed on the one night we’re able to use magic.”

“Just to be safe.” Another male says, throwing something in the air.

The male in front of you catches the object with ease and your nose crinkles as a metallic odor overwhelms your senses. Iron. It may not be a weakness to most fae–or any, at all, despite the mortal’s claims–but it’s a witch’s weakness. Your stomach churns, bile rising up your throat.

You tug on the bond in the hopes to reach Azriel but as the male clamps the iron chains around your wrist, you’re overcome with a sudden wave of weakness. You can’t feel the bond. It’s eerily silent.

You don’t know how long you’re out for or if you were out at all. All you know is the cold, hard uneven ground beneath you feels like it’s moving and there’s a growing weakness in your limbs that make it hard for you to move. Your head feels unusually light and your throat tightens. You barely manage to roll over and prop yourself up with a shaky arm before hurling.

“Let’s hurry and get it done with.”

“What–what do you want from me?” You rasp. Your arms are still shaking as they hold you up and you will yourself to sit up, your back meeting a hard and rock surface. You blink your eyes and your surroundings clear enough for you to register that you’re in a cave. The feeble glow of torches cast long, sinister shadows that seem to writhe and contort along the jagged walls.

The male you had seen earlier comes into your line of sight. There’s a sharp dagger in his hand and its blade catches the dancing flames of the torches with a malevolent gleam. He points it at you, aiming for a place slightly to the left of the center of your chest.

“Your heart.”

You let out a choked laugh. To capture a witch’s heart is to hold a key to the very core of their being. It’s a sacred vessel through which profound magic flows and can transfer over to whoever holds it. But your heart’s chambers are only filled with the blood that sustains you.

The magic and enchantment that resides in your heart and defines your existence is bound to Azriel. It has been ever since you gave your heart to him. Taking your heart would be an act in vain for the Illyrian males who captured you.

You don’t tell them this though. You don’t want to die but the thought of putting a target on Azriel’s back terrifies you and overrides the former. You’d never bring any harm upon Azriel.

The male pulls on your hair, forcing your gaze up. His lips curl up into a snarl. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, you witch.”

“Should we have a little fun with her first?”

“We don’t have the time. There’s only a little over an hour before the magic leaves us.”

“That’s plenty of time to make her scream.”

A shiver courses through your spine, leaving a trail of cold unease. You squirm under your restraints but go entirely still when you feel something sharp. Your heartbeat quickens in response to the press of the dagger into your skin.

“What if the Shadowsinger comes?”

“He won’t. He’s–”

There’s a knot in your stomach, tightening with the vulnerability of raw, unbridled panic. You’re going to die. The only comfort you have is that you’ll die, knowing that your last words to Azriel were “love you.”

“Did you not see the way he looked at her? Even if we rip her heart out, there’s no telling if we’ll escape his–”

“Then, we’ll be quick about this,” the male in front of you growls, pushing the dagger further into you. You gasp at the stinging pain and your whole body grows entirely still. “We’ll take her heart, harness her powers and run. The Shadowsinger will never find us–”

“I just did.”

There’s a burning in Azriel's chest that unsettles him deeply. He catches a flash of green and realizes that the searing sensation he feels is flaring out from the emerald that lives in the pocket of his leathers. Right over his own heart.

“What is it?” Cassian asks, noticing the subtle shift in the Shadowsinger’s stance. They’re standing near a fire pit, surrounded by tents that this year’s blood rite’s participants are being winnowed to. Their task is to ensure that no stunts are pulled such as the one from last year where Nesta, Emerie and Gywn were forced into the blood rite.

Azriel pulls out the gem. Despite the burn, he handles your heart with care and tenderness. The gem pulses with life, glowing like the vibrant green of a sunlit meadow. He tugs on the bond and his heart drops to his stomach.

He can no longer feel you. All he can feel is the relentless echo of imagined horrors. Something is wrong.

“It’s y/n,” Azriel breathes, eyes wide with worry.

Cassian’s eyebrows knit together in concern. He nods his head. “Go,” he tells his friend and Azriel is already vanishing into his shadows. “I can handle this.”

Azriel’s muscle are tense, coiled like springs. Each of his siphons are glowing like icy glaciers, threatening to release their raw power. the emerald led him to this cave. His eyes darken when he sees you. You’re held against your will with a dagger pressed into your chest and a hand against your throat, pulling you flush into an Illyrian male’s chest. The look of fear in your eyes nearly destroys him.

“If you don’t get your filthy fucking hands off of her, I will rip each finger. One. By. One.”

Azriel’s voice is cold, each utterance sending a chilling vibration through the air. With every passing second, his words are no longer a warning but become a promise. The Illyrian males are visibly shaking under Azriel’s intense gaze and the one holding you swallows thickly. Azriel catches the way his gaze flickers to the opening of the cave and then you’re being roughly shoved to the ground.

Dark tendrils cushion your fall and in an instant, Azriel is crouching beside you. His shadows are brushing against you, assessing you for your injuries. They whisper to him about the injury on your chest and at the sight of your blood, his own runs cold. He’s breaking the iron imprisoning you and rendering your hands useless with his bare hands.

“Azriel,” you breathe in relief.

“You’re safe now,” he reassures you, holding your distressed gaze. He gently brushes your hair back. “But I need you to close your eyes for me, okay? Can you do that for me, love?”

He waits for your response–a meager nod, before leaving your side. He leaves a couple of his shadows with you. They wrap around your eyes and curl against your ears, clouding your senses. He doesn’t want to subject you to the violence that is about to unfold.

When he stands to his feet, he takes delight in the anguished screams coming from the Illyrians as they realize they’re trapped inside the cave with him. His shadows are forming a wall against the only entrance and exit.

One of the males turns and drops to his knees. “Please,” he cries desperately. “I’m sorry!”

“You’re pathetic,” Azriel nearly growls with a sickening smirk. “All of you.”

He makes sure each of their deaths is slow and painful and he doesn’t stop until the very last staggering breath.

Azriel’s shadows lift from your eyes and ears and you’re looking into a pair of familiar hazel eyes. Your eyes glisten with tears and with a gentle touch, his fingertips brush away the traces of terrors that run down your cheeks. His palm cradles your face and you lean into his touch. He rests his other hand against your chest, over your bleeding wound.

Green light slips from his fingertips, seeping into your wound and you both watch in shock as he uses your magic to heal you. “I didn’t know I could do that,” he murmurs in awe.

When he lifts his hand and unmarked skin is revealed, relief overcomes him, coursing through him and through the bond. He can't help but dwell on the what ifs because he knows that he was only a few minutes away from being too late. From losing you.

Gods, he was a fool for bringing you--his sweet, loving mate to a cold and harsh place like Windhaven. Especially on the night before the blood rite. But you had begged him to take you with him. You wanted to see the place he grew up in and explore the forest of Illyria and Azriel found it extremely hard to say no to you.

You’re safe now, he reminds himself, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. Although still slightly shaken, you're also now unharmed. And that's all that matters to him.

“It’s because you hold my heart,” you tell him as your crying comes to a stop and with a shaky breath continue. “That’s what they wanted–to take my heart and use it for themselves.”

An arm slips under your knees and the hand on your face drops to embrace your neck. He pulls you close, cradling you to his chest. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

You know what he’s asking. You bury your face into the comfort of his chest. It’s warm and you can feel his heartbeat. It’s fast but beginning to steady and it’s like music to your ears–the sweetest symphony. You turn your head in a way that allows you to rest your ear against his heart but also to speak.

“Because I was scared they’d go after you next.”

“Oh, my sweet little wildflower,” he purrs. He leans his head down and his breath is hot against your neck. He's touched by your concern. “They’d never get within 10 feet from me if they came for me.”

You dare to lift your head and barely catch a glimpse of the carnage around you before Azriel is tightening his hold on you and coaxing your gaze back to him.

“I see that now.”

“Does it scare you?”

There’s a subtle hint of vulnerability within his hazel eyes. Concern etches into his features as the weight of his question lingers in the air. Azriel was a strong and lethal man. A warrior. A spymaster. You knew this. Yet, he always kept the nature of his work concealed, not wanting to burden you with the horrors of it all.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you avoid his heated gaze. “No.”

Azriel tuts. He can sense there’s something more and he needs to know. He coaxes your gaze back to his. “What is it?”

“I found it kind of…hot,” you admit, a bit sheepishly. “That you’d kill for me.”

Azriel chuckles. The corner of his lips, molded by shadows and softened by affection, tug upwards. Gods, he loves you so much. You’re perfect, made just for him. You're everything he could ever wish for and more.

“I’d do anything for you, love.”

a/n: To the anon who requested this, I hope you enjoyed it ❤️

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagines #azriel angst #azriel x witch!reader #acotar imagines #acotar x reader #az!dandelions

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lesvii · 1 month

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The Dinner

Valeria Garza x F! Reader

Valeria Garza fic… yeah this is the diner by Billie eilish😶‍🌫️… anyways hope u enjoy

Tw: toxic val, brief mention of smut (just touchy).

You’ve been living in a small apartment, big enough for two people. Waking up at 6am coming home at 2am. You’ve work two shifts at least to keep the rent going. Working in a coffee shop near by, at night on bar 5 min away from your place. Today was a calm evening, you sighed as you walked back to you place, fist clenched. You knew Las Almas wasn’t so “calm” at least at night… you knew you had to be careful, looking backward once in a while, just to be sure no one was following you. But that feeling of someone watching you didn’t wash away.

Don’t be afraid of me.

I’m what you need.

You’ve arrived at you place at 2:30 A.M. as you took your work shoes off and change to some comfortable pink fluffy slippers. You turned the TV on, exhausted as you stroll to the kitchen opening cabinets to see what quick meal you can make. Until something catches your eye.

“We been notified that a near squad militar unity had capture a cartel suspect, just a quick reminder on how Las Almas is quite a dangerous place—“

The TV when quiet for a second when you served yourself a bowl of fruit and yogurt as you sat on the couch near the TV. The lady on the screen looked nervous, quite astonished as she talked to someone behind camaras.

“I— um- we’ve been informed that the suspect we’ve mention has scaped the military quarters, we suggest you to no go outside past midnight, keep your doors locked, and don’t answer the door if you don’t know who they are”

“The characteristics we have been informed is a Tall woman, tan skin, tattoos in both arms, dark short hair, we repeat—“

I saw you on the screens.

