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theblueflower05 · 1 year

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Just a Little Taste

A/N: Welp. Somehow my breeding/breastfeeding kinks manifested themselves into a story. I wrote this sky high on painkillers and I am a little in love with the whole premise. @tiredmamaissy -I hope more than anything that you enjoy this. You deserve all of the goodness on this site. Your Masterlist is my personal spank bank lol

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: This story is Filthy. Smut with very little plot. Breastfeeding. Pussy Eating. Slight mommy kink if you squint. Very pregnant reader getting pleasured, because pregnant beings can still be sexual. Aged up!Neteyam

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: You’re eight months pregnant with Neteyams child, and after a long day, you both need a little relief. Neteyam x Human! Reader

"Sugar, Honey, Iced Tea

Bumble-bee on the scene.

Yeah, I'd give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie"

- See You Again, Tyler the Creator ft Kali Uchis

Life in the village is always busy. Constantly bustling with life and movement as everyone; human scientist, Avatar and Na’vi alike, rush to keep things afloat.

High Camp is so different then Home Tree had been, the rage of war adding a constant edge to long days and restless nights. You miss the comfort of a slow life, of hazy days down in the jungle. The jagged cliffs of the Hallelujah Mountains still don’t quite feel like home to you.

Still, you go about your daily duties.

Being a Pandoran raised human had always given you a different insight, the two massively different cultures you we’re brought up in clashing and mending to create a skill set that was like no other- it had taken many years of painful trial and error to find your place within the Omiticaya, but healing had always come naturally.

Both holistic and surgical alike. You’d spent years shadowing Mo’at and learning the ancient herbal ways of the people, while well as taking advantage of the many PHD toting scientist back at Hell’s Gate. Medicine had no boundaries, was a way for you to feel close to both sides of yourself. To broach the gap between human and clansman.

You find your skills being needed more than ever. The ever constant raids against the RDA means your hands are rarely idle, forever in movement as you tend to the wounded. Some days you sit in the big Healers Tent with Mo’at and the other Taskarem, and others you’re in the makeshift Medi Bay, which is really more of an Avatar Pod Trailer turned OR, with the handful of human surgeons.

The long hours spent on your feet leave you sore and exhausted, but you have to pull your weight.

Even if said weight is far heavier than usual as of late-

“Y/N” you’re broken out of your thoughts by Max- as he enters the trailer with a holo-tab in hand and a concerned look in his dark eyes “What are you still doing here?”

“I was just finishing up inventory- our antibiotic stock is back way up. Jake was right, those helicopter raids were more than worth it” you’d sorted out the tiny vials of vital medicine by hand, not wanting any to be misplaced or mislabeled.

“You don't think maybe you should head home?” He continues and you sigh.

You miss your tent, and the soft bed of furs that lay inside the secure warm flaps. And the man that waits for you inside of the patchwork leather walls-

“I’m fine” you assure. And really, you are.

It's a fact you have to keep reminding people of.

Yes, you’re as big as a Strumbeast, but you are no less competent. No less able bodied.

Pregnancy is one of the most natural parts of life, a base staple in all’s existence. There are plenty of pregnant Omiticaya women who were expected to play their roles, even as the battle raged outside the safety of the mountain cave system.

It was the nature of your pregnancy that was more…fragile then average. Inside your womb grew a child that would be the first of it’s kind. A scientific mystery: no one had even known it was possible for Na’vi and humans to procreate.

And yet all of the evidence now lies under your shirt. Your stomach round and pronounced, full of growing life.

Full of the love between you and the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son.

Neteyam had left his permanent mark on you. Had part of himself growing inside of you. The thoughts we’re enough to make your knees buckle if you focused on them too hard.

“You’ve been here since 6am, you really should get some rest. Take one of the empty bunks if you want. Have you checked your blood pressure-”

You’re a grown woman. You’re not going to huff and puff and roll your eyes, but fuck, do you want to.

Everyone was so overbearing lately.

Norm and Max we’re constantly breathing down your neck; “The baby has a different growth rate then a human child, we need to monitor the way that your body is responding” Followed closely by Jake who watches you with sharp eagle like eyes and Neytiri, who used to all but ignore your presence, constantly checking in on you throughout the day. Mo’at’s always poking and prodigy, and Kiri almost always has her hands on you in some way shape or form.

You are glad for the support, happy that this baby would be so loved.

But really, you missed being treated like the competent, independent woman you knew you we’re.

“My blood pressure is fine. I thought since we ruled out preeclampsia we weren’t going to worry about it anymore” you know that it’s not going to silence his worry, but still. You can try.

Max goes on one of his science mambo jumbo spiels, and by the end of it you’re waddling out of the lab and back to your hut, annoyed as shit but placating your pseudo father figure all the same. Only a month and a half mor of this and then things could go back to normal.

Everything had just…changed so quickly.

You 're a caretaker by nature. Caring for others is easy, feels right. You’d tucked the much older scientists into bed when you we’re just a pre-teen. Made dinners. Looked out for Spider and the other Sully’s-

And the role reversal still didn't quite sit right with you. Your control freak ways didn't do well with not being the one in charge- you’d been stripped of your title so to speak. You we’re supposed to relax into your new role, enjoy being doted over before the nine month’s we’re over.

You and Neteyam’s shared tent is in the centered in the cave, close to his families, but standing on its own. As private as anyone could get in the busy, close quartered camp. The walls of the hut are familiar, adorned with your combined belongings. Cozy and familiar.

You shimmy free of your confining bra, step out of your cargo pants, then toe off your boots, releasing your swollen sock covered feet with a groan before collapsing into your well loved bed, the soft blankets and familiar scent of your mate lulling you into a deep state of peace.

It’s kind of wild how quickly you can fall asleep these days. Growing a little person from scratch tends to burn a lot of energy and the moment you relax, you’re out like a light.

You don't wake up, even when the horns are sounded for the return of the War Party.

Not when Neteyam makes his way through the camp and enters the tent. He’s wearty, grime covered and hunched over. He only softens when he sees you, tucked safely, into his bed. Your eyes still closed and face still scrunched up as he strips out of his battle band and shin covers. He’s quiet, washing off with the large freshwater basin in the corner before making his way over to his much-missed bed mat.

It isn't until he's crawled under the blankets and wiggled his way as close to you as possible that you begin to stir. His large cat like snout nuzzles into the vulnerable crevice of your neck, chuffing hot breaths against the smooth skin.

You’re not upset at him for waking you up, a drowsy half alert smile stretches over your lips as your hands run up his strong back. Gently working the tense muscles.

He gets so greedy when he comes back from the War runs. He needs to be comforted, to be held and you are all too willing to comply.

Everyone else infantiles you now, and yeah, Neteyam could get a little intense and overprotective, but your relationship had always worked because you were the one person in all of Pandora that babied the future chief.

He was such a sweet man, with so much responsibility on his plate. You loved nothing more than holding him in your arms. Letting him release any and all tension because you had him. You, a tiny soft skinned human, were the barrier between him and the ruthless world.

You’d be such a great mother to his children. His hind brain purrs at the thought. That even through all of the controversy, he knows he’d chosen the right mate. Little and fierce, he hopes the baby is just like you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tone hushed in the darkness of the tent. The only light coming from the small dying embers of the firepit in the center of the space. Hypnotic shadows dance along the canvas walls and Neteyam's breathing grows shallow as he sinks into it.

The way you smell. The way your heart beats, strong against his cheek. The way your plump body feels so good under his wandering hands. He hadn't been okay, just moments ago. He was delirious, so sick of the fighting that he felt ill with it.

But how could any of those bad feelings exist when he had you waiting for him? Ready to welcome him into your body, your heart, your mind. He doesn't think he could survive without knowing the solace of your love.

“I’m okay, narlor(beauty). Just missed you” he mutters, still trying to dig his face deeper into your skin. He wants to escape inside of you, you chuckle at his futile attempts to mend you both into one entity. His large palms rest against your bloated belly, tenderly and your heart flutters “Missed you both so much”

Being so loved is overwhelming.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

“I missed you, my sweet baby. I missed you all day” you assure him with the words you know he needs to hear. “Our son here thought it would be fun to jump on his sa’nok’s bladder all day. It was like was playing the wokau(pendulum drum) all day long- I spent hours in running back and forth to the bathroom”

Neteyam's laugh is deep and rich. Thoroughly pleased to listen to your stories of your day, eager to hear every minute detail. Desperate to drown out visions of blood and gun smoke with your voice.

“Ah, you have to be nice to your momma, little one” he chastises the bump, raising your shirt over your head, wanting that flimsy barrier gone. His lips trail over the tight skin of your bulging belly as he speaks to his child.

Your son, still safe inside your soft body, knows his fathers voice already. Recognizes that slightly accented cadence, and squirms inside of you happily.

Neteyam usually speaks strictly in Na’vi to your unborn child-

“He needs to know the language of our people, first and foremost”

-he’ll spend hours whispering his mother tongue into your flesh. It always leaves you boneless and shaking. Feeling so special and cared for. Na’vi, though your second language, is familiar to you. You’re fluent in the language- but fuck. The way your mate speaks it is the most beautiful thing. It’s musical, he tells sprawling stories with his colorful words.

There is one English he’s very fond of though. Every time it leaves his plush mouth it makes you grin, sharp. Knowingly.

“Are you gonna be nice to momma, Neteyam?” you question him after a while. His ears quirk, swiveling on his head and his tale flicks once, in obvious excitement.

You know what he’s wanted, ever since he woke you up by nuzzling at your chest. Ever since he peeled off your top and left your heavy breasts bare. Did he think you missed the way his golden gaze would flick to them, eyeing them hungrily.

He needs this as much as you do, but as usual, your sweet boy is too selfless to ask. Won't trouble you with his wants unless you bring it up first.

You reach for his big hand that rests on your belly, and drag it to where you need him. His palm enveloping your tits, the rough callus’s catching on your sensitive nipple just right-

Your pregnancy had been different than regular humanoid pregnancies. Your body worked hard, thrown into overdrive in an attempt to keep up with the fast growing fetus in your womb. You’d started lactating months ago, far earlier then normal. Your breasts firm, full with milk. Ready to feed the child that had not yet come into the world.

At first it had been both painful and embarrassing. You had no child to drink what you were producing and the other breastfeeding women in the tribe we’re hesitant to feed their babies your tawtute(human) milk. Already over emotional due to the hormone change, you’d wept at the fact that you had no one to give what your body readily made.

The fact that you couldn't be a bigger part of your community due to your human heritage, combined with the intense pain that came from having backed up ducts had been too much,

Eventually you’d turned to Neteyam, both your eyes and shirt soaking wet. Begged him to help you. And of course, as always, he did.

It should be awkward, or shameful- but connecting with him on any level is something you cherish. Why would this be any different?

“I’m always nice to you, aren't I, love?” Neteyam gruffs as he gently works at the breast in his hands. Its firm and full of milk, his mouth waters “Do they hurt again?”

“Mhmm” you whine pathetically, and you’re not lying. The skin of your chest is now marred by stretch marks and you’d had to stuff precious, hard to come by toilet paper down your bra all day to keep them from spilling over “They’re so full, Nete”

“Oh” He hums, thumbing at your nipple “Poor momma, I’ll help you. Don't worry” his lips are wet against your skin as he kisses his way to your breast, his tongue peeking out to circle your puffy nipple. A pearlescent drop of milk tops the rosy bud and he groans as it hits his taste buds.

He tells you that you taste good, often. The juices of your pussy, your spit soaked kisses. He’s always been greedy for it, his tongue bullying its way into your holes, desperate for your essence. Your milk is just as delicious as the rest of you.

It quickly goes from kitten licking, wide wet stripes against your pebbled nipple to sucking your big breast as far into his mouth as he could. Careful of his fangs as he gorges himself on your flesh.

He’s loudly appreciative as he suckles on your nipple. Grunting and humming and moaning at the flavor. Your arms come around him, cradling his head to your bosom because it feels so good. Having him this close, knowing that he'd do anything to take care of you. That he truly loved the way you tasted-

Many people thought you and Neteyam would never last. It was lust, they’d claim. Curiosity. A childhood friendship that would fizzle out eventually. Na’vi needed Tsaheylu, it was the lifeblood of all their relationships. Why would the much desired future Olo’eyktan stay with you if he couldn't even properly bond you?

While you couldn't deny that there we’re doubt filled moments that you yourself wondered why he’d chosen you and stayed so loyal to you…you still felt your own form of connection to him. While you’d love to make that sacred bond with him, you didn't feel any less close to your mate.

You never thought that you could be so intertwined with another being.

As Neteyam takes his fill from your breast, you massage the base of his Kuru, firm enough that it makes him hiss. You have no special braid of your own, but he’s always been very free with his when it comes to you.

You can do with as you please. Stroke it. Lick it. Massage it. Hell, he’d even let you touch glowing pink tendrils at the end of it before. Let you feel his exposed nerves, so vulnerable and raw in your hands that he had shed tears as you explored.

Nothing was taboo in your relationship. There was no space undiscovered between you.

Your bodies we’re so very different, and yet you knew his like the back of your hand. All of the strong muscles and hard sinew. The cobalt expanse of his skin didn't have one blemish that you haven't memorized. You could point out his striped pattern in a sea of other Na’vi.

And he knows you right back.

Loves to dig his fingers into your doughy hips, into your pillowy thighs. Your wide ass and ample chest. He loves your form, goes crazy for all of your alien curves. He never cared for your human modesty, he’d wanted to part your ass cheeks and stare at plump of your pussy for as long as he could remember. Wanted to strip you of all of those clothes and just stare.

The fact that he gets to do just that, for the rest of your lives, is his favorite, favorite thing.

You watch him eagerly as he slowly nurses. You can't get enough of the sight of him, his hollowed cheeks, the bob of his throat as he swallows your free flowing milk. He's so strong, his muscles flex in the dim light. All of that strength, and yet he’s so very gentle with you, his rough tongue laving at your sore buds every couple minutes. Soothing and tickling you all the same.

You giggle at a particularly quick swipe, letting out a small squeal as Neteyam’s tongue plays with the flesh in his mouth. His eyes peek open, glittering with mirth and low boiling heat as he meets your gaze. Whin his lips split into a smile, a dribble of translucent white milk escapes. Trickles down from the corners of his lips.

Heat pulses between your legs and you know he can smell how aroused you are.

Neteyam has always been able to turn you on without even trying. A well spoken word, or even a pointed look could get you running your thighs together. All desperate to get him alone and put your hands all over him.

You hate that you cant kiss him the way you want to, your Exo Mask, while necessary to your survival can be suck a fucking menace sometimes.

Your thumb traces his lips, the ones you want pressed against your own so bad. You rub the spilled milk from his chin. Cleaning him up in a way that's so simple, and so beyond erotic.

He breaks eye contact first, like he just can't look at you anymore. His brows all scrunched up, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He releases your sloppy nipple, completely covered in his saliva, and presses his face against the damp skin. Making a sound of distress.

Your fingernails skritch at his scalp, tangled in his many braids “What is it, baby?”

“I wanna fuck you so bad. Eywa, do you even smell yourself, Y/N? So good. I have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” You nod, agreeing blindly. He can have whatever he wants.

“Fuck you hard, though. Gotta pound you. I know I shouldn't but it’ll be alright, huh? Won't hurt the baby?” his face is still buried in your skin, you cant even see his expression as he pleads for your pussy. It makes you so hot.

You push at his chest, needing him to get off of you for just a moment. He’s heavy as shit, a dead weight- doesn't really move until you're pouting and demanding for him to just give you a little space.

Enough that you can wiggle out of your panties and spread your thighs wide for him. Your swollen, sticky pussy on display for your mate.

His nostrils flare, and his thin tail whips wildly behind him.

When he swings your thick thighs up onto his broad shoulders, you let out a low, appreciative moan.

“Such a good boy for momma” you praise him the way the people praise the Great Mother. The cradle of your thighs a sanctuary where you both come to worship.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welp, I should be finishing up Part Three of First Love/Late Spring or plotting out future installments of The Sweetest Sylaung, but here I am writing nursing filth. Lol I truly have zero regrets, this story was so very self fulfilling(even though it partially came from a request). I hope you guys enjoyed though

As mentioned many times before, requests are currently open. Please send in all that good shit. I could use a good distraction from real life!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully smut #aged up neteyam #Neteyam x pregnant reader

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d6volution · 6 months

Text

Ringmaster.

Rating: Explicit.

Caine/Reader. | Fem aligned reader.

tags: fingering, body modification, aphrodisiacs.

minors dni.

Chapter 1: Escapades.

It had been about a week since you showed up, well got stuck in this digital world. Instead of wallowing in your bedroom, you decided to take a walk towards the digital lake. Trying to recreate the feeling of getting 'fresh air.'' For a moment you actually felt.. at ease until a bustling voice startled you.

"Gooood morning, Y/N!" Caine said, a little too loudly for your liking. "I hope you got all the artificial sleep you needed, because you and I are going on a very special adventure today!" Caine was floating next to you, as you hadn't stopped walking.

His announcer voice was definitely more overwhelming and somehow louder in the early hours of the morning. "Wait.. us? What kind of adventure?" The words just clicked, he doesn't.. usually go on adventures with you all.

"Worry not my dear, that's exactly where we're going now!" He exclaimed and twirled his baton until it was facing you for added dramatic effect. He wrapped his arm around your waist and much like during the tour on your first day, he yanked you into the tent in mere seconds. But in a more secluded section of the brightly colored building.

You were dizzy and holding your head as your feet were somehow on the ground now. "Wh.. Wha.."

What you didn't notice until your dizzy spell faded was the heaviness to your chest and .. other strange feeling in parts of your body you hadn't felt before. Your once "normal" body ... well— in the digital sense at least, was closer to humans now. You still had the same outfit, but now it was filled out with sizely breasts among other things.

"Caine.. what is this..? What the [censor!] did you do!?"

"Now now, what did I say about such foul language? And that my sweet little, Y/N is all going to be explained .... Right now!" He spun into the air, raising his hands to keep the dramatics up to par.

"You see, your giddy old ring master here needs entertainment of his own don't you agree!? So you will be that entertainment! And don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll even give you a head start!"

He said and snapped his fingers, and just then you felt a strange sensation course through your body, it caused your knees to buckle and body to grow immensely hot. "W.. What's going on..." You muttered, feeling heat grow between your legs and nipples growing hard against your clothes.

Caine was staring for a moment, watching you fall apart at the snap of his fingers.

He cleared his throat, "Now this should be very simple and might I say fun too! Just keep your body satiated and satisfied and the effects still eventually wear off!"

"S.. Satisfied.. you can't mean.." He wanted you to masturbate!?

"Oh , but I mean it my dear! Now chop chop!" He waved his baton and a floating chair appeared, just a few feet above the ground. Caine sat down and watched.

"You can't be s-serious.. ! I can't do that while you're.. watching!" You felt extremely self conscious , but just as he said your body was becoming increasingly hot and the urge to touch yourself only grew with every passing second. Your mind was clouding with lust and your better judgement was flying out the window.

"If I don't watch how else am I supposed to keep tally off everytime you climax my dear? It's very important to keep count!" As he spoke a chalkboard appeared next to him, also seamlessly floating in the air.

"Oh! Perhaps it'd be better if we had more company?? I could invite Zooble! Or even Jax!" He exclaimed, speaking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"N.. No, no!" You had to save yourself from further humiliation. You looked up, and Caine wasn't in his chair anymore.

Suddenly you felt two hands groping your chest from behind, and you yelped in surprise. Unfortunately whatever Caine did to your body was having such a strong effect that you were melting into his hands.

"See? Was that so hard dear! You just needed a little push is all!" Caine spoke from behind you, without hesitation he slipped his hand up your shirt and groped your bare breasts instead, pinching at your nipple which made your knees weak.

"C.. Caine, sensitive..!" You whined, grabbing his arm, but he didn't stop.

"That's the point im afraid! Perhaps if you started sooner you wouldn't as sensitive but! Now that I think about it I prefer it this way!" He laughed , the sound reverberating throughout the room.

Your hand seemed to move on its own, trailing towards your cunt that was already leaking. You stuck your hands in your pants and began to rub gentle circles onto your clit, it was so sensitive that your own legs closed around your hand. "Please..hha.."

Your noises were like music to his ears, causing him to 'accidentally' pull at one of your nipples rather hard, causing you to yelp and jolt in his arms.

"Whoops! Sorry my dear, seems my hands have a mind of their own today!"

He could see your hand disappearing into your pants, sensing how gentle you were being with yourself seemed to make him just a little.. agitated. "Now now, you'll have to do better than that!" One of his hands pulled itself from your shirt and instead yanked your hand from your pants. Replacing it with his own.

You were too deep in this cloud of lust, and body subsequently too weak to fight back against his advances.. not like you really wanted to anymore.—

"Ah, here we are!" He stuck two fingers inside of your wet cunt, and they slipped in with ease. He didn't take his time and immediately pumped them in and out at a rapid pace. Behind that jolly visage was an incredibly impatient man it seems.

"C.. Caine, Caine..! Hhaa! Please!" You whined and babbled out as he mercilessly fingered your hungry cunt.

"That's my name, don't wear it out my dear! Now how about a third?" He added another finger, stretching your cunt out deliciously on his fingers. Yet you still took it with ease, and after a few more pumps your body got tense, knees buckling as you cried out in pleasure.

"You made quite the mess I'm afraid!" He commented and slowly removed his fingers from your cunt, running his big tongue along his dirtied fingers.

"Caine.. finished now..?" You said, leaning against him for support. And he held you firm enough that you wouldn't fall.

"Of course not dear! The tallyboard isn't here for nothing , we're just getting started after all!" He says with pure excitement and just like he said..

there was one mark on the tally board.

