#OF CAMPFIRES AND EVENINGS MISTS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milkzoro · 7 months

Text

fuck around & find out

summary: y/n is curious to how aces devil fruit powers work

a/n: i wanted to do ace cuz first, uhmm that’s my man. and second!!! the vibes are sooo fall rn & i love the cold weather,,,, so enjoy <3

warnings: MDNI, pussy eating, backshots, cowgirl, soft!ace (i luv him)

☆彡

it’s the cold months on the ship that have you cravinggggg some warmth, whether that be from your heated blankets, your warm coffee in the mornings, or late night fires with the crew… you just loved the warmth, especially this time of year. the ocean was getting colder the more up north we sailed causing freezing mists to come up and hit the deck. you’ve been hanging around ace more often too, attracting to him like a moth to a lamp. while he was back on board, you took advantage of your friendly little flame~

you are laying together with ace all cuddled up and cozy in his bed, he has a campfire scented candle burning brightly in the corner of his room. admiring the man before you makes your tummy feel warm and nostalgic.

he has you so close, arms pressed side to side as you’re both laid against the pillows resting on the back of his headboard. one of his hands start to peak out of the blankets, he stretches his fingers before hyping you up, getting you ready for his next move. “mkay i call this,,,, wizard fingers.” you can never take him seriously, your cheeks are so sore from all the smiles he’s stolen from you. wizard fingers??? this can’t be real.

ace wiggles his fingers before you as you see each one of them ignite with small little flame. you giggle. “shouldn’t they be called lighter fingers? you literally look like you’re about to go burn a candle.” he groans next to you. “oh my god y/n. you didn’t let me finish!” you stare at his hands as he starts to manipulate each of the flames from his fingers.

he pulls four of them back into his fist leaving just his index finger ignited. the flame starts to form little letters. each flash was a letter from your name. flash. flash. flash. you smile even more, he’s such a dork.

“it’s pretty cool, i know.” he smirks “wasn’t like i was even practicing or anything.” you think he’s so full of himself but you can’t help but admire, he warms your heart. your cold hands are on his body as he still has you close. his powers are so interesting. all of this came from just eating a fruit? you can’t contain your thoughts as you think of all the possibilities, he’s so warm.

maybe it was the skin on skin that were feeding your delusions but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of what he feels like.

he tucks his hands back away under the covers moving to hold your hands in his. you still haven’t answered him, your mind was still deep in the clouds. “okay maybe i was practicing,, getting it legible was kinda hard.” he laughed and you felt his chest move against your arm. “hmm?” you recollect your thoughts. ace looks at you. “were you for real not listening, y/n. that was cool! right!?” he looks at you to make sure you are finding this entertaining. “ahh sorry just not thinking right haha-” you mumbled and he looked puzzled, he shifted under the blankets to wrap his arms around you and pull you in a hug. his chin rested on the top of your head. “what do you mean.” his body burned hotter trying to warm you up.

“jus thinking about you- err well your devil fruit powers.” you curse yourself. but glad that you’re faced with his chest instead so that he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face right now. he laughed at you again. “what’s so special y/n. i just get warm. ‘m happy you like it though.” his arms tighten around you, squeezing you softly. your tummy was doing flips again, the way he had a grip on you sent shivers to your core. the feeling of his firm, scorching arms had you craving more from him. you knew he was teasing you though. he always would, he knew how much you loved his fiery touch and playful behaviors.

you’re face to face with him again, seeing red flames in his eyes. heat spreads to your face as his eyes lock on yours, waiting for any reaction from you. you’re lips hesitate to speak. “you- you get warm… everywhere?” your eyes avoid his. his hand gripped your thighs right below your ass, softly tugging on you to get your leg wrapped around his torso. you feel his hot fingers brushing away the stray hairs that were messily covering your face. it burned hot. his face proved that he found your embarrassment amusing.

“wanna find out?”

ace kisses you softly. his hot hand reaching up the softness of your shirt and leading themselves to your perked nipple. his hands are so rough, much different than the way his lips feel. he kisses the side of your mouth and whispers softly to you, “you’re still so cold?” he giggles as he watches you squirm at his touch.

“ace, your portholes are open. it’s fucking cold in here.” you whine trying to keep his heated fingers on you. his amused grin has you needy and irritated. you reach for his hands again. “just a second babe, let’s get ya shirt off.” ace helps to fully undress you with sturdy hands. a shiver leaves your body, covering you in goose bumps as the cool sea breeze hits your skin. “i’ll getcha all warmed up baby.”

he takes his hands and starts massaging the creases of your hips. kneading and pulling on your plush skin, slowly working his tepid hands all the way up your torso. the heaviness in his touch relieved so much within you, moaning at his warmth and his strength. he is manhandling you with you such softness and love.

hot palms come up to cup under your breasts tenderly, dipping his head down and sucking against your pretty nubs. his tongue swirls around each one leaving a string of warm saliva connecting from your buds to his lips. “are we gettin there, pretty? how do you feel?” wanting more, you pull him so that his chest meets yours. he buries his face into your neck and softly suckles. his breaths are hot there. “m still cold ace, wanna feel you” you whine for him.

his lips curl into a smile against your skin, he knew exactly what you craved. “how do you want it angel?” his clothed thigh pushes against your needy cunt, collecting many fifty whines from you. his fire ignited something warm inside of you, you need it to burn brighter.

his body shuffles down the bed, inching his face to be face to face with your sleep shorts. ace wants your juices dripping down his face, seeing you twitch for him has him starving. impatiently, he removes your shorts and panties, tossing them to the floor. he takes your hands with his own while he plays with you devilishly with his tongue, squeezing your palms slightly when he feels you try to move away.

his tongue attached to you like a magnet, chasing every move, he wouldn’t let you get away. he squeezes your hands again, “that’s it baby, such a good girl.” his tongue drawing little clouds on your swollen clit. “doin so good, can’t get enough of ya y/n~” he gulps all of your juices, sucking you clean. “haah- fuck acee. mm so close.” the tip of his nose brushed against the point of your clit as he slid his lips to your weeping hole, drinking even more of you.

he flicks back and forth from your hole to your clit with his tongue. removing one of his hands from yours, he reaches for the plump of your thigh. he squeezed harshly, assuring you to cum for him. his tongue moved swiftly with your slick allowing you to reach your orgasm. “ace! ‘m cuh- cumming!! shiiit right there haa-“ the sight of his glistening face sent an aftershock to your cunt, his smirk was so sexy while he was covered with your juices.

ace’s cock ached in his boxers, there were little dark spots littered across the fabric from his precum. “can ya do one more for me baby doll?” whimpers leave your lips while your head slightly nodded for him. “you did so good fa me y/a~ now you ready to feel this dick cupcake?”

your pussy was already sopping for him but still there was a little resistance when he slid into you. ace moaned breathily at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. “fuuu- shit y/n- feel so fuckin good mmmf~” his hot hands pushed down on your low back as your pussy was busy sucking around his cock.

your eyes watered at the shear width of him, he was spreading your sore cunt so deliciously. you felt your second orgasm start to form within your overstimulated core. he reached your cervix with one final slow push. once fully fitted around his length, you fucked back on him, slowly grinding your ass against his hard thighs.

ace tried to muffle his moans with his hand but you stripped them from him, he couldn’t be quiet. his deep moans echoed in his small cabin, ricocheting deep in your pulsating cunt. you throbbed for him, he curved upwards directly hitting your sensitive spot. ace gripped both sides of your ass to speed up his pace. pulling you hard against his reckless thrusts. he was getting sloppy. each thrust was met with the clapping of your cheeks on him, he groaned with each contact hit.

“wanna look atcha-“ he flipped you around to face him. you whined at the sudden emptiness but sighed as he soon filled you back up again. “don’t worry mama, wasn’t gonna take it from you.”

his voice was going blurry in your ears, dick so good you’re hearing auditory hallucinations. he took hold of your hips again while you sat on top of him, he rocks against you slowly.

you miss his mouth, his warmth~ wanna taste him again. your arms detach from his shoulders to hang loose around his neck, forehead rested against his while he fucks up into you. you’re ready, you wanna cum around him. pussy numb from feeling his tip abuse your cervix. “mm so close ace, please fuck me-” nonsense spilling from your lips, he is fucking you dumb.

your eyes are heavy as you try to line your lips up with his, drool sliding around both of your faces. he connects with you and sucks feverishly on your swollen lips. ace begins to pull you up and down on his veiny cock, bouncing you sporadically. the tightness in your eyes not helping you postpone your orgasm. “mmm ahh huhh- f-fuckk gonna- agh i’m cumming baby!!!!” the pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, it’s almost too much. your legs start to tremble as you effortlessly squeeze and clench around his width. “fuck cum in me ace- warm me up~” your wall’s are contracting around his poor, twitching cock while you milk him~ his breaths were shaky and irregular as he chased his own release.

“y/nnn-“ his husky voice filled your ears as you saw him cum inside of you. hips shuttering as his orgasm strikes him. pretty black hair sticking to the beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, his eyes tightened as he grunted out your name a few more times. glistening before you, he looked so ethereal..

