#i love when my troops come knocking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyfogg · 4 months

Text

Perfect Fit

Fic Summary: Since the first time you let him bite you, Astarion knew seducing you would be easy. What he didn’t anticipate were the feelings that came with it.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Drow!Monk Reader

Word Count: 11.7k

Warnings: Biting, Blood Drinking (Vampire and all that), Male Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Oral (Female Receiving), Sex, Grinding, Cuddling

A/N: I’m really glad I took my time with this one because I absolutely love how it came out. Enjoy! I don’t know if I’ll write any other Astarion fics but we’ll see.

---

Just a taste, that is all he needs.

Boars and wildlife will not suffice, not if your little troop of weirdos keeps going at the same grueling pace. Since the moment he had been snatched up and that damn tadpole shoved into his eye it has been one battle after another.

The diet Cazador forced him onto had already weakened him. And Astarion knew that if he did not do something soon, if he couldn’t keep up with the others, you will turn your back on him.

After all, why keep him around if he isn’t useful?

No, he needs to stay in your good graces. More than that, he needs you to trust him, to care for him. It’s the only way he can ensure that when his former master comes knocking, because Astarion is not naïve enough to assume he is completely free, you will be there shielding him, to knock back.

Which you are obviously capable of doing. He’s seen you fight enough times to know you have a quick temper and an even quicker right hook.

You are the defacto leader, the one who always seems to do the talking even though you’re not the most charismatic of the bunch. Yet, when you open your mouth, the others listen, take your word as law even when they don’t agree.

Astarion finds himself falling in line along with them. Then again, he has two hundred years of conditioning to contend with. He wonders what excuse the others have.

Regardless, the plan remains the same. Seduce you, get you on his side, save his spectacular, frankly tight, ass. Simple. He’s played this part more times than he can count and can do it in his trance.

Of course, none of that matters if he starves to death. The gnawing hunger deep in his belly is distracting and has been for days. He’s used to ignoring it, even in the thick of combat. But he can’t, not tonight.

Tonight, it’s bad enough to get in the way of hunting. He can’t keep up with a lame doe he stumbles across. It bolts before he is even close enough to lunge. Not good. He returns to his tent frustrated and desperate.

Red eyes scan the still camp, predatory and sharp. He told you all he would keep watch because he needed time and space to think, which is partially true. However, that was when he hoped to catch dinner.

How in the Hells can he bloody think when he’s starving?

There’s a rustling near the fire, immediately drawing his attention. His gaze falls on you while you shift, your back to him as your body rolls towards the warmth of the campfire. A breeze glides through their encampment, bringing your tantalizing scent towards him, beckoning, teasing.

Astarion takes a deep inhale, eyes closed as he unwittingly gives into his instincts. Hunting pushes them away. But with no wildlife to sate him, his feet move on their own, dragging him closer to your prone body. When he opens his eyes, his vision blocks out everything that isn’t you.

The hunger is all that matters and right now, the hunter has finally found his prey.

His steps make no noise as practice and skill take over. He’s close enough to see the subtle rise and fall of your breath, the dim firelight framing you with its eerie glow, leading him like a beacon in the never-ending dark.

Astarion takes a knee, arms out for balance and eyes closed as he moves purely on instinct. He opens his mouth, fangs dripping with saliva at the promise of a meal, a real meal…

A second later he feels you move and his eyes snap open, only to find yours staring up at him. Cold realization slams into him like a heavy maul, making him blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Shit.”

Immediately, he backs away as you quickly rise to your feet, eyes narrowed in distrust. You don’t even have a chance to speak before he launches into an explanation, trying to keep his voice hushed to avoid waking the others.

“No, no, it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he insists. “I wasn’t going to hurt you I…” He pauses, taking a breath to ground himself. The bloodlust isn’t satiated, not by a long shot but it is tempered by a furious-looking monk. “I just needed…well…blood.”

It sounds lame even to his own ears. Not his best work but, then again, he isn’t at his best.

You swear, burying your face in your hands. “Fucking unbelievable!” you exclaim in a harsh whisper. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it! We even found the boar you snacked on. And you were so quick to brush it away.”

“It’s not what you think!”

Astarion’s voice goes up and you motion for him to be quiet. A quick glance confirms the others are still fast asleep.

The next thing he knows, you’re grabbing his sleeve and tugging him away from the fire, away from the others, which is not at all what he's anticipating. He doesn’t even have a chance to register you’re touching until your hand is already gone, leaving a phantom of its warmth.

“I’m not some monster,” he persuades. “I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds, whatever I can get. I’m…I’m just too slow right now. Too weak.” He pauses, the hunger taking hold once more. “If I just had a little blood, I could fight better. Please.”

There’s a sharp pain between his eyes, the familiar trigger of the tadpole lodged in his brain. He recognizes the sensation, knows it’s you reaching out, asking, and after a moment of hesitation, he lets you in.

Unlike your companions, you’ve embraced the new connection, used it to convince others to move out of your way or do as you say. Not within the group of course. He suspects you’re too noble for that.

Astarion hasn’t had much time to practice himself. No time like the present. He needs you to see, needs you to understand that what he says is true.

The trust he is trying to build is at stake, no pun intended. You need to see that this is an anomaly, an unfortunate side effect of the intense fighting you both had to endure the last few days.

So Astarion shows you, lets you see fleeting images of what he’s hunted in the woods. But this is all still new. He does not know how it works, does not anticipate the flood of other memories, personal ones he isn’t ready to share.

A dark street, a willing mark, a soft supple body for Cazador’s dark needs. They flicker one after another, a blur of faceless victims he’s lost count of. Yet, none of them with his fangs at their throat or their blood on his lips. It becomes too much too fast.

He gathers his strength and throws up those mental blocks, the ones he’s had for decades yet seem to be crumbling in an instant. With a mental shove, he pushes you out.

While Astarion's body reels from the onslaught, you remain stoic, arms crossed as you stare at him with that intense gaze of yours. The only indication anything is amiss is a head tilt.

How? How are you already so used to these damn tadpoles? You don’t even blink, and with the shadows of the night wrapped around the both of you, he can’t read your expression even with Darkvision. But he can assume and right now, he’s sure he’s fucked up. All he needed was you to trust him and because of this insistent hunger, he’s failed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is not the question he expects and he blinks, taken aback. You don’t sound angry, hells it would be easier if you were. Anger he’s used to, can handle with poise. But Astarion thinks he can work with this, whatever it is.