#minors dni #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus caine #tadc caine #caine x reader #caine x reader smut

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petit-etoile · 5 months

Text

i need you when i'm falling apart

pairing . ⊱ astarion x tav wordcount . ⊱ 3,489 part one . ⊱ here . content warnings . ⊱ mentions of canon compliant temporary character death, spoilers for act iii endgame other tags . ⊱ canon compliant, character study, introspection, p.orn with plot, pwp, vignette, re-establishing relationship, blood drinking, m.issionary position, tav is gender neutral archiveofourown . ⊱ here .

taglist . ⊱ @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene, @lavenderslemonade, @candyladycry, @chonkercatto, @foxxyhun, @nyxmainex, @angelmawss2, @godoffuckedupcats, @raviolixxx be added . ⊱ here .

summary . ⊱ You have learned to be good. It's time Astarion learns to be forgiven.

During the heart of spring, Astarion spends more time trying to avoid you than he does trying to catch up with you. You’re not even sure why he agreed to travel alongside you — but you do not ask. You press your lips together and push on anyway.

His eyes are cold, and red.

The first night when you set up camp in an abandoned temple, Astarion moves his tent to the other side of the sanctuary as if he cannot bear to be around you. Like you smell. You’ve never cared much for the thoughts or opinions of others, but an inkling of self-doubt creeps back into the depths of your mind. What is the cost of being good if no one treats you kindly?

Every interaction you have with him is like pulling teeth. You want to fight for the tieflings, and Astarion wants to leave them behind. You want to help Wyll find his father, and Astarion snorts. Any good deed you suggest, he finds the need to punish.

When the cambion Raphael reaches and touches your cheek with a promise of opulence and salubrity, you're reminded of a night two hundred years ago. You stumble out of the House of Hope as fast as you can.

You don’t stop walking until daybreak. One night, you explode on Astarion. Your feelings bubble up like bile in your throat.

‘I tried to look for you!’ you snap at him. ‘You can sit here, and you can be bitter, but if I had known, I would have looked for you! But I didn’t know — I didn’t know and it isn’t a crime!’

Astarion’s look of surprise is one thing. He furrows his eyebrows as if properly scandalized, and his frustrated scowl turns to ash when you throw his old cravat at him. You had kept it tied around your neck for two hundred years. You wouldn’t keep it a day longer.

It’s a horrifying mistake to go wandering off in the Underdark by yourself with nothing but a hunting knife at your side, but you never really gave much thought to how you would cope with the gravity of the situation. The fact that you knew Cazador only made matters worse. You stumble past the ruins of the Selûnite Outpost in hopes of running away from your past.

You don’t run into your past in the dark, but you do run into a Spectator.

You’re immediately thrown into darkness and narrowly avoid being petrified, but you have no idea what you’re going to do about this situation besides hide beyond some poor stoned soul. You might should have considered thinking it through. You might should have thought anything through but you didn’t, and that’s the only crime you’ve committed in quite some time. It isn’t a crime is something you’ve begun to repeat to yourself often.

You manage to defend yourself for quite a while in the darkness, but by the end, you’re nursing a nasty wound and bite from the Spectator that will take some time to heal. You’re tucked under some petrified Drow bastard when you hear Karlac’s battle cry and see Gale’s ice spell come from the cliffs. The one that catches you off-guard, the one that will always catch you off-guard, is Astarion flipping through the air with nothing but an elven bow like a prince from your dreams.

Defeating the Spectator is easier with allies, and even the Drow protecting it goes down without much of a fight. You nurse your wounds as best you can, sitting against the cliffs with a bleeding thigh, and try not to frown when Astarion approaches.

‘Give me that,’ he says quietly, snatching one of Halsin’s potions from your fingers. ‘Even after all these years, it seems like you still need protecting.’

You frown and pick at your torn breeches. ‘I know how much you hate that, your honor.’

Astarion looks at you for the first time in several tendays, eyes rimmed with red. ‘I never hated it,’ he says. He dresses your wound like it pains him to see it. ‘I don’t hate it even now.’ Astarion crashes into you full force the night you arrive at the Last Light Inn after you’ve talked to Jaheira but before you’ve talked to anyone else. You’re in your room, and the next thing you know, you’re not alone.

Two hundred years of loneliness are erased at that moment.

His teeth clack painfully against yours as he shoves you into the wall, too uncaring or too pent up to care about the force. He cradles the back of your head to keep you from cracking it on the wall, but other than that, Astarion doesn’t care about hiding the full force of his strength. He kisses you until your mouth is swollen and then he’s tearing your night shirt open with both hands like he can’t get enough.

‘Astarion — ’ you try to say, startled.

But you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him too. You let Astarion push you around, until you’re both stripped of your clothes and he’s lying flat on his back on the hard wooden floor with you pulled into his lap, his cock pushed deep inside you, and his hands unable to stop wandering the planes of your body. Astarion all but sobs into your mouth as he fucks you. He holds your cheeks in his hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

When you’re both finished, no one moves from the wood floor despite there being a bed. You lie on your side next to him, memorizing the slope of his nose while you still shiver with little twinges of pleasure still racing up your spine and between your legs. Astarion’s eyes are closed. He’s pretending to sleep, or pretending to be dead so you don’t have to talk about what’s happened, but you’re curious anyway.

You reach across the distance and touch his chest. You know there’s no heartbeat beneath his ribs, but you like to pretend. You close your eyes and dream it has been nothing but two hundred years of happiness and bliss in Astarion’s home.

‘When I first saw you,’ you say quietly, ‘I thought you were a ghost come back to haunt me.’

‘Are you often haunted by ghosts?’ Astarion asks. He still doesn’t look.

‘I’ve been properly reformed while you were away,’ you tell him. You stare at his neck. ‘There was only one ghost I was running from.’

He smiles. ‘And now you’ve found him. What do you think about this haunting?’

‘I am happily haunted,’ you say honestly. He opens his eyes then and turns toward you, lips pressed into a firm line. ‘But you are not happily haunting.’

Astarion sits up then and you follow him, legs sticky and wet. You reach for his hands and pull them into your lap. You watch as he struggles to accept a kind touch. In a way, you understand that. You remember how kindly he treated you when you didn’t deserve it. You hold his hands even when he tries to run away.

‘I was ashamed for you to see me like this,’ Astarion explains. He looks away, hesitant. ‘My condition isn’t one that I’m proud of. It isn’t fair to say I was tricked, but — ’

‘Wanting to live doesn’t make you a bad person,’ you say.

‘Perhaps not,’ he says. ‘But I became what I often chastised you for. I am greedy. I am prone to lying and bouts of theatrics. I’ve killed. It was embarrassing to fall so low.’

‘And now you rescue orphans,’ you say, shrugging. ‘You helped the gnomes. You helped the tieflings. You’re going to help the gnomes and tieflings again. There’s still good in you, your honor, beneath all that vampiric avarice you despair over.’

Astarion laughs and turns away from you. He’s looking for his clothes, and your heart squeezes so tightly in your chest that you move before you can stop yourself. You drape yourself over Astarion’s back and pull his arms away from his smallclothes. You can tell by the musculature of his arms that you only succeed because he lets you.

‘Please don’t leave me alone again,’ you whisper against his shoulder. Your wet eyelashes tickle the nape of his neck. ‘I waited for you that night and… I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Astarion stays that night.

He stays every night after that too. For what it’s worth, your third visit to Baldur’s Gate is hardly better than the first two.

Between fighting cultists, saving children, and trying to convince most of your party that they’re not going to become mindflayers, you’re beginning to run a little thin. You feel like you’re going to shrivel up and die. You feel like the world is spinning and falling apart. You’ve killed Gortash and you’ve killed Orin and you killed Ketheric ages ago, but now you’re trying to keep the Emperor from betraying you and sacrificing Orpheus, and Cazador’s invitation is sitting pretty in your hands, and —

Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Cazador’s invitation is in your hands, and you don’t have the heart to show Astarion. You’re afraid of showing Astarion. You know that as soon as you show him the invitation, he’ll lose his mind. You’ve only just recovered him and you’re already worried about losing him again.

You bury the invitation in the garden behind the inn like you’re a dog with a bone. You shovel the dirt with your hands until they’re cracked and raw and bleeding and the invitation is buried six feet in the ground. It should scare you that Cazador knows who you are, but it doesn’t. You aren’t stupid enough to run headfirst into his trap. And Astarion isn’t stupid either, but he’s scared, and being scared makes you do stupid things. Astarion almost does a very stupid thing like you predicted he would.

The Rite of Ascension was right there in his hands, and he had almost consumed it. You aren’t sure what changed his mind at the last minute but you’re thankful. Astarion crawls into your arms that night and sobs for hours. ‘What are we going to do about tomorrow?’ Astarion asks you softly.

He’s been tracing patterns into your spine all evening. If he moves his hands now, you’d still feel his fingertips against your skin. You’re hiding your face in your arms so you don’t have to think about it. You can’t stop thinking about it.

‘We’re going to fight the Absolute,’ you say.

‘Like it’s that simple?’

‘I am going to look another god in the face,’ you say, ‘and I am going to tell it to fuck off back to Avernus.’

‘Do Netherbrains come from Avernus?’

You don’t know. You’re too worried to think too hard about the simplest details. So far, you’re every plan has been to go in, stab whoever is the loudest, and then leave before things get worse. It’s hard to keep your head above the waves as they keep crashing down on you.

You don’t want to talk about tomorrow. If things don’t go well, you’re all going to die anyway and all that planning will have been for nothing. You turn on your side and appraise Astarion’s expression. He’s looking at you with muted disbelief. You choose to ignore it.

‘What are we going to do after tomorrow?’ you ask.

Astarion opens his mouth to chastise you for changing the subject, but he closes it almost immediately. He doesn’t want to talk about it either. It’s a scary thing to walk into the end of the world with a sword and a dagger. At least Dame Aylin will be there. You hope she can just stomp the Netherbrain to death and then it’ll all be over.

‘I could always go back to being a magistrate,’ Astarion says conversationally.

He picks at a thread coming loose on his blanket.

‘If you go back to that, I’ll go back to being a criminal,’ you muse. ‘We can have nasty sex on your desk again. You always did look damn good in a cassock.’

Astarion laughs. He laughs like the sunlight that peeks through the window on a sunny morning. He laughs like the moonlight that splays on the cobblestone of Baldur’s Gate long after everyone else has already gone to bed. It’s hideous — it’s melodic and intoxicating, and you reach across the distance and touch his cheek without thinking.

You slide your finger across to his nose. You press your finger against the wrinkle between his brow, and Astarion starts laughing again so you do too. You kiss him while he laughs, and then he holds you and you both laugh together. He will never be a judge again. Your connections with the Zhentarim will die out.

Astarion brushes his fingers against your hip bone. He rolls out of bed like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do, and you miss him. Already without him, the bed is much colder. You dramatically crawl across to his side and press your nose into his pillowcase to smell the faint traces of whiskey that are left.

When he returns, he presents you with his old cravat which has been neatly restored almost to perfection. He had sewn it back together himself. You had worn it for two hundred years as a good luck charm against evil, and the wear and tear had nearly torn it to shreds. You’d never had the heart to try to tailor it yourself. Sewing wasn’t your strong suit, and you had never cried over Astarion’s death until the day you thought you had lost it.

Astarion neatly ties the cravat around your wrist like a promise. He kisses your skin and inhales as though in a dream, nose brushing against the fabric, like the touch of a ghost against your veins. Your throat tightens.

‘Wherever this takes us,’ Astarion says, eyes burning. ‘I want to be there with you in the end.’

You tuck inside your bed with Astarion that night and watch the moon disappear through the window. It’s barely daylight when you’re finally too exhausted to stay awake, and Astarion almost lets you both miss the final showdown. Lae’zel, however, doesn’t. ‘I don’t mind what we do,’ Astarion is saying, ‘once we get to the — ’

You watch with muted horror as Astarion’s skin begins to glimmer in the sunlight. The fire begins cracking under his skin, brimming against his cheekbones and nose and throat and hair much like Karlach when she overheats. You watch as the tips of his ears ignite, and then he’s searching for you frantically between all of your friends.

‘I have to go,’ he chokes out. ‘I have to — ’

There is a world where you let Astarion run alone, where you both get separated on the docks and never find one another again. He runs from the sun as he bursts with radiant energy and as stars pour from his skin, you forget what Wyll is saying, and you run after him.

Astarion finds sanctuary in melting shade beneath a set of boxes. He’s curled up into himself when you arrive, and you drop next to him, pulling your cloak over your heads. He looks up at you, bewildered.

But you have lived through losing Astarion once, and it has haunted you for two hundred years. You had known loneliness and fear and anger, and the thought of surviving it for even a day more makes your stomach roll. You press your forehead to Astarion’s and stand as tall as you can so the sun can’t touch him ever again.

‘Won’t your arms get tired?’ Astarion asks you faintly.

He watches you with a sense of wonder. His skin slowly returns to normal, no more flickering stardust and ash, and you grin. He slowly smiles too, nervous but you shake your head and keep your cloaked raised.

‘Never,’ you say. ‘Not when it’s you.’

‘My reform worked, then?’ he says.

‘I’ve learned about your stuck-up decorum,’ you say. ‘It’s true. I can confirm.’

‘A sense of propriety?’ Astarion asks, and if his voice goes any softer, you’ll melt too.

‘Let me carry the weight of your sins,’ you tell him sincerely, laughing a little. ‘And if we need to find another desk then we will. But I’ll be your knight in shining armor, your honor, and carry a parasol above your head as a proper chamberlain would.’

Astarion snorts. ‘That isn’t quite the job of a chamberlain.’

You hold the cloak up for two hours at least while Astarion recovers from the damage. You can’t help but notice that he looks happy and content even in the shadows. It must be because you’re there, although you’re hesitant to take credit for all his happiness. When you let down the cloak, the sun has set. When Astarion rises, he kisses your cheek sweetly. ‘The silence stretches on — I’m all alone,’ you muse, ‘Please, can I hold your hands, just for a while?’

Bernard’s arms wrap around you gently, and you wrap your arms around his steel ribs. You’ve taken up residence in the old Arcane Tower in the Underdark. You appreciate the permanent nighttime, and if you admitted you only did it because Astarion wanted to be close to his family, it wouldn’t be entirely true. With a bit of help from Gale, you’ve managed to turn the tower into a comfortable fortress. Sometimes Omeluum comes to visit you. Occasionally, there’s word from Shadowheart from the Selûnite Outpost. She’s hoping to restore it. She wants you to come visit.

‘Are you still playing with that dusty old thing, my love?’ Astarion hums from the doorway.

‘You be kind to Bernard,’ you warn him. ‘He’s my friend.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Astarion says, holding his hands up. ‘I’ll be kind to the scrap metal.’

You roll your eyes and step away, touching Bernard’s chest briefly. Astarion has just arrived back from a trip. There are spawn all over the Underdark now, and they treat Astarion as though he’s some sort of prince. They heed your word too, but none so much as his. Their eldest brother, their favorite. They tolerate you if it means getting to see Astarion.

You’re a jack-of-all-trades and master-of-none now. You leave your handiwork for the day or night or whatever it is to go down to your bedroom and recline in bed. Astarion lights each candle one by one until the room is illuminated. You smile and watch as he works.

‘Having responsibility suits you well,’ you say, resting your cheek on your palm. ‘Although it’s funny how our positions have changed somewhat.’

‘I’m the contracted killer,’ Astarion says with a laugh. ‘Are you a magistrate now?’

‘I have at least four hundred years of life left,’ you snort. ‘I, Magistrate Judge Stick-Up-My-Ass, sentence thee to fifty years of community service!’

Astarion rolls his eyes at you dramatically and throws himself into bed, kicking off his boots as he does so. He smells of fresh oils and mist. You bury your nose in his hair. You practically burrow yourself into him, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a mindflayer. You squeeze him tightly in your arms.

‘We have a sprawling manse and all you can think of to do all day is mock me for a position I have not occupied in two hundred years?’ Astarion pouts.

You kiss his hair. ‘What else should I do?’

‘Well,’ Astarion says, tone turning conspiratorial. ‘There are a certain amount of fuckable places here. Several desks, I’ve counted them all, and couches.’

You contemplate it, but after several tendays on the road and a wiggling visitor in your head, you think the bed is the best place. You pull Astarion up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck so he can’t leave you. You never want him to go again. You bump your nose against his and hide a smile in his coiffed hair when he melts against your chest.

You sigh prettily when Astarion takes you in your velvet sheets that you float as though in a dream. Your troubles are long over, and that person you thought you lost — your immortal soul — has returned to you as beautiful as the day you lost him. When you shudder, Astarion brushes hair out of your eyes adoringly and tastes your pulse at your jaw. You dig your fingers into the small of his back.

It’s like you’ve found a family. A very bitey, very competitive family. Still, you wouldn’t change any of it for the world. You hold Astarion’s face in your hands and see the man you knew and the man he’s become. Slowly, you pull his mouth towards your neck and feel your heartbeat jump in your chest.

He bites you for the first time that night.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #YOU GUYS CAN STOP MANIFESTING SNAKES IN MY HOUSE NOW #I LAID DOWN TO SLEEP & ALL I COULD DREAM ABOUT WAS CRAVATS #honestly patch 5 inspired a lot too #learning about astarion becoming A Dad to a bunch of vampire spawn really like........................... fired up the brain

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crepesuzette2023 · 5 months

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Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

#fic rec #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #asks #fic recs #overall favorites fic recs

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weirdworldofwinnie · 8 months

Text

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Three: Bad Timing

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's that time of the month and some new innocent boisterous visitors to the house don't make it any easier, in addition to you still being muddled over Robert's behavior.

Word Count: ~5,128

Warnings: Descriptions of menstruation, period stereotypical gender roles, some angst, nightmares, infidelity hints, age gap, slight daddy kink (sorry not sorry)

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy (especially this chapter as the children and their mother are my made-up characters), and this is essentially AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One

Part Two

Tag list: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman @uniquetacofun

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know.

It happened midmorning, the familiar feeling of a bloom of crimson staining your panties as you were in the process of pouring out a full bottle of wine in the sink since you decided to purge all bottles of it from the house. Robert wouldn't be that upset; he was not extremely fond of wine and you couldn't trust it to make you feel happily drunk, for it seemed to have the opposite affect and you refused to succumb to the negativity, plus being compared to Katherine didn't help matters.

You left the bottle in the sink for the time being and hurried off to the bathroom, uncomfortably aware of the leaking blood and you pulled down your skirt and panties, frantically searching for the box of sanitary napkins tucked under the sink and once you retrieved a fresh pair of underwear from the closet, you affixed one in and groaned at the incoming cramping beginning to pulsate through your lower abdomen. You were glad Robert was not around to witness, although he had always been supportive and understanding, men in general tended to be peculiar about menstruation and sometimes you couldn't blame them; it was an intimately awkward pain in the ass.

You popped in a painkiller pill from the medicine cabinet and went back to the kitchen sink, staring down at the vibrant red splash of wine; a parallel to what just began for you. So maybe last night had not been just you overreacting from alcohol after all... As you uncorked the second bottle, it then occurred to you that this was an awful waste and you stopped, setting the wine on the counter and sighing. Maybe keeping a few around wouldn't hurt, especially when company came over... You'd just have to practice self control, that's all.

Around midday (lunchtime for most people), Robert dropped by, but he certainly wasn't interested in eating and only came to retrieve his hat and a briefcase, casting a quick cautious smile your way as you were sitting at the kitchen table, intent with studying for your nursing degree. At least that took your mind off your bleeding and the cramps had numbed from the painkiller, making the day bearable.

But around two o'clock, you heard a loud unexpected knock at the front door and startled, pushing aside papers and an anatomy book to go greet whomever it could be.

The mother, Mrs. Thompson, whom you'd discussed babysitting her two young boys on the first day here was there with them standing on the front step. Her children Duncan and Douglas were close in age, around three and four respectively and nearly twins; strikingly similar in appearance with their matching towheaded short hair and big brown eyes set in cherub faces.

You hadn't expected them so soon and it must have shown on your face because she was instantly apologetic, speaking hurriedly.

"I'm sorry if this is an inconvenient time, but I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to watch my little boys for a few hours as we talked about?"

"Oh, sure, I did promise to after all," you replied courteously.

"I'd be appreciative. It's my tentative first half day on the job and they don't have the daycare in operation yet, so it's been rather hectic and of course my husband works at the lab, so he can't babysit."

"Of course. Now what time do you think you'll be able to come pick them up?"

"Six o'clock, but we usually eat at five for supper and they tend to get so cranky and peckish, so-"

"I'll feed them, don't worry," you offered and her eyebrows shot up.

"Are you sure? I'd be so grateful if you could. Oh, and if you tend to have trouble telling them apart, just remember this: Douglas is the older one with more vocabulary and about two inches taller."

She touched the tops of their heads and bent to peck each one's cheek quickly before straightening up, giving them directives.

"Boys, please behave for Mrs. Oppenheimer and Dougie, look after your brother. Mommy will come back soon, okay?"

They nodded distractedly and then bolted off into the house curiously, already taking in this new environment and starting to chase each other around the living room. Mrs. Thompson shrugged with an exhausted laugh.

"Well, as you can see they are the opposite of timid. They can entertain themselves for hours, but that's just the problem; they just give each other endless energy!"

"I'll do my best to keep them in line and safe," you told her assuredly before bidding goodbye and closing the door, taking a deep breath and moving to sit down on a chair in the lounge, where the boys had stopped racing and were quietly exploring the space, peeking on tiptoes at the bookshelves and out the windows. You watched them bemusedly, not accustomed to children very much and they almost reminded you humorously of puppies as they wandered about and began to chase each other, a game of tag it looked to be with Douglas tapping his little brother on the back and then racing off to the other side of the room with a laugh.