I know were meant to be.

It got cut off by you changing the channel, but sadly this was all over the news, you groan as you finish your dinner.

A thunder straddle you as you jumped from the couch, you looked outside the living room window as a thunderstorm was covering Las Almas when a huge thump made you turn around in shock, you walked slowly as you tried to gather yourself, a cold breeze hit your body from behind as you turn to see the door was open.

“Fuck.. that scared the shit out of me”. You mumble as you came to close the door, this time with a lock, probably the wind made that.

You stood in silence as you decide to go upstairs to your room, wash off the stress, you took a shower, put on a set of black silky shorts and a top, quickly hoped to bed, closing your eyes, you drift to your dreams quickly.

A black shadow stare at the corner of the room, your breathing becomes heavier as you can see the woman described walking towards your bed, a knife at her hand, looking at you like a prey, the next meal she’s gonna have before disappearing into the darkness again.

You’re starring in my dreams.

In magazines.

Your looking right at me.

You scream, waking up cold sweating as you try and regulate your breathing back again, you groan as you rest you face in your hands. That’s why you don’t like to watch TV so often, too many deaths and negative propaganda. You sighed as going back to sleep wasn’t an option, finally your body stopped shaking. Nothing but a mare nightmare right?.

You sat up on bed as you turn to face your nightstand where your clock was at 3:33 A.M.

The devils hour.

What a coincidence you thought as a shiver down your back was known.

I’m here around the clock.

I’m waiting on your block.

You heard a weird creek on your stairs, strangely the same as when you set your foot cause by a weight, they are wooden stairs after all, they do made noices, you think. You stay silent for a second as you decided to be brave enough to get out off the comfort and safety of your bed, as if no monsters could ever get you there. You slowly open you bedroom door, as you peak your head a little to watch, not being at peace you decided to go downstairs quietly.

Step by step, slowly but calculating your way down to your living room, your breathing a bit on edge, you hear a noice coming from your kitchen, scared shitless you turn to see where the noice is coming from, but fear not, for your surprise was just a loose branch clicking the kitchen window, you decided to peak on the window.

“Care to have some company, chula?”

A husky voice straddled you to the point you were too scared to look back, you froze in the middle of the kitchen, as your worst fear came true.

But please don’t call the cops.

They’ll make me stop.

I just wanna talk.

You left out a trembling sighed as you turn around to face the femenine husky voice. You shook your head as you open your mouth to speak but for a moment nothing c,w trough.

“I— I don’t want any problems just take whatever you want and go-“.

Your voice practically trembling, fighting the urge to not look weak. She makes a low giggle, as she takes a step towards you.

“Really?, anything I want, careful for what you which for florecita”.

She grins taking a final step towards you, as she examines your face, the moonlight hitting your face in the most perfect angles. You stare right into her eyes, there’s something about them… something about the way they look at you, with desire, lust, possession.

“You know… I was planing to knock the fuck out of whatever perro was living here…”

Valeria makes a pause examining your apartment surroundings.

“But— I didn’t knew there was a pretty little thing living here, now you’ve just changed my mind?”.

She said as she caressed a strand of hair that was messy from the commotion.

“How about I bring you back to my place?, you can have anything with me, just name it.”

Bet I could change your life.

You could be my wife.

You stare at her confused of who she was, what was she doing here?, and now she was telling you she was going to take you away. What’s this a kidnapping of some sort?. You started to panic but something kept you grounded, the way her hands were now resting over your hips pulling you closer to the heat of the older woman’s body. You looked down to her hands as you looked away in shyness.

“Aww, no chula don’t go all shy on me now..”

Valeria said, making little circles with her fingers massaging your hips. You sighed at the touch, she leaned over as she dominantly kissed you, bitting your lower lip, her hand traveling down to your pajamas shorts. As things started to get more heated you pushed her away, as you try to make a run for it.

Bad decision

She was right after you, in a split second she cashes you like a lion stalking his pray, ready to make the last kill. She pushes you right into the corner of the living room.

Could get into a fight

I’ll say your right

And I’ll kiss you good night.

“And I thought we were getting along?, you don’t wanna get me mad princess..”

Your breathing accelerates, adrenaline pumping into your veins. As she Hoover over you, you manage to set a punch as she straddles back.

“get away from me !”

I waited on the corner till I saw the sitter leave.

Was easy getting over.

And I landed on my feet.

You scream hoping someone would come for your rescue, Valeria backing up from you finally when you see her walking to the kitchen, confused you stare at her not knowing what to do.

I came in through the kitchen.

Looking for something to eat.

As she comes back to you she grins, you hear some commotion outside, honking in general.

“My rides here… but you can call me if you change you mind sweetheart.”

She finally said as she caressed my lips, final look as she went through the front door and disappeared in the darkness.

I left a calling card so they.

Would know that it was me.

#el sin nombre #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x fem!reader #lesbian #call of duty valeria #valeria garza is a lesbian <3 #valeria garza x reader

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lobotomiee · 6 days

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Dark! House Of The Dragon x Reader...

I created this at dawn ＼(^_^)／

The curse had returned. The harvests, once bountiful, rotted in the fields, and hunger prowled the kingdom’s streets like a silent shadow. For the common folk, food had become a rare treasure, a distant dream. Every day, men, women, and children knelt before the imposing gates of the Red Keep, their voices rising in fervent prayers. They called out for a miracle, for the one known as the gift of the gods: [Name].

The princess, once radiant, had vanished from the public eye. Whispers in the alleyways echoed rumors that the Targaryens kept her captive, hidden from the world, shielded from the eyes that desperately needed her light. The realm sank into despair, and the darkest rumors claimed that [Name] had already perished, like the shooting star that was Maevon.

The days were dark and tempestuous, the sky weeping over desperate souls. But then, as if a sign from the heavens, the sun rose strong and imposing, breaking through the clouds. At that very moment, a white horse galloped through the narrow streets of the kingdom. Upon it, as a divine vision, was [Name]. The news spread like wildfire in a parched land. People ran, their hearts racing, to the center where she shone.

They knelt around her, tears streaming from faces marked by sorrow. No words were needed; their weeping testified to their faith. And the princess, serene as the dawn, comforted them. Her voice, gentle as the breeze, promised them that as long as the brightest star adorned the sky, she would be there, caring for them.

Miracles took shape through the young woman's hands. Rotten fruits were renewed, vibrant and succulent. Water, once murky and tainted, became as clear as crystal, capable of quenching thirst without causing illness. And for a brief moment, the broken hearts of the common folk were filled with hope.

Many stories are always told from the perspective of the rich and powerful, those who command the fate of kingdoms. Yet the voices of the poor, those who suffer at the hands of the nobility, struggling to survive in the shadows of their castles, are seldom heard.

Within the Red Keep, where the Targaryens gathered around the now frail and ill Viserys, a guard burst into the room with news that made the air grow thin. “The princess has left,” he said, his eyes wide with the astonishment of what he had witnessed.

Daemon, without hesitation, ordered knights to bring her back. When they arrived at the place where the people were gathered, what they saw was beyond mortal comprehension. [Name] stood at the center, surrounded by a silent, reverent crowd, her hands raised in praise, in gratitude. No one dared to push or harm. There was a sacred calm, a profound respect.

Above King’s Landing, Belial soared through the skies with breathtaking grandeur. His form, a deep blue shade, grew faster than the other dragons, standing out like a majestic shadow against the clear sky. His roar, powerful and resonant, echoed through the city’s streets...

But within the human heart lies an insatiable flame. Even when miracles manifest and light shines brightly, human ambition is always more ravenous. One day, this insatiable hunger will consume all that has been achieved, and the splendor that now illuminates the kingdom will vanish, swallowed by the very nature of mankind’s greed.

"At the dawn of her fate, when the moon turns to blood and the dragons weep in the sky, the child of the gods will meet the end of her journey by the blade of ambition. Her head, decapitated and sanctified, will be contested by the people as a sacred relic, but whoever dares to claim it will be cursed forever. The gods, once generous, will close their eyes eternally, and no other soul will deserve the second chance that was given. Thus it is decreed, and the kingdom will live under the shadow of eternal retribution."

#house of dragon x reader #black reader #hotd x reader #yandere house of the dragon

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simp4eshal · 5 months

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Ballroom

Count Vronsky x poc!reader/OC(Arabella Von Jaga) (but she's mostly reader i just felt more comfortable giving her a name)

warnings: obsessive behavior, angst ??, smut, yearning, fluff, lemme know if i forgot something

In the dimly lit study of his opulent manor, Count Vronsky paced restlessly. His eyes burned with an intensity that betrayed his turmoil of emotions. It had been months since he had last laid eyes on her, months of sleepless nights and restless days spent yearning for the touch of her skin, the taste of her lips. His heart ached with a longing so powerful it threatened to consume him whole. She was his obsession, his raison d'être, and he would stop at nothing to make her his. Her name was Arabella, and she was the only thing that mattered in his world.

He paused before a large mirror, running his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to tame the wild beast that had taken over his appearance. His once-handsome face now bore the telltale signs of his all-consuming passion: dark circles ringed his eyes, his skin was pale and sallow, and his muscles were taut with unspent energy. Even his once-elegant attire seemed to reflect his inner turmoil, wrinkled and askew.

He could no longer deny it; he was losing his grip on reality. His thoughts were consumed with her, and his actions had become increasingly desperate. He had tried to fill the void with other women, but it was futile. They were but pale imitations of the one he truly loved. Arabella was his sun, his moon, his stars, and without her, he was nothing but a shadow of his former self.

Determined to take matters into his own hands, Vronsky gathered his most trusted servants and issued a decree. He would hold a grand ball in her honor, an extravaganza the likes of which the kingdom had never seen. The invitations were to be sent out far and wide, to every corner of the land, inviting everyone who was anyone to attend. The catch was that the ball would be by invitation only, and the only invitation that truly mattered would be in Arabella's hands.

