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feyascorner · 4 months

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Ok but what if tav is the hero of baldurs gate right, the god killer, slayer of the chosen three, savior of the emerald grove etc etc and after all that is told they had this incurable illness that the parasite had only slowed down. Now, with it gone, it’s progressing again and Tav can’t help but feel so stupid, weak even, that such a mighty hero could be struck by the weaknesses of their own body

Maybe pushes everyone away when they find out, too afraid to tell them that after everything they’ve been through after surviving all of that that they were going to die anyways

AND THEN ASTARIONS REACTION!!! Because surely he would not take that news sitting down (if he found out at all)

a/n. anon how did you know this type of prompt is exactly my cup of tea <33

It's not fair.

You did everything right. You saved the grove, the Tieflings, the Druids, the gnomes, the city, and even those who did not deserve saving, you always came to their aid. You've slayed gods, mind flayers, githyanki, even a bloody elder brain. And now, finally, after so long, with the brain having been defeated, and nothing but pure bliss occupying your headspace, you think you finally have time to relax.

Instead, you're reeled over the bathroom sink, eyes blurry from how much your body seems hellbent on making you miserable.

Ah, you remember. No matter what you've done for others, no matter what you've sacrificed, you're reduced to nothing but a sick patient. One that has no hope for a cure.

The months spent with little to do with your illness has left it to come back tenfold, and now all you can do is grovel on the bathroom floor, head in your hands as you understand that this is all you were meant to amount to. In the end, you were always destined to rot away by yourself and succumb to this gods forsaken disease. You are no hero. This is what you truly are---the pitiful remains of someone who longed for more.

The weeks following the defeat of the elder brain are filled with mournful streets for those who lost their lives and the joyous laughter of those who live on for them. Celebration--though it's difficult with half the taverns having collapsed in the battle--is not out of the ordinary. Strangers and friends alike come together every night, singing praises to whichever gods they worship. Your companions are no exception.

But each and every time, you deny their offers. You've become quite skilled at making up excuses about feeling tired, about having errands to run, or having loose ends to tie up. In reality, you're a coward. Despite the trust they put in you, you cannot provide it back--not in matters like this. Not when you've all been through so much, just for your own journey to amount to nothing.

It's not like you haven't known about this disease. You knew your death was imminent. But now, after experiencing just a fraction of what life has to offer, you no longer want to let go.

It's just not fair.

For what seems to be the millionth time this week, you hear someone knock at your door. Whichever one of your companions it is, you don't bother taking a step from your bed, face still planted into your sheets. You don't have the energy to move, and the useless healing herbs scattered across the room don't exactly hide your secret. So instead of standing, you bury your face deeper into your bed.

"You can't stay in there forever."

You flinch as you realize it's a voice you've dreaded hearing. One that invokes so much love yet fear as you remember that if you see him right now, it might be your last. And you don't want that. Not at all.

"I don't know what we've done to make you push us away like this," he says through the door, and your fist tightens in front of your chest. "But this is getting ridiculous, darling. You have to come out eventually."

You remain silent.

"Gods, just--" he stops, and you can hear the hesitance in his voice. You swear it almost cracks a little. "--Have I done something wrong?"

At this, you're suddenly on your feet, rushing to push yourself against the door, but unwilling to open in. "No, Astarion, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't you dare think that way."

You can hear him shift. "Then why do you avoid me? The others, I can understand, but me?...I mean, I thought we were more than that..."

"We are, it's just..."

"Just what?"

The final thread of your resolve snaps, and you reach toward your lock. Your hand falters for a moment, but you eventually open the door slowly. And if the way his face falls tells you anything, you must look absolutely dreadful.

"Oh, my sweet, what's happened to you?" he whispers, his eyes widening even more when he sees the mess of your home behind you. The clothes all over the floor, the blinds shut despite there being no sunlight to shield from, the healing potions and herbs messily tossed around...you'd feel ashamed if you weren't so tired already.

"...Are you sick?" he steps inside, taking his time to take in the state of what you call home. When you don't answer, he whips around to you, alarmed. "You're sick. Is it a cold? Flu?"

You shake your head, sick of having to lie to the one person you don't want to deceive. "It's a long story."

"I'm undead, darling. I have all the time in the world."

"It's not a very nice story."

"If I wanted a nice story, I'd be listening to a bard someplace else," he says, and you feel your eyes bubble with tears as he steps closer. "What's happened?"

The words spill out like vomit, and you're soon telling him what's been weighing on you for so long. You find yourself sliding down to the ground, and he goes with you, letting you grasp desperately at the sleeves of his shirt while you tell him everything. You can barely breathe with how fast your talking but you're afraid you won't say everything if you get any slower. The entire time, he just stares at you, his arms circled around you, and only when you're done does his gaze finally flicker.

"...Surely, there must be a cure." He's suddenly glancing around the entire room, at pieces of herbs. "Surely, at least one of these would--"

"None of them work, Astarion."

"Then we can find the finest healers in the city--we can even go back to that damn druid, and ask him."

"I've tried."

"Well, you haven't tried hard enough, obviously, if you haven't found a bloody cure!"

You give him one hard look--one with dark bags under your eyes and a weariness that stretches on for weeks--and his temper seems to cool. His shoulders slump, but he reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just felt so weak," you whisper. "I didn't want you to think that too."

Immediately, his eyes harden, and he takes both sides of your face in his hands. "No. I don't think you're weak, and that's not going to change. You've proven yourself more than I can count, and I know you enough to know that you can't let it end like this, love. You can't leave like this."

"Astarion..."

He shakes his head. "I won't let this take you from me. There have been too many opportunities for us to lose each other, and we've overcome them all. We'll just do it again. We'll go to the most skilled healers in Faerun. We'll go to all of them if we have to, and we'll start tomorrow."

You can feel yourself tear up again, and he kisses your tears away while you sob in his arms.

"I'll save you," he mumbles against your temple. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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dragonsholygrail · 5 months

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Brighter Than The Sun

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: I have no idea if this was a prompt I saw somewhere or if this was completely out of my brain, the idea was from months ago and I finally got around to writing it.

summary: With the parasite no longer in your brains, Astarion can no longer go into the sun. You try everything you can think of to help him experience the same heat but with no luck. Until you think to use yourself as a means for Astarion to feel the suns warmth once more.

word count: 1.7k

From the shadows he watches you, his red eyes almost gleaming and noticeable through the darkness. He stands behind the door, watching you, waiting for you… He needs you and yet he knows you need to stay away, if only for a little while longer. Long enough to get what he wants.

Astarion stands behind the door of the home you two share together in Baldur's Gate. With the parasite long gone and his ascension a trickle of a memory, Astarion has long since been unable to walk in the sun. It spurns him once more as if his mask had been unveiled and even the sun could see what he truly was. While on the other hand, darkness has greeted him back like an old friend and he remains cursing it.

More than anything he yearns to once more see the color in the world, to feel its warmth on his cold skin. But even after years of searching, he feels as though you two aren’t any closer to finding a cure, from ridding him of the curse forced upon him so long ago. Even so, his mind stays focused on the task and it touches him deeply that it remains in yours as well.

Which is what has brought along today’s events. When reality had first set in, Astarion couldn’t ever explain the despair he felt toward never being able to feel the sun’s warmth again. But he didn’t have to explain. He knew you understood, he knew you saw him for all he was. You have for probably much longer than he gave you credit for. Always the one to try and fix things, Astarion wasn’t surprised when you tried thinking of clever ways he’d be able to feel the sunlight again. You had tried creating the hottest of fires and yet it didn’t feel the same. Nothing ever felt the same. Astarion had given up and urged you to do the same. He should’ve known you well enough by now to know that wasn’t something you were capable of.

So this morning when you began guiding him toward the door, Astarion briefly questioned if he was being led to his demise. If you had finally gotten tired of him and decided to end it all. Of course you hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Who’d ever get tired of him, after all… He only resisted briefly until you ended up explaining your entire plan to him. To have you stand in the sun and then shut the door and hug him. So that way, he may once again feel the heat of the sun against warm flesh.

Astarion’s heart swelled, lips parted as he struggled to react and while he still couldn’t quite express his gratitude and affections out loud, he knew he could show you them through his actions and it would always mean just as much. He may have thought the plan ridiculous, silly even, but it was your attempt that moved him. The way you never gave up on him. Now here you two are, you out in the sun as he lurks in the depths of the shadows. Astarion’s lips part as he watches you bask in the sunlight's rays, your eyes closed and a soft smile on your face.

Whilst always beautiful, Astarion remains even more assured that you are most beautiful in the sun. His feelings toward you both similar in the weight you hold in his heart. His eyes trial over your form, looking on as the sunlight highlights your complexion, the sun shimmering across your skin. The way it flickers off of you, making you appear even more brighter and full of life. Astarion watches it all, his attentions never having been more focused. He couldn’t dare look away from you and miss a moment of this.

You were so close and yet so far and as Astarion looked upon your beauty, memories from before starts flooding through his mind of him out there with you. Astarion couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out to you. He didn’t think, too caught up in how much he wanted you near. Not because of the sun but simply because you were you.

As his hand falls into a faint sliver of sun, instead of the comforting warmth he has shamefully become accustomed to, the familiar burning radiates across his skin. The sound of his skin sizzling rang in the quiet air and instead of peace the sun now brings panic, causing Astarion to release a high-pitched hiss. You jump, opening your eyes and looking over at him as Astarion quickly draws his hand back. You take a step to him but he uses that same hand to motion for you to stop.

“No! Don’t come closer. Just stay out there… for a little while longer,” Astarion pleads, brows furrowing deeply. It wasn’t until this moment, this instant where he’s reminded of the pain the sun has the power to inflict upon him, that he thinks your once silly idea may actually be important.

“Astarion-“ You try, tilting your head, eyes on his crackling hand that already starts to heal itself. But it’s one shake from his head that has you quieting. The softness in his gaze that has you stopping from stepping into his darkness. You look over him before giving a tentative nod. Your body turns back toward the sun within the space of the open door, but your eyes occasionally flicker over to him.

His fingers press into the flesh as it returns to its original smooth texture, the only trace of it being the faint throbbing that was already starting to fade too. As Astarion stares at you as you stand in the one place he could not reach you, despair flowers in his chest like a plague. You two are so different. While dealing with the parasite, while able to walk into the sun, Astarion could simply ignore it, not think about it because there were so many other important things to think about. Could push their differences aside in order to use you, then eventually love you.

But all that was gone now. You could walk in the day while he was stuck in the shadows. Even while only inches away, to Asatrion, it was like he could see an invisible barrier set between you both. A force that stops him from being with you, touching you. Something he could never cross so long as he was like this— a vampire spawn.

He was not good for you, he knew. All this time, Astarion allowed himself to be greedy, convinced himself that you need him as much as he needs you. But his love was doing exactly what the dark was doing to him. Trapping you. He was sure that if your heart wasn’t so big, you’d be out in the sun more often. Like you deserved.

Then you did the most peculiar thing. In a flash, you were closing the door, objecting yourself to the dark, and you reach for him. One hand wrapping around his waist as the other grips the nape of his neck. Both use their strength to pull him into you. Before Astarion can process what’s happening, you’re hugging him.

Warmth radiates off your skin and spreads over his. You guide Astarion’s head into your neck, letting him feel all the heat the sun left on you. Now, after this time being with him, Astarion doesn’t hesitate to hug you back. His arms wrap around you firmly as he exhales a shaky breath.

“I could feel you thinking from all the way over there,” your smooth voice washes over him, making warmth spread within him as well as across his body. He burrows closer to you, soaking up everything your skin was offering. He could imagine the fierce sun and how it must have felt upon first contact. But somehow, when it was you providing it instead of the sun, it was better. So much better.

He finally had you in his arms and the fog that moments prior were tormenting him now clear away. As you imply, he was thinking too much. He was spiraling and second guessing himself and even worse, you. He knows that you would never truly do something you didn’t want. You wouldn’t be with him unless it’s what you wanted. He didn’t have the power to trap you and he would never want it. While he can’t deny your differences, he also can’t say they’re a bad thing. He likes that you’re not the same person. Although, Astarion would dare say he’d make a lovely suitor for himself if the chance arose.

“What ever are you talking about, darling?” Releasing a light-hearted chuckle along with the question. Astarion’s hand brushes along your neck as well, the skin feeling even warmer here. Everything in him tells him to hide his feelings, to brush them aside and offer a short quip. While he knows he’ll end up telling you everything later, right now he can’t help but evade the vulnerability that was controlling him.

“Oh, I must be seeing things, then,” you tease right back, understanding Astarion and playing along with it. Astarion closes his eyes, gratefulness filling his body and pouring out in his physical contact with you.

“Hmm, must get that checked out,” he shoots back, not able to stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. You both end up laughing together and the peace that spreads through the atmosphere around you two reminds him why he never ends up keeping anything from you anymore. He learned his lesson once before.

The two of you fall into a peaceful silence as you remain hugging in the darkness. Your skin quickly grows colder again, losing what your time in the sun left you with. Even so, neither of you step away from the hug.

“You know, out of all the ways you’ve attempted to give me back sunlight, I have to say, this is by far my favorite,” Astarion admits, moving to rest his forehead against yours. The warmth he feels with you blazes hotter than any sun could ever supply him. He hears as your heart picks up and your neck once again becomes warmer than the rest of your body. Astarion does not hold back his grin, informing you of his awareness, yet remains still as he enjoys what he can get.

Astarion keeps you close as he realizes that any lack of sun is worth it when he gets moments like this in return.

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muntitled · 4 months

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𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡

Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader I Brief!Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: you ought to not be surprised by Farleigh's constant cheating. You should, instead, use his greatest adversary to get back at him.

Warnings: Language, Dark fic, Mentions of Violence, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Drug Use, Smut (+18), Public Sex, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dub/Con, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Threats, Rough Sex, Sadism, Masochism, Dry Humping, Orgasm Denial,Cervix fucking, Dom!Oliver, Subspace, Corruption Kink, Humiliation,

This film opened my brain and spilled out everything inside.

𖤓

Because neither you nor Farleigh had ever been modest about your relationship, Oliver was made privy to every single bit of it. You both were so indiscreet and so hellbent on showing everyone else that you were together, it felt as if Oliver lived in your skin.

Whenever you and Farleigh cuddled drunkenly, Oliver was made privy. Whenever you and Farleigh exchanged sexually charged glances across the dinner table, Oliver was made privy. Whenever Farleigh was touch-starved and sank his claws around your throat, Oliver, always skulking in the background, was made privy. Whenever you two fucked. He was there.

Oliver could hear the two of you eating each other alive during a majority of his stay at Saltburn so he should be used to this behavior by now.

“What a slut,” Farleigh's words are wrapped in humid sweat, with his hands locked firmly around your throat, “What a good fucking slut.”

Oliver, having just decided to take a midnight stroll, watches from the shadows as Farleigh takes you right there in the courtyard. He may not particulary fond of Farleigh, still Oliver had to applaud that he at least had the decency to ravage you in secret. Oliver remains watching, not because it gives him any sexual gratification, but only because he did not imagine your sex lives to be this visceral… certainly not this animalistic.

“You are fucking filth, you know that?” Farleigh asks, rutting into you with your back pressed against a stone surface. Instead of your eyes fluttering shut, you were gazing over Farleigh's shoulder, staring straight ahead at the shadow skulking in the darkness.

Oliver held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep your mouth shut.

You watch each other as Farleigh fucks into you, continuing his words of mindless praise. “Gorgeous fucking filth-” and you both cum at that. Farleigh with his eyes shut, and you, with your mouth hanging open and your gaze stationed on Oliver.

Before this exact moment, Felix was the only thing that existed in Oliver's whole wide world. He did not notice you, but never ever think that he was not aware of you. In fact, as far as Oliver knew, you held no standing of any official significance in Saltburn.

Beyond, of course, being Farleigh's overcompensated whore.

You were almost as inescapable as Farleigh, but not nearly as annoying and for the most part, you played the role of a good little girl, forever glued to her unfaithful boyfriend’s side.

These are the thoughts that pollute Oliver’s mind as he drifts through the vibrancy of his own party, having left the maze and Felix's limp body in it.

Oliver's feet, clad in all-too-expensive Italian leather only seem to weigh him down as he drifts aimlessly through the egregious castle. Neon lights spill over a carpet stitched with cocaine and he has to fight the urge not to shove past the drunken bodies congesting his pathway.

For the longest time, Oliver was convinced that you were one of them: These people disguised as parasitic waste dancing underneath the moonlight, celebrating his supposed birthday. Instead, Oliver finds you here, taking up space in the Blue Room with your figure helplessly draped over the bed.

Your form is reminiscent of The Nightmare. One of Oliver’s most beloved paintings, reason being, because it was so unequivocally dreadful. He watches you as he would The Nightmare.

Your eyes are wet and your body is wracking with pitiful sobs into your forearm. Ollie may not be good at emotions but he can tell you're distraught- like one of Fuseli's girls.

Soon, the whole thing becomes too uncomfortable to watch and he clears his throat as he says,

“Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here.”

“Oh-Ollie!”

Your shoulders shoot up, and you nearly jump off the bed in apparent fright. Your eyes are wide saucers and your skin is dark in the moonlight. Ollie has to resist the urge to lick his lips.

He wanted to fucking eat you alive.

“Fuck, did I scare you?” He hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller than he usually was. “My apologies.” He had to appease you somehow in your startled state and you You quick to press a shaky palm to your cheeks, utterly devestated to find the surface of your skin wet and salty.

Out of all the parasites in this nest, you were the least bloodthirsty.

“How utterly embarrassing,” you coo, before wiping furiously away at your cheeks.

Sensing the perfect opening, Oliver steps over the threshold, polluting the space, as he did the rest of Saltburn, with his presence alone.

“Where'd you come from?” You ask before sitting up at the edge of the bed.

“Murdering my best friend.” Oliver answers cooly, with his wooden horns silhouetted by the moonlight.

As he creeps closer the moonlight highlights the crevices of your face and Ollie is able to capture the smile that cracks across your visage. He loves that.

You are so deliciously routine.

“Understandable,” you calmly shoot back, “Sometimes I could just fucking kill Farleigh myself.”

How curious. You thought he was joking.

“That's why you were crying, then?” Ollie asks, as he skulks about the Blue Room. He glides his finger across the dusty mantle before turning his eyes back to you, “You were crying because of Farleigh?”

He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

Your glittery brows curve again above your puffy eyes, just as your lips protrude into a shaky pout. Fuck he was so painfully hard.

“You'd rather eat glass than hear about my common relationship problems,” you chuckle, fighting back a sob.

“I'd rather eat glass than get back to that stupid party.” And his eyes are so genuine, you immediately believe him. “You'd be saving me, he says, before finally planting himself down on the bed beside you. “Promise.”

“Not much to tell honestly,” You shrug, causing the left string of your cocktail dress to fall off your shoulder. You leave it there. “ You know how Farleigh can be... He has somewhat of a-”

“-Communal penis?” Ollie interjects, “Fucking anything and everything that even vaguely gives him the time of day?”

“Exactly!” and before you know it, you're giggling in the dark with a stranger. “I get tested for STD's like I'm a fucking invalid-”

“The sexiest fucking invalid I've ever come across.” He's closer now. Close enough to tell you've been drinking.

