#desire tavern group

[dappersheep]

Putting this down here as more my own note taking about the Desire Tavern members popping up here and there after the Brandy event. Specifically after that event because they were part of the main roster and appeared quite frequently. Mind you, this is also littered with speculations and some headcanon stuff.

It's also interesting to note that Spaghetti seems to be interested in the whereabouts of the "Wheel of Time", though of course he's just one of many parties interested in that artifact, whether as pieces or as a whole. It's still unknown what he needs it for, or if he's tracking it down for someone else (Whiskey comes to mind). The intention is up in the air and knowing Funtoy's current state of affairs, I'll assume I'll never get closure on that front (amongst other things).

In the Kiviak event, Stargazey Pie arrived at the Dragon Lair on Spaghetti's information that the "Wheel of Time"… at least one of its shards, would make an appearance there. She buys some jewelry that catches her eye from Red Velvet, who after finding out Stargazey is interested in the 'shards', leads her to the Auction part of the building.

As it's a sidestory and Stargazey doesn't show up in the event's conclusion nor in any other sidestory thereafter, we'll assume she was only able to gather information for Spaghetti. It's also unknown if her original intention was to buy the Wheel of Time's shard, or simply to observe and confirm what happens to it.

As a side note, Stargazey looks to have matured a little more with her lines. She still fancies pretty things (including hands) and wants to have them, but her spoiled nature seems to have been curbed and doesn't throw a tantrum when she can't have something. I guess Spaghetti and the rest of the girls have been somewhat of a positive influence in that area.

The next appearance is in Kaiserschmarrn's event. Spaghetti and Oyster make an appearance (my heart!) as a response to a peculiar letter that arrived at their tavern begging for them to rescue the children from the circus. As context, that letter was penned by a young girl who befriended one of the circus children since the circus child didn't know how to write. That same young girl told the child about the wish granting tavern in Nevras and offered to get her wish out to be rescued.

In the duo's conversation, Spaghetti claims they both came here out of curiosity despite, as Oyster pointed out, that the wish did not comply with their rules. This suggests that any time they receive a wish that did not follow their criteria, it would be left unanswered. And yet interestingly, they answered this one 'out of curiosity' and even Oyster decided to come along when children became a factor, per Spaghetti's words.

'Circus children, customers of various backgrounds... With a little imagination, it could be a crime thriller. Maybe we'll even catch a few nobles while we're at it.'

This line causes me some confusion, more specifically the last one. Putting aside possible sub-par translation, Spaghetti's probably thinking they could catch some ne'er do well nobles in some atrocious acts if they uncover something nasty. So they're still doing their vigilante stuff... ah, Spaghetti, keep being the villain that you are.

Though the sidestory ends with both of them seeing Beer terrorizing a child with his insistent singing. A very random way to end this, especially since there's not even a cliffhanger to this with Beer noticing the two Food Souls at all. Funtoy, wtf?

Add to that, the main event again has none of them popping up. And the one sidestory that acts as an epilogue for the children and Feijoada's fates... doesn't tell me what happens to the children.

Feijoada was offered rescue by a mysterious man— That's just Baklava I'm certain by what little I know about other FS connections, and it cuts there.

Now I'm hoping that it means Baklava helps Feijoada and the children get to town. But that now leaves the subject of whether Spaghetti and Oyster decided to drop their curious pursuit or they'll do something about the children. There's also the matter of Beer appearing within Oyster and Spaghetti's proximity, and from what I do know from Oyster's bio, Beer definitely doesn't hold Spaghetti in high regard but who knows? Spaghetti is probably a necessary evil at this point for certain things to go 'correctly' for this timeline to achieve a good ending (see SP Beer bio, and also see SP B52 bio for what happens if Spaghetti strays off his purpose as a lynchpin for the Desire Tavern existing). So basically it's vague enough that I can just think of something and it will just fill in the gaps.

Insofar, that's all of the current appearances. I'll have to keep an eye on things to see where else they show up but honestly I'm just here to find as many Spaghetti crumbs as possible.

#food fantasy #ff spaghetti #ff stargazey pie #ff oyster #ff beer #ravings of a madman #desire tavern group

[talesofesther]

gentle secrets

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Where once there was pain, now there's love. Or, you help Astarion create new, happier memories.

A/N: A soft little something, just like he deserves. <3

Masterlist

The peacefulness was a novelty. Between the 200 years of torment with Cazador, getting snatched by mind flayers, and traveling around with a group of weirdos, there hasn't been much time for peace in Astarion's life.

He reckons though, that this is very much close to it.

It was your first night with a proper roof over your heads, windows opened widely to allow the moonlight to shine through; he could hear the never-ceasing bustling of Elfsong tavern downstairs, but it was a muffled noise, carried away by the touch of your fingers that nearly put him to sleep.

The astonishing safety he felt around you was also a novelty. Astarion couldn't help it, your presence was alluring, and the softness that came with it all the more. You had a way of quieting his mind, dulling the ache in his chest. He never put much thought into why that was. This was new, this was delicate. Not yet labeled. All he knew was that he craved your presence more and more each day, and maybe this wasn't such a bad thing.

Like right now, with you resting on a proper bed, back against the headboard with a book in your hand; and Astarion laying on you, his head resting on your chest, eyes closed and muscles relaxed. One of your hands mindlessly played with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck, nails sometimes gently scratching his skin; and if he sighed contently with your touch, no one needed to know.

Yes, this could be his meaning of peace.

You'd sometimes hum a tune of some sort as you turned the pages. Astarion wondered if you knew you were doing it. Didn't matter, he liked the sound of your voice. He could picture your brows knitted together just a tad, as you focused on the words. The image brought a faint smile to his lips.

The breeze that came through the window was a chilly one, curtains flowing with it. Astarion snuggled closer. You were particularly warm; a comforting warm.

And then he felt it; your fingers traveling up his neck and steadily burying into white curls. You ran your hand through his hair, tangling and disappearing in between his soft locks. A harmless gesture, you weren't even looking away from your book.

But Astarion froze. A quiet, sharp breath came in through his nose and his muscles tensed, his body that was once slumped against you was now rigid and still. His eyes once closed in bliss were now open and staring blankly as the embers escaped the fireplace in the distance; waiting, expecting, dreading.

It was foolish, oh so foolish. You were not like them. He knew it, of course he did; yet his body still reacted outside of his control, a habit formed in the last 200 years.

He gulped back a tightness in his throat, wondering briefly if he was too broken to be repaired after all.

When you placed your book down beside you on the bed, Astarion's attention was caught. Your hand, still hidden in his hair, had stopped its movements.

"Star?"

The little nickname in your voice caused goosebumps up his back.

"Everything okay?"

Naturally, you noticed. What with his body tangled with yours, of course you would. But you knew him well too.

Astarion stole a glance up at you, with a small smile on his lips. "Of course, my sweet, everything's perfect."

You raised a brow at him, letting him know you didn't believe a word he'd just said, but you'd drop the matter if he so desired.

Not for the first or second time, Astarion felt like spilling all his secrets to you. He sighed. "Forgive me, darling, it's not your fault, it's just that- well-" He struggled, words stuck on the tip of his tongue. He felt… embarrassed, for some reason. He knew you'd never judge him, and yet…

The feeling of self-loathing and shame gnawed at his insides. Like when he'd still feel dirty after scrubbing his skin raw; or when he'd go for days still feeling the ghosts of unkind touches and grips squeezing the flesh of his thighs and waist; or when the roots of his hair would sting from being pulled on too roughly. In a farfetched desire, he wanted to keep those stains of his away from you.

Astarion pursed his lips and gripped the fabric of your shirt. He refused to meet your gaze. "Usually when people touched my hair it was to- it-" His mouth hovered, eyes glazing over with wetness.

Your free hand found his cheek, thumb brushing away a small tear. "I'm sorry, my star, I wish I could take those memories away." You paused, eyes roaming over his features. And not for the first time, Astarion was glad that you were able to decipher him so easily; that he subconsciously allowed you to, wanted you to.

"But if anyone ever thinks of doing anything like this to you again, I'll kill them myself."

You meant it, every word, and despite a watery chuckle escaping Astarion, he knew you did. Maybe that's why he nuzzled back into you, burying his nose even deeper into your neck, arms encircling your waist so you wouldn't go away. Or maybe he was just too overwhelmed with the affection you offered him so dearly, broken or not. Or was it the affection he felt for you that overflowed his dead heart? He couldn't tell. Either way, he felt like drowning in it.

The hand you had in his hair chanced a touch, "Let me love you," you offered quietly. So quiet that it would have been lost to the wind had you not been so close, your lips brushing his temple. "Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Astarion groaned weakly, hiding in you, eyes closing as he committed the touch to memory. The way your fingers brushed through the strands of white curls ever so gently, so tenderly, so lovingly; touching along his ear and tracing the shape of it. As if he was something worthy of devotion. Perhaps he could be, to you.

A breath escaped him, he felt cherished. "Please," he croaked, "Please do."

Your lips found his forehead in the softest of kisses, light as a feather yet as meaningful as a promise. You lifted his head with both hands then, slowly, all so you could place a kiss on his nose, and then his cheeks, and his eyelids that tasted just a tad salty.

You loved on him through the night, and every day after that too.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @asterordinary @nyushkawritesstuff

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion imagine #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #astarion fanfic #my story #astarion ancunin

[bunnys-kisses]

closeness above all else - astarion ancunin

pairing: astarion ancunin x fem!reader rating: 18+ summary: Astarion was obsessed with you. There was something about you that he found so appealing. Maybe it was your leadership or your ability to fight? Maybe it was your ability to maintain the group. You were a lovely woman to be around and Astarion found it so appealing. Maybe that was why when you were speaking to the innkeeper and smiled up at the man, Astarion felt a surge of jealousy. tags: pwp, breeding kink, darker themes, possessive behaviour, alcohol & drunkenness, unprotected sex, smut, pregnancy kink, wife kink, he just loves you so much, 3.4k words a/n: i did minimal research if astarion could even get someone pregnant, but don't think about it too hard, okay?

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Astarion was obsessed with you. There was something about you that he found so appealing. Maybe it was your leadership or your ability to fight? Maybe it was your ability to maintain the group. You were a lovely woman to be around and Astarion found it so appealing. Maybe that was why when you were speaking to the innkeeper and smiled up at the man, Astarion felt a surge of jealousy.

The vampire always wondered if he could sire children, while the logistics weren’t clear he enjoyed the fantasy. The idea of their fearless leader having a piece of him always with her. As if it wouldn't be your shadow, to make sure that you were always safe. And once you got too swollen with a child, then you two could settle down somewhere.

The thought made him aroused, but the rush was cut short when he saw you talking to the innkeeper. It made something else flood the man’ system, a spike in jealousy as he watched. And when you leaned over and nudged the man’s shoulder, the vampire saw red. He knew he’d have to act on his desires soon, he was growing weak without his feast of blood and your sweet body. Maybe it was time to leave his little surprise as well.

He came up beside you and grabbed the key from the innkeeper, “Shouldn’t you be tending to other guests, not bothering our dear leader?”

The innkeeper’s eyebrows knitted together. He looked around and saw no one else except for the pair in front of him. He gave your partner a strange look as Astarion turned away with you with keys in hand. The vampire gave one last look to the innkeeper almost like a threat to not come near you.  His hand was on your lower back, his fingertips were threatening to sneak under the bottom of your shirt.

There was no one who would get in his way. You were HIS. He’d make sure no one bothered you once he got you pregnant. You’d make such a wonderful mother to his child or maybe even children if he was lucky. A little human wife all to himself. The thought excited him. As you both walked to rejoin the group, he leaned over and kissed the top of your head lovingly.

Tonight was going to be an interesting night.

-

But that first meant having dinner and you had your fill. The alcohol brought red to your cheeks as you went for another glass which made Astarion take you by the wrists and sit you back down beside him. He said quietly, “Now, now. You know alcohol makes your blood taste sour.”

You were a mess of giggles and tried to get out of his gasp. But he just brushed his nose further up against your neck and he smiled to himself. He ended up with a bun to the face from a fellow party member to stop practically having sex with you at the tavern. The action made you laugh harder and cuddle yourself up in his arms.

  “Don’t be meeeeeean.” You said, “He’s trying to be nice. You know how rarely that happens!” You then dissolved into another mess of giggles.

He chuckled and had another sip. His hand was on your back as he held you close, “Next time we have to make sure she doesn’t get into the wine. She’s as red as a strawberry. Isn’t that right, darling?”

You peeked up at him and nodded. You held onto the front of his shirt. You looked so innocent. It made him smile more. He could feel tightness in his pants. He reached over and fed you a small piece of the meal you were all sharing, “I don’t need you to get sick on me now.” You nodded once more.

Astarion smiled, this was going to be easier than expected.

He took you back to the room you were sharing. It only made sense that you two would share, at some points you were practically attached at the hip. Plus if someone else slept in the room with you, Astarion would never shut up about it. Even though he didn’t need sleep the way most species did, he wanted to make sure his darling slept soundly.

You stumbled over yourself in the short walk back to the inn. He helped steady you and encouraged you to keep going with kisses. You giggled at jokes you made up in your head and tried not to lose your breath from laughing so hard.

 “Darling.” He said as he attempted to keep himself composed, “Do you want me to carry you?”

  “Nah!” You giggled, “I can get by on my own two feet.” And as soon as you said that you tripped over a rock on the cobblestone road and fell over. With his quick thinking, he grabbed you to prevent a face plant.

He sighed and picked you up bridal style. He looked in your eyes, “You need to watch where you’re going. I can’t have our fearless leader getting hurt because of a rock.”