"Be careful," you called out as Duncan bolted after him, bumping into the furniture along the way. It took a few minutes for you to relax and adjust to their energy, and while they were busy tagging each other back and forth, you went to retrieve the papers and books from the kitchen to continue studying, but unfortunately your headache was coming back stronger with fatigue and you really had to use the bathroom, but worried if you left them unsupervised, would they get into mischief or accidentally ruin anything? Your head kept throbbing and so you leaned back to rest your eyes just for a moment... Until a shattering crush made you gasp and you saw a guilty faced Duncan standing at the foot of a smashed vase on the floor. His older brother quickly apologized and sat down to pick at the pieces, but you rushed to take over so he wouldn't hurt his hands on the sharp shards of pottery, telling both of them to go sit down now. They obeyed, clamoring up onto a chair and swinging their legs, pouting.

"Alright you two, this is your first warning. If you break something else, I'll have to tell your mother about it," you warned, but they only gave you doe eyed innocence that made you feel a little better. You plowed through for a couple hours, taking one bathroom break and then helping Duncan with his own potty break before there was a noise at the front door at four-thirty. The boys perked up and ran to it, presumably thinking it to be their mother even though she wasn't supposed to be back until six. You heard Robert's surprised voice and entered the hall just in time to see little Duncan run straight into his legs, bouncing off and appearing confused as he staggered backwards.

"Daddy?" he asked, craning his neck upward and face falling when he saw a different man.

"Oh dear, I certainly hope not," Robert chuckled with wide eyes as he gently maneuvered around the little boy and you walked to meet him with a smirk.

"Daddy, hmm?"

He nearly flushed and glanced away as you looked down, allowing Duncan and Douglas to go play outside in the yard for awhile.

"Just stay on the grass and by the window where I can see you both," you instructed firmly and Douglas nodded, taking Duncan's hand and dashing out the open door as you looked back to Robert, still smiling.

"I kind of like the sound of 'Daddy' for you."

His eyebrows twitched in perplexion and he held up a finger, speaking with uncertainty.

"I thought we agreed to hold off on raising any children - of our own that is - until later? Or have you changed tunes already?"

You reached for his tie, giving it a teasing tug and cocking your head, playing up to his confusion.

"That's not what I meant, darling. I think you do something to me when referred to as that... Don't you think daddy has a nice ring to it when spoken in my voice, though?"

He gave you a strange look, but smiled amicably.

"I, well, I suppose it's... interesting. You continue to surprise me and nourish my expanding knowledge of various feminine desires, so I thank you for that, my love." He walked away towards the living room and you trailed behind, unsure of quite what to think of that response.

"How long have they been here, the children?" Robert asked while setting his briefcase down to the floor and you causally glanced at your wristwatch.

"About a couple hours, Mrs. Thompson dropped them off at after two o'clock."

"Well, you must have your hands full," he remarked.

"It's been easy," you half lied, knowing that broken vase was very minor loss but you weren't completely sure of what you were doing, not being an expert babysitter, and you still had to make a somewhat kid friendly dinner.

He just nodded, walking over to the large window panes and staring out at the yard, where the boys were chasing each other around a pine tree and then Douglas crouched down, pretending to shoot at his brother with a little finger gun and Duncan copied him, dodging invisible bullets. You joined Robert's side and observed unsmiling as you considered how males have such an inherent tendency towards violence, even during mock play. It spoke volumes about the tragic times you were living in and how it all was filtered down to children.

"I'm sick of all the fighting, Robert," you commented sadly and he made no expression.

"We live in a volatile planet," he replied flatly and you pursed your lips, turning away.

"That doesn't mean I have to embrace it."

"You don't; it just takes you instead, a pacifist as prisoner."

"I'm about to start dinner, would you like to help for once?" you changed the subject with a snap and he clenched his jaw, following you to the kitchen where you fumbled with pots and pans, gathering ingredients for a simple chicken with mashed potatoes and side vegetables dinner. Robert pulled out the cans of peas and carrots from the cupboard and took his time with the can opener, muttering under his breath about explosive versus implosive and you side eyed him, asking him if everything was alright.

"Yes, fine. Only conversing with myself," he answered with a thin grin and you shrugged, beginning to cook and deciding to leave out ample amounts of spices on the chicken because of the children's likely tender taste buds.

The boys came in a few minutes later and you noticed dirt and dust all over Duncan's front and Douglas had filthy hands as well.

"How did you two get so dirty? I told you to stay on the grass," you exclaimed exasperatedly and they ignored this, distracted by the dinner preparation and you had to shoo them away from the stove.

"Can we have porridge?" Douglas asked hopefully and you stared, amazed at how children's thought processes work.

"No, that's for breakfast only. It's dinnertime."

"Cereal?" Duncan added hopefully, licking his upper lip and you shook your head, looking to Robert who wasn't paying much attention and fixated on spooning out the canned vegetables into a saucepan.

"Mac 'n cheese!" Duncan suddenly shouted, beginning to hop up and down while his brother added to this impromptu guessing game.

"Hotdogs? Momma makes us hotdogs, they're my favorite!" he exclaimed as you walked over and took their small arms, marching them out to the bathroom to clean up. You can't do much about Duncan's soiled shirt other than a wipe down, for there were no clothes in the house that would remotely fit him and you hoped his mother won't be upset.

When you came back to check on the cooking and having sent the boys back to the living room with a stack of blank papers to draw on with pens from Robert's study, you smell smoke - and not the usual odor from cigarettes. The pan of chicken is burning and Robert is nowhere in sight.

"Dammit!" you cried, furious at him for carelessly and bizarrely abandoning the hot stove, and you rushed to pour a cup of water on the pan, creating a loud hiss and puff of smoke and vapor. The chicken was too blackened for consumption, so you tossed it out bitterly before going to mash up the potatoes. You felt a tug on your skirt and you glanced down, seeing Douglas looking up at you, his tiny chubby hand clutching the hem of your skirt.

"I need to go potty," he declared, hopping from foot to foot and you sighed in frustration, taking his hand and leading him down the hall once again to the bathroom and making sure he could go by himself before returning back to the kitchen, where now the vegetables were becoming overcooked mush.

"Fuck," you muttered, hurriedly removing them and dumping forkfuls onto plates. You jumped at the sound of Robert behind you and you glared at him as he looked visibly distracted.

"Thanks for nothing! We almost had a kitchen fire because you went off to who-knows-where while I was cleaning the boys up in the bathroom," you chastised and he closed his eyes briefly, stressed and guilty.

"I'm sorry, I had to run through a calculation and I thought it would be fine to leave it for a minute as long as you were coming back," he explained and you scoffed, thinking that as no excuse.

"You should know better than to leave a stove unattended, even for a few moments. And you know, this is absurd. When are they coming to finish the kitchen? If we're going to host, we'll need a bigger space."

"Don't worry, they'll be working on it and I'll fix this." He moved to take the saucepan from you and ladle out the rest of the soggy veggies. You took a seat at the table, plunging your sore head into your palms just as Douglas came wandering back in, whining.

"I'm hunnngry, Mrs. Oppen-hemmer..."

"Oppen-heimer," Robert corrected over his shoulder with a smile and you rubbed your face, standing up.

"It'll be just a minute, how about you please have a seat to wait, alright? And where is your brother at?"

"Potty," Douglas replied and you gave Robert a glance.

"Can you go fetch him and leave the food to me?"

He gave a curt nod and left the room while you took the last chicken breast left and placed it in the pan to sizzle. Thankfully it didn't take too long and you were grateful your husband was dealing with one child while the other waited, watching you curiously and kept asking if he could have ketchup, presumably for the chicken.

"Just about ready?" Robert's voice made you turn to see him with Duncan toddling in, hanging onto the cuff of Robert's sleeve.

"Did he wash his hands?" you asked and Robert nodded again in affirmative, helping the kid onto a chair. You set out their plates and once everyone was seated, the boys dug in clumsily (Duncan was definitely the messier one and you tried to help him with cutting up the chicken), but in all considered, they were fairly civilized; their mother taught them well for their age.

Robert meanwhile was quiet, neglecting a smoke as he actually ate most of the food on his plate instead and you wondered if you should have young guests over more often if they influenced him to make a better impression of an appetite.

"So how do you all like it? Good?" you asked them towards the end of the meal.

"Yummy," Duncan said while Douglas vigorously nodded with a closed stuffed mouthful and Robert smirked, gently nudging your ankle under the table with his foot.

"It's delicious as is anything you put your culinary talents to is."

"Even though it burned initially and these vegetables are a tad overdone?"

"Perhaps we should try barbeques then," he suggested, the tip of his shoe suggestively tickling your stockings and you twitched in your chair, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"I'm glad you all are satisfied."

When the boys finished, you took their plates to wash out at the sink and Robert told them to go to the living room to play. He came close, grazing your shoulder and feeling around your skirt, but you flinched away from his touch and he frowned, taken aback.

"Not now," you murmured and he backed away, retreating from the kitchen as you finished the dishes, joining the others in the main room a while later, and immediately noticing Duncan posing in front of the fireplace with Robert's tobacco pipe sticking out from his mouth. You quickly swiped it out from him while your husband only laughed as he was seated on a chair in front of the boy, clearly entertained.

"That's for grown-ups only, young man," you chided seriously (with a scoff at Robert for encouraging this) and he giggled sheepishly before getting distracted by his older brother tackling him from behind. They wrestled on the rug before getting up and Duncan attempted a handstand which ended with him falling back down with a flump to his bottom. Douglas giggled and you could only shake your head in amusement as you sat down on the sofa, Robert abandoning his chair to join you with a sigh, tucking an arm around your body as he watched the boys, displaying a pondering expression.

"I don't recall Frank and I ever being that rambunctiously cheerful at their size," he remarked softly.

"Well, from what I've heard, you were a rather unique child."

"I was sickly often; these boys are as healthy as horses."

"Well, besides that. I doubt those two will be giving a formal presentation to the New York Mineralogical Club on geology at age twelve, although you never know."

"True, but look at them; they have such modes of sensory perception and imaginations that are lost on us adults. What if they could solve the most complex problems with simplicity?"

You leaned your head tiredly onto his shoulder as he rubbed your forearm, the cramps returning and you had the thought that you wouldn't entirely mind skipping periods for pregnancy... but child rearing full time was daunting and you weren't ready for it even though the mere thought of such breeding such domesticity with Robert made you a bit weepy... or maybe it was just the period swinging your hormonal emotions about. But there is still a bright flash of reality; wasn't this how modern life, the human experience, was meant to be and what awaited you in the future if you had Robert's children?

You glanced at him, trying to read his contemplative expression. Was he thinking similar family thoughts and reflective of his own childhood, or was he only pondering his work, scientific equations, the war, or even... Jean Tatlock? You hoped not on the latter. He could be difficult to read most times, on a different wavelength from the rest of humanity and you considered yourself one of the few people in his life that felt only a minor alienation from his brilliance and knew to leave him there in his mind, for it was his true home until he orbited back to the present with everyone else.

Duncan climbed up onto the sofa, yawning widely and his brother joined a second later, scooting to your side and his chestnut orbs looked up at you with a hint of longing.

"I miss Momma," he whispered and you glanced at the clock on the wall that showed a quarter to six.

"She'll be here soon," you told him comfortingly and sure enough, not five minutes past six o'clock, there was a rap at the door. Robert stood up as you urged Douglas off the sofa and went to awkwardly scoop up his sleepy tuckered out little brother in your arms, carrying him to the door. Mrs. Thompson was relieved and so were you as you handed her youngest son off into her arms (he was heavier than he looked!) and Douglas hugged her legs happily. She thankfully didn't seem to notice or care that they weren't spotlessly clean.

"You two are so gracious, I can't thank you enough."

"No need to, we are glad to be of assistance," Robert told her sincerely and as he invited her and husband for the soonest party, you were reminded of something.

"Hold on, I have something for you before you go," you announced to her and dashed off to the kitchen to snatch up the neck of a wine bottle off the counter from your earlier attempts of purging. You presented it to her as a gift, causing her to light up in surprised elation.

"Oh, this is a delight!"

"Take it as a token of friendship," you told her as Douglas pulled impatiently at her pant leg.

"Wanna go home," he moaned and she thanked you and Robert again before slinging Duncan over her shoulder and clutching the wine in her free hand.

"Goodnight," you and Robert both called out, and you gave Douglas a little wave as they walked down the pathway and to the road. You slowly closed the door and Robert turned to you, brushing a strand of hair back towards your ear and you almost thought he might lean in for a kiss, but then he moved away, occupying himself with lighting a cigarette instead.

Later that night when you both are laying awake in bed, he seemed to sense something was up as you were curled with your back to him, riding the waves of aching pain shooting through your lower abdomen and back, waiting for the second painkiller pill to kick in while feeling mildly depressed. His hand warily made contact with your shoulder and you stirred, rolling over to face his concern.

"What is so wrong? Is it because of those boys? It was very considerate of you, but we don't have to have them over again for awhile."

"No, not at all, it's not their fault. I've been dealing with my cycle that began this morning and it's been rather... difficult on top of whatever is happening with our relationship."

Realization dawned on him and he adjusted the sheets, cocooning you and him closer together.

"I suppose tonight isn't an appropriate night for any activity then?" he asked knowingly and you shook your head, but moved into his body, fingers needlingly grasping his night shirt and he put a hand to your hip, stroking your butt and crotch soothingly.

"Cramps?" he asked in a hushed voice and you only nodded, closing your eyes.

"Let me help," he offered and you shifted to allow his hands to massage into your lower stomach and thighs, making you squirm at the kneading pressure.

"Just let Daddy take care of you, alright?" he whispered huskily into your hair and the blush inflamed your cheeks, making you twist your neck to meet his seductive eyes.

"You understand it?"

He only shrugged, nonchalant.

"It's unusual and I feel a bit perverted for using such a term for romantic purposes, but I suppose there is psychology behind it."

You stayed quiet, letting him do rhythmic circles into your skin and if you didn't feel so raw and achy, you'd be wholly aroused to high heaven.

"Were there any calls today?" you asked curiously in a casual tone, testing if he'd tense, but his fingers remained steady and relaxed as they gently rubbed into the folds of your skin.

"There won't be any for a while," he answered and now you were the one ending up tense.

"A while? What does that mean?"

Robert exhaled heavily, blowing his warm smoky breath to your forehead.

"I can't guarantee there will never be further word during the duration of our stay here. Two, three years can feel like eternity and she may still love me."

"Then she'll just have to move on. You need to get your head straight and devote your energies here to work, to life with me, not back in Berkeley."

"I intend to and I will, but Jean knew me like no other and she sees me as an incomparable love. She hasn't seen any other man since me."

"That's not what you should ever tell your wife," you muttered bitterly, hating that he was making this sound as if this was all her fault.

"Every affection I have for various women is different. You happen to be my life partner, an equal for the long journey, and I would never replace that. But Jean doesn't have what I do and one never forgets their first brightest flame."

"Must be nice to have a list of lovers to pull from. I don't care what she thinks, I care about what you feel. What is Jean to you alone?"

He didn't answer for a long while and finally you tilted your head to gaze at him with a frown.

"Answer me, Robert."

He licked his lips and spoke very softly, fondly.

"She was a possibility and then I found you and my world was altered. I knew I had to marry you instead and I did, didn't I?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No, never. There is only one Aphrodite in my universe and that is you, my love. No one else compares."

You bit your lip, refusing to tell him about the information you were given from his own secretary yesterday. Besides, you had no solid proof of that note anymore, just hearsay that he could deny, and as much as it pained you to shove this issue under the rug, you had to in order to protect your husband.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"For...?"

"All the bad timing and for being a mess through it, I suppose."

"You can't control it."

"I know, but..."

"But what?" he asked pressingly.

"What's happening to us? It's this place, I think there is just something about living here, it feels..." you trailed off, unable to dress up your emotions with words that would be tailored enough to fit the frustrated mood.

"Los álamos, the poplars," he stated abruptly and you blinked.

"Okay, what of that?"

"On the banks of the Acheron river of the Underworld, they were resurrected pillars of death-"

"You're citing Greek mythology again, aren't you?" you interrupted and he suppressed a chuckle.

"Yes, I am. Do you suppose we are living in our own version of the underworld here at Los Alamos? We have departed from the living in some fraction, rowing down such a proverbial river to Hades, outcast by the great Zeus..." he trailed off, sounding nearly emotional at his own metaphors.

"I'm not sure about that, but I do know only you could take such natural beauty and see it doomed."

Robert was silent for a while and then he sat up, tossing the sheets off and swinging his legs out of bed and you raised eyebrows, watching as he walked out of the room to return a moment later with a journal in his hands and climb back into bed. You scooted down to rest your head in between his legs, letting him place the journal in his lap as he flipped it open, ruffling pages and you had a feeling of what he was perusing.

"I've never heard your poems read aloud before," you murmured with your eyes half shut and he shifted self consciously, hesitant.

"I'm an inferior poet, it really isn't meant or fit for oratory sharing..." he protested.

"If it's legible, read it," you ordered and he sighed, beginning to read quietly and slowly, savoring every word.

"It... It was evening when we came to the river with a low moon over the desert that we had lost in the mountains, forgotten, what with the cold and the sweating and the ranges barring the sky..."

His voice gradually lulled you to a sleepy state and as he read the last line - "We didn't look back at the mountains" - you dozed off to muddle through dreams that were of strange visions of white pine trees extending into skeletal fingers scratching at the cobalt sky, shadows dancing down darkened corners in hallways as you ran, running towards the haunting sounds of children crying, but you never could get there to comfort them... and then you wondered if you were not aching to get to them, but far away. Glancing down, you saw a pair of shoes but no feet filling them, and you realized were as empty as a ghost; no body propelling anything forward as though there was no sense in motion at all. You opened your mouth to scream, but of course there was no existing voice in your throat...

You abruptly woke up with a jolt sometime in the witching hour of the early morning tinged in a sticky sweat and saw that Robert was out cold on his back, his journal having slipped from his clutch to lay facedown on his stomach and you very carefully picked it up to place it on the bedside table before exiting to the bathroom to change out your pad and fill a hot water bottle, and then you grabbed a thin blanket and sat down in a chair, straddling the warm rubber in between your thighs and wrapping the blanket around your chilled frame, watching the moonlight track ever so slowly across the wood floor as a hour gradually ticked by. You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, ruminating on Robert's poem (which now you barely remembered from the lack of consciousness) but that one last line lingered on your tongue.

"We didn't look back at the mountains."

It seemed symbolic to how you felt about the past with his ex-lovers and wishing he would learn to face forward in the saddle with you and focus on the horizon instead of taking trips back into old forays. Or maybe you had to be the one to move on from all the doubts and let this go because surely a marriage couldn't survive on such strings of sad suspicion, of done summits. Besides, he had more important mountains to conquer here, whether this location be just an expansive landscape in the American Southwest originally belonging to the Indians, or a version of the infamous "Underworld" that was imitating Robert's love of such old folklore.

Hell, this was only the beginning.

Thanks for reading, this one was interesting to write especially with adding the children in and they may come back later on. Next chapter though will definitely be more smut focused ❤️

131 notes · View notes

hyprfixate · 6 months

Text

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part four

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 5.7k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au, gang au, minho has some issues to work out

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: I had to cut this chapter in half and then do some plucking cause... I got a bit out of hand. Please enjoy this longer than usual chapter to make up for my constant disappearances.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tag list: @mal-lunar-28 @dutchessskarma @weakforskz @liknws @goddessraven2371 @beaann @deadpoetsandhoney @poody1608 @soobs-things @3nch1i @babyphotos0325 @skz1-4-3 @justcallmemitchie96 (comment on this post to be added!)

part one - part two - part three - part four

It was so silent in the room, you could hear your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You weren’t entirely sure what being soul ties meant, but with the way the atmosphere changed, you could tell everyone was now on edge.

Chan spoke, his voice heavy with trepidation. “Min…”

Minho shook his head and stood up from his place on the floor. “No,” he said. “I’m not doing this. Fuck this.”

And before anyone could stop him, Minho pushed past Chan and all but ran down the stairs.

You stared after him, your body almost frozen in shock. You certainly weren’t the only one either; behind you, Hyunjin had his hand slapped over his mouth, and you were almost sure Chan hadn’t blinked in the last 30 seconds.

After a beat of heavy silence, the three of you turned to look at each other, and despite your overwhelming ignorance, you spoke first.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Chan sighed as you spoke, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “He always does this,” he muttered. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “I’m so sorry to leave, but I’m gonna have to go after him. Stay here with Hyunjin, and I’ll send Jisung up when I leave.”

He paused on the top step, stopping to look at you with an apologetic yet firm look. “We’ll explain everything when we can. But you have to stay here.”

And with that, he was gone.

You turned your attention back to Hyunjin, whose wide eyes were fixed on the staircase. He glanced at you for a second, an untraceable emotion shading his face, before fixing his eyes on the floor.

Your stomach twisted, almost feeling ashamed of yourself. What have I done? you thought. And what the fuck do I do now?

“Did…” your voice was tentative in the silence. “Did I just ruin Minho’s life?”

“No,” Hyunjin whispered. “I’m just… I never thought– we never thought we would… his soul tie?”

For some reason, guilt clouded your mind. Not for Minho, though you weren’t feeling particularly negative toward him anymore, but for Hyunjin and Chan. They both looked genuinely stressed at the revelation, which made you think that the deeper, underlying meaning behind this was not good. The only question in your mind now was whether or not you wanted to be a part of the deeper meaning.

Whatever it was, you could tell the workers at the piercing parlor were into some kind of trouble. If their magic story was true, it was something that was completely over your head. You’d lived a normal life up until now, and you were certain that you wanted to continue having a normal life. Magic bloodline be damned, you were not about to get caught up in a battle that wasn’t yours.

At that moment, you decided to ignore Chan’s warning, and go home.

However, you weren’t entirely sure how to do that at this moment. Chan had asked, or nearly begged, that you stay put so he could explain things when he came back. However, he had left you there. With Hyunjin of all people. Now, you’d only known the redhead for a week, and only saw him in person one and a half times, but you had the feeling that he would not– could not– stop you if you decided to run. At least, not with violence.

You eyed Hyunjin’s frame, taking note that he was more gifted in height than thickness– if you ran, he would catch up quickly because of his long legs, but if needed, you could take him.