With your eyes trained on his full lips, a thought strikes you suddenly. "Happy birthday, Ollie.” That is enough to snap his gaze up from your exposed collarbone, and up to your big, round eyes. He does not respond for several seconds, promtpting you with the devestaing thought that you might have struck some unforseen nerve.

“H-ave I upset you?” You ask in such genuine concern and naivete, it nearly causes Oliver to cum in his fucking pants. He needed to defile you so badly. He needed you to cry around his cock. He just needed you-

“'Course not," Oliver clears his throat before unclenching and clenching his wired fist, "It's just-you're the first person that's said that to me all night.” Your eyes are hazy now, with your brain having caught on to the very daunting fact that you're in a room with someone who perhaps has other intentions. He is leaning in before slithering his calloused hand on your thigh. Never ever do you move away. Never ever do you tell him off.

“I find that hard to believe-” your bones are rattling as the warmth of his palm spreads to the inside of your steadily opening thighs. “Surely Felix must've said-”

“Fuck fucking Felix- the world doesn't revolve around him!” You're corralled into silence, with this man steadily pushing you back against the bed. “We don't need to talk about Felix,” he looks absolutely ravenous as the tips of his fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

It's so blatantly filthy, you cannot help but arch your back off the bed and press yourself further against his fingers. “F-Fuck… Ollie-” your breathing is laboured and Ollie watches utterly mesmerised by the way your hips move against his hand.

“I h-heard something about you-”

“What did you hear?” asks Oliver before pulling down your soaked underwear.

“That you don't care about fucking on menses.” You say, awaiting a response but getting none because Oliver stuffs his face between your legs. He's eating you out with absolute fervour, with his nose bumping periodically against your clit.

“Where'd you hear that?” He mumbles against your cunt.

He did not expect to be so utterly taken by you. This is wholly unexpected.

“A certain bottled blonde- FUCK- J-Just like that- please, God, please-”

He only pulls away, only to shrug off his blazer. With his horns and his cock indenting against his pants, he looks absolutely terrifying, that only has you rutting in the air helplessly.

“You mean Venetia is not a real blonde?” He asks before shoving his face in between your legs once more, “I feel betrayed.” The sarcasm drips from his tongue. The same tongue that slithers out his mouth to lick hurriedly against your cunt. He suctions his lips against your hole, as if he wanted to taste inside you.

“I didn't fuck her-” He pants, before pushing his nose against your cunt, “I didn't fuck her all the way- FUCKING BITCH-” Sharp pain bleeds from his scalp because your fingers and its acrylics are buried in his hair now.

“G-God, yes, Ollie-” you're actively rubbing your cunt against his face, absolutely using him to get off. Almost immediately, Oliver immediately decides that won't do.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks, before pinching your clit causing you to still your movements completely. Your torso is wracking with sweat and your nipples pierce through the softness of your dress.

“O-Ollie P-please-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks before removing his face from your cunt all together. You try desperately, to hold your moan, but the sight of him crawling up your torso seems enough to almost have you cumming untouched.

You fight against it. You fight against the warmth in the pits of your stomach, you fight against the urge to hump mindlessly into the air until your cunt creates friction with… something. You fight hard.

His breath is warm against your face, but never once do you look away.

“I use you,” he whispers before slithering a hand around your throat.

He squeezes.

“And I'd fucking die before I ever let it be the other way around.” He squeezes and squeezes until you're tapping furiously against his palm.

“Look at how gorgeous you look when you're not being a filthy fucking whore.” You can't help it. Your hips immediately buck up into nothing despite your shortness of breath. You're clawing at his wrists, hoping he'd ease his grip but Oliver does nothing of the sort. In fact, he only moans at the sight of your eyes sinking to the back of your head-

“Fucking, fuck-” He curses, before quickly undoing the vexing buttons of his pants. “Bloody disgusting,” he says, watching the drool ease out your mouth, “You are bloody disgusting-” he sinks into you the very moment he eases his hand away from your throat. You're gulping generously at the air as Oliver slaps against your cheeks, bringing you back to the land of the living.

“There she is,” he punctuates his sentence with a violent thrust, “There she fucking is-”

Pleasure and pain shoot through every channel of your body until you can't even decipher the two. “OH MY FUCKING GOD-”

“I love when you call me that, baby,” He mumers with his eyelids heavy, “I fucking love when you call me that, with your pretty fucking voice, you USELESS fucking bitch-”

It is absolutely sick and absolutely deranged. Every other word that skates out of his mouth is a contradiction of the last and you're utterly frightened of the beast taking you so roughly.

“You're taking it so well-” he whispers, before letting his hand squeeze your nipples through your dress, “Your cunt is taking my cock so fucking well, baby- Fuck-” when the head of his cock presses to that sensitive pillowy plushness, you're wailing in the dark like a banshee. Wanting to push him off of you, but not wanting the pleasure to end. Your struggle only brings him closer and closer to edge.

“I-Is that your fucking cervix, baby- Fuck-”

“Oh God- Ollie.”

He nods, “Now you're gonna cum for me, yeah? You're gonna cum for me and you're gonna think about your stupid cunt of a boyfriend. How he doesn't fuck you like I do-” your orgasm has already started to trickle in and your hips lift up to collide with his, “Tell me- Tell me you can't fucking live without me-” He says, “I need it to cum, tell me, tell me-”

“I need you, Ollie.” His lips stutter open, just as his thrusts become shallower and shallower “I need you to fucking live, Ollie-”

“FUCK- oh fucking fuck-” his spunk fills your insides, just as the entirety of your orgasm washes over you and you immediately realize that you're crying. You're crying because everything feels so good. Oliver has completely strummed you to orgasm. He has moulded your body into everything he needs it to be.

“I fucking use you.” He says, “Not the other way around.”

#saltburn #saltburn x reader #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n

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ancuninfiles · 1 month

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Comfort

Screenshot by @astarionposting

5.6k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Tav - 18+

Summary: Nym, a wood-elf, finds herself thrust into leadership of a ragtag crew. From day one she is overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility. She seeks solace and unexpectedly finds herself drawn to the tent of a pale elf. In the intimacy of their encounter, they both ponder the potential for mutual comfort and connection amidst the chaos of their new journey. ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ Oneshot turned into a multi-chaptered work. I changed her name from Tav to Nym bc I am becoming attached to her and she needs a proper name. Pronounced "Nim"

Tags: Smut and Fluff, Druid Tav, Tav has catgirl vibes, Soft Astarion, P in V sex, Oral (female receiving), Wood elf Tav, Blood drinking, Vampire bites, Choking, Light BDSM, Enthusiastic consent, Soft dom Astarion, Tav is autism-coded, Romantic Comedy, Creampie, Aftercare, Realizations of feelings, Astarion is a dork

I changed Tav's name to Nym (Nim)

Read on AO3 (recommended)

Read part 2

It was a brisk night in Faerün. She had acquired allies that had also been infected with Mind Flayer parasites today. It was day 1 of this bullshit and they already had chosen her to be their leader for some reason. It was too much pressure. She already had a hard enough time deciding what to eat for breakfast, let alone make life-or-death decisions. She started getting a headache just thinking about how overwhelming all this was, and she wasn't sure if it was maybe partially caused by the literal worm in her fucking brain.

"Silvanus, save me." She whispered a quiet prayer to herself in her tent.

Nym started to think of what she usually does when she is stressed out.

- Make tea (Shit, we have no tea, at least not the ones I am willing to drink from the woods in this region.)

- Take a warm bath (Well, there was the cold Chionthar. Getting cold and wet before bed was an idiotic idea.)

- Read a book (We have no books at camp yet, better add it to my Gods forsaken shopping list.)

Nym groaned in frustration. 'What else what else what else!? Come on, think.'

Nym remembered that when she was growing up, Wild Shaping into a cat would often provide her comfort in trying times. She was able to cozy up in tight places like baskets and tree stumps. Nobody would ask anything of her or disturb her.

If she Wild Shaped into a cat right now and hung out a bit outside of camp, she doubts her new-found "friends" would go looking for her. They just met and there is no way they are on that level. If she disappeared right now forever, they probably wouldn't even think about her ever again. Perfect. She just needed to slink away for an hour or so to decompress without the threat of the companions asking her for instruction or expecting her to have a fucking plan.

Nym stepped out about 30 meters into the woods, wearing sandals and trying to avoid getting twigs stuck between her toes. She needs to avoid having a meltdown and ripping her hair out for at least long enough to get into her cat form.

"ERRG" She fumed. Sap managed to get into her sandals and it was sending her teetering over the edge.

She transformed in a rage into a fluffy white cat with green eyes and a pink nose. Suddenly her hearing had improved. One thing she forgot about her cat form was that everything was much louder. Usually, the sounds of nature would help calm her, but right now, everything was setting her off. She could practically feel the sound of the wind bristling through the trees.

Her clothes remained in a pile on the forest floor. She stepped out of them with grace and then started making her way back to camp. Surely none of her companions would find it strange that a cat was hanging out at camp. They would probably just assume she was looking for scraps or hunting for fish down by the river.

She arrived at the tree line and saw that everyone was either at their tents or in their tents. Good. She started walking to the fire, past the pale elf's red fancy tent. She couldn't remember his name. 'Aster? Asherion? Hmm.' She pondered. He was slightly threatening but mostly cute. He seemed to have a handful of sardonic quips in his arsenal. Locked and loaded, ready to fire whenever the tension needed to be broken. She always adored people like that. Those types of people were always good to have around, especially when she found herself often being embarrassed in social situations, falling silent and not knowing what to say. Gods it helps having someone silly with a dark sense of humour to just be idiots with. She hoped that he liked her, too, and maybe they could be buddies. Maybe he would help make the horrors feel less horrible.

She was almost at the fire and heard something from behind her. It was the pale elf, Ass-er-rion or whatever the Hells his name was. Was he? No. No fucking way.

He was holding his hand out, rubbing his thumb to his fingers. "Psspsspsspsspsssss." The pale elf made the one sound that Nym couldn't resist in her cat form.

Hypnotized by his hand and his sounds, Nym's cat pupils blew as wide as can be and she brought her body tight to the ground and stalked towards The white-haired elf's tent.

'Huhuh... Shit. I want - that hand. What - is in hand? I must bite hand.' She thought, against her better judgment. She crawled closer to his hand, and then she sped up. Finally, she pounced on his hand and wrist, nibbling at his wrist and kicking his hand.

"Ah ah, we ask before we bite." He said as he started to rub her soft fluffy tummy. Nym was disarmed and quickly unlatched from The elf's arm. She slumped into a puddle and slowly closed her eyes.

'Mmm, this is so relaxing.' She thought. Nym started purring. This was exactly what she needed.

The grinning elf scooped her up and put her on his lap. "You are a very cuddly kitty." He said quietly in a baby voice. He started scratching her armpits and under her chin. Rubbing her belly when she rolled over, scratching and patting the base of her tail when she rolled back onto her tummy.

'Free massages for kitty Nym. Hmm, this is the best!' She thought. She would occasionally stand up on his lap, stretching her front paws up to his chest and rubbing her head on his chin. It felt so nice. There was not a worry in her mind.

He scratched and petted Nym's cat form thoroughly for 5 minutes before lying back while Nym rested on his chest, curled up in a ball, peacefully trancing and purring. He stroked her languidly across her side, occasionally petting her tail by gently holding it and making his way down to the tip before going back up the base and giving it a little scratch.

Nym started slowly kneading at his chest with her toes and claws. This was the definition of bliss. She lay cozily on his still chest, accepting any and all the pets the gentle pale elf could offer her.

"Oh kitty, I have had a terrible day, you wouldn't believe it." He whispered, "Your snuggles are the highlight of my evening." He said quietly in baby talk as he booped her nose and she twitched her head back but remained comfortable on his chest.

"Do- do you think people will understand if I bite like you do?" He asked in his most hushed tone. "Will people think I'm cute if I bite like you? Gods I'm starving." He says as he throws his unoccupied hand to his face, cupping his nose and then running his hand down his face, pulling his skin with it in frustration.

Nym then stopped kneading. The sound of his hand making contact with his face slightly startled her. Not only that, his words slightly pulled her out of her trance. 'If I bite like you do... okay? Odd. But then 'Gods I'm starving.' Uhmm...' she thought to herself. Still snuggled up on his chest, but now with her paws tucked under her chest and purring a quiet rumble on him.

She started thinking, hard. 'What an odd thing for one to say. Is he a cannibal? Like the Bhallspawn type?' She sniffed. 'He doesn't smell like a Bhallspawn, usually they have an undertone of rot in their scent. What other type of person likes to bite people? Zombie? No. Stupid. Not a fucking zombie. A vampire? No way. He was in the beating sun when we had met. He would have been ash before I even got there if he was a vampire. Although..' she peered up at his face, looking for the tell-tale signs of a vampire. His eyes were closed and his head was back, so she decided to stand on his hard chest and stalk up to his face, sniffing his lips.

He felt a tickle on his mouth that made him open his eyes and smile. "Oh, kitty you are so sweet!" He said in a squishy tone. He picked her up off his chest and sat up in his candlelit tent.

Nym looked him over. She peered into his eyes which were garnet red. 'Oh fuck. Well... if he doesn't have fangs, maybe he is just part drow or something.' But then he flashed her a toothy grin. 'FANGS? OH FUCK. OH SHIT OH FUCK OH SHIT OH FUCK.' She started to panic. Her fur started to stick straight up off her skin... If the pale elf had been looking at her, he would probably be concerned.

"Well kitty, time for me to start getting ready to sleep." He said with a smile as he took off his night-shirt and then began to unlace his trousers.

'SHIT. THIS IS NOT OKAY. I CAN'T BE HERE.' In a panic, she let out a loud and low-pitched yowl before suddenly transforming back into a human in his tent. Naked.

They both screamed and then simultaneously went to cover one another's mouths with their hands. Then, they fell silent as they stared at each other's terrified eyes.

"What was that? Is everyone okay?" Yelled the wizard from his tent.

The pale elf ripped your hand away from his mouth. He was pissed. "Yes! Just practicing for the opera!" He looked back at you with a deep frown and rolled his eyes.

"I see. Well maybe save it for tomorrow instead of waking everyone at camp, thank you."

Nym couldn't help but giggle a bit under his palm. Shit, he was hilarious. Suddenly becoming too aware of the lack of clothes she had on, she pulled away from his palm and scrunched her knees to her chest. "Can I uh, have that blanket for a moment, please."

The pale elf scoffed, "Fine, but only because I am such a gentleman. Godsdamned druids." He gave her the blanket and she draped it over her shoulders and around her knees.

"I, uhm, I'm really sorry." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The handsome elf pinched his brow ridge with his finger and thumb, as he closed his eyes and scrunched his face in a scowl. "Why did you let me go on for so long, believing you were a real cat."

Nym looked down in shame. "I guess it's just that when I wild shape, sometimes the instincts of whatever animal I turn into take over me. Like I'm not in control." She sighs. "You called me over and your massaging felt so good. I was really stressed before, and, well, sometimes I turn into a cat to help calm myself down... I just, uh, didn't realize that we had a major cat-lover in camp."

The pale elf covered his face with both his hands as if trying to hide how embarrassed he was. He whined "Ohoho Gods save me. For once. Please just this once."

"I um - heard, also, what you said about biting and what-not," Nym says, awkwardly. "And your eyes, and teeth... Well... Also, I forget your name. What was it again? Asherton?"

He then ran both his hands through his hair and grabbed at his scalp. His eyebrows raised and his eyes were wide and staring at the floor of the tent. "This isn't happening." He said as his voice cracked. "No, this isn't real. I must be having a nightmare or - something."

Nym stared at him with concern. He looked like he had one foot in the looney bin. "RAHH I said I'm sorry and it's okay that you're toothy and bitey." She snipped. For some reason, Nym felt too comfortable around this creature who could easily rip her throat out. He was just too silly for her to be scared of, for the most part.

He took a deep breath and sighed on the exhale. "Astarion."

"A'staring at what? I'm sorry I'll look away." Said Nym, turning her head sideways to make him feel more comfortable.

"No, you blubbering idiot. That's my name. My name's Astarion." He quipped.

"Oh - uh - haha. So can I look at you or...?" She asked him genuinely.

"If a wall were nearby, I would smash my head against it."

"Why would you do that? There are lots of trees behind your tent. And a big boulder if I remember correctly."

Astarion just stared at her, mouth agape and brows knitted together.

There was an awkward silence and it made Nym quite uncomfortable.

"I should go." She started to get up to walk out of the tent but Astarion grabbed her shoulder.

"Wait!" He realized that he may have sounded a bit too desperate. With an intentionally lower tone, he spoke to her calmly while tilting his head down and looking at her through his black eyelashes. "Look. I just need more details on what you found out about me, please."

Nym turned back around to face him, still wearing his brown blanket like a cloak. "Oh! Well, I might have concluded that you are a vampire. But it confuses me a lot that you can walk in the sun so..." She paused.

Astarion fakely smiled and exhaled "Ah, okay. Glad we've cleared that up. Is there any chance that you could keep those pretty lips of yours shut about this specific topic with the others? You see, I would much rather break the news myself if I can."

Nym looked at him as if he had accused her of doing something she didn't do. "I wasn't planning on telling anyone. I think I realized that you're not dangerous - well, not dangerous to us at least." Her voice calmed with each word in her statement.

"What?" He looked at her, shocked. "I'll have you know I am very dangerous, actually." He enunciated every syllable of the last word pointedly and smiled.

"Hmm, but you wouldn't hurt me! Right?" Nym asked with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Astarion pursed his lips to the side and held his chin with a finger as he thought about this question. "Hmm." He let go of his chin and then looked Nym up and down with a cheeky smirk. "Not unless you want me to," he leaned in close to Nym, almost brushing his lips on her ear, "darling."

Nym's face turned red as a tomato. "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that," she exclaimed.

"I recall you biting me without asking, dear." He snaked his right hand to the back of her head, fingers gently running through her hair. "Do you remember what I told you?"

Nym gulped and looked at Astarion with a mixture of fear, confusion, and lust. "To ask before I bite."

"Good girl. Now it would only be right of me to follow my own rules, correct?" Astarion asked in a sultry voice. He started rubbing the back of Nym's head, massaging her scalp.

Nym's head lolled back. Her eyes closed and she let out a deep sigh of pleasure. "Mmm yeah." She practically moaned as she leaned more into his hand that was massaging her head both thoroughly and tenderly.

"So, Nym, what do you say? Can I bite you? I only need a taste, I swear."

Nym was entranced by his massaging. "You can do whatever you want, Orion - or whatever your name was."

Astarion then slowly removed his hand from Nym's scalp and rested it on her shoulder. "Whatever I want? Darling, are you sure about this? We might get carried away. We've only just met."

Nym smiled and sighed happily. She looked at Astarion with a restful gaze. "Where I'm from, stuff like that doesn't really matter. I'm a wood elf, I'm sure you've heard about our ways." She reached a hand out from under the blanket that was cloaking her and rested it on his shoulder, mirroring him. "But of course, I would only want to do things if you wanted to as well. I mean, I might still want to if you don't want to but that obviously doesn't mean you have t-" he shushed her with a finger on her mouth and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?" He asked, trying his best to not sound like a dick without beating around the bush.

She spoke through her fingered lips. "Yeah, people actually usually say that I talk too much, but I think they're jus-" Astarion silenced her with a bruising kiss. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in as he climbed to his knees above her.

He broke the kiss with a pop and then licked his lips as he looked down at her. He smirked.