You laughed, “Why are you being so nice, Astarion? Did you get swapped with someone else and didn’t tell anyone?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek, “No, no, I’m all me. I’m worried about my love, there was a lot of wine that you had. I worry someone would try to hurt you. There are many cruel men who would take advantage of you.”

You beamed at him, “You just want a taste, huh?”

  “Would you allow me?” He asked softly.

  “I mean, the bruises have healed on my neck. I wouldn’t mind having new ones.” You smiled and kissed him, not the cheek. You felt light headed and dizzy, you were thoroughly drunk. But you believed that your loving partner would take care of you.

  “Good girl.” He whispered and smiled when you burst into giggles again. He felt warm in a way, a rush of anticipated pleasure through his body as he got the door to your room open. He stepped inside and let the light of the town shine through. He lit the lights in the room and got you undressed.

  “It’s embarrassing when you see me naked.” You admitted as you covered your face.

He pulled his hands away from your face and gazed down at you. He smiled and you saw the glint of his fangs. “There’s no need to hide, my love. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame. And I want you to burn me alive.” He leaned forward and grazed his fangs against your neck.

His hands made their way through every button, snap and strap on your body. He left you in nothing but the undergarments you wore. His hands were placed back on your hips as he sank his fangs into your neck. You moaned and gripped onto his shoulders. Your nails dug into the meat of them as he happily drank from his beloved.

The blood was a little sour from all the alcohol but he’d never say no to having his teeth on you. He knew it would leave an ugly mark in the morning. But that way fine, he’d say it added to your charm. He then held your chin so you didn’t move your head while he fed. He groaned against your skin, his cock twitched in his pants.

Eventually he pulled away when he decided to not drain you dry. He licked the wound to ensure that it would stop bleeding. He moved further away and looked over on you, with red painting his mouth and chin. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly. Your legs were practically wrapped around his waist. He was still dressed while you were almost nude.

He wiped his mouth on his wrist and gazed at you with those stunning red eyes. He smiled down at you and rubbed his clothed cock up and against you, “I can feel how aroused you are.”

  “Astarion.” You moaned.

  “I know my darling, I know how you feel about me. I see it every day. You look at me like I raise the sun every morning. Despite all that tough exterior, you need someone to protect you. And I’ve found that I’d be willing to do anything to keep such a precious gift safe.” By any means, he thought.

You laid there in the mess of pillows and blankets. You got your undergarments off to show off your curves to your loving partner. You felt his heated gaze on your body. You rubbed yourself up against him and he chuckled.

  “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. All this time on this earth and yet you are the most beautiful thing I’ve laid my eyes on.” He started to get undressed. He felt your drunk gaze on his body. Usually he’d do it slowly to show off. But he had a mission in mind.

Your figure was missing something. Not a sword or armor, but rather something softer. A nice slope to your belly with the promise of new life. He brushed a hand down your front and gave extra attention to your abdomen. You didn’t notice his intentions as the touch made you giggle. There still was a drunken throb in your head. It also didn’t help that your pulse was racing.

Astarion’s gaze remained on you as he got undressed. Soon he was bare as you were. His hands were on your breasts, his mouth was on your right nipple. His fangs carefully grazed the nub. You almost kicked out your legs from the sensation of it all. You yelped and felt a shiver down your spine.

However, he kept you pinned to the soft bed you shared. He was going to make sure you felt good, he read somewhere that if you made a woman orgasm multiple times she was more likely to get pregnant. And Astarion had to take all the advice he could get. His bare cock brushed up against your sweet pussy which made him shiver. Over a century on this earth and there was no feeling like his cock inside of you.

He massages your breasts further, it was almost a little painful. He moved to the other nipple and you moaned loudly into the night air. Your heart raced as you felt yourself drown in the pleasure of it all. You felt more sensitive with all the alcohol in your system. You seemed louder as well with the more he touched you. He rubbed hi cock up against your pussy, he knew you were getting hotter from the sensation of it all. He groaned against your chest as he continued to play with you.

  “Astarion.”

  “Good girl.”

He thought you were divine. He thought there was no one else quite like you. He moaned into your skin as he nipped at it. He left small bruises around your chest which only made you moan louder. He stimulated you further as he felt you try to fight against him. He knew he was making you feel good.

It wasn’t long before you felt the pleasurable tension become overwhelming. You held onto him tightly as he made you feel good from touching on your breasts. He knew exactly how to drive you crazy. You arched your back as much as you could with him on top of you and climaxed. A sharp moan left your lips and then your hips dropped back down on the bed with a ‘thud’.

Astarion thought he was going to finish as well from the sight of your pleasure. You were going to be such a sweet wife for him, and he couldn’t wait to drag every orgasm out of your sweet body.  He kissed your skin and mumbled, “I can’t wait to get you pregnant, Make you my wife.” But his voice was so quiet that you couldn’t hear him.

You relaxed against the bed and basked in the feeling of his hands all over you. When he touched your sex it felt like lightning through your body. It was an overstimulation but you loved the feeling. Your face felt hot, and your head was swimming.

  “Beautiful girl.” He praised me.

You rubbed your thighs together and he thought you were perfect. But even perfection could be improved on. He brushed you in the middle again, he wondered how the child would take after. He hoped they looked like you, except with their father’s fangs.It wouldn’t be easy to carry a vampire child, but he believed in you. You’d care for the being as well as being a wife for him.

It was a sick part of him, to trick you into becoming his bride. But he couldn’t contain himself. He moved back to being on top of you, he moved your legs to be around his waist. He brushed his cock up against your sweet pussy. You moaned and held onto the pillows under your head.

  “So beautiful.” He said.  “Astarion.”

Even the way you said his name was appealing. It sang to him like a siren song. It only made him want you more. His sick desire to keep you as his until the end of both your days. To be a wife and mother, to leave behind the age of adventure. To become domestic with him. To get away from the madness. It excited him and made his large cock twitch. He groaned as he continued to fondle you as you tighten your legs around his waist.

Soon he had enough of the foreplay and groaned through grit teeth as he pushed his cock into you. You tensed and he groaned louder, he held onto the bed under you and moved all the way inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly as he started to thrust. You moaned into his skin as he moved against you.

Your body felt numb but in a pleasurable way. You could only lie there and accept all the pleasure that he was giving you. He kissed your soft face, he could feel your racing heartbeat under your skin. His face went back to your neck where he left more bruises on the flesh. He felt heat through his body as the pleasure coursed through his veins. It was arousing, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling.

  “Good girl.”

  “Astarion, please. It feels so good.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. That you’re feeling so good for me. I like making you feel good, my darling. Keep it up, beloved.” He purred as he picked up the pace. His hands laid back on your hips as he got at the right angle that made you tense up with every heavy thrust.

The future with you looked bright. A nice home far away from anyone else, some privacy for the both of you and the growing family. The sight of your pregnant form aroused him, to know that you laid with him. That no other man could do what he did. You’d be his forever. And he promised in return to worship you.

He wanted to fuck you with your swollen belly. Worship it as he thrusted into you. The thought of that possibly happening made his stomach flip. He gripped onto the covers tighter and continued to thrust into his beloved. You made a beautiful ‘o’ with your lips as he hit all your sweet spots. The buzz in his body made his head spin. He groaned into your skin before he pulled away and gazed down at you.

  “Beautiful. So, beautiful. Gods, you are perfect.” He growled as he sank his teeth into your neck again. He lapped at more blood which only made you more light headed. You clung onto him and he happily feasted as he fucked you.

He knew what was best for you, you’d be happier being protected by him. To have a family with him. It was what would make you happy. You needed to TRUST, Astarion. He grunted against your neck as he finished his feast. His cock twitched inside of you. The sounds of sex filled the room and the old bed creaked against the wall.

Your neck and chest were covered in his bites, in his love. And soon your insides would be covered in a different kind of love. He panted wildly as he pulled away and looked down at you. You with the faint lights of the room, he knew your face was flushed from all the commotion.

  “Astarion.” You said.

  “I know. I know. You feel so tight. You are a dream to me, my darling. I’ve waited for this for a long time. To feel your body against mine. You’ve made me an addict to your body, I only want more and more of it as time goes on. You wouldn’t deny me your sweet love, right?”

  “No, no.’ You panted as you felt the pleasure surge in your body once more. You dug your nails into his shoulders as you laid there in a swirl of your own pleasure. You felt the pressure again in your gut and your body started to go stiff. You groaned wildly into the night air then buried your face into his neck. You felt his skin against yours.

He held onto you tightly and pushed as deep as he could inside of you. It was messy, both of you were running hot with blood on his face. You both felt intoxicated for different reasons. He started to kiss you, you felt your blood in your mouth as he passionately made out with you. His fangs grazed your bottom lip, not enough to make them bleed but enough to turn you on.

You looked disheveled with blood smeared on your lips, bites on your neck and a heat that radiated from your body. You held onto him and continued to kiss him. You clenched onto him and moaned into his mouth. The feeling erotic and you couldn’t keep it together for much longer. Your pussy tightened around his cock as he thrusted into you as fast as he could.

He pulled away from the kiss and gazed at you. He felt on the tip of orgasm. With another hard thrust, he shoved his cock as far as it would go and then he finished inside of you. At that moment you finished as well.

You laid limp on the bed as he finished inside of you. He shiver ran through his body, this could be it. He slowed down his pace until it was a full stop and held your face in his hands. You were out of your mind from all the intense factors. He smiled down at you. He kissed you once more.

  “Beautiful.” Then he pulled away and held onto your thighs before he thrusted his cock inside of you until he got erect again. He smiled, there was no harm in doing it again. He had to take extra measures to make sure that it all took. A drop would not spill.

-

  “Darling. I see he’s gotten bigger since the last time I measured you.” He smiled up at you as he pulled the measuring tape away from your swollen middle.

You placed your hand on your lower back and rubbed it, “I don’t know how he could get any bigger.” You had given up on adventuring months ago, living off your treasure out in the wilderness.

He got up to his feet and rubbed your swollen belly. He smiled down at you. He’d never have to worry about you being unsafe ever again. You’d be safe here in the home you two lived in. And soon you’d have an addition to your little family. You rubbed the mound too and he leaned in for a soft kiss.

  “I was wondering.”

  “Yes, my love.”

  “Could you… Maybe, do what you did the other night to me? On my side.”

He smiled and placed the measuring tape down, “Of course, but let’s get you comfy in bed.” He placed a hand on your lower back. Things were different now, away from all the madness lived a former adventurer and her rouge husband. And soon their many children.

#bunny writes #bg3 astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #pregnant reader #fem!reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #fan fiction #reader insert #pregnancy

[nina-ya]

HII!!1!1!1 i hope ur doing well

im currently sick (GRAHH) my throat has been hurting

ANYWAYSSS since i havent been able to sleep (its like umm 4:23 am) i had this little ermmm ideaaa :3

law x reader but the reader is shy n she doesnt know how to say “no” to people so law has to step in whenever too many people start asking her for help n shit

AAAAA idk bye bye have a great day/night pookie bearrrr

Law When You Don't Know How To Say 'No'

A/N: HI!! I am sorry that this took me so long but here it issss This was honestly a bit too easy to write since im lowkey (highkey) the same way,,, ANYWAYS i hope you enjoy!!! Pairing: Law x reader CW: Cursing WC: 1.4k

Law noticed your tendency to always say yes to everything from the moment he first met you. When you guys would be wandering islands, you bought every item from merchants who tried to haggle with you. When citizens asked for your help, even if their intentions were obviously terrible, you couldn't resist saying yes. You even put up with friends whom you knew were less than ideal for months, all because you never had the courage to step away. You always said “yes” to people, and frankly, Law was getting tired of it.

The lectures from him never seemed to end. Almost nightly, you heard the broody captain telling you to ‘stand up for yourself’ and how ‘you can’t keep saying yes to everyone.’ Yet, despite Law's advice, you couldn't help but continue your habitual affirmation. The pattern had become ingrained in your nature, and breaking free from it proved more challenging than you anticipated.

You found yourself caught in an interesting situation this time around. The Heart Pirates had chosen to dine at a tavern on an island where they were docked. At first glance, it seemed like the perfect haven for pirates, since it's main clientele were pirates themselves. However, the moment you all walked in and witnessed the chaos, it became clear that your assumptions were very wrong. If it weren’t for the fact that this tavern was the only food establishment that accepted pirates, you all would have walked right out. Instead, you kept to yourselves by Law's orders and settled into a corner booth to eat.

The drinks arrived first, followed closely by the food. Everyone dug in rather quickly. You happened to be the first to finish your drink, and the desire for a refill tugged at you. However, as you observed the chaos around the tavern, you noticed the waitress busy preventing another group of pirates from shooting each others heads off. Deciding not to add to her workload, you opted to head to the bar and refill your drink on your own.

Approaching the bar, you leaned onto it with your empty cup in hand, waiting for the equally busy bartender to notice you. Lost in thought, you heard the scrape of a barstool next to you, and your attention was drawn to a larger man taking a seat.

"What are you having?" The man asked, his deep voice resonating as he leaned closer to you.

"Oh, it's nothing," you replied with a nervous laugh, hopeful that the bartender would soon notice your empty cup.

"Well, why don’t you let me get you another one of those?" he offered, leaning in once more. You subtly leaned away, feeling his presence a bit too close for comfort. Undeterred, he continued, "You know, we can always use someone like you on my crew. We would treat you well, and who knows, maybe you’ll have a different kind of fun with us," he suggested.