For weeks, Vronsky's servants worked tirelessly to prepare the manor for the event, transforming it into a veritable wonderland of opulence and excess. Intricate tapestries hung from the ceilings, gleaming chandeliers cast their warm light across polished marble floors, and towering floral arrangements adorned every available surface. A full orchestra was hired to play throughout the night, their haunting melodies weaving in and out of the revelry.

As the appointed day finally dawned, Vronsky paced anxiously before the grand entrance, his heart hammering in his chest. He had spared no expense, had left no stone unturned, and yet he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't enough. He longed for her to be there, to see the depth of his devotion, to feel the weight of his obsession.

Dusk fell, and the first guests began to arrive, their opulent attire casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the ballroom. Ladies in shimmering gowns and gentlemen in finely tailored suits mingled amidst the fountains of champagne, their laughter and conversation filling the air. The orchestra played on, the music swirling around them like a living thing, weaving a seductive spell that enraptured everyone within earshot.

Vrronsky paced restlessly, his gaze darting about the room, searching for any sign of her. His heart felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise, the anticipation almost unbearable. He had invited every eligible bachelor and bachelorette in the kingdom, hoping that one of them might know where she was, might have heard a rumor or seen her somewhere. But so far, there was no sign of her.

Hours passed, and the ball reached its zenith. The guests, their appetites whetted by the endless feast and flowing champagne, had begun to let loose, dancing wildly to the orchestra's stirring melodies. Vrronsky, however, could not join in their revelry. His focus remained fixed on the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her.

As midnight approached, he grew desperate. He had to know if she would come, if she would accept his invitation. He spotted a servant hurrying across the ballroom and beckoned him over. The servant, out of breath from running, bowed low. "My lord, a messenger has arrived with a note for you." Vronsky snatched the envelope from the servant's trembling hand, his heart racing. With shaking fingers, he tore it open.

The note was brief, but it was all he needed to hear. In her delicate script, she had accepted his invitation, promising to attend the ball. He read it over and over again, the words losing their meaning as tears of relief and joy streamed down his face. He could feel the weight of his obsession lifting from his shoulders, a lightness in his chest that he hadn't experienced in years.

With renewed vigor, he rejoined the revelry, laughing and dancing with the other guests. He scarcely noticed the envious glances that were directed his way, for he was no longer concerned with the opinions of others. All that mattered was that she was coming, and soon she would be in his arms once more.

As the night wore on, the ball reached its climax. The orchestra struck up a new, haunting melody, and Vronsky could feel a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He glanced at the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. There, framed by the doorway, stood Arabella, resplendent in a gown of shimmering emerald silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, revealing the long, dainty column of her neck. She held a single red rose in one hand, its thorns glinting in the candlelight.

Vronsky's heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and he felt a surge of relief wash over him. She had come. She had accepted his invitation. With a graceful smile, she glided across the ballroom, her eyes never leaving his. As she drew closer, he could see the love and devotion reflected in her gaze, and he knew that she felt it too. They met in the center of the room, and without a word, they began to dance.

The music seemed to fade into the background as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Their hands entwined, their fingers interlaced, and Vronsky felt as though he had found his anchor in the world once more. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and the sensation was intoxicating. She leaned into him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and he could feel her breath hot against his skin.

The other dancers seemed to fade away, leaving them alone in their own private universe. Time itself seemed to lose all meaning as they moved together, lost in the music and in each other. Their every touch was electric, every movement full of promise and passion. They danced until the orchestra had finished its final song, until the ballroom was empty and the candles had all burned down to stubs.

Finally, with a deep sigh, Vronsky lowered Arabella back onto the parquet floor and stepped back, his heart racing. She looked up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the heat of their embrace. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice barely audible above the sound of their labored breathing. "That was... that was perfect."

He smiled down at her, his eyes taking in every detail of her face. Her lips were still slightly parted, her eyes shining with a mix of passion and desire. "I love you," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "You are my world, my reason for living."

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, they stood there, lost in each other. Then, slowly, Vronsky bent down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration of each other's mouths, before growing more passionate. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and he could feel her respond to his touch, her hips grinding against his.

With a groan, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her across the ballroom and into his private chambers. The candles flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows as he laid her down on the bed. She arched her back as he trailed his fingers down her neck and over her breasts, helpless and full of desire at the same time.

Their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as they tore off each other's clothes. Vronsky kicked off his shoes and shucked out of his trousers, revealing his aroused length. He positioned himself between her legs, feeling her hot, wet folds against his skin. With a growl, he pushed forward, burying himself inside her. She cried out in pleasure, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, driving deep inside her with each thrust.

Her body arched off the bed, meeting his each stroke with a grinding of their hips. Their sweat-slick skin slapped together in a rhythm that grew faster and more frenzied. The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, and the candlelight flickered against the walls, casting shadows that danced across their entwined forms.

As they moved together, lost in the intensity of their passion, Vronsky felt a building pressure deep within him. His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, as he struggled to find release. He felt her body tense beneath him, her muscles clenching tight around him, and with a hoarse cry, she shuddered violently in his arms. Her inner walls gripped him tight, and he felt himself spill inside her, his climax overwhelming him in a wave of pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together, his weight pinning her down. For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, their hearts racing. Then, slowly, Vronsky rolled off of her, their entwined limbs separating with reluctance. He looked down at Arabella, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, and felt a surge of love and possession course through him.

"You are my everything," he murmured, trailing his fingers down her stomach and over her hip. "My reason for living, my reason for breathing. No matter what happens, I will always be yours."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him. "And I will always be yours," she whispered, her voice still husky from their passion. "Forever."

Vronsky felt a shiver of possessiveness run down his spine at her words. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and breathed in the sweet, feminine scent that clung to her skin. "You are mine, and I will never let you go," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "No one else will ever have you."

Their eyes locked, and he could see the heat of desire burning in her gaze. She reached up, tracing a finger down the line of his jaw, her touch sending shivers through his body. "I belong to you, Alexei" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I always have, and I always will."

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luvtak · 5 months

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corona borealis, lfx

✧ genre/tw rambly soul-crushing fluff, one sweet kiss!!, lovely as a pet-name, felix being an undeniably sweet bf like always and hearing a bedtime story <3 , largely unedited.

✧ w/c 952 <3

✧ a/n definitely not brought on by asea felix are you kidding... he's so lovely i just had to dawdle on about it somewhere so here you go! also, the thought of telling lix a bedtime story makes me wanna cry i hope i'm not alone. mwah!!

His arm is hot around you, keeping you safe from the scary silhouettes the shadows bring, and the night is breathing. A group of you had come to this little campground for a night away from the city lights, and while the two of you are alone you can still hear the rest of the boy’s nighttime sounds mixing in with crickets and critters.

Your boyfriend stands beside you, listening intently as you tell him stories of the stars. Usually, these tales come from the comfort of your bed–rustling under covers and speaking into his mouth, sharing breath and love until you fall asleep, tracing false shapes in the plastic stars adorning your ceiling. But tonight, under the cover of a too cold darkness you tell him his bedtime stories beneath the sky.

His face is tilted up, looking to see where your fingers are pointing, and the soft glint in his midnight eyes makes you pause. You’ve never known someone who looked so alive, someone with a sun for a soul. Felix has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, alight with joy and senseless mischief–eyes wide with wonder at the constellations rising above him.

Looking at him is dizzying; that feeling when you put your arms out and spin so fast you fall, a carousel going so round and round. You feel like flying, rising up like the moment Icarus’ wings took him up and away.

Sometimes you wonder if it’s normal to feel like this… if everyone in love feels as though they are the creator, the inventor of such depraved desire and compassion for another. Surely, you must be the first–no one else had felt Felix’s fingertips on their skin or his lips sweetly drinking them in. How could someone say they’ve encountered a deeper love than this when your sweetheart is the embodiment of love, Venus as a boy.

He turns to you in your moment of hesitation, smiling at you with all the care in the world. He loves you endlessly, burns for you and the soft caress of your affection. You can tell he doesn’t know why you stopped speaking, but he’s happy just the same–sharing your space and time, living in this moment with you. He remembers the first time you told him a story, speaking the words softly, he thinks he fell in love right there.

“What’s that one?” he asks, catching your still raised hand in his own.

“Oh, it's a crown, see?” you can see his eyes tracing the points, finding the shape that connects the points together. “It’s Ariadne’s wedding tiara, she was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus slay her brother the Minotaur Asterion. After they escaped the labyrinth, the prince left her on the Island of Naxos where she was found by Dionysus,”

“He left her there?!” he gasps, your sweet boy forever confused by ill intentions, even in a story.

“Yeah, he’s so lame, right? Anyway, after the God finds her on his island they fall in love and eventually marry… the crown was her wedding present, and after she died Dionysus flung it into the sky to honor her.”

Felix is quiet for a long time after this, inhaling the story with all the deference you deserve. After every narrative he takes his time to think about how he feels about it: the first time you finished a movie with him and he was quiet for fifteen minutes before he told you he liked it, he is like that now. Quietly staring at the sky, not ignoring you for his hand still made its path up and down your arm and you know if you called his name he’d answer, but you don’t want to interrupt his silent seeking.

His life is noisy, spirited, and wonderful in all the ways a beautiful boy like him creates, your infatuation came in chaos–in mindless chatter and kitchen counter dance parties, but you fell in love in silence. In the moments when the world was quiet and all you could hear was his heartbeat, the drawling intake of his lungs filling and releasing. You adore his voice, but just existing with him, sharing the same air would be lovely enough for a lifetime.

Finally, after minutes of staring ahead, he speaks–softly but with no less intensity,

“If something were to happen to you I would make you into a constellation.”

His eyes, bright with longing stare into yours, and you know he’s not being funny. He means it with all of him, means it with every atom of his being.

Shocked and in love with him you laugh, bursting with fondness never hidden. “I love you too,” you say, for you know that's what he means. A love that spills from his veins whenever he thinks of you, so massive and consuming that the words aren’t enough. “I’d make a constellation for you too, it’d be the prettiest one in the whole sky.”

When he moves closer to you, you can feel the smile radiating on his shadowed face–sweeping his grin over the plane of your cheekbones. Scorching your skin where his lips touch, a traveling forest fire of kisses. When his journey ends, sliding his mouth over yours the flames grow, getting taller and taller as his caress goes deeper.