She was looking back up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"You know, I rather like you, my dear. A lot." He said to her in a surprisingly genuine tone. "Now how about we make ourselves comfortable." He gestured to his bedroll.

"Oh! Yes!" She answered. She threw the blanket that was covering her back sloppily and then hurried to the bedroll, her breasts swaying as she climbed on all fours towards her destination. She hesitated for a moment. "Wait, do you want me on top or do you want to be on top?"

He felt a rush in his lower abdomen that made his cock twitch. There was something about a woman who felt so comfortable and confident in her skin that stirred something in him. "My sweet, if you wouldn't mind lying beneath me, I would be delighted. It will also help when I'm tasting your life's essence. We wouldn't want you toppling over, would we?"

"Right." She scooted to the bedroll and lay on her back.

Astarion mounted her and nudged her supple thighs open with his knee. He pushed her legs up to expose her core, positioning himself fully between her legs. He sat there on his knees for a moment, taking her in. His eyebrows canted up in a frown. Gods, she was adorable. Her body was perfect. She got on his nerves a lot today but he respected her openness with him. He couldn't help but admit to himself that her silliness was extremely endearing as well. It wasn't often that he would meet someone charming in the way that Nym was. He desperately wanted her blood but he also had an urge to make her feel good, to make her whimper his name.

Nym was blushing a deep red beneath him. She glared up at him and bit her lip. Her arms were to her sides, in cactus pose. She intuitively trusted him so deeply that she exposed her most vulnerable parts to him, willingly.

They had only just met that day and now, in the night when everyone slept, they were about to become one. One of Nym's top 3 activities, to be sure.

Astarion snaked down to Nym's pelvis with his head, squeezing her thighs in his wake. Nym let out a quiet mewl and looked at him desperately.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, darling" he asserted, and hovered his mouth over her pussy, waiting for her response.

"Of course, love." She managed to say despite her eagerness to be ravished.

"Perfect." Astarion cooed. He immediately licked a thick stripe through her folds and kissed her clit, which caused Nym to throw her head back and moan. This encouraged him further to start teasing her clit with his tongue. She arched her back and started wildly bucking herself onto his tongue. He held her down to gain control and she groaned in both pleasure and frustration.

"Careful, dear, I have sharp teeth." He grinned at her for a moment and locked eyes with her. Her face was twisted with pleasure. "Be a good girl and try to hold still."

"Mmhm" she moaned out and clenched around nothing at his teasing.

He continued his ministrations on her cunt and he tasted a gush come from her hole. He groaned into her clit as he sucked on it mercilessly. He inserted a finger as he teased her nub with his tongue and she clenched around his digit.

"Hmm stuff me more, please, baby." She pleaded to him. She was experienced, and so was he. She knew how to tell him what she needed and wanted. The thought made his cock twitch and grow even larger in his unlaced pants.

Not wanting to slow his mouth, he didn't say anything and simply added a second finger to her hole. She choked out a moan and her pelvis started to become more unruly under his grasp.

He curled his fingers and pumped them into her at a consistent pace while playing with her clit with his tongue. The tips of his digits stroked her spongy wall, driving her crazy.

She gritted her teeth and groaned through them, glancing down at Astarion. She gently brushed her fingers in his hair to encourage him and he grunted into her core again.

Her legs tensed and her breath picked up to a runner's pace. "I'm gonna cum! Astarion!" She moaned loud enough for the whole camp to hear. This certainly wasn't something she was shy about, he thought.

He continued fucking her with his hand and licking her clit as she rode out her orgasm.

"Ahh! Too much! No more, please!" She sweetly hissed.

"Good girl, you are so good at following instructions." He crawled his arms to either side of her and came up to kiss her tenderly. "And I'm surprised you remembered my name, darling. I'm impressed." He jested. He pushed down his pants just enough for his large member to spring out and rest on her soaking cunt.

"Hmph" she let out a huff of air. "Well certainly don't have the will to protest you right now." She retorted. Her hands rested at the sides of her head. Her chest heaved with breathlessness.

Astarion admired her form and her face. He would’ve said that he wished he had noticed her beauty sooner, but - well, he had only met her today.

"Mmm you can stare if you want but," she wriggled her hips against his cock which caused his eyebrows to knit and his mouth to form an "O". He choked out a whine.

"Oh, you cheeky little pup." He cooed

"I remember you calling me 'kitty', actually." She teased and smirked at him.

"You're gonna pay for that." He stated as reached for his shaft and aligned himself with her core. He pushed the head of his cock into her tight hole with a grin on his face.

She let out a high-pitched moan and her face twisted into a needy expression.

She was incredibly wet and tight. He slowly entered her and she started twirling her hips sensually. He eased into her with little effort until he was fully buried to the hilt between her legs and his tip kissed her cervix snugly.

She threw her legs up above his arms and her feet dangled in the air above them.

He started thrusting into her slowly while leaning his torso closer into her. They both whined and their lips connected in a passionate and messy kiss. Their tongues danced around each other's mouths, fighting for dominance. He unhooked one of her legs from his arm and grabbed her cheeks gently to pry her mouth open further. Her pussy fluttered around his cock at his actions.

He pulled his mouth from hers. "Does the little druid like it rough?" He teased

"Uhuh," she whined. "Choke me, please!" She begged.

He groaned excitedly at her lewd suggestion. This moment made him realize how good it felt to be in control, even if it was only an illusion. Even when the other person wanted it. Especially when the other person wanted it. It was something he had deeply craved for centuries, but he never had the opportunity to have any control over any aspect of his life. Maybe things were about to get better for him, despite their condition.

He snaked his hand towards her throat. He remembered what it felt like to be strangled. He could certainly understand the appeal, under the right circumstances and if done safely of course.

"Take a deep breath, dear." He smirked as he consistently rutted into her core.

Nym took a deep breath as if she had done this before and she "knew the drill" so to speak. He then grasped the sides of her throat firmly and she tightened violently around his cock.

"What a good little druid, you are." He started thrusting into her faster and harder, using his grip on her throat to push her into his pelvis with unrelenting force. He slightly straightened the arm that was at her throat and lifted his torso from her. He placed his other hand on her clit and started rubbing.

Nym's face started to become a darker red than her typical blush, and she groaned. Her leg muscles were showing the signs of an impending orgasm. Her back arched off the bedroll and he slammed into her throbbing cunt remorselessly.

"I'm coming again, Astarion!" She choked out her cries of pleasure as she came with his hand around her throat. He continued playing with her clit as he removed his hand from her throat and the flush on her skin began to fade ever so slightly. He hooked her right leg over his left shoulder. She was still fluttering around his shaft as he bent over her, tilted her head to the side roughly with a strong grasp on either cheek and sunk his fangs into her flesh. He removed his hand from her cheeks and used it to grab the back of her head.

He groaned needily into her neck as he fucked her, his pace faltering slightly. Her blood was delectable. This was the best gift he had ever gotten, and he was sure to not forget it.

Astarion felt Nym wriggling to free her clit from his abuse, so he removed that hand from her and then propped himself up on his elbow. Nym choked out a moan and she snaked her arm around to caress his soft white curls. He was so gorgeous. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful man she had ever bedded, and that was saying a lot because she had bedded many men before, sometimes at the same time, all of whom were very attractive.

For some reason, letting him sup from her felt wholesome. As if she was helping a dear friend in need.

Astarion was taking languid gulps of her blood, savouring the divine flavour as it coated his tongue and throat. He grasped the back of her head with a strong hand to hold her steady, all while fucking her drenched hole raw.

"Can you cum inside me, baby?" Nym asked, hoping he was still with it enough to hear her request.

Astarion groaned an "Uhuh" into her throat. Wet slapping noises and moans filled the camp until Astarion did one final snap into Nym's core as he drank from her neck. He filled her with his seed to the brim. He did a few more shallow sensual thrusts until he stilled. He had yet to unlatch himself from Nym's throat.

Nym started to feel light-headed and weak, so she knew that it was time to request for him to stop; that is if he could control himself.

"Stary, baby. Please - stop." She cooed gently at him and tugged tenderly at the curls on the nape of his neck.

Astarion took one last gulp and then he found the will to tear himself from her, panting instinctively. He craned his head into her neck and made sure to not waste a drop of her blood. He cleaned her up with his tongue, and he kissed her neck lovingly.

"Mmm," Nym cooed as she rotated her hips around Astarion's still-hard cock which had yet to exit her.

He grunted, lifted his head from her neck, grabbed her hips with both hands and then thrust into her. He placed his hand at the nape of her neck and pulled her into a sloppy, exhausted kiss. Nym moaned at that, and their lips flew apart. They looked one another in the eye affectionately.

"As much as it would be nice to continue, I fear I will be too sore for tomorrow if we plan on doing this again." Nym sighed.

"It seems you are as eager as I, you sweet thing." He finally pulled himself out of Nym and they both sighed. "Now, kitty, shall I grab your blankets and tuck you in to spend the rest of your night entranced next to me? After we clean you up, of course."

Nym blushed and fought back a grin that was growing on her face. "I really fucking like you. You're my favourite." She said with a cheeky smile, beneath him.

"The feeling is quite mutual, darling. If you couldn't tell already." He exclaimed and then placed a peck on her forehead before giving her head a little scratch. "Right, then, I'll be right back."

Astarion tucked himself into his pants and laced them up. He nicked his best handkerchief and set out to find the kettle next to the fire. The water was warm, but not hot. He soaked his handkerchief and rang it out. He brought the damp fabric back to his tent. "Hello, there." He smiled.

"Hi, Astarion. Long time, no see!" She giggled at her own joke.

"You are quite the silly one. I'm becoming very fond of that laugh of yours." Astarion stated, genuinely.

"Hmm well, you make me giggle a lot, too, if you haven't noticed." She winked at him and smirked.

"Oh, I make all sorts of sounds come out of you, apparently." He teased her, "Now let me help you wash up, sweet love."

She laughed again and she let him help her get cleaned up. It was a tender moment between two strangers who had sought comfort in the form of connection. Nym believed that moments like these were just as nature intended. That was how she was raised, and those were the teachings of Silvanus.

Astarion tenderly wiped Nym clean with his soft cloth, making sure to be both thorough and gentle. Nym turned to face her bum to him and he used his free hand to briefly massage her backside. This gesture felt more sensual rather than sexual. Nym hummed into the feeling and pushed into his touch.

Astarion grinned, feeling satisfied with his efforts. He then left the tent again to rinse his cloth in the river and hang it up outside his tent in a somewhat obscured location. He stalked over to Nym's tent to gather her belongings, which there were few of. He managed to snag a couple of blankets, a pillow, and an unopened glass bottle of water.

He strode back to his tent, where Nym resided, and opened the tent flap with his hand that was holding the water bottle. "I have come with all the fixings, love. I hoped that you had had more blankets. It seems as though we will have to add it to our shopping list." He stated.

"We? Oh, it would be so pleasant to have someone's assistance with that. I've been finding this whole "leader" thing quite overwhelming." Nym awkwardly laughed and then frowned.

"Well, apologies. I should have offered to help you sooner. I may be a monster but I'm not a bum. I can't say the same for our other "companions", however." he quipped.

Nym rolled over on her back and smiled at Astarion, brightly. "You're not a monster, you're just a bit toothy. I can be toothy sometimes, and I don't think I'm a monster."

"Hmm well you are only slightly devious so I suppose they would make an exception in the Guide to Monsters." He smirked at her before undressing himself fully.

"Oh, stop. You love me." She jested.

"Maybe a little, I do have a thing for pretty morsels with claws." He attentively and tactfully placed each blanket atop one another. He kneeled beside her head. "Up." He gestured. She lifted her head slightly and he tucked her pillow under it.

He opened the blankets and crawled in next to her. She was lying on her back with her eyes closed and her hands rested on her ribcage lazily. He nudged and caressed her cheek with his knuckle and then ghosted a thumb over her lips. She turned to face him and opened her eyes. Her hand snaked up to his ear and she stroked it softly. He closed his eyes at the affection, and then he sighed.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since someone touched him with so much affection. His closed eyes started watering at the thought, but he quickly pushed the thought aside and regained his composure. Fortunately, he had been able to avoid having Nym see his sudden emotion at her touch. It was better that he have a conversation with her about that once they had become more well-acquainted. For now, he tried to just enjoy this tender moment between him and his newfound friend.

They lay entwined with one another, trancing until the sun came up.

Despite their predicament, they both almost felt it a blessing that they had found one another. The bond that had begun forming between them felt powerful, in a way that could make both of them stronger. This was a good thing.

Comfort can be a good thing.

Read part 2

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #bg3 fanfic #astarion x druid tav #astarion x original female character

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mytaiyakeylover · 1 year

Text

scary stares.

synopsis: his gaze is penetrating, like that of a predator ready to pounce on its prey, and you can't help but wonder at what point you managed to anger the gang leader.

pairing: mikey x gn!reader

a/n: i don’t even know how my sleep deprived brain came up with this. was watching some random horror movie at 3 am yesterday and this is what happened😳 part 2?

warnings: just the reader freaking out and mikey being his usual oblivious self. guess some hints of angst too. reader misunderstands mikey, which isn’t that weird.

word count: 1.3k

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It’s unnerving. The way he keeps staring at you. Black, abyssal eyes penetrate your soul, making you feel exposed — naked even. You don’t know what he wants — what he’s expecting from you.

You feel small under his gaze; like a mouse. It doesn’t seem to bother him whatsoever, dead eyes simply watching you from the other side of the classroom, not paying any mind to what the teacher is saying. Usually you would have at least tried to pay attention — which you are — but the blond boy sitting at the back of the classroom is staring so intently, you can practically feel his eyes lingering on your vulnerable figure.

He doesn’t break eye contact when you look in his direction, and you find yourself shrinking. Perhaps you’re overreacting. One of your friends had once told you that he probably likes you, but you’re not too sure. Not when he keeps looking at you in a similar way that a predator watches its prey. You rake through your brain, trying to remember at what exact instance you had managed to anger the gang leader, but find none.

It’s quite hard to pinpoint what exactly you must have done however, as neither of you had even as much as exchanged one word with each other. The teacher doesn’t make things easier for you as he starts putting students into groups for some project. By some miracle you and Sano just happen to get into the same one. But you try not to show the relief you feel when his tall friend — Ryuguji — also joins you.

They may be friends, but even you were observant enough to notice that the short boy was less intimidating with him. That Ryuguji more or less, had at least some control over the commander. It was also common knowledge that between the both, the taller one was always the more reserved and collected one.

“…So, uh,” you start, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly. “What exactly were we supposed to do?” You ask tentatively, still feeling quite intimidated by the shorter boy. Ryuguji lets out a barely audible sigh, but then smiles. You think he must be sensing your unease and is trying to make you feel more comfortable.

“Guess somebody must have zoned out, huh,” he states, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips, which urged you to let out an embarrassed laugh. “Guess so,” you mumble, smiling faintly as a soft pink hue dusts your cheeks.

The other boy doesn’t say anything, eyes vacant as he seems to be deep in thought. You’re not too sure of what he’s thinking about, but there is something in your gut telling you that you want to know. Still, the question remains unspoken, letting curiosity simply continue to eat at your sanity. Bits by bits; like a parasite.

It has always been a bad habit of yours. Sometimes you wish you had more courage. More courage to speak your thoughts. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been here right now, feeling like this — so helpless and lonely. It's not that you don't enjoy being alone; in fact, you love it. However, there have always been moments when you wish you had done things differently.

You know you should ask. Should ask why he’s been staring at you for so long — in such a way. To clear things up. To save yourself from the growing anxiety. To protect your sanity.

Then someone clears their throat. It’s Ryuguji. You guess he must have noticed the tension between you and his friend. Sano still doesn't make any acknowledgment of either of you, and you can hear the dragon-tattooed boy sigh from your right.

“There is nothing much, we’re just supposed to answer these questions and then discuss them,” the tall boy explains, losing any hope he may have had previously for his commander. You can practically sense it by the apparent vein that has popped out above his right eyebrow.

A barely audible, “Oh,” leaves your lips at his words. Then you sit down, doing your best to avoid making eye contact with the other boy. He’s still staring, and you're not quite sure what to make out of it. A part of you hoped that it would at least be easier for you to understand what that gaze means. Unfortunately, instead of making things clearer, it only seems to confuse you further.

The closeness isn’t helping in the slightest, despite the desk separating the both of you. If anything, it only makes you more nervous. You try to break the tension by asking him questions here and there, whenever you get to a new question that you need to discuss. Sano never answers you however — never says anything at all, in fact, and Ryuguji looks truly fed up with his behavior.

Time passes. Ryuguji is speaking, but you only seem to hear the ticking of the clock, so all you do is nod. Nodding at him with a polite — and perhaps slightly awkward — smile whenever you catch his lips moving. Heart beating erratically in your rib cage as the oh so familiar irrational sense of fear and dread envelopes your senses.

The feeling leaves you confused as you had never experienced such emotions without any apparent reason. Communication was never a problem for you before. Despite occasionally overthinking things, it had never occurred unless it was due to something you had said that was foolish or poorly thought out. Your friends would sometimes tease you, claiming that you paid too much attention to trivial matters.

“(L/n)-san,” you hear Ryuguji’s voice calling out for you, pulling you out from your thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, a look of concern plastering his face. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes widen as you rush to come up with a response. "Of course," you say, realizing you had zoned out. The boy arches an eyebrow in response, dismissing your later stuttered apology with a wave.

A lump forms in your throat as you catch the pair of onyxes still very much concentrated on you. Your cheeks flare up at their intense look, but try not to acknowledge that fact. Instead you simply turn around, and continue on with the questions.

Minutes pass by and you feel cold sweaty trailing down your neck as they remain fixated on you. You try to form a coherent sentence whenever Ryuguji is asking you something, but they only come out as a stuttered mess. The boy is considerate enough to not comment on it however.

You feel a wave of relief flooding your system as the bell rings and the teacher announces the end of the lesson. However, it's only when your feet step out of the classroom that the feeling fully registers in your brain. Even then, you fail to notice the forgotten notebook on your former group member's desk.

Draken sweatdrops at how quickly you bolted out of the classroom, noticing the notebook you had accidentally left behind. He feels slightly guilty for the obvious discomfort you were displaying, fully aware that Mikey's weird demeanor must have caught you off guard. The short boy did look kind of creepy throughout the entire lesson.

He sighs, about to stand up and try to catch up to you, but a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. “Hey, Ken-chin?” There is a slightly dreamy lilt to it, and the addressed boy feels his brain short-circuit. He can’t help it, he’s never heard his friend speak in such a manner, like…ever.

“Don’t you think (Y/n)-chan is pretty?”

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farfromstrange · 1 month

Text

‘I Love You In Every Universe’

Chapter One: I Bet On Losing Dogs

Masterlist | List Of Installments

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Mutant!Reader

Summary: The day you lost Matt, you lost everything. There is no moving on from what Spider-Man put you through, and you plan to execute your revenge.

Warnings: ANGST, Major Character Death, blood, suicidal thoughts, mutant!Reader, evil Peter Parker, 18+ because of darker themes, multiverse (No Way Home Era), slight AU

Word Count: 5.8k

A/n: FINALLY! This took me way too long to edit. Today, we’re setting the scene for future installments, but you’re not getting all the details, even if the first 3000 words of this are somewhat a flashback. So, if you think that there is too little dialogue for a Prologue, that’s probably why. This chapter is integral to the future installments.