A wave of revulsion washed over you at his lewd proposition, prompting you to redirect your focus to the bar before you. Your words stumbled in an attempt to deny his request, "Oh, um, well, that’s a nice offer, but…" Yet, the refusal lingered unspoken, lost in the unease of the moment.

His smirk deepened, the subtle twist of his lips revealing a hint of satisfaction as he responded, "It is a nice offer indeed. So what do you say? We set sail tonight, and my crew would love to have someone like you around." He gestured toward his crew behind him, and your gaze involuntarily drifted to them. Some appraised you with lingering looks, while others seemed to undress you with their eyes, treating you as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat on display.

Back where Law was, he noticed that you had been gone for a while. His sharp eyes scanned the room, and a sense of concern flickered across his face when they landed on you at the bar, engaged in conversation with a larger pirate. "Shit," he muttered to himself, a distinct tension tightening his jaw. Excusing himself from the table, he swiftly made his way over to you. As he approached, he couldn't help but overhear snippets of the conversation.

“Come on, join me on the sea. I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” the larger man urged, attempting to coax you into considering his offer.

“I, uh…” You started, your words faltering, leaving you struggling to defend yourself in the face of his persistence.

Unable to tolerate the uncomfortable scene any longer, Law stepped up behind you. A firm hand landed on your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, and he spoke up, his voice cutting through the awkward atmosphere, "Hey, fuck off, they're with me."

You jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, but the tension in your shoulders immediately eased as you recognized Law's presence. A sigh of relief escaped you as the larger man grew visibly upset and angered by Law's bold interruption. "And who are you supposed to be?" the man demanded, his crew getting riled up in response to their captain being openly defied. The whole tavern seemed to be swallowed by a growing tension, the air thick with the anticipation of a confrontation.

“Room,” Law uttered, and a blue bubble enveloped the tavern. The charging pirates were frozen in their tracks as Law unsheathed Kikoku in a blur of motion. With a quick and precise slash through the air, the pirate and his crew were cut right in half. Their halves pathetically fell to the floor, leaving the once chaotic tavern in a stunned silence.

The Heart Pirates were the first to break the quiet, erupting into cheers and applause for their captain. Law smirked at the defeated pirates sprawled before him, a victorious glint in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you away from the bar and toward the exit of the tavern.

“Come on, let's get out of here,” he said, leading the way back towards the Polar Tang, the rest of the crew in tow. The tense atmosphere dissipated with each step, replaced by the comforting sounds of the cheering Heart Pirates, celebrating their captain's quick and decisive action.

You both made it back to the submarine, and Law dragged you into his quarters, lightly slamming the door behind him. He released your arm but kept his gaze fixed on you, a hint of irritation evident in his eyes. "Care to explain what happened back there?"

You tried to defend yourself, stammering, "I tried to tell him that I won’t join him, but I—"

"Tried? I didn’t see much trying, only a failure to say no like you always do," he cut you off abruptly, his tone stern. "You're going to get yourself killed one day, I swear," he added with a deep sigh.

You looked down in embarrassment, your voice lowering as you responded, "...I know. I’m sorry." The weight of his concern sank in, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of regret and gratitude for his protective demeanor.

"Saying sorry doesn’t mean anything if you don’t do anything to fix it," he responded harshly. The weight of his words pressed upon you, and he noticed your embarrassment. Sighing, he seemed to calm himself. Walking over, he placed both hands on your shoulders. When you looked up at him, his tone softened, "Look, I’m just worried for you. I don’t want to see you wind up on some other asshole’s ship all because you can't say no. Do you get that?"

You nodded, and he offered a small smile. "Good. Now, I need you to promise me that you will grow a spine and start saying no. You can even start with me if it will help you. Okay?" he suggested, his concern evident in his gaze.

You looked into his steely grey eyes, filled with genuine worry for you, and offered your pinky to him. “I can promise to try?” you offered with a sheepish smile, hoping he would accept.

He looked at your pinky and rolled his eyes slightly, but took one of his hands off your shoulder, interlocking his pinky with your own. “I’ll take what I can get,” he responded. “Now, let’s talk about how you almost just ran off with that creep and his crew,” he teased you, a smirk growing on his face.

“Hey! I didn’t mean to almost run off with them,” you retorted sheepishly.

“Ahuh, okay. Now run that whole conversation from the top to me,” he responded, practically taunting you. You rolled your eyes at him as you began to replay the interaction, reliving your embarrassment in the retelling for him, internally telling yourself that you would grow a spine so that you would never have to be teased like this again.

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hey friends I'm trying to put a name to a specific type of gameplay that I've seen pop up every so often but I've never seen a good name for. Specifically it's the desire for the player to run a business or have other sorts of holdings that they manage/build up over time as a progression mechanic outside traditional levelling up.

Here's some examples I've seen:

Refurbishing a ruined keep and becoming stewards of the land

Opening and operating a tavern, smithy, or magic item shop

The cottage core "I'm going to have a cute little farm and bring my harvest to market" fantasy

Transporting cargo in a caravan or merchant ship

Helping to establish a village for a group of refugees fleeing disaster

Optimizing your vinyard profits by fucking with the local wine trade so much that you become a crime lord and your rivals start sending low level adventurers after you.

Previously I've used the term "homesteading" to describe this sort of gameplay but that gives me iffy settler colonialist vibes that I'd like to step away from. Likewise "pastoral fantasy" is a term I've heard used but yet again, not great.

#dapper digresses

[undertheorangetree]

Our Gentle Sin

The Inn

Summary- A winter storm brings about an opportunity at a local inn.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Dry humping. Fingering. Handjob. Porn without plot.

Author’s Note- Fair warning this is only the first 600ish words out of 4k. Read the rest on AO3 if you like it, the link is down below :)

find the series masterlist here

dividers by firefly-graphics

When they finally came upon the inn, she felt as though she could have cried in relief.

In the year she had been travelling with Uhtred’s men, she has learned that it is a miracle in and of itself to sleep below a roof. Usually, they slept under the stars when they were travelling, huddled around a low burning fire with one hand clasped around a sword. But a mid winter storm- howling wind and spitting, icy rain- had been enough to send Uhtred fleeing into the nearest inn.

It is a quaint little place, though she has few to compare it to. Clean and sturdy with a fire burning hot enough to fill the room. A tavern sat half filled on the main floor with a handful of rooms staring down at them from a balcony that encircled it. Finan laughs when he sees it, not quite believing their good luck before slapping an excited hand against Sihtric’s arm, turning to grin at both she and Osferth. She mimics his smile before shaking the ice from her hair, hearing Uhtred mutter how he will go and inquire about a room, the others sounding their agreements quietly.

A rough hand steadying her head causes her to look up, meeting Osferth’s shy smile. He brushes what is left of the ice from her hair gently and though one could mistake the red painting his cheeks as chill from the night, she knows in her heart it’s a blush. He always blushes when he touches her.

Uhtred makes his way back to the group before she can say anything, Osferth’s arm brushing against her own as he turns forward.

“Two rooms left. You may fight amongst yourselves over who sleeps where, I am going to get a drink.”

He leaves it at that, turning back to make his way toward the barkeep after throwing them the keys. Finan catches the keyring in one quick hand, twirling it around his finger.

“I will share with Osferth,” she announces after a brief pause. “I have no desire to listen to the rest of you snore all night. I should like one night of peace.”

“You say that as if the baby monk does not snore as well,” Finan teases, though he still begins working one key free of the ring.

“He is much quieter than you lot. And takes up far less room besides.”

Sihtric snorts a laugh as Finan hands the key over. She snatches it quickly, bidding them both goodnight before making her way to the stairs. Osferth does the same before he is scurrying after her, falling in step beside her once they are on the balcony. She scans the doors until finding their own, slipping the key in and unlocking it.

The room is not terrible. A fire is already burning in the hearth, setting the room alight with a pretty red glow. The bed is nicer than she would have thought, though she can smell the straw the mattress is stuffed with even from where she is standing. The window has been bolted shut, but she can still hear the storm raging outside, the icy rain pelting itself against the shutters. It is simple, the room, but it is warm and it is dry and for that she is grateful.

A soft click rings through the room as Osferth locks the door behind them and then she is on him, half pinning him against the thick wood, both arms slinging around his neck. He makes a shocked noise against her lips but his hands close around the curve of her waist without a moment's more hesitation.

Read the rest on AO3

#osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth #osferth tlk #tlk #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #osferth fanfic #osferth x you #osferth x fem!reader #the last kingdom x reader

[transdimensional-void]

the thing is, if the unsullied really believed they were free, she would not have an army of 8,000. like, we are talking 8,000 individual human beings with 8,000 different backstories, personalities, hopes and dreams…

especially considering how traumatic their training is, there must be a (significant) number who would gladly leave fighting behind forever—if truly given the chance.

we know their training doesn’t really strip them of all individuality. some of them choose to reclaim their original names or make up new ones. in the past, when sold in too-small groups, their training would fade and they’d assimilate to whatever group they found themselves with. they do things like overindulging in food, stopping by a tavern for a drink, seeking out intimacy with women. in short, despite their traumatic pasts, they are still humans with human desires and motivations.

if they really believed they were free, some percentage would want to return home, some to travel to places they have always wanted to see, some to settle down, find love, raise families. some may be in love already and dream of a future together. some must have family who are also enslaved—like missandei—and dream of finding and freeing them.

but we’re supposed to believe that, given a choice to do absolutely anything they wanted with the rest of their lives, every last one of them chose to *checks notes* keep doing the same thing they were doing when enslaved? all of them? really? All Of Them?

unless, of course, they didn’t actually have a choice…

#it’s not like i expect d to really understand the psychology behind what happened to them #and dedicate resources to helping them heal from their trauma #and be rehabilitated and reintegrated into society #but especially with missandei there as a window into their individuality #she should be able to conceptualize them as individual people #with individual pasts #and individual futures #rather than simply as an army made up of soldiers #asoiaf #cw #slavery

[pettyprocrastination]

as much as I love 141 medieval au's here the reader is a noble lady saved from her marriage or some lone townswomans rescued by the group of knights (looking @ my own nun!reader in this) I do love the notion of a lady knight.

A badass woman with no name or backstory that's taken up the life of a sellsword- who scoffs at the notion of "honor" when spilling blood on your blade- death is death. Honor means nothing for God or king.

Her hair is cut close to her scalp, because it's all too easy for somebody to grab a handful of those soft locks and be at the perfect position to slit her throat in a fight. Covered in scars and carried by aching bones that broke years ago but never quite healed properly.

Maybe Price is a king who sees this helmeted figure fighting at a tourney for his name day and asks for their name- their noble house only to learn you have none. Simply a desire for the money awarded to the winner.

Maybe Gaz is beloved prince who often sneaks out from his guards nose to mingle with the common folk- who enjoys sitting in a tavern with others and singing songs while drinking ale with a pretty little thing on his lap until he's walking back to the palace and finds a blade at his neck in a dark alley as you warn him that noblebloods should never walk unaccompanied- it makes the job far too easy.

Maybe a beautiful noble lady is sent to stay under the eye of a royal family in discussion for marriage- when the house offers to gift her one for their personal guards of the 141, she insists she more than happy with her own- you. The silent armor-clad figure standing close to her side. (yes I miss domentzia. she's my wife and always will be).

#TJ talks #anyways. idk where I'm going with this #listening to my knightcore playlist for this one girlies #I have a lot more of these stored in my brain if anybody wants to hear more #thinking about Sandor clegane's monologue from the got narrations of 'what is honor' and that's the vibe were going for today #141 x reader #john price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #Simon Riley x reader #can't see Simon as a noble blood unless he's like. new generation #in the same way of sandors family where his dad was named a house after saving a Lannister from being mauled by a lion #he would be a recent nobility that was gifted to him after accidentally helping some royal or something of that nature #anyways #I love period pieces so so much

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Saved

Part 1 – Sihtric x reader

Authors note: while rewatching the Season 2 of TLK and going wild with exploring my newly acquired skill of taking and editing screenshots I became obsessed with the idea of writing my own version of how Sihtric met Uhtred. Please bear with me as I'm working on learning to concentrate on the essentials and leave out unnecessary details, but I also believe that small details can make the characters more vivid.

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warnings: violence and mention of blood

Word Count: 1,129

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Sihtric found you sitting in your favourite spot near the lake, beneath the shade of the ancient oak tree whose sprawling branches provided protection from the scorching sun. He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before taking a seat beside you. In your presence, he still retained an endearing shyness, as if uncertain of how to navigate the depths of his feelings. Sihtric stole glances in your direction, admiring your strength and beauty. His mind raced with the desire to strike up a conversation, but he couldn't find the right words. Finally, he mustered the courage to speak.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving me," Sihtric said, his expression serious as he turned to you.

"Saving you? What did I save you from?" you asked, puzzled.

"From feeling miserable, unwanted, and like I didn't belong anywhere," Sihtric replied, glancing into your eyes for a moment before lowering his gaze, his fingers fidgeting with the Thor's hammer amulet hanging around his neck. Nervousness radiated from him, mingled with a charming blend of insecurity and shyness that made a smile curl on your lips.

"You had every reason to hate me for attempting to kill your brother, but you never did. Instead you showed me kindness that I never truly deserved," Sihtric continued.

He had changed so much since the day you first met. You could still recall that evening as vividly as if it were yesterday, when Kjartan's men had tried to take Uhtred's life. They might have succeeded if not for Halig, who noticed the suspicious absence of the newly arrived Danes and urged the others to search for them. You had been on the verge of sleep after a long and busy day. Being a healer in a warrior's camp meant there was always an abundance of injuries to tend to, even without a battle. Men would hurt themselves during sword training, get kicked by horses, or foolishly engage in fights over trivial matters. Today, you had to fix a dislocated shoulder all because of an argument about the best whore at the White Goose tavern in Lundene. The shouts and clash of swords roused you from your slumber, causing you to hastily dress and rush out of your tent. Expecting yet another drunken brawl, you sought to find Uhtred and put an end to it. However, by the time you arrived, the fighting was already over. You approached the gathering of men, only to discover five lifeless Danes being dragged away from the lawn behind the stables.