The night is chilly, but there is no need for a coat when his arms are around you–sweeping you into his embrace with only the stars to watch.

“Lets go to bed, lovely” he muttered, breathing through open-mouthed kisses and shared smiles. Leading you to where your tent lies, to where stories and sleep await you–love and life and dreams filled with him, your constellation of a boy.

#felix fluff #felix x reader #felix scenarios #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix #felix

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

Text

when you're gone || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x f!reader

summary || Jackson, Wyoming was supposed to be a calm and quiet town. Joel wasn't so sure when he wakes up alone after another unbearable nightmare.

author's note || without @themarcusmoreno, this fic would not have been made so I thank ash a thousand times for enabling me into writing soft joel comfort with some filth!! and tbh, i think i have an addition to soft!joel so i hope you all enjoy (especially after that episode). also yes, i may have gotten the title from the cranberries song!!

warnings || nightmares, ptsd, apocalypse ptsd, pure disgusting fluff, hurt/comfort, joel needs a break so i'm giving him one, soft!joel, SMUT, oral sex, blowjob, praise kink, [18+ only!!]

masterlist

In Wyoming, it was a quiet and peaceful night. The crickets chirped, and the cold icy wind blew against the logged cabins. Everyone in Jackson was under the cloudy haze of a tranquil slumber, and so were the trees as they gently swayed underneath the stars.

In a quaint cabin, Joel was mumbling in his sleep. A dark shadow cast over him from the troubles of his active mind. His eyebrows furrowed in despair, and his cheeks were hot from the pain that shot through his chest. He could picture her. He could picture you. He could picture Ellie. A sharp cry and scream thwarted against his eardrums, and he panicked.

His eyes snapped open in an instant, and his chest heaved at the alarm that spread across his chest and down to the pits of his stomach. He looked around the room—his eyes frantic. An old chair, a bookshelf, and a pile of clothes.

A nightmare. Just a nightmare.

He turned to look over at the silhouette of your form under the covers, but his heart froze once more as you weren’t even there.

You were gone.

It struck deep inside him—empty and sullen—as the questions started to roll over one another. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you alive?

He didn’t waste any time by putting some pants over his boxers or taking his flannel. He just needed to run. The strong pads of his feet hit the floorboards, and he sauntered down the stairs. He had to find you.

He needed to find you.

The pure, hard feeling of desperation rose in his throat. His hands were shaking by his sides as he whipped around the archway that leads into the living room. His eyes scanned every crevice of the room—starting from the tall bookshelves and guitar stand that sat in the back corner. Then, he saw it. He saw the movement of a hand flipping over a page in a book.

You.

He let out a big puff of air, the relief washing him over like a cold splash of water to his face. You were safe. You were okay. He could feel the panic rush out of his chest, and pure adoration sunk in between his heart and his lungs. Just you.

He watched, quietly, at the soft rise and fall of your chest. The hand that wasn’t holding the book in your lap was tapping gently on the edge of the sofa.

A lukewarm cup of tea, the one you most likely forgot from the riveting pages, sat on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page, and your lips pursed into a small smile.

He could tell you were reading a Jane Austen novel. You always had the same expression when you were reading Pride & Prejudice, Emma, or Persuasion. Your left brow would always twitch when you got to a familiar scene that you had read a million times before.

He suddenly could feel the warm breath of a calm mind take over his body. He felt like he could relax now. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re alive.

As if you feel his soft stare, your eyes turn to his—your smile even larger than before. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, handsome?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth doesn’t even form a smile. He wasn’t sure he could. While his body relished in the feeling of relief, the whiplash of feelings that swirled around in his head was starting to get to him.

“Joel?”

Your eyes turned cloudy with concern, and now his heart sank just a little. He didn’t want to make you feel worried. The last thing he wanted to do was open a deep wound in your chest like the one that settled in his.

He quietly sat down next to you, arms pulling in your shoulders, so your back lay rested against his chest. You sat the book down on the coffee table right before making home into his arms.

He breathed in deep, familiar senses of your own musk and the spices you had been picking earlier that day. Rosemary, bay leaves, and parsley were your favorite plants in the garden that Ellie had asked you to build.

You sat there for just a moment, knowing that he needed to take his time. Joel was never a man of words. He was silent and calculating, watching everyone and anything around him.

You were one of his soft spots over the years—you and Ellie—but his hardened heart still prevented him from allowing his deepest affections to shine through. So, when his thoughts came barrelling down on top of him, he needed the time to articulate them. You would always patiently wait for him, each and every time.

“Had another nightmare.” He paused, noticing the small intake of your breath. He could tell that you felt bad for waking up in the middle of the night and not being there for him. “Woke up alone.”

He chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to say, “woke up, and you weren’t there.” In truth, you weren’t, but he knew you had insomnia. He knew that he wasn’t the only one suffering under this roof from the dangerous, violent, and pure aching pain that the world had caused.

“Joel—Baby—” God, you were too good for him. You were a badass throughout all of the years of fighting and violence, yet your heart shined brighter than ever, just for him and Ellie.

He whispered just under his breath, “I had the same nightmare. I know you’re there. I know Ellie’s there. I know Sarah’s there—” He shakes his head. “—But I can never find you. Any of you.”

He can picture the frown that forms on your pretty, plump lips. It wasn’t your fault. You know that. You couldn’t have known, but the burning guilt in your chest wants to say otherwise. Your hand grabs onto his own, which is splayed across your abdomen, and you squeeze—making sure that he knew you were here.

“I’ll never go anywhere, Joel. Not without you.”

A deep, crackling affection sprouted in his chest at your affirmation. He could almost smile—bright and pearly white. His worn heart thumped loudly against his chest, surely pumping loudly against your shoulder blade.

“I know, darlin’. My brain is just funny sometimes.” His lips crack just a little at the snort he was able to pull from your nose.

“Hell of a way to put it, Miller.”

After a couple of beats of silence, you bite your lip—contemplating whether you should act on what your brain was currently concocting. You knew that Joel wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night, and by default, you wouldn’t, either.

You could tell he was still lost in the faraway lands of his mind. His eyes were glossy and dazed. You knew he was, in no doubt, trying to unsee the darkest parts of his nightmares.

You decide to say fuck it, and you attempt to untangle Joel’s arms from yours. You hear a disapproving grunt from the man behind you, followed by another confused sound when you started to leave the couch.

“Darlin’, where are you—” His question dies on his tongue, though, all while you sink down onto your knees. His eyes are blown wide—dark pupils dilating under the soft glow of the eucalyptus candle you started to burn earlier.

You give your best innocent smile. By the way his lips open just a smidge, you knew your idea was a good one. “Wanna take care of you, Joel.”

You bite your lip, sinking your teeth into the plump skin, and he curses under his breath. “Will you let me take care of you, handsome?” Your palms flatten across his splayed-out thighs, and you rub back and forth. He could feel his boxers become tighter as you wait for his answer. “Hmm?”

His body involuntarily leans back so he could sink further and further into the couch. His body acts, once again, before his mind can even comprehend the pure lust and desire he has for you. His hips jump forward to allow your soft hands to shuffle his boxers down and pool around his legs.

Finally, he says, “please.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You grab a hold of his half-hard member, and he groans at the sight of you practically drooling for his cock. Your eyes are glistening with such lust, and he sees that speckled look of love that fills them.

His own eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as you press a couple of sweet kisses on his inner thigh—causing him to jerk. You pump his cock a few times, jaw slacking at the pre-cum that is already dribbling against his tip.

“Darlin’.” He gasps.

He watches as you wrap your soft lips around his head. He can feel his cock twitch and become harder—pleasure throbbing against his bulging veins. “F-Fuck, just like that. Yes.”

You flatten your tongue along his ruddy tip and then swirl in between his crying slit. “Fuckin’ mouth on you, I—” He lets out small puffs of air, teeth biting his lower lip in pleasurable agony. If it weren't for his fat cock in your mouth, you definitely would have smiled at the praise. He moans, almost as if he could feel it.

"Joel—baby—so needy."

Joel was pretty sure he could die happy, right with your lips on his cock because when you rasp that out, there was a bead of your saliva and his pre-cum connected to your lips.

His knees twitch in between you, not being able to help it. He drags his hand to the nape of your neck and squeezes the base of it. “Takin’ care of me so fuckin’ well. My pretty girl—suckin’ my cock.” His words slur together with each syllable of his honeyed Texas accent.

The soft cries and whimpers that leave his mouth are really addicting—your hand squeezes against the base of his thigh from wanting more.

"You taste so good, Joel. 'm—I love you. I love your cock."

You bop your head even lower—esophagus spasming at the pure thickness of Joel. No matter how many times your sweet cunt or stretched mouth took him, you were never used to his swollen size.

You hum against him as you feel the sticky substance of pre-cum leak from his tip and onto your tongue—salty and earthy. His hips sputter slightly upward, lips cursing up a storm. “Oh-fuck-fuck. C-Can’t–ugh–can’t take much longer, sweet girl.”

His body almost shutters from the drool he feels slowly drip down to his balls. Your mouth is warm and balmy, slick tongue working excellently against his hardened shaft. He gasps out your name, mixed in with one of his pet names for you.

He lets himself become lost between the soft pillows of you and your expert tongue that brings him to the brink of pleasure. He lets the stiff trauma that makes his shoulders and muscle tense slowly wash off of him. “Love when you suck my cock, yeah, f-fuck—my pretty girl takin’ care of my fuckin’ cock.”

His mouth hangs open as you hollow your cheeks and suck on his ruddy tip before shoving your throat back down to the base of his cock. He wasn’t sure how he was sane at this moment—watching the saliva drop from his cock down to his balls—as he was throbbing with pleasure.

His head drops back onto the couch, and he moans and whimpers out your name. It stays on his tongue—repeating over and over as if it was the only thing that ever mattered in the world. He feels his tummy squeeze, thighs tensing and pulsating as he feels that familiar coil tighten. “Oh, baby—darlin’—my girl—”

You suck in, swirling your tongue just over his slit once more, and he gruffs out a gasp. "Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you—" Thick beads of cum spew to the back of your throat—causing you to gag. His cum rolls over as his cock twitches and spurts in your mouth.