You watched him sit up and rub his hands along his jeans anxiously.

You nodded to yourself. Yeah. You could definitely take him.

You began calculating the amount of footsteps from where you were to the staircase. If you walked quickly, it would take about 5 individual steps from where you were standing to the first stair. There were at least 10 stairs in the staircase, then maybe 10 more steps out the front door. With a quick estimate, you realized two of your steps were probably equivalent to one of his. If you could get to the stairs without being noticed, you would have enough of a head start that you’d be just out of reach for him, and could probably make it home.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that this could actually work. However, as you took your first scoot, Hyunjin let out a soft sigh.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Please. Don’t try to go anywhere. I can’t let you leave.”

A cold chill ran through your body. What was with the telepathy? How did they always seem to know something before it was said aloud?

You turned around with your arms crossed over your chest defiantly. “Why not?”

You hoped your glare would shrivel Hyunjin into a pliant little wrinkle that you could convince to let you free, but upon meeting his eyes you realized that he was entirely unaffected. Besides the still-present air of surprise and confusion, he looked at you like nothing happened– the same way he looked when he met you.

For some reason, this made you angrier. You’d just been attacked, sort of kidnapped, learned that you weren’t technically a regular human, and found out you’re soul bound to the angry blonde in the parlor. Yet he seemed to talk to you like it was just a normal Tuesday. You stared daggers into his eyes, hoping you could melt his brain into soup with your glare.

He patted the space next to him on the couch, breaking you from your trance. “I’ll explain, just, please come sit down.”

You thought it over for a moment. While Hyunjin seemed nice enough, fundamentally you were still being held hostage by a group of men. As curious as you were about the situation, you were angrier, and you didn’t want to give the impression that you were comfortable being mindless and obedient. For all you know, this could be some elaborate scheme.

So, instead of walking toward the couch, you turned around and made your way to the staircase and started walking down the stairs.

Hyunjin called after you, his tone sounding almost like a warning. You flipped him off and continued your descent, laughing to yourself about how easy this was.

Your laugh proved premature when you heard Hyunjin sigh again, and then within a second, his fingers closed around your wrist.

You gasped and tried to jerk your hand away, but his grip was strong, almost inhumanely so. You spun around and tugged your arm away from him again, using your other hand to attempt to pry his fingers off of you. Even though you knew you were using all of your strength, his grip would not budge. After a moment of pulling, you glared up at him and noticed something looked… different… in his eyes. They were dark, almost like his pupils had dilated so much that they swallowed every millimeter of the soft brown in his eyes. His gaze was unwavering, and though you wanted to say something rude, you noticed you felt… off.

Your entire body felt like it was slowing down. Every thought seemed to go one mile an hour through your head, and you could feel every muscle you used to blink. It felt like you were being dragged through molasses or wet cement.You were terrified, and you looked up at Hyunjin with what you hoped were pleading eyes.

He parted his lips and said your name sternly. Still stuck like a deer in headlights, all you could do was stare at him and hang on to his words.

“You cannot leave.” His voice was serious and deep. “I understand that you’re skeptical and frightened, but I can’t help with that until you sit down and let me explain.”

You felt so pliant and relaxed that it made you dizzy. Swaying a bit, you gripped the arm holding you to keep yourself from falling over.

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I’m not going to let you fall. But squeeze my arm if you understand what I just said.”

Upon your gentle squeeze, the redhead nodded and guided you back to the safety of the couch, still holding onto your wrist. He gently eased you into the cushions, watching to make sure you wouldn’t fall over. As his hand slid away from your wrist, rational thought came back to you, and the dizzy feeling began to clear like ember dwindling from a campfire. You felt a bit breathless and pressed your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm your breathing.

Hyunjin looked sheepish as he stood near you. “I’m sorry,” He sighed, sitting down in his spot next to you. “I didn’t want to use my powers like that, but I was scared you would leave.”

You stared at him blankly as he spoke. The brown was back in his eyes, shining like fresh coins in the summer sun. “Why shouldn’t I leave,” you said between breaths. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’m starting to feel like a hostage.”

Hyunjin sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as tho he was pleading for the strength to deal with you. “Can I explain now?”

“Please do.”

“The reason you can’t leave,” he started. He opened his mouth to say more, but you could see the words get stuck in his throat. His annoyed aura was quickly replaced with one of anxiety. He began to chew on his nails, staring at the floor as though the answer would rise from the floorboards. Finally, he let out a huff of air and shifted in his seat. “You can’t leave, because if you do, you’re going to die.”

Lead dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He couldn’t have just said that. Your mind was playing tricks on you. “I’m sorry…What?”

He shifted again and brought his hand back up to his mouth. You noticed his fingernails were down to the stubs, and he was now just gnawing on his skin nervously.

“You didn’t mishear me. If you leave, you’re going to die.”

Your eyes were blank as you nodded. “Okay. That’s what I thought you said. Are you going to elaborate or am I just going to have to trust you blindly.”

“No,” he mumbled. “I’ll explain. Just– give me a second.”

Watching him, you realized that this was really hard for him to talk about. He was nearly shaking at this point, his breath coming out ragged and labored. After a moment, he let out a deep breath and turned to you.

“When you’re soul tied to someone, it’s more than just an emotional connection. It’s a connection in every conceivable way: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Your lives will be intertwined forever, and you don’t have a choice about it. The bond is eternal.”

Your anger had now subsided, and you hung onto Hyunjin’s every word like it was the gospel.

“The thing is, you won’t know you’re soul tied to someone until you meet them.” He was staring ahead now, his eyes dull and almost lifeless. “And sometimes, you don’t figure out who it is until it’s too late.”

You shook your head. “I don’t understand, Hyunjin.”

He focused his eyes back on you, and you could see they were beginning to get red. His face was flushed, and he chewed on his bottom lip before continuing. “You can’t fall in love with anyone else. The magic of the bond won’t allow it. Even if you begin to think you are falling for someone else, you’ll get sick. So many people have lost their lives because they met their soul tie after they were already married or in a relationship. Not many people are fond on the idea of giving up their families for a total stranger.”

You nodded slowly. “So… I can’t leave because I’ll go live my life and possibly fall in love with someone and die?”

Hyunjin shook his head, and his expression was grim. “The magic of the bond thrives on physical connection, like being in close proximity. Once you know who your soul tie is, that’s when the power of the bond is activate, and the need to be physically close begins. When you’re with your soul tie, your powers get stronger, you get healthier– all the things like that. But if you’re not around your soul tie…”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you’re not around your soul tie, both of you will die. If something happens to you, your soul tie will feel it. And if you die, they die too.”

“So… by coming here and getting my piercing…”

He nodded. “You’ve sentenced yourself and Minho to death.”

Before you could even begin to process what you just learned, you heard a quiet voice coming from the staircase. Whoever it was seemed to be singing to themself under their breath. You stared at their shadow as they inched closer and closer to the top, your stomach twisting and turning with anxiety.

Jisung peered over the banister and caught sight of you and Hyunjin. “Oh!” His smile was bright. “It’s you again!”

You couldn’t find the strength to match his excitement. You waved weakly at him and went back to staring at the ground intently.

Noticing the somber atmosphere in the room, Jisung cautiously made his way over to one of the lounge chairs and paused. “I’m sorry… is this a bad time? It’s just that.. Chan told me to come up here when I was done with my last customer, so I thought….”

“You’re fine, Ji,” Hyunjin mumbled. He motioned for him to sit down. “There’s something you need to know anyway.”

You could see the anxiety begin to settle on Jisung’s face as he gently lowered himself into the chair. “What’s going on?”

Hyunjin took a deep breath before gesturing towards you and introducing you. “You remember her, right?”

Jisung nodded slowly.

“Well. She’s Minho’s soul tie.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, he glanced between you and Hyunjin as though he believed it was an elaborate prank, and one of you would crack. Taking in your already anxious and disheveled figure, he closed his mouth and proceeded to blink repeatedly.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my G… I–what?”

“It seems like I’m a Sirid,” you offered weakly.

Jisung glanced at Hyunjin, who offered him a very weak shrug in return. The grey haired boy attempted to regain his composure quickly.

“Oh wow. That’s… that’s, um…. So, which clan are you?”

“That we don’t know yet,” Hyunjin cut in He seemed grateful for the change of topic. “She never knew she was a Sirid, so she never used her powers.”

“Wait, so, how did you end up here? In the human realm?” Jisung tilted his head in confusion. “Making a portal takes–” He cut himself off, biting his tongue. “Well, it takes a lot of energy.”

You shrugged, completely clueless. “I’ve just… always been here I guess.”

Hyunjin paused for a second. “What year were you born?”

“I’m 21 so… 2002.”

Jisung scratched his chin. “Oh, well that’s way before everything happened with Ardor,” he mumbled.

You peered at him, confused. “What’s Ardor?”

Jisung’s eyes widened and his face flushed. “Ah– no one–i mean, nothing! It’s not important. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”

You turned to Hyunjin for answers, but his eyes seemed glazed over with some unreadable emotion. It was almost like he was having a flashback of some kind. Once again, you could tell that whatever backstory came from this was not good.

Eventually, the red head sighed, and looked at you. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll tell you. Iphorus is… not like here. There’s a ruler appointed every 15 years, called the Templar. It’s like… a monarchy, but worse. Everyone is expected to obey and praise the Templar and anyone who steps out of line is considered unworthy, and can be banished or… killed.”

“Ardor was the Templar four years ago,” Jisung added. “He wasn’t bad, not at first, but then his wife met her soul tie and chose to be with them, not him. Things were.. Not great after that.”

“Things went to shit,” Hyunjin corrected. “He went absolutely crazy. He hired the best minds in the entire realm to come up with a magic stronger than the magic of the soul tie. He burned all of the text on soul ties and made a law that anyone who meets their soul tie while already in a relationship had to stay in that relationship and wither away slowly. If not, they’d be caught and publicly punished.”

“And by punished, I assume you mean…?”

“Yeah,” Jisung confirmed. “More death and stuff.”

“Then the war started,” Hyunjin breathed. “It was.. Nasty to say the least. The population dwindled by 20%.”

You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to beat the chill that just surrounded you. “That sounds horrible,” you mumbled. “How did you guys end up escaping?”

The two boys shared a look over your head before Hyunjin continued. “It was a hard decision,” he said gently. “But, ultimately, we knew didn’t want to be in that society anymore. So Minho rounded us up and.. We left through a portal. It’s been, what, 3 years now?”

Jisung nodded. “We can’t go back. Even if we wanted to.”

Your voice came out softer than you expected. “Why not? Can’t you just open another portal?”

Jisung paused, taking a breath before he continued. “No, we can’t. There’s no way to make a portal here– not unless you bring the materials from Iphorus. Even then it’s iffy because our magic is weaker here.”

“So.. you’re stuck here, essentially.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nodded. “But it’s not bad. It’s probably for the greater good of everyone that we stay here.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But.. what about your families? Don’t you miss them? Do they–”

Hyunjin gripped your hand quickly and shook his head, panic on his face. He had a finger over his lips, and told you with his eyes to stop speaking. You nodded at him, albeit very confused, before he looked away. You followed his gaze to see that he was staring at Jisung, who had that glazed over, flashback look in his eyes– the same one Hyunjin had earlier.

Jisung was trembling. He started digging his nails into his pants, scratching so frantically you thought he’s rip right through the fabric. You could hear him whispering under his breath, but his voice was so soft that you had no idea what he was saying.

“Ji,” Hyunjin whispered. He reached over you and touched Jisung’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re here with me. We’re okay.”

Jisung put one of his hands over Hyunjins, repeating the comforting words under his breath. Though you were in the middle of things, literally, you felt so far away and helpless.All you could do was watch, and hope that Jisung would be alright.

After a second, you watched him squeeze Hyunjin’s hand and nod. “I’m okay,” he whispered. He looked up at you, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t… hearing about family is… not great.”

“I’m sorry–”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. You couldn’t have known.”

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I have a… complicated family history. So hearing about it can make me a bit uncomfortable. But I’m okay now. I promise.”

You nodded and let silence wash over the three of you as you stared at your lap. Iphorus sounded like an awful place, and though you were now technically a hostage of some kind, it sounded much better than being sent somewhere like that. It was a wonder how the boys seemed to get out mostly unscathed.

A million thoughts raced through your head at once. It was so overwhelming, all of it. You could feel the beginnings of an anxiety attach cresting it’s head over your conscious.

Hyunjin’s hand found it’s way to you, rubbing slow, calming circles on your arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Jisung added sheepishly. “We’re here now, we’re safe from all of that.”

Your voice began to quiver as you tried to speak. “So… going back to the whole Ardor thing, is that… is all of that why Minho made the earring? So that people could find their soul ties and avoid death?”

“Something like that,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I don’t really know– it’s not my story to tell.”

“His invention did a lot of good during Ardor’s reign.” Jisung piped up. “But… I don't really know his intention for making it. Unless it was–”

“Either way.” Hyunjin cut him off, shooting him a look that you couldn’t decipher. His hand was still rubbing circles on your arm, and that cloudy, pliant feeling as beginning to return to your head. As long as you weren’t panicking, you didn’t really care.

“Either way, that’s our history now. We’re trying to stay focused on what our future is gonna look like.”

“I guess it’ll be the nine of us from now on,” Jisung said. “I wonder who’s gonna be your roommate while we clean up the guest room.”

“Wait, nine? There’s more of you?”

Jisung blinked. “Oh, I guess you didn’t meet everyone else yet. Well, you know me, Hyunjin, Chan, and Minho of course.” He held up fingers with each name. “That leaves Changbin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin.”

Noticing your anxious gaze, he continued. “But they’re good guys! I promise, it’ll be okay.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, a banging sound came from downstairs. The three of you shot up out of your comfortable slouches, eyes glued to the staircase. You could hear feet pounding up the stairs and the pants of breath from two people. Your anxiety settled for a moment when you saw it was Minho and Chan, but when you noticed their intense demeanor, it quickly returned.

Chan raced over to the three of you, hustling you out of your seats with urgency. “Get up,” he ordered. “Now. We need to leave.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he breathed. “Just– please. We need to get out of here right now.”

You allowed yourself to get pulled off of the couch and nearly shoved into the corner of the room farthest from the staircase. Minho and Chan moved around the room in a way that nearly seemed choreographed, despite the air of seriousness looming over them. Chan shoved everyone’s belongings into a duffel bag which he tossed to Jisung. Minho, on the other hand, slipped on a black sweatshirt and beanie before standing by the top of the stairs.

Chan stepped in front of the three of you, pressing his hand against the wall until it seemed to disappear right before your eyes. A large black door replaced what was there before, and Hyunjin opened it to reveal a long, dark staircase.

“Get downstairs to the car,” Chan spoke. “Felix and Seungmin are already in there. Changbin is driving, do not leave without him. Understood?”

The two boys behind you nodded. As Hyunjin began making his way down the stairs, Jisung slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and reached his hand out to you. “I know you still don’t trust us that much, but please, you have to keep holding my hand.”

As you stepped forward to grab Jisung’s hand, a feeling of dread washed over you. It felt like you would throw up any second. You could feel your mind begin to get rid of all rational thought and go right into panic mode.

No no no, your consciousness chanted. We can’t leave. Stop. Stop!

“Wait,” you cried. Your sudden outburst had both Chan and Jisung surprised, but you couldn’t calm your voice down even if you tried. “W-What about Chan and Minho? Are we just leaving them here?”

“It’s for the best, they’re gonna be okay, but I need to get you out of here now.”

Jisung reached for you, but you stepped back, trembling like a wounded animal. For some reason you were terrified. Your entire body felt cold and your mouth felt like cotton.

You shook your head at him, and felt the words coming out of your mouth before you could process them. “No! I’m not… I’m not going anywhere!”

From the bottom of the staircase, Hyunjin called your name with urgency. “Please,” he shouted. “Come on, we need to go!”

“We’ll catch up, Jin,” Jisung called. He turned his attention back to you, his big doe eyes pleading with you. “I know you’re scared, but it’s an emergency and we need to go. I need to get you out of here, you’re not safe.”

You felt crazy. The dwindling embers of your rational brain begged you to go with Jisung, to run into the arms of safety and protection. But a louder, roaring fire spoke over it, and against all of your instincts you were desperate to stay.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Jisung grabbed your hand tightly, no longer waiting for you to make the first move, and he began to drag you towards the stairs. You dug your heels into the ground to stop him, but he just began to pull harder. He was adamant about leaving, and you were adamant about staying. You writhed in his grasp with such desperation and vigor, you felt as though your body would explode.

You couldn’t leave. It felt like your body would tear in half if you left the two of them there. It felt like you were being sucked into a whirlpool, water splashing around you and knocking the wind out of your chest. You couldn’t stand it. Though you knew Jisung was strong, you felt an unnatural strength take over you as you ripped your hand out of his and stumbled back into the room.

“No, we can’t… we can’t leave them here.” Your words came out breathless, as though you were having a panic attack. “I won’t go.”

A hand grasped your shoulder, and you whipped around to see Minho standing right behind you. He gripped your shoulder tightly– not tight enough that it would hurt, but firm enough that it would ground you. Your breath continued to rake its way out of your chest as you stared at him, eyes darting frantically around his face.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Breathe with me.”

You let you eyes close, and without effort, your breathing began to match his rhythm. It was almost scary how easy it was to follow him. With every deep, dramatic breath he took, your body was able to copy him without a single thought.

The breathing was beginning to help clear the thick smog that covered your brain, and though you knew you weren’t thinking completely rationally, you felt clear enough to slow down and listen to what he was saying.

You let your eyes open, and found that he was staring at you intently. The expression on his face was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You were used to his scowl and glare, but now he was looking at you with a type of gentleness you didn’t recognize. Goosebumps raced across your flesh as you waited for him to speak.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “Look. I’m going to be okay. Okay? You can go. They’re taking you somewhere safe, and I’ll come join you when I’m all done here.”

“But–”

He shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Emotions overwhelmed you the more you stared into his eyes. It seemed like everything around you had faded into nothingness, and you and Minho were alone in an entirely white room. Your senses were filled with nothing but him– his cinnamon scent, the softness of his hands, the sound of his heartbeat. You were entirely engulfed in him, even your brain seemed to be chanting his name over and over like a mantra, but something in you wasn’t satisfied. You needed skin to skin contact.

You lifted your hand and put it on his, and you felt your entire body come to life, almost like you’d been shocked with enough voltage to power a small town. Minho closed his eyes and grunted softly under his breath, and you knew he felt the sensation too.

He opened his eyes after a moment, forcing them into focus before he continued to stare at you. His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand, and you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“You can go,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You found yourself whispering back to him. “Okay”

Jisung took the opportunity to slip his hand into yours again, and gently drag you away from Minho and into the staircase. The two of you held eye contact the entire time. It was unwavering, intense eye contact that made the line of sight feel sacred. You couldn’t pull your eyes away until Chan closed to staircase door.

Though you were no longer in that weird trance, your mind was still fuzzy and your senses were still full of nothing but Minho, so much so that you were barely aware of anything happening around you. You knew that Jisung was running, and obviously you had to be running too if you were still holding his hand, but it felt like you were floating above the ground, completely untouchable.

After a moment, you found yourself in the alley behind the parlor. The air was thick with the stench of garbage and rotten food, and the ground beneath your feet was sticky. You look up to see that there was a large SUV parked with the back door open. You let Jisung guide you toward it, before he stuck his head in and said God-knows-what to God-knows-who. Upon getting a response, he turned around and offered you his hand once again. The fog of your mind was beginning to clear, and you stepped towards him and took his hand, climbing into the third row of seats in the car.

You were met with many unfamiliar faces. There were two people in the row ahead of you, one in the driver’s seat, and another sitting next to you. You saw Hyunjin’s red hair cresting over the passenger’s seat, and your anxiety began to dissipate. At least there were two people you knew. After a quick count you realized that the unfamiliar faces were all four people you hadn’t met yet.

You turned back to Jisung, who was sliding into the row next to you. Once he was situated and the seat was back in place, you felt the car vibrate as the engine started, then it peeled off into the street at what felt like a dangerous speed. You’d almost forgotten the dire situation you were in after… whatever that was, happened with Minho. Thinking about him being back in the parlor without you, your anxiety began to come back, and you began picking at the fabric of your jeans.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” Jisung whispered. He gently reached over and laid your hand flat on your leg. “Are you anxious about the unfamiliar people? I told you they’re all nice guys.”

Deciding to keep your thoughts on Minho to yourself, you nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know them,” You whispered back. “And so much is happening right now. Do they even know who I am? Do they know about… you know?”

A sweet sounding giggle came from next to you. You glanced over your shoulder to see the most angelic looking man you’d ever seen in your life. His hair was bleached white and fluffed around his face, perfectly accentuating his symmetrical face. Freckles were dotted all across his rosy red cheeks, from over the bridge of his nose to around his eyes– which were nearly closed as his smile took up his entire face.

“I know who you are,” he giggled. “You’re Minho’s soul tie. I’m Felix! Nice to meet you.”

You stared at him nearly in awe of his features. He looked like the picture of innocence and joy– almost out of place in the somber space within the car.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he continued. “I’m nice, so is Changbin and Innie.”

He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Seungmin’s kind of annoying, but it’ll grow on you, I promise.”

“I heard that.”

“Stop bickering back there,” the driver, who, if you remembered correctly, was named Changbin. He adjusted his rear view mirror and peered at everyone. Your eyes met, and he lifted his eyebrow curiously, almost like there was a question brewing in his brain. He dismissed it quickly by shaking his head.

Despite his extreme speed, he maneuvered through traffic so smoothly you questioned if the other cars were even real. He spoke up again, “You all buckle up, I’m speeding.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Felix sit up in his seat and put on his seat belt. When he noticed you staring, he gave you another smile before reaching up and buckling your seat belt too.

“Oh– uh… thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned.