"Uhtred!" you called out, fear lacing your voice as you saw him leaning against a stable pillar, breathing heavily. "Are you hurt?"

"All is fine. Don't worry, little sis. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for our Danish guests, but don't fret, they won't be needing your attention," Uhtred grinned, attempting to lighten the atmosphere as he noticed your concerned expression.

"Let me check on you," you insisted, pulling him closer to the torchlight so you could assess his injuries. At first glance, there were some bruises and a swollen eye, but no apparent serious damage. His movements lacked any signs of pain or hesitation, indicating that he likely didn't have any broken ribs. Still, you were reluctant to let him go, but Uhtred firmly took hold of your hands, kissing your palms, and with a determined voice, called out to the men dealing with the corpses behind you: "Secure the prisoner. I'll need answers from him later."

"I'm fine, sis. Truly, I am. Please don't worry," he reassured you, turning to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. Apart from Ragnar, Uhtred's Danish brother, the two of you were all that remained of your family, and the bond between you had always been remarkably strong. You loved this proud, stubborn, and courageous young man, and he cared deeply for you.

Reluctantly, you turned your head to catch a glimpse of the young, bruised Dane, his hands awkwardly tied before him as Clapa dragged him away. The Dane was in a pitiful state, with fresh cuts and scrapes covering his arms, a split eyebrow, and a bleeding lip and nose. Anxiety radiated from his tense body. In a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, and you detected a flicker of despair within them. It struck you how young and handsome he appeared, despite his current circumstances.

Uhtred's men returned to their respective fireplaces, the evening just beginning. You knew all too well that this minor incident wouldn't deter them from their usual activities of drinking, gambling, and arguing about the “best whores”, as they did almost every night. You had no desire to be part of that. Tomorrow, there would be more dislocated shoulders and broken fingers to tend to, and since Uhtred seemed fine you eagerly longed to return to your tent and go back to sleep.

As you made your way past an empty wagon, you noticed Clapa and Halig engaged in what seemed like an argument. Initially, you hesitated to involve yourself, suspecting it was another petty quarrel you didn't want to be dragged into. However, as you attempted to quietly pass by, your eyes caught sight of the silhouette seated by the wagon. It was the young prisoner, the sole Dane who had survived today's assault on Uhtred's life. His gaze, as he was being dragged away from the small battlefield by Clapa, his hands bound and his face smeared with blood, lingered in your memory. An unexplainable feeling stirred within you, prompting a change of heart, and you headed straight for Clapa and Halig.

“What are you two arguing about? Aren't you supposed to be guarding the prisoner?" you asked with frustration evident in your voice.

"We are, lady!" Clapa replied defensively. "Uhtred ordered us to decapitate the corpses, but Halig lacks the courage to do it."

“That's not true, lady!" Halig interjected hastily. "I just needed a drink first. You can't deny a man a drink, especially one who's tasked with severing heads from still-warm bodies. Besides, it's better to do it later when the blood has thickened. And there's no need for two men to guard a securely tied-up prisoner”

"Alright, enough quarrelling, lads. Halig, go and fetch your drink, and Clapa, get yourself an axe or do you plan on using your eating knife? I'll keep an eye on the prisoner," you ordered firmly. As Uhtred's sister and a skilled healer, you were accustomed to giving orders, and his men knew better than to argue with you. Both departed without hesitation, not bothering to question your decision, although it must have seemed peculiar to them that you wished to remain alone with the prisoner. Turning your gaze towards him, you approached cautiously, maintaining a safe distance just in case.

“Are you hurt?" you inquired, observing the Dane who sat beside the wagon, his back resting against the wheel. He raised his head, confusion, and distress evident in his eyes. He didn't respond just shook his head.

“Your lip and nose have been bleeding quite profusely. Wait here, I'll fetch my bag," you said with a chuckle. "How foolish of me, as if he had much choice in the matter," you thought to yourself while making your way to your tent to retrieve your medical supplies. You always kept a bag prepared, stocked with clean rags, salves, potions, and other necessities, ensuring you wouldn't waste time searching when urgently needed.

Returning with your bag and a piece of bread in hand, you offered it to the prisoner, but he made no move to accept. Leaning his head back against the wagon wheel, he closed his eyes. Shrugging your shoulders, you placed the bread back in your bag and instead took out some clean rags and a leather flask filled with water. The Dane opened his eyes, watching your every move. Kneeling before him, you dampened the rags and reached out your hand to cleanse his face. Startled, he instinctively flinched and jerked his head back, accidentally striking it against the wheel, eliciting a groan of pain.

"Hey, stay still. I only want to clean your face," you said, perplexed by his sudden reaction. His whole body tensed as you gently touched his forehead and continued to clean his bruised cheekbones.

"The brow will require stitches," you informed him.

“Why are you doing this?" the Dane spoke, his voice husky but soft. "I am a dead man. Why would you bother stitching my brow if your husband will later torture me for information and then kill me anyway.”

Tilting your head to the side, you continued to wipe away the blood from his face, now focusing on his busted lip and chin.

“I don't have a husband. I have a brother whom you sought to kill tonight," you said, finished with cleaning his face you observed his features intently. "And if there's one thing I know for certain about my brother, it's that he has never tortured anyone, nor will he ever," you couldn't help but think about how handsome this young man was and you felt a pang of sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances. He believed his fate was sealed and had resigned himself to it. His gaze remained fixed on the ground, as if he dared not meet your eyes.

“I didn't want to kill him. I just did not have much choice about it," the Dane's voice remained calm, resolute, and tinged with sincerity. "I only wish Lord Uhtred would grant me the honour of dying as a warrior, sword in hand. And I would willingly share everything I know with him.”

“Not that I fear the pain," he hastily added, "I simply owe no allegiance to Kjartan.”

Unexplainably, you found yourself believing this man. Every word he spoke carried weight, and you suddenly felt deeply sorry for him.

“You are very kind to me, lady," the Dane continued, his voice filled with a sense of shame for being here, for being a part of what had happened. "I don't deserve your attention, but I am immensely grateful for it."

"What's your name?" you found yourself asking, driven by an inexplicable curiosity. It was as if fate had brought this unfortunate young warrior across your path, and a growing resolve began to take shape within you. You did not want to let him to the fate he thought inevitable.

“I am called Sihtric, lady,” the Dane answered with no hesitation. “Would you like to live?" you suddenly asked, as a seemingly absurd idea took hold in your mind.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #arnas fedaravicius #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #tlk fics #Sihtric fics #sihtric x you #violence

[galebrainrot2024]

RuganxFemReader NSFW18+

Summary: One shot of Rugan and a AFAB/Fem Reader. Explicit. Indulgent. A bit rough, some use of restraint, leashing, denial, all the classics. Oral Sex. PIV. This NPC takes up a lot of my brain space, his voice is chef's kiss. This is self-indulgent. Enjoy. Minors DNI

“By the gods, you’re a sweet sight,” the man pushes the stray hairs back, tying them neatly back into the knot at the back of his head. “Are any of my crew still alive out there?” 

“It’s a grim sight,” you say, though despite the nail-biting battle you feel yourself stir with the familiar pang of desire. 

“This whole journey has been one grim sight after another… gnoll’s, goblins, drow. You, though… aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” You feel heat lick up your neck and his eyes glint with tell-tale hunger. “Risen Road’s more dangerous than ever. You’re the first friendly face we’ve seen since Elturgard.” 

“Elturgaurd’s a long way from here. Where are you heading?” 

“Baldur’s Gate. Got some cargo to deliver but we’ve a stop to make along the way. Listen, you look like you know how to handle yourselves.. we have our drinking spot by the tavern. Invitation only. The name’s Rugan… Tell the fellow on the door ‘little serpent, long shadow,’ and come find me. I owe you a drink,” the man grins at you, brushing off his bottom lip. “Lots of drinks.” 

You know from the moment the words slipped from his lips that his desire mirrors yours. After a few weeks on the road with this strange group of vagabonds, the man before you seems irresistible. A fresh face amidst the chaos. 

Rugan - you roll the name over your tongue, loving the way it feels. Your body trembles and the chemistry crackles beneath your skin. Your eyes dart to your companions, nervous they can pick up on your appetites and all seem none the wiser. Your eyes flick to Rugan who is gazing at you hungrily, a man needing to be sated and to engorge himself. You wonder if he’s been on the road as long as you have.  

Your companions begin the trek back to camp and you tell them to go ahead, that you’d catch up with them. You wouldn’t.

“You owe me more than a few drinks.” 

The man’s lips curl into a crooked grin and he chuckles, “I knew I had a feeling about you,” Rugan says, his back turned to you as he kneels over the delivery. He stands, brushing off his armor and stares at you with an almost imperceptible smirk. “Find me later and we can settle our… needs.”

****

You sneak away, the night sounds and smells filling you with increased excitement as blood pounds in your hearts and your heart beats wildly in your chest. The anticipation of what’s to come almost too profound. 

As you creep closer, you see Rugan is leaning against a shed, the curve of his features illuminated by the dim moon. Your breath hitches as his gaze turns to meet you. He gives you a fiendish grin, and waits for you to approach. 

“Where does someone like you come from, anyway?” You note the flush of his cheeks, the slow drawl that wraps you in honey. You swallow, hard and feel the heat blossom in your core.

A voice more confident than how you feel answers: “Does it matter?” 

His low laugh in response sends a tremor down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. “No.” He steps towards you and fingers the amulet around your neck. You inhale and your eyes flutter as you take in his scent. Fire, sweat, fresh mud. “Before I make further assumptions, why don’t you go ahead and tell me why you sent away your friends?” 

“Oh,” you say, clicking your tongue, “if it isn’t clear enough I think our business might be concluded.” 

He chuckles darkly and brings his hand to your cheek to push your hair back. “You don’t seem the delicate type,” he waits a moment, waiting for any indication for him to continue. 

Your lips part as your mouth begins to water. Your knees quake and every fiber of your being trembles with delight. “I’m not.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, though barely. You feel yourself stir to life, the arousal coursing through you, drowning you. You feel yourself soak, the throbbing between your thighs intensifies as you imagine him forcing himself into you, digging your nails into his back as you cling to him with animalistic desperation. You need him, you want to sit on his face and ride his precious tongue until he makes you scream with unholy ecstasy as he grips your thighs, holding you to him to make you come again and again. 

While gripping your hair he pulls himself against you and you feel his erection pulse against your thigh. It makes you whimper, the stiffness and girth evident even beneath the trousers. He pushes you up against the cool wood, one arm resting above you while the other holds your head and he brings his lips to yours almost violently. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and you moan, feeling yourself slip down the wall, loosing your footing. You feel him smirk against your lips as his hand grips your throat, apply a firm yet light pressure. “So eager…” he laughs, biting your lower lip and pulling it back and you press your legs together, feeling the saturation of arousal. He presses himself against you to spread your legs and you feel his girth, wanting to taste him, wanting to satisfy him. 

Rugan seems to sense your desperation and begins to undo your clothes, and slips a hand down the front of your pants where he’s greeted with the soaking cloth that sits between his large, capable fingers and your pulsing clit. Rugan pulls out his hand and licks his fingers, groaning before kissing you lecherously. 

He pulls the pants off your body, ripping them at the seams and leans down to kiss the band where your briefs meet your skin as he firmly circles your clothed sex. The sensation is unbearable and your legs shake as he falls to his knees and looks up at you, taking your undergarment with his teeth and dragging them off your body. He bunches your dripping underwear and puts it in his pocket, murmuring, “a souvenir,” as he pushes your legs apart and bites your inner thigh. You yelp and he laughs blackly.

You watch as he lies back on the grass. “Get down here.” You obey as he gestures, and as you go to lay beside him he shakes his head, “no,” he says, lifting you easily so you kneel, your thighs hovering over his mouth. “Here.” 

Your brows shoot up and he pulls you down aggressively and you immediately feel his hot, warm tongue flicking and massaging your delicate folds, circling and sucking before slipping into you. You whimper and cry out, your hips beginning to buck against his face and he grunts, slipping his tongue into you and swirling it around, tasting the deepest crevices of your arousal. You cry out his name and he holds you against his face despite your body attempting to move. The wet noises he’s making only arouse you further and he encourages how your hips circle his lips and ready tongue. His fingers find their way inside you, mingling with his mouth and you gasp, gripping his hair and yanking. A nibble and salacious bliss. You yelp again and your body trembles uncontrollably, and he lifts you for a moment, inhaling and you see the sticky fluid of your desire clear on his stubble. “Beg for it.” He demands, his low husky voice serious and his eyes blown black. 

You, dizzy from his mouth, struggle to comprehend. “Wh-what?” 

A slow, wolffish grin spreads across Rugan’s face and he pushes you back, off of him so you roll back onto the grass. You look at him like a deer, frozen, and he leans over you, gripping your neck and pushes you back. “It seems you’re having a hard time hearing. I said beg.” 

“Please..” you begin and he shakes his head, applying more pressure.

“Try again.” 

You frown and lick your lips and pull his hand from your neck, catching him by surprise and you push him backwards and climb back over him. He smirks as you hold his head in place between your thighs, pushing them together and you see his eyes flutter and his lips part. “Finish what you started.” 