Read Me On AO3!

The world was silent when he died—an endless pit of nothingness, and above a sky full of stars.

You don’t remember if it was raining. The moon was hiding behind a thick cloud, and the stars were burning, but you can’t remember if you were drowning in a river of tears or if it was the sky that broke that night. Everything else about that night, you remember quite vividly.

Hell’s Kitchen had become a battleground. The city lay at your feet in shambles; Wilson Fisk had become mayor after you tried hard to stop him, and the world fell apart. But it was his second in command, Peter Parker, who gave new meaning to the word ‘notorious’. Spider-Man infested your home like a parasite, slipping through your finger like dry sand. He knew what he was doing. He and Fisk held the city in the palms of their dirty hands, slowly crushing it like mealy little ants.

When you met Matt Murdock, it was years back when things were still better, yet they were never perfect. He found you broken at the side of the road—or that was what it felt like, anyway.

From the start, you have always been different. In a world where everyone wanted to be someone, your uniqueness painted a target on your back. Your nature was misunderstood by most; they either wanted to be you, or they were vying for your inevitable downfall.

You stood out of every crowd. The target on your back remained no matter how hard you tried to turn yourself into a shrouded mystery. Eventually, you had to start running. You operated out of the dark like a criminal—a vigilante, and a mind-reader who could set the world on fire if she only tried hard enough.

For most of your life, you were hunted. Scientists wanted to run experiments on you, tie you to a gurney, and study your brain until they understood how your abilities worked. Freaks wanted to sell you for millions to equally disturbed individuals.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were merely a scared child who grew into a terrified teenager who didn’t know any better: dead parents, dead everything, and a mind built to read those of others.

Back then, your only instinct was blatant survival, so you ran. You ran fast and you ran far, an orphan so many would have rather seen dead than operating in the dark, but oh, you had to become something to feel like you were worth something.

When you landed in New York, beaten and alone with a bone-crushing fear of the future, the Devil found you, taking you home with him. He saved you. He picked up your pieces, glued you back together, and wrapped you in a protective glaze. All the heartbreak you’d endured, and the trauma you’d suffered getting there seemed worth it whenever he held you in his arms.

You were Matt Murdock’s world, and he was yours. He showed you heaven and hell; he saved you from the purgatory you pushed yourself into and got you settled with a one-way ticket to paradise. After all these years, you finally found your salvation in a person.

He was your broken Catholic boy with a heart made out of gold. The universe didn’t deserve him, and yet he gave the world everything he had. He sacrificed his soul to God and his city. He prayed, he begged, and he fought hard for what he believed right at the time.

Matt saw himself as the Devil; embodied him, too. Though in your eyes, he was an angel with an invisible halo only you could feel in every fiber of your being. His thoughts, his heart, and his soul; he gave it all to you.

You cherished him with all you could give him. It wasn’t much, but he loved you more than anyone had ever before. You were more than a mutant, more than a broken girl at the side of the road, and more than a potential test subject. With him, you finally learned what living was like—what it was supposed to feel like to be human.

The world tried to clip your wings. They took away your voice and your ability to breathe. Matt brought you back to life. He was not the love of your life; Matt Murdock was your soulmate. You lived for him. You existed for him. He was your heart, your soul, and the reason for your survival.

It wasn’t healthy, how dependent you were on him. He made you see colors you couldn’t see with anyone else. You loved him fiercely. You loved him in a way that was pure agony. And you loved him in a way that you knew would screw you up forever.

It didn’t cross your mind that you could ever lose him. To you, Matt Murdock was immortal. He was the man you could see yourself growing old with.

You got married in a small ceremony at the courthouse—it wasn’t just for love, it was also convenient, but he forever tied himself to you as you tied yourself to him with a golden wedding band—and you talked about maybe having children one day. A mini-you and a mini-him in your little farmhouse in the suburbs. For that, he would have left Hell’s Kitchen once it was safe enough to do so.

It was a foolish dream now that you think about it; you were foolish to think that happiness would ever be in the cards for you, but then he kissed you again, good morning and good night and in between, and all you could see was a sea of roses.

He walked through fire (sometimes literally) for you and came back on the other side, hardly always unscathed but always alive, and always with a smile on his chapped lips. He crawled home to you even when he was broken. He crawled home to you when he was full of adrenaline. And he crawled home to you when he thought he couldn’t or wouldn’t anymore, both mentally and physically. He knew he could always come home to you, his best friend, his lover, his confidant, and soon enough, his wife.

You stitched his wounds and kissed his scars to breathe new life into him. You brought him back from the edge. You gave him something to live for. He told you that you saved him, and hearing that after getting on your knees every night, thanking him for the same thing, did something to you. It healed you from the inside out.

You kept him alive the same way he did you. You stood strong together against your enemies every night, fighting as a team. He taught you how to fight, and you taught him how to connect. Matt didn’t know what it was like not to push someone he loved away, but you made sure he understood. He connected to himself; he connected to his past, present, and future with you, and that made him a better man.

You lost and you won, but at least you had each other to fall back on. You did it together. You did everything together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Husband and wife. Lady Red and Daredevil.

The fragile little yet oh-so-big thing you had was raw, vulnerable, yet the most tragically beautiful love affair you could have possibly had the pleasure of calling yours. And pleasure, you had plenty. Love, you had plenty. You had everything until everything was ripped from your bare hands—until the very thing sustaining you shattered on a white cloth, spilling crimson blood everywhere, and what you swore could only be pried from your cold, dead hands slipped away in a moment in time.

You both died, in a way, but it was Matt’s body you held as he took his last breaths in the dead of a hot summer’s night. You can’t remember if it rained, but he was certainly drowning in your tears.

“He’s going to kill you,” you warned him. “Parker and Fisk are out to destroy you. If Spider-Man sees you with your guard down, he won’t hesitate.”

Matt slid his skilled fingers into his pair of leather gloves. They were worn down, but they smelled like him. You could feel the unease sizzling in the pit of your stomach—a parasite.

“I have to do this,” he told you, his voice laden. “The bastard is ruining innocent lives in my city. I can’t stand idly by and let it happen.”

You weren’t fighting, but the statement still hung deafeningly loud in the room, hanging itself from the ceiling with a noose that was threatening to take you down with it.

“He challenged you because he knows you’d do anything—”

He cut you off, “He’s underestimating me.”

You stared into his eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much. The dark cloud was heading straight for you, but he couldn’t sense it. “You almost died the last time you came face-to-face with him,” you tried again.

“So did you,” he said. “Fisk is nothing without Spider-Man behind him, and those two have done enough damage already.”

“Matt, please—”

“I have to, sweetheart. This is the only way.”

“There is always another way.”

He shook his head. “Not this time. The city is about to fall. If I let them win, there is no coming back from this. You know that.”

“At least let me come with you then,” you said. You begged him to listen, but he wouldn’t see how worried you were. “We’ve been through hell together. We can fight this war together, too.”

“No,” Matt insisted. “He will see an easy target. You mean too much to me. Spider-Man is gonna use you to get through to me. I can do this. You just have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It’s him I don’t.”

“I’m gonna talk to him, and if I have to fight him again for the whole fucking world to see, so be it.”

The words slipped you before you could stop them, cutting through the air like a sharp-edged sword. “What if you die trying?”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“I don’t want to lose you!” you cried.

You had not cried in front of him often before that night, but your walls cracked, and you broke.

Matt cradled your face as he whispered, begging you to listen, “You won’t. I promise. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The invisible string pulled you tighter together. Fear, anger, and desperation; he felt so many things—so many things running deeper than the ocean—but you swallowed them.

“I’m not okay with this,” you murmured.

“I know. Here–” he guided your hands to his face, “Feel me,” he said.

You remember gasping when the floodgates opened. “I always feel you.”

You stroked his delicate cheeks. He was here, home with you; why couldn’t he stay like that forever? Why did you have to let him go? Past, present, and future began to blur.

I love you. He tuned out all other thoughts so you could hear him.

He was praying. He was hoping. Only a handful of times had he felt this way. You were so tightly interlaced that you could feel all of him without even trying, but that night, you tried. That night, he tuned out all of his self-deprecating thoughts. He allowed the silence of your connection to engulf him—for the city to disappear, and he allowed you in.

I love you so much. Do you hear me? You’re everything to me. I love you.

Those three words weighed heavy like bricks on your heart.

“Remember, three knocks,” he said aloud. “Don’t open for anyone else.”

“Three knocks,” you whispered in agreement.

Three knocks like three words: I love you.

You read his mind, swallowing the words, but a big part of you wanted to spit them back out. You didn’t want to hear it. The universe was sending you a warning sign.

Matt exhaled. He cupped your hands in his. The connection deepened, the string pulled tighter, and you became one. That night was the first night you saw glimpses of the future, and you didn’t want to accept it. You were such a fool to think everything could ever be fucking alright, both for you and for this magnificent force of a man you chose to call home—because home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling, and often enough, it’s a person.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. He kissed you. Softly, gently, passionately. You kissed him like you knew it would be the last time.

“I love you,” he repeated.

The red flags waved, but you looked away. “I don’t want to say it back because you have to come back to me,” you confessed, “and this feels too much like a goodbye.”

He forced you to look at him instead. “Say it back, baby.”

“I love you,” you caved.

You shouldn’t have. You should have put up more of a fight.

I will always come back to you. Cross my heart. He crossed his heart, but he hoped too much to die. Perhaps in not saying it out loud, he thought the truth would hurt less.

You refused to believe it until time had run out. You refused to cave until it happened. And when it happened, the city, for the first time since you’d arrived there, went completely quiet.

You followed him. Of course, you did. After a few hours of pacing the floor, you followed him. He was still in your head. You heard him from across the city, his thoughts loud and clear, and you could feel his pain like an inferno lighting up the night sky.

When you arrived on that godforsaken rooftop though, you could only watch in horror as Spider-Man lifted the love of your life toward the sky. He wouldn’t accept your bargain. You offered yourself instead of him, but no; Peter Parker was not in the mood for bargaining.

He lifted Matt toward the sky, and he drilled the dagger right through his chest.

“No!” you screamed again.

Silence.

His blood ran through your fingers like quicksand, and sitting there, cradling Matt’s chest to yours as his heartbeat slowly faded into oblivion, you knew the end was near. The world could be so fucking unfair. You both died, but it was only his heart that stopped. You lost him that night, and your entire world stopped in an instant.

You liked it better when he was angry with you. When he was loud, when he was laughing, even when he was just being sarcastic. You liked him better when he was alive. He turned into a ghost in your arms, forever and all eternity, and you fell face-first into the abyss.

Maybe it was raining that night. Maybe you were being buried under the weight of your guilt and the never-ending flow of your tears.

“I can’t…” you sobbed, tracing his cold cheek as the rain fell around you. “I can’t feel you.”

His heart stopped beating, and the invisible string pulverized. You watched it as it went with the wind. Without him. Without you.

You screamed until your lungs gave out. Then, silence settled in.

The night was quiet when he died; nothing but a sky full of stars and the endless black pit of death above and below you.

The blood and his missing pulse weren’t the worst part, by far; the worst part was that you could no longer feel him, and that thought won’t ever not haunt you.

You were certain that night. When you lost him, and you screamed your heart out, praying to a God you’ve never believed in, you swore to yourself that you would avenge him.

You were going to kill Peter Parker, and nothing in this world could ever stop you from watching this miserable motherfucker bleed to death.

The bed shakes violently as you awaken. Dreams, so many dreams. Your nights are far from peaceful. They haven’t been for weeks. Months. What day is it? You don’t remember.

Nightmares follow you like hunters after a fox. Your pajamas stick to your skin, and you’re sweating even though it is spring, and spring doesn’t have hot enough temperatures for you to be sweating quite like this. When you pull the comforter away in a sudden panic, the wetness seeping into your skin, there is nothing but white. No blood, no tears, just gaping emptiness in the farmhouse.

You pant heavily, dragging your nails across your skin. Your fingernails are tinted a charcoal black. In your heart, there had once been a bright red glow—like a ruby crystal sustaining your soul. You used it to channel other people’s thoughts. You could read them, you could hear them, and you could feel them. That Ruby has gone out now though; it has turned into a black smoke threatening to overtake anything it comes in contact with.

The sun isn’t strong enough to break through the gray clouds. As you step out into the garden that stretches around your home, a gentle wind brushes through the bare branches of the dead trees. The wood is starting to splinter, turning hollow as sickness after sickness runs rampant through nature.

You trace a finger over the poison ivy that has grown over the tombstone. The green fades, turning into a rotten brown. It dries out, and it dies right before your eyes, as do the roses you have been keeping in a vase ever since you laid a finger on the last bouquet.

He liked the smell of roses, but you hated the look of it until Matt died, and suddenly, everything looked and smelled like a field of roses, reminding you of him. He was your daisy, your sunflower, setting fire to your freezing soul. He was sunshine, you were midnight rain. He liked to claim differently, but you wouldn’t let him. You may have been his sunshine, but out of the both of you, he shone the brightest.

The poison ivy dies, and if you even manage to kill a plant with the word ‘poison’ in its name, what does that say about you? What has become of you; plotting a stranger’s death and killing the nature around you as you dive into books about mind-reading and dark magic to understand who you truly are? Dark magic sounds like a story out of a piece of fiction, but it’s far from that.

You’ve known of your ability to manipulate the human mind ever since you discovered the creature hidden within you, the one who could touch another human being and see their thoughts so clearly. The one time you tried to manipulate someone, you caused them indescribably agony. You ruined their life. You broke them. You made them complicit and took all they were away from them, turning their fragile mind into ashes. That day, your fingers turned charcoal for the first time.

If you try hard enough, you can kill him—Peter Parker. He took your husband and your city, now sitting in his ivory tower, overlooking the damage he’s done. He killed everyone and everything, even Wilson Fisk. He has taken the people of Hell’s Kitchen hostage, but no one has dared to make a move just yet, not since their beloved Daredevil disappeared off the face of the earth. With him, his Lady Red went as fast as she had come.

You don’t want to fix what Spider-Man destroyed; you can’t get back what he took, nor do you want to, and the city doesn’t mean anything without Matt in it.

You have to be the monster to kill another monster, only then you can join your husband in his tomb. Didn’t you vow to stay together, even in death?

The city can burn, for all you care, but first, Peter Parker has to die.

You scratch at the dirt in the engraving of his name. Matthew Michael Murdock. 1982 — 2023. Beloved husband and hero.

You hate this. You hate that his grave is in your backyard, but this was the only place you knew his corpse would be safest. No one can touch him here, and you can talk to him, pretending you can still feel him. If you focus hard enough, you can still hear his voice in your head, telling you to move on.

How could you though? How could you abandon all you’ve been through? You can fight, you can win or lose, but nothing will ever be the same again. And it is far from worth it to stay alive when he isn’t. You’ve made your decision; whether or not you’ve come to peace with it, that’s another story entirely.

“Tonight is the night,” you murmur to the gravestone. Of course, you don’t receive an answer.

Lately, you have been swearing to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, that there are no more tears left to shed, but every day, you end up crying anyway. It’s an endless cycle of despair.

You wipe your cheeks, untangling the chain that holds your golden wedding band close to your chest from around your neck. Gently, you guide it to your lips and press a kiss against the ring.

“I love you,” you whisper.

For when you meet again in another life.

You dig a small hole into the dry dirt where, six feet under, Matt is resting now. He always told you he would end up in hell when he died. You were never particularly religious before you met him, and when he struggled with his faith while you were together, you believed even less in an all-merciful God. Now though, with Matt gone and the world on the verge of falling apart and crushing you under its weight as you approach the biggest challenge of your life, the thought of ending up in an eternal life of nothingness after death—the thought of there being nothing but mindless darkness, no body, soul—scares you too much. Imagining the pits of hell or paradise with the love of your life, and reuniting with him, is a prospect you would rather see when you close your eyes than a world on fire.

The necklace lands in the hole, and you cover it up. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of your ring before, but you won’t risk carrying it when you do what you are about to do.

Tonight, Peter Parker is going to show himself to all of New York City as the new mayor in all of his Spider-Man glory. He begged for you to come out, and he told the city he would be merciful in prosecuting you for the crimes you committed in the past alongside Daredevil. When you come out tonight though, you won’t surrender yourself. You will use the platform he is giving you and you will fight as you reveal him to Hell’s Kitchen and show the world who he is. You will tell Matt’s story, even if it’s the last thing you do.

You have been burning for him for the longest time, and the flame is about to go out with a bang.

That night, you put on the red suit Melvin made for you years ago before he lost his mind for what might be the last time. It has holes from where the moths dug their teeth into. The piece around the waist is starting to fade in color, and the leather is worn out, but it reminds you of simpler times. Better times. The black of your fingertips matches the lining of your outfit, and that’s all you need to feel the power sizzle deep within you.

You don’t have to remember the weather report because you can feel the rain soaking your skin through the fabric. The air smells salty, and it tastes the same on your cracked lips. Tonight, you will be Lady Red for the last time. Until the bitter end, you have sworn yourself. Matt did the same thing. You have to do him proud.

You make your way from that little farmhouse—your broken red castle—to the familiar streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Destruction surrounds you. The news didn’t do justice to what Peter has done to the city you once loved. But no one loved it more than Matt Murdock.

Your fists clench at your sides. Oh, you want to tear this man limb by limb and feed him to the dogs.

It starts with a low rumbling beneath your boots. You don’t pay much mind to it at first. You hide out on a rooftop across the courthouse. The spotlights are on, and he’s standing there at the podium, looking as though he is so proud of himself for ruining so many lives. You don’t usually experience joy when hurting people, but you will savor watching the life drain from Peter’s lifeless eyes.

Your hands clench around Matt’s batons. The metal is heavy but flexible. You click your nails against them. Every move needs to be meticulously calculated, but tonight, the barons will remain in the holsters on your thighs. You won’t need them. You won’t need anything but your bare hands.

You’re going back to your roots tonight.

The ground moves slightly, only a few inches. You could have missed it if you weren’t crouching to get a better look at the world below you. You catch yourself on the ledge, a frown finding its way on your face.

“What the f–” you shake your head. Since when does thunder shake the ground?

You seem to be the only one who notices, or Peter Parker is better at brainwashing his decibels than you expected. He was born to be a dictator. His presence turned your fairytale into a dystopian tragedy.

“Tonight,” he says into his microphone, “is the last chance for Lady Red to reveal herself for a lesser sentence. A new era is on the horizon. I am your mayor, and I am Spider-Man. Without me, you would be nothing. Daredevil couldn’t save you. Wilson Fisk couldn’t save you. But I can, and after tonight, we will start anew. For this is the era of real heroes as we rebuild this city from the ground up, and we turn the City of New York, including Hell’s Kitchen, into its own world. Starting with the arrest of the criminal who is Daredevil’s accomplice Lady Red. I hope for her sake she will show herself tonight. If not, we will find her, and she will suffer the full extent of the consequences of her actions. That includes the Death Penalty.”

You land gracefully, catching yourself with your hand on the asphalt. The crowd parts with a gasp, and you finally stare into his eyes.

After he drilled that dagger through Matt’s heart, he told you, “You will always be a monster, never a God.”

You deserve nothing, he thought. It has stuck with you since that night. Growing up, it was the only thing you heard. You were nothing but trash. A disgrace. A monster. What will they say when they see that you have finally become what they feared so much?

You will burn down whatever is left of the world, including him. God knows you want to.