* we are cuddling and warm and soo in luv !!! *

#one piece smut #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace smut #ace smut #one piece x reader

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thecampjuicebox · 6 months

Note

Was wondering if you could do one with Halsin or Astarion (or Gale👀) where Tav/reader has never let him finish inside them before and it’s something he reallyyyy wants to do so he spends a long time getting Tav all worked up (maybe even days saying he’s too busy to do anything right now) and then keeps bringing them to the edge before telling them what he wants and saying he’ll let Tav finish if they beg for him to finish inside of them

AHHHHHH OKAY WAIT all three would work so perfectly but I feel like this is especially Halsin coded so ding ding ding, he's the winner today. This is going to be a little out of order canonically because I have a very specific time period in mind for this to go down. HERE WE GO!

Just as nature intended.

Pairing: Tav (f) x Halsin (m)

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warings: SMUT, edging, piv sex, breeding kink, fluff, oral (f receiving), lots of scratching (with some blood), finishing inside, game spoilers

Camp is especially quiet tonight. Gentle waves lap at the short rock ledge, sea mist floating through the air and invading your nostrils with the salty scent. You sigh and relax your tired bones into the cracked stone. The barely audible crackle of the campfire lulls your shot nerves and you rub your temples, the tadpole wriggling just behind your eyes. To put put it plainly, you're exhausted. The shadow curse has really taken it out of you and your group today, evident by the lack of usual banter and comradery that camp often bustles with at the end of each rough day. Instead, everyone has retired to their tents immediately after dinner. You tap your fingers against the rock in a random pattern, doing anything to distract you from the pounding headache in your skull. Carefully pushing yourself from the ground, you move to retrieve your bedroll, preparing to settle in for the night. Whether or not sleep finds you is up to the tadpole at this point.

An idea works it's way into your thoughts and you pause your busy hands for a moment. You know a perfect way to relieve the thundering between your ears. Your lover, Halsin. His large hands and incredible sex drive often offer you solace when nothing else will. Even if he declines your offer for sex tonight, you're perfectly happy to curl up in his arms and search for sleep that way, although you'd much prefer the former option. You plop your bedroll down next to the fire and start towards where he's set up, the familiar scent of oak and basil wafting in your direction from the narrow opening in his tent and you salivate.

"Is that you, my heart?"

His words trickle like honey into your ears and your core burns like the fires of Avernus. You reach a trembling hand out and move the right tent flap to the side, ducking into his spacious living quarters. Halsin is sat cross legged on his bedroll, careful hands whittling a comically small piece of wood, the shape of a duck barely visible past his large fingers. He looks so handsome. Caramel hair tied back in a messy half up, half down bun. Pale green eyes carefully scan the small piece of wood that his knife works at, chipping away little chunks here and there. You giggle quietly to yourself, chewing on the middle knuckle of your index finger to stifle the noise, taking care to not startle him while he works. His attention shifts to you and he immediately sets his work down, muscular arms spreading wide to welcome you into his warm embrace. You oblige and slink into his arms. Your face instinctively nuzzles into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musk. He tightens his grip on you with one arm, using the other to adjust your seating position until you're straddling his muscular thighs. You grin, testing the waters of tonight's potential plans, nipping gently at the side of his neck. He groans, both hands reaching down to grasp your plush ass. "Hmph.."

"Hello, my love."

You lift your head to bite the pointy tip of Halsin's ear, earning a grunt into your perked up ears. A sweet sigh escapes his lungs.

"Not tonight.. My mind is elsewhere. I'm afraid I cannot please you the way you and I both desire. I'm sorry.."

Your lips flatten into a frown and you nod. "Alright." Kicking yourself for even thinking now was a good time, you carefully move to his side, throbbing temple resting against his firm bicep. His eyes soften at your quickness to pull away.

"What's wrong?"

You groan and mumble a soft "headache", closing your eyes to soothe the new light sensitivity. Halsin nods and leans to blow out the candles lit in a row next to him, arms snaking around you, guiding you onto your side with him. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and gently scrunches the hair in random spots on your scalp to relieve pressure. You sigh contently, allowing your lids to flutter.

...

It's been about a week of begging Halsin for release, being disappointingly turned down every time and your core aches from the moment you wake up, to the moment you lie your head on your bedroll at night. It's very unlike him to turn away moments of pleasure with you, especially after he confessed his feelings during the Teifling party. He was very open with his intentions and it made your head spin. He took you that very night. Large hands grabbing and prodding and begging for you, touching every inch of your willing body. Sex with Halsin is euphoric, to be blunt. Otherworldly. With Halsin's age and experience taken into consideration, it's no wonder. His words still ring in your ears every day.

"I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. I want more than to fight at your side, or sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

You lie in your bedroll, the thin veil of sleep still shrouding your tired eyes, but you're trapped in a dream. It's early morning, the rest of the camp still quiet, little snores breaking the dewy silence. Astarion tip toes past you, watching your body writhe in your sleep, clearly dreaming of something dangerous. He smirks and nudges you with his foot. You sit up in a panic, chest heaving, sweat beading up on your forehead and you shoot a look of surprise at Astarion. The vampire crosses his arms over his chest.

"Dreaming of me again, pet?"

"Oh, fuck off. You wish."

You scoff, shooing the man away with the back of your hand, both of your hands coming up to smooth your sweaty hair back and you groan. You quickly pull your nightgown over your knees, shielding yourself from the vampire's prying gaze. Astarion saunters off with a giggle. The small commotion stirs Halsin from his tent and he waves a soft "G'morning" to Astarion, the vampire returning the gesture with a similar wave. You squeeze your thighs together, noticing a very familiar warmth between them. Fuck. You're soaked, night garments basically ruined from the rather intense dream you had. Reaching down, you swipe the slick from your inner thigh and lift your hand up to inspect, the clear substance stretching into thin ropes between your fingers. You grin, not at all noticing your lover standing behind you now, pupils blown wide. He huffs and your bones nearly eject from the skin and muscles that hold them inside. "Sh-Shit." Halsin reaches down and grabs your arm, hoisting you up from your bedroll effortlessly.

"My tent. Immediately."

His tone is deep and hoarse with arousal. You obey and follow the elf to his tent, yelping when he throws you to the bedroll like a ragdoll. You love when he's rough with you. Primal need aches in your belly. You spread your legs for him while he clumsily fumbles with the clasps on the tent flaps. Eventually giving up, he turns to you, mouth salivating at the sight of you so open for him. So ready. He shakes his head, palming at his already erect cock through his leggings.

"Undress for me."

You nod, making a show of sliding your nightgown up and over your head, tossing it beside you, your absolutely soaked underwear coming next. You hook your thumbs into the soiled fabric and tug downwards, painfully slow. The elf grunts in approval, eyebrows knitting together. Once the fabric is at your knees, you slide one leg out, the other flicking the underwear into the air and towards Halsin. He catches them and quickly presses them to his nose, inhaling deeply. You beckon him closer with a slow curl of your index finger, a lust filled grin thinning your otherwise full lips. The air in the tent is warm, the scent of your heat getting Halsin absolutely drunk. He stumbles forward, collapsing overtop of you, large frame pressing you into his bedroll as he aggressively grinds his throbbing cock into your naked mound, desperate for any kind of friction. You wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, closing the gap.

"Halsin p-please.."

His grinding halts, body sliding down yours. You whine at the loss of friction and grab for his hair, shoulders, ears, whatever you can get your hands on to pull him back to you, desperate to feel him against you again. He nuzzles his nose into your soaked cunt, breathing you in, hands sliding to your inner thighs to firmly press them apart to anchor you in place. Your hips buck upwards into the tip of his nose, finding a moment of friction against your deprived clit. He exhales heavy against your slit, his hot breath coasting over your wet skin. Wiggling desperately beneath him, your hands fly down to his hair and he chuckles.

"Oak Father preserve me.. You'll be my undoing."

A quick flick of the tip of his tongue ignites a flame in your core that you cannot control, fire burning hotter and hotter up your spine. Grasping fingers tug and yank at his caramel locks and he grunts against your cunt, the vibrations only assisting in your molten hot pleasure. You burn as hot as Karlach's engine heart. Your climax builds and you yell into the early morning air, teetering on the very edge of absolute bliss. Then the feeling stops. Halsin pulls away, smirking up at you. You kick your legs in frustration and push your hips up towards his face, clit searching for his tongue.

"No, please! PLEASE!"

Your fire dulls to embers and you whine down at your lover, head lifted just enough to meet his eyes. He waits there. Breathing slowly. Each huff of air fans out over your begging cunt. Your eyes well up with tears at the lack of touch. Halsin hushes you sweetly, lips wrapping themselves around your clit once more. He laps at you in slow, painfully slow motions, his head bobbing slightly with the movements of his tongue. The aching builds again and you flex your stomach muscles, walls clenching tightly around the emptiness. The agonizing emptiness. Your sharp nails dig into his shoulders and he groans loudly into your folds. Teeth scrape over your clit, your hips bucking upwards quickly in response and you cry out. "Gods!" Halsin grins and moves his hands under your ass, pushing you up roughly against his tongue as we works you to the edge once more, listening for your change in moans before he pulls away again. You sob. Tears stream freely down your cheeks, back arching up off of the bedroll beneath you and you babble incoherently.