Because it’s not pity, it’s not empathy, it’s something he does not have a name for.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no, more likely you’ll run a stake through my ribs,” he explains. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

Of course you can’t. Anyone who ever put their trust in him came to bloody ends. Yet, he’s seen you drop a gnoll with nothing but your fists and an insane high kick, so he feels you may be sturdier than most.

You study him closely, and Astarion does everything to appear docile and properly chastised, hunching his body to make himself smaller. There’s a beat where neither of you blink or speak. However, he catches the subtle slump of your shoulders and a sigh escapes your lips.

“I believe you,” you say. “And I do trust you.”

Astarion slowly exhales his own sigh, this one of relief. “Thank you,” he says.

Then, because he can’t help himself, because his empty stomach twists, because you’re still close enough for him to inhale your scent, he pushes his luck.

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he asks, a hopeful lilt to his voice as he bats his eyelashes at you. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

He fully expects your refusal and wouldn’t blame you in the slightest. As much as this hunger is driving him to madness, he is fully prepared to slink away with his tail tucked between his legs if it means he lives to seduce you another day.

Yet the next words out of your mouth throw him off his game.

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need.”

There’s no hiding the surprise on his face. He knows you see it yet you don’t gloat or react, only smile.

“Really? I—” He clears his throat and recovers, swagger in place as comfortable as a well-worn mask molded just for him. “Of course, not one drop more. Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions towards your bedroll with a bow. As you brush past and turn towards the fire, your smirk is wider, as if you can tell how much excitement is building within him. Then again, with the tadpole and your uncanny ability to read people, you probably do.

The others are still silent and sleeping as you lay back on your bedroll. Astarion’s chest heaves and he licks his lips as the prospect of blood, humanoid blood, becomes all he can focus on. He’s salivating again, red eyes drawn to the smooth expanse of your neck.

At first, all he can hear is the crackling of the fire. But when he leans in, the steady beating of your heart breaks through the noises of the night. Bloody Hells, he can hear the blood rushing through your veins. It hypnotizes him, draws him forward as you roll your head to the side.

White fangs pierce dark skin, sliding clean through to find a thick, pulsing vein. Underneath the rush, he almost misses the soft gasp push past your lips.

Almost.

But he doesn’t have time to process it because the first drops of blood touch his tongue and nothing else matters. Not mind flayers, not tadpoles, not Cazador, nothing but the sweet, red liquid that is sliding down his throat carrying your scent.

Everything else before pales in comparison.

There’s no fear. When he hunts he can taste the deep fear of his prey in their final moments. But this is different. You are different.

It’s such an onslaught of emotions he can’t process them right away. It’s secondhand, like trying to grab a rapidly fading echo in a dark cave.

Astarion doesn’t anticipate it and can’t recognize half of them at first. Sensation is what he does recognize. Pain is immediate, followed by warmth leading into heat in his cheeks and stomach. So much heat. He’s been cold for two hundred years, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have body heat, to be hot.

His body naturally curls around yours, one hand sliding under your head to cradle it close. The fingers of his other hand dig into the packed soil, gripping for something solid yet finding nothing.

Your body arches into his, breasts pressed to his chest and for the briefest moment, he imagines how better this would be if he could feel your bare skin to his.

Then another splatter of blood hits the back of his throat as your heart rate increases and the thought is lost.

Instinct wins out once more and Astarion groans, sucking at the wound with renewed fervor. This is better than he could have imagined. You’re better. All robust and tantalizingly smooth, finer than the finest wine he’s ever sampled. He licks at your skin, gathering as much of the precious liquid as he can. He knows it’s supposed to be a taste, but he needs more. Wants more…

A hand on his shoulder draws him out of his stupor and a firm shove has him breaking free with an orgasmic gasp. Life now drums through his veins, yours and his comingling into a surge of energy that has his dead heart thrumming harder than he ever remembers.

“Enough,” you say, your voice gruff and small, though still commanding. He thinks for a moment you might have actually cast Command on him, until his addled brain remembers you don’t use magic.

Astarion pulls himself together, comes back into his body in a way that’s far more pleasant than it has been in the past. He’s sure he’s made a mess but when he looks down, all he sees are two small puncture wounds with the barest hint of blood. Small specks of his spit glint in the firelight.

He resists the urge to kiss them away, instead stumbling back onto his haunches to give you space.

You slowly sit up and he catches you wincing. It’s the brief flash of pain that helps him reign himself further in. You said you trusted him, let him drink from you, he will not, could not, betray that trust, the gift you’ve given him.

“Of course,” he says, voice breathless as he tries to remember how to speak. “That was amazing.” He smiles wide, feels a droplet of blood slip away from the corner of his lips as he does. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong, I feel…” The faintest hint of emotions still lingers. “…happy.”

You both sit quietly for a moment, air thick with tension and a hint of copper. Your scent is even stronger now and Astarion thinks he could track you from miles away if need be.

“I look forward to seeing you fight.”

Right, the whole reason you did this. To help him be stronger, useful. It’s those thoughts that ground him once more, snap his head out of the clouds and onto the hard forest floor.

Astarion stands while you remain right where you are, watching every move he makes. He wonders if you are waiting for him to pounce, waiting for the monster he assured you does not exist. When he speaks again, it’s the light, easy tone he’s perfected, like sliding the mask back into place.

“Shouldn’t take long so many people need killing,” he says, flippantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating but I need something more filling.”

Nothing will escape him now. He swears he can take down a bear should he be lucky enough to find one.

He turns to leave, yet something stops him from taking the next step. When he glances at you over his shoulder, for a moment, the mask slips and he allows you to see the genuine gratitude he feels.

“This is a gift, you know,” he tells you. “I won't forget it.”

Not staying for a response, he turns away and stalks toward the darkness of the waiting forest. When he’s sure you can’t see him, he swipes that drop off his chin with his thumb, sucking it into his mouth to enjoy the final taste of your essence.

He is content for this to be a one-time thing, a special circumstance he is lucky enough to experience. And though he already longs for more, he enjoys the heat while he can, letting it carry him through the night as he hunts his next prey.