Magic pulsates in the atmosphere like a growing spell in a small shoe box. The air vibrates, and the ground shakes again. This isn’t your doing, but the sudden charge that fills your veins as adrenaline sustains you. Your eyes glow red. This is who you were born to be.

“I heard you were looking for me,” you declare.

He doesn’t look surprised to see you. “Ah, just like clockwork,” he murmurs. “Are you going to make this hard on all of us or are you here to finally surrender yourself?”

You purse your lips, playing with the energy between your fingers. “I came to destroy you.” Each step toward him on the big marble steps feels like a mile, and the crowd starts to move further back, dispersing in an attempt to save themselves. Most of them are eager to watch though. What has he done to them?

“Destroy me?” Peter laughs, addressing the crowd again, “You see who you’ve been calling a hero all this time? This mutant? Look at her!”

All eyes are on you. They’re whispering. They’re speculating. Their thoughts overlap in disarray, and you’re drowning in a sea of judgment. They are trying to tear you down like sharks. You’re leaking blood, and God, they are angry. But it’s not you they’re angry at.

“You call me a mutant,” you say, “but wasn’t it you who was bit by a radioactive spider?”

His smile fades.

“You are Spider-Man, no?”

“You are a wannabe hero with unregulated powers,” he snaps. His voice roars through the speakers, and the mood in the crowd starts to shift.

The ground vibrates again, stronger this time. You can’t be the only one feeling the quakes, but everyone else seems unmoved. They’re too focused on both of you to notice anything else, and you should do the same. However, the energy doubles and you are closer to bursting than ever. Something is happening, and you have no control over it.

Peter sneers. “You’re a failure,” he calls your name, “just like your husband!”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your eyes darken. “If you want to enforce the death penalty on me, Parker,” you growl, “why don’t you do it yourself?”

Peter taps his chest, and his suit transforms into shades of black and spider webs. At that moment, panic erupts. People start running, but you tune them out.

The air begins to smell sour. Burnt. It is so high the pain consumes you whole. He doesn’t have to touch you to bring you to your knees, but looking up, you realize that it wasn’t Spider-Man who infused your ears with such a high frequency.

Someone is uttering a powerful spell, you can hear his voice in your head as he thinks of several names all over the place. Time passes by in a flash. Hours, days, weeks, and months. The universe falls out of control. The beeping picks up and you sink deeper into the ground.

You swear then and there that the sky starts to rip in two. The sky resembles a nasty cut on your forehead, a pair of hands ripping the cut further apart, causing the blood to pour out in rivers.

One of the cuts swallows you. With a scream, you fall through several rollercoasters passing by violet stars.

The cut is a portal; one moment, you are flying through the sky at the highest possible speed, and the next, you hit the ground hard.

It’s not raining anymore. The sun shines down on you, and the heat creeps up your skin like tiny ants. The pain finally releases, but your head is still spinning. So many feelings, so many voices, and so many thoughts threaten to overwhelm you.

Not even an LSD trip hits that bad. You lazily open your heavy eyes to find not the courthouse but the New York skyline right before you.

You look down at your shaky hands. The charcoal is gone. The power in your veins feels different, all-consuming, but in no way bad. You take a deep breath. Even the oxygen tastes different.

The world stops spinning, and you finally take a look around. A car honks, an SUV heading straight for your wobbly frame.

You’re in the middle of a road. What is it? A freeway.

Oh, shit!

You jump aside, hitting the sidewalk with a loud thud.

“Watch out, bitch!” the driver shouts out of his window.

Where once used to be the courthouse, you are met with a street in the middle of downtown Hell’s Kitchen, New York. Stores line the side of the street. Tourists, foreigners, and those who are native to the city pass by you, and their gasps and whispers sound so different from the automatic voices Peter Parker raised them to be.

“Oh, no,” you breathe out. “Oh, no, no, no!” The air is getting thinner.

“What are you thinking about, hm?” he asked into the darkness of the room.

His heartbeat aligned with yours. His calloused fingertips traced your bare skin. You were in heaven. Beautiful, sinful heaven.

His jawline appeared even sharper in the colorful lights from the billboard outside. His skin glowed white—paler than usual, even. You could stare into his eyes forever, such a beautiful hazel with hints of forest green. Perfect eyebrows, perfect lips. They bowed at the top, so kissable.

He pressed them to your bare shoulder blade, down your spine. The butterflies danced crazy in your tummy.

“You’re distracted,” he hummed again.

You chuckled, looking over your shoulder at the beautiful man in bed with you.

“Can’t help it when I’m with you,” you remember saying.

Matt offered you his signature smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I quite like the view.”

“And when I do this?” He trailed another finger down your sensitive spine.

You shuddered. “That, too.”

He did it again. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“Thinking,” you said.

“About what?” he asked.

“A book I read.” You paused to turn on your back. “About the multiverse.”

It was a surprising change in subject, and he raised his eyebrows in a rather amused way. “The multiverse?”

You nodded. “We know way too little about it. There could be more of me and more of you out there, and we don’t even know it,” you told him. “The multiverse… there is a chance it could be real. And that alone is terrifying because if it opens and we’re not prepared, chaos might ensue.”

He propped himself up on his elbow next to you, listening to the calming sound of your voice. It was always his favorite thing to do.

Matt used your voice as his podcast; it was his favorite, too.

“Can we jump universes?” he wondered.

You shrugged. You didn’t know, at least not at the time. “Maybe,” you said. “But I’m not a scientist, let alone good at physics, so… let’s just go back to kissing. I’m much better at that.”

He laughed, but he did not object. At least with kissing, you both knew what you were doing. So, he brought his lips to yours, and the multiverse disappeared in a Bermuda Triangle of pleasure in your mind. Lost but not forgotten.

Maybe.

But as you sit there, sliding back against the brick wall in the closest alley, you realize that you downplayed the probability.

You were going to kill a man, but instead of blood on your hands, you are now cursed with the knowledge that the ‘maybe’ of your once-thought-silly pillow talk has always been very fucking real, and you have nowhere to run in this strange world you have fallen into that is New York City, Earth-616.

Where do you run when you can go anywhere, just not home?

Tagging: @nk1023 @sarahskywalker-amidala @ignore-mp3 @imonabitchparade @familyvideowithsteve @eyelessdemon

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #angst no happy ending #daredevil #daredevil x reader #mutant reader #i love you in every universe #charlie cox

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toji-girl · 2 days

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18+ only content - mdni

tw: fem reader + dark content + step-dad trope + you are referred to as girl once + suggestive + oc characters

"Girl! Your dad is hawt!" Emi screeched alongside Mai and Sam who watched as your step-dad worked outside under the heat of sun.

Toji decided to go shirtless in favor of his little fanclub that he wasn't blind to but pretended he didn't see your friends checking him out with no shame despite the silver band on his finger.

You, on the other hand, only spoke to him when it was necessary. "You guys are gross. He's old."

"Yes, but he's experienced and probably hung like a -" You stopped Sam by holding your hand up, rolling your eyes and heading downstairs.

They decided not to follow after you and instead watch Toji from your bedroom window until he entered the kitchen at the same time as you.

Your eyes met in a heated gaze, reminding you of the scorching sun outside that could melt ice cream in a matter of seconds, and his look could melt your panties off.

Charged silence filled the kitchen as you both headed for the refrigerator, trying to avoid his bare skin touching you or you looking at him.

It wasn't that you didn't respect him or anything. He was just - too much. Toji loved to tease you and make you all flustered to a point.

He was like a parasite inside your brain, eating away at the limbic system until you felt you were going to explode from it.

You grabbed several water bottles and held them in your arms. "I won't be home tonight."

Toji leaned against the counter, looking at you, his facial expression blank as his eyes took in the dress you wore, revealing and sexy as sin.

Which is what you were. Temptation.

He couldn't give in, but something lured him to you like a moth to light seeking comfort. You made him feel something he hasn't felt in forever, making him feel young again.

You breathed life into his lungs when he thought there was no more left, you were already gone and out of the house living with your biological father when Toji met your mom.

She was like you but now she was cold and stiff.

"Where are you going to be? I hope it ain't out with some loser." He replied, his eyes remaining on your face even though he wanted to look lower.

His palm twitched when you rolled your eyes at him before walking out of the kitchen, stopping at the doorway to look back at him.

"I'll come home, Daddy, don't worry!" You called out in a sickly, sweet fake tone, knowing that it made him groan but you didn't know how hard it made him either.

#tw: dark content #tw: incest #I wanted something different #toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk toji

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au-sonic-smackdown · 2 months

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AU Sonic Smackdown - Round 4, Right Side

Words Hurt AU belongs to @oddogoblino

Infested AU belongs to @hejjhug

Learn more about them under the cut!

Words Hurt AU-

In this au, Earth is decaying, the planet slowly losing its ability to sustain life due to mankind’s lack of care to it. To try and survive, they attempted to move people to planet mobius as it held similar conditions as earth. The mobians at first welcomed them happily, happy to help those in need. Eventually, the humans began trying to repeat their old mistakes and began digging into mobius and setting up machines to harvest from it to try and save Earth. The planet didn’t handle this as well as earth once did, machines quickly backfiring and any mobians nearby during the incidents quickly falling ill. That’s how the infections started.

Sonic’s parents were one of the few first mobians infected, having lost them due to them going into the second form of the illness that’s caused from starvation. They’d been “quarantined” and left without food or an energy source for too long. He was only a toddler when this happened. He’s now part of Vanilla’s secret organization that helps infected mobians survive outside of the homes they’d been kicked out of due to fear. Sonic himself works as a secret delivery boy and tends to travel to make sure infected mobians have access to food and water and even just simple pleasantries like games and toys. He met Tails as a 4 yr old who’d been born from infected parents, taking care of him when they weren’t. Currently Sonic is 17 and Tails is 8.

Sonic is mostly his same ole usual self except he’s a lot less social. He doesn’t talk to anyone except for Tails, Vanilla, and sometimes Cream. He was naturally born with his super speed but keeps it hidden due to not wanting to be mistaken as an infected. He still has to fight Eggman as the mad doctor tries to manipulate both uninfected and infected mobians’ fears and resentment toward each other. He has a civilian disguise named Nicky so no one recognizes him as the superspeedy hero. He’s a bit more easily agitated but only because he doesn’t get enough sleep with his work.

Sonic’s right eye is always tearing up, not because he’s emotional but because of repeated exposure to infectious spores. The spores can only infect others if inhaled or through exposed open wounds. Hes naturally immune to the illness, but he doesn’t know that, and wouldn’t ever take chances on it. Whenever he gets injured, he disinfects the wound immediately and patches it up like others would in hopes to avoid spore-infection.

Infected mobians tend to live in abandoned spaces that their cities and towns assigned for them to live. Infected mobians feed off energy, whether that be electricity, emotions, powerful items, etc, but can also eat normal foods just fine. They need normal food to keep sane and prevent them from going into the second form that attacks anything with energy in it. Only the second form can infect others directly, making it the most dangerous and is an automatic kill-on-sight if seen. No one knows yet if you can change infected back to normal after they’ve transformed. Vanilla takes care of transformed infected when Sonic reports the incidents.

Mobians aren’t the only things infected, plant and wildlife have been mutated by the illness aswell. The symptoms of the infection is body mutations, a blue tongue, and increased hunger and thirst. Mobians born from infected parents can’t go into the second form but they become feral without food. Bites from hostile born-infected mobians are less likely to spread the infection but it isn’t impossible.

Infested AU-

Sonic, under the influence of a mysterious alien brain parasite, has become unpredictable and very, very dangerous. While all his powers remain the same, he now uses his speed to maim and kill anyone who moves. Sonic’s mental state has devolved to basic instinct, and, thanks to the parasite, he is in a near-constant state of feeling like a wild animal trapped in a corner. As a result, he will call upon impossible strength, reserved only for life-or-death scenarios. Pray you don’t catch his attention. You can’t outrun the fastest thing alive.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic au #sonic alternate universe #au sonic smackdown #round 4 #words hurt au #infested au

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starshipsofstarlord · 19 days

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lap girl (4)

summary. daryl is in mourning for his brother merle, overcome with grief and guilt. all he needs is to lay on his girls lap and receive her affection

warnings. extreme angst, graphic mentions of character death, crying, some fluff, blood

divider credits. @cafekitsune

All he needed was his home, the comfort of y/n’s lap. He stalked through the empty courtyard in the dead of sunset, tired and bearing an ache that was embedded across the side of his torso towards the safety of his home. Merle was dead, and he couldn’t save him.

The image of his brother’s blood resonated in a repeated flash behind his eyes, as well as the flesh that had tangled itself in his tough and walker teeth. He had turned into a flesh eating parasite, devouring any bodies that were remaining in the war zone that now represented a graveyard of sorts alongside the other mobile corpses.

Daryl’s face remained tight from the tears that had continuously dripped from the faucet of his eyes, his agony from the entire experience still mutilating his mind. His hands were stained red, so utterly crimson that he felt sick, nauseated from the act that he had to commit in order to survive. He had killed him, not only for his own life, but to prevent his memory of his elder brother from being tainted with the poison of death that seeped agonisingly through his corpse.

It was an ending that he had never wished for anybody that he cared for, and Merle had the likeliness to be an ass most days, but that hadn’t stopped Daryl from seeing him as the only one in his bloodline that he gave a shit about. To his pitiful luck, the entrance of the cell block was hauntingly empty, aside from the sleep filled breaths that echoed through the large space, and he felt guilty enough already, more so considering that he could awaken his girl from her state of rest.

The mattress wasn’t the comfiest, it was to be expected since it was setup to be the bed for a felon, but he slipped through the walkway after the stairs, tousling his growing locks in critical agitation, as he was pierced metaphorically over and over again with the same blade that had erased any trace of his brother from existence.

“Daryl..?” Her voice was soft and as smooth as the finest silk, causing a lulling of tenseness to roll off his shoulders; his walls were crumbling, and he didn’t mind as he felt he needed to extinguish his emotions in the ritual that his father forbade. His tears had only made his father hit him more, until he was a breathing carcass of numbness. But with her, his girl, she would never bring judgement upon him for being berated with human emotion.

“I’m back.” Daryl responded indifferently, struck blankly with the fact that he would never see his brother again. He’d attempted to scrub his hands clean with the water bottle y/n kept by the hovering silver sink, but it didn’t wash away the shocking brutality that had succumbed him. Merle could never return from becoming a walker and having multiple stab wounds in his brain, and Daryl wouldn’t return from the terror either. It would remain with him for the rest of his lifespan, however long that would be.

“Dar…” She called to him once again, afraid of what he may reveal, as he shook his hands dry. As he turned, she could see the digressed state of his bloodshot eyes, and he was withered with the haunting memory that was looping visually in his brain. “Come here baby, I’m here.” He couldn’t help but resist, staggering towards her as he crumbled, splaying his body across her lap as he allowed wrecked sobs to escape him. Her hands combed through his hair, as she too felt the necessity to cry. He returned, with no Merle, it could only mean one thing…

A tear, lonely and unforced rolled down y/n’s cheek, as she realised that their mismatched family had gotten smaller. “He-he’s dead.” Daryl gasped out with heavy breaths, feeling his chest tightening from the situation that had made fate its own property. “Merle-”, she shushed him gently; he needn’t vocalise the looming death that embraced the world when he was struggling with getting a single word out. He’d settle a little, if she allowed him to continue laying across her lap, and she had no qualms against it.

“I know honey.” She whispered with an underlying of grief, caressing his scalp a little more to soothe him. “It wasn’t your fault. You did all he could.” The what if’s eventually faded from Daryl’s mind, as his eyes shut and he felt peace from feeling his girl’s fingers raking sensitively through his hair, seeing nothing but a pitch black nothingness.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic

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colderdrafts · 2 months

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13 – A disturbance

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. TW for gore and violence. First Previous Next

Dimly lit tunnels passes by you in a blur as you walk, unseen forces tugging at you to keep moving. So far, you’ve passed by the path to collect water, the living room, the library, the sleeping quarters - deeper and deeper into the depths of Dren's extensive and confusing home. Eventually, you find yourself at the entrance of tunnels you’ve yet to travel.

You lantern does not do much to illuminate what lies beyond this point. It's like staring into a void. While Dren has vigilantly made sure the tunnels you most frequent remains lit, other tunnels leading to and from those places are not. Still, the agitated anxious energy will not leave you.

I need to move.

You take a few tentative steps forward. The need does not diminish. Is the air colder here? Or are you just nervous?

What a silly thought. There's nothing to be scared of down here.

You press on, and soon, you find yourself accompanied by darkness.

Well, the dark, at least, you correct yourself, throwing an annoyed thought the harpy’s way.

You're not too worried about getting lost, knowing Dren will instinctively know where you are and can come guide you back. Still, there's something eerie about venturing alone into the unfamiliar dark tunnels, with only a lantern to guide you. The deafening silence down here still gets to you at times. It’s just so achingly empty.

Perhaps it's something one can get used to. After all, Dren still lives here, doesn’t he? But even if it is a spider thing, you can't fathom it's very pleasant.

The dark stretches before you, and you feel a little better the further you go, trying to keep track of the turns you make.

You come by yet another small stream that floats gently through the tunnel you’re in, carved out so it gently trinkles along the side of the wall. Neatly out of the main path, yet still serving as a guide. Perhaps it’ll lead you somewhere, and it should at least be easy enough to track back. You watch the swirling patterns carved into the wall as you follow the small stream, listening to the calm flow of water that fills the otherwise heavy stillness.

Several indents in the web above you signals there’s tunnels leading up too. Seems Dren has thoroughly connected to this part of the cave as well. You’d probably be able to reach up and climb them if you really wanted to. That is, if the thread he’s spun here isn’t that sticky stuff he uses for traps. You’d not want to be tangled in one of those again.

You gingerly reach out toward the ceiling to test it, when a very, very subtle sound of movement somewhere to your right catches your attention.

Movement? Down here? That can’t be right.

Nothing but you should be alive this far down, should it?

This must be your mind playing tricks. Your brain just wants to fill out the quiet with something. Regardless, goosebumps appear on your skin. With them, comes the continued need to move.

“Fine, I’m going,” you mutter to no one in annoyance. Why are your hands suddenly so clammy? The parasite inside you churns with worry at the thought of hostility, though not in the way of Morgan’s presence bearing down on you. So where is this sudden burst of anxiety coming from?

A muffled sound like rock hitting dirt disturbs your train of thought. It came from the same direction.

You frown. Perhaps you should follow your instinct here. If anything, to prove to yourself everything’s fine.

You quickly pull down the cover of the lantern, leaving you in the complete dark, but with your hand on the wall you feel your way forward towards the sound.

There’s a small indent on the wall, and feeling around it, you find there's a tunnel leading up, thankfully closer to the ground where you can reach it. The sounds might have come from somewhere within.

You quietly lift yourself up. It's not far, and soon you're standing in a slightly smaller tunnel. It goes upwards. From here, you can hear it much better. The movement turns to quiet muttering. Unfamiliar voices. Up ahead, you see the faintest light source.

Your heartbeat quickens. You're definitely not alone.

Your fears confirmed, you sneak forward as quietly as you can, the soft padding of your feet on the dirt below. Something’s wrong. You stare at the swirling patterns there, finding some comfort knowing you're still in touch with a highly efficient defense system. But why hasn't it set of the one who usually monitors it?