He repeats this process until you're absolutely broken, begging, screaming for him to give you what you so desperately crave. Release. You're positive your other companions are awake now, eating breakfast around the fire to the sounds of Halsin destroying you. The thought definitely arouses you further. He stands over your writhing body and kicks off his leggings, angry and erect cock springing forward. A thin rope of precum drips onto your thigh and you mewl. He bends over to grab your hips, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the same spot on his shoulder before. Halsin hisses. You grin and try to sneakily lower yourself onto his cock, Halsin catching on quickly. He tuts.

"Patience. I want to savor you for as long as I can."

His lips crash to yours, tongue begging for entrance, the subtle taste of your cunt lingering in his mouth. You accept his advance, wrestling your needy tongue with his, a mesh of wet sounds filling the tent. Without warning, he lowers you onto his cock. You moan loudly into his mouth and he follows suit at the grip your cunt has on him. He breaks the kiss to mumble under his breath.

"By the nine hells, you're tight. This is going to be harder than I thought."

Your hands move down his back, nails dragging behind them, slicing long bloody marks into his tan flesh. He throws his head back, bottoming out inside of you before lifting you all the way off of him once more, tip popping out of you with an audible squelch. You keen at the emptiness. Slick drips down beneath you, creating a puddle on the bedroll. Halsin slides in again, then out, then in, teasing your insides. You growl in frustration.

"Fuck me, gods damn it!"

Tears sting in your eyes from the way he's toying with you. You can't take it anymore. Your entire body burns. Aches. Needs.

"I will, my heart. And I'm going to fill you to the brim once I'm done. Only then, can you cum."

Your breath catches in your throat. Halsin had asked to cum inside of you before. And you declined every single time. The idea of potentially carrying a child terrified you. He often reminded you of the resident cleric in your camp, had the need for her become necessary. Now.. Now you're intrigued. You quirk an eyebrow at him and nod slowly, teeth catching your bottom lip. You chew the skin there nervously before settling on a decision. You craved Halsin. Needed every inch of him inside of you. You agree.

"O-Okay.. Just please.."

Halsin slides in before you can finish speaking, the tip of his weeping cock slamming into your soft cervix. You cry out loudly, head falling back, jaw falling open. Your eyes cross, your fingers and toes go numb, you're floating now. Black spots speckle your vision as Halsin aggressively ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him and he chokes on his breath, hips struggling to keep a consistent rhythm. He nears his end, and you're not far behind. He curses under his breath, grip on you impossibly tight, the indents his fingers leaving on your thighs and ass sure to bruise later. You cry his name into the air of the now steamy tent, the shuffling noises of the rest of the camp making you painfully aware of just how loud you're being. They definitely hear you. Halsin encourages your loudness, nails digging into the flesh of your ass roughly as he continues his thrusting, your entire body bouncing in his arms.

"Gods, I'm close. Beg for it. Beg for me to fill you, just as nature intended."

You pull yourself closer to him, torsos melding into one. Leaning close to his ear you let out a deliciously low moan, tongue working your way along his earlobe.

"Cum inside of me, Halsin. I want you to fill me up. Please.."

Halsin reaches a hand between the two of you, relying on your grip on him to hold you up and his fingers find your deprived clit, rubbing in furious circles. He thrusts one final time. Hot ropes of cum spew inside of you, the large elf grunting in pure ecstasy. He works your clit still, your climax very suddenly slamming into you and you scream his name. Your walls tighten around his softening cock and he slides out of you. You ride the waves, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you come undone. He holds you for a moment, cooing into your ear about how well you did for him, how much he loves you, how proud of you he is. You mewl and press tired kisses to his chest and shoulders, asking to be put down. He sets you on your feet and you squirm at the mixture of his cum and yours dripping down your inner thigh, legs barely able to hold you upright. You giggle.

"I need to bathe.. You've ruined me."

Halsin chuckles and pulls his leggings back on, reaching down to retrieve your nightgown and he hands it to you. You slide it on carefully, turning to catch Halsin taking another deep inhale of your underwear. You shake your head and he smirks in your direction, tucking the fabric under his pillow. "I'll be keeping these." He slides his hand into yours and leads you out of his tent, the rest of your companions snapping their attention to the two of you as they're finishing breakfast. Your face turns a deep shade of red and you lower your head in embarrassment. Yeah, they heard you. Astarion stands, moving behind Gale, placing his hands on Gale's hips and rutting playfully into his behind.

"Oh gods, Halsin! Please Halsin! I'm so close Halsin!"

Astarion mocks your loud moans, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as he pretends to cum. Gale rolls his eyes and shoves the vampire backwards, smoothing the back of his now crumpled robe down. Karlach and Shadowheart throw their heads back and laugh, Wyll shakes his head and sips his tea, blinking through the steam. You scurry out of sight of everyone, hand covering your face to somehow shield you from their taunts. Halsin slaps a hand onto Astarion's shoulder, leaning in to his ear, the smell of you still evident on his breath.

"Wishing she'd cry out for you like that, blood sucker?"

#halsin #halsin x tav #halsin smut #halsin fanfic #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #fic request

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icanhearcolors · 7 months

Note

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway.

He was something different now.

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already, he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there.

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here.

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor.

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?”

His voice is darker now. Persuasive.

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms.

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him.

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 #i have a problem

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triptuckers · 4 months

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Could you pls do his for Percy dating a child of Hecate (they’re both 16)?

Tysm if you do :)

hiii yes of course

as a child of hecate who is the goddess of magic and the mist, you have a habit of creating small illusions when you're bored

percy likes this a lot

he's made a game figuring out which illusions are real and which ones aren't

you love seeing his reaction when you create a water related illusion

he'll get all excited about it

even though percy has his own cabin you also hang out at your cabin

you don't have a lot of siblings so it's pretty quiet

percy asks if you can try to teach him magic and illusions

you've tried but he's a son of poseidon, not hecate

you're the best team during capture the flag and other games

all you have to do to win is create an illusion of your team going one way

while the actual team goes the other way

which is why most of the kids try all kinds of bribery to get you on their team

(really they should know better, you're a child of hecate so you always make your own decisions)

the two of you have been at camp for a while so if there's anything one of the younger kids wants to know they go to you

you spend a lot of your nights at the campfire telling stories

percy tells the stories while you do the illusions

you're famous for them

because you've known percy for so long you go over to his place whenever you're not at camp

you really like his mom

and sally loves to see the two of you still happy after all you've been through

you've both been through so much at this point you're not even surprised if something bad happens

you know you can handle it together

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reddeaddamnation · 5 months

Text

"Possession vs Obsession" - Sub-Zero x reader x Scorpion- Chapter III

Summary: An arranged marriage between clans in the name of peace ironically disturbs the peace of the two brothers who find themselves in a new feud. This time between themselves. Betrayal and heartache had been destined for them since she entered their lives. Y/N of the Shadow-weaver clan, promised to Bi Han, future Grand Master of the Lin Kuei, stands in front of the difficult decision- to end the war between their clans or end the war within the Lin Kuei temple.

"Outworld scum." Bi Han growled quietly watching the four armed creatures settle around a campfire, where some kind of meat was roasting. They sounded animalistic, talking in sounds only a beast would make. They didn't suffer from Tarkat. No, these beings didn't look like Tarkatans either. They had human like arms, long legs with backwards facing joints and elongated faces with jaws of a wasp or beetle. They had small, atrophied bat wings, which seemed to be useless, as they only walked. "We have to destroy their camp and kill them."

Bi Han briefly explained that they posed a threat to Earthrealm, as they poured in bunches out of some kind of portals and kidnapped lonely travelers and helpless people from their homes in villages. In front of the ninjas at the moment were only a dozen. Thankfully, from their position up on a cliff, they remained unseen, so they could create a plan. At least that was what Y/N was hoping.

"I will not be standing around you at all times like over a child." He glared at her briefly "So I hope you can fight and not hold me back." During their day of travel to this location, he had not uttered a single word to her if she had not started a conversation. And even then, he still replied with as less words as possible. It was getting on Y/N's nerves at this point. "You won't even hear a yelp from me." She glared back at him. "Come on then. Let's see if you're worthy."

The man jumped down, followed closely by Y/N, who took the form of a mist of shadow to safely land behind one of the beasts and slash it's throat. Black blood oozed out of it and the guttural noise it made startled the rest who immediately jumped from their places to attack. Conjuring spears from shadows, two were impaled straight to the ground. Sub Zero punched his way through several and smashed one's head with an ice hammer.

Y/N disappeared again, evading swords slashing at her and passed through the small croud, confusing them. Again, appearing from behind, she impaled two more on her shadowy blades and threw them to the ground. She turned around to see one of the monsters raising its sword to strike at Bi Han and with lightning reflexes, she threw a shuriken at it, making it stumble just in time for her companion to notice. He briefly looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite make out before finishing the job.

A scream gave out the position from where the next attack would come from and she managed to grip the armed hand that was swinging at her by the wrist. She could not protect herself from the punch that followed tho, making her let go and stumble backwards, allowing the sword to slash her arm. A kick to the stomach sent her flying back.

Y/N raised a figure of a robed shade skeleton, which flew right into the mouth of one of her own attackers. Moments later, he exploded in a heap of black blood. She could not escape, however, from the surprise attack from behind her back. An arm wrapped around her throat and another held onto her arms. Her attempted kicking was futile. A blade flashed in the side of her eye, pressing into her throat and drawing blood.