So imagine his surprise when you approach his tent only two days later, wounds barely visible under your collar. Astarion is readying his weapons, preparing for yet another trek through the wilds.

You’re in your vestiges, your arms free say for the thin bracers protecting your wrists. Your stance is sure and confident, eyes alight with something he hasn’t seen in them yet.

“We’re ready to head out,” you say. “Got everything?”

“Prepared and ready for the inevitable descent into violence.”

“How are you feeling?”

For anyone else the question wouldn’t be so loaded. He gathers you’re probably wondering if he’s going to try to steal another bite at some point.

“Fit as a fiddle. Your donation was much appreciated and helpful,” he says, sliding his daggers into their scabbards. “The effects are mostly worn off but such is life. I’m not weak if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not. But, if you need to, you can feed on me tonight.”

Astarion can barely contain himself, thrilled at the prospect of another surge of power, and that his seduction skills are working, though not entirely as he expected. Still, it’s an opportunity he will not squander.

“My sweet, there’s nothing I’d like more,” he purrs, stepping in close. He catches the darkening of your cheeks and lets himself smile in triumph. “I’ll come to you tonight, when you’re snuggly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy. And this time,” he drops his voice for added effect, “I’ll make sure I’m quiet. We don’t want to disturb your rest.”

It's not lost on him that the night after his first taste you took to sleeping in a tent rather than under the stars. The added privacy had him wondering about its purpose.

Now he knows.

Taking another step closer, he drops his voice even lower, keeping the moment between you two. “Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up,” he promises. “Just enough to give me strength and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Your breath catches in your throat and he knows right then that he has you. Even as you smirk and roll your eyes, his pleased smile never falters.

“Great line,” you say, walking backward towards Karlach and Shadowheart, who are waiting for the two of you. “Has that ever worked for you?”

“Numerous times. And trust me, you haven’t heard half my lines.”

“Is that what you do in front of the mirror now that you can’t fawn over yourself?”

“Hurtful!” he gasps in mock outrage. “Also, need I remind you, you came to me just now.”

“And you came to me the other night.”

“Fair point,” he begrudgingly admits, slinging his bow onto his back. “Although, I did ask for just a taste. If you’re wanting another nibble, that says more about you than it does about me. I’m a vampire spawn. What’s your excuse?”

By you’ve turned your back on him and though he can’t see your face, the middle finger you aim his way lets him know he’s won the argument.

The anticipation of his next feeding carries him through the day.

It’s ever-present in the back of his mind, fueling his hunger and drive. He fights harder because he knows that come nightfall, he won’t have to hunt for his meal. You’ll be there in your bedroll, ready and willing.

Astarion can’t suppress the shudder of longing every time he thinks about it.

Waiting never felt so long.

You’re moving closer to the goblin camp with every step, picking off stragglers as you find them. Shadowheart asks the corpses for information and you’re able to narrow down the location of the druid right down to which building he's in.

When you make camp, you’re only half a day’s travel to your destination. Everyone is exhausted and moody, with little talk this time over the campfire. It doesn’t bother Astarion, who felt you all were becoming far too chummy for his liking.

He waits and watches from his tent, taking note as one by one, the others peel off to their respective spaces. You’re one of the last, your eyes straying across the camp in his direction, meeting the gaze that has been transfixed on you the entire time.

As if to tease, your scent finds your way to him on the wind, making his head spin. He gives you a wink and a smirk. You smile back and quirk an eyebrow before disappearing into your tent like the others.

Astarion bides his time, waits until everyone stops rustling and the collective silence of sleep washes over the camp.

Wyll is on watch tonight, though his back is to your tent. Astarion keeps to the shadows and easily dodges him, making no sound as he slips past.

You’re fast asleep, buried in your bedroll with a blanket loosely draped over you.

Astarion feels that familiar tug low in his belly, lets his feet guide him closer. He doesn’t need the fire to see you there, peaceful, almost angelic. You changed into a looser tunic which has slid down to reveal a shoulder.

And the faded markings he left on your throat the other night.

Astarion kneels and then crawls up behind you, slow and careful. He said he wouldn’t disturb your rest and he meant it. No need to wake you when you’ve given your consent.

Besides, as sneaky as he is, Astarion wonders if you’re that light of a sleeper, considering how easily you awoke the last time. He lays behind you, gently peeling the blanket away. Your tunic slips lower when he does and at this angle, he catches just the faintest glimpse of the top of a breast.

It makes him pause, give an appreciative glance, before your neck beckons him.

The hunger urges him forward, begging, pleading with him to drink. You’re so close and warm and vulnerable. He does his best to lean over without touching you, but you automatically tense in your sleep when you feel the coolness of his body draw near.

Leaning down, he lets his lips brush your ear as he whispers, “It’s just me, darling. Go back to sleep.”

You hum and relax once more, dropping your shoulder in the process. The angle is too good and he is too famished to wait any longer.

Astarion bites down, his fangs lining up exactly where they pierced before. His mouth fits against your throat like it was made for him.

A perfect fit.

There’s no need to rush and he is able to savor the experience. This time, a sense of calm washes over him, making his eyes droop closed as the now-familiar yet no less exquisite rush of your blood fills his mouth. Deep down there’s a sense of injustice for being denied this experience for so long.

However, he wonders if it would have been the same without the anticipation and thrill of the chase. Without you in the equation. After all, you’re a powerful person, unyielding in your convictions.

Yet, here you are, offering your blood to him. Giving him power.

He keeps his fangs buried for a moment longer, holds himself there until his mouth is brimming with the taste of you.

Only then does he retract them, sucking softly on the reopened wound to drink his fill. You’re fast asleep, which means that he has to stop himself this time. You’re not aware enough to do it for him.

When he wanted to earn your trust, he did not think you would give it to him so freely. What else will you give him? What else can he get away with? Questions for another night.

Thankfully, he can force himself to stop once that welcoming heat spreads through every part of him.

Every part.

Fucking Hells he is hard as a rock.

It catches Astarion by surprise and he immediately draws away. He finds himself panting, his lips still coated in red as he glances down at himself.

Is it the act of drinking blood or the blood itself? Feeding on animals certainly never drew this reaction.