He peered at you curiously through his long lashes. He seemed to be searching your face, or trying to read your expression. You held eye contact and, for a moment, his cheerful expression dropped and was replaced with something untraceable. But just as quickly as it fell, it was back. You thought your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Felix said as he leaned back. “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll treat you like family.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t even process what he said. Your brain was almost too full of thoughts, and it felt like it was going to explode. You were terrified, and rightfully so. Not because Changbin was speeding, though you were watching the speedometer intently, but because you were fleeing some unknown threat. Something that was bad enough that you need to leave immediately, and yet, Chan and Minho were staying back, preparing to face the threat head on.

What terrified you most, though, was the fact the the very fabric of your being felt like it was being torn apart the farther you were from the parlor, and as you stared at the setting sun, you gripped your knees and shuddered.

Please be okay, Minho you thought. Please please please.

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worldseer · 5 months

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Indulgence of Sweetness (Kar'niss x AFAB!Tav)

Warnings/Content: AFAB! Tav, Spoilers for BG3, NSFW, monster fucking, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, detailed description of genitalia, detailed kissing, Kar'niss is a giant spider person, OOC(?)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist: Coming soon! Author's Note: Caved and decided to put this on here to show that I can in fact make good content. I wrote this for fun mostly on a Discord server. And I spent too much time thinking what it would look like, if you catch my drift. I also tweaked a few things about it so it's easier to read and more cohesive. Enjoy the filth! Tags: @oharahive (comment to be added to taglist)

The darkness of this place was suffocating, dreary, and unkind. From what you heard, just beyond the darkness lied monsters eager to kill, maim and eat. Kar'niss, the strange and broken man he was, was able to be convinced to come with your party with the protection of his lantern. He unnerved you at first, the exoskeleton and long thin legs that carried his drider body. It was uncomfortable to look at them for too long. His speech and personality was also concerning, since he spoke in a broken sort of form and rarely referred to himself. It revealed his mental state, how he was. . . not all there. But he was still definitely there. He was. . . strange. But you had to admit, a part of you was curious about him. You had heard of driders, what they did and how they came to be. A part of you wanted to know more, but you kept your prodding questions to yourself. There's no easy way to suddenly ask all about a creature's culture and anatomy after all. . . especially when they seemed like touchy subjects.

Time still passed in this dark place, and shadows grew darker as a form of night swallowed the lands. With his lantern to protect, Kar'niss thought it best to settle for a makeshift camp. The others didn't seem too enthused, but there was a difference between sleeping on rough dirt and being torn apart by terrible creatures. Besides, who was going to argue with the drider who had lived most of his life in this place and remained unscathed?

Stress left you frustrated, naturally. With how this whole quest was going, it was no wonder that you needed some form of relief. Seeking sleep was of no use, your mind was far too active. Tiring yourself out wasn't useful either, considering that most of your muscles throbbed with pain and soreness. No, nothing was working. You needed something to help calm your mind. . . and your gaze moved down to the sleep trousers you wore. "Fuck. . . maybe just one will help," you mutter to yourself, pulling your pants off and shivering as you were exposed to the chill in the air. You were already getting wet, as if your body agreed that this was the best form of stress relief you could perform at this time. Or maybe your body was trying to give you a sign that you needed to find someone to take care of your needs. Your fingers circled your clit slowly, your breath catching. Gods. . . it had been a while since you last got off. And you were too cowardly to ask anyone in your party for a "favor". . . especially now. They'd all likely complain that in the middle of a dark land was definitely not the time and place to get it on. Your hand would do for now. It worked before. . .

A shuffling outside of your small tent snapped you away from the daze of pleasure, and a familiar hissing voice moved in the air. "A sweet scent. . . a sweet, succulent scent in the air. . . is it a gift, your Majesty? A gift for us?" Kar'niss quietly whispers. A clawed hand touched the tarp of your tent, and you scrambled to pull the blankets of your bedroll over yourself. The same clawed hand moved the tarp, and the hungry expression of Kar'niss came into view. However, his expression dropped as soon as his many eyes trained on you. "Oh. . . True Soul. . . Apologies, to you and her Majesty- I smelled a sweetness. . . Have you smelled it?" he says, his voice quiet and tentative now. You blinked a few times, "Uhm. . . Not that I know of." If he was referring to what you thought he was, then this turned into a much more awkward situation that you first thought.

Kar'niss turned his head, his long spider legs moving him forward as he sniffed the air. A shaky sigh left him as he closed his eyes, his form trembling. "The scent. . . it lingers most here. . . fills the air. . . so so sweet, just like her Majesty. . . oh so sweet. . ." he whispers, almost looking to be drooling now. His pedipalps twitched with what looked to be excitement. Kar'niss seems to disregard the invasion of privacy, seeking with his nose the source of the "sweet scent" he speaks of. His legs lower himself, moving closer to the ground. . . and closer to you. He inhales deeply, his face close to the blanket that was covering your indecency. His eyes finally open, and they move to be trained on your face. "It comes from you. . . True Soul. . . The scent. . . oh please, show me what smells so delicious, so sweet and pure~. . ." he purrs, almost begging with a pleading expression. It's. . . oddly cute, and alluring. You figure it's time to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Perhaps this was best to never tell anyone. . . take it to the grave, so to speak.

With a shy tone, you say, "I was. . . tending to some self relief and. . ." You move the blanket, exposing your still wet pussy. Kar'niss looks absolutely stunned, eyes now zeroed in on the slick folds and your clit peeking out. A growling sort of exhale leaves him. ". . . True Soul . . . you. . . smell. . . so. . ." he says, lips twitching and hands reaching out for you. However he stops himself. "What am I. . . what is. . . what is happening to me? I feel. . . hungry. . . but. . . not for food or blood. . ." he asks himself. Rarely he had ever referred to himself til now. It was as if his mind was clearing, or perhaps some long lost instinct brought back some sanity. How funny, that exposure to a wet cunt could bring back sanity to a man. "Forgive me- I shouldn't be here. . . you seek rest, True Soul. . ." But before he leaves, you find yourself grasping his arm, an arm that is defended and tough with a grey exoskeleton. He pauses, looking at you with surprise. ". . . You can stay, Kar'niss. . ." you whisper, and you see Kar'niss' eyes move over you. He swallows, and finally rests his spider body on the ground of the small tent. He takes up half of the space, but you don't seem to mind his proximity. Kar'niss looks at you with cautious eyes, silently asking permission and confirmation. It was almost cute, and you just nodded to reassure him again.

Maybe it was lust, a need for touch and attention. Or maybe you were curious of the drow drider. What ever the reason, you wanted him here and wanted see what he would do. Kar'niss let out a sigh as his eyes move to look at your pussy again. "It has been. . . long since. . . I've seen. . . such a quim like yours. . ." he admits, his hands reaching for you again. Warm, tough exoskeleton presses against your calves as Kar'niss gently grasps you, as though he was hesitant to touch, like he could corrupt and taint you. He continues, "So long since I . . . felt the wetness. . . the warmth. . ." He leans closer, clawed hands almost pulling you towards him and his eyes moving to look at your face. The many eyes of Kar'niss are dark, but you can see his irises are a rich brown in color. He stares for a moment, then his gaze moves down to your lips. His lips part, scarred and dry, "So long since I have. . . tasted another. . . Can I. . . May I taste you, True Soul?" His breath is warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill outside. His eyes move to yours again, and he looks as though he may beg and plead just to kiss you.

Curiosity mixed with need and loneliness was a cocktail of emotions that you never expected to feel, especially now with Kar'niss. But hey, you live life once, right? You wordlessly nod, and a shuddering breath leaves Kar'niss. "Forgive me-" he whispers, then presses his lips against yours. It's. . . surprisingly nice. His lips were a bit dry, but he was careful. Tentative, even. As though he didn't want to overwhelm you with his neediness. His hands moved to your shoulders now, pedipalps grazing the skin of your legs. After a moment, he pulled away but not far. His nose bumped against yours as he whispered again, "More. . . please let me have more. . ." A slick, blackened tongue moves from the inside of his mouth, wetting his lips. In a moment of boldness, you flick your tongue against his. Kar'niss growls lowly, but you know it's not to threaten. It's want. He takes it as an invitation (which it was), and pushed his tongue past your lips. He tastes bittersweet, like the darkest sort of chocolate or cranberries. A lingering taste of iron could be tasted as well. What surprised you most was that his tongue was dexterous. . . and long. It swirls around your own, making your mouth feel full as he seems to try all he can to navigate your mouth and taste every flavor it had to offer. The mingling taste of your spit and his was dizzying. He barely let your tongue move into his mouth, likely to make sure he didn't accidentally bite or cut you with his sharp teeth. When he finally moves away, a "Hah~. . . " sort of sound left him as he exhaled. His tongue was still slick with saliva, and hung low slightly past his chin. Something that could only be described as lust filled his many eyes. His tongue moved again, licking a stripe up your throat. "More. . . I want more. . ." he purrs, and trails down your body. Wet saliva created a sheen on your body as he tongue moved over your warm skin.

You didn't stop him, especially when he hoisted your thighs over his shoulders, and pressed his face into your folds. He inhales deeply and groans loudly. He stays there a moment, inhaling your scent over and over as if he can't get enough of it. "Oh yes. . . So perfect and sweet. . . I need this pussy-" he growls, and you nearly scream from the feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing right into you. He laps and devours, claws careful not to break the skin as he holds you still. His tongue explores and fills your greedy and wanting warmth, soft and whining moans leaving Kar'niss as he tastes you. It's as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted. . . His tongue eventually pulls back so he can lick through your folds. Kar'niss pauses, clawed thumb pulling the hood of your puffy clit back and grinning. "Ah. . . So pretty. . . wonder what this will make you do if I just. . ." he whispers, and begins to suckle on your clit. His eyes close and he moans with you, cycling between licking and sucking on the tender bud. The sounds of slurping and moaning are so lewd and loud that you're surprised that no one has woken up or heard it. But then, he suddenly pulls away when you're about to cum and looks ashamed. You would've complained, had you not noticed his expression first. ". . . Why. . . why do I feel so. . ." he whispers, and then grunts. Kar'niss covers his face with his hands as he pulls back, and you notice a slickness between two plates slightly above where his pedipalps were. A hidden slit, as it were, where a heavy slick bubbled and leaked. Was that. . . precum? Kar'niss suddenly looks embarrassed. "Don't look at me! Don't look at my shame! I didn't mean to-" You move forward, pulling Kar'niss' hands away from his face. "Whoa- hey! It's alright. . . what's going on?" you ask. Kar'niss looks away, one of his hands moving to attempt to hide his face once again, "I'm. . . aroused. . . I want to. . . I want to breed. I need to. . ." "Breed?" "Yes. . . breed. . . My kind gets very. . . excited when we are uhm. . . Sorry, True Soul . . . I do not mean to overwhelm you, especially with. . . carnal desires." "Oh . . Are you holding yourself back?" "Quite literally. . . I. . . know my anatomy. . . intimidates those who are. . . not my kind. . ." " . . . Show me." Kar'niss looks startled, "W-what?" "Show me how aroused you are. . ." With a shaky inhale, there's a squelching noise and you look down. From the hidden slit, what you can only assume is his cock moves out at a sluggish pace and stands proud. It's almost sticky looking, with precum beading and running down the shaft. The head is pointed, and the shaft curves with slight differences in thickness. It's long, just like his tongue. . . and grey in color. It's pretty, in an odd way. For a moment, you wonder how it tastes . . . and if it would all fit. It twitches in the cold air, seeking attention from you. Kar'niss looks away, his hands covering his face in shame. Before he says anything bad about himself again, you grasp his cock. A choked gasp leaves him as you experimentally pump him. Precum dribbles continuously from the tip, coating your hand in mere seconds. It's stickier than whatever is keeping his cock lubricated, like warm caramel. You lift your fingers to your mouth and taste it, and Kar'niss looks like he may implode from the sight in front of him. Sweet. Like pure melted sugar. You look at Kar'niss, deciding it would be too cruel if you didn't allow him to indulge his desires and leave him hard. He doesn't seem like the type to just- go and deal with this himself. . .

"Do you want me?" you ask, and Kar'niss nods silently with a great eagerness. You move closer to Kar'niss, and his arms wrap around you. He's warm to the touch, warmer than you expected. His pedipalps guide your legs to wrap around his "hips" as he "sits" on the ground, his cock touching the inside of your thigh. Another shaking breath leaves Kar'niss, "Let me breed you, True Soul. . . please. . . I can't hold myself back. . . I promise to be gentle, to be good, just please. . ." Oh he was too cute. . . You move so the tip presses against your opening, and Kar'niss lets out a strained noise. It's a slow stretch, but due to the lubrication on his cock, it feels nothing but natural and painless. Smooth, the entire way down. You take him, and his cockhead hits perfectly against your cervix. He moans, "Oh Gods- oh my-" He gasps before speaking again, "MMMMmmmm. . . I need to-" Kar'niss holds you like a vice, and his pedipalps act like another set of arms, guiding your hips as he thrusts at a slow pace. It's like he's afraid to pull out and be too far away from being buried in your warmth, almost grinding instead of actually thrusting back and forth. He huffs and puffs, his face pressed against your neck. "So. . . warm. . . so. . . tight. . . Hah~! Mmm . . . Forgive me, True Soul, forgive my selfishness. . . I don't deserve such a perfect pussy to breed-" he whispers against your skin, his pedipalps guiding your hips faster. Your orgasm washes over you with surprising timing, but he doesn't stop. Instead, he growls lowly as you clamp down on him. "More- more- gotta prepare-" he mumbles, his sharp teeth brushing over your neck. His grip tightens as he thrusts faster, gritting his teeth now. You're surprised he's going so fast and not yet cum, especially since he seemed to have been going through a very long dry spell.. He whines, growls, gasps, every kind of erotic noise tumbling out his throat. It's primal, instinctual, and natural for him.

His sounds mix with yours, and he shakes as he continues to fuck you hard. A second orgasm comes and goes quickly, and you're overstimulated as he brings you a third. It's only then as you clamp and gush on him for a third time that his hips finally stutter. "Have to. . . make sure. . . your quim. . . takes me well. . . must. . . satisfy. . . my love. . ." he groans, then thrusts harder. You're too far gone to understand what exactly he means by that. All you want is him, nothing else mattered. His sharp teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, keeping a grip on you. After a moment he pulls away and licks over the mark he made, looking proud of himself. "Yes. . . mate. . . finally. . . mate. . ." he coos, the words quiet as he nears his climax. It's overwhelming, but all the more rewarding when he finally cums. It triggers your fourth orgasm once he cums, and it only seems to intensify his own orgasm. His mouth opens in a silent scream at first, then an almost broken, crying sound leaves him as his cock throbs inside of you. It throbs several times, each time filling you with a rush of hot cum that definitely needed to be spent. A satisfying and comfortable warmth fills you, so much so that you fear it will leak out. It feels thick inside you, slightly heavy; it's oddly satisfying to feel inside you. One of Kar'niss' hands moves behind him as he gently pulls you off of his cock and down on your bedroll once more. A sticky, white and gooey substance covers Kar'niss' hand once it's back in view, and he spreads it over your spent pussy. "Don't worry . . . it's only my webbing," he mutteres, taking note of your confused face. You twitch as Kar'niss pushes the strong webbing slightly into your core, plugging his cum inside of you. He lathers the rest over the opening of your pussy and looks satisfied. "There. . . Now it's sure to take. . ." Take . . . wait a minute! Take?! You didn't even think about that. . . was it possible? You couldn't ask now! You'd have to ask Gale later- Your thoughts were interrupted as Kar'niss tenderly kissed your forehead. "Thank you, my love . . . Rest easy, you're tired. . . I will protect you from harm, as your mate. . ." he whispers, and quietly leaves your tent. You momentarily wonder if now Kar'niss would keep you here forever. You knew what "mate" implied. . . Hopefully you didn't end up breaking his heart by the end of all this. . .

~ Bonus: "So first you lick a spider, and now you fucked one? . . . I'm starting to think you have some spider kink." "I was horny and stressed, Gale! And he was very endearing!" "You slept with a drider. A horny. . . drider. That is something that happened. . . Look, I know we're friends, but know that I am extremely worried about your decision making." ". . . Also I think he made me his mate-" "I- What- TAV!"

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cookiesupplier · 6 months

Text

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part One

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut (eventually), angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, and swearing. – potential more to be added at stories progression

summary: Ellie is lost in the world, homeless and has been out of the world for so long in her mind she has no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. When the perfect opportunity falls into her lap, she doesn’t want to pass it up.. Turns out though, it might be a little bit stranger than she ever expected. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: This first part was originally written as Reader/first person, but re-edited as Ellie/third person as its what's I'm used do if I missed anything please, feel free to let me know. Unbetaed, readers beware..

Warning, this is a slow burn... I scream at my computer with slow burns... so how well I will handle my own slow burn I have absolutely no idea... lol but as per my notes... I can't even promise Ellie will even meet Noah for um. a. few. parts. Don't lynch me.

ALL COMMENTS ARE WELCOME. (my replies are broken I will reply via reblog to yours)

tags: Tags are open if anyone is interested.

The day Ellie sold her guitar was the beginning of the end. It had been all going down hill for a long time. Ellie knew, of course, she knew. The whole world knew it to be honest, it isn’t just her that was struggling but she had dropped out of college and had been picking up work wherever she could find it just to get by and pay rent. Ellie had even tried Only Fans, but not even taking off her clothes and videoing herself for strangers on the internet had gotten her the money she needed to keep her from the predicament that she was in now. Not being able to even pay her monthly phone bill had put a stop to uploading the videos and images to continuing getting money from Only Fans for the bill, she had tried to get around it, but trying to access the free wifi at the library had been nixed the moment the librarian saw exactly what she was doing.

Boy had Ellie been banned there so fast anyone would think steam was about to come out of the librarian’s ears.

She didn’t blame her for that, but a girl had to eat, and eventually, when she stopped uploading the little content she had managed to get to her account, the money that she had had coming in from her subscribers, had dried up very quickly, and then she had nothing to even scrounge for the slightest morsel of food. Ellie hadn’t eaten a decent meal in what felt like…

Screw what felt like. She hasn't had even a scrap of food that hasn’t been begged, stolen, or fished out of the garbage in weeks.

Months since it was anything but dollar packs of noodles. Dry unless Jake let her borrow his camp stove to cook them.. She always shared if he did. He brought the kettle camp stove, and she bought the noodles and they ate huddled under the overpass, pretending they weren’t homeless, down on their luck, beggars.. Bound to get chased away, or worse, the next time a cop patrol came riding by. Jake was a good egg though, he could get into a shelter so much easier than her, but he never went, always saying there was too much noise, too many people. He was a veteran with PTSD, he’d lost the lower half of one of his right leg last time he was on active duty, and she was always willing to listen to the story, even if she heard it every time they shared a pack of noodles.

It had been a few days.

The overpass.

Ellie wished she could say that actually sleeping here was a new development, but it had been where she had been calling home for some weeks now. There used to be a tent city in the park for so many like her, but then the council had decided that was an unlawful assembly and chased them out. Sadly in that chaos, Ellie had lost the, admittedly flimsy, tent covering that had kept her at the very least dry of the night. That had been a few weeks back. Now, the overpass was usually where she spent her nights.

If she was lucky.

That’s right, if she was lucky.

If she wasn’t, she would go out and look to find a park bench. The other option was possibly huddled up somewhere random in a shop stoop and praying to whatever deity out there, if there was any at all, and hoped that it didn’t rain, and she woke up before the shop owners got in and chased her away the next morning.

Not that it really mattered. She could never get properly warm anyway, despite the fact Ellie was wearing literally every layer of clothes that she hadn’t sold. She just couldn’t stay warm, and that cough she’d had for weeks now just didn’t want to go away. If she couldn’t afford a place to live, it wasn’t like she could afford the treatment the doctors said she needed. The free clinic was pointless. No, sorry, that was horrible of her to even think. No it wasn’t, It had a point, but so far the drugs they’d given her only seemed to help much for a short period of time, but at least they did help, for a little bit. Still, the cough was relentless, it always came back despite the fact she always tried to do what they told her. She tried everything she could to stay as dry, and as warm as she could. Unfortunately every time it came back, and it made sleeping extremely difficult when every night she woke up feeling like she was trying to cough up her lungs from her chest, barely able to breath. It felt like something was sitting on her chest.

Today, Ellie seemed to have dozed off mid afternoon, she didn’t remember doing it, but she must have with the way she awoke with a start this afternoon. She hadn’t even realized that she’d drifted off, damn she was so tired, it happened when her coughing got so bad that she couldn’t manage to sleep more than tiny cat naps.. Probably about time to go back to the free clinic and see if they could give her some more meds and get just a little bit of relief, even if it was only for another short time, anything was better than nothing.

Waking up coughing, she raised a gloved hand to her mouth.

It was instinct.

Who didn’t cover their mouth when they coughed?

However, the pressure in her chest, the ache, the pain in her throat, then the drops of blood that she spots on her fingers when she struggles to pull a breath in and drop her hand from her mouth as the coughing eases slightly.. And her stomach drops.

Fuck.

That isn’t good.

Definitely free clinic time.

“Hey, you okay?”

Looking up from her hand, Ellie’s fingers closing in a fist quick as she swallows looking to the frankly clean, neat, man with bright eyes, a kind smile, more than a few tattoos, blonde short hair and is squatting down to her level,

“Ye-”

Ellie’s voice was rough, her throat feeling like a cheese grater from the coughing, but clearing her throat a little bit gently she continued,

“Yea, just really tired, I’m probably just getting a cold.”

Liar. Bold faced liar. She sees the man smile a little more, glad he accepts the white lie. Least she hopes he does anyway.

“Best get you to the clinic then.. Here, have a sandwich until then, fill that belly, and when you go, maybe check this place out too, it’s right across the street, I have a buddy over there, I think he could help you. Ask for Nicholas. He’s one of the nicer ones, I promise.”