His eyes widen and he groans, gladly bringing you down onto his face hard, eating you out like a famished street urchin. You buck against his chin as his hot tongue massages you, flicking against your throbbing bud and sleeping deeper inside, the stubble against your thighs driving you wild, and you feel yourself grow closer to the edge, moments away and he pushes his tongue and fingers so far into you you see stars. He holds you by your waist as you shudder against his mouth, him groaning as he tastes you and you cry out like a penitent seeking forgiveness. Pleasure roils through you like hot lava, your body shuddering as you tumble off the precipice of unadulterated pleasure. Rugan laps the essence of your climax, greedily indulging on you.

He comes up for air, grinning and kisses the inside of your thigh, his face flushed as you fall to the ground beside him. Your breath is jagged and he hovers over you, bringing his lips to yours so you taste yourself. Your lips part and you whimper, your hips subconsciously lifting to him. You fumble with his trousers and he slips out of them, the stiff erection grazing the folds between your thighs and you feel yourself soak with desire again. 

He rolls his tongue with yours before taking you by the waist and flipping you so you lay face down on the ground. The sudden movement makes you yelp and you feel his strong fingers grip your waist and pull you back to him. You feel the head of his erection swirl around your opening and you mewl frantic, rocking backwards and wanting to take him fully. He denies you and pulls your hair to tilt your head back to him as he brushes his lips against your ear. 

He thrusts into you with a painful slowness, his girth stretching you fully and you whimper, taking a fistful of grass as the pleasure overwhelms you. Rugan’s grunt of passion makes you feral and you roll your hips back, bringing him so deep that he releases a guttural grunt and his body begins to move urgently with yours in carnal lust. Gripping your hips roughly, he pounds deep into you, pressing against the depths of you and you cry out as you feel him push roughly against you. You know it will bruise and you relish in it. Where his fingers grip you the pressure is too strong, and yet you hunger for more and push yourself back against him. He pulls your hair harder and pulls the belt off his discarded pants. He wraps it around your neck and pulls lightly on the leash. The pressure against your neck combined with his aggressive thrusts make you writhe with heat, growing closer to release again. You entire body is tense and he squeezes your ass so hard you yelp, earning you a harder thrust and you grip the ground for purchase. 

As he tugs at the belt around your neck, he kisses where your ear meets your throat and you whimper, hearing his wanton voice, “scream for me,” he commands and you do, crying out his name as you both move with a lustful urgency, your bodies slick with sweat and arousal until he is forcing himself so rough and deep into you that you shudder, sick with pleasure, and hear him groan as his sticky climax shoots into you, the warmth filling you and making you salivate. He tilts your head to kiss you from behind as he finishes, the throbbing of his twitching cock inside you sending you tumbling over the cliff of pleasure. 

He rolls beside you and you both lie back, panting, staring at the sky. It takes a moment for you to return to yourself and he looks at you, his eyes still gleaming with desire. You smirk, “Surely that’s not the best you can do.” The taunt ignites something further in him and you surrender as you feel his hot mouth on yours again, eager to be sated. You will be exhausted tomorrow and it will have been worth it. 

#rugan bg3 #rugan fuckers unite #bg3 rugan #rugan x fem reader #rugan one shot #baldurs gate 3 rugan #bg3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 smut #bg3 fanficiton #baldur's gate 3 #rugan #rugan fanfic #let me sit on this mans face fr

[taki-yaki]

Prompt idea based on Drizzt Do'Urden’s story, where his love interest and all his adventure buddies pass away but years later are reincarnated with their memories intact because the gods needed them to reunite with Drizzt to save the world again. So what if years later Astarion is alone (maybe Lae'zel is still alive since no one ages in the Astral Sea) but Tav and the rest reincarnate to adventure with him again. And just like Drizzt in this life Astarion and Tav have a longer life together and have a kid.

This gives me some angst vibes, but it makes for some good writing. I would see him becoming a bounty hunter of sorts after Tav passed, also in the epilogue, it seems that Withers does hint at him having the ability to just call the group whenever the world falls into danger again.

Astarion x Reincarnated Tav Headcanons

Many years have passed since your death, regrettably leaving Astarion all alone for him to travel across the realm of Faerun. Although in his years of living as an immortal vampire spawn, his past self would never be phased by such a thing, just seeing death as another way of time passing swiftly. 

Most of his former companions have passed on, except for Lae’zel who still wandered the astral plane, in which she never aged after centuries. The two sometimes meet up to talk with each other, but moments such as those are rare. 

But after everything he went through with the mind flayers, with you especially, this felt different, as if he was missing a part of his heart.

Now left all by himself to wander across the planes of Faerun, with the ring of the sun walker you gifted him all those years back, a final parting gift from you allowing him to walk in the sun once again. He even keeps a small locket wrapped around his neck, with a portrait drawn by Oskar Fevras, capturing every aspect of your face that could be contained on such a small canvas.

There are more dhampirs across the sword’s coast than before, thanks in part to the over 7000 vampire spawn who were released and went to live their lives in the Underdark, which makes it slightly easier to blend in with the locals in certain areas. Especially as a bounty hunter, travelling across the planes in search of any beast and bandits to slay, either for some quick cash or a meal. 

Although most residents from outside of the city have forgotten about the heroes who saved Baldur’s Gate and in turn the whole of Faerun from the threat netherbrain and the grand design as a whole, he’d still try to tell tales of your exploits to those at local taverns in hopes that your tale isn’t forgotten.

During these travels, he sometimes helps out with fledgling adventures, mainly in part to not become sloppy, some of these adventures are dhampirs who were raised in the Underdark, whom he gains a weird sense of kinship with.

He lectures the dhampirs about the tricks he’s learnt as a vampire spawn, encouraging them to not see their vampiric heritage as a burden, but more of a blessing in disguise.

Sometimes, whilst travelling with the young dhampirs, he ponders over what he could have had with you if you were here.

Some nights, he would reflect on that moment in the depths of palace dungeons, if rejecting the ascension ritual was the right choice. But he quickly reconsiders it after seeing others throughout his travels who were consumed by the unbridled power that pacts made with fiends from the hells had offered. Twisting what once was a desire to protect their beloved from harm into a lovesick obsession, wishing to keep them chained together for eternity for better or worse. 

Even if he had the means to become a true vampire, the gift of immortality would have been impossible to bestow upon you since your body was irrefutably damaged during your death. Despite the damage done, he would travel to his old grave in the city, leaving your favourite flowers atop his grave, in hopes that whatever remains of your soul, would find your way back to a suited resting place.

One night, after returning from a difficult hunt, he notices a letter addressed to him, written in a familiar fragile hand, simply instructing him to return to the city of Baldur’s Gate to meet in the Elf Song tavern.

Upon his arrival at Elf Song, he recognised a familiar face that he hadn’t seen in a few years, now spouting a few more wrinkles upon her face than before, Lae’zel who was seated at a lone table in the centre of the tavern.

“Tsk, took you long enough Astarion or has your travels across the lands also twisted your sense of time judging by that tail you’ve grown on the back of your head?” she teased.

Briefly reminding the vampire of his curly-haired ponytail that he decided to keep over a decade or two ago.

“Hmph, travelling across Faerun has given me more experience than ever before, all that time up in the stars has seemed to give you a new set of wrinkles since we last met, but I pull them off better than you darling” he’d quip back.

The sound of clattering bones approaching them soon interrupts their conversation. Speak to the two of the return of the dead three yet again, wishing to plunge the world into chaos once again.

“And you expect just the two of us to take all three of them.”

Even the once stubborn Lae’zel agreed with Astarion, nodding silently towards Withers.

“As I would expect, though I invest a portion of power in those who have challenged the gods long ago who are prepared for battle once more.”

His frail arm directs them towards the doors of the tavern. A sight that he hadn’t seen in years, his friends all alive and well, nearly thought that this was a simple hallucination of his mind or a case of some bad blood he drunk the night before.

A loud voice pulls him from his thoughts as a heavy hand clasps over his shoulder, “Fangs! I didn’t recognise you there for a second, gods it feels amazing to be back with the gang again.” Karlach, looking the same way she did during her tadpole adventures, with one or two fewer scars, lets out a quiet hum of approval before standing up from his chair brushing through the crowd for any sign of you.

After a few minutes of looking around in silence, everyone he knew was there, alive and well, with perhaps one or two visual differences, but no notice of you. He gets up to leave, coming up with some half-heart excuse.

Approaching his old grave in the city, flowers that were placed since he last visited now wilted. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that the crusty old skeleton could bring you back alive, staring at the stone in silence before a soft voice interrupts him.

“Excuse me.”

Probably another flower seller here to pester him, replying in a harsh tone, 

“Leave me alone, I’m not interested right now.”

Until he hears the voice speak once more in a quizzical tone “Astarion?”.

A voice he thought he had all but forgotten, turning around to see you alive in the flesh.

Even when the darkness swallowed Astarion, during your absence, you still kept his promise to find him again, as you always do. Perhaps it was the flowers that guided you back to him or your memories of him, but regardless you apologise for making him wait for so long.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds just staring at you softly, before walking towards you and embracing tightly, softly whispering “If it was for you, it was worth the wait.”

When you both embark upon your new adventure, he always sticks close to you holding your hand as tight as he can, even during the nights, holding your chest close to his ear, just to hear your heart beating in its rhythmic pattern, just to have the peace of mind that you won’t slip out of his grasp, disappearing once again. He tells you the tales of his travels and misadventures along the way, even about the current vampire and dhampir culture within some cities.

After the defeat of the dead three yet again, the gods, under Withers approval, decided to gift you and your comrades with a longer life span, partly in thanks and mostly as a just-in-case cause.

After the dust had settled, the two of you decided to purchase a home using the funds that Astarion had saved from his adventures as a bounty hunter. Enjoying the domestic lifestyle together.

One night he approaches you, sheepishly asking if you would be interested in having a third person in your relationship.

“What so like a child?”

“Only if you want to that is”

“After the tales you’ve told me of caring for the dhampirs I wouldn’t mind, even if it’s our own or another.”

He would spoil the child rotten of course, in his own way. But in the end, he’s relieved to finally find peace again with you by his side.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion headcanons

[todaysdocument]

Letter from George Washington to Representative James Madison Regarding Plans for His Arrival in New York City for the Inauguration

Record Group 59: General Records of the Department of StateSeries: Letters ReceivedFile Unit: January THRU June 1789

Mount Vernon Mach 30th 1789    67

My dear Sir,

I have been favored with your letter of the 19th by which it appears that a quoram of Congress was hardly to be expected before the beginning of the [next?] week.  As this delay must be very irksome to the attending members, & every days continuance of it (before the government is in [illegible] be more sensibly felt.  I am resolved, none shall proceed from me that can not be avoided (after notice of the election is announced)and therefore I take the liberty of requesting the favor of you to engage a lodging for me previous to my arrival.  Mr Lear who has already lived with me three years as a private secretary, will accompany, preceed me in the stage - and (7) Colo Humphreys, I presume, will be of my Party & Mr Lear.  On the subject of those lodgings, I will be frankly declare to you that I mean to go into none, but hired ones.  If these cannot be had, tolerably convenient (then I shall not be nice about them).  I would take Rooms in the most decent Tavern, till such time as house <s>shall</s> can be provided for the reception more permanent of the President.  I have already declined a very polite & pressing invitation from the Governor, to lodge at his house till a place <s>can</s> could be prepared for me; after which should any other offers of a similar nature be made  &  then could be no propensity in my acceptance of it.  But as you <s>know</s> are fully acquainted with my sentiments on this lead, I shall only add that as I mean to avoid private families on the one hand so on another I am not anxious to be placed, <u>early</u> in a situation for entertaining; for which reason private lodgings till I can feel the way a little would not only be more agreeable to my own wishes, but, more consistent, possibly with the principles of sound policy.  For as it is my intention to conform to the public desire & expectation, with respect to the <s>proper</s> style [illegible] for the President to live in, it might be then to know what those are before he enters upon it.  After all something may perhaps have been decided upon before this shall have reached you that may make the request negatory.  If otherwise I will only in one word say that my wish is to be placed in an independent situation <s>with a view to what</s> for the purpose I have next.

To

The Hon[ora]blee Jas. [James] Madison

30th Mar. 1789

#archivesgov #March 30 #1789 #george washington #james madison #us president #18th century

[sashiavi]

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Diluc x Barmaid! Reader

♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Diluc Shares A Heated Moment With His Pretty Barmaid In The Store Room

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴰᶦˡᵘᶜ ᶜᵉⁿᵗʳᶦᶜ | ᵀᵒᵘᶜʰ ˢᵗᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ | ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʷᵒʳˢʰᶦᵖ | ᶜᵒᶜᵏ ʷᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ | ᵇˡᵒʷ ʲᵒᵇ | ᴼʳᵃˡ ᵐ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ | ˢᵉᵐⁱ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ².⁶ᵏ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Diluc was a mess

On the outside, Diluc was a Noble man, the very concept indoctrinated into his skull the moment the young Lord could comprehend the world around him. From a young age, he had been taught to uphold chivalry, nobility, to acknowledge an essence of respect and kindness for those around him, regardless of their background. Truthfully, such behavior had become muscle memory for Diluc, though he often detested most social interactions (or so he told himself) he found himself falling back into this routine automatically.

Sometimes though, Diluc garnered the wrong attention; A polite smile towards a young florist while making a purchase from Floral Whisper, accidentally taken as a sign of interest - (He genuinely for the life of him couldn't even recall her name, Diana? Dana?) Since that interaction, there were too many fleeting smiles and longing stares directed towards him almost every time he was headed to his place of work. From then on, he took the long route to Angel's Share; Behind the wall, through the dandelions, past the pier and right up the cobble stairs - Entering through the back-door for good measure.