His head is spinning from bloodlust and arousal, and he feels the need to leave your tent as soon as possible. You signed up to be his meal, not to get him off.

Not yet anyway. Shame, if you were awake he could make his move. He briefly considers rousing you with honeyed words and lustful promises but he decides against it in the end.

Maybe next time.

As he cleans up the mess he’s left on your throat, licking away the remaining drops of blood, he can’t help palming himself at the same time. He’s barely able to contain a hiss at the sensitivity.

Fuck, if this is just from feeding on you, what’s going to happen when he gets to have you another way?

Astarion reluctantly withdraws, readjusting your tunic before draping your blanket back in place. Your breathing never hitches and remains steady, even when he slips out into the night.

With fresh blood pumping through his veins, his body is strong and alive. He feels so fucking alive. He barely takes a few steps before the hardness in his trousers proves too distracting, forcing him to rest against a tree.

If he turns his head, he can still see your tent through the bushes and trees. It surprises him that he wants to go back. Then again, you are the most interesting prospect around and a part of you is within him now.

Soon, a part of him will be in you, he promises himself.

Astarion unties the laces of his trousers and pulls his cock out, finally allowing the hiss he held back earlier. It throbs persistently, begging for him to do something, anything for release. He gives himself an experimental squeeze, wondering if he has the mind for this right now. But it’s too good and he’s too worked up to deny himself.

His eyes never leave your tent as he strokes his cock. Slow at first, but that quickly proves not enough and he speeds up.

Astarion has had too many lovers to count but it has been some time since he’s had to take matters into his own hands. And yes, he plans on seducing you and may even find you attractive, but this is not in the plan.

It certainly didn’t happen the other night.

Moving purely on urges, Astarion lets his head fall back against the tree trunk, and his eyes close, picturing himself back in your tent.

If only you’d been awake, he could have pressed against you, let you feel the length of him as he drank his fill.

Would you grind back? Would you gasp? He’s more than sure that he can get you to do both. When he finally gets you where he wants you, when he finally has you writhing and moaning his name, he's not going to let you cum until you beg for it, beg for him to fill you as he drinks from that delicious throat.

With a strangled moan, he cums onto the forest floor, his knees buckling under the sudden onslaught of sensation.

Putting his full weight against the tree for support, he takes a moment to catch his breath mind, and senses hyper-aware of every rustle of leaves and gust of wind. With his lust now stated, there is an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt.

What the Hells is with all this wanting and desire? He is not allowed to want. Seducing you isn’t about desire. Neither of those emotions should be there and yet they are.

Let’s just push those way back where they belong, he thinks as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

His head is clearer now, his focus as sharp as it was the previous night. Brushing the incident off, Astarion switches into hunting mode, his grin wide enough to verge on the side of madness as he bolts into the forest, with nothing but the thought of his next kill.

Your offer of blood becomes a regular occurrence.

Not every day but often enough for Astarion to notice a significant change in himself, his power. He is faster and stronger than he has ever been. There is still the situation of becoming immensely horny when he does feed on you, but he looks on the bright side and accepts it as an unexpected bonus.

On days when your party runs into a fight, he finds himself drained but not enough to impede his hunting.

A fact he brags about one night when he stumbles back to camp, brimming with excitement and pride.

“Guess what I just did!” he exclaims, plopping beside you on the ground by the fire that seems to have your attention.

It’s your night to keep watch which means he is out of luck for his midnight snack, as he’s taken to calling you. Much to your chagrin.

You chuckle and motion towards his mouth. “Judging by the blood I’m assuming you caught a nice dinner,” you say.

Astarion impatiently wipes it away. “Not just dinner, a bear! A whole bear!”

“Gods, you drank a whole bear?”

He nods proudly, grin wide and sloppy. “Now, it wasn’t as good a vintage as Drow,” he concedes with a wink your way. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I was able to kill it all by my lonesome and nary a curl out of place.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Kind of,” he slurs.

In truth, he is euphoric, untouchable. Between proper feedings and the tadpole, Astarion feels he is the strongest vampire spawn there may have ever been. Tonight, like the first night he bit you, there is no Cazador, mind flayer, or other threat. There’s only him and the blood of the black bear that he’s taken for himself.

And you, of course.

You smile in amusement, turning your attention to the fire.

Astarion leans back on his elbows, his body wonderfully loose and relaxed for the first time in decades. He takes the time to study your profile, his delirious mind focusing for the moment. He is acutely aware that it is only the two of you, a rarity considering the size of the camp.

Between the adrenaline of the hunt and the opportunity that comes with privacy, Astarion shifts closer, not enough to touch but enough for you to know he’s done so.

“You know, darling,” he drawls. “I don’t think I’ve told you how devastatingly beautiful you look by firelight.”

You don’t respond and at first, he wonders if you heard him. When it becomes apparent you haven’t, he clears his throat and tries again.

“The way the flames reflect in your eyes is hypnotizing,” he continues. “I can get lost in them, have been lost in them ever since we met.”

Still nothing. Astarion feels you’re miles away, which his pride will not stand for, not when he feels as good as he does and is throwing you all the signals.

He sits up and waves a hand in front of your face. “Helllooo? Devilishly handsome roguish vampire here giving you compliments. The least you can do is acknowledge me.”

You blink and tear your eyes away from the flames, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ignore you. I’m not very good company tonight, I’m afraid.”

Astarion shrugs and sits up, interest piqued. “That’s alright, darling. We don’t need to talk. There are plenty of other ways we can enjoy each other’s company.”

You roll your eyes as you look back at the fire with that amused smile you seem to reserve only for him. “Hey, if I could turn my brain off for the night, I’d take you up on that,” you admit.

Finally feeling like he’s getting somewhere, Astarion leans in closer. “You’re in luck because I happen to be a delectable distraction. All you have to do is say the word.” He pauses before adding. “I’m talking about sex of course. We should have sex.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what you meant.”

Astarion grins, reaching out to walk his fingers up your forearm, playfully tugging at the sleeve of your tunic. “So what are we waiting for?” he purrs. “A midnight snack is all well and good, but I wouldn’t mind sampling what else you have to offer.”

As full as he is, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in another nibble. There’s something special about your blood, enticing. When he’s this close to you it becomes all he can think about and he has to stop himself from nuzzling your throat. At least until he knows he has you.