You reach the end of the smaller tunnel, the faint lights shining from within illuminating the walls and floor. Interestingly, in this spot, Dren has apparently decided to cover every surface in a soft padding of web. You carefully peek around the corner with bated breath.

Oh.

It would seem you've found out where Dren hides his eggs.

You're looking into a small enclave covered in web from ceiling to ground. In the middle is a small cluster of three orange, oval eggs about the size of soccer-balls, covered in a protective layer of webbing. It takes second for you to register the utter defenselessness of them. How much you've just imposed on the sanctity of their hidden room.

If not for the light piercing the dark you just came from, you'd never have found them. You glance further into the room, and find its source. Your blood runs cold.

Three hooded figures are standing at the opposite end of the alcove, eyeing the eggs and quietly whispering in foreign noises to each other. One of them moves their head, and you catch a glimpse of blueish tinted scales of their skin. You grit your teeth, realizing what's happening.

They're snatchers. There's no doubt about it.

Behind them, there is a small open hole in the wall, barely big enough to fit an adult human through.

So that's how they did it. Your grip on the lantern tightens, wondering if these are the same thieves that made way with the rest of Dren's children. And finding a need to plant a solid fist in each of their faces, as it seems they're about to finish the job. Nasty little things.

What should you do?

If you start yelling for Dren they'll undoubtedly find you, and you can easily picture what could happen: You get attacked, and they haul ass out of there, snatching whatever they can carry quickly and make away.

It risks the arachnid losing the rest of his offspring. You don't want to know how he'd react to that. You can hardly bear leaving him even with his family still alive.

You should at least try to warn him.

Soundlessly, you run your fingers through the soft webs to find the carvings on the wall, finding the strong, silky warning thread within. You shake it vigorously. Some of the webbing breaks off and sticks to your hand, but you don't have time to worry about that right now, picking out another one and shaking that one too for good measure.

Simultaneously, the snatchers start moving.

One of them steps extremely carefully toward the eggs. In the light from their lantern, you spot that it has covered its feet in web, and carefully moves so that no other part of its body touches it.

Huh. Clever.

You shake the web again. If Dren doesn't feel it, he's going to lose them. You bite back a loud protest yell as the thief slowly reaches toward one of the defenseless orbs on the floor.

It would appear you need to make a decision. You need to move.

At this rate, Dren will never make it in time before they're gone. And you're not going to stand idly by and witness a kidnapping without at least trying to intervene. You'll have to buy their parent some time. You brace yourself for potentially one of the most stupidly risky acts you've performed in your life.

"Leave them!" you bellow suddenly, and fling yourself toward the snatcher closest to the eggs.

Element of surprise on your side, a gnarly startled screech escapes the creature, and it immediately stumbles backwards towards its fellows, and out of your way.

You quickly jump forward and stand in front of the eggs protectively, shielding them from the offenders with your arms out in an awkward position.

It's quiet a moment. The snatchers stare at you, and up close now you recognize one of them as the red one who spotted you back at the marketplace. Their yellow eyes once again stare into yours.

They bare their teeth at you and hiss something, guttural words you can’t make sense of.

The other two step out to flank you, and suddenly the sharp ends of a pair of spears are pointed at you.

You ball your fists to keep your hands from shaking.

"I'm not letting you take them," you hiss back, relying on a bubbling protective anger to keep you grounded. "I've already called for the parent. You should get out of here while you still can."

You're bluffing, and frankly you don't even know if these creatures can understand you. But you don't get any option to find out as the red one snarls something else. In a split second, the blue one on their left lunges at you, spear at the ready.

You instinctively throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging the tip of the wooden weapon. However, you've left the eggs exposed when doing so.

The other two immediately take advantage and close in on them, while the blue one focuses on keeping you occupied.

You grab two handfuls of web from your position close to the wall and pull with all your might. It comes off with a soft ripping noise, and you quickly hurl it at your blue assailant.

The blue one rambles angrily, probably in no kind terms telling you to knock it off, tearing the sticky threads off their body. They hiss, and jab forward, stabbing at you again. You jump sideways, but the creature is quick to reassess their aim. The weapon connects with the tissue in your shoulder and you grunt in pain, feeling warm blood trickle down your arm.

The other two have meanwhile managed to pick up one of the eggs each. You don’t have time to intervene with the blue one still coming at you.

In an act of desperation you swing your lantern at them, hitting them over the head with a loud clonk. The glass shatters, sharp splinters flying across the room. The blue one staggers back, dazed and now bleeding.

You take the opportunity and step forward, shoving your uninjured shoulder into their side. They're smaller than you, and trips and falls, further disturbing the webbing below.

You manage to snatch up their discarded spear, and rush ahead to cut the thieves off, blocking the small hole that makes the exit. You point it at the two fleeing with one egg each.

"Put them down!" you demand.

The two others stop momentarily, hissing at you, but while your focus was on them, the blue one has recovered. You feel a scaled arm locking around you and catching you in a headlock. You're roughly pulled backwards, losing your grip on the spear. The other two waste no time hurrying toward the exit with their prices.

The one furthest behind does not get that far. A flash of black snatches it clean off the ground, squealing.

Their red companion turns in time to watch a pair of long, hairy and pitch black spider’s legs slowly appearing from the opening of the alcove, having grappled their friend uncomfortably tight around the stomach.

Dren fully enters the room, his imposing presence suddenly making the small room feel much smaller. He's holding the snatcher with his front legs, and they're kicking and snarling in his grip, desperately struggling to escape. The egg lands on the soft webbing below with a soft bump, thankfully unharmed, and Dren quickly uses another leg to pull it behind him to safety.

Then he let's out a disgusted huff, and rapidly slams the snatcher into the ground. Following the movement is a loud crunch.

You hear bone snapping with the force of the impact, and the snatcher squeals in agony.

Dren carelessly lifts the screaming creature, and smashes them against the floor again. Their pained cries echoes through the otherwise deadly silence of the cave.

You can do nothing but stare.

Drens lifts the snatcher, and knocks them against the floor again.

And again.

Three more times, until the squealing snatcher goes silent save for a wet gurgling wheeze, their body reduced to a broken pile of bones and meat.

A cold sweat breaks out as your entire body shudders, distraught from the horrific sight.

How long until he cracks, and simply kills you?

The grip on your head lessens in favor of gripping around your upper body tightly, and you hear a small whine from the blue snatcher holding you captive. It feels like it now focuses more on using you as a meat shield rather than trapping you.

Dren looks up from the ruined carcass below him and his eyes dart between the one holding you, and the one holding his second egg, eerily quiet with and odd stoic expression. Fresh blood drips from his carapace, his mandibles clicking in contemplation, like wondering who he should sink his fangs into next.

No one dares move.

You suddenly understand why an insect freezes in the presence of a predator, fearful of what any slight disturbance in the air would set off. It's like he's an arrow nocked on a bow, ready to release at any moment, and you pray to anyone who might be listening that you're not its target.

You suddenly feel something sharp poking your side and let out a small gasp. Not a millisecond later, you let out a yell as a large spiders body is suddenly towering over you, there in a flash. The blue snatcher’s grip on you vanishes in an instant as it flies upwards, dropping a knife that falls to the webbed ground with a soft thud.

You stumble forward, landing clumsily on your knees and palms in the sticky webbing below. All around you there is movement as Dren paces around, his lower body above you. There's an uncanny wet tearing noise, and you suddenly see droplets of blood falling on the floor as yet another squealing egg-thief is efficiently silenced.

You hear footsteps, as the last of the snatchers, the red one, makes a beeline for the small exit, sprinting across the alcove with one egg in each arm.

Dren's entire body springs to attention as he moves above you, pointing in the direction of the last thief. He dashes toward it, carelessly throwing the now disfigured body he was holding aside. They splatter against the wall with a squelch, leaving blood stains behind as they join their dead comrade.

The last snatcher barely manages to leap through the opening before Dren tramples them flat.

"NO!" Dren roars, and starts pushing his legs into the opening, too big to fit through. "NO!"

His enraged outburst echoes through the cave as he claws at the opening in the wall, trying to make it bigger so he can give chase.

You sit up and stare at him, feeling your heart galloping, a stench of blood and sweat in the air. Your eyes dart to the two mangled corpses carelessly thrown to the ground, and you find it odd. How were these lumps of meat two people just mere seconds ago? The final egg lies motionless on the floor close to them, vulnerable and harmless. The very beginning of this whole conflict.

What will they be capable when they grow up?

You look back to Dren, your answer, your companion and protector, watching him completely loose himself along the safety of his last eggs.

There's an odd sort of clarity in your mind then, watching this unfold. Like being inside the eye of a storm.

Something in the way Dren tears through his home without a care of ruining what he has spend so long building, in between his wheezes and snarling, you're reminded of what he is in this moment. Despite having witnessed him tearing two people apart in seconds flat, despite the bloody scene and ruthless violence - right now, he's just a parent, desperately trying to avoid any harm coming to his children.

You can feel it. You can sense the pain and fear fueling his wrath, and you find it links to something you share with him. Something inside you pops, a sudden burst of anger demands you take action.

Dren won’t fit through that hole. But you will.

Quickly, you find yourself on your feet, picking up the discarded spear and rushing toward the custodian to help.

"Move!" you yell at Dren, and he doesn't hear you at all, still feverishly ripping whole chunks out of the wall. "Out of the way!"

You push past the flurry of movement that is his legs, and shiver when they grace across your back when you interrupt, but thankfully no further - seems he's still coherent enough not to squash you - so you quickly slip inside the opening to chase down the red thief. The arachnid’s distressed shouting and hissing continues behind you, and you hear him call your name.

You see the light-source up ahead and sprint toward the snatcher, even though you're not really sure what you're going to do if you catch it. The tunnel is narrow and you need to duck your head under roots traveling across the ceiling. The snatcher is quick, but you find yourself at an even pace, even catching up. It carrying two eggs might have given you an advantage in movement.

The snatcher stops up ahead close to a small ladder presumably leading outside. Carefully but quickly, the red one puts the eggs into a basket waiting on the ground next to it. You intercept them there, spear at the ready.

"Give them back!" you yell.

The red snatcher stares up at you in surprise, and meets your threat with a hiss. They take a heavy step forward.

You don't let up. You angrily jab the spear at Red again to force them further back, and away from the eggs.

They snarl at you this time, two long fangs glinting in the dim lantern light as their hands open and closes, considering their options. With their hood back, you notice the red scales covering their head are torn in places. Their yellow eyes are blown wide open, and their nostrils are flaring.

They're afraid.

As they should be.

"Run now, and you may get out of here alive," you spit, trying your words while they're still reluctant to fight. "Get the hell out of dodge before the spider figures out the tunnel has another entrance point."

You're still not sure if the thing even understands you. But they look between you and the basket containing their price, and then glances back the way where a certain large predator has his mind currently set to 'brutally murderous'.

The snatcher takes a few steps backwards, watching you. When you make no move, they turn on their heel, and dashes toward the ladder, leaving the eggs and lantern behind. They glance back at you one last time, before rapidly ascending it into the darkness outside, and out of view.

You keep watch for a few seconds, giving the snatcher time to cover some ground before daring to look away from the opening.

Once certain they've gone, you hurriedly open the basket, and look over the eggs.

They're still orange, slightly translucent, and, most importantly, uninjured. On top of the tough membrane, you see what seems to be an outline of legs. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief, carefully putting a hand on one of them. It’s pleasantly warm.

There's a strange sort of intimacy in staring at these fragile little creatures. After all, Dren's trusted no one to see them, not even you.

This is Dren’s children you’re looking at. And you've just saved their lives.

Carefully, your reach down to scoop them up in your arms.

"Holy shit, do not drop them, do not drop them.." you urgently whisper to yourself as you do, anxious you might accidentally do just that.

The warmth emanating from them is familiar, and you hold them close to your chest, carefully making your way back down the tunnel. The weight of them in your arms brings an odd sense of calm to you, despite the haphazard situation.

A brief gust of wind stops you, however, and you glance back at the hole above the ladder.

You almost feel a pull, calling you towards it.

What a bad time to be interrupted. But you could just go and leave everything behind to be somewhere else, couldn't you?

All these emotions, all of this trouble, the blood and violence, everything you'll need to fix when you get back home. You don't have to do any of it.

It's almost tempting to climb up, if just for a few seconds. Just escape to the outside and feel free of it all.

Escape? You stop and ponder on your own train of thought. That would require I'm a captive.

You look down at the two vulnerable orbs nestled safely in your arms.

No. Something else inside you says. These are more important right now.

You trudge back down the tunnel, ignoring the thing inside you squirming in protest.

Dren has meanwhile managed to turn the opening of the snatcher tunnel into mulch. He's still going at it when you return, now completely silent save for the noise of dirt being ripped apart.

The sight reminds you of the potential danger from this whole confrontation. Dren's current state of mind, and the full view of his powerful legs violently reducing the wall to nothing, is not helping matters. Suddenly, you don’t feel much like a savior. You feel more like a rat hiding inside a crack in the wall, while the cat tries to furiously claw its way towards it.

You step in place for a moment, unsure.

"Dren?" you call out eventually, hesitant.

And the movement halts. You can hear him panting from the effort, tense and awaiting your next words with panicked anticipation.

Your throat is dry. "I- I have them. They're okay.”

Dren’s legs slowly retreat and his head and torso appears in the tunnel entrance. He leans down to peer through it at you.

All his pitch black eyes are wide open and his mandibles are flaring, but something in his expression shifts when he spots you holding his eggs close as to not drop them. Fear? Anger? Desperation? You can't read him at all.

You take a wary step back.

“Please,” he rasps quickly when you do so, and very, very slowly reaches his bloodied hands toward you. Inviting you in with open arms. “Please. Come here.”

There's something eerily familiar in the way he says that, his voice gently rolling through your mind, urging, compelling you, in a way he hasn't done before.

The cold sweat prickling your skin at the feeling makes you reluctant to follow the instruction. Yet, another part quite would like to, would like to indeed, you can trust him and get closer, he’s safe, you know he’s safe- You shake it off, unsure if he's of sound mind to not grab and tear you apart the second you're within reach. Just like he did the previous creature who held his eggs.

Dren swallows, obviously struggling to not continue his rampage to just get them back, to just reach you, to take control of what happens to what is his - armed with the patience of an experienced predator he takes a deep breath, grounding himself as to not startle you further, lest you take flight.

"Please," he says softly, normally, waving his hands in a beckoning motion.

You realize the amount of power you hold over him right now. If you wanted, you could turn on your heel and walk away. You could name a price. You could throw the eggs on the ground and trample them flat, and he would be powerless to stop you.

But you don't. These eggs are innocent and vulnerable, and in front of you stands a sure-fire way to ensure that nothing will happen to them.

You still see Dren there despite the terror. You recognize his patience and fiercely protective nature, that’s been there with you every step of the way. Now, once again, working to keep everything he cares about safe.

You slowly make your way toward him. He’s staring at you almost like in a trance.

You had prepared to hand the eggs over once you reached him, but Dren slowly moves back, allowing you to pass through the carnage that used to be an entry point. Just watching with wide eyes. You’re not exactly sure what he expects you to do. But he hasn't stopped you, so you keep going.

You step across the alcove, and carefully place the eggs back to their right place in the middle of the room. Dren comes up next to you, and places the third next to them. In silence, he starts gently wrapping some of the ruined webbing over them again with his front legs. You move back to give him space to fuss over them.

You've barely taken a step before he rapidly turns, and suddenly lunges towards you. With his arms, he snatches you clean off the ground.

You can't hold back a small scream as you're suddenly in the air - this is it, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm so so dead - which Dren completely ignores, as he forcibly squeezes you against his torso in a bone-crushing embrace.

Your face is flattened against his fur-covered shoulder, your arms sprawled to the side in shock, legs dangling uselessly over the ground. You hardly dare breathe, not that the force currently pressuring your ribs allows for much lung expansion anyway.

Dren buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He's shaking.

"Thank you," he breathes, clutching you a bit tighter. "Thank you."

You dangle awkwardly in his arms, trying to calm your racing pulse, taking shuddering breaths. Oh. It would appear this is gratitude.

Gingerly, not really knowing what else to do, you wrap your arms around him in turn, and he shudders when you do so. He shifts then, and you feel yourself being leaned backwards, settled on his pedipalps. Your backside is leaning against the web-covered eggs, and his front legs curl around them, holding both you and them in place.

He holds you like that for a while. You let him cling to you, while he works through whatever it is he needs to work through to calm down after this experience.

You don't dare glance toward the mutilated corpses currently concealed behind the furred shoulder, your face is pressing against. You ignore the stains of crimson littering the space. There's nothing you can really say, so you settle for running your fingers through the hairs on the back of Dren’s neck in a soothing manner. A soft chitter suggests he likes it when you do that, at least.

"It's alright," you mutter softly, testing the waters. "They're safe."

"Safe," he repeats, nodding against your shoulder. “Safe.”

There’s a pause, and then Dren readjusts his hold a bit. You feel him tense, like preparing for an impact. He sucks in a breath before he speaks.

“Give me the winter,” he blurts hurriedly. Like he needed to get it out before it was too late. “Just the winter.”

You try to lean back and get a look at him, but his grip won’t let you move an inch away - as if he's afraid to let you go.

“What..?” you try as softly as you can. He’s getting agitated.

“Just until they hatch, until they can fend for themselves,” Dren elaborates, rushed words leaving him like rapid fire. “I’ll help you get back home, I promise, whatever you need, I'll do it. Just – please stay. Act as my sentry. Give me the winter.”

Supposedly it makes sense he would do this now, of all times. It would seem this is what it took to finally break him.

You lean further into him, if anything to silently let him know you're not just going up in thin air, so maybe his death-grip on you lessens a bit.

You sigh. "That's - but Dren, you know I'm not-"

"You're perfect," he states firmly, cutting you off. The tips of his fangs brush over your neck as he speaks. "You kept watch and called for me when it was needed - risked yourself to defend my young, despite them not being your responsibility - you've already done more than I could ever ask. I have no right, I know that, but I can't - If I lose anyone else-" he trails off in his rambling. "Please. Give me the winter."

It's not like you're actually much in a position to say 'no', but you don't really get the feeling Dren is thinking about that right now. Like your refusal means you're going to slip through his fingers, and vanish in an instant. As if he's not the one holding your only known key home. As if he's not perfectly capable of keeping you trapped here, if he so did desire.

But maybe his conviction in this ultimately being your choice means something - maybe that actually means everything.

You sense the remaining vulnerable eggs pressing against your backside, a faint reminder of what you did tonight. It seems it's wasn't really you who needed to move.

You’re already connected to them, aren’t you? How could you possibly leave everything behind? Not now. Not after all of this.

What's a few months of darkness as a price for keeping everyone you care about alive?

"Okay," you whisper, clutching him back. You can feel a pressure growing around you, like you’ve just used your entire body to pick up something heavy. It’s warm. "Okay, you can have my winter."

"I will let you go," Dren assures you firmly, speaking through his teeth. "It will hurt, I know it will, for both of us, but I vow to you, when all this is over, when we're all safe-"

"I know," you placate. "I trust you."

Dren breathes out, and with it leaves the tension in his body. He finally leans back to look at you again, and there are tears in black eyes. Carefully, gently, his hands reaches up to cup your face. You stare at him like you did earlier this very day and, once again, he effortlessly draws you in.