Another incident he could note, was connected to the Knights of Favonius - Bumbling fools - no name knights pitching together, awfully chatty about the relationship between Acting Grand Master Jean and the charming and fiery Ex Cavalry Captain. He was so patient and seemingly kind to her, surely he was smitten. He had put an end to such rumors swiftly, potentially, accidentally, purposely; Depending on who you were asking - Causing a sudden resignation amongst the group, leaving the general civilian guards low on numbers.

In recent times, there were far too many cases in which his awkward habit had trickled into and affected his own work life - inconveniencing himself and the kind new Barmaid he had hired for his tavern. The few times he had held the heavy entrance door to Angels Share, nodding his head to the young woman, catching a passing scent of her soft perfume. Times he offered to carry and transport crates that were far too heavy and burdensome for a pretty little Barmaid. In far too many instances he caught himself checking up on her, offering her sweet and unique beverages, inquiring about her day, escorting her back to her little home within the walls of Monstadt. A sweet thing like her couldn't possibly hold her own, he had done it out of courtesy! Not because he was harboring any unprofessional notions towards her. Preposterous.

Diluc had always kept people at arm's length, displaying just the right amount of hospitality within his behavior. Never had he made a genuinely meaningful connection, on a deeper level than familial at least. Sure he cared for Adelinde and held his Father in high regard, he even spared a small place within his heart for Kaeya. But he could not recall a time where he had been in control, aware of his emotions, let alone falling into desire for another. Diluc was starved. Starved of affection, of touch, of connection. Defaulting into a false representation of himself, his outward character crafted meticulously, a barrier.

Diluc, though seemingly outwardly put together, was a mess. He had an affinity for dramatics, often making unconventional decisions when it came to most conscious interactions. He found an unusual comfort in the idea of being swallowed by the Abyss itself or crushed to death by a flaming meteorite rather than having to face people. This new Barmaid was dangerous, intimidating, she completely rewired his cranium. Diluc was at a loss, he worked his whole life through habitual means, spitting out the same lines a Noble should without a thought. But now, he found himself stumbling over himself, the learnt facade became uncomfortable, awkward. He didn't feel authentic, he had never wanted to break down the thick walls he had built around himself. Until now.

Now, finding himself picking up a greater amount of shifts at the tavern, lining his schedule up with the pretty new Barmaid's own. Now, rarely catching himself as he stares at her while she serves, all dolled up with a cute frilly apron, paired with a ruffled dress that would barely pass the taverns' dress code. Now, as he slips her a small quip about a regular customer, paired with a quick wink, relishing the sweet sound of her giggles. Now, as he wraps a strong arm around her shoulder, while he works to escort an aggravated (now ex) patron out of sight. Now, as he's somehow found himself, staring down at pretty doughy eyes, pitched up at his own. A soft velvet tongue slowly dragging under the thick head of his cock, catching salty beads of pre with a calculated flick.

Diluc lets out a soft breath, his tongue runs along his teeth and he swallows thickly. He's warm, more so than usual, his Vision usually always burns hot on his side, but this was different. Heat ripples from his cheeks to his neck, flushing his skin, warming the small room around them. The room was cramped, clearly made for produce storage with a maximum capacity of one person within the space at a given moment. He has to get back, he thinks, close up for the night and tidy the bar. The thought is fleeting however, he feels a warm breath on his length, accompanied by a short giggle and a sweet grin.

"You seem tense, Sir~" A voice calls from below him, poking fun. The pretty barmaid kisses against his pink tip, his sticky pre glosses her lips, leaving a decadent pearlescent sheen. Diluc's body shudders, his fingers dig into a shelf behind him and the wood moans in protest. His heart pounds in his ears, he struggles to find words, they're stuck in his throat, trapped behind a thick lump of suspense that's settled itself behind his tongue. The girl below him huffs, more out of affection rather than amusement. Her hands snake up his thighs, settling over his waistband and belt, the taught fabric still half on his body. Her thumbs knead into the flesh of his hip bone, softly circling over his sensitive, untouched skin. Diluc's heart stutters, never had he been touched so tenderly, goosebumps prickle down his arms and across his back, tickling at his tail bone.

"..'s okay Sir… I'll look after you.." His Barmaid hums and noses into his navel, she peers up at him, her eyes swim with something he can't quite decipher. She was dangerous, something washed over him, a feeling unknown to him until that moment. Something soft, attraction? Affection? He was warm, in his bones, his joints, his heart. This was something no one had prepared him for, and she was there to graciously lead him. Diluc swallows again, he blinks, his eyes are wet, since when was he crying? He breathes slowly, his hand tentatively reaches for his Barmaid's cheek, brushing his fingertips over the soft curve of her face. He was nervous, painfully so, never had he been so intimate with another person in his life and he was afraid she could tell. This was supposed to be a fun time. Quick, cheeky and taboo, he was ruining this for sure.

His Barmaid hums, she turns and faces the hand that grazes her face ever so softly. She peppers soft kisses against his fingers, warm and slightly wet against his knuckles. Diluc stares in awe, biting the side of his cheek with his molars. Her hands slide up to his waist, palming the skin under his clothes. He looks away, his face surely as red as the rest of him, he hoped she couldn't see. Her fingers were cool, caressing over his sides, which had embarrassingly softened since his "Prime". His life had drastically settled down compared to what it was a few years ago and his body followed suit, he was still strong, perhaps even stronger than he used to be, but he was not as lean nor visibly muscular (to him at least) as he once was. A hum crackles quietly from Diluc's throat, the sound tinted with embarrassment.

"..You're so handsome, Sir.." The pretty Barmaid keens, spreading her fingers as far as she could across his skin, touching as much as she could. Diluc's chest aches with a thump, his hand slides to the nape of her neck, her eyes meet his own. He licks at his bottom lip and she smiles so, so sweetly at him.

"You're really… P-Pretty.." Pretty? Was that all he could muster? The girl below him was ravishing, her uniform hugged her body so tenderly, dainty ruffles rested upon her form in just the right way. Her eyes dazzled, tinted with such a pronounced softness, it felt illegal to gaze into them. Her soft voice, her cool hands, the way she touched him. Pretty could not even begin to describe her.

"You're too kind, Sir.." She chews her lips and lingers a soft kiss against his skin. She was electrifying, she left his skin buzzing. The honorific she breathed; Sir, made his throat burn, that wasn't him. She was breaking him down, to the very core of himself, him, Diluc.

"Diluc.. Please, call me by my name; D-Diluc," The man breathes into the air of the room. He was opening himself to her, letting her lead him to wherever she desired. The Barmaid below him smiles up prettily, her nails drag along his skin and back into the waistband of his trousers.

"..Let me make you feel good… Diluc." She calls sweetly. His cock twitches as the sound of his name tumbles from her lips. He nearly growls as he exhales, suddenly desperate, nearly insatiable. His eyebrows pitch upwards, he nods his head, a soft 'please' hums from his throat. She noses back into his navel, peppering soft kisses up the base of his shaft. She drags her wet tongue under the thick vein that runs up the length of his cock, slowly, sweetly. Her eyes gaze at his own, straining to look up at him. Diluc's mouth falls open in awe as she licks and kisses against his flushed cock head. Her lips gloss with her spit, mixing dangerously with the slick beads of precum that drip from his slit. His length aches and twitches with her ministrations, to anyone else she was teasing him. To him, she was breaking him in. Easing him sweetly, taking such good care of him.

His pretty Barmaid wraps her plump lips around his leaky cock head, warm and wet, taking him in so softly. Diluc moans, quiet and breathless, his jaw slack, legs wobbling. She gently bobs her head, paying special attention to the tip of his cock, dragging her velvet tongue over and under it. She sighs out with every few drags of her lips, eyebrows crooked upwards, determined and focused. She takes him deeper, swallowing him down her throat. She was warm, her mouth was so warm, wet and divine. Diluc can't keep his eyes off of her, his pretty little Barmaid. The sleeves of her dress slip from her shoulders and she braces her hands on the crooked floorboards beneath her. Her arms squish her chest together, pressing the soft plush of her breast, oh so prettily. The ruffles of her uniform pool around her knees where she sat, perched in a cute little kneel right at his feet.

She presses her nose to his navel, lips touching the base of his thick cock. She squirms below him, clenching her thighs and rocking her hips into nothing. He marvels at her, for taking him in so earnestly. Her throat swallows around him sweetly, milking at his length. His cock twitches hard and she moans around him, stifled by the thick cockhead that bullies the back of her mouth. She breathes him in, inhaling the soft musk of his navel. Her eyes peer up at him and he breaks, they shine delicately with warm tears, barely illuminated through a crack in the door.

Diluc's fingers twitch anxiously, unknowing of where he should touch her, let alone if he even could. Was he allowed? His palms were warm, abnormally so. Tentatively, he cups his Barmaid's cheeks, encasing her face with his heated hands. Her face was cool, his thumbs rub over the plush curve of her skin. The girl at his feet keens into him, moaning out, high pitched and wanton. Her brow pitches and she draws back, dragging her pretty lips over the thick length of his cock. She sighs and sinks back down, maintaining a steady pace, earnestly servicing him. He sighs out a soft profanity, tilting his head back, the wooden shelf digs into his skull. He had never experienced a sensation quite like this, warm and wet and oddly passionate. His hands move, from the apple of her cheeks to her pretty hair, he twirls his digits into it.

Diluc tugs at the strands between his fingers, in turn, making the pretty Barmaid whine. She adds pressure, taking him impossibly deeper, licking against the underside of his cock with her soft tongue. Diluc grinds his teeth, his length aches hotly, spurting sweet beads of precum right into the girls' throat. He thrusts forward, smacking the back of her mouth with his blunt cock head, gagging her loudly. Diluc sharply sucks in air, muttering soft 'sorries' over and over. The Barmaid pulls off his length, she licks at her slick lips and kisses at the head of his cock.

"Do what you want.. Diluc, be selfish.." The Barmaid breathed, her words slurred, she was drunk on him. She sinks back down, dragging her lips over him heavily. Diluc tentatively pushes her head down onto his cock, overtaking her, now in control. He snaps his hips harshly, shoving his length into his pretty Barmaid. Hot tears run down her cheeks as he fucks his thick cock into her soft mouth. Her face stains with thick black smudges from her tears, tainted with her eye makeup. His grip on her hair is tight, selfish, aiding him in his own pleasure. He feels her gag and moan on his cock, the sounds vibrate deliciously on his length. Drool drips messily down her chin and she sloppily holds herself against his bullying pace. She squirms below him, pretty frilly fabric crunching against itself as she clenches and rubs her plush thighs together.

Diluc bites at his lip, the feeling was intense. He was getting close, he could feel his climax approaching. He marvels down at her, his pretty Barmaid, his girl, how sweetly she was taking him in. She looks up at him again, brows pitched and eyes lost. He was about to lose it. And he does. He groans out loud, hot cum pumps into his pretty Barmaids throat. She eagerly takes him, bobbing her head deeply on his length, milking out everything he had to offer her. She keens and whines, her breath huffing out of her nose. Diluc's legs wobble, he braces a hand behind him, perching back onto the shelf. His other hand delicately pulls the sweet Barmaid off of his length, cradling her cheek in his palm.

She sighs out and tilts her head to meet him, grinning dopily. There was a look in her eyes, something he could only describe as adoration. Her soft finger tickles at his stomach, tracing over the pale unseen skin. Her cheeks were stained with tear streaks, dyed black and grey from her pretty makeup. Her hair frazzled and her uniform not even half on her form, crinkled and strewn around her knees. She was a mess.

But so was Diluc.

𝙸'𝚖 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙷𝚒𝚖 ;; 𝙷𝚎 𝙸𝚜 𝙼𝚢 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 ♡

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐!! 𝙸 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚏 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝙱𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 :>

𝙸'𝚖 𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚜 ;;

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♡Masterlist♡

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♡𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝♡

•°𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙸𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝙸𝚏 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚃𝚘 𝙱𝚎 𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙾𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍•°

@neuvijade @madsw9

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𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙳𝚘 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗!

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #afab reader #genshin smut #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #head empty only diluc #diluc x you #im in love with him im soft for hiM #genshin impact smut #genshin fanfic #diluc x y/n #diluc x fem!reader #ʚ•*°SashiAvi Writes°*•ɞ

[88-special]

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x Reader (Female pronouns)

Part 1 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you didn't.

They were arguing again. They were always arguing. For a group of people who choose to spend all their time together they didn't seem to like each other very much. Y/n questioned her sanity, they all drove her crazy as well, but she too still chose to show up at every study group session. Maybe misery does love company, she smirked to herself.

"I just don't think it's fair!" Annie protested, "I go to every lecture, do my homework, take notes and then every time there's a test you all expect me to help you guys!" She ended her spiel with her arms crossed and a firm nod.

There was a chorus of objections, whines, and pleas from the group. Y/n mumbled about how she also has been at every class and has taken notes right alongside Annie. They quickly fell quiet when Jeff slammed his hands down on the table, starting another one of his famous pep talks. They went through this same song as dance every week it seemed. Y/n looked around the table, Annie was still pouting, but listening intently as Jeff spoke. Shirley sat alert, with her hands folded in front of her, nodding along glancing at Annie to see if the words were having their desired effect. Pierce was slouched back in his chair, head hung low - a snore escaped his open mouth, no one bothered to wake him, it was for the better. Troy and Abed were having some sort of silent conversation with a tremendous amount of eyebrow and shoulder wiggling. Britta was a near mirror image of Shirley, adding in a 'yeah' of support when appropriate.