“I want to,” you tell him, finally meeting his gaze. “I really really want to.”

“Then what’s the problem? I am ready, willing, and certainly able.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

Astarion frowns, confused. This has always worked before, there’s no reason for it not to work now. He doesn’t get it. You’re clearly attracted to him and he’s doing everything but presenting himself on a silver platter. By now you should be throwing yourself at his feet.

And there’s no way he’s lost his touch because that would be like saying the sky is no longer blue.

You take a deep breath and when you start to speak again, it comes out in a rush, like you’ve been holding the words in for far too long and can’t any longer.

“There is so much at stake and so many people are depending on us, on me. It’s all I think about. I can’t focus on anything else. For days it’s been one crisis after another. On top of that, everyone keeps saying that we need to get rid of the tadpoles and that we should have turned already. We rescued Halsin but he can’t do what we hoped he would and I’m just…”

You let out a noise of frustration and Astarion is back to grinning because this he can work with. This he understands.

“Aren’t monks taught to still their minds?” he teases.

“I didn’t become a monk to still my mind. I became a monk because I like punching things. It’s honestly my favorite thing to do.” You take a deep breath before falling onto your back to stare up at the stars. “But now everyone keeps looking to me for answers and I just don’t have them. Nor do I want to be the one to figure all this shit out.”

Perfect, a new angle.

Astarion leans over you, forcing you to look him in the eye. “It’s just as I feared. You need me more than I thought.” He bends his head, delighted when you instinctively present your neck. He places the gentlest of kisses to bite mark, nuzzling into your soft skin like he’s been wanting to do since he sat down. “If you need your mind on something else, let it be me. Let me touch you, taste you. Let me bring you to such unbearable peaks that you forget everything that isn’t my mouth, fingers, or cock.”

You moan softly, shuddering at the warmth of his breath. “I don’t know if you can.”

Astarion draws back, a wide smile showing off his sharp canines. “Trust me, darling, I can.” He slides a hand up to cradle your head just like he did the first night he bit you. But it’s kisses he lavishes your throat with, with the occasional scrape of his teeth.

A gentle hand on his shoulder has him pulling away.

“You seem pretty confident about that,” you say, eyes searching his.

“Because it’s true.”

He knows what you’re searching for and does everything he can to make sure his gaze speaks for him. Lust and desire, mixed with a touch of hopefulness. Disarming and endearing, exactly who he needs to be for you.

“Here is what we’re going to do,” he continues, putting all his weight on one hand so he can use the other to take yours. “Tomorrow night, once everyone is asleep, I’ll slip into your tent, and I will make it so that pretty little head of yours can focus on something else. Something much more pleasurable.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss, first to your fingers, then your bruised knuckles, and finally to your inner wrist where he can feel your pulse racing. The sound of your rushing blood makes his own body thrum with desire. His hunger returns, but not enough to distract him.

But enough to make him twitch with anticipation.

At this angle, he knows you can feel it when his cock hardens. Your eyes widen and you bite your lip to stifle another moan when he teasingly grinds down against you.

“I…” You try to speak but need to take a second to catch your breath. “I would like that very much.”

“Good.”

Astarion leans down and captures your lips in a harsh kiss. It’s meant to be quick, a tease, a way to continue the seduction and leave you wanting more but it immediately becomes something else. You match his energy perfectly, your tongue slipping past his to explore. He isn’t expecting such a hungry response after the way you seemed so controlled, fully expecting it to take time for him to get you to this level.

Apparently, you’re closer to the edge than he thought. But it’s more than that. Kissing you makes him feel…something. He just doesn’t know what in the Hells that is. It makes it difficult to pull away, to stop, and make you wait.

So he indulges, deepens the kiss by leisurely licking the inside of your mouth once you actually let him. It’s good, really good. Enough to lose himself for the moment, to cup your cheek and hold you close.

His head is spinning and in his excitement, one of his fangs nicks your bottom lip.

A drop of your blood is enough to snap him out of it. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to ruin everything. He’ll either fuck or drain you and right now he’s not sure which.

Astarion abruptly breaks the kiss, not before his tongue at your lip to steal another drop. “Until tomorrow night,” he promises.

He leaves you there, dazed and staring after him as he casually strolls back to his tent. Leaving you wanting more, just like he planned.

And definitely not because of any other reason.

Needless to say, trancing doesn’t come easy that night. Every time he closes his eyes, all he envisions is you in the firelight, looking up at him like he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Granted, he knows he is, but that’s beside the point.

If he’s honest with himself, there may be a small, tiny part of him that feels bad for deceiving you this way. Granted, he is attracted to you and the idea of having sex sounds incredibly appealing.

So what if there is another motive? You both will come out on top in the end, metaphorically speaking. Although, the mental image of you riding him is quite good. Body rocking, breasts bouncing, wet heat enveloping his lap…

Astarion needs a distraction himself at this rate.

The next day he maintains his distance for both your sakes. For one thing, he knows being apart from your object of desire only makes the chase that more thrilling. And for another, he is dealing with a storm of emotions he is not prepared for nor interested in.

On occasion when he can’t help but slide his gaze your way, you seem thoroughly focused every time. He doesn’t catch you looking longingly his way, not even once, and finds it frankly insulting. How can you be so engrossed in what you’re doing even though you know he will be in your bed later?

Unacceptable.

When you both find yourselves set upon by cultists, Astarion is relieved. He needs a good bloodbath to pull his shit together.

His daggers get quite the workout, slicing enemies left and right.

Lost in the thrill of the kill, he forgets about the weird feelings and the way his seduction of you seems to be more complicated than he thought it would be. He forgets about his hesitations or questions.

Nothing is weird and nothing is wrong.

A familiar scent breaks through the gore that stops him in his tracks. Your scent. Your blood.

You’re bleeding.

Like a hound, his head whips in your direction. He sees you across the battlefield, knocking a man to the ground. But one hand is pressed to your side, bright red visible even at this distance.

Shit, you’re further from him than he realizes and he has to scramble over a few boulders to be able to close the distance. His sharp eyes catch movement in the trees, and before he even has a chance to grab his bow, the hidden archer takes aim.

Everything happens so fast.