You swallow every drop that Joel gives you—gulping it down on his shaft. He was already sensitive, cock already softening, but the whimper that left his mouth seemed one of ecstasy.

You relent, though. Your jaw was a little sore, and you had a feeling Joel was going to want to return the favor. You unhinge your mouth from him with a small ‘pop’ and pat his knee in affection.

“Feel better, handsome?”

“Loads.” He snorts. “Literally.”

You roll your eyes, getting up from the floor and taking your usual seat on his thighs. “Hilarious, Miller. Real funny.” You were happy, though. You were able to give him the distraction he deserves.

His smile never settles as he pulls you into him. A weight had lifted onto his chest at the true realization that you’re here.

You’re with him.

You’ve alive.

You’re here.

Joel knew that the nightmare would haunt him for a long time, but for now, you are all he needs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #smut #fluff #joel miller fluff #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou show #tlou #tlou fanfiction #soft joel miller

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threepandas · 2 months

Text

Bad End, Chosen: Part 4

Back <- | -> Next

The Cycles never "loaded" back in at quite the same point. It was something I had noticed, though I had only suffered a few of them so far. It was like the God's were hoping "Chapter" to "Chapter", fickle and easily bored, trying desperately to find something NEW.

It made planning all but impossible.

Where... where was I?

A simple room. A suitcase before me. Loading or unloading? I held a robe in my hands. Painfully familiar. I had worn them for years. The highly protective robes of Mage initiates, at the Magic Tower. Meant to work as armor, life support, even... God's forbid, an emergency beacon. They were hideous. Function over form.

I could cry, for how deeply I loved these ugly robes.

No one had EVER been able to figure out how to style them properly. God's know, we had TRIED. But when The Dark came? This ugly, ugly things? These long complained about hand-me-downs? Oh... oh they had saved so, SO many student's lives.

Such tiny little things. Pulled from the rubble, still breathing. All because of these chaotic, gaudy, terribly comfortable and so deeply loved, old robes. T...They truely were as hideous as I remembered, weren't they? Blocks upon blocks of overlapping stitches and patches, too many colors, as though the tower was too stubborn to throw as single thing away.

We were.

We... we NEVER leave anything or anyONE behind.

Packrats, all of us. Such terrible hoarders. But... I looked around. It did not tell me the date. Was I leaving? Joining the tower? How old was I supposed to be? I pulled on my robes.

It felt like coming home. Like balm against the raw nerves of my still fragile mind. I felt old. Brittle. At... at terrible odds, with my young skin. I wondered if this was how she felt. The woman, the poor girl, that came before me. Before she broke so badly even the God's could not force her to perform. I did not want to admit I understood the impulse.

Ah, there.

I had once, what felt like lifetimes ago. What WAS lifetimes ago. Bought this very calander. It was cute. Little fairy dragons danced upon the edges, delicate and joyous. They were, of course, incorrectly drawn. The artist had never seen a real fairy dragon, only heard of them. I had seen some during the war.

People forget that neither the Fae nor Dragons are sweet or gentle things.

They were... Awe inspiring. In the oldest sense of the world. "An overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, and fear." I believe the text defined it. Like living starlight and glass, sung poetry and water. They were the fury of long dead gods and the vengeance of beings who were divine unto themselves.

They removed an entire MOUNTAIN RANGE before they fell. Burned and reduced to molten earth, an entire inland sea. They died like STARS. Violently and with a force that destroyed the void itself. Consuming all that dared stand in their shadow.

Ha. And people think they're CUTE.

Ah...my mind is wandering again. I try to concentrate on the calendar. My... my mind doesn't want too. Oh dear. That's... that's probably a rather bad sign, isn't it?

Opening my eyes at the beginning of the cycle had brough such... CLARITY. As though my head had been held under murky water and finally, FINALLY, I was able to scramble free. But... much like the drowned... I felt something like a high. Adrift. Without my anchor. I wanted my Gran-...

NO.

I grab the dresser before me. Hard enough my knuckles go white. My wide eyes focus far away. Seeing without seeing. Hyperfocused on the woodgrain before me. I am my OWN anchor. Feel the magic in your veins. The push and pull of the world. We are not his slave! Not his PET, to keep and cherish. A toy on a shelf.

I am a PERSON.

I DEFY MY FATE.

A cheerful knock at the door to my room. My eyes finally focusing on the date. Fuck. Moving IN, then. I do not know if I can act "normal". I... I will have to try. I can not unclench my jaw, but with great force of will, finger by finger, I release my grip on the dresser. Stand up. Glance up into the mirror.

I look like I am some hateful little thing, vowing some ugly little vengeance. Perhaps it is just my face. The way anger and spite only barely holds my bleeding edges together. My fear. I...I look like I am about to cry.

What a wretched child.

I try to force a smile.

It looks hideous. More ugly grimace and deep disgust then "oh, Master, how pleased I am to see you!". Fuck. When did I become so broken? A knock again. More hesitant. I breathe deep. I can not do cheerful, then. But...I... I can do nothing.

My face slides into an emotionless mask. Blank. Like a doll. Vaguely pleasant but meaningless. How damningly familiar. Gran-... HE reduced me to this in the end. A few steps. Almost distant, robotic, movement. And I open the door to a once familiar face.

"Learner." My Master smiles, awkward and uncertain. He had not wanted a student. I forced his hand. I know now I never should have done so. He was not ready. "Are you, um, settling? In? I know it is quite different from the life you once lived, but I promise. I will tale care of you. Well figure this out together."

Oh, Master.

I...I wish I could weep. I had forgotten this lie. How deeply I had once believed it. It was a child's promise, from a man who grew old but never, truely, grew up. I was to be failed again and again. Had once given him chance after chance. Because I had believed his words. My eyes feel hot. He looks panicked.

"Ah! W-what did I do? Was that wrong? Please don't cry?! Oh no! Uuuuh-!"

"Well THIS is a record. Not even a day and you've made the child weep." Comes a terrible voice. No. Please, Gods. Not so soon. "Here I am, come to greet my precious Grandlearner. And what do I find? My student, tormenting a child."

My Master sputters defenses of himself. Not even noticing that his own Master did not call him Learner. All but disowned him before me. My fear howls like a deafening beast in my ears. But... cowering? Will not... can not save me. Turning my head is almost painful, with how tightly my muscles have tensed.

That is not the look of a man who does not recognize me.

He remembers.

Alaric Blight stands in truely magnificent Tower Master's robes, as though he has every right to be there. Respected. Beloved. A legendary talent, the likes of which have not been seen for lifetimes. ANYONE would be HONORED to be in his presence. After all... he is a man who holds the world at his feet.

He is a monster.

"Hello Grandlearner," he all but purrs. Stalking forward to loom, as only an adult CAN loom over a child. The power difference between is even greater now. I can not even count myself an ant before him. I... I can not breathe. "What a delicate little thing you are. Utterly precious. And so SMALL! You certainly have a lot of training to do, don't you?"

His hand reaches forward to cup my cheek, sparks of deadly magic dancing lazily across my skin too finely for Master to notice, but not so fine I can not FEEL. It is a subtle threat. A little reminder. Not a single soul in this tower is safe, so long as he is here. All it would take? Is.. Just. One. Touch~

"I'm sure you'll BEHAVE for your Master, WONT you, Dear? After all, he only wants what's best for you. And a darling child like you, Grandlearner? Should be cherished."

"He's right." My Master said, clueless to the monster he let so close. Who so very dispised him. "But... but Master, I'm not sure, well, HOW exactly..."

"Oh don't worry, student of mine." Alaric Blight, monster of my nightmares, hummed in a laughable mimicry of pleasantries. "I'll be with you EVERY step of the way. How could do anything less? We'll train my darling Grandlearner together."

A terrible grin.

"Leave everything to me."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere otome #yanblr #yandere otome isekai #otome game #otome #platonic yandere #mage reader #Alaric Blight #bad end chosen au #bad end chosen #my man IS gonna get his Found Family #by force is necessary #which is super likely #alaric no #alaric YES! says alaric

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echantedtoon · 3 months

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Quite A Handful Ch2 Urami And Zohakutan

(Warnings for possible mentions of violence, death, cannibalism, usual kny content, etc.

I decided to include the last two clones too since I wrote for the main clones and Hantengu. I'll include Zohakutan but his interactions with Wife Y/n are STRICTLY PLATONIC!!

Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.)

@hawnkoii

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

The darkness of night was always dangerous to those whom did not heed the warnings of the monsters whom lurked within the abyss and shadows.

The woman knew that more than anyone else very well. Often finding herself confined within it's hold. Innocence ensnared like a bird within it's cage. Singing it's innocent melodies despite being condemned to be surrounded by cold iron bars. Forever ongoing. Swirling, swirling around

The sun sank beneath the horizon to make way for his sister the moon to take her rightful place upon her throne of darkness surrounded by her army men of stars and comets. 'Cone out!' She cried out to her dark children that hid from the light. 'My brother and his infernal light is gone. Once more come out to greet your mother and wreck discord upon thine earth. Have your fun dancing in my gentle glow and bask in the darkness that I reign upon as I watch over you.' The monsters woul answer their mother's cries. Dancing. Reigning havoc over the darkness. Bringing entropy to every household they manage to invade.

A fire warmed up the skin as your lazy eyes watched the dancing flames in the pit. The flickering lights casted dancing shadows the lonely still walls. They frolicked in tune with their own rythme in their own universe. However the warmth of the fire kept your body warm and toasted from the cold outside. No doubt crawling with monsters and demons of the abyss walking forth towards you with every step they took. In tune with every breath you took. But you didn't mind. Infact within the darkness the maiden embraced their outstretched embrace.

Step. Step. Step.

Closer and closer.

Breaths of sins clawed their way from a maw that swallowed more innocent lives than the mind cared to remember. Smiling at a wicked whom remembered or a sinful coppery taste that it could still taste on the malicious tongue. Running the muscle along fangs sharp and destined to rip flesh from mere bond. However the sins of that life would be forgotten in exchange for the comfort of innocence that the night allowed him to have once every moon. Footsteps soft yet loud enough to echo through the darkness and approaching the house with remaining light. Light that offered warmth and comfort but not protection.