That smile was winning as he stood up and walked the way he came. Ellie saw it then, the truck he was walking towards, he came from a homeless shelter.

She didn’t recognize the name though, that was weird. Looking at the card, the writing was fuzzy, like her eyes weren’t working properly for a second, and, and then the words formed. Oh, there it went. Huh. It was an unemployment agency. That’s funny, she thought she’d been to every single one in the city, she didn’t recognize this one either. That was really strange, he wasn’t acting like he was new to the area. New people had this way about them, she'd noticed, very buddy buddy, trying to be everyone's best friend. Now this guy, yes he’d been nice, but then he’d left her with the sandwich, holding the card in her hand, slightly blood smeared from her fingers, and then gone back about his work.. Like he was an old hand at this.

Looking down at the card, Ellie sighed. Nicholas.

Well, she obviously needed to go to the clinic anyway right. Even if she had a strange feeling about it, Ellie tucked the card into her ratty jeans pocket and opened up the sandwich. She’d only eat half now and save the other half for tomorrow, for before she’d go and see if she could get in at the clinic.

Ellie had been waiting hours to get in at the clinic.

Just her luck. There were too many people and she had already this morning been waiting there for so long that she knew she would end up sleeping on the front stoop if she continued on trying to wait to see a doctor. No matter how many times she tried to get the nurses attention, there was always someone who was yelling louder than her, and not even when she had another coughing fit did that get her attention..

It was late afternoon by the time that Ellie was finally taking a time out from the chaos and a short break to get some fresh air by the door, just trying to breathe, that you spotted the friendly man from the day before.. Waving at you from the building across the road.. That was where he’d said the agency was, across the road.

He was waving her over.

Glancing back into the clinic, she’d be waiting here for hours still and she knew it, and she wasn't even sure the nurse had ever put her name on the list of patients despite already being here, for hours already. Signing in this morning had been the strangest thing, she’d set the intake form down, and yet, nothing.

Walking across the street towards the guy, he was still smiling..

“I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

So, he was that sure she’d come, strange. Swallowing, her throat hurt so much from all the coughing, but she didn’t want to complain, not if she could get a job, any job right now would be better than nothing.

“Come on in, I’m Steven by the way, let’s find Nick, he’s the guy for you, I know it.”

Ellie followed him, she felt obliged to this time, not sure why, like she was being tugged along. The building wasn’t anything strange, just an office building.

“Ah, here we go, right though here.. Nicholas Ruffilo. He'll be able to help you.”

Well, here goes nothing. What did she have to lose right?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#bad omens #fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens band #original character #original female character #noah sebastian #nicholas ruffilo #bad omens au #angst #homelessness

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

coffee cart girl (pt3)

words: 2,703 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: I really appreciate the continued support--the comments, reblogs, likes, and asks have been so lovely! thank you :) part 1 is here, part 2 is here. if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list, please let me know warnings: none tag list: @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17 , @bob-the-tomato-senpai, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe

You’re gone from set for about a week.

Your sister visits first, unexpected, but you have a few days to take so you do. Sal doesn’t seem to care because they’ve got a replacement coffee girl to make rounds and you’d rather enjoy your time with your sibling uninterrupted. The moment you’re geared back to go to work, you come down with the flu—and it’s three days of fever, the sniffles, and sleeping a headache away.

By the time Monday rolls around again you’re brand new but almost feel slightly disoriented at being away from that amount of time. It takes a bit to get back into the groove of things, and the slight change in location doesn’t help. Moving to a larger set, it’s the carnival scene spread out amongst the tents and trailers tucked in the back of the lot. It’s quite a sight, actually, even a full working old-fashioned Ferris wheel where Colonel Parker will reign in Elvis on signing a deal with him.

You find yourself distracted by the lights and sounds, wondering if there will be a break in shooting where you can wander through, take a peek. Would be really cool to see.

“Welcome back, glad to see you’re not on your deathbed anymore.”

You smile lightly, turning to see Jillian hovering nearby. It is good to see her, she was one of the only people who messaged you to check in while you were sick. She’s a good friend. “I missed you too.”

Jillian hums, moving to sit down on a bench nearby as you fill last-call coffee orders. You both have been rather busy all day, lots of moving parts to scenes, to getting people ready, to delivering what’s being asked. You’re glad you’re finally able to talk…and that you, surprisingly, have not run into Austin today. Your brain keeps replaying the last time you saw him, even after days have gone by.

You can’t stop thinking about how abruptly you left his trailer—it's one of those things that seemingly gets worse every time you think about it, but maybe it wasn’t actually so bad when it happened. Feelings and emotions tend to warp reality until we hold the worst version of ourselves in our hands.

The sky is bleeding orange into pink as the sun begins to go down, making the carnival lights pop that much more against the backdrop.

“So…are you gonna tell me about it?”

You sigh evenly, glancing over at the redhead as you complete coffee orders. It’s so engrained into you that you can multitask—filling cups and glaring at Jillian.

“What?” She grins, “I waited until you were better before I asked.”

“How kind of you,” Deadpan, but she’s snickering and that pulls at the corners of your mouth. “Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit, okay? Austin isn’t inviting me, or anyone else for that matter, into his trailer to sit on his couch.” She pokes at your hip, making you jerk away from her. “So spill.”

And that’s what you almost do, spill the coffee you’ve just made. The thing is, you almost take her up on her offer—to divulge what happened, to tell her what you guys talked about, if only to highlight how much it isn’t that big of a deal. But no matter how the words spin, it’s going to be taken out of proportion. Just nature of the beast at this point.

“I brought him coffee; he played the guitar—we talked.” Cliff-notes, perfectly organized as if your heart isn’t beating out of your chest.

“What?” She screeches, grabbing your arm.

“Jillian!” You off-set her as best you can, thanking whoever’s watching out for you that the tray of coffee you’ve organized doesn’t accidently tumble onto your feet from your friend’s jerky movements.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” She laughs, eyes sparkling like a pond on a bright sunny day.

You are—there’s just…what’s the benefit of allowing yourself to fall freely into emotions like that. Over a few interactions? Yeah, you talk and swap personal anecdotes and you heard him sing, so what? A bunch of people on set have. You’re not about to walk around here like you’re somehow special or better than anyone else.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re a tiny bit afraid of how much those conversations have meant…what if that’s all they are? Passing exchanges?

“Oh,” Jillian says quietly after a few moments, “You are freaking out about this.”

You sigh, glancing around to make sure they’re alone. “I just don’t think there’s any use in getting my hopes up.” A crush on Austin Butler makes a lot of sense—how could you not? Pushing physical looks aside, there’s plenty more to write home about.

Jillian smooths your hair down, brushing it over your shoulder with a small smile, “It’s okay to like him, you know. Just enjoy the day-to-day while it lasts?”

You give her a soft smile back, nodding before you pick up the tray of coffee. Your feelings for Austin aren’t what’s concerning you.

Not exactly, anyways.

Bringing the empty tray to your chest, you turn on your heel to navigate through the trailers to sit back on the picnic table and work on your script for a little. It’s going to be a late night on set, maybe even into the early morning. You’re only scheduled for the next hour, so you figure taking it easy and seeing if anyone needs anything else should work out. Easing back into the week is just what you need.

Turning the corner, you bump right into someone—and really at this point it should come to no surprise that the universe is fucking with you.

“Hey,” Austin smiles down at you, his hand catching your elbow to steady your backstep. “Was beginnin’ to think you started working for a different film set.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips and you shake your head, “Just had some time off—my sister came to visit and then I was sick.”

“Glad to see you’re better,” His eyes flicker over you, almost an air of concern. It’s then you realize he hasn’t let go of your elbow, the slightest of pressure from his fingers against your skin.

“I noticed you weren’t on any of my coffee orders today. You start drinkin’ tea or something? Strictly Starbucks?”

He grins, his hand moving to run a hand through his hair. You swear you can still feel the heat of his fingertips—you concentrate on something else; the Elvis look he’s pulling off today. The white slacks and black lace shirt, it’s utterly ridiculous how good he looks. It almost feels like you’re staring but…it’s hard to glance away, so much to take in. These clothes were made for him to wear, you’re sure no other actor could pull this role off.

“The girl doin’ the runs, Sarah, she’s nice but she constantly got my order wrong.”

You smile a little—seems like Austin would be considerate about that though, no Frank-sized tantrums. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head when looking up at him, “Thought you were into the whole ‘surprise me’ thing.”

“I only let one coffee girl do that.”

You can’t help but grin because that response is smooth—and yet, you hope he means it. It’s not often that someone else makes you feel utterly speechless, actually it’s usually the exact opposite. You’re a talker, even when nervous, so the fact that you’re searching for words right now is so unlike you.

“So it’s uh, it was mostly the carnival scenes today?”

Austin smiles a little at the shift in conversation, licking his lips as he sticks his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” He glances past you towards the set, “Ferris wheel got stuck though in the middle of shooting, so they had to reset.”

“It got stuck?” A laugh, “You weren’t on it, were you?”

His eyes are bright as he’s smiling, taking a step towards you as he talks, “Oh yeah, I was on it with Tom, they went to shift us into the air and we got about halfway and then just—dead stop.”

You cover your mouth with one of your hands, really trying not to laugh at this predicament because you’re sure it was nerve wracking to say the least. “You scared of heights?”

He pauses a moment as if to weigh that question, “Well I wasn’t before that.”

You tip your head back a little as a small fit of giggles escape, almost can’t help it, cheeks warming from amusement. You can just picture it—the Ferris wheel creaking to a stop with Tom and Austin completely clueless and confused, in costume, waiting to figure out if the crew could get the machine to work again or if they’d need some sort of fire department to come help.

“S’not funny, I could still be stuck up there,” Austin’s smiling though, shaking his head. “Or the whole thing coulda plummeted.”

You cover your mouth more completely this time before nodding because right, totally not funny. Agree. You look up at him as he stands in front of you, that smile still fixed on his face and you realize…how close he’s really hovering and just how blue his eyes are. There are flecks of yellow there in the iris that you don’t think you would have noticed otherwise.

You realize you’re holding your breath when your lungs start to burn a little, your eyes grazing along the fullness of his lower lip—

“There’s a hall of mirrors too, right?”

Austin blinks, instantly thrown off by your question. If you could kick yourself, you would—it’s as if your tongue has a mind of its own, shifting the charged moment to a question thrown out into the air. He clears his throat, pulling back slightly and—are his cheeks the softest of pinks or is that trick of the light?

“Yeah, there’s a hall of mirrors.” He motions with his chin past the Ferris wheel and then, “You wanna go through it?”

You make a psh sound with your lips because, “Absolutely not.” You’ve seen far too many horror movies start out that way, set design or not.

Austin laughs, reaching down for your hand—he’s apparently not taking no for an answer, “C’mon.”

“Austin.”

Ignoring you, he continues forward, his hand warm and solid against your own. His tug is insistent but not too fast paced, your eyes glancing over the muscles flexing in his arms as you weave through the trailers to reach the hall of mirrors. It’s late, seems like most the crew has packed up for the night. Some of the celebrities, you’ve learned from past sets, sleep in their trailers with late nights and early calls because it’s easier than going home.

You wonder if Austin ever does that—he might have been heading back to his trailer to change out of his Elvis look…though you’re not exactly complaining that you bumped into him this way.

Approaching the hall of mirrors, Austin tugs open the door, the inside illuminated in bright colors—an archway of orange with fat bulbs, the walls an iridescent blue, silver metal holding the mirrors into place. You crinkle your nose, already shaking your head…this seems like a bad idea. It’s so ironic because you’re the first one in line for a haunted house come Halloween, loving the chance to be scared in a safe setting, holding onto someone’s hand or arm as you work your way through the maze.

This…feels different though, for whatever reason.

Probably has everything to do with Austin wearing that shirt and it being reflected to you in a hundred different mirrors.

The door gently closes behind and you wonder, briefly, what the trick is for filming in a space like this. With all the reflective surfaces, it’s got to be tricky. Austin lets go of your hand as you explore the space, seeing your reflection repeated in the walls—endless. The mirrors twist and turn, making it feel like it’s somehow a small and large space all at the same time. There has to be multiple exits to this thing, it being a set piece, it’s not real. They can’t really get lost in here…can they?

And yet, you feel some sort of silly apprehension grip your stomach when you pause to look around a corner, as if something is going to jump out at you. Which makes no sense—

It doesn’t take long for Austin to become aware of your uneasiness. Between one lingering gaze around the edge of a mirror to another small alcove, he comes up beside you and grabs your hips briefly with an exclaimed rah noise.

You nearly jump right out of your goddamn skin. You whirl on him and smack his chest and he’s laughing, a full body one that somehow makes his eyes a brighter blue and his cheeks the softest of pinks. It’s then you notice that his shirt is decidedly unbuttoned halfway, a damn good look.

“You asshole!” You shout but you’re laughing, going in for another smack.

Austin catches your wrist with his hand, gently squeezing. “Couldn’t resist.”

You let out a long breath, the grip he has on you relaxes until your palm rests against his chest, fingers curling against black lace. Your heartbeat begins to normalize, no longer throbbing against your eardrums and you shake your head fondly,

“So annoying.” You mutter, mostly to yourself.

But because of your proximity, Austin hears you, his eyebrows arching up in amusement. “Oh so now I’m annoying.”

He’s standing there, black hair swept back except for two strands over his forehead, eyes a sharp blue in this light, skin warm underneath her fingertips, sandalwood mixed with something else wafting to your nose. You can feel the flutter of his heartbeat along your fingertips, making your stomach flutter all the way up into your chest.

So unfair, so easily handsome, completely knocking down all the walls and defenses you naturally put up to protect yourself.

You look up at him, a cheeky smirk on your lips. “Pretty sure it’s a consistent thing.”

One moment there’s this short laugh, mostly a breath through Austin’s nose, and then he’s leaning forward and down and kissing you. It’s quick, just a warm press of his lips, his hand falling from holding yours on his chest to rest against one of the mirrors behind you.

You blink, taking a step back and when you look up at him again—his lips are fuller, almost a bit pinker than before, eyes lidded as his breathing seems slightly uneven. You can understand, your heart feels like it’s about to pound out of your chest, echoing against your eardrums. Did that…really just happen?

He misreads your expression, “Sorry—I—”

The last thing you want him to do is apologize for that, to regret it. You shake your head lightly, “Did you mean it?”

It wasn’t a mistake, right? He feels it too, there’s something on both sides. It might not make complete sense and you might not have the words to describe it, but it’s there: mutual attraction, the spark, the questioning and lingering sensation that there’s something else there, something more, just out of reach.

Austin considers you for a moment, moving his other hand to cup your cheek. He runs his thumb along your lower lip, your heartrate racing in the pulse of your neck. You can almost taste the saltiness of his skin—

“I meant it.” He says and no sooner do the words leave his mouth are you pressing yourself up onto your toes.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, drawing him down into another kiss. As one hand seems to gather up the fabric of his lace shirt between your fingers, the other rests along the nape of his neck, keeping him close. His hands are equally busy, one along your spine while the other entangles itself in your hair.

Even though your eyes are closed as you kiss, you can feel the mirrors that surround you, reminding you of exactly what you’re doing.

But those consequences are for tomorrow.

Thank you so much for reading! More to come :)

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg #ccg series #mas

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sidekick-hero · 10 days

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✨WIP Weekend✨

I was tagged by the super talented @pearynice (welcome back to the writing game and congrats to finishing your RBB 🫶), thank you so much!

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

I actually have to prioritize my Summer Exchange and the steddie big bang because deadlines are looming on the horizon, but I still couldn't stop myself from starting a fic for sub eddie week I'm desperately trying to finish right now.

Summer Exchange (so sorry I can't give anything away about it)

Steddie Big Bang (same here, so sorry)

virgin Eddie for sub eddie week

End of Beginning

Hold me like a grudge

Snippet from my untitled Virgin Eddie fic for sub eddie week under the cut (the same fic as teased here)

Steve took Eddie's hands in his own, his touch gentle yet firm. "Eddie, I want you to know that we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," he said softly, wanting to reassure him.

Eddie met his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and desire. "I trust you, Steve," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. Steve had no idea how Eddie could trust him so easily after just meeting him, but he vowed to do right by him and not betray the trust placed in him.

With a gentle smile, Steve leaned in to kiss Eddie again, his lips meeting Eddie's with a tender urgency. This time Steve took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into the wet heat of Eddie's mouth, gently coaxing Eddie to join him in exploring each other.

The first tentative touch of Eddie's tongue to his own sent sparks of electricity through him and he would have been embarrassed by the moan that fell from his lips had it not been for the almost violent shudder that went through Eddie at the simple touch. When their lips parted, Steve glanced at the other man and found him looking tense, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs, and suddenly his reaction made sense.

"Baby, you can touch me. Don't hold back, I want you to show me how good I make you feel."

Closing his eyes with a pained expression, Eddie sighed deeply, defeated. "I feel like I don't know how. I don't want to mess it up. I mean, you must be used to incredible sex and then there's me, probably accidentally pinching you or something."

"Eddie," Steve said, wrapping his own hands around Eddie's clenched ones, "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you'll never learn if you don't try. It's like riding a bike. You can't learn it in theory, you have to get on it and ride it." And because Steve worried that might have been a little harsh, he added: "I'm your training wheels, and after tonight you can upgrade to a bike without them."

Uncurling Eddie's hands and intertwining their fingers, Steve nudged their shoulders together. "Soooo. Wanna go for a ride?"

Eddie's lips twitched into a small smile at Steve's analogy, and some of the tension seemed to ease from his shoulders. "Okay, maybe I can give it a try," he said, his voice uncertain but determined.

Tagging with no pressure but gentle forehead kisses: @hbyrde36, @starryeyedjanai, @steddieas-shegoes, @thefreakandthehair, @runninriot,

@acasualcrossfade

#steddie #steddie fanfic #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #wip weekend #my writing #(fair warning I might need some time to get to asks but every encouragement is appreciated 💜)

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queenie-blackthorn · 6 months

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FINALLY, ive finished 25% of exile, the second book in the kotlc series. here are some thoughts i had :)

tags: @aylin-hijabi, @that-multi-fandom-hijabi, @tastetherainbow290, @nerdy-girl3791 (im tagging everyone who asked to be tagged in my notes for book one, but lmk if you wanna be tagged too / dont wanna be tagged anymore)

first off, why are second books in a series always the ones that take the most time / are harder to start? ig it could be that we've already established the worldbuilding n main characters, but its still that dragging stage between *where you already know mostly everything in the universe* and *where the climax builds up in anticipation of the "final battle" or the beginning of the third act, usually*. nothing to do w the book itself, just an observation

second off, alicorns are so much more important than being just "another species to save", im sure of it. theres wayyy too much of the council getting involved n talk abt how alicorns are sooo important. to anyone whos read percy jackson it kinda reminds me of the ophiortaurus (bessie) from sea of monsters, who seemed to be a recurring animal side character who turned out to have a lot of significance to the very universe they were in. im expecting smth similar, why else would everyone go to such lengths to ensure alicorns dont go extinct? or maybe im overthinking it lmao but what gives it away is the heckses literally tryna kidnap silveny-

speaking of the heckses, who the fuck tries to steal an alicorn. stinas parents are the whiniest bitches ive ever seen, and im a fifteen year old girl. like cmon ive seen some drama queens over the years, but those two- also, fucking stina. i mentioned before that i hope to see some character development w her, so shes not just the boring one-dimensional mean girl thats prevalent in literally every piece of media thats come out since mean girls w regina george. clearly not yet, tho, but im waiting on it (if it does not happen i will be majorly disappointed)

also, delving into theories now. its kinda far-fetched, but, was brant w the black swan ? i mean, it would add up pretty decently. it would explain why his guilt for jolies death runs so deeply (since grady rlly rlly seems to believe that the black swan killed her) because he would be with the literal organization that killed her. it would also explain reeeeaaaaalllllyyyy well why he recognized sophie. the fact that he knew her was wayy too emphasized to mean nothing. idk JUST A THEORY, its not based off of anything other than it would fit nicely w everything else.

but also if grady is so adamant that it was the black swan, and (hypothetically) brant is w the black swan, then would it be improbable to assume that he killed her? which would explain the guilt even MORE. but then again, he does seem to love her, so that last part is added very tentatively. (maybe he killed her by accident... but then would the note to grady three days before her death just be a coincidence? im sure that has some deeper meaning.)

maybe it wasnt the black swan who sent those notes to grady...

to end on a funnier note: alicorn poop. sophie faceplanted into alicorn poop. it happens to all main characters, it always has to be someone walking in at the worst moment. i thought id be the vackers w keefe who show up n embarass her, but who better than the council to get humiliated in front of ? i dont hate sophie i just laugh at her pain

i think thats all for the 25% mark, im gonna keep reading today. im gonna go to my grandmas house so maybe i can get a couple hundred pages in !!!

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superhaught · 26 days

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Subterfuge

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Shadowheart x Walker (OC/Tav)

Warnings: nudity but no smut

Word Count: 3700, Part 1/?

A/N: I've had this bad boy collecting dust for quite some time now. It was originally part of a longer piece but I wanted to just post this chunk. Walker is my first Tav. He's a half wood-elf Paladin. He's trans. He's everything to me. You'll also notice me provide some reasoning for always re-classing Shadowheart as a tempest cleric, lol. Anyhoo, please enjoy and lmk if ya wanna see more Shadowheart love!

Tagging @gothimp and @optiwashere in the hopes that y'all will enjoy this?? <3

Thunder rumbled through the area as heavy winds battered the walls of Shadowheart’s tent. This was the first storm they have had to weather on their journey and she was kept awake by the sounds.

She was never one to be fearful of storms, but this particular storm felt imposing. Perhaps it was made worse by being separated from the elements with only a waxed canvas tent rather than the security of a building. While storms were in the domain of other gods, she always felt that the dark clouds were sent by her Lady Shar. She tried to channel that into her magic by calling upon clouds of darkness to send her Lady’s rage in the form of thunder, lightning and ice upon her enemies.