The arrow fires, Astarion eyes land on you, knows you don’t see it and as he raises his hand towards you, has your name on his lips—

Your hand snaps up, catching the arrow an inch before it hits your temple. With a glare, you look up at the archer, swing around, and throw the arrow right back at him.

Astarion watches the archer fall from the branches, landing in a heap on the ground.

Dead.

You grin in Astarion’s direction, face smattered with blood and he wants nothing more than to fuck you on top of that corpse. But then you stumble and concern takes over. If you fall in battle then he’s shit out of luck and he can’t let that happen.

“Whoa now, none of that!” he scolds, rushing to your side to catch you. “Where the Hells is that cleric when we need her?”

“Did you see me catch that arrow?” you slur, grinning. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Yes, yes, it was very hot, now hold still, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Even better, gives you a free meal.”

It’s Astarion’s turn to roll his eyes as he helps you lean against a tree for support. “I prefer the more intimate approach we’ve established.”

Once he’s sure you’re not going to collapse, he digs through his pack for a healing potion.

“Shame to let all this blood go to waste but to each his own,” you say.

He uncorks the potion with his teeth and holds the bottle up for you to drink. It’s not until it’s empty that he allows himself to calm down. You slowly remove your hand and the two of you watch the wound start to close. Not all the way, you’ll need Shadowheart for that, but enough to stop the bleeding.

Astarion spits the cork aside and throws the empty bottle. “There, almost good as new. Maybe don’t get stabbed again.”

“There go the rest of my plans for the day.”

“Lunatic.”

Something comes over him, making him grab the back of your head and yank you into a kiss, too wrapped up in his bullshit to overthink or consider his actions. With one arm around his waist, you kiss him back and it’s sloppy and messy and everything he needs it to be.

Nothing happened. You didn’t die and you’re still able to be seduced. Good.

When you draw back, gasping for breath, he grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly sucks your fingers into his mouth, one by one, swirling his tongue around the digits to gather every drop of blood he can. You’re right. It seems silly to let it go to waste.

Your pupils dilate, your breath coming through your lips in a rush as you watch, transfixed.

He doesn’t need the tadpole to know what you’re thinking, or imagining. It’s a precursor to what he plans to do to you later. But with your thighs squeezing his head as he brings you over the edge.

Astarion releases your finger with a pop and a smirk. You lean in to steal another kiss when you’re stopped by the heavy thud of Karlach’s footsteps. You just manage to pull back when she bursts through the foliage.

“You guys alright?” she asks, also splattered with blood. “We just got jumped by some assholes.”

Astarion gestures to the bodies littered at your feet. “Welcome to the fucking club.”

“Where’s Shadowheart?” you ask.

“Right here,” Shadowheart speaks up, approaching from a different direction. “One tried to run away but I took care of it. Shit, are you bleeding?”

“Not anymore, thanks to me,” Astarion says.

When you wince and stumble towards her, Shadowheart catches you. Her hand glows with radiant light as she casts a healing spell.

“Easy there, soldier!” Karlach says. “You stay put. We’ll deal with these.” She gestures to the bodies, where Astarion is already digging through the pockets.

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to let good gold go to waste, and definitely not because you two were interrupted. Not because being close and alone with you makes his head spin. Not because he doesn’t know why he kissed you like that. And certainly not because the brief taste of blood is threatening to send him into a frenzy.

By the time the bodies are searched, Shadowheart is done with her healing and you’re able to stand up straight.

“Let’s get back and tell the others,” you say. “With these guys gone, we should be good to keep our camp for one more night. But tomorrow we have to move on.”

Astarion is starting to feel peckish and welcomes the chance to be alone. “I’ll do a little scouting to check for stragglers,” he offers, tossing you the heavy bag of coin he collected. “You know, make sure there isn’t anything lurking before dark.”

“You sure? You really shouldn’t go alone,” you say.

He’s already headed in the opposite direction and turns to face you as he walks backward. “If they hear me, they deserve to catch me. You don’t need to worry, darling. I won’t be late for our date.”

Your cheeks darken and he watches Karlach break into a wide grin while Shadowheart raises her eyebrows. He’s already gone by the time they bombard you with questions.

That moment you two just shared plays over and over in his head. With the taste of your blood still on his tongue, he gives into baser instincts.

Tonight, he will fuck you, and you’ll be so enthralled by his talents, he’ll have you eating out of his hand in no time.

Astarion’s mission turns up no more cultists. And after a brief tussle with a boar, he’s recharged and ready to seduce the pants off you.

Literally.

Night has already begun to fall when he returns to camp. At first, he doesn’t see you anywhere, but then you emerge from the brush, in a clean tunic and trousers with your freshly washed clothes under your arm.

He sneaks up behind you as you lay them out on a nearby patch of grass to dry.

“If you waited we could have had a little dip together,” he purrs, only half teasing because bathing naked with you sounds enticing right now.

“That wasn’t funny,” you glare over your shoulder, although he doesn’t sense or see any real malice on your face. “They gave me shit the whole way back.”

“I’m fairly certain they knew something has been going on. You haven’t exactly been hiding the mark.”

You tug on your collar in a vain attempt to do just that. “Still.” You turn to face him and cross your arms, a neutral stance that conveniently highlights the muscles in your arms. Not that he notices.

“Darling,” he gasps, “are you ashamed of me?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like people knowing my shit.”

Astarion glances around and can see multiple pairs of eyes on you both. So rather than close the distance, he settles for eye-fucking you instead.

“Tonight, all you need to worry about is relaxing and letting me take care of you. Thoroughly. Properly. Until the only thought in that pretty little head of yours is my name.”

Even from this distance, he hears the rush of your blood and it makes him grin wider. You shake said pretty head at him, turning away under the pretense of fixing your clothes.

“So long as you bathe beforehand. Blood may be your thing, but it’s not mine.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

He’s got you flustered and can’t help laughing as you shoo him away. After a brief stop at his tent for fresh clothes and soap, he finds a secluded spot by the nearby lake and takes time to pamper himself.

This part of the seduction ritual he likes, finds comfort in. Washing away the grime and viscera from his skin and taking the time to wash his hair puts him in the proper mindset. While he can no longer see his reflection, you can and that’s all that matters. He knows his looks are unparalleled.