F/c eyes opened slightly and turned. A door normally provided comfort and protection was no match for the class that ensnared it and pushed it open allowing the night and shadows to spill inside. The sinful, wicked face was delighted to see the one of innocent happiness smiling back to her.

"Hi, Honey!," you greeted brightly from where you were currently cutting a raw cow steak into smaller pieces for your dinner while a giant pot of rice was bubbling in the fireplace behind your smiling face. "You're home late. How was work tonight?" You beamed expecting your husband to crawl in by himself and maybe a few of his clones to come in but you were stunned by who instead walked in through the doorway. "Oh no. What happened?"

It wasn't your husband that waltzed in through the doorway. Uh..Well technically it WAS but it just wasn't the part of him that you were expecting to see tonight. A giant lumbering figure ducked down having to bend at the knees just to get in. The exact copy of your husband if your husband was taller than even a large man and if he was angry instead of scared all the time. The large scowling demon had to lean over even when he was inside because he was so tall. A much smaller figure walked in right behind him looking just as angry. He was young but only in appearance. You knew his looks were deceiving and the other looked so unusual because-

They were both clones. Extensions of your husband.

But these clones weren't really common. In fact you barely if ever saw them in the entire time you've been married to your husband. Resentment and Hatred weren't really two emotions that really bubbled to the surface too often.

"None of your business, Woman!"

You leaned back taken by surprise by the harsh tone from the larger man before the other looked at him with a harder scowl to his face.

"Shut your mouth, you overgrown mules ass!" He hissed back which made the other hiss back. "You will not utter a fucking sentence like that towards her again less I rip your tongue out through your throat!"

"Boys, don't fight." You gently lowered the cleaver until it laid upon the cutting board. Although you were secretly happy to know that you'd be defended by some part of your husband. "I only ask because usually it's not the two of you I see. Oh no. Did something bad happen?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle."

"Those dammed Haishira! That's what!" Urami threw up his hands almost hard enough to punch holes into your ceiling. "If Zohakutan had just done his dam job in the first place then I wouldn't have to be bothered with this!"

Zohakutan fully turned to him now snapping his scowl up! "I WAS THE ONE THAT KILLED THE DAMMED HAISHIRA !! All you've done was run away like a dog- No! A BITCH WITH YOUR TAIL BETWEEN YOUR LEGS YOU GIANT WALKING JACKASS!!"

"OH YOU FUCKING BRAT!! THAT'S LARGE TALK CONSIDERING YOU COULDN'T KILL HIM THE FIRST TIME!!"

You looked back and forth between the two as they shouted at one another. Now you know why they didn't come out too often. Sigh.

"I DID KILL HIM YOU WALKING SACK OF SHI-!!"

"SEKIDO AND THE OTHERS DIDN'T!!"

"IM NOT THEM!!"

"IT TAKES THE FOUR OF THEM TO MAKE YOU SO YOU STILL FAILED!!"

"THAT DOESN'T COUNT!!"

"YES IT DOES!!"

"NO IT DOESN'T!"

"BOYS!!" You're shout echoed throughout the home.

"WHAT!?""WHAT?!

Both of them snapped to your tired stare. A sigh left your mouth before your hand just grabbed the cleaver again and steadied the next chunk of meat.

"Why don't you both just come sit down for dinner? I have raw steak cutlets for you and rice for me." The cleaver made another loud THUNK sound as it collided with the wooden cutting block and slicing a thick chunk of beef in two.

Both instantly looked interested."Raw steak?"

You nodded. "I've been working all day slaving away to clean your house and make you dinner and all I get in return is the both of you arguing like children!" A scowl was thrown their way before you pointed the cleaver at them point, not in a threatening way but to just show a point of your current work. "Now BOTH of you shut up and go sit down before I rip Hantengu out of Urami's heart and feed him all of this instead!"

The two didn't say or do anything at this until they both shot each other the harshest scowls and walked into the kitchen making you sigh in relief. You thought you heard Urami mumble some kind of cursing under his breath but at least they stopped fighting..for now.

It was quite a handful having so many husbands.

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prettyobsessed · 7 months

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Part 1: .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 💫Constellations of Affection💖.˳·˖✶

☁︎/ pairings: Xavier / fem!reader

☾ / genre: romantic, fluff [sfw, safe for minors]

₊˚ / tags: safe for work, safe for minors, contains swear words, slight flirtations mentioned, fluff, romantic, sweet Xavier, angry Xavier, friendship blossoming, best friends to lovers, slow burn, continuation, fight scene, past relationship turmoil, self-improvement, drowning in work, hectic work life, kisses, hugs, super gentle

♡ / word count: 5.3k

₊⊹summary₊˚⊹

Amidst the whirlwind of a bustling life, I find solace in the unwavering presence of Xavier, my steadfast friend and protector. Despite harbouring feelings for him, I guard my heart, scarred by past relationships. As our bond deepens, I grapple with the desire to reveal my true feelings. Will I find the courage to confront my fears and express my love to Xavier?

﹌﹌﹌

As I pull away from the hug, Xavier's arms remain wrapped around me, holding me close with a tenderness that fills my heart with warmth. His gaze meets mine, and in those kind eyes, I see a reflection of the love and care he has always shown me. "Thank you for staying,” I whisper, my voice barely above a soft murmur, but the sincerity behind the words is unmistakable.

𓍢ִ໋୧🍵 ⋅₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭୧ ˙

In the bustling city of Linkon, where neon lights danced upon the urban landscape, I found solace amidst the chaos in the form of Xavier, my steadfast best friend and protector. Xavier, a Deepspace hunter dedicated to protecting civilians like myself from Wanderers, became my protector and confidant after our first encounter on a bridge near Linkon City four years ago.

Our friendship blossomed from then onwards, where we would escape the confines of our busy lives to gaze upon the stars, lost in the beauty of the night sky. Our nights are often spent together, stargazing from rooftops, sharing our hopes, dreams, and even secrets. Sometimes, Xavier would even take naps on my lap and give me gentle head pats, sending a flutter through my heart.

Amidst our shared reveries under the celestial canopy, Xavier would playfully bestow upon me various endearing nicknames, but none resonated with me as deeply as being called Princess. Whenever the word slipped from his lips, the sweet and sultry timbre of his voice carried a softness and affection that enveloped me like a comforting embrace—making me feel truly cherished.

His presence brought a sense of calm amidst the storm of my hectic life, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty. I couldn't help but feel captivated by his mysterious aura, finding him irresistibly charming and attractive.

Yet, despite these intimate moments, our relationship never progresses beyond friendship.

Despite the blossoming of affection within me, I find myself paralysed by the fear of opening my heart once more. The scars of past relationships still linger, casting a shadow of doubt over my longing for something more with Xavier. I tread carefully, concealing the depth of my emotions beneath a carefully crafted facade, praying that Xavier won't decipher the hidden turmoil beneath the surface.

Every interaction with Xavier becomes a delicate balancing act, a choreographed dance of veiled glances and cautious words. I hold my breath, fearing that the slightest slip-up will betray the secret longing I harbor within.

Yet, with each passing moment in his presence, the yearning to unburden my heart grows stronger, the desire to lay bare my soul to him almost overwhelming.

But the spectre of past heartaches looms large, haunting my every thought and action. I am burdened by the fear of repeating past mistakes, trapped by the dread of disappointment and heartbreak. And so, I remain ensnared in a silent struggle, grappling with the conflicting desires to both reveal and conceal the depths of my heart.

As a dedicated professional in the fast-paced world of the fashion industry, I often find myself immersed in a multitude of responsibilities. My days are characterised by a constant juggle of tasks, from meeting deadlines to surpassing expectations set by clients and colleagues alike. The pace is relentless, with back-to-back meetings, creative brainstorming sessions, and meticulously planned photoshoots demanding my unwavering focus and dedication.

Despite the chaotic nature of my professional life, Xavier remains a steadfast and unwavering source of support. His presence serves as a calming anchor amidst the turbulent waters of my daily routine. Whether it's offering a sympathetic ear during moments of stress or providing a reassuring smile to lift my spirits, his unwavering support is a beacon of light in the midst of my busiest days.

Xavier often frequented my apartment, and during moments of respite, I eagerly seized the opportunity to unveil my creations to him, transforming our time together into impromptu fashion shows. With each meticulously crafted garment, I sensed a subtle tension electrifying the air between us, prompting me to ponder whether it was merely the allure of the dresses drawing us closer or the unspoken emotions simmering beneath the surface.

There was a particular allure about skirts that seemed to captivate Xavier's attention. I recall one instance when I slipped into a mini skirt, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable admiration.

His excitement was palpable, and he couldn't contain his enthusiasm, clapping his hands in delight. Even as I changed into another outfit, he couldn't seem to shake the image from his mind, insisting that I don the mini skirt again for a closer look.

A mischievous spark ignited within me, nudging me to flirt back with him. Succumbing to both his charm and my own playful inclinations, I obliged, slipping back into the mini skirt and performing a slow spin that allowed him to drink in every detail.

As I stood before him, adorned in the mini skirt, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, his breath caught in awe. It was as though in that moment, the fabric of the skirt became a conduit for unspoken desires, weaving a silent narrative of longing and admiration between us. With a coy smile, I couldn't resist teasing him, suggesting that perhaps he was too enamoured with the mini skirt.

The tension between us felt noticeable, and I sought refuge in the familiarity of casual attire, hoping to diffuse the charged atmosphere and regain a sense of normalcy—though deep down, I secretly relished the idea of indulging his request.

—

Sometimes, after particularly hectic days at the office, Xavier kindly offers to give me a lift, his bike a welcome respite from the chaos of my workday. Even on days when Xavier himself seems exhausted, he always maintains a vigilant watch on the road, ensuring our safety as we navigate the bustling city streets together.

Sensitive to my needs, Xavier never rides too fast, understanding my tendency to experience motion sickness. This consideration speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and care, as he ensures our mode of transportation aligns with my comfort, sparing me the discomfort that often accompanies other forms of travel such as cars or taxis. Hence, I usually prefer taking the train—it offers a more stable and soothing journey, allowing me to arrive at our destination feeling relaxed and without any adverse effects.

Despite the occasional setbacks, our bond only grew stronger, anchored by shared moments of laughter and quiet contemplation beneath the twinkling city lights.