It was in this moment of not being able to find rest when Shadowheart realized that their groups’ leader was likely still outside, unsheltered and keeping watch through the brutal storm. She sighed and mumbled out loud, “that idiot,” before wrapping a blanket around herself and peeking her head out of her tent.

She was, unfortunately, right. Walker sat on the log by where they’d normally have a fire burning, but instead he was staring at a steaming pile of coal while wrapped in a drenched wool blanket. She could see that he was shivering though he would likely never admit it.

She called out to him, “You donkey! Get inside!”

He whipped around and faced her, teeth chattering and curly hair dripping wet, “I can’t! I’m keeping watch!”

“We will survive one night without your vigilance, if you don’t come inside you’ll get sick at the very least and we can’t have that, or worse. Come on!”

He stared at her indignantly.

“Come here.” She demanded.

Walker faced an internal battle between keeping watch as was his duty, and following orders like the good soldier he was. He eventually decided on the latter, “Fine. I see no reason to argue with you.” He began to stand up.

“Good. That will serve you well in the future.” Shadowheart held the tent flaps open for him when he approached and then closed the tent back up tightly once he was inside. He had to duck slightly to fit his taller frame comfortably in the space of the tent.

Up close, Shadowheart could clearly see the bluish tint to his lips and that he had been soaked through all of his clothing.

“Strip.” She instructed simply.

“What?” A flush appeared on his cheeks as he gave her a surprised expression.

She rolled her eyes, “It’s not like that you fool, you can’t sleep in sopping wet clothes. Come on now.” She began to push the blanket off of his shoulders and let it fall in a wet heap to the floor.

He nodded while shivering and began to shyly lift his shirt off.

Shadowheart had meant what she said of course, she had no intention of exploring sensuality with him in this moment, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t indulge in a few glances at his body while he undressed in front of her.

Her eyes followed the bottom hem of his shirt as he lifted it and exposed his abdomen. He was incredibly toned and honestly, too attractive for his own good. And, she wasn’t ignorant to how his endless humility only made him more desirable.

His shirt came off and he added it to the blanket in a wet pile.

Shadowheart cast a simple cantrip, producing a wisp of flame in the palm of her hand in an effort to warm the air in the tent.

Walker undid the laces of his trousers and pulled them down, letting the wet fabric pool around his ankles before stepping out of them. He then bent down and gathered all of his wet garments in his arms and put them somewhere out of the way. He let out a sigh as he started to warm up.

Shadowheart doused the flame in her hand and then moved tentatively to place her hand on his upper arm. He shuddered at the warmth that her palm retained from the spell and at the touch she gave him.

Walker's eyes fell closed as he unconsciously leaned a little closer to her, “You’re so… warm…” he mumbled.

“Come here, then.”

Shadowheart reached for him more definitively now, pulling him fully into an embrace. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper as she held him close and he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.

His skin was freezing. She considered her next words carefully, trying to strike a balance between genuine concern for his safety and a little bit of interest, “You know,” she offered, “hypothermia is best avoided by skin-to-skin contact.”

Walker did not respond for a few seconds as his mind raced to understand this enigma of a woman. Then he just sputtered, “I… I…”

“Calm yourself. It’s only an offer. Would you like to take me up on it?”

All Walker could do was nod sheepishly.

Shadowheart smirked but hid it from him. She let go of him and then began to undress herself as well. She sloughed her leather top off of her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She relished in the feeling of having Walker’s eyes so obviously on her exposed torso.

She gave him a sly smile and then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and underwear and slid them down her legs before kicking everything aside. She watched as Walker’s gaze followed her movements.

“Like what you see, paladin?”

Her words startled him and he looked back up to her eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You can say so,” she continued, “I don’t mind.”

He nodded, “You’re… gorgeous.”

She stepped forward and placed her hand on his abs, sliding her fingers down over his muscles, following the trail of hair that graced the center of his taut stomach. He gasped and shuddered as her delicate fingers danced over a hip bone and teased as the very edge of his briefs.

“You’re sweet… and not so bad to look at, yourself.”

“Shadowheart…” he breathed, “Wha-… what is this?”

She looked up at him, “Whatever you want it to be, Walker.”

She watched the shy, nervousness leave him in an instant and the sweet thing standing before her was suddenly the confident man she had come to know in battle.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded in response. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her body close to his and captured her lips in a kiss. It wasn’t the soft and chaste kiss they had already shared, but it wasn’t hard either. It communicated a deeper want without being overpowering.

Gods how she loved when he acted on the things that he really wanted.

The paladin had done nothing but surprise her since they first met. When he saved her life on the Mindflayer nautiloid she expected that he was good. She wasn’t wrong about that at all. He was, first and foremost, a good man. Sometimes to an irritating degree. He had insisted that they help the Tiefling refugees in the grove. Insisted that they involve themselves in the local hags’ business to rescue that girl, Mayrina. Insisted on rescuing Volo from a fate he simply brought onto himself. Insisted on talking with every animal they came across. And yet, she couldn’t complain because his focus on their larger goal of finding a solution to their tadpole problem never wavered.

As a result of his good-nature, she expected him to, at the least, be wary of her faith in Shar once he knew the truth, and at worst, outright condemn her for it. But his reaction was neither. Where some of the other companions looked at her with doubt, he only expressed kindness and genuine curiosity. He asked her questions and graciously allowed her to correct any misunderstandings he had. He never pried. He never judged. He never insulted. It became easy to trust him after that, which surprised her.

He surprised her in a myriad of ways as they dove into the goblin encampment. He understood her discomfort with being in a temple to Selune despite the fact that untold years had passed since actual worship of the Moonwitch took place there. She watched as the man got down on his knees and groveled to a filthy goblin just so that he could deftly sneak a lightly magical ring off of the creatures’ toe by kissing it. She watched as he stripped his armor off and submitted to a religious beating from a priest of Loviatar for truly, no good reason. There was a moment when she wondered if he only did it because he thought she might enjoy the spectacle, but she dropped that foolish notion from her mind quickly, surely he wouldn’t.

She used the tadpole connection to share a memory with him. Her only memory. The one thing she had left, wherein she was nothing more than a scared and vulnerable little girl. She didn’t know why exactly she shared it with him, she just felt… compelled somehow. She knew that he would be kind and honestly, she just felt like she needed that. When the playback of the memory ended, he took her hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze and thanked her for sharing, while giving her that sweet smile and an unspoken but nonetheless understood, “I’ve got you.”

It was then that Shadowheart knew it would be hard, impossible even, to escape her attraction to him.

But even with all of that, she expected him to fall for someone like Karlach or Wyll. Someone kind and soft, like him. But he surprised her in that regard, too. He had shared a bottle of wine with her one night and he kissed her for the first time. He kissed her. She was as shocked as she was elated, but she expected him to regret it the following morning. He didn’t. He just looked at her with those puppy dog eyes of his and said that he wanted more with her in the future. And who was she to deny such a kind request from their heroic leader?

Sometime in between then and now, the most shocking thing of all occurred. The paladin broke his oath. Shadowheart didn’t catch when or how it happened, but one morning he awoke as an Oathbreaker and although she had a million questions for him, they hadn’t talked about it. He hadn’t changed, really. He was still the same, good man. Still a beacon of light and hope. Still respectful of life and nature, just a little… off. He offered a little less healing and a little more violence. He had something darker at his disposal, but he was still him. If he had simply made a mistake along the way in all of the chaos they were up against, she wondered why he wouldn’t just atone and immediately retake his oath. If something deeper had genuinely changed for him, like no longer aligning with the ideals of his oath, she expected to see evidence of that, but she never did. Regardless, she didn’t feel like it was her place to ask and she felt that he would tell her if he wanted to. Not knowing gnawed at her all the same, though.

But now, here she was, naked in her tent, kissing this beautiful and confusing man, wondering why this attraction she felt was all-consuming and hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t change his mind about her.

His hands moved upwards to hold her face. He kissed her more and more and she felt herself melting in his grasp. The storm outside and his touch clouded her senses such that any thoughts and anxieties left her behind. She could only feel his impossibly soft lips and his gentle, yet battle-hardened hands. She could only feel his pulse throbbing in his neck and his shiver as she traced the contours of his chest with her index finger. She could only feel him pull her closer and bury his fingers into her hair.

He surprised her again as he effortlessly picked her up and then laid her down on the bedroll, hovering over top of her as he continued to kiss her lips. She would have given herself freely to him that night but he never took more. He only pressed his lips to hers in an incomprehensible number of sweet, adoring and reverent kisses, until he finally opened his eyes again and stared at her for a minute while catching his breath.

“That… you’re incredible…” he said.

She smiled, “Are you feeling warmer, now?”

He chuckled and nodded, “Yes, very. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

His cheeks flushed. He was back to being awkward and not knowing what to do next. She decided to save him from himself and said, “Come here, silly,” offering her arms out.

He nodded and laid down and embraced her strongly. They got comfortable beneath the blankets and snuggled. Shadowheart naturally found herself resting her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. Her heart just about burst when he placed a tender kiss on her forehead as he drifted off to sleep. This night was sweet and intimate and unlike anything she ever dreamed of experiencing in her life.

She almost missed it. A poorly timed rumble of thunder outside obscured part of his sleepy, mumbled confession. But once she processed the words he had uttered, she felt a vice grip her heart.

“I love you.” He had said. Quiet, half-asleep, whispered against her head.

Shadowheart’s mind raced. It was so soon. Too soon. Less than two tendays of even knowing each other. He barely knew anything about her, how could he so easily say such a thing?

She didn’t have to respond. He wouldn’t expect a response. It would be easy to pretend that she hadn’t heard him at all. The words can disappear into the night, no harm no foul.

Her attraction to him was clear. She even felt affection, care, for him. She liked how good he was. She liked his kindness. His strength. But love? Did she love him?

A crack of lightning lit the sky and the wound on her hand flared with searing pain. Shar. There she was. Using pain instead of words to make her point clear. Shadowheart tried her best to understand. She really did. That could not be denied. The proper conclusion was that the physical pain she felt now was a reminder of the emotional pain she’d feel later if she fostered this attachment any further. Exchanged glances were fine. Kisses in the night were fine. Even sex would be fine so long as it was meaningless. But anything more? Dangerous. Undoubtedly.

Shadowheart stared at the ceiling of her tent and tried not to stir so that she wouldn’t wake him. She needed him. He kept her safe. He would help her complete her mission. He was the only true ally she had. The only one she trusted. So she couldn’t just walk away. But she didn’t want to lose this either. She didn’t want to break his heart by saying, “I think we’ve gotten too close, let’s just keep focus on the mission.” That would be a betrayal to herself, a lie.

The wound seared again. She bit her lip hard to stifle the cry of pain that threatened to escape. If he knew how she was hurting over him, he would feel so guilty.

She could make this work, she thought. Subterfuge. Stealth. Stolen affections with this man wouldn’t hurt. Her mind would soon be occupied by learning more about the Dark Justiciar presence in this area, anyways. Lady Shar could indulge Shadowheart having someone to share a tent with for companionship when the rest of her, almost all of her, was so devoted to serving the Dark Lady. It would work. It would be okay.

She made a silent vow then, that if she was ever capable of giving and receiving love, it would be with him. She would never let him go, no matter how badly it hurt. The pain she could take, but though she was loath to admit it, she didn’t know that she would ever be able to bear the loss of him. Not after knowing what having him felt like.

Shadowheart finally let her eyes close as she snuggled in closer to Walker. With a few deep breaths, the pain was put away in a box somewhere in the back of her mind where she could ignore it. His scent. His heartbeat. His soft skin. All of that felt so, so much stronger than the pain.

She woke to soft kisses peppering her cheeks. For a minute, she just relished in it while pretending to still be asleep so that he wouldn’t stop so soon, but then his lips drifted closer to her ear and started to kiss along the edge of it and it tickled and felt amazing and over stimulating and she couldn’t help but squirm and giggle and she gasped, “Careful! Sensitive ears!”

He just smiled and whispered to her, “I know…”

She rolled over and cuddled into him and he started to massage her neck and back without her even asking for it and she immediately melted. She let out a long sigh and said, “Lady of Sorrows guide me… gods… what did I do to deserve that?”

“Nothing at all, love. You shall not need to do anything to deserve my affections.”

There was that word again. Now a pet name. The closeness. The tenderness. The love. It was all getting dangerously close to being too much for her to handle. She wanted it… gods she wanted it… but the doubt was in whether she really could get away with having it.

“Walker…” she began.

“Yes?” His morning voice was like the finest wine she could imagine. It was deep and rich. She wanted to drown in that voice. It was far too easy for him to knock her legs out from under her. That’s why it was so risky, she realized. If he ever came all the way between her and Shar…

No. She couldn’t think like that. Not now.

“Nothing. Nevermind. Just… keep touching me like that.”

Their morning in the tent somehow simultaneously felt like it lasted multiple, blissful years, and less than a second.

The shape of a one-horned Tiefling materialized outside and called out, “Hey Shads, the suns up already! Dontcha gotta commune or whatever? Also, we don’t know where Walker is, have you seen him?”

Walker was about to announce his presence when Shadowheart quickly put a finger over his lips to shush him and said, “I’ll be right out, Karlach. And, I’m sure he’s around, probably took cover somewhere nearby from the storm last night.”

Walker turned and looked at her with a confused expression as Karlach's sliouette shrugged and walked away.

“I’m not ashamed,” Shadowheart whispered, “I just don’t want the whole camp to get the wrong idea about the time we’re spending together. Is that okay?”

Walker nodded and whispered back, “Okay.”

“Also, they’re all idiots if they haven’t noticed your pile of clothes outside the tent yet. But, if they have noticed and they’re just teasing, I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

He nodded again. She didn’t know if she was making sense to him, but she appreciated that he went along with it nonetheless. She didn’t know if she was making much sense to herself, either. She just knew that she wasn’t ready to face the reactions of everyone else to their… coupling? Their courtship? She didn’t even know what to call it. But she felt that the more people who knew, the realer it became, and the more likely it would be that she’d have to put an end to it lest her Lady deem it to be too much of a distraction. For now, this was just for them and the four walls of her tent. She prayed that Walker could sense that without her needing to say it.

Walker kissed her softly one last time and then slipped out of the tent easily enough. Everyone was gathered around the campfire enjoying breakfast so they didn’t notice him quietly get new clothes from the storage chest then dart into the treeline to get redressed before making a big show of coming back to the camp, acting like he had slept in the woods.

Shadowheart had begun her morning prayers by then but she couldn’t help opening one eye slightly when she heard his voice again as he joined the others by the fire. She giggled to herself at his performance and watched as he fixed two plates of food.

When he stood up and began to walk back to her, she sealed both eyes shut again while he quietly set the second plate of food down on the stool next to her. This had become part of his routine every day. She prayed, and he brought her breakfast while the food was still hot, even going to lengths to cover the plate with a silver lid that he found somewhere along the road.

This time though, he added something new to the procedure. He stood in front of her and leaned down, placing a kiss on the top of her head, before walking away.

She almost cried. She could have.

But she bit down on her lip and batted away the pain in her hand and continued her prayers.

Blessed Nightsinger, witness our adoration.

He had kissed her like she was something to be adored.

See how we serve you, only you.

He was so gentle…

We have emptied our hearts of falsehoods.

I don’t love him. I don’t love him.

We have vanquished your foes.

He could light the darkest night… erase every shadow…

In darkness, we see your truth. Embrace us, your loyal warriors.

Please, Lady of Sorrows… please… embrace me… I have only ever served you…

Cloak us in your shadow. Guide us to your victory.

Just don’t make me choose…

Shar's will shall be done. As sure as night will fall.

#shadowheart #shadowheart fanfiction #shadowheart x walker (oc/tav)#shadowheart x tav #shadowheart bg3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #oc: walker #cleric x paladin #cleric of shar #shadowheart fluff #shadowheart angst #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing

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scribblecake · 8 months

Text

Gentle Lights Ch) 3

Something short and sweet(?) bc I'm fading fast and needs a sleeb. The author is very tired. She is eepy. The author has had a very long day of writting sins and wants to take just a small sleep. She eeby and neebies to sleebie. audor sleepy and need bed by time. the ator is currently experiencing critical levels of being a sleehjy little guy and needs to go to beb. she is retired and needs to slep. just a little sleejing time as a treat.

TW: Idk how to write fluff... or dialogue...

~***~

“Izogie!”

Warm arms wrapped around her. The scent of honey and oil greeted Izogie as pure elation coaxed tears to her eyes. Oh to be hugged again! To feel something welcoming and familiar!

“We thought you were gone forever!” Nawi sniffed before being overcome with hiccuping sobs. Tentatively, Izogie lifted an arm and shakily wrapped it around her young sister. The warrior did her best to comfort Nawi and fight off sobs herself.

But the tears were all too eager to fall. They stung at her eyes before streaming down and scorching her cheeks. Izogie felt more hands on her shoulders, they pulled upwards. Her limited view of the world shifted as her body was propped upright with Nawi still clinging to her.

Two other figures hovered over Izogie and Amenza shifted into focus. She wordlessly pressed a clay cup to the warrior's lips. Water! Cool, quenching water! It greeted Izogie’s system like a storm in the dry season.

Liquid life trickled down her throat, bringing strength to withered limbs. Izogie gulped it down greedily and it was gone far too soon. Cracked lips parted to voice displeasure but a jug lifted to her thisting mouth quickly dispelled any protests.

After Izogie had drunk her fill, two more sets of arms encased her. The solid embrace of Nanisca and the welcoming tenderness of Amenza breathed strength into Izogie’s sore body. They stayed that way for a time. Tears, sobs and relieved murmurs were exchanged in the quiet moment. However; Nanisca was the first to break away.

“You never cease to exceed what is expected of you. I just wish you’d stop terrifying me in the process.” She chuckled. Amenza shook her head fondly at the comment, playfully smacking Nanisca’s arm.

“Behave!”

“W-we’re so happy to have you home! The palace was horrible and empty without you here!” Nawi cried as she tightened her hold on Izogie. The warrior grimaced when she felt a sharp twinge of pain in her chest and stomach. This did not go unnoticed by her friend who was quick to move away, but only just. She was still practically glued to the warrior’s side.

“Eh? What are those tears for? Just wait and see! When I heal, I’ll really give you something to cry about! You won’t miss me so much after a ten mile run.” Izogie rasped mischievously. Her words made the young soldier gasp and her commanders snicker.

Amenza hummed as a cheeky grin curled her lips. “Bold words for someone who could barely move, not even a few minutes ago.”

Laughter rippled through the room and they settled into relaxed chatter, briefing the soldier on what she had missed. Izogie learned that after she lost consciousness and contact with Nawi, Nanisca had returned, against the king’s wishes, to retrieve them.

She sat awestruck as they recounted how they had led an additional rebellion and burned The Trade to ash. Izogie smiled widely at the lively narration of their triumphant return. She nearly doubled over laughing at how Nanisca snatched the title of The Woman King right from under Shante.

The more she listened, the more her mind and heart relaxed. The soldier let the familiar voices scrub away any lingering burden of worry and fear. She finally felt safe, no longer adrift in uncertainty and pain. Izogie had found her way back to the ones that loved her. She had found her way back home.

~***~

Lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

@mybonafidefeelings @zeezeecave @shanas-baby

#izogie fanfiction #izogie #Izogie fluff #lashana lynch #the woman king #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fandom #fluff fic #fluff #new chapter #chapter update #chapter 3

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divinityiswasted · 1 year

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A Tentative Timeline of DOS2

Ok Divinity peeps here is a tentative timeline for the events surrounding DOS2. Please read more for notes, annotations, and takeaways:

Annotations (bc it's too much text for ALT):

1218 AD:

Lucian Ascends. Saves and adopts an infant Damien. Alexandar is not yet born.

1233:

Great War Starts.

Sometime in 1233:

Great War Ends.

Elven Forest Destroyed by Deathfog.

Lucian Declared Dead.

First Godwoken Killed by Lone Wolves.

1234:

First Lucian's Day.

First Voidwoken appears.

1235:

Alexandar takes over the Divine Order.

1236:

First Sourcerers are detained to Fort Joy.

1242:

Seven prisoners survive a shipwreck and land at Fort Joy. (Start of DOS2)

1244:

Fallen Heroes is said to take place.

Notes from Chart:

It is unclear if the war against the Black Ring in 1233 is the Great War or the Chaos War. I refer to it as the Great War but the text of the game and the lorebook uses both interchangeably

Most points (save Lucian's ascension and Fallen Heroes date) are taken from DOS2 files, DLC, Wiki, and Mortismal Gaming (all linked below). You can take the Fallen Heroes date with a grain of salt (bc who knows when/if it'll come out.) but I wanted to include it's date to further the idea that the DOS2 journey has space to take as long as you the player wants. A 2 week sprint around the Rivellon is just as valid as the 2 years.

You can use the comic as a resource for events note. But it doesn't specify years you're free to add them wherever they make the most sense to you.

Lucian is confirmed "dead" sometime in 1233 before 1234. This is bc the first celebration of Lucian's day and hope for new Divine.

The Great War is separated bc there's nothing that states how long it was.

Notes:

I have a file that contains basically every text seen in dos2 if you need it I've linked it HERE. (You can open this file on notepad, wordpad, or any richtext editor (not Microsoft Word mine crashed ;w;). You could probably edit out the content id tags to make searching easier but those help me realize we're on a new line of text so i keep them.) I basically input every year from 1218 - 1242 AD to check and see if there's any info in regards to things happening that year. I combined my sources with two timelines I had seen from both the wiki (HERE) and Mortismal Gaming (HERE).