So he primps and preens, cleans himself thoroughly before stepping out to dry off. The full moon casts the world in an otherworldly glow and he stands for a spell, taking in the night. Less than a week ago he was scrambling for rats in the dark, trying to sate the ever gnawing hunger. Now he can stand in the sun, sample the delicious blood of a thinking creature.

What a difference a few days makes.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep inhale to steady himself, to focus. And by the time he exhales, his eyes are open and he’s ready.

Camp is still very much buzzing with activity when he returns, bare-chested with loose trousers. Your scent wafts his way, making him subconsciously turn in your direction. His eyes meet yours over the fire, and he throws you a wink. You smile and duck your head, something he never found endearing until that moment.

Just like all the other nights, he waits for the activity to die down, waits until almost everyone is asleep, before sneaking into your tent.

Except, this time you’re awake. Your back is to him as you sit, still and silent. At first, he wonders what you’re doing, until he recognizes the steady breathing that comes with your meditations.

Silently, he ties the tent closed before kneeling behind you. He sees your pointed ear twitch, knows you’re aware of his presence.

Astarion lays his hands on your shoulders and leans down to nuzzle your temple. Your body is tense. He can feel the knots even through your tunic. Carefully, he digs his thumbs into them, rubbing in circles which forces a soft moan out of you.

“You are far too tense, darling. I don’t think the meditations are working,” he says with a low chuckle, smirking at the way the skin of your neck raises with goosebumps.

You lean back against his chest, making it harder to keep massaging you. So he slides his hands down your arms to hold you instead.

Astarion isn’t one for hugging or cuddling, but this feels nice, having your weight on him like this. It only lasts a second. You lean forward once more, this time with your face in your hands. He lays a hand on your back, recognizing that you need a minute, and more than happy to give you such.

He feels slightly out of his element. Normally when he arrives for the seduction, it’s hasty and eager, with the mark throwing themselves at him. You aren’t doing that, you haven’t even turned around to face him.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you tell him, your voice muffled. “If you’re looking for something carefree and light, I’m sure you can find someone with less baggage.”

Astarion can’t help bursting into laughter. He pulls your arms down and leans around to look you in the eye. “Have we been traveling with the same companions?” he asks. “If you can find this mythical baggage-less person then I salute you because from where I’m sitting, we’re all a bunch of fucking weirdos.”

That breaks the tension in you. Laughing, you lean into him again and he savors the closeness, recognizing that it stirs that same unknown sensation within him. He kisses your neck not only to move things along but for another reason.

Yours is the first thinking-creature’s neck he’s ever sampled and the novelty is fairly potent. He’s left his mark on you, not once but several times. It’s enough to drive him to distraction. The scent of your skin causes his body to react, his mouth already salivating while his cock twitches with interest.

Astarion finds you relaxing while the time slips away, and it isn’t long before his hands are reaching for the laces of your tunic. He unties them with deliberate slowness, giving you every chance to stop him.

You don’t.

In fact, your hands join his to help, and when they are finally undone, you draw away to lift the tunic over your head.

Now you’re both shirtless and when your warm skin touches his it’s like a pleasant balm to his cold flesh. He continues lavishing your throat while his hands cup your breasts, thrilled at the way your nipples pebble under his thumbs. He kneads and tweaks, pinching until just on the edge of pain before backing off.

“Astarion?” you ask, voice already breathless and husky with desire.

“Mmm, yes?”

“If we do this, I only have one request.”

He’s not surprised at this, even anticipated as such. There’s always a request or demand of him and he will dutifully oblige. Anything to keep this going, to seal the deal.

“And what’s that, darling?”

“Stay with me after? At least, just for the night.”

That…is it?

Astarion draws away, prompting you to turn to face him. Your eyes are hooded, lips wet from being swiped by your tongue. But there is a vulnerability he has never seen before that has him answering immediately.

“I will stay,” he promises, and means it. “For tonight, I am yours and you are mine. Nothing else outside this tent exists. It’s just us.” He gently cradles your face. “Just this.”

You lean in and he captures your lips.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, meant to reassure you that your humble request will be fulfilled. But as it continues, it switches, changes into something else entirely. One of his hands drops to your trousers, yanking at the laces with the same fevered energy that’s taken over your mouths. He is suddenly filled with the urge to touch, to make you shudder and moan not for his sake, but for yours.

Astarion sees in his mind’s eye every choice, every decision you have had to make. Always for others and never for yourself. Hells, do you do anything for your own well-being?

He hasn’t seen it. And if this night with him is it, if being with him is how you want to indulge, he’s going to make damn sure he makes it worth it.

When his hand slips below your waistline, his fingers slide through the mound of curls to the petal-soft flesh waiting for him. Feeling the wetness on his fingertips makes his eyebrow raise as he breaks from your kisses.

“Already, darling? I’m flattered.”

You huff, flustered. “It’s my neck,” you mumble, prompting him to latch his mouth there once more. “It’s really sensitive.”

You gasp when his fingertips stroke through your folds, spreading your arousal with practiced ease.

Astarion has a realization. “All these nights, when you knew I was going to be paying you a visit,” he says. “Did you by any chance feel aroused?”

“Every fucking time.”

He slides a finger into you, relishing the low moan and how eagerly your body pulls him in. That explains the intense hard-ons and need to get off immediately after feeding on you. He was unknowingly drinking your arousal, which he plans to do in a very different context tonight.

You’re warm and wet, and the sound of your rushing blood is making it so difficult not to seek his—your marks. The ones he feeds from every time, the ones that never seem to fully fade even with healing magic.

Sliding his finger out, he presses firm circles around your neglected nub while his free hand reaches for your breasts again. Your chest heaves and your hips begin to rise and fall along with his ministrations. When he pushes two fingers into you, your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“Astarion!” you gasp.

“That’s it, darling. Let go of everything else. Just think about me.”

In this intimate moment, he becomes acutely aware of two things: one, his name has never sounded sweeter, and two, this is going to be different for him.

Astarion doesn’t find himself slipping away like he’s done in the past. Prior, his body would go on following the script while his brain retreated elsewhere. It was a part he knew all too well and had perfected over the centuries. A moment of disgust at himself then powering through just to get it done.