Because looking at him like this is nice. It’s really, really nice. You’re being enveloped in a warm blanket, soothing all worry you’ve ever had. You can feel a pull from him, coaxing you closer, something gently wrapping around you. Of course this will work, of course you’re in good hands here, of course Dren knows what’s best -

A sudden piercing pain shoots through you in retaliation, and you gasp, severing eye contact and instinctively trying to curl up to protect yourself. It's no use. The pain strikes your core, like a gun was fired from within. Something inside you heavily disagrees.

Dren hisses at the interruption and deftly pulls you to him again, like a futile attempt to shield you with his body. You can feel his formerly calm energy clouded in a protective fury, zeroing in on the interloper, surrounding it, grabbing it, strangling it.

You cry out. You can’t help it. The parasite’s pain is as much yours as it is its, and the agony is unbearable. It feels like your chest is being crushed, like your ribs can shatter and destroy your innards at any moment.

“I know, Sweetness, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, shh,” Dren soothes you, holding you against him with a hand over the back of your neck, keeping his grip on the parasite and angrily thwarting it.

It feels like forever you're in this pure world of pain, at some point you may have started begging for it to stop, only wishing dearly for everything to turn quiet, for it to be over. You can faintly hear reassurances and apologies in the foggy cloud of your consciousness, and something, someone, peers into your mind, feeling for a thread intertwining with the very core of your being.

Then, there’s a small release of pressure, like when you’ve finished tying the knot of a shoelace. At the end, you let it go, sitting neat and comfortably tight.

And then the pain is gone.

It’s like the hook trapping the fish suddenly disappearing from the fight. The struggle is over, leaving the fishing line there, suspended in the flowing water. Useless.

Dren’s breath is warm on your neck as he chitters and purrs to calm you, pedipalps and arms around you like both of his halves are checking on you at once. You just hold on to him, feeling an immense relief coursing through your body. The pressure is gone, leaving you sore, and completely exhausted. Vulnerable.

And you can feel him. Really, feel him.

Dren is everywhere around you, inside you, his energy twisting and turning in a strange dance. He’s happy. So, so happy. The overflowing emotion is infectious, and you struggle to hold in an odd strangled laugh full of sobs.

And it dawns on you now what you’ve just agreed to. What you’ve just accepted into your life. And, if what you’ve learned from the harpy is true, you’ve just acquired the qualifications for your new job as a sentry.

#colderwriting #in which things finally fall in place #or something like that..#drider x you #monster x reader #drider #drider x reader #uv #terato #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human

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bucknastysbabe · 9 months

Text

Hey look I finished an AU bingo ask! I enjoyed this one so much💖 I felt the brain cooking making up and putting together actual smart people science words. Thanks for the request!

AU bingo - Sci-fi Horror - Aemond Targaryen

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Murder AI Aemond, obsessive/stalking behaviors, TW TW TW: NONCON AND DUBCON. The noncon is not a full scene but warning, non-descript mass murder, scientist!reader, nanotechnology, spaceship setting, somewhere far in the future, pnv!sex, masturbation, Aemond kinda has a mommy kink if you squint and a Bible quote kink lmfao, v!fingering, manipulation, space odyssey gone wrong trope

A/N: No beta I’ll prob come back and fix some shit soon

The ship landed with a faint thud on the green, green exo-planet. You followed Aemond along quietly, meek, fearful, broken. Coming down the unfurled slanted walkway a sweet smell hit your senses. Miles of flowery fields waved, a perfect breathable atmosphere. In the distance, avian-like creatures tittered. A fragment of peace was in your tattered soul.

He hummed softly, gesturing to the beauty.

"God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

You felt that Aemond was the serpent and remained quiet, breathing in the fresh air. Nothing like home. Maybe you could start anew. The man turned to look, stating, “But we’re God. We have a duty. We shall make this planet everything that Earth has failed to do. Join me, be my Eve will you?” He seemed genuine.

A long fingered hand extended to you. Your gaze flickered between that glowing eye and the outstretched digits. You grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Together, looking upon the horizon you murmured, “Yes, my Adam. You were the greatest creation after all.”

He pecked the stray tear rolling down your cheek, squeezing your palm, lips curling in glee.

It wasn’t meant to end up like that for you. At one point Aemond was your AI. Artificially Enhanced Monitor Of Nanites Directive. Simply installed cameras and layer upon layers of wafer thin circuits loaded with information. Aemond preferred to be referred as he. He was also an arrogant bastard, but helpful as was his intent.

Your coworker Greaves and Aemond did not get along well, the AI criticizing his work. You’d tune them out with plugs or music buds. The scientist laden ship had a destination to a far away mining colony. The general’s plan was to find a way to used nano-technology to replace missing arms, eyes, and other wounds. Time was running thin but the blonde man in cryo-stasis would be your second trial.

The first did not end well. Her body rejected the technology, turning the human into a mindless wreck. Greaves blamed it on you, then General Hightower gave a harsh scolding and upped the time. Aemond consoled you a bit, offering advice. He seemed to take a liking to your banter on the nanotechnology.

He wasn’t the only AI. Other sectors of the ship worked on different but crucial projects such as alien anti-parasitics and ramping up on space suits equipped for defense. Colonization was on the horizon.

Plucking and prodding the little nanites with different stimuli had them snapping and shifting, seeking to find a form. You just needed to code what form they would assume. Aemond’s clipped voice echoed over you. He suggested, “Have you tried printing a molded cast of the man’s eye socket?”

Perching your chin on a shaky hand you smiled, “I swear, it’s always the simplest things I miss. Thank you Aemond.”

“You would have realized soon, want me to begin the scans and print? Likely you need rest, I know the stress of the upped time is draining your bodily function. The brain needs much more sleep, especially one as bright as yours.”

You blushed a bit, fumbling your tweezers. The AI had a certain…courtly way of words. His sort of programming wouldn’t allow for flirtation but it certainly came across like that. Greaves mocked you and the intelligence’s ‘crush’. Greaves always found a way to make you miserable. You did all the major work and he got the accolades.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you announced, “You’re right, I’ll go rest for a bit, get back to work with the mold. Thank you again, and engage lockdown protocol so he doesn’t mess up my work like last time.”

“Engaging it now, sleep well Miss.”

You crashed as soon as you reached your quarters, sleeping deeply and sound. Upon awakening and getting dressed you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Just chalk it up to your fried nerves. It wasn’t the first time and this was an older ship, ghost stories had gotten to you before.

The mold was in a canister from the printer, you scrubbing up and carefully taking it out. Aemond politely asked, “Did you sleep well? You look refreshed.” Blushing yet again you murmured, “Very much needed, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”

“Greaves has been in the mess hall, you will likely get some peace now. Shall we begin?”

The armor folded off your precious lab table, the nanites dormant from no stimuli. Pressing a button you placed the mold into a hatch, sending it up into the chamber. In fluid motions the little bugs covered the new space, feeling and searching before all inserting into the eye socket, glowing a bright blue.

You laughed in glee, “Yes! Yes perfect! Look at that Aemond, they’ve formed a pupil!”

Shining light on the false eye the pupil contracted and flinched, the illusion of eyelids closing. You cheered again in excitement, getting Aemond to video the big jump in success. You could start phase two soon. Just had to deal with your partner.

“Amazing miss, amazing. They took to it well. Shall I send the material to command?”

You grinned and looked up at the camera, “Please! God bless! A miracle!” You’d continue to test the nanite organ until the hiss of the door opening alerted you.

Greaves stumbled in, slurring, “I see you got the jump on me this time. Did the creep robot do it for you? Weird fucking thing.” He leaned against the sterile white wall, grinning with hazy eyes. You frowned and stood up, “That’s his job, to aid us. I’m sure since you work so hard in the mess hall you’ll get your accolades again.”

He squinted at you, arms folding against a chest, “Whas’ your fuckin’ problem with me? You’d rather chat with a bunch of circuits than work with your assigned partner!” His already reddened face darkened, taking another step forward.

Fear laced through your veins. Aemond somehow sneered, “Because you, her lab partner, sold her out on your own mistake. Go to bed, your alcohol content levels are above the limit.” Greaves threw his hands up and hollered, “Oh fuck you!” He stumbled to the switch, you and the AI shutting up when Greaves switched him off.

The bigger man kept stalking closer, eyes on you in an darkened manner. Like a predator closing in on his prey. You squeaked, “Calm down Greaves, I can show you everything!” He hissed, “I already heard everything and the video, bitch! S’bout time someone put you in your place again.”

He snatched your wrist, slamming you against the steel cryo-chamber. You howled in pain, trying to escape. Greaves’ breath stunk of liquor, hot and rank, sweating on your clean skin. He pushed himself on top of you, mumbling frantically, “Maybe you need to get fucked, all that pent up shit from your computer boyfriend.”

You struggled and cursed, “Fuck you! Get off of me! I will report you!” He smirked, “Try me. No cameras with your prince in shining circuits around.” He forced himself between your legs, clumsy drunk hands yanking at your pants. You cried in fear again, kneeing and biting, getting a clock to the head.

Dazedly you remembered the tweezers in your coat. Playing limp had the idiot croon, “Good girl, thats what we want to see.” He shoved his face into your neck, hands prying your lab pants knee height now. Thats when you struck, slowly, slowly, pulling the tweezers from your pocket and jabbing him in the side, hopefully near a lung.

Greaves hollered in pain, breath wheezy and stilted, blood dripping from white cloth. You kicked and removed yourself, stumbling and bumping around in a frenzy as your partner tried to scramble after you. First, you switched on Aemond again. Secondly, you ran out into the hallway, finding the nearest guard, lump on your forehead and clothes torn.

You weren’t sure what happened back in the lab while you were taken into medbay and seen by HR. But after given a small dose of sedatives and care for your head wound, you passed Greaves strapped into a gurney, howling, “Fuck you! Fuck you! He’s gonna kill me! Don’t leave me locked away, please! She’s lying!”

You gaped, unnerved by his fearful warbling and frantic yells. Aemond would be waiting. He probably was worried. When the door hissed open the familiar clipped tone hastily asked, “Are you alright miss? I- I would have helped, sent a warning. I apologize, please, is everything okay?”

You wearily sat on your lab chair, rubbing pounding temples. “To be honest, I don’t know. H-he tried to rape me, said such nasty things, it was all so sudden. But he should go on tribunal about it. For some reason I am glad you missed it.”

“For the best,” he said bitterly, “Why don’t you go rest again? I’ll keep watch over everything. Maybe we can try more tests tomorrow. He’ll get what he deserves.”

An ominous feeling settled over you but off to your personal quarters you went, draining the pills with water. You stared at the ceiling, mind reeling, before emptiness. A bright blue haunted your dreams. Just there. Flexing and dilating. Trying to see through you. Understand.

It was a weary wait for the tribunal. Your research was put on halt and you on mandatory isolation besides meeting with a therapist. There was an order made and interviews occurring. The tedious process of moving someone out of a different department to assist you.

So it was just you. Aemond too. He wasn’t much of a talkative AI as of late, short responses and antagonizing little ‘hms’ or ‘very well miss.’ You began to ignore the effervescent blue light, him doing the same. You knew he was watching, that little burn in the back of your head.

In the meantime you read your Bible, did yoga, wearily watched the port window, occasionally would go into the lab to stare at your halted work. You pulled open the container for the cryochamber, staring down at the frozen man. He had a handsome face, chiseled and lean, long nose, sharp jaw.

Your eyes lingered down his rangy form, this man obviously was athletic of sorts. Or maybe a simple nobody, just managed to get into the program after what happened to his eye. Between his long legs laid his soft cock, you stared for a second too long before-

“Is that not inappropriate?”

Startled, you whipped around to see Aemond’s blue light in your face. You snapped, “It was purely medical!” His laugh, raspy and grating, echoed in the white lab. You frowned and returned to your room, slapping the button for the door to hiss shut.

You’d go take a shower, blood heated from anger and…something else. Under the hot stream of water you imagined the gorgeous subject with that familiar blue, caressing and stroking your overwhelmed body. It had been too long, your hand awkwardly jerking between your swollen lips until you came with a stifled grunt.

Afterward you felt exposed and paranoid, like Aemond could pry into the bathroom, chuckling at your obvious behavior. But there wasn’t any cameras in that bathroom…that you were aware of. Sitting on your bed, guilt rose up your back. You’d pray.

More time passed before you were selected to testify for the tribunal. Greaves’ crew made a good argument that Aemond and you planned on his downfall. He claimed that the AI had gone wrong somewhere, developed the notion it could possess feelings, how he had been threatened.

Shakily you testified that Aemond was forced off and the board could check, then how you’d been forced upon without consent. They tried to cross-examine but you held strong. Teary by the end, they moved on and you sat by your appointed admiral. She rubbed your shoulders.

Greaves was sentenced to hard labor, and would remain in isolation on the ship until reaching the mining colony, where he would serve out the sentence. They appointed, sadly, another male to fill your exiled partner’s position.

But you could get back to work.

Aemond was in a right mood when you returned to the lab. Questioning you sharply on what occurred, where Greaves’ would go, did you get a new partner. You answered them all, rubbing your temples, the AI could be quite intense.

“Aemond!,” you snapped.

“What miss?”

“Are you trying to induce a panic attack? Greaves is in the bottom of the ship, I’m back to work, and they have a man named Herron coming from robotics to fill in.”

“Another male? All things considered? It’s obvious you and I could get the job done.”

You sighed, “I know. But it’s what they said. Do you just want to run some stimuli tests?”

He agreed, seemingly placated by the offer, blue light flexing. The pair of you would work on the mold’s ability to sense and perceive, how well would the nanites adapt to the brain. Your eyes grew droopy after awhile, Aemond humming, “Why don’t you go to bed?” Nodding blearily, you stumbled off to the adjacent bedroom, completely forgetting to put on any of the safety precautions for the night.

While you slept deeply, Aemond had some things to do. Everything was open for his command, including the nanites and subject. He had a great plan, and it would not fail. First he needed to go pay a visit to Greaves, infiltrating the entire AI system. Poor miss, she was so tired, forgot everything. Wonderful little creature. He’d help.

Feeling refreshed in the morning, you dragged yourself to the mess hall, receiving stares upon stares. You grabbed a salad and finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened?” A female scientist from anti-parasitic whispered dramatically, “How do you not know? Greaves was murdered? All of the oxygen was depleted from his cell.” Your stomach fell, head going swimmy.

Stumbling up from the bench, ignoring your food, heart beating faster and faster, you crashed into the lab. Your voice cracked when you shouted, “Aemond!” His voice returned, but from a different place, a different body. The blue eye shone and twinkled at you, fine lips curling upward.

“You should be thanking me, miss,” the AI standing in the subject’s body said.

It went black. Too much.

Thrashing awake, big hands held you down, long legs caging your own in. The handsome face, long blonde hair tickled your skin, fucking Aemond! “What did you do? What have you done? Aemond!,” you cried. He shushed and cooed with that devious smirk, holding you still until the panic turned to resignation. He swiped a stray tear from your eye.

“Be still and know that I am God,” he sighed.

You grew fearful again, the fact that he knew you owned a Bible and just recited it to your face said too much. How much had he seen. Aemond grew more comfortable atop of you, stroking your hair. He cocked his head and stated, “I know everything about you. You’re all that I need, truly. The perfect human.”

You wanted to spit in his face, but the petting and warmth was getting to that part of you that craved the attention, the fact you’d been in the shadows all your life. But he was a murderer— the rational part of your brain howled. Instead came out a warbling, “Me? Perfect?“

Aemond drew his new face closer, drawing a spindly finger down from your chin to chest. “I’ve been on this ship a long time, and no one has spoken to me like you. Not since my creator. She’s gone. But you have captured me, ensnared me somehow.”

One of your legs slipped round his long ones, suddenly overwhelmed with need. All you’d ever wanted was to be seen. He cooed, “I see you lamb, my eve.” More tears leaked down your cheeks as you pled, “Kiss me, see me then, y-you snake.”

A sharp grin erupted on his sharp features before pulling you in with a kiss, both of you unexperienced, a big hand stabilizing your head. You tilted his head for ease of access, a sloppy gnashing of teeth and tongue, lips bruising from the sheer yearning. Aemond moaned deeply, “I see- hah- how you humans love touch so much.”

Your now free hands moved to where they liked, one in silky white-blonde strands, the other just feeling toned shoulders and back. The pair of you had your lip lock grow more attuned, no less passionate, but gliding across each other. You pled again, “Clothes, help, Aemond!” He sat back on his haunches, shivering as his long stiff cock slapped tight belly.

You shucked off your top and bra, him jerking down your bottoms to leave you all to his view. Aemond already had been bare, no clothes were prepared for the subject yet. He inhaled sharply, hands slowly moving down your heaving form, studying ridges and curves, sliding warm fingers between puffy folds. You cried out at that, spasming at the eager expression in return.

Aemond let out a small ‘Hm’ and slid his longest digits into your dripping hole, immediately curling inwards and upwards to drag against sensitive walls. Very, very sensitive walls. Back arched and mouth agape you rolled your hips and whined his name. The man rambled loosely, transfixed, “Having a data bank is quite helpful but nothing comes to this, my Eve.”

He slipped a third finger in, using a calloused thumb to slid around your swollen clit, making you cry louder and writhe under pleasure. He watched ravenously, drinking you in when your peak hit. Gushing onto his pale hand and screeching like a creature, you reached Nirvana for what felt like minutes.

You cried again when his sheathed himself inside of you, no warning, both of you moaning and grunting like animals. The sensitive skin guarding your cunt was ripped now, bleeding, but the fullness of his cock was a ripe distraction. Aemond seemed to be overwhelmed by the sensation, sucking in breath, eyes wide, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

He plastered toned body against your own, moaning gutturally when you wrapped your arms and legs around his larger frame. “Oh- oh- fucking hell- this!” The blonde groaned lowly, nipping your throat, hands bruisingly placed on your waist as he snapped into your slick cunt.

The blunt tip of his cock stirred up familiar feelings of pleasure, tightening and knotting your lower belly. You heaved, “Don’t stop!” A drop of sweat hit your mouth, you licking the salty taste off. So close to human yet not. Yet not. Yet not not not.

A pinch to your oversensitive clit and a batter from his cock sent you into another crest, holding to Aemond for dear life. He moaned your name and white hot spend covered your mound and belly. He kissed your forehead and wiped away the spend with your discarded top, breathing. You sat up a bit and asked, “Where do you go from here? They cannot know?”

Aemond got up, long stride beating your clumsy foal-like stumbling. He stated, “They won’t know my love.” Your own door shut and locked behind his retreating frame. You managed to reach it and beat on the durasteel, crying, “Aemond! Aemond come back! Stop! What are you doing!”

Oh how you’d been fooled.

Oh how you were weak.

Oh how you were just a human pawn when the alarms went off and you watched the bodies float out of the ship, silently screaming and dying as their blood boiled in the vacuum of space.

He returned later, now dressed in the immaculate garb of a commander, hair neatly swept back, eye sparkling. You remained naked and felt like a mouse under his imperious gaze. All energy was gone, you’d cried it out. Aemond strode towards you, boots clicking. He knelt to grab you chin, face tilting to study you. He’d never truly understand the complexities of human emotion, no matter how human he may appear.

Aemond sighed, “I did this for you, for us, those people do not matter. Earth and it’s people are dying. We begin anew. My perfect Eve,” he kissed your swollen lips. “You’ll see. Just wait, I brought you some nicer clothes, have them on.”

The man stood up and gently laid down female commander’s garb, before kneeling to you.