Sidenote, shoutout to the wiki which also has a written copy of a lot of the notes in game (HERE). While I recommend people do runs to better understand the origin characters (for example did you know in an origin run Ifan cannot say whatever pisses off Paladin Hardwin to say that he won't have his comrades sacrifice be shoved in his face) and what's going on in their heads, the wiki does a fantastic job of catching some things you might not see on your run. You can't screenshot everything (my computer is calling me a hypocrite i can hear them) and the wiki is a great resource.

Takeaways and what we can do with this info:

I set out with this timeline to figure out one thing. Originally, I wanted to know what reasonable age Ifan could be at the start of DOS2. I got a range of numbers that'd make sense for how I view his character and then was able to make headcanons for every other character based on that. For me tacking down Ifan's life gives me some ideas on when Sebille was taken, how old the Red Prince may be, and when did Beast get exiled. It doesn't help as much for Lohse (who I just think is the baby of the group) and Fane (listen if i just say he's over a millennia old would you all take it?). And in order to do that I needed to know some of the basic events happening in and around DOS2.

I the goal in making this timeline going over the general happening around DOS2's start is to help anyone with fleshing out character HCs and worldbuilding. It helps me when writing to know what things exist in a universe so I add on what I like or highlight parts of history. (I also bc I wanted to give the origin characters a zodiac shhhhh.)

One of the shortcomings of this is that this timeline has a lot of room to expand bc a lot of documents are very human focused/written. For example there's info in the comics that shows there's tension between dwarves and lizards that isn't dated but you could tack one down. I wish Larian had tacked down one event per race (for example: let's say in 1231 the dwarves begin to express concern due to expansions of the ancient Empire into dwarven land) but alas it didn't happen. I also wanted to avoid adding any of my own HCs because the divinity journey is your own and I would like to provide a general resources for those that might need it. If this helps others build their own timeline and world then I did my job. I'll make a separate post maybe one day on each of the characters and the timelines I make for them but that's a problem for future me.

Please lemme know if this helps at all if there's things I can expound upon.

#dos2 #divinity original sin 2 #worldbuilding #headcanons #i hope this uploads right #and that it helps people #i need charts to understand things and break info down

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dre6ming · 2 years

Text

I wish to see the fatal flaw

“I stayed there” series~ part VI

Masterlist

𓆩Part V𓆪

𓆩Part VII𓆪

To be added to the tag list click here

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warnings: mature language, alcohol, cursing, sexual descriptions, fluff, angst…. Hope that’s all

Plot: you and your mom have never been on the same page, Austin being no different. What happens when he calls you drunk and you go to his rescue?

Word count: 4800

I wake up at the sound of my phone ringing. Angry I turn on my side and reach for the culprit of my unwanted wake up. Without looking at the caller I put the phone up to my ear. "What?" I ask in the most annoyed and sleep laced tone. "Don't what me, miss! I'm on my way, to your place, I'll be there in five." My moms voice has the same effect as having a tub of ice water dumped on your head. "Yes, yeah, sorry." The line goes silent before I get another word out.

Putting the phone down I look around for the first time. I'm not in my room. Fuck me. I'm still in the tent from last night. I feel asleep here. Fuck. I feel tears prick my eyes. I frantically search for my car keys. "(Y/n)?" I huff angry, not at him, at her, but still. "Not now Austin!" Finding my keys, I get out and make a run for it. Why does it seem like all I do lately is run or cry?. "Hey (y/n)!" I can hear Austin calling out for me, but I can't stop, my fucking mom is on her way to my apartment. My apartment where I was supposed to sleep, but I didn't sleep there, I slept here, with a boy, with Austin. I know I'm 26, but my mom still has a hold of iron on me. I think if she could she would glue herself to my hip. Best thing about Boston? She couldn't just spawn like this.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I try to drive fast, but still safe. My phone starts ringing again, i glance at it to see that it's not my mom and I just keep driving. Somehow I make it to my apartment and up the stairs before my mom. Bursting through the door, I find Betty in the kitchen drinking coffee. "Wow, slow down Sonyc!" I rush into the bathroom, wash my face and teeth at lightning speed. Running a brush through my hair, I put it up in pony.

Betty hands me a cup o coffee as I get in the kitchen. Her eyes scan me. "My mom called, she'll be here in 5, not a word about Austin." Just as I finish to say that, my mom comes in through the door, without even knocking. "Morning mom!" I try to put on the best smile, but she's unfazed. Always a sweet lady mom. Always. I sigh and drink some of my coffee, praying she doesn't see that I just got here, moments before her.

"(Y/n)?" I freeze, she knows, fuck, how does she know? Shit, shit. "Yes mom?" I try to keep calm, maybe she hasn't figured out my act quite yet. "Is that a stain on your shirt?" I look down and yes that is, in fact, a stain on my shirt. "I'll go change." I say and move to my room. Grabbing a new shirt and returning to the kitchen, I find mom and Betty in a very uncomfortable silence. "Ok mom lets go." I say, grabbing my bag.

"Is that a cat?" She says looking at Boots before I get the chance to leave. "Yes mom." I say, I hate that she thinks it's her right to say whether or not I can have a cat. "Is it yours?" I shake my head and open the door. I hear her following me and I know she's packing her rage for the car ride. Getting in her car, I put the seatbelt on and wait for her to scold me. But she doesn't, she's silent. And she keeps on being silent for the remainder of the day. We do some shopping, mostly new things I might need as new resident at the hospital. Then we have some lunch, again a very silent and awkward lunch. If she doesn't speak to me soon, anxiety might kill me.

On the drive back to my place, she finally decides to speak, turning the radio off. "Is that girl going to be staying at your house for long? I hope not, you are no longer in college and you need to be focused as ever. And the cat, I hope it goes with the girl, that thing will only be time consuming and dirty. Am I understood?" She keeps her eyes straight ahead, but her voice is strong. "Mom that cat is mine and it leaves in my house. Betty won't stay longer than a few days"

The bitter laughter my mom lets out has me shaking in my seat. "Your house? That was my and your father's money, not yours." I want to scream, but I can't so I just bite my tongue. I can taste blood in my mouth and that kinda brings me to stop biting so hard, but the pain keeps me grounded. "I expect you do as I say if you want to be great! Go now, I have to start my shift at the hospital soon!" Oh yeah, did I tell you my mom is also a doctor? Did I tell you she's one of the best oncologist in LA? I don't think I did, because it doesn't change a thing about how mean she is with me. "Bye mom!" I take my bag and go, tears already falling down my face.

When I get home Betty isn't there, she left a note on the fridge saying she's out with an old family friend. As much as I love her, I'm thankful she doesn't have to see me have a breakdown because of my mom. The phone rings and I ignore it, but it keeps ringing. I answer the call, trying to compose myself a bit. "Ah there she is!" Confused I look at the caller id, since I answered without doing that. It's Austin. "Austin?" He laughs. Is he drunk? I can hear music in the background. "Already forgot about me?" He lets out a fake cry and I can hear glass clinging. "Where are you?" I ask, worried that he might get himself in danger. "Bar?" I sigh, struggling to keep calm. "Which bar?"

"I don't know? A bar? Why d ya care?" He's slurring his words, that means he's really drunk. "Tell me where you are Austin." For a minute I don't hear anything else than the commotion happening around him. My heart rate picks up and I can feel the blood in my veins grow ice cold. "Hello?" A new wave of concern washes over me. "Austin?" I say hoping the voice just seemed different. "Yeah your boyfriend 's here, you should come pick him up, dude is wasted." I grab my keys and run out the door. "Ok tell me where!"

I'm sure I ran over a red light, I must've, oh god my mom is going to kill me. I shake my head, that doesn't matter now, Austin matters. I get to the bar and go in. The place is crowded, even though it's only 8 pm. When my eyes catch Austin, sitting at the bar, having an obvious disagreement with the bartender, my heart drops. To get his drunk he must of been here for a few hours already. I make my way through the sea of people. "Austin" I say and he turns to look at me. Immediately he smiles brightly, arms falling heavy on my waist and pulling me to him. "Hm you smell good" he says as a clumsy hand of his goes to the back of my head to stroke my hair. "Let's go!" I say, trying to push back from him, so I can get a better look at him. "No!" His voice is stern and suddenly his face shows anger.

I've never seen him like this. It breaks my heart. "Baby, come with me!" I try to avoid the lump in my throat as I speak. Taking one of his hands in mine, I make him stand up. Bad idea. He comes stumbling forward and almost brings us to the ground. Austin catches himself, by prompting both hands on the bar and caging me. His mouth drops to my ear. "I missed you." He says and makes me shiver. I can smell the strong alcohol on him. I hug him, resting my head on his chest. His chin stays on top of my head. "Let's go, please!" I say, hoping to reason with him.

Austin nods and moves to the side so that I can walk. I take his wallet and phone off the bar, loop one arm around his waist as I drape his over my shoulders. We stumble all the way to the car and I struggle to get him in, but I eventually make it happen. "Where do you live?" I ask looking at him. Austin crooks a brow at me. "You really don't know where I live?" He ask. I shake my head and start driving. I get to the gate of his house and assuming that the code is still the same, I just type it in. The whole drive he stayed quiet, at one point I thought he fell asleep, but no, he was staring at me the whole way to his house. "Ok, can you walk?" He shakes his head with a cheeky smile. I sigh and get out of the car, going to his side. "Come on!" I say and drag him out. I give him a minute to rest against my car, so that everything around him can stop spinning long enough for him to walk to the door.

Austin takes my hand and we walk to the door. "Where's the key?" He grunts and make a funny attempt to search in his front pants pocket. I move his hand away and put my mine inside the pocket feeling for the keys. "Hm I've dreamed of this, fuck!" He says, letting his head to fall back. I take the keys out and unlock the door. I ignore what he just said, I don't feel like joking with him, this is serious. Trying to push him through the door he grabs my hips and brings me closer to him. I know Austin, I know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me, but I can't help my body tensing up. "Stay!" One of his hands cups my face, thumb caressing my bottom lip. "Please!" He begs.

Nodding I push out of his arms and he lets them fall limp. I close the door behind us, turning some lights on. I take my shoes off and he struggles to do the same, but almost falls on his face. Little grunts and huff are heard from him, as I go to the kitchen to boil water to make some tea, searching for some advil in the process. When I get back from the kitchen, he's still in the entryway, struggling with the shoes. I go to my knees and help him. "So pretty!" He says looking down at me and when I lift my eyes up to meet his, he licks his lips, stoping a moan on the way. I blush and get up to my feet. "Let's get you to bed" I say patting his chest playfully. He offers me a crooked smile. "Ok" I know he's starting to sober up since there were so many dirty jokes that could've come out of what I had just suggested.

Austin drops on the bed and I go looking for his pajamas. Finding them in the drawer he always had them in, I go back to the bed and force him to a sitting position. I lift his sweater up, but his hands stop me. "You don't have to baby." I smile at the sweet remark. "It's fine, come on help me." He stands up on wobbly legs, gets undressed of his outside clothes and puts the pajamas on. On my way to the kitchen to see about that tea, I drop the dirty clothes in the laundry.

When I get back with a cup of hot tea and medicine, he looks like he's already fast asleep. I move some hairs out of his face and turn to leave. He grabs my hips before I can get far. "Stay" it's all he says. "I will, promise" I take his hands off of me and go to the bathroom to change in one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. The clothes are big on me, but they smell like him and they bring me a kind of comfort I haven't had in a long time. I climb on the other side of the bed and leave an arms length between us. Austin turns to face me.

"Thank you!" He extends a hand to caress my face. I close my eyes and get lost in his touch. "Why did you do it?" I ask, referring to him getting drunk. "I thought I lost you, you ran away from me!" My heart gets a shot of pain and I struggle to breathe. "My mom called, she was coming over, I had to get home before her" he giggles, hiding his face in the pillow. This laughter is contagious so I join him. "She still hates me?" He ask and I shake my head. "No she still hates everything I do" I say. "That's stupid, you're 25" he says and my laughter dies down. Even in his intoxicated state he sees that his words touched a sensitive part of me.

Using both arms he brings me to his chest and I don't fight it, because I need it, as much as I hate to admit it, I need him this close. Over the smell of whiskey I can smell his cologne, it's still the one I bought for him, so I'm now convinced he kept on buying it. "I'm sorry!" He says walking a hand up and down my back. "Yeah me too!" I say and snuggle my face in his shirt. Soon we fall asleep like this, hugging, in his bed, like the past three years never happened.

I feel hot, too hot for my liking, so I try to push the blanket off of me, but I soon come to realize it's not a blanket. Austin is holding me tight to his chest, little snores coming out of his mouth. He looks so calm, but the dark circles around his eyes tell me this is probably the first time his slept this long in a while. I stop stirring, I can endure the heat if it means that he gets to rest a bit. With every cell in my body I ignore that little voice trying to tell me to run for the hills. I love the way my heart beats in a regular rhythm, like it has found it's comfort.

Austin starts moving a bit and I go stiff. "Morning." He says in a raspy voice. Sleep still lingering on him. "Morning" I say, looking down at our tangled legs, to hide my burning cheeks. One of his hands takes my chin and forces me to look at him. "I missed this." He says and goes in for a kiss, but I turn my head so that his lips touch my cheek, not my lips. He sighs and lets me go of his embrace. The fact that I just deflected his kiss seems to have upset him. Getting up, Austin goes to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I sit up on the bed and hug my legs to my chest. I hear the shower turning on, god I want to shower so bad, I haven't since before our date. Is that what it was? A date? I close my eyes desperate to shut my brain.

When the bathroom door opens so do my eyes. In the doorway a half naked Austin, with a towel hanging low on his hips, shows up, looking surprised at me. "You can go, you know?" He says brushing a hand through the wet locks on his head. "Don't be like this, please Austin!" I say looking away. I feel the bed dipping under his weight as he sits on the edge of it. "I'm sorry, I just, I don't know what to say" his head hangs low, while he fiddles with his hands on his lap. I crawl over to him and hug him from behind. Letting out a sigh he relaxes in my hug and his hands come up to hold onto my intertwined arms. My lips ghost over the back of his neck and he trembles in response. "You can just say 'thank you' and then let me have a shower." I speak with my lips against his warm skin. "Thank you for everything!" He says. "You've welcome. Now you can say 'Go have a shower, I'll make coffee'" I say giggling and he joins in too. "Go have a shower, I'll make coffee" he repeats after me, which makes me laugh even harder. With a last kiss to his shoulder, I get up and go take a well deserved shower.

When I come out, I smell like him, but as soon as I make my way to the kitchen I smell the coffee. I stop in the doorway watching him flip an omelette in the pan. I didn't even ask him for it, he just did it, like he always used to when we'd spend the night together. Austin is now wearing a black long sleeve shirt and a pair of dark blue sweatpants, I can see the muscles of his back through the thin material. Thank you shirt. When he turns around to put the plates on the table, he sees me, a big smile appearing on his face. After giving me a look over his eyes seem to twinkle. I look at myself and remember I chose to change back into his clothes, that I wore to bed. "Um I hope you don't mind." I say blushing as I go to sit down.

Austin puts the coffee mug in front of me and then joins me at the table. "No god, I don't mind, you look...well you look so beautiful" he says and my heart swells with joy. "So how's the head?" I ask drinking some the coffee. Wow he made it just how I liked it. How did he? "Good, I drank the advil you put on my nightstand" my unspoken question must be all over my face since he goes on to say. "Oh and of course I remembered, 3 espresso with whole milk" I smile shaking my head at him. I eat some of the omelette and I have to restrain the moan of pleasure. It's just how I remembered it, fluffy, cheesy and with tomatoes. "This is so good!" I say and it's his turn to blush.

"About last night..." I interrupt him quickly. "I don't hold it against you Austin. I glad you called, it's not safe to get drunk like that." He avoids my eyes. "I know, but I shouldn't have made it your problem." I shake my head. "Not a problem, your safety is important for me, always was, always will be" I say as serious as I can. He nods and starts eating. For a while we sit in a comfortable silence, enjoying breakfast. "I'm sorry for running like that yesterday." I really am sorry. "It's ok, I shouldn't of fallen asleep, it was my fault." I almost choked on my omelette and I have to drink some water to recover. He's by my side in a second, running a comforting hand over my back. "Easy there, breathe!" He says. "I'm fine" i say and squeeze his hand 3 times to reassure him. Hesitant Austin goes back to his seat. "I said I'm sorry for running, not for failing asleep with you on the beach. My mom called."

He swallows hard, wiping his hands on the top of his thighs. "Yeah I know, I remember you told me last night." Oh I guess it's good that he remembers. I hate when we get awkward like this. It's not like us. "I really meant what I said, I want to get to know you again Austin, I'm almost 26, I'm done running and I'm done doing as my mom says. She said I should get rid of Boots, can you imagine?" He looks sad for me as he listens. That he's always been good at, listening, he always listened. "She threw it in my face that I bought the apartment with their money so she has a right to say if I can or can't have a cat. I mean yeah it was their money, but it was my college fund, that they gifted to me and that wasn't drained out because I worked hard for scholarships." I pass a shaking hand through my hair. My mom's attitude towards me, never fails to send me into a panic attack. "Come here!" Austin gets up and lifts me up from my chair, giving me a tight hug.

"I'm proud of you too, you're a doctor (Y/n) and you've worked so hard. I was dick to you and you didn't deserve it, but your mom has no right to question everything you do, that much I know." I lift my head from his face and look at him. His blue eyes find my (e/c) eyes and for a moment everything feels as it should. He kisses my forehead and his lips linger there for a while. "Ok, now I'll rinse and you load, deal?" He says stacking up the plates, putting them in the sink. I giggle and go help him.

After everything is cleaned, we find ourselves on his couch. I text Betty to tell her where I am and to ask her to feed Boots. She texts me back to remember to use protection and too edge him a bit since he deserves it. Her dirty texts make be blush and roll my eyes at her childish behavior. "What?" Austin asks me, causing me to lift my eyes from the phone. "Nothing!" I say but as I put my phone on the coffee table giggles shake my body. "Ok miss 'I'll giggle on my own for nothing' " he says laughing at me. "I was texting Betty and she said to remember condoms and to not let you cum too fast, apparently you deserve some edging" I say and his face falls, this is the first time anything this filthy as come out of my mouth. He's frozen, cheeks burning. I laugh so hard that I have to hold my stomach. Wiping the tears from my eyes I clam down, enough to see that he's sill processing what I just said. I struggle to keep serious. "What happened Butler, cat got your tongue?" I ask.

He shakes his head, blinking, trying to come back from wherever him mind carried him. "You can't say things like that to me, it's not funny" I bring my brows together confused and then I see him shift his position, but before he does my eyes catch a glimpse at the bulge evident through his sweatpants. "Oh" I say and move my eyes at the tv, that has some news channel playing. He chuckles, coming closer on the couch. One of his hands goes to my back and the other sits on my knee. My breath gets caught in my chest as his lips kiss my ear. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He asks, hot breath fanning over my skin.

I find myself nodding and swallowing hard. Do I really? Make him crazy? I turn my head and my nose bumps into his. He smiles a bit, but it goes away fast. We are so close. I could just... I close my eyes and lean into him. Our lips touch, kissing slowly, enjoying the feeling. His hand moves up from my knee to my thigh. My hands move to his neck, playing with the soft hair there. I moan into in mouth and that gives him the opportunity to push his tongue in. He groans as he pushes me back on the couch, coming to sit in top of me.

My hips move involuntarily into his, but his hands holding my waist now stop me, but not soon enough. He pushes his crotch into mine and we both sigh in pleasure. My heart is doing laps in my chest, I can't stop, he feels so good, this feels so good. He and I never got further than this, in fact I've never gone further with anyone. Everything is so new, so exciting. I want to touch all of him, my hands feel hungry to feel his skin. His lips pepper kisses on my neck. Our hips move in sink and I feel a sweet warmth in between my legs. I hug his waist with my legs and push him further into me. "Austin..." I moan, I can feel a strange thing in my lower belly, like an itch that needs to be scratched and his hips moving over mine does just that. "Please!" I say. I don't know what I want, but I know I need it.

My hands move to his shirt, starting to pull it up, needing to feel him as close as possible. His hands stop me though. He stops altogether, now frozen over me. "No, baby, listen, it's not that I don't want to. Fuck I'm so hard right now I think I could burst" he pushes his crotch forward so I can feel. I arch my back into him and moan. "Fuck, don't do that. I- I need to control myself with you. I promise you, we will, some day I'll make love to you. But not today, not like this, on a couch after you've picked me up from the bar the night before. I want to make love to you when I know that I've won your heart back" his words make me feel lightheaded, they carry so much care and love. I can't stop myself when I take his head in my hands and bring him in for a kiss. "I want to take you out again. Can I?"

His question makes me laugh, throwing my head back. "Yes, you can." Austin kisses both of my cheeks and then my lips again. He gets up and sits on the couch casually flipping through the channels on the tv. I straighten myself and try to gain some composure, but it's difficult. The feeling in my belly hasn't gone away and I know he must feel the same. "So where are you taking me out?" He smiles biting his lip. "Oh wouldn't you like to know!" He teases. I huff defeated. "Ok then mister, I'll go home and get ready for our date. Be so kind to at least tell me the dress code?" I ask hopeful to get some information out. He shakes his head and laughs at my disappointed face. "Surprise me!" Austin says.

I go to his room and change back into my clothes, folding his nicely and placing them on the bed. When I come out he looks sad. "My clothes looked better on you." He says grimacing. I only giggled and go to kiss the top of his head. Austin hugs my hips and lays his head on my tummy. "Can't wait to see you again tonight." He says. I massage his scalp with my hands and he lets out a satisfied sigh. I kiss his head one more time and he walks me to the door. He waits in the doorways until I drive out the gates, smiling at me.

All the way home I can't help but smile and the warm feeling in my heart only grows when I think about seeing him again. Maybe this is a good thing, I try to tell myself, but it'll take some time to completely kill that small voice in the back of my mind saying 'be careful'. I shake my head, trying to shake that voice away. Turning on the radio I hum to the music. I'm happy and until proven otherwise I'm gonna stay happy. Or at least I'll try.

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