A chill ran down her spine then. The creature froze in place, quite literally at that. Its head was frozen and crushed, making both of them drop to the ground. When she regained her breath, she looked up at Bi Han, ready for a mouthful about how he wasn't going to save her and whatnot. That did not happen. He hesitantly extended his hand for her to take and pulled her up from the ground. The unexpected behavior caught her off guard.

"Are you hurt?" He asked quietly, looking at her face... anywhere but her eyes... meek like a kitten. She shook her head no. "Just some cuts and bruises. Nothing serious." Bi Han's eyes lingered on the deep cut on her arm which was bleeding quite a bit. "You're bleeding!" He stated, raising his voice, just barely. "I said I can handle it!" Y/N insisted.

Attempting to step away, she felt light headed all of a sudden. Bi Han noticed her stumble and quickly closed the gap between them to catch her before she fell. Her wound was deep...deep into the muscle and close to the bone... and bleeding. Fast. There was no way they would make it to the temple in time. He needed to stop the bleeding. Or he would never hear the end of it from his father and brothers...

"Bi Han..." the girl looked into his eyes with her own, half lidded, weak... He laid her down next to the fire to keep her warm. Gripping one of the metal rods from inside it, he pressed it to the wound to cartherize it. The smell of burning flesh and blood filled his nostrils. Y/N shrieked in pain, digging her nails into his bicep. "Listen to me, assassin." He commanded through gritted teeth, wincing from the pain "Stay with me. Don't give up."

Sub Zero threw the rod aside and ripped a piece of his cloth to wrap it around the wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped for now. He held her close to his chest, allowing her to rest as much as needed before they depart. "You are a good fighter." He spoke "I underestimated you." Just to keep her listening to his voice so she stays conscious "And I thank you for saving my life. I return the favor to you." Just to stay conscious...that's what he thought... "You risked your own for mine..."

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #sub zero x reader #sub zero #mortal kombat sub zero #scorpion x reader #scorpion #mortal kombat scorpion #kuai liang x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #kuai liang

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dicebound · 3 months

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Legend in the Mist - Kickstarter Now Live!

Son of Oak is excited to announce their next game, Legend in the Mist, a rustic fantasy RPG based on the award-winning and groundbreaking narrative game engine of City of Mist.

Spin a fireside tale of unlikely villagers setting out on a quest into a greater unknown world, rife with peril and mystery, in the vein of The Lord of the Rings, The Wheel of Time, Princess Mononoke, and many other classic fantasy stories, or create your own legendary realms with the game’s open-ended system.

The Kickstarter campaign will fund the creation of two books – the Legend in the Mist Core Book and the Hearts of Ravensdale Setting Book – as well as a range of accessories such as premade character folios, a Master of Ceremonies (GM) screen, cards, dice, maps, and more.

Legend in the Mist is a narrative roleplaying game with optional tactical features, that evokes the feeling of an old fireside tale. You gather your companions, journey through the countryside and wilderness, overcome dangers both natural and ancient, then have campfire conversations about what it all means.

Rather than another D&D-clone, Legend in the Mist focuses on bringing story and gameplay together with each one of its features, from its simplicity at the table to built-in tools for developing personal story arcs for your characters that lead to dramatic moments of transformation

Each PC has multiple and sometimes conflicting motivations that the player must juggle between. Players are encouraged to make hard choices, which can eventually transform their characters in dramatic story moments: they swap out themes and all the tags associated with them for new themes and ability sets, changing the character’s gameplay.

PCs constantly evolve narratively, changing their “class”, shifting to a new role in the party, or resolving a major backstory event – and coming out of this transformation with newfound abilities.

Uniquely, the game will support a party of PCs of varying power levels, balancing them by giving them equal narrative power (who was more instrumental in Lord of the Rings, Frodo or Gandalf?).

You can start the game with a party that includes a heroic outlander, a powerful wizard, or even a supernatural being alongside a band of rough-hewn villagers whose heroic days are yet to come. This balance between Origin and Greatness themes is at the heart of the game, and player characters can move between these polarities as they progress and change themes.

Legend in the Mist is a setting-agnostic fantasy game that you can play in any of your favorite settings. The Core Book provides you with guides and tools to create any character, culture, adversary, location, or magic system that you dream up!

#ttrpg #city of mist #kickstarter #crowdfunding #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpg #son of oak #gaming #not sponsored just passionate

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inmoonsblood · 3 months

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nepenthe: (n) "that which chases away sorrow".

pre tlt-tlo. luke castellan x child of a minor god!reader. 700 words, prologue.

synopsis: time keeps slipping away. luke slips along with it. you were never important enough to care, anyway.

warnings: godly parent of the reader isn't mentioned but is specified to be a minor god. mentions of luke and reader making out, reader is said to be the eldest out of their siblings, kind of toxic situationship between luke and reader. minor book spoilers? (I haven't watched the show yet)

note: i'm writing on tumblr after almost a year and a half, this isn't that gooduprwefjod. this is just a brief intro to the possibility of a bigger series under the same reader, kinda? if it does go ahead, it will be based on the books! idk how i feel about it so far, but I'm always open to listening to feedback!

At Camp Half Blood, there remain a few things you cannot learn, no matter the amount of harsh, gruesome training you’ve gone through.

For those who look for it, every day is a new lesson. For example, capture the flag: every game tells you more about your opponents and allies when you know how to look for it. With every game you start to notice how the Area kids undermine the minor gods in cabin eleven, almost forgetting their existence. You notice yourself clubbed with children of another minor god, despite sharing nothing with them, you notice the way Luke’s expression goes blank and tenses up when he notices that.

So you ask him about it late at night, away from the campfire and chaos, bodies pressed together and hips pressed against each other. He replies by biting on your bottom lip, you retaliate by pulling his hair. The next thing you know, you’re pushed up against the wall and a little over half an hour later you walk into an empty cabin eleven with a purple bruise blossoming on your neck and lips swollen red.

A corner on the room’s floor is dedicated to your siblings and yourself. and you wonder how long Luke will keep it reserved for them—for you. You wonder, will the treatment end the moment this . . . affair between you two ends? How will you explain this to your siblings then? When you finally need to deal with the jealousy that comes with being somewhat special to a counsellor.

So you learn to adapt, to take advantage of those who undermine you, and to make allies with those who understand your strength. It’s not hard getting your siblings to listen to you, after all, you are the eldest with two quests weighing down on your conscious daily, but having that achievement means little to nothing when your godly parent isn’t an Olympian.

You sit down in the corner of the room, knees tucked in your chest and you look around. You have three siblings on your godly side, a diary hidden under Luke’s (because no one would respect your privacy, yet they wouldn’t dare breathe in Luke’s way like that) pillow containing their names, mortal addresses, mortal family’s numbers and blood types noted down. You wonder if Camp Half Blood would have a proper funeral if any of you—not just your siblings, any of the children of the minor gods—died. Would there be a grieving period? Would someone look for you? Would they even call the families you’ve left in the mortal world or would those who care wonder what happened to you all?

No minor god is as important as Olympians and as much as no one says it, you can feel it—you all can feel it.

A child of Nike can win better than a child of Ares, no one gives them the credit of winning, though, it’s always beginner's luck. Camp survives on the magic and mist of Hecate and yet no one, *not one person* appreciates any of her children. Iris is responsible for most, if not all, of the communication at camp and yet no one includes her children in any conversation. Tyche and Hebe’s children are almost as joyful as the Apollo and Aphrodite campers, yet no one smiles or dances with them. The goddess of luck’s children have none here. Nemesis cradles her children, promising justice and vengeance, and Hypnos lulls his kids to sleep, ensuring no nightmares whilst they sleep, unable to do anything to the bullying when they’re up.

Your parent is amongst these minor gods, and whilst they do care slightly more than Olympians do for their kids, you cannot help but be angry. Anger that you know will be spent on the Hermes counsellor, pushing him till he pushes you back, till you’re both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths and till your nails scratch red lines down his back, after all, it’s what you two do to each other.

No conversation, no understanding, no labels. You two are just two teenagers angry at the world for taking their parents away. Nothing else to each other, right?

#( ✸ ) half divinity #( ✸ ) pari's works #( ✸ ) not a request #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

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✮ tags ; fem reader, historical fiction (time period typical commentary about gender), bantering / romantic tension, smoking cigarettes, indirect kiss, enemies to lovers if you squint, a vague age gap hejkfdjks

✮ a/n ; i cant believe myself but i needed to get it out of my fucking brain.

"Aren't very good at being stealthy, are you Mr. Marston?"

His eyes linger on your frame longer than he'd like them too. You're still in your night clothes, and dawn has yet to break. Up earlier than he's used to seeing you. Up brushing his horse, of all things. Old Boy's nothing but tender under your care.

The faint mist of morning touches his skin, turns him cold. You oughta be even colder like that, but it doesn't show on your face.

He scoffs a little, hands tucked into his pockets. "Wasn't trying to be. Nobody's up this early so I though we had some unwanted company."

"I guess I still count for that, huh?"

“Oh, shut up would you?”

You giggle back to him in reply. It’s rare to hear. Normally when you're laughing, it's a lot coarser. Always so rowdy. He doesn't mind how you sound now. He sits on a log nearby, watching you as you pat the horse gently. Brushing it's mane and whispering words quiet enough that he can't hear over them over the crackle of the freshly lit campfire.