—

It was on one such evening, as we lay side by side on the rooftop of my apartment building, that Xavier posed a question that caught me off guard. He lay beside me, his thoughts growing louder with each passing moment.

"Can I ask you a question? What do you think of me?" His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning, and I felt my heart race with uncertainty. His eyes danced in the moonlight, a shimmering reflection of his soul, seeking answers within the depths of mine. Caught off guard by his sudden inquiry, I searched for the right words to convey the depth of my feelings for him. But as I stumbled over my response, I found myself unable to articulate the truth that lay buried within my heart.

"Honestly?" I began, my voice tinged with uncertainty. “I think you're… amazing.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I struggled to find the right words. "Your selflessness, your love for animals, and your unwavering presence shines through in every action... whether it's kindness or lending a helping hand to a friend in need. You're a rare gem in a world full of ordinary stones, and I cherish every moment we spend together.

Everything about you is so ho-“ I stuttered, the word "hot" lingering on the tip of my tongue, before quickly correcting myself. "Cool. Everything about you is cool. It's one of the many reasons why I admire you so deeply and… I’m really proud to call you my best friend.”

As I awaited Xavier's response, a wave of apprehension washed over me, my mind swirling with doubts and insecurities. But before I could question his reaction, he deftly changed the subject. "Haha," he chuckled softly, his words masking the disappointment that flickered in his eyes. "Best friend... I see," he echoed, his tone carrying a hint of resignation. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to make sense of his words.

What was that. What is going on? Was I simply reading too much into it—into his reaction? Before I could seek clarification, Xavier changed the subject, his bright facade masking turmoil within.

"Let's go! It's getting late. I’m getting sleepy already," he remarked with a fake yawn, his voice cheerful despite the underlying tension between us. I nodded, the faint rumble of approaching trains echoing through the station, heightening the urgency in his words. As we boarded the train together, the worn fabric seats welcomed us with a familiar embrace, their faded texture a testament to years of commuter traffic.

Xavier settled beside me, his presence comforting yet unnerving in the dimly lit carriage. I stole a glance at his reflection in the window, the soft hum of the train's engine creating a cocoon of sound around us. He rested his head on my shoulder, his breaths steady and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.

What did he mean by ‘Best friend…I see’? The question echoed in my mind, refusing to be silenced as I grappled with the uncertainty of our relationship. Did he also see me as more than just a friend? Or was I simply projecting my own desires onto a friendship that was never meant to be anything more?

The weight of my thoughts pressed heavily upon me as I journeyed home, the rhythmic sound of the train's wheels against the tracks serving as a backdrop to my inner turmoil. I wanted so desperately to reach out to Xavier, to confess the depth of my feelings for him, but the fear of rejection held me back, chaining me to the confines of my own insecurities.

And so, as the train rumbled onward into the night, I was left alone with my thoughts, grappling with the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring. For better or for worse, Xavier had become an indelible part of my life, his presence shaping my world in ways I had never imagined possible.

—

That night, as I lay on my bed, memories of my past relationship flooded my mind like an unwelcome torrent. Two years spent together, believing we were destined to be each other's forever, shattered in an instant when my ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my own best friend. Every whispered secret, every shared laugh, now tainted with the sting of betrayal—an irreparable fracture.

The bitter taste of betrayal tainted my perception of love, leaving me disillusioned and wary of entering another relationship.

My days became a relentless cycle of pushing myself to the limit, both physically and mentally. Yet, despite my outward transformation, the pain of betrayal lingered like a stubborn shadow, threatening to consume me at every turn. That day, I found myself unable to hold back the tears as they streamed down my face upon discovering the truth, each drop a poignant reflection of the depth of my heartache.

To escape the tormenting memories, I buried myself in work, immersing myself in tasks and projects with unwavering determination. I also poured my energy into crafting my own set of outfits as a hobby. But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, the ache of heartbreak remained a constant companion—a haunting reminder of the love lost and the trust shattered.

Yet, just when hope seemed all but lost, a flicker of light appeared on the horizon. That is, a year after the devastation of my past, I met Xavier. His presence breathed new life into my world, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of my despair. Little did I know, he would become the beacon of love and healing that I had long believed to be lost.

As I pondered back to Xavier's words, my eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. Soon, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, diving into its depths.

—

Ever since then, life became a whirlpool—sucking me into its chaotic currents. It's my typical coping mechanism to bury myself in work, a futile attempt to escape thoughts of Xavier. Days blurred into nights filled with endless work and overtime, a relentless cycle that offered temporary distraction. Then, amidst the hustle, a familiar ping broke through the monotony—a text from Xavier. ‘Princess. U busy? I’m craving for soba noodles suddenly. Wanna eat 2gt?' his messages popped up one by one. Again, his simple words stirred a flutter of emotions within me, and I couldn't help but blush.

Xavier's persistent attempts to meet up tugged at my heartstrings, but I resisted, afraid to deepen my feelings for him and disrupt the delicate balance of our relationship. ‘Kinda tired tonight. Another day okie? Sorry🤍’, I replied, my fingers tapping out the message with a weariness that mirrored my exhaustion. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me as I left the office well past midnight.

The city streets, usually bustling with life, now felt eerily deserted as I made my way to the train station. Boarding the train homeward, fatigue threatened to pull me into slumber. The train's bell-like chime jolted me awake as it announced my stop, piercing through the haze of fatigue that clouded my mind.

I alighted at my stop, the deserted train station casting eerie shadows in the late-night silence. Each step echoed off the empty walls, my weariness dragging me down like an anchor as I trudged wearily up the stairs. Thoughts raced through my mind, a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling in the darkness of the night.

As I ascended to the top of the stairs, exhaustion bore down on my shoulders, threatening to engulf me. Abruptly, a figure emerged from the shadows, jolting me out of my reverie. Before I could react, we collided.

Nearly stumbling backward, my heart raced in my chest as I struggled to comprehend the situation. With a shaky hand, I reached out to steady myself against the railing. "Watch where you're going, dumbass.” The harshness of this rugged-looking stranger voice pierced the stillness, stirring a knot of anxiety in my stomach. It was a jarring encounter, snapping me out of my tired stupor and reminding me of the harsh realities of the world outside my bubble of work and avoidance.

“I’m so sor-“, my voice trailed off. As I strained to identify the source of the voice, a sense of dread crept over me. The intonation, the cadence—it all felt uncomfortably familiar. Oh no. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I peered closer, and there he was: Leon, his presence like a ghost from my past, haunting me in the dead of night.

For a moment, I was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend how our paths had crossed again after all these years. But then, as his words registered in my mind, I felt a surge of anger rising within me, pushing aside the fear that threatened to consume me. “Wait… (your name), is that you?” Leon's voice cut through the tension, his tone filled with surprise and a hint of uncertainty. "Leon," I replied, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Trying to ease the tension, I added, “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

But before he could answer, his demeanour shifted, his eyes softening with an emotion I couldn't quite place. “(Your name)…” he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry." His unexpected apology caught me off guard, momentarily halting my rising fury. But as I struggled to process his sudden change in attitude, he reached out to grab both my arms, his presence, like a repulsive chill, sent waves of disgust through me.

“It’s been years and I still miss you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can't we just talk?"

I recoiled at his touch, feeling repulsed by the memories of our tumultuous past flooding back. "No," I said firmly, my voice edged with apprehension. "We can't." But as I attempted to pull away, his grip tightened like a vice, his fingers digging into my skin with a disturbing intensity. "Please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation and a hint of madness. "I really miss you."

In that moment, panic flooded through me, memories of past betrayal threatening to overwhelm once again as I attempted to break free from his touch. Leon's expression turned aggressive, his grip tightening on my arms as I struggled to break free. I attempted to flee from his grasp, but he wouldn’t relent.

Leon's voice erupted into a furious crescendo, each word dripping with venomous anger. "Bitch! You think you're hot shit now? Who are you fucking now, huh?” His aggressive tone sent shockwaves of fear coursing through me, urging me to escape his tightening grip. Desperation clawed at my mind as I screamed for help, the haunting memories of our tumultuous past intensifying the terror of the present moment.

Summoning a surge of determination, I gathered every ounce of resolve within me, channeling it into a fierce effort to break free from Leon's suffocating grip. With a desperate lunge, I wrenched myself from his grasp, feeling the weight of his hold relinquish as I staggered downward, my heart pounding with the urgency of escape.

The reverberation of my voice in the desolate station amplified the intensity of my fear. I struggled against Leon's vice-like grip, panic coursing through me as I frantically scanned the empty surroundings for any sign of assistance. Yet, the late hour rendered the station eerily deserted, devoid of any potential saviours. In the grip of terror, my thoughts instinctively turned to Xavier, the one person I yearned to have by my side in that moment. The memory of his unwavering strength and protective presence ignited a flicker of courage within me. Drawing upon every ounce of resolve, I broke free from Leon's grasp, staggering backward in a desperate bid for escape.

“Get away from me!" I cried out, my voice trembling with a potent mix of fear and fury. As I darted up the stairs to get to the street and find help, my heart pounding in my ears, Leon's menacing presence loomed behind me. With a sudden, forceful movement, he seized hold of my hair, his grip unyielding and merciless—anchoring me to the ground with a jolt of pain and terror.

I found myself sprawled on the unforgiving ground, my arms instinctively forming a feeble barrier against Leon's relentless assault. With every ounce of determination I could muster, I unleashed a powerful kick aimed squarely at his groin. The impact sent shockwaves of pain through his body, doubling him over in agony, his knees crashing to the ground as a guttural cry escaped his lips.

Despite the adrenaline-fueled panic coursing through my veins and the tremors that racked my body, I persisted in my struggle against him, each futile attempt to break free intensifying the sense of desperation and urgency in the air.

Leon's face contorted into a menacing snarl as he regained his composure. He lunged towards me once more, but before he could reach me, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Xavier. With his imposing presence and determined stance, Xavier swiftly intercepted, closing the distance between us and Leon with remarkable speed. Without hesitation, he delivered a powerful punch to my attacker—his silhouette blurring with the force of his strike.

His usually gentle gaze now burned with an intense darkness as he confronted Leon, ready to protect me at all costs.