"...In conclusion, America!"Jeff finished his monologue, plopping into his chair, arms spread wide, and a grin plastered on his face.

Annie dropped her shoulders, and sighing in defeat she pulled out her binder and began passing out individual copies of her notes. Y/n snatched her copy, eager to finally get studying and end the bickering. 

"So the test is supposed to cover chapters twelve through fourteen, I think we should quiz each other on vocab, and then-"

"VOCAB?!" Pierce cut in, irritable over the disruption of his nap. "As in vocabulary? We all already know words! How else would we be having this conversation?!"

"Pierce, you know that's not what-"

"Listen, I do know words, but what about-"

"What are these extra pages? Did we have homework?!-"

Annie, Troy, and Britta all began talking at once. Annie quickly shifted to chastise Britta. Pierce and Shirley launched into their third argument of the day. Troy and Abed pulled a magic eight ball seemingly out of thin air, to ask it if they were going to pass the test. Y/n gaped in horror before turning to Jeff who was oblivious, leaning back in his chair tapping away on his phone.

"Jeff, please do something!"

"They'll tire themselves out eventually." He shrugged without looking up.

Two hours later Y/n walked out of the library worried she was less prepared for the test than she had been this morning.

"Y/n!" Jeff called as she hurried down the steps. "Wait up!"

Y/n sighed and slowed her pace. Jeff jogged up to her, puffing out his chest as he discreetly tried to slow his breathing, ever concerned of his image.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink over at Tavern 32."

'This must be hell, I died and this is my penance, to be stuck in an endless loop of crazy. Maybe Greendale was actually purgatory.' Y/n thought to herself. The whole reason they are all here is to finish school, get whatever degree needed, and move on with their lives, hopefully never thinking of this fever dream of a school ever again. Well, maybe not Jeff, he seemed to see the campus as his own personal dating app. Y/n resumed her gate.

"How do you figure? We didn't even open the book! Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night studying at home." 

"Cool, cool, I'll just grab some drinks from the store and we can have our own private study sesh at your place" Dear god, that grin, how many women has he fooled with that grin alone?

" 'No' is a full sentence Jeff. Have a good night." Y/n continued to her car and sped off without a second glance.

He just couldn't win with her, none of his usual charms worked. Even Britta has succumbed a couple times, but Y/n was immune. He tried to shake off the rejection and headed home. Telling himself the only reason it bothered him was because he hadn't won her over yet. Once she gave in, he'd lose interest, just like he always did. It was just a game. It wasn't guilt he felt earlier when she looked at him disapprovingly for not stepping in on the groups arguing. It wasn't his heart speeding up when her hand brushed his at the study table. It's just a game, give him his prize and then on to the next one. Jeff smacked the steering wheel and jerked left into the parking lot of the same bar he was trying to take Y/n to earlier. He doesn't need Y/n, he doesn't need anyone. He's Jeff fucking Winger.

The next morning Jeff sat slumped in his chair. Sunglasses on, clutching his third espresso like a lifeline. Y/n took her usual seat next to him, slamming her notebook on the table, relishing in the groan that emitted from her hungover classmate.

"Studied too hard last night?" She mused. 

Jeff lifted his head to reply. He swore she couldn't be more perfect, but here she was, light streaming from the window behind her, setting her aglow, that huge ugly sweater swallowing her whole, and her unbrushed hair sticking out in every direction. She was holding out a breakfast sandwich to him. Jeff lifted his sunglasses with a questioning look.

"Sausage, egg, and cheese, best hangover cure there is." She beamed at him.

"How did you - "

"Good morning class, clear off your desks, you have forty-five minutes to complete..."

Y/n shifted her attention to their professor. Jeff dug into the sandwich, the grease immediately working its magic. As he ate, he snuck glances at the girl next to him. He needed to stop chasing her, she was way too good for him.

Part 2

#jeff winger x reader #joel mchale #greendale community college #community #jeff winger #Jeff winger x you #Jeff winger x y/n #britta perry #annie edison #shirley bennett #pierce hawthorne #troy barnes #abed nadir

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now? - Alternative Prologue

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Something in The Orange" - Niall Horan (originally performed by Zach Bryan)

Chapter Warnings: drinking to cope

Spotify Playlist: Here

Fic Chapter List

Chapter Notes: so I finished my tactician mode run as fallon this week, and i played it exactly how it plays out in her story (god!gale leaves her, karlach goes illithid, etc). I have now seen the epilogue party and how it goes if you romanced gale and he ascends to godhood and my brain has been whooshing ever since. So if i were to re-edit/re-write this entire story (i’m not– not right now anyway), just imagine this chapter slotted in between the prologue and chapter one.

Prologue B: You're Never Coming Home

When Fallon received the mysterious invitation requesting she attend a reunion party six months after defeating The Netherbrain, in the spot near The Emerald Grove where it all began, she immediately threw the invitation in the bin. Though she had seen most of her former companions several times since they parted ways on the docks, and though it would be nice to see her former companions again in one large group, Fallon had absolutely no desire to go anywhere that he might show up. Would whomever was throwing this party have even thought to invite him? Would he have even received the invitation? Fallon didn’t know where he was anymore, or if he’d become the god he sought out to become. As far as she knew, nobody had heard from him or spoken to him since he left. 

Not that Fallon’s friends dared to mention his name in her presence, so even if they knew of his whereabouts…they probably wouldn’t tell her. 

She should have expected that Shadowheart would show up at The Elfsong Tavern, where Fallon was still living, and demand Fallon attend. When Shadowheart threw open the curtains in the suite (curtains that had remained closed for the last six months), Fallon whined and buried herself under the blankets in her bed. “That’s fuckin’ bright, fuck.” Fallon complained, the dull headache she had from the previous evening’s attempt to drink until she reached peaceful oblivion intensifying. 

“Serves you right for living in darkness and not leaving this room for six months.” Shadowheart chastised her, and there was little sympathy in her friend’s tone. 

“That’s not true– I’ve left this room,” Fallon argued as she poked her head out from under the blankets, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the daylight now flooding her space. “I’ve gone downstairs.” Her words were slurred, and Fallon squeezed her eyes shut again, willing her brain to focus. There was no question about it: Fallon was definitely still a little drunk from last night.

Shadowheart tutted at her with her tongue and shook her head. The cleric didn’t need to say it for them both to know Fallon’s argument was weak, and going downstairs to the bar was not what Shadowheart meant. “Regardless, you’re leaving this tavern. You’re leaving Baldur’s Gate, and coming with me to the reunion party. If you won’t come willingly, I am prepared to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’ve all been doing. I’ve seen most of you in the last six months.” The only exceptions being Lae’zel, who had been off helping her people overthrow Vlaakith, and him. Everyone else had been by to see Fallon at least once in the last six months. Shadowheart ignored Fallon’s protests and disappeared from the bedroom. The sound of running water filled Fallon’s ears moments later and she realized Shadowheart was running her a bath. When the cleric reappeared, she stalked over to Fallon’s bed and ripped the blankets back, robbing Fallon of their warmth and the elf squawked with protest as she unsuccessfully reached for the blankets to cover herself again, if only to hide what she was sleeping in from her friend. 

Recognition immediately passed over Shadowheart’s face as she scanned the purple tunic that covered Fallon’s body, and pity filled the cleric’s eyes. “Where did you find that? I thought he took–” Shadowheart asked softly.  

“It was in my pack when– when he left. My guess is he left in such a hurry that he forgot I had it.” Fallon answered bitterly, unable to meet Shadowheart’s eyes. She hated the look of pity on her friend’s face, and Fallon wanted nothing more than to disappear back under the blankets and for her friend to leave. 

“And you sleep in it…to torture yourself?” Shadowheart questioned.

Fallon shrugged and curled her body into itself, wrapping her arms around her knees and pressing them to her chest. “I guess so.” The truth was that Fallon slept in the purple tunic because it still smelled like him, and when she wrapped her arms around herself before falling into her alcohol induced slumber every night, she could pretend they were his arms instead of her own. It didn’t always keep the nightmares she had about that day on the docks at bay, but at least when she woke up in a panic, the feeling of the velvet fabric and the lingering smell of his cologne was enough to bring her back to reality. Fallon was more certain than ever that he had enchanted his clothes to smell the way they did, because after sleeping in his tunic for six straight months, the familiar smell never faded. 

Shadowheart sighed as she took a seat on the bed at Fallon’s feet. She gently reached for Fallon’s hand and squeezed it. “If you stay home, he wins. He’s already robbed you of enough happiness– don’t let him take this from you, too.”

Fallon looked up at Shadowheart, fear shining in her eyes. “What if he shows up? I don’t think I can–” She said thickly, her voice threatening to crack as panic rose within her. 

“If he shows up, we’ll protect you. If you don’t want to speak to him, you don’t have to, and I will personally spend my entire evening concentrating on the most powerful Hold Person spell I know if he tries to speak to you without your permission.” Shadowheart tells her with more conviction than Fallon has heard from the cleric in a very long time. 

“And if Shadowheart’s spell fails, I will rip his throat out if he comes near you.” Fallon’s head snapped up as a new voice entered the conversation, and she saw Astarion leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. The serious look on his face softened when they made eye contact, and he offered her an easy smile. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”

“That depends. Are you here to help her drag me to this party?” Fallon eyed the vampire warily. 

Astarion pushed himself away from the door frame and entered the room, his red eyes looking around in distaste. “Well right now I’m here to drag you to the bath because if you smell half as bad as this room does, the only person surviving this party is me because I’m technically already dead, gods.”

Fallon scowled at him as he raised the collar of his shirt above his nose in an attempt to filter the alleged smell of her bedroom, and she looked to Shadowheart for confirmation it was as bad as he said. 

“He’s being dramatic, but…it does smell a bit like something died in here. The fact that you don’t smell it yourself is all the more reason to get you out of here for a while,” Shadowheart scrunched her nose as her attention turned from Astarion to Fallon. “Do we…want to know how long it’s been since you bathed?”  

That she couldn’t remember was telling enough. “Probably not.” Fallon shook her head, and Astarion made a disgusted noise in response. 

Shadowheart closed her eyes and sighed. “Please come to the party with us, Fallon. We all miss you.”

Fallon missed her friends, too, and hearing about what everyone had been up to in between taking turns checking in on her would be a nice distraction. “Ugh, fine.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, completely unbothered by the way Astarion’s eyes went wide as he realized Fallon was not wearing any pants, and the purple tunic barely covered her ass. If her friends had wanted her to be decent when they came over, they should have sent word or, at the very least, knocked. 

Aside from poking her head in to leave what Shadowheart deemed an “appropriate” outfit for Fallon to wear to the party (“Honestly, I’m just glad I found something clean.” she’d said), Astarion and Shadowheart did not bother Fallon while she soaked in the tub, or tell her to hurry up. When Fallon emerged from the bath an hour later, the smell of lavender hit her nostrils as she re-entered her bedroom. No matter what Shadowheart and Astarion claimed her room smelled like before, it definitely hadn’t smelled like lavender. Fallon’s jaw went slack as she observed the now pristine room. Fallon found Shadowheart and Astarion waiting for her in the sitting room and she gave the pair a look of awe. “Did you clean my room for me?” 

“I cleaned your room, yes.” Shadowheart confirmed and Astarion glared at her. 

“Excuse me, I–”

“You did not help, you fluffed her pillows so you could say you helped, but I did all the work.” Shadowheart cut him off, and Astarion rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever. We’re going to be late. Shall we go?” He stood from his chair and walked to Fallon, offering his arm. Fallon nodded and inhaled slowly, deeply, trying to calm her mind. 

“Lead the way.” Gods, there better be alcohol at this party. 

There was, mercifully, an abundance of alcohol at the reunion party, and everyone else seemed as interested in partaking as Fallon did. Wyll himself said he intended to drink a half-dozen bottles of wine by the time the night was over, so Fallon did not feel guilty for taking an entire bottle of red for herself. There was no sign of him yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t coming, so Fallon kept drinking. She was mindful to stick to the same brand and type of wine, so each time she opened a new bottle, it was less obvious. 

If anyone noticed that the elf had three full bottles of wine to herself in under two hours, nobody tried to stop her. It seemed like everyone was too happy to see her, especially out and about, to bother with telling her to slow down the drinking (if they noticed at all). Based on the look Astarion was constantly giving her, he’d definitely noticed. As she opened her fourth bottle of wine, her vision blurring at the edges and her balance beginning to falter as she swayed slightly, Fallon wondered why her friend was so uncharacteristically silent in his judgment of her. Then she saw a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye as something, rather someone tried to skirt their way out of Fallon’s line of sight. 

That was when Fallon felt it: the pull of otherworldly energy calling to her from across their former campsite. Slowly, Fallon turned her body as she searched for the campsite for the source. When she found it, Fallon inhaled sharply and nausea immediately began roiling in her stomach.

Gale. 

Not only that, but if the silver glow surrounding his body was any indication, he was a god. The man she loved more than anything had succeeded in his quest to reforge The Crown of Karsus and seize its power for himself. He’d gotten what he wanted, while she’d been left behind wondering what could have been. Shadowheart was at her side in an instant, and Fallon gripped her friend’s arm to steady herself and keep her entire body from trembling at the sight of him. 

“How long has he been here?” Fallon asked quietly. 

“Just long enough for Astarion to tell him to stay away from you.” Shadowheart rested her hand over Fallon’s.

As though he’d heard his name, Astarion appeared in front of Fallon, blocking her from Gale’s line of sight. “Are you okay? Say the word and I’ll take you home.” 