He can't see your face in the dark either, not well. But you're smiling.

"He likes you more than he likes me," He mumbles.

"A woman's touch or somethin' like that," You reply back. John laughs sardonically.

"A woman? Hardly. Got plenty of other options if that's what he needs."

You shoot him an unimpressed look, brows furrowed. Most women would be pissed at him for saying so. John wouldn't say it to anyone but you, he figures. You hardly look mad though, if a little displeased.

You rifle through the horses saddle (with all of John's things, not even bothering to ask him permission) until you find some sugar cubes. The horse makes a pleasant noise as you coo at him, opening your hand up to feed him.

"But he's eating out of my hand all docile anyway," You give John a furtive glance, smile pulling at the corners of your lips "Reminds of somebody,"

Yeah. Right. He bets it does.

For how much you and John argue and for how much you get on each others nerves, he can admit to himself that he spends more time looking at you then looking away. He can't understand it himself. Makes him feel guilty. He ain't much of a good man. He ain't much of anything. A decent marksman, a fine swindler. Not much else.

The flame paints your face orange-yellow in the light. Not enough for you. Not in anyway. But he can't keep his eyes from memorizing you . Always noticing the way you look back at him. All tender. You can be a lot of things when you want to be, but he doesn't often catch it.

It's hard to ignore when he does. "Don't you have things to do, Mr. Marston? Your turn to stand watch today, isn't it?"

He wants a little longer with you. He frowns at you. "Mr. Marston? You call everyone their name but me."

"Does it bother you?"

Course it does. That's what he wants to say. He looks around for his satchel and pulls a cigarette out from it along with a lighter. The flame sparks, looking away from you. "Just wondering why that is."

"Well, lets see," You stop tending to Old Boy after a few more lonesome pats, instead walking towards him close to the fire. You pour yourself a cup of coffee as you sit on the log adjacent. "Arthur's troubled when I say Mr. Morgan, says it makes him feel old. Mr. Smith is too formal for Charles, and Summers is... Summers. Same with Dutch, and Hosea and Bill. Mm, I guess that leaves Javier - but he's hardly a mister."

"And I am?"

You grin into your cup of coffee, not looking at him. "Course you are, Mr. Marston. What else would you have me call you?"

"My name would do you just fine."

"I like Mr. Marston. It's nice and formal, and well," You do peer up at him at him this time. "Young ladies are supposed to be prim and proper and formal, aren't they? At least from what I know. Shouldn't go around calling a man with a son by just his name now should I?"

Damn it. You're clever. "It's no wonder men lose their betting money to you."

"What are you saying now? Just trying to be mindful. Would you prefer I call you your name, Mr. Marston?"

You're doing it on purpose now. He sighs.

"Call me whatever you want," He says, giving up on it after a while as he takes another drag of his cigarette. You finish your coffee, bemused before empty out the grounds.

After, he watches as you saunter over to him. You bend forward, too close - bare skin inches away from prying eyes.

He's thankful everyone's asleep and not around to witness this.

You bend to him eye level, plucking the cigarette half-smoked from between his fingers and placing it between your lips. Your lips are smooth, shiny and plump and soft.

You hold it between your pointer and middle and take a deep inhale of smoke. The scent of tobacco floods his lungs again as you blow the remaining smoke out into his face, making him cough.

He stares at you wide-eyed and awe struck as your grin widens. A flush creeps up his face as he realizes where your mouths been, watching the end of butt of the cig get dark and stick between your lips.

"Thanks for the cigarette, John," You say, waving him off as you turn back towards your tent. "I'll see you at supper,"

John watches you smoke as you get yourself ready for the day, at the far end of the camp - adjusting something in his jeans. Damn you do something to him.

#rdr2 x reader #john marston x reader #red dead redemption x reader #how on gods green earth do i tag for a man named john #writing tag #i want that guy quite terribly

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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years

Text

Geraskier concept (PART TWO IN THE REBLOG)

How about an AU where Julian Alfred Pankratz’s family is a scary, violent family…like evil necromancers who work for imperialists and do their dirty work. Magical mobsters. Something like that.

And when Julian is ‘brought into the family business’ as a teen, he is taken on an errand and witnesses a murder. He is so traumatized by it. He vomits. He rages.

He isn’t a hero or anything but he does have a conscience and harming others and violence sickens him.

He wants to run away but his father is too powerful. He would never be able to get far enough. So he asks his father to let him go. To release him from his family obligations.

His father is like absolutely not. You’re young. Once you get a little experience, you’ll realize that killing is necessary. All of this idealism and self righteousness is just naïveté and childishness. So just stay. You’ll get used to it.

Julian is like no I will never be alright with killing people.

They fight like demons about it and Julian’s father tells him he will let him go under one condition. That he consents to having a spell put on him. “The day you kill someone, everything will go black and you will wake up here, under an obligation to work for me.”

They are both so sure of themselves.

Julian agrees to it almost before his father is even done explaining himself. He has nothing to lose. “I’ll never do it,” he vows.

Julian’s father is so sure his son will eventually become like him. Will follow in his footsteps. So he casts the spell and Julian agrees to change his name to sever their connection. He calls himself Jaskier and he takes off.

Freedom is exhilarating. Jaskier drinks and sings and fucks and meets new people and sees the world. Most importantly he gets to be himself.

Of course his father keeps tabs on him and occasionally sends a messenger to ask if he’s tired of being a brat. He tries to get him to come back. But the answer is always no.

Then Jaskier meets Geralt. At first it’s just admiration and of course (of course) lust, like everything else. But it quickly transforms into something else. They spend nights talking by campfires, drinking together, talking shit, making fun of aldermen who are afraid of Geralt or who don’t want to pay him. They fit together in a way Jaskier has never experienced.

And Geralt is magnificent. Geralt protects him and pulls him out of danger and saves his life time and time again. Jaskier falls in love with his entire heart and soul. He thinks it is one sided. So he decides to never confess it. But oh he loves him. He harbors it in his heart.

But he cannot bring himself to tell him about his family. Mostly, he is ashamed, though he isn’t sure if it is of his father or himself.

Then one day, Geralt is set upon by superstitious villagers being egged on by a mage who wants Geralt run out of town. Geralt, strong as he is, can be overwhelmed by magic plus being outnumbered.

Jaskier is in a tavern performing, but he finishes and comes upon the scene just as Geralt has fallen. He realizes with soul deep panic that Geralt could die if he doesn’t help him. The only way to do so is to silence the mage who hasn’t yet seen Jaskier.

When Jaskier picks up the knife he knows he will likely never see Geralt again. He knows it will mean a life of soul destroying evil. Of conformity. Of captivity. Of being under his father’s thumb again.

But they are bearing down on Geralt and no one else can help him. Geralt who has saved his life more times than he can count.

And what is love if not willingness to sacrifice?

So he steps out of the shadows and buries the knife in the mages neck. By the time he pulls it out, he turns to mist and the knife clatters to the ground.

With the mage dead, Geralt easily overwhelms the villagers and frees himself. He didn’t see who killed the mage but there’s no time to figure it out. he goes to find Jaskier so they can get out of town.

But Jaskier is gone. Geralt cannot find him anywhere. He tortures himself with thoughts about why Jaskier abandoned him. Did he sense that Geralt had fallen in love with him and so abandoned him? Did he grow tired of dealing with the prejudice that dogs Geralt? Did he see the mob and say…no more?

And who stabbed the mage? Certainly not Jaskier. Not his Jaskier who vomits at the sight of blood.

But Geralt cannot in his heart of hearts believe, truly believe that Jaskier would leave without a word. Would he? He thinks he can accept it and forget about him. But he can’t. It haunts him. So he decides he needs answers. He wants jaskier to explain himself.

If only he could find him and ask. He could put his heart at ease. But he realizes with horror that he has never actually asked Jaskier about his family or his life. What kind of friend has he been? And how will he find him?

Then he remembers something.

One night at a performance, someone called Jaskier some other name. Jaskier hustled them away, and Geralt doesn’t remember the whole thing.

The only word he remembers is Lettenhove.