“Fucking coward,” Xavier spat, his eyes blazing with anger as he delivered another forceful blow to Leon's face. “Don’t you fucking dare lay a finger on her again.” With each punch, Xavier's resolve only seemed to strengthen, his determination to defend me evident in the unwavering force behind his blows.

Xavier subdued Leon with practiced ease, pinning him to the ground. The weight of his authority was palpable in the air.

As Xavier continued to rain down blows upon Leon, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoed in the dimly lit space. It punctuated the tension with each impactful strike. It was a visceral dance of justice against brutality, a raw display of Xavier's resolve to protect me. The sight of Leon, bloodied and bruised, bore witness to Xavier's unwavering commitment to my safety.

Never before had I seen Xavier so consumed by rage. It was as though he had transformed into an entirely different person, his usual calm demeanour replaced by a ferocity that I had never witnessed before.

Leon, now all bloodied up, stared up at Xavier in shock and disbelief. His bravado shattered by the force of Xavier's righteous fury.

“If you’re anywhere near her or touch her again, I’m gonna make sure you won’t see the daylight,” Xavier warned, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction, leaving no room for doubt or negotiation.

With fear etched on his face, Leon scrambled to his feet and bolted in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him.

With Leon's retreat, the tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the faint sounds of the night. Xavier's gaze lingered on the spot where Leon had stood, his expression a mix of resolve and concern.

Turning towards me, his face a portrait of pure concern, I could still see the remnants of his earlier anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Are you hurt?" Xavier's voice softened with genuine concern as he focused his attention on me, his hand reaching out to gently cradle my cheek. His touch was warm against my skin, a soothing balm to the chaos that had unfolded moments before. I shook my head, my breaths ragged as I leaned against the solid cement pillar for support. As I attempted to rise, Xavier's reassuring presence steadied me, his strong arms providing stability. Gratitude flooded through me, knowing that once again, Xavier had rushed to my aid, much like that pivotal night at the bridge.

"Thank you… Xav," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with emotion as I met his gaze. "How did you know where I was?" I asked, my heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. Xavier's expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and concern. "I was worried about you," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, a comforting hand supporting my back. “I just had a feeling something wasn't right, so I wanted to check on you. I'm relieved I found you when I did."

Despite the lingering rush of adrenaline, I found solace in Xavier's protective presence and his timely intervention.

Xavier's eyes scanned my face, his brow furrowed with genuine worry as he assessed my injuries. "We need to make sure you're alright," he insisted softly, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. Taking my hand in his, he effortlessly hoisted me onto his back, his actions speaking volumes about his commitment to my well-being. As we hurried through the quiet night together, Xavier bearing my weight, a sense of security enveloped me in his embrace. Despite the lingering fear and uncertainty, I found solace in relying on him for support, grateful for his unwavering strength and care.

"I can walk just fine, you know... You don’t have to carry me," I admitted sheepishly, a blush tinting my cheeks as I acknowledged my dependency, my face nestled between his shoulder and neck. Xavier's gaze shifted slightly as he turned his head, locking eyes with me in a reassuring manner. "I want to make sure you receive proper care. We're heading to the hospital to have your injuries checked," he explained calmly, his voice filled with determination to ensure my well-being.

“You’re so dramatic, it’s just a scratch!” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Xavier sighed and replied, "Ok fine, but let’s at least go to the nearby clinic?" I nodded in agreement, grateful for his compromise and his insistence on ensuring my well-being.

With each step, his purposeful stride conveyed his unwavering resolve to take care of me, easing my apprehension about seeking medical attention. The cool night air enveloped us as we moved forward, Xavier's presence providing a comforting shield against the uncertainty that lingered in the darkness.

—

After receiving care and ointments from the clinic, Xavier accompanies me all the way back to my apartment, ensuring my safety with his tender manner and attentive care. With each step, his strength supports me, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling storm of emotions within me. As he guides me through the door, his touch is reassuring, grounding me in the reality of his protective embrace.

Once inside, Xavier assists me in removing my shoes and leads me to my bedroom with a confident, fluid grace. As he settles me onto the bed, his expression shifts between concern and determination, evident in the focused way he prepares to apply the ointment to my scratch.

"Wait," I interject, sitting up. "I'd like to shower first. I don't feel comfortable resting on my bed in my outside clothes."

Xavier nods understandingly, his eyes reflecting his unwavering support. "Of course. Would you like me to leave then?" he asks, gesturing towards the door with a gentle motion.

I pause, considering how to express my desire for his company. However, honesty prevails in my mind. “No, please stay," I reply, grateful for his presence. "Could you help me blow dry my hair after?" Xavier's surprise is evident, but a soft smile graces his lips as he realises I trust him enough to ask for his assistance. "Of course," he says, his voice warm with reassurance.

Stepping into the shower, the warm water envelops me in a comforting embrace. Thoughts of Xavier flood my mind, his timely arrival a beacon of hope in my darkest moment. Gratitude swells within me for his unwavering support, though questions about how he found me linger in the recesses of my mind.

Once refreshed and renewed, I search for Xavier and find him peacefully asleep on my couch. Bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, his expression is serene, imbuing the room with a sense of calm. Drawing closer, I marvel at the tranquility that surrounds him, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm in the stillness of the night.

Studying his features, I notice the gentle fall of his hair and the subtle curve of his lips softened in slumber. A small leaf rests atop his head, a whimsical detail that brings a smile to my lips. As I reach out to remove it, a droplet of water from my hair lands on his chest, causing him to stir and awaken.

Xavier blinks sleepily, his gaze softening with warmth as he focuses on me. “I-I’m sorry!” I stammer, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "I didn't mean to disturb your sleep. There was a leaf on your head, and I simply wanted to remove it. Look!” I explain, holding up the leaf as evidence. He chuckles softly, the sound carrying a warmth that melts away any lingering tension.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, softened by the lingering tendrils of sleep, yet resonating with a sincerity that soothes my unease. As he unfurls from his slumber-induced cocoon, the fabric of his shirt tautens, tracing the contours of his toned abdomen with a subtle grace. A delicate flush of warmth blossoms across my cheeks, suffusing them with a soft, ethereal glow, like the first blush of dawn.

With a quiet determination, Xavier rises to his feet, a stalwart figure against the backdrop of uncertainty. The ointment, a healing elixir, already nestled in his hand, ready to tend to the tender wounds etched upon my skin. His touch is gentle yet purposeful, each movement deliberate as he tends to my grazed cheek and elbows, a silent vow of protection and care woven into his actions.

“Now, where can I find your hair dryer?” Xavier asks, his eagerness evident in the sparkle of his eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. The dim light of the room casts soft shadows across his features, adding to his allure as he waits patiently for my response.

Guiding him to the location of my hair dryer, I make my way to the kitchen to prepare some refreshments. The aroma of chocolate muffins wafts through the air as they warm up in the oven, filling the kitchen with a tantalising scent. Meanwhile, I carefully brew a fragrant cup of green tea, the steam rising gently from the cup as it steepens.

Returning to my room with the refreshments in hand, I find Xavier already waiting. With a warm smile, I place the food and drink on my side table, gesturing for him to sit on my dressing stool while I settle onto the bed beside him. As he inspects the wetness of my hair, I can't help but notice the soft glow of the streetlights seeping through the window, casting a tranquil ambiance over the room.

Handing him the hair dryer, I set it to medium heat and watch as Xavier meticulously blow-dries my hair with the brush I provided. Each movement is executed with care and tenderness, his focused attention ensuring my comfort throughout the process. Xavier playfully teases me about the small leaf in his hair, insisting I placed it there, to which I respond with mock offense, playfully stuffing a chocolate muffin into his mouth. Laughter fills the room, muffled by the treat, as we enjoy this lighthearted moment together.

“All done,” Xavier announces with a smile as he switches off the hair dryer.

Throughout the interaction, I can't help but feel a sense of warmth and affection for Xavier, grateful for his unwavering support and the comfort of his presence. The glimmer of streetlights seeps through the window, casting a soft glow on Xavier's features, particularly his blue eyes. In that moment, a tranquil stillness envelops my apartment.

As the sound of the hair dryer fades, I rise from my stool and move towards Xavier, who remains seated on my bed. I wrap my arms around him in a heartfelt embrace, my gratitude overflowing for his timely rescue. Overwhelmed by my emotions, I surrender to the warmth of the moment with Xavier. With a gentle kiss planted on his cheek, I convey the depth of my appreciation, cherishing this intimate connection between us.

Xavier's warm smile softens his features, his eyes brimming with tenderness as he gently reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. "Princess, from this moment forward, I vow to protect you wherever life may lead," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody that brings peace to my soul. Nestled in our peaceful embrace, cocooned in warmth and affection, I realise the depth of the bond between us. This connection is precious, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty.

With a contented sigh, I nuzzle closer to Xavier, guiding his head to rest on my chest, where he finds solace in the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. His arms around me are a sanctuary, offering solace and comfort in a world of chaos. And in that moment, I know with unwavering certainty that I am exactly where I belong.

Moved by the depth of my emotions, I lift Xavier’s head to meet my gaze, cupping his chin with my hand, and without a word, I press my lips softly against his, sealing our love with a tender kiss. It's a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, expressing all the love and gratitude that fills my heart. As our kiss deepens, I feel a sense of completeness wash over me, as if I've finally found my home in Xavier's embrace.

Reluctantly parting, breathless and exhilarated, a sparkle in Xavier's eyes reflects the emotions swirling within my own heart. In the lingering sweetness of our embrace, I know that our love will endure, steadfast and true, through every twist and turn that life may bring.

—by prettyobsessed⋆˚✿˖°

Editor’s note: So sorry! Work has been so hectic, but I hope this piece that I wrote will make your heart flutter♡

It’s for my Xavier gurlies; those who love his gentle side. Will Part 2 show more of a darker side to him? Stay tuned! For a bad boy Xavier ✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧

On a side, side note: I realise I enjoy writing slow burn scenarios. Do you guys prefer a fast-paced one instead? Feel free to let me know!

—

this content is copyrighted by @prettyobsessed. all rights are reserved. it is prohibited to replicate, imitate, plagiarise, or repost my content on any other platform without authorisation. translations are also not permitted unless proper credit is given🌷

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