“No,” Fallon shook her head, closing her eyes. She was not okay, but she also wasn’t going to run away. “I’m not leaving. Remember what Shadowheart said before we came here? If I leave, he wins. I’m not letting him win.” 

“Are you sure?” Astarion asked, concern etched across his face. 

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon reiterated, as deja vu flooded her system and reminded her that she, Astarion, and Shadowheart had a similar exchange once where she refused to leave a location because of Gale. Only back then, it was at the Stormshore Tabernacle, and instead of waiting for Gale to leave before departing herself, she was waiting to leave until he returned from being summoned by Mystra.

Astarion sighed. “Okay. Just say the word though–”

“I’m fine, Astarion.” Fallon snapped. She was not fine, and they both knew it, but Fallon was too stubborn to admit it. Fallon released her grip on Shadowheart’s arm and took a long drink from her wine bottle, closing her eyes as she willed the alcohol to bring her to peaceful oblivion where she was unbothered by Gale’s presence. If Shadowheart and Astarion exchanged any looks, she did not see it. 

Fallon needed a distraction. Something stronger than wine, and when she turned to walk away from Astarion and Shadowheart as she lowered the bottle from her mouth, her eyes landed on the tall, broad figure of Halsin standing by the fire. 

A distraction, indeed. 

Fallon sauntered over to the druid with a coy smile on her face. “Hi friend.” She greeted like she hadn’t been speaking to him for half the night already. She stumbled slightly in her drunkenness, and her free hand instinctively reached for Halsin’s abnormally large bicep to steady herself, and the druid’s hands instinctively went to her waist to steady her. Fallon giggled. “My hero! I would have Fallon into the fire if you weren’t here. Wait– did I say Fallon instead of fallen? I’m Fallon.”

Halsin laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yes you are, friend. You’re also very drunk,” The druid’s hands dropped from her waist as soon as he was sure that Fallon was steady on her feet. “I take it you’ve had a good evening? The presence of a certain wizard hasn’t soured your mood?” 

“What wizard? There are no wizards here– just gods and mortals,” Fallon slurred, rolling her eyes. “My evening has been lovely, thank you. It’s been so good to see…well, almost everyone again. Could’ve done without Volo crashing. Or the god. Though I could think of a few ways it could be better.” She took another swig from her wine bottle as she eyed Halsin mischievously, like a cat circling in on a mouse. 

Halsin raised an eyebrow at her with a wary look on his face. “Oh?” 

Fallon stepped closer to Halsin, and as she did so, her eyes found Gale’s. Fallon inhaled sharply at the intensity of his gaze. He was watching her. Good. She turned her attention back to Halsin with a smile. “I seem to recall a time when you wanted to lay beneath the stars with me,” She placed her free hand on Halsin’s broad chest. “How about you and I find a place to watch the stars later…just the two of us?” Fallon bit her lip in a suggestive manner, her lips curling into a smirk as she eyed the druid.

Halsin covered Fallon’s hand on his chest with his own, and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly before redirecting her hand to her side and releasing it. “Flattered as I am that you sought me out, you have had quite a lot to drink this evening. I cannot in good conscience take you to bed in this condition,” The look on his face could only be described as gentle disappointment, like he was about to scold a child, not reject a fully grown woman’s advances. “However if, when you are sound of mind, this conversation comes back to you and you have sorted everything out with Gale and Astarion, you know where to find me.” 

Fallon stared at Halsin in confusion as he took a step back from her. “What do you mean? Sorted things out with Gale and Astarion?” 

Halsin chuckled. “It’s not often that one finds themself in a position where a god is ready to smite me where I stand and a vampire prepared to rip out my throat simply for placing my hands on a woman’s waist, but that is what just occurred,” He shrugged. “So you tell me.” 

With that, he bade her goodnight and Fallon was left alone by the fire, pouting and confused. Across the flames, she saw Gale again, and he looked smug. It was possible that was just his face now that he was a god, but even in her inebriated condition, Fallon had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Fallon downed the rest of her wine bottle and tossed it into the dirt with a soft thud before storming over to the god. 

“I wondered if I’d see you here,” Gale greeted her with a smile far too smug for someone who was seeing his ex-girlfriend for the first time in six months after abandoning her. “I imagine this must be quite a shock. Whatever you’re feeling, do not be afraid. I’m still me…just an improved version.” 

Fallon stared at Gale, stunned into silence at how casual he was being. “So you did it then. You became a god?”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Fallon hated the condescending smirk on Gale’s face. No, this was most definitely not an “improved” version of Gale by any means– Fallon knew that and she’d only been in his presence for less than thirty seconds.

“Was it worth it? Is godhood everything you dreamed it would be, despite what you had to give up?” Fallon asked him. 

“Of course it was worth it– it’s not like I had to give up anything of consequence. I had nothing. Spurned by my goddess, my power all but depleted, my reputation destroyed… That’s what I gave up when I reforged the crown.” 

“And me.” She muttered, her eyes dropping to the dirt beneath their feet. His words stung, and Fallon could feel the anger bubbling within her. 

“Sorry, what was that? I may be a god now but that doesn’t mean my hearing has improved.” Gale chuckled jokingly, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d upset her at all. 

“I said ‘and me.’ You had me, Gale. Though from the sound of it, I was nothing of consequence and meant nothing to you, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at how easy it was for you to give me up.” When she looked back up at him, fiery drunken anger shone in her eyes. 

Gale looked completely taken back by her outburst, and the mask of the confident god faltered. “Fallon, I– I did this for you. I told you that I needed to reforge the crown, then I could give you everything.” 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You did not do this for me. You were only thinking of yourself. If you were thinking of me, you never would have left me behind in the first place,” Fallon spat, and she reached forward to shove Gale as her anger manifested physically. The god of ambition was unmoved by her attempt to shove him. She was not sure when it happened, but Fallon had begun crying. “You were everything to me, and I meant nothing to you.” 

Gale tried to take a step towards her, reaching for her, but Fallon stepped back and out of his reach. “Don’t fucking touch me!” She yelled. As though he’d been waiting in the shadows for this very moment, Astarion appeared almost out of thin air and he stepped between Gale and Fallon.

“Back up, wizard.” He snarled at Gale, placing a hand on Gale’s chest as a warning to not take another step.

Gale tilted his head, his gaze flitting back and forth between Astarion and Fallon, then a look of understanding passed over his face. Gale’s nostrils flared as he scoffed.  “Well you certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?” He quipped to Astarion, causing the vampire to get right in his face. 

“Walk away, Gale. Now. Need I remind you that this very specific group of people have taken on the effigies of four different gods, and won?” Astarion threatened, and Fallon glanced around only to realize that the rest of their companions had gathered behind her– every single one of them ready to back Astarion if a fight broke out. 

Gale looked at his former companions, assessing the situation carefully. Then, slowly, he raised his hands in defeat and backed up. “As you wish. It was time for me to return to the heavens anyhow,” Gale’s eyes fell on Fallon and he looked at her longingly. “I truly did come here ready to offer you everything. How unfortunate that I believed you would wait for me.”

With a glow of ethereal light, Gale disappeared, and Fallon immediately collapsed into Astarion’s arms as sobs wracked through her body as their companions surrounded her. “I hate him,” She sobbed into Astarion’s chest. “I hate him.”  

Those three words were the only ones she knew as Astarion carried her back to Baldur’s Gate via the portal they arrived through, back to The Elfsong Tavern and up to the suite. She repeated her mantra as she allowed Astarion to help her change into a set of night clothes Shadowheart found while cleaning, and as he helped her into bed. 

“I hate him” was the last thing she said before she passed out in Astarion’s arms, curled up against his side. 

The headache was what woke her bright and early the next morning, followed by the nausea. Then the panic set in as she tried to remember the events of the previous evening, but her memory failed her completely. 

“The last thing I remember was talking to Lae’zel about Shadowheart moving in with her, and that was…pretty early in the evening?” She asked Astarion for confirmation, and he nodded. 

“Jesus…” Fallon paused for a moment, chewing on her lip as she tried to remember, but nothing came. “Did–did he show up?” 

Astarion was quiet for a moment, but then he sighed and shook his head. “No, darling. He didn’t come.” 

Of course he didn’t. Fallon blinked back the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes. “He’s never coming home, is he?” She said more to herself than to Astarion, and Astarion, bless him, seemed to know this, so he did not answer her. 

“I want to be alone, please.” Fallon said quietly as she laid back down on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Please, Astarion.” 

The vampire surveyed his friend silently, as though he were trying to figure out if she meant her words or not. “Alright. Shall I come by later to check in?” He asked as he rose from the bed..

Fallon shook her head. “I’ll call you if I need you. Promise.” She nodded her head towards the sending stone on her bedside table. 

Astarion nodded and began walking to the bedroom door, but he stopped halfway to the door and turned back to look at Fallon. “He never deserved you.” Astarion said softly. 

As he exited, he noticed the purple tunic Fallon had been wearing when he and Shadowheart arrived sitting on the top of a pile of dirty clothes, and in a split second decision, Astarion checked to make sure Fallon wasn’t watching before swiping the tunic from the top of the pile with the intention of throwing it away the second he passed a garbage bin outside the Elfsong Tavern. 

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale #gale of waterdeep #astarion #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale x tav #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

[angelsworks]

I love your work! Especially for the last kingdom!

I was wondering if you could write about a historian that somehow got stuck in the past and to them it’s time travel but for Uhtred and everyone else they see as a gift from the gods since she knows about 9th century England. Which helps Uhtred gain what he wants.

Our Gift Uhtred x reader

Type: Headcannon

Summary: After being sent to the past, a Dane takes an interest in your knowledge

Warnings: 18+ Yandere themes

History was your passion.

Specifically the time period you now found yourself in.

When you woke up in a small hamlet you recognised your surroundings; the home design, the clothes people wore, the way people spoke and acted.

You were in the medieval age. One you’d spent years studying.

At first the people in the hamlet thought it odd that a stranger had somehow appeared. Your knowledge of the time meant that you were able to blend in quickly.

You planned to continue your research of the medieval period in the quiet of the hamlet. Offering knowledge from your own time to help the people around you.

Your plans changed when a Uhtred and his men moved through the town. They stayed at a local inn as they made plans to attack a local fortress.

While they drank in the tavern you watched them quietly. Uhtred was one of the men you’d studied. So you knew a lot of his battles and defeats, his highs and lows and his inevitable downfall.

You knew that the attack on the fortress would fail miserably, with casualties of some of his closest men.

So you told him. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have. That action not only altered the course of history but started Uhtred’s obsession with you.

At first he thought it odd that a woman who looked somehow out of place with the others around him, was giving him tactical battle advice.

But as he mulled it over he saw no wrong in taking precautions. Those precautions were to take a separate group of men and exact your advice.

After all he’d seen he shouldn’t have been shocked that what you said would happen, happened.

After celebrating with his men he returned to that same village. Ready to find you and see if you had anymore advice for him.

Yet he didn’t find you there.

In the time he’d left you had realised the possible consequences of your actions.

When Uhtred - granted he was still alive - realised you were right you had no idea how he would react.

The history books didn’t record Uhtred exact personality or how he reacted when women knew things they weren’t supposed to.

It did make you think of what happened to women who could supposedly see the future. They were treated as witches and burned at the stake.

Not a future you desired. So you fled. On to the next hamlet or village you could reach by foot.

You did your best to stay unnoticed in your new home. Helping others occasionally and continuing your research quietly.

You heard from some associates a sick woman was in need of your help. Current healers had apparently drawn a blank with her case. She wondered if you could help.

When you arrived to the small hut on the outskirts of the village you were surprised to find it near abandoned.

You imagined the woman was extremely ill and weak. Any upkeep of her home had been long forgotten. A sight that was sad to see.

When you knocked you had no reply, so you let yourself in.

There you were grabbed from behind and the once dark room was lit to reveal Uhtred and his men. Having been concealed in the dark as they waited for you.

“I have followed you far Seer. You hide well.” Uhtred states. His demeanour remains unchanged, hidden from your eyes.

You say nothing. Outnumbered and unsure of the intentions of the men around you.

“I know now what you say is true. You are too valuable for me to leave behind. So I offer you now to travel with me, help me to conquer.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, telling Uhtred that one good piece of advice doesn’t mean you’ll be able to give him anymore.

“It’s a risk I cannot take. Pack up your things we ride tonight.”

It was hard to argue with the intimidating Dane sat before you, or his three friends that surrounded him. So you didn’t.

From then on you were practically forced to travel with the men. You rode for many days, learning little about them as you made your way to Uhtred’s home.

When you got there you met with a woman named Brida.

After some questionable rituals and candle lighting she had concluded you were a seer. You saw the future or glimpses of it.

She told Uhtred that you would be extremely valuable to him.

From then on any freedom you had was taken.

You were no longer able to walk the village on your own. Either Sihtric or Finann had to accompany you. They weren’t awful company but when you wanted to be alone it became annoying.

Uhtred’s interest in you only grew. Whenever he could you’d be sat near him, stood near him, riding on his horse with him.

It wasn’t long before Uhtred was convinced you would make a good wife for him.

With no one around him to tell him no, his desires were unchecked, let to run wild.

During Uhtred’s battles he keeps you close. Always consulting you on his plans and viewing your opinion with high regard.

Your knowledge of both history and a range of battles gives you a plethora of strategic plans and possible tactics of war.

Uhtred knows what an asset you are to him. He knows how much he can conquer with you by his side. He won’t ever let you go.

#angelsworks post #dark #the last kingdom #finan the last kingdom #sihtric the last kingdom #yandere uhtred #uhtred ragnarsson x reader #uhtred the last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg x reader