He will go there. He will get his answers.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #Jaskier’s murder family

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maybejenna · 2 months

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imagine being a demigod in 2024.

imagine a minimal to no social life in the summers. always having to make excuses because you can't hang out. your parents having to excuse you to relatives why you can't go out on a vacation this summer with your cousins. having to explain to teachers why your grades are falling down. explaining to your friends why you look like your walked through hell because you just fought a monster before lunch.

can you hang out this summer? your friends ask you before the beginning of summer breaks because they wanna do something fun. like hang out in the mall. or get trashed in each other's houses. or someone's got a birthday party coming up. or there's this carnival coming to town that they would like you to attend with them. your answer's gonna be awkward.

ummm... yeah, i can hang. maybe for a couple for days. because yk you can't hang out for more than a couple of days. you have the get the camp jupiter or half blood asap. and before leaving you have to atleast spend sometime with your friends and family.

do you have plans this summer? some people tend to ask because they're gonna go out on vacations or have plans with family and friends.

what do you say, then? umm... killing monsters? going on quests? learning how to fight an ancient greek being? campfire sing alongs? crawling lava walls? parring with your half siblings? you had half siblings?? that you would spend majority of your summer hanging out with nymphs, satyrs, demigods, a centaur and a god of wine?

can we reach you? they ask only for you to say how you're going somewhere there's no signal. they'll soon start getting suspicious because now they're noticing a pattern. because you can't tell them how you have leave your phone behind so that you don't have monsters running after you. coming back to a million missed calls and so many messages left unread telling you how much you missed out on or the greatest party of the year.

dyslexia and adhd are least of your problems especially with college applications coming up because you never expected yourself to survive that long. it's a miracle, really. and college will be a pain because how do you say you got accepted to an university in NEW ROME?? most of them would be surprised you even got into college with your terrible grades. they don't even know how smart you are. most of them just presume you to be dumb because of your dyslexia and adhd. especially the teachers- gods they're such pains in the ass with the constant questioning and why you can't perform well in school. all you can think of is how smart you are in ancient greek or roman

why are you breathing so hard? you look like you ran a marathon. well, you kinda did because how else do you explain defeating a drakon or laistrygonian giants before first period? you settle for, oh i woke up late.

or being able to see through the mist. while your friends only see a black dot in sky, you can see the pegasus neighing at you. while your teachers only see gigantic storks pecking at the windows, you can see the stymphalian bird looking right at you. as your parents switch on the tv news that reports of a horrendous tornado, you can see zeus and poseidon fight and you think, what now? with a sigh. as you're faced with a terrible earthquake in a millenia, yk some demigod had pissed off some god, somewhere.

imagine running into one of your friends during a quest. imagine running around your city, trying to find ganymede's chalice or retrieving something that one of the gods lost. oh hey, jenna! what are you, doing here? i thought you were away on vacation? your camp friends look at you, all amused as you try to grapple for an answer. it's a funny story, yeah...

imagine the crazy gossip sessions during camp as you and your camp friends talk about the life outside and and the ridiculous things that happened this school year or the gossip of who cheated on whom and whom got wasted and flashed the english teacher. giggling as you catch your friends up on something mundane as your life is anything but.

and some camp elements coming alive during summer. like the amazing muscle strength you have as you fight a boy despite hating gym period. you can't just say- hey! this is what i train for every summer. or an eerie fact you state in physics as you learn about delta. oh yeah, old man daedalus' sign? he was genius but funny. how do i know? i read. can't just say, i met the dude once. or if one of your friends asks about your camp friends that you have pictures of on your instagram or on a polaroid, you're left stuttering. or when a guy outside camp hits on your and your friends pressurise you to go out with him. how do you tell them you have a boyfriend at camp? you can't without them asking to meet him and you can't have that.

imagine coming clean to your parents with a satyr's help. my mom would yell, then faint then stop talking to me for a while. but after that she'd be fine. my dad... he'd start looking at me funny and be very hesitant about camp. they'd try forcing me to stay longer and make me have more plans with the relatives that i'd have to keep cancelling. and imagine being an indian demigod- gods, the weddings you'd miss! and having to sit beside your mum during parent teacher conferences as your teachers drill on about how you're not performing well and even tho she knows- she agrees, saying you don't study and says i'm gonna try better next time. as soon as we get home, she says, we gotta do something about your grades. telling her about the university in new rome and somehow that's more helpful. maybe that's gonna help out the situation better.

then there's the issue of powers. being a hermes kid would be cool because you would be amazing at sports and popular. your thieving skills also wouldn't be too bad. the charm would make you likeable and popular and sneaky. being an athena kid helps out in pe and studies and maybe you can even be one of the best at classes. being an aphrodite kid means everyone adores you and you're popular and you can get yourself out of the slickest situations in the quickest way possible. even being an apollo kid would mean you're great at band and people like you. now, imagine being a kid of hephaestus, hades, hecate or poseidon. a kid pisses you off in gym class and he's lit on fire the next second. during an exam, you're so nervous that you douse the entire examination hall in water. you have a talent show coming up and you charm everyone into loving your performance and one kid swears he saw your eyes glow purple. imagine helping out your crush carry her bags and notebooks only for them to see a skeleton slip out of view. it would be a mad school year.

returning and looking at instagram and snapchat and realising how much you missed. but then you look at your camp beads and reminisce on your camp friends and how fun that summer had been. how fun it was staying with your half siblings and even mr d was pretty sufferable this summer. there was no greater feeling that sneaking around camp with the guy you like at night, running from the cleaning harpies. nothing like waking up and having realised that the hermes kids pulled a prank on your cabin. nothing like sparring with your friends or climbing the lava wall with extra risks involved. running through the strawberry fields with your siblings chasing you. sitting in camp sing along and realising that you finally belong. that you wouldn't have it any other way, even as you look at your friends hanging out without you. because you had people you loved, even tho the risk of dying the next night still loomed over you.

perhaps, that's what being a demigod feels like

#camp half blood #camp jupiter #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy pjo #friends #demigod #teenagers #half blood #greek gods #rick riordan #life #summer #books #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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icabrth · 9 months

Text

emergency management

pairings: misty quigley x fem!reader

summary: after the planecrash ___ gets seriously injured and misty is ready to take care of her.

warnings: planecrash, duh!🤣 blindness, mentions of gore.

a/n: misty is lowkey my fav..

masterlist link

There was a sensation at your fingertips, a ringing in your ears and a darkness before your eyes. You blinked twice, attempting to regain your sight before even realizing what you was doing. The darkness had completely overcome you, and upon realizing that, you freaked the fuck out. You knew that you only had four senses left to work with; taste, touch, smell and sound. “___! Where are you!” You heard someone say. You could not talk, you couldn’t even move. Your efforts to make yourself known were futile as your body stayed still, paralyzed. Oh god, you thought. Is this how I’m gonna die? Just as you began to drown in your own thoughts, you heard the voice again.

“Where the fuck are you!” She screamed, desperate to find you. You recognized that voice, it was Misty.

“Mis-“ you managed to let out, leaving you immediately breathless. She didn’t hear me, you realized. And the thought of dying alone, paralyzed creeped up on you again. Now you were desperate. Adrenaline flowing through your veins, giving you strength. You gathered your remaining courage and managed to move your arm slightly, hoping for something, anything that would result in some kind of noise. Fortunately, luck was in your favor; your fingers ran through the autumn leaves on the ground, causing a rustling sound. It was quiet, so quiet that you had to stop your breathing for a second to hear it. But it was enough.

You heard the footsteps getting closer and you realized – you were saved. Misty was your savior.

Suddenly, you felt her hands on your shoulder, holding your head under her hands. Despite her hands being cold, your irrotational mind made her sound like a living heater, and you couldn’t help but lean into her touch. You unconsciously nuzzled your head into her forearms. Misty was unsure of what to do for a second, blood rushing to her cheeks as she blushed heavily. She didn’t know if you’d noticed or not. She scanned your frantic eyes that were looking anywhere but in her direction. She figured something was wrong with your eyesight, but that was a problem for another time.

She observed your situation; you half your body was stuck under a fallen tree and the rest must’ve been falling damage. “Holy macaroni, I gotta get help! Stay here!–“ she said, running over to the others.

“Guys, I found ___! She’s seriously hurt! Lottie, Nat, Taissa! Come with me!” She picked the strongest ones so they’d be able to carry you. They shared a few worried glances before heading over.

“Mist– please..” you muttered, the words coming out slurred. “Don’t worry, ___! I’m here and I brought help!” Misty assured you. In this instance, you had never been more thankful for her overly helpful or clingy personality. You felt cold and all you wanted was for someone to tell you that it was gonna be okay, to reassure you. And Misty never failed at that. She had brought a few tools in her backpack, including the axe she’d used to cut off coach ben’s foot. She was worried that she would have to amputate your leg as well. Nevertheless your entire downer body it was stuck under the tree.

The four of them eventually managed to lift the tree and get it off you, letting out sighs of relief as they saw no squished body parts. You did have some bruises and probably a few broken limps, but that was seemingly it. Misty couldn’t distinguish the relief she felt when she discovered she didn’t have to cut of any body parts. But there it was again..

“I can’t see! I can’t fucking see!” You yelled.

You had been laid closest to the campfire, positioned randomly between Jackie and Nat. After realizing something might’ve been wrong with your eyes, Misty got her flashlight to check your visual acuity. As expected, your eye sight was entirely gone. She figured there was something wrong with the optic nerve. She gathered the others and told them about her discovery, and they decided against telling you for now. They looked at your unconscious figure, taking in your unsteady breathing, knotted eyebrows, and dried tear stains. Shauna had this theory that too much tragic news in such a short time period could kill you and (although it was probably bullshit) neither of them wanted to tell you.

“We’ll just tell her it’s temporary or something.. just let her get used to it before we break it to her.” Jackie said, staring down at you. The two of you had been pretty close before the accident, and it pained her heart to see you like this. She needed you hear, mentally. Although she did have Shauna, she began to think she wouldn’t be her biggest ally going forward. “Yeah, if we even survive more than two days out here.” Natalie scoffed. Jackie turned to face her with a frown but she was already looking at the campfire, unbothered by her reaction.

Suddenly, a loud gasp shot everyone awake, followed by your heavy breathing and pained whimpers. Hour hands reached out desperately for something, or someone to hold. The sound of your teammates talking quoted and all you could hear was the fire sizzling. Before you knew it, Misty was crouched down beside you. “It’s okay, you’re okay!” She assured, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face. The others looked at her for a second; they hadn’t seen her act like this around the coach, or any of the others. She seemed so incredibly desperate to assure you, give you some kind of comfort.