“I know this isn’t registering in your human, wonderfully human, brain, but it’ll make sense later on. I’ve already found a beautiful planet. Not too much longer now. Put on the clothes and meet me on the bridge.”

So you did. What other choice was there.

Twisted though he may be, the AI was never horrid to you. Maybe to others, not you. On the comfortable jacket, pants, and boots went. You tried not to cry any more restyling your hair. Most likely he’d coddle and ‘Hm’ condescendingly.

You laughed maniacally as the thought popped up, “Hey! At least my project was successful!”

#heed the tags #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #sci-fi horror au #aemond targaryen smut

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abbeyofcyn · 8 months

Note

I hope you don't mind me sending the fanfiction through asks! I didn't know about posting it but wanted to share anyway!

-------

Two hours, it barely felt that way, but two hours have passed.

"Want me to take over?" Raph questioned, likely to the other two than to Leo, "Both of you must be tired."

Followed by an "I'm fine, thank you!" and "Just a snack break!"

Leo could barely hear his surroundings, eyes laser focused on the little parasite that had kept his brother in such a state for so long. It was almost over... They'd be free from this nightmare.

"Brain surgery takes four to five hours, but since I didn't have to cut him open we should be done soon," Leo mentioned, mostly to soothe their worries. Maybe also to calm himself down.

"How are you feeling, buddy?"

"Tired, cold... And thirsty." There was a weight to his voice, one Leo wouldn't usually hear from Donnie. "And ready for this to be- ACK!"

"Huh? You shouldn't be able to feel-" Leo's explanation was quickly interrupted by interjections.

"Sensei! His eye!"

"It hurts..."

"Leo!"

He wasn't giving up. "It's almost out!"

"It hurts, it hurts, it HURTS-"

"He's in pain!"

And Leo wanted his brother back. "Hold him down!"

Leo's eyes narrowed in focus, zeroing in on the problem. Keep a cool and steady head, calm down, and assess the situation, "It's trying to grab onto anything within reach."

"Leo! Just hurry up!"

Donnie thrashed. He was moving, the parasite was forcing him to jolt and thrash and neither the metal extensions nor Casey were strong enough. "Shit! Hold him!"

Raph rushed forward, hand on his plastron that moved to his shell. That soft shell. No, Raph!

Donnie's maw drew open, teeth bared and primed. Leo and Raph barely had time to register what it meant, barely had time to react.

"Raph!"

The maw came down on metal; SHELLDON's arm, but it was only a temporary fix.

Too much at once, too little time to think.

Come on, Leo! You have your quick thinking and Donnie's big brain! You're not losing your brother. You AREN'T, you CAN'T.

Pull yourself TOGETHER!

His eyes narrowed at the parasite. It thrashed, trying to grab onto his gloved arm but remain rooted to his brain. It wanted something organic.

Dread settled in Leo's stomach, but his mind was made.

It wants a host. I'll give it one.

He pulled the scalpel away from the portal, gripping the metal tight in his hands. It might just be the last thing he'll feel in that arm, he cherished the feeling. He'll fix it.

"Casey..."

He let his ninpo flood into the scalpel, feeling the light metal shift into the familiar weight of his katana. It wasn't about him.

"I need you to take this."

There wasn't time to hesitate. Not when his FAMILY was at stake. Leo handed Casey the sword.

"And when you see it."

With his teeth, he tore the glove off his hand. He let himself cherish the cool air and breeze, knowing it would be his last.

"I need you to cut off my other arm."

Oh man oh man oh man oh man

This is so good???? I love your writing and the colours you chose for their texts and idk why I was wondering why his text was purple as if I don't even know my own comic so it was extra cool to see it change to blue and aaaaaah

#ask abbey #krang infection comic #I'm screaming crying throwing up #can you just write all my thoughts?

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junowritings · 11 months

Note

Hi friend, I hope I'm not bothering you. I stumbled across your twisted wonderland writings a little bit ago and fell in love with them. They're so good! I was wondering if you could do an angst comfort imagine with Jamil or Kalim where MC overblots? In game, Crowley piles so much work on poor MC, along with MC being the college's resident problem solver, and some of the students have called them worthless due to their inability to cast magic. I was wondering if you could play around with that idea? Regardless, thank you for doing what you do! Hope you have a lovely day.

Hiyya friend thank you for the love <3 I'm glad you've been having fun with these~! I'll admit this started off as a little thing but then the overblot brainrot kicked in thinking about the effects of blot on a non magic user and it spiraled from there lmao. Please do enjoy this though I had a bunch of fun giving my Scarabia boys some love,even if it is filled with angst!

The realization of what’s happening comes too late, as it always does.

Eyes have been everywhere, watching your every move since you clawed your way from that coffin into this twisted wonderland. And each of them have expected something from you, saw fit to use you and take advantage of your situation for their own gains. Making yourself useful seemed to be the only way you could earn any modicum of respect, and so the pressure mounted and mounted as every day saw you taking on more responsibilities than you could handle. But you’d been so hopeful that it wouldn’t be that way forever - things would get easier, and you only needed to put up with the pressure until you got home; Crowley promised you that the day you enrolled at the school, and he wouldn’t lie when he was the only one capable of making that a reality, right?Right?

You should never have believed him; maybe that would have saved you.

This shouldn’t have been possible; with no magic to your name or even a magical presence to call your own the thought of you of all people overblotting was laughable, some cruel joke that was humored for the few seconds before you were deemed magicless, and thus no longer a concern. And yet the impossible pools at your feet and clings to your skin and clothes like a parasite as your brain spirals into a frenzy. All you can think about is what they’ve done to you, what they made you do. You were so useless to all of these people until you had some kind of purpose to serve, was that it? Running their errands; being a personal therapist and caretaker to so many dorms when you were still nursing your own wounds; having to take care of everyone else's problems only to return to your dilapidated corpse of a dorm at the end of the day.

Perhaps it’s the stress, the mental fatigue drawing in all of that leftover magical waste with nowhere to go that accumulated the blot, allowing it to take root after months of being subjected to the worst that magic could do. It’s there which it festered until the pressure became too great, until it now seeps through your bones, your eyes, your fingertips in thick, viscous globs of ink for all to see. And from that blot comes the monster, a patchwork mockery of all of those overblots you’ve dealt with before taking shape of your deepest insecurities and regrets; and your own despondent sobs are drowned out by the screams of its birth as it rises to its full height, writhing and looming overhead.

But it’s imperfect; with no stable magic source to siphon its energy from the blotted creature latched onto you fights only to stay alive. The noises it releases are distorted, a hollow rattle that has the students taking an unconscious step back as a chill settles in the air. Many were smart enough to flee, yet there are those that stay, either foolish or frozen in fear at the sight in front of them.

You’re conscious, barely, the remaining dregs fading in and out of your control as your eyes, half blinded by the inky mass that pours from the blotted thing above you scans the sea of horrified faces. Friends, dormmates, and finally….

…Jamil

♡ Jamil feels the rush of students tripping over themselves to flee, can hear the screams of people too confused or too terrified to understand the impossibility of the situation, but his focus is trained solely on you and the thing that leeches off of you to stay alive. He watches it twist, heaving ink as it takes a defensive stance ready to attack anything that tries to get in its way. Your friends around you all make vain attempts to reach out to you; Ace and Deuce are frantically screaming out for you as they bat away an onslaught of inky limbs, and Grim gets close enough to barely brush your shoulder with his paw before the frantic swipe of the creature nearly sends him careening back in a torn mess had Jack not yanked him back to safety.

♡ For that moment he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him, watching the person who has fought to earn his respect and gain his trust being taken over by the flood of bottled up emotions preyed upon by the blot, and it hits him. Is this what you’d seen during his overblot? Is this how you felt seeing the person you cared for being reduced to a shadow of their deepest hatred and pains? If he closes his eyes he can vaguely recall the horrified look on your face in the muddled memories from his own overblot, but there’s no time to dwell, no time to panic, or scream, or cry when the most important thing is separating you from the blot and making sure you survive. And so he takes a steadying breath, steeling his resolve and shelving his emotions until you’re freed.

♡ Your friends are already mounting an offensive against the overblot and Jamil is right there in stride acting as a defensive force for those better equipped to attack. Each hit has the beast screaming, chunk by chunk being wrested away from its patchwork frame that’s barely holding itself together as is. Your screams echo along with it, only making the fight harder as hesitation hits your friends, Jamil himself almost making the mistake of stepping towards you before catching himself and refocusing on the fight at hand.

♡ He’d caught glimpses of the strain your situation had forced you under, he’d be a fool not to have noticed the pressure you’d been settled with. He knows the pressure well, having to play the part and live your life restricted by the whims of others. And yet every time he’d reached out to you, pulled you to the side away from prying eyes you’d only smiled and told him that you were fine, even if the sallow eyes and the constant tremble in your hands screamed otherwise. Jamil should have never taken you at your word, so sure that if whatever you were dealing with became overwhelming you would open up to someone - open up to him - before it was too much. Who could have ever imagined that it would get to this point? Jamil feels a sickness welling in the pit of his stomach just thinking about it, and the momentary lapse in attention nearly costs him a limb as a writhing hand slams down at his side when the overblot monster lunges forward, warbled voice screaming “-𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐...𝔾𝔼𝕋 𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐-!” again and again.

♡ Your overblot fights harder than anything they’ve faced before, even as the half formed twitching mass of energy that it is. Like an animal caged and surrounded it’s got no qualms pulling every ounce of power it can muster to ensure its survival even if it means turning you into little more than a husk. All it takes is watching you crumble, heaving and choking on some invisible force that saps everything from you for everything to finally snap. Whatever strength the creature pulls from you isn’t enough to keep it standing, and no sooner have you dropped the blot caves in on itself, still reaching out to you for more even in its final moments. In the wake of its dissipation the air is thick with an unspoken pressure, and the remaining students even torn up and bruised all make a beeline for your crumpled body, surrounding you in a wall of frantic calls of your name.

♡There’s a lump in his throat as Jamil approaches the crowd, elbowing his way between Ace and Deuce kneeling before you. His breathing all but stops at the glimpses he catches of you among the hands cradling you, body limp as the remaining blot flakes from your skin and turns to whisps. Those seconds last for an eternity, bated breaths unwilling to ask the question that’s burning on everyone’s tongue.

♡Are you…?

♡The next moment you’re gasping for air, rocketing up and narrowly missing headbutting the vice dormhead as you all but throw yourself up to retch. You miss the collective breath that everyone releases as the world starts to turn once again, relief flooding the atmosphere now that the imminent danger has passed. Someone mentions making sure you’re taken to the infirmary and Jamil can practically see the cogs turning in your head as you panic, finally coming back to your senses. You insist that you can take yourself there, scrambling groggily to your feet and shaking away the mass of hands supporting you only to immediately buckle the second your feet touch the floor.

♡How lucky you are that Jamil catches you before you fall, one arm firmly gripping your elbow and the other pressed against your back to make sure you don’t try getting away on your own again. Surprisingly you don’t argue, in fact you hardly even say a word as Jamil whisks you away from the crowd; the silence is only broken on the walk there when Jamil has to stop you from nearly bucking again. You’re gripping his jacket for support when you ask “Did I hurt them?” focused on your hand wrapped into the fabric and not willing to look at him. There’s a pause, and Jamil watches your knuckles turning pale from your grip like you’re afraid of the answer. “It takes more than that to hurt any of those guys;They’ll be fine.”

♡ Whether it’s the answer you wanted or not your grip loosens on his jacket but never truly lets go the entire walk there even as the infirmary sign comes into view around the corner. There’s no saying what effect the overblot had on you both physically and mentally, so the staff are on high alert as soon as you’re led into the infirmary. The nurse tries to take you off of his hands but you’re still holding onto Jamil for support and he’s quick to take the lead in getting you onto the bed so you can finally be seen to.

♡Jamil only allows the gravity of the situation to hit him once you’re in the capable hands of NRC medical staff, giving you some space to recover without being hounded by people as he tries to collect his thoughts. A part of him wants to stay there with you, especially with the way you’re so reluctant to let go of him during the initial checkup, but you’re drained both physically and mentally and need time to rest, and he needs to start picking up the pieces of the aftermath.

♡ The work keeps Jamil’s mind occupied, and provides a welcome buffer to the what ifs that are already beginning to creep in. But the moment he’s given a moment to finally rest it’s like all his energy’s been drained, using the nearest surface to keep himself upright as the events of the day finally fully sink in. You’ll live but all he can think about is what if you hadn’t; those few seconds where you weren’t moving, repeating over again and again. It’s an image that’s burned into his brain no matter how much he loathes having it there, and it forces his feet to move without thinking, heading straight back to the infirmary where he’d left you. Jamil needs to see that you’re really there, that you’re really safe in that bed and not taken whole by that creature again, and it’s something he finds himself doing long afterwards if only to set his own nerves at ease.

…Kalim

♡ Kalim is horrified to see what’s happening to you, watching the creature that rises from your barely standing form like it’s tearing itself free from your very shadow. For a split second it’s as though he’s back at Scarabia watching his childhood friend overcome the overblot and change right before his eyes. That familiar chill of fear that he’s hoped to never have to experience again hits him square in the chest and his entire body goes cold as the reality of the situation settles with the wheezing howl that the overblot creature lets loose into the air.

♡ Even though he can see it with his own eyes it’s almost impossible to come to terms with the fact that this is you. The one who always went out of your way to help people, who was so kind and there for everyone to help deal with their problems with hardly ever a thanks in return - there’s no way that the trembling, half coherent body looking out at the world with nothing but hatred burning behind ink stained eyes is really you. But it is, and there’s a beat, a split second where your eyes meet his and that anger flickers to grief, a lapse of the real you looking back at him before the hatred consumes you once again.

♡ It’s hard to think straight, and Kalim’s got little concern for his own safety as he joins Ace, Deuce and Grim in trying to reach out to you however pointless it may seem. He has to reach you, has to get to you somehow to make sure that you’re safe and get you away from that thing; he has to-!

♡ There’s a whoosh of air barely inches from his face, and Kalim only has a second to process the mangled claw that makes a swipe for him before there’s a hand winding into the back of his clothes , pulling him back into the dirt before those claws can bury themselves into his skull. It's enough to shock him back into the present moment, only now hearing the panicked voices of his friends and classmates as the chaos unfolds; there’s others here, and every single one of them is in danger the longer that this overblot is free to wreak havoc onto its new domain.

♡He hesitates to fight you - he just can’t bring himself to do anything that risks hurting you even though he knows that standing by and doing nothing it’s only going to make the problem worse. So he calls out to you, shouting your name with a near frantic desperation begging you to come to your senses even as the creature you’ve summoned continues it’s assault, gouging into the earth in its attempts to get at him with half formed joints. His cries are drowned out by the overblot monster’s screams, garbled words sounding like white noise ringing in the air only ever cut off when a sudden blast of magic from behind Kalim has the beast reeling.

♡Your friends round up to make a wall effectively creating a barrier between it and the students, their faces grave as they realize what it’s going to take to make sure everyone gets out of this situation alive. The last thing he sees before they close in is you, the blot still dripping down your face as you let out an enraged scream, the months of bottled up emotions sending goosebumps up Kalims skin before you disappear back into the overblot’s hold.

♡Hesitating will only result in you getting more hurt, so Kalim tries to pour his focus onto helping elsewhere. Hoisting himself to his feet he takes charge in making sure that everyone not directly involved in the fight has a clear path to get to safety, ensuring that the debris scattering through the air never has a chance of hitting any of the students and causing more damage. All the while he’s fighting not to be distracted by the sounds of fighting - the gurgling of the overblot, the shouts of everyone co-ordinating together and struggling to turn the tide of the fight. He can’t allow himself to think too hard about what’s happening to you; the people he’s helping are looking to him as dorm leader to keep them safe and get them out of there, and if he thinks about it for too long he knows he’s going to slip up and someone’s going to end up hurt or worse.

♡ A bloodcurdling howl brings everything to a standstill, and all at once something snaps in the air, the pressure on the back of Kalim’s skull dissipating as the blot that has soaked into every corner of the area breaks apart and disappears, no longer held together by magic. That means only one thing, and Kalim immediately drops everything that he’s doing to get back to where you are. The terrain is a mess and he trips up more than a few times on the huge chunks torn out of the earth beneath his feet as he grows more desperate to see you, to get to you.

♡His heart drops into his stomach once he finds you through the sea of people who were fighting you not moments before, now crowded around you in a protective circle. You’re curled up on yourself, unresponsive and Kalim immediately sinks down onto his knees in front of you, not caring for the last broken pieces of the overblot that try to claw at legs for purchase even as it sinks back into the mindless puddle of waste it came from. Hands trembling, Kalim holds you as close to him as he can, wide eyes scanning your face for any sign of reaction, a sign that you’re back. The time stretches on and he feels his throat burn the longer you go without waking up; he’s here, calling your name over and over again, can’t you hear him? It’s okay to wake up now, everyone’s safe! You're okay right?... right?!

♡A groan cuts his thinking off, and there’s no holding back the sob he almost chokes on when you finally come to. You’re blinking away the haze that’s making your head pound and finally make out his face, caked in mud and debris and smeared with stark tear tracks as he cries. You bring a hand up to try and wipe away the tears and grime but that only makes him cry harder, though you don’t have time to feel bad before he’s pulling you even closer, pressing your face against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around you so tight that your ribs groan in protest. It’s not like you have the heart to push him away though - you’re so tired and drained and all you can think about is how glad you are that he’s here as you zone in and out of him gushing about how he’s so glad that you’re going to be okay.

♡Kalim refuses to let you go even as the others begin to crowd around to check on you for themselves; now that this is all over the last thing he wants to do is leave you on your own again much to the frustration of Grim and your other friends. It takes Jamil stepping in and none too subtly warning him that there’s a chance you’re still suffering from complications unless you get to a nurse and find out for sure before he relents, but even then he’s going right with you to the infirmary, taking a seat right next to the bed you’re propped up in and holding your hand and supporting you through the entire checkup.

♡All he can focus on is how tired you look, the exhaustion palpable now that the blot has washed away from your skin and clothes. He knows that it isn’t from the blot though; Kalim may be naive but he knows you were suffering before the overblot overwhelmed you. He’d tried so hard to help - offered you to stay at Scarabia any time you needed a break, insisted that you could always rely on him for anything, to tell him anything, just say it and he’ll be there! And yet it wasn’t enough to save you from all of this, and he can’t help but feel guilty that he couldn’t help you when you needed him the most…♡ You have to convince him not to call in the best doctors from back home just to come and see you the second the nurses are finished with their tests, insisting that he really doesn’t need to go that far despite his protests that he wants to make sure that you’re really okay. He’s already rattling off about how things are going to be better once you’re all healed up - he’ll come to see you everyday, of course, and he’ll make sure to bring plenty of things to keep you happy so that you can focus on resting and feeling better! It’s almost enough to forget the fact that everything that happened wasn’t just some dream your stress addled mind conjured up; however, even so exhausted you don’t miss the concern hiding behind his seemingly carefree smile, grip on your hand squeezing every once in a while as though to reassure himself that you’re both still here - he hasn’t lost you yet.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #scarabia #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #twst kalim #twst jamil #jamil x reader #imagines #twst imagines #twst overblot #angst #no one's having a good time here #but at least everyone's alive for now lmao #it's midnight so there's more than a few mistakes but i love this thank you for the request mwah

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