“Where- where am I?” You exhaled. No answer.

She rested her palm upon your forehead to feel your temperature, a worried expression replacing the excitement she had felt at your awakening. “She’s burning up! Quick, get me some blankets or something!” She instructed and the others hurried to find something to keep you warm. They didn’t question her commands, she knew what she was doing. You huffed. It unsettled you slightly how she kept talking about you as if you weren’t there, especially not that you couldn’t see; it made you feel like some sick dog.

“Misty, I’m right here.. what happened?” You asked her. You attempted to sit up straight, but she pushed u back gently. “You should stay still for a bit – you broke a few bones here and there, but you’re gonna be okay.” She said. The others came with a few blankets and placed them over your cold, shivering body. Misty gave them a nasty glare, saying how this didn’t place it properly. She wrapped the layered blankets more securely around your body.

It eventually got dark, and everyone started preparing mattresses to sleep on. Misty stared at the night sky, the starts shining through the thick threes. She wished so badly that you could see it and share this moment with her. The fire was still burning, but she figured it was only a few minutes until it burned out. You couldn’t sleep, laying awake with your eyes open, hoping that suddenly your sight would come back. You had realized on your own that there was something wrong with your eyes, and judging by the silence whenever you’d ask about it, it was bad.

But now, you were starting to feel scared. All you could see was pitch black and now all you heard was animal sounds in the background. Without thinking it over, you called out for the girl.

“Misty?” She immediately looked at you again, “Yeah? What’s wrong?” She whispered. “Could you..” you muttered. You suddenly realized how pathetic you sounded. Fuck it, you thought. “Could you hold me?” You finally said. You were glad you couldn’t see, scared of what her face would be like at your sudden request. But she understood. “Of course.” Was all she said before carefully placing herself beside you.

She moved her arm around you and suddenly you felt so safe, comforted. The gesture was so small, yet you had been so touch starved. Your body stiffened at her touch at first, but warmed up to it quickly. You felt her curls against the side of your face, along with her forehead resting on your shoulder. You slowly fell asleep, forgetting all about what happened…

The girl lay awake for awhile, watching you. Just hours before this she was a complete loser. But now she felt like she had everything. She had always had a bit of a crush on you but always brushed it off as she figured you were too good for her. Everybody was not just happy, but grateful for her presence. It felt amazing, euphoric almost. She didn’t ever want to go back to reality, she needed to make sure nobody came to save you guys.

In her mind, the team could develop some kind of society here; a judge-free, high-school-free place. A whole new world where the two of you could be together, surrounded by your friends. Little did she know how things would turn out.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #misty quigley #quigley #jackie tyler #x reader #imagine #request

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yorshie · 1 year

Text

Ghastly Serenade

Red Dead Redemption 2

Arthur Morgan x GN Reader

Warnings/Summary: SFW, Who you gonna call when you're stuck out in Roanoke Ridge in the middle of the night with only Arthur to cuddle? That's right, no one, cuz you got Arthur

(old work from A03, just adding to Tumblr)

Roanoke Ridge was never a pleasant place to be, even more so at night. The eery forest, prone to fog and and mist thanks to the river and waterfall, was filled with strange noises and lights, whispers and weird unidentifiable animal noises. The locals were imbred and delusional, if mostly harmless to the occasional outsider, but the gang that roamed these haunted hills were the very epitome of vindictiveness and viciousness. Hell, They were the main reason the forest and ridge were haunted in the first place.

Needless to say, it was the last place you wanted to be stuck in, forced to camp under the trees north of Annesburg because the road flooded south of town. The campfire, though roaring, did little to dispel the gloom that pressed up against the edge of the light, as if the forest was biding its time until it could swallow the source of comfort whole and blot it out.

You shivered, scooted closer to the fire, and tried not flinch at every scrape and snuffle behind you, praying each sound was just a trick of the night.

“You cold?”

You glanced through the fire at Arthur, meeting his eyes before dropping your gaze back to the fire. “No.” You rubbed your palms up and down your bare forearms, trying vainly to get the fine hair there to lay flat.

A deep sigh, a shake of the head, and a huff of amusement were the answer to your claim. Your eyes snapped back up at the shuffle of feet.

Arthur had unbuckled his thick traveling cloak, revealing the thick bear fur lining the inside, and gestured with a jerk of his chin while holding it away from his body. You barely hesitated before scooting around the fire, pausing when you got near to eye him up and down, uncertain of what he wanted.

“I ain’t gonna bite, get in here.” His gruff voice, usually barking orders and delivering scathing rebukes, had softened to a rumble. His chin raised, far arm raising to balance his elbow on his knee while holding the edge of the coat. He waited, a little impatiently.

His movements had created a tiny cave of body and coat, and with one more quick glance to his face to gage his mood, you shifted closer and turned to give him your back, a tad disbelieving that Arthur Morgan would offer to share body heat with the newest member of the gang, someone he had barely spoken a handful of words to before Dutch had put them on this mission.

He was a big man, radiated warmth, but you still jumped when his arm reached out and pulled you further into his space, forcing you practically flushed against him as he wrapped the coat back around you two. While there was still a small opening at the front, it was almost stifling warm and the bear pelt sinfully soft, and you relaxed, burrowing your cheek against the thicker ridge of fur at the edge of the coat.

Arthur huffed behind you, waited a moment, then: “Didn’t think you’d be so jumpy.”

You told yourself it was the pop of a log breaking in the fire that made you start slightly, not the hot breath that curled around the nape of your neck or the deep voice in your ear. You felt completely surrounded by him, his barrel chest brushing against your shoulders with every breath, his thighs a line of warmth on either side of your hips. It didn’t help at all that he was probably the most attractive man you had ever met, even if his handsomeness was a little unconventional.

“I don’t like this forest.” Was all you said, head twisting around to check that the trees hadn’t moved while you let your guard down.

“It ain’t that bad.” A crack caused both your heads to turn to the right, and you pushed back into Arthur, suddenly needing just a little more assurance that Murphy Brood weren’t going to jump out from behind a tree and murder you to death.

Silence for a moment, and then Arthur shifted behind you, and you realized belatedly that his hand had dropped down to his gun. It rose back up to rest on his leg again, and you found a small chuckle stuck in your throat. You tried to beat it down, but it finally escaped in a hiccuping snort.

You felt Arthur lean forward a bit, saw his chin out of the corner of your eye. “Somethin funny?” His tone wasn’t hard, you had heard it utter those same words in a much deadlier tone, but you still hurried to explain.

“You, reachin for your gun to fight off ghosts.” You managed not to chuckle again, and brought your knees up close to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. The tips of your shoes still stuck out the safety of the coat, but if you shuffled any further backwards you’d be in Arthur’s lap.

Now it was his turn to snort. “I’ve seen a bunch of strange things, but I ain’t ever seen a ghost.” Another crack in the forest, and you both tensed. After a moment, Arthur grunted again, hand coming up to ruffle your hair and push you against his arm.

“Try and get some sleep, I’ll take first watch.”

Your muffled reply was lost in the bear pelt, but you closed your eyes and tried to relax, surprised at how easy it was to find sleep in the arms of a man you barely knew.

Everything about Arthur was a conundrum. When you had joined the gang four months ago, he had been the distant, angry sounding bear of a man that arrived early in the morning and departed at odd hours; scouting, hunting, robbing killing, anything that needed doing. You had stayed out of his way, jumped when you turned and found him too near, had always vacated the sitting area when he would plop down just a little too close.

While he had never said a mean word even in passing to you, you had seen him tear into Bill, Uncle, hell even John. The wit hidden in his tongue during these exchanges always struck you as odd given his portrayal of the big, bad, stupid enforcer he showed the outside world.

But then slowly, you started to see the kindness in him as well.

Whenever he approached the women of the camp, you heard his soft words and laughter, and their easy banter. Little Jack went out of his way to greet him when he was in camp, running up for a hug or to show him something interesting. The horses all raised their heads and nickered at his approach, ears pricked forward as though expecting a treat. It was those times that you saw under the hard exterior, to the softness he hid, and it was the only time you would admit he was handsome.

Though you no longer fled in his presence, you didn’t seek him out or purposefully put yourself in his way either. He was still too big of a man, too strong and too angry, even if he was handsome under all that gruff. He set you on edge, and though it was no longer in fear, old habits died hard.

Now though, wrapped up in his coat with his deep, even breaths behind you, you realized your defenses were crashing down, and there would be no avoiding him after this.

You woke, startled, some time later, breath heaving out of your chest at some unknown terror. The horses were stomping in fear, Arthur’s warhorse practically tearing out the stake that his master had driven into the ground to keep them on a line when they set up camp. The thick coat still hung from your shoulders, but Arthur’s heat was no longer pressed against your back. Instead you felt hard earth under your puddle of limbs in the too big coat. Your head popped up, alarmed at the apparent abandonment, and swallowed painfully as you looked for him.

The fire had sunken down a little, but enough light still glowed to show Arthur standing at the edge, turned slightly away from you to stare into the woods. His eyes flickered back when you shifted, and he held up a hand, face still and mouth pressed into a thin line. You realized with a start that he had drawn his revolver, the harsh click of the hammer loud in the still dark.

A whisper, your heart bounded up in your throat at the soft sound. Arthur shifted to face the direction it came from, hips and shoulders moving so he presented a smaller target, gun hanging easy at the side of his hip.

An answering whisper, this time almost a soft sigh, coming from the other direction, had you twisting in the coat to face it, vainly trying to scoot away. Arthur tensed, but stayed facing the first threat, though he clicked his tongue softly to get your attention. When you glanced at him, he jerked his chin at the coat, and you quickly patted down the pockets, not really surprised to find the thick leather sheath of an extra hunting knife stashed within.

The cold blued blade brought you a little comfort, but you still stayed low instead of standing to face the unknown, not wanting to get in Arthur’s line of fire.

You both waited in the silence, your nerves rising with every little noise while Arthur’s shoulders stayed loose and calm, and distantly you wondered at all the ‘weird stuff’ he had seen, that whispers in the woods barely fazed him.

Whispered sigh and a hiccuped sob, definitely a feminine sound, came from the direction Arthur was facing.

The blood drained from your face when no one stepped out from the trees, and even Arthur took two steps back, moving closer to where you were now crouched with the knife unsheathed.

Seconds, then minutes passed, and you let out a little breath, hands readjusting their clammy grip on the knife. The dirt scuffed under Arthur’s boots as he turned slowly to check their surroundings, eyes flickering in the firelight.

Without warning the whisper sounded again, soft sighs changing to clear words just beyond the edge of the campfire light.

“What’s that terrible noise?”

Arthur let out a surprised grunt, and you flew to your feet, coming up to stand beside him. He threw out an arm and corralled you further behind him, as if he could offer a barrier.

The other whisper had you both spinning in place, Arthur’s hand keeping you from spilling in the dirt when the heavy coat tripped you up.

“Must be a sick calf, lookin for its momma,” the male answer slowly moved around you, as if the speaker was circling the campsite. “They’ve been known to bawl like that.” The southern drawl, loose and liquid on vowels and long on the end of words, dissipated into laughter that got closer to where you stood, kicking up a breeze that blew in your face.

You were pressed against Arthur now, the knife held out threateningly in front of you as if to ward off an attack. Arthur suddenly scoffed, limbs shaking out like a bull swatting flies before he shoved you behind him again, angrily taking a step forward.

“Whoever that is, you got three seconds to come out.” To be fair, that deadly rumbled crack of anger in his voice would have sent anyone sane scurrying away, not stepping out into the light. All it served, however, was a honed location for the whispers to converge.

The next words came from directly in front of Arthur, and you tugged on the back of his shirt, trying vainly to back him away from the sinister sound. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” the feminine whisper sounded fondly irritated at the two of you, but the male whisper only laughed again, this time from behind where you stood, causing you to quickly step forward into Arthur.

He started as your face mashed against his shoulder blades, and you felt the material dampen slightly under your lips as you breathed out harshly, certain at any moment spectral hands would reach out and grab you.

“I need to get back home.” There was the woman again, sounding close to tears, right in your ear. You made an aborted strangled noise of pure fear, clamping onto Arthur with a death grip that had him cursing.

His gun raised abruptly, and you peered under his arm, mouth going dry. There was a shadow at the edge of the light, just barely swaying behind a tree.

“I need to get back home,” you tore your eyes from the shadow, watching as the firelight flickered, the flames leaping for one second and then sputtering out, leaving you both to the gloom of the forest.

“Arthur,” your whisper was soft, a bare thread of sound, but he still heard, his free hand coming around to grab your arm, solid and warm.

“please, help me.” When you looked again, the shadow was gone, and the fire crackled into life once more. The warm light seemed to spring at the shadows, driving their long trendies back into the forest to wait for the next unwary travelers.

Arthur waited a moment, then holstered his revolver, long legs quickly moving to the horses to calm them both. He stomped on the stake to drive it back into the ground, and only then turned to look at you, eyes wide.

It almost looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped several times. Finally, you opened your arms, a poor parody of the comfort he had offered earlier in the night.

He took it though, curled up behind you again, shuffled forward until there was no space between you. You shivered at the cold still clinging to his clothes, but turned halfway and forced your head into the dip of his collarbone, uncaring that it was too forward for someone you barely knew.

“I hate this goddamn forest,” was all he said.

#red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan red dead #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic

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rhythm-of-space · 11 months

Text

just want to wake up next to josh on a semi-deflated air mattress inside a tent covered in leaves and dew. he'd smell like moss and bug spray, his skin soft and warm from being covered in blankets throughout the night.

want to watch as he cooks breakfast over the campfire, it all coming so natural to him even out in the wilderness amongst the trees. he'd finish up as the birds start to chirp and the mist from the morning has settled, letting the sun rays cast through the brush making everything golden.

how he'd offer up activities for the day. kayaking, nature walks, taking a dip in the lake, but always ending up in the hammock by midday and drifting off tangled up together.

want to laugh and sing and talk about what's on his mind as the sun starts to set and the fire dwindles. to gaze up at the stars until his eyes flutter from drowsiness and then do it all again the next day.

it's the need to get away for a bit. turn off and slow down before all the craziness starts again. to just breathe.

#I need to go camping like I need air #my comfort zone #josh kiszka #just a thought<3

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sparkagrace · 1 year

Text

14th February by @sparkagrace

steve x bucky | G | 810 words tags: ca:tfa, established relationship, valentine's day, secret relationship fills: @allcapsbingo: I5: promises | monthly mission: secret valentines

It's not the Valentine's either of them had planned for, but the one thing they've learned is that there's very little they can control in the middle of a war. Nevertheless, Bucky wants to do something to mark the occasion now that he and Steve will be spending it together, even if it's the the middle of the forest a stone's throw away from Paris.

It could still be romantic.

The idea comes to him when he spots a cameo necklace in an old antique shop. He doesn't have enough money, but through a series of well-thought trades (his cigarette rations and coffee) he manages to secure it before they move out of the city.

It's hard to find time alone once they make camp, but when it's just him and Steve by the campfire while the rest of the Howlies are out on an evening patrol, he pulls out the necklace hastily wrapped in brown paper and string and shyly hands it to Steve.

"It's for you," he says, somewhat redundantly. He can't watch as Steve carefully - even with those new big fingers - unwraps the package and peeks into the box. "Happy Valentine's."

Steve doesn't say anything, maybe for a full minute, but eventually he manages to find his words.

"Like my ma's."

"Yeah, like hers. I know it's not exactly the same, but-"

Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's lips: impulsive and quick, but still solid and true.

"Thank you. She made me promise never to lose it and now it's in some box in New York..." Steve worries his lip and Bucky knows that feeling of missing home. Of wondering if they'll ever make it back. Wondering if it'll still be home if they do.

"When we get home, we'll make sure to keep it safe. 'Til then you can have this one," Bucky assures as he takes hold of Steve's free hand and squeezes gently.

Steve nods and grins, a kiss pressed to their joined hands. Then he untangles and reaches for his pack, rooting through the contents until a small stack of letters appears.

"I may have taken advantage of my new rank to pull some strings," he confesses, handing Bucky the stack. "They got here last week and holding onto them has been killing me. I wanted to wait until today."

Bucky recognises Becca's handwriting instantly. Her girly loops on that expensive correspondence set that he had gifted her when she turned eighteen three years ago. When things were different.

The letters are thicker than the ones he's used to receiving, but when he opens it, it's easy to understand why. There's photographs folded into each of the notes from his parents, Becca, even his grandparents. Some of the photographs are older: a family portrait they took on his twenty-first birthday, him and Steve as kids, Sarah Rogers on her last Thanksgiving with the Barneses... precious memories of a life that he's been missing.

There's a handful of new photographs too. There's the Christmas just gone with their grandparents - older now but still there, still safe. There's also a picture of Becca with an hand looped around the arm of a tall guy, and Bucky makes a face at Steve as if to ask 'who is this?'

"I asked her to send some stuff over that you might like. I made her promise not to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise."

So this is why Becca's last letters were so short. She was keeping all the big updates for Steve's gift.

He tries reading the enclosed letters, but he only makes out half a sentence ("...hope Steve is keeping you safe like he promised...") before his eyes mist over and he knows it's too much to read right now when the Howlies could come back at any minute. He'll read them tonight before bed so he can concentrate. So that he and Steve can share in the messages written to them (because they've always been a them and he knows Becca would be writing to Steve as much as to him).

"Thank you for doing this for me," he chokes out. "I love you."

Steve clutches the cameo necklace in his hand as if to express the same sentiment.

"Next year we'll be back home. I'll make you candlelit dinner," Steve promises. "That'd be nice for Valentine's, huh?"

"Yeah, Stevie. That'll be real nice."

They both look up when they hear a twig snap somewhere and Dum-Dum's gruff voice approaching. Bucky tucks the letters away in his jacket and Steve safely deposits the cameo in his pack.

The rest of the night is spent around a campfire and among good friends, but Bucky catches Steve's gaze a few times, photos and letters from loved ones nestled against his chest, and feels his heart warm and safe.

It's not such a terrible way to spend a Valentine's Day.

#steve x bucky #stucky fic #stucky #all caps bingo #stucky moodboard #ficlet #my fic #ca:tfa #queued

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