Yet, it’s not happening. Tonight, he is very aware of where he is and who he is with. Somehow having you be the one to moan his name is keeping him grounded, in the moment.

And he doesn’t want to lose that.

His fingers speed up, alternating between rubbing your nub and burrowing deep into that addictive warmth he wants around his cock. You’re gasping and moaning, seemingly uncaring if anyone hears.

Let them hear, he thinks. Let them know I’m the one making our fearless leader cum.

Suddenly, this angle isn’t right. It won’t serve his needs.

Because now that he’s aware of them, aware that he needs your body, needs your little gasps and moans, he won’t stop until you’re both in a breathless, mindless heap of body and limbs.

Astarion tries to draw his hand out of your trousers but you scramble to keep it there, until he nips at your ear and says, “Shh, shh, it’s alright. We just need to get a little comfortable.” Only then do you let him pull away.

He maneuvers you onto your back and is able to fully take in the delicious image you make. Eyes glassy with desire, lips parted, breasts moving as you try to catch your breath. Without warning, he grabs your throat, not hard. Just enough to angle your head up so he can steal a few more kisses.

Then his attention falls to your trousers and he has them off your legs a second later. You’re not wearing underwear, never bothered to put them on after your bath. Hooking his hands under your knees, he spreads you wide, takes his first look at all of you, and promptly descends.

Astarion doesn’t try to put on a show or warm you up with a few practiced licks. You are more than ready for him and he finds himself starved in a completely different way.

A welcomed way.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks greedily, humming with satisfaction when your thighs clamp around his head. It keeps him exactly where you want him, not that he plans to leave any time soon.

This taste of you is so different from your blood yet equally addicting. Heady and sweet, invading his senses until nothing else exists but you. His tongue snakes long your seam, parts your swollen lips, and seeks the hole he teased earlier.

When he finds it, your hips shoot up and he tongue-fucks you, eyes drifting up to meet yours as he does.

You’re propped on your elbows, watching his every move. The vision you make is breathtaking and as he watches your head fall back and your arms buckle, he smirks because he is the one making you feel this way.

Astarion slides a finger into you, this time deeper than the other angle allowed. Your thighs are already quivering and the moment he crooks his finger in just the right way, your arms finally give out and you lay flat on your back.

Hands tentatively find their way into his curls but instead of pulling like he anticipates, they stroke and burrow, holding on for the sake of staying grounded, not for control.

A second finger joins the first and his mouth returns to your aching nub, sucking as greedily as he wants. You’re shaking and moaning, your hips starting to grind against his face the longer he goes on. With the tadpole, he can sense you’re still holding back, still not entirely lost yet. He tries to get you there, increases the pressure of his mouth, and rubs harder against the special place inside you he’s found.

With every twitch, he feels you let go a little more. And when you’re almost there, he switches tactics. For the second time, he reaches for your mind, tries to show you images. This time of yourself, of what he is seeing right then and there.

A beautiful, wanton, deity of a person whom he worships. At least for right now, in this moment. One whose legs fit perfectly over his shoulders and whose shining eyes have him transfixed.

But then what happens next fundamentally changes Astarion and turns his world upside down.

Because, now he isn’t seeing you. He is watching a pale elf with glowing red eyes whose mouth is devouring your slit. Whose cheeks are ruddy with fresh boar’s blood and whose white curls are wrapped around dark fingers.

Astarion is seeing himself for the first time in two hundred years.

And bloody hell he’s magnificent. Not just because he’s beautiful but because he can feel what you’re feeling when you look at him. He can sense the warmth, affection, lust, and fierce protection you’re experiencing here and now, with him.

He’s already achieved his goal. Now he can move on to more important things.

He draws an orgasm out of you only minutes later, not needing you to beg. Not when you’ve given him yet another precious gift.

What a breathtaking sight the two of you make. You, bowing your back into a beautiful arch, and him, sucking greedily at your clit while his fingers stroke deep inside you.

Astarion comes up for air only when your sweaty legs glide off his shoulders, leaving you spread and satisfied.

“How’s that mind of yours now?” he asks, licking your slick off his lips.

It takes a moment for you to answer. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” you gasp, a hand pressed to your forehead as you try to collect yourself.

Astarion smirks and pushes himself up onto his knees, carefully slipping his fingers out of you. He can feel your walls clench, automatically trying to keep him there. He’s tempted but has a better idea.

“I told you, I’m quite good.”

While you lay there, watching, waiting, he makes a show of unlacing his trousers. By now his cock is desperate for attention, straining against the fabric. Each move he makes is purposeful, each look calculated, letting you know exactly what he plans to do next.

He thinks of the previous nights when he crawled into your tent and slid up behind you. And once his trousers are gone and his cock is free, full and leaking at the tip, he nods his head.

“Turn on your side, darling.”

He strokes himself while you do, using your arousal to make the glide of his hand easier, better. He lets every lustful thought invade his senses, lets his eyes shamelessly rake over your body as he realizes this is a fantasy he will get to live out.

Astarion knows this night is about you, should be about you, but he can’t help but feel that it’s now also about him. About having something, even if it’s for a night, that gets to be his.

He spoons up behind you, tucking his cock snug under your backside. His hand comes around and slides between your legs once more, picking up right where he left off. You gasp at the sensitivity, your body tensing for only a second until you manage to relax again.

This time with the added bonus of you rocking against him.

Time loses all meaning. He can not be certain how long you both lay this way, grinding and moving together while his fingers make you cum for a second time. It takes longer but absolutely worth every moment. His mouth is permanently attached to your throat lavishing it in kisses and love bites, leaving even more marks. Not as deep as the mark. He'll only drink from you once he’s good and ready.

And when neither of you can take it anymore, when the friction of your skin isn’t enough and you’re positively soaked, he whispers into your ear.

“Lift your leg.”

You do and he takes hold of himself, coats himself in your slick again, then pushes into you with a smooth, quick, thrust.

A perfect fit.

Being inside you, having his cock enveloped by that fucking heat is better than he would have ever thought. After that, he can’t take his time, won’t until he’s emptied every last drop into you.

Your moans are constant, muffled as you bury your face into your thin pillow, your hand twisting the bedroll, reminding him of how he twisted the soil when he had his first taste of you.

Taste.

Gods does he want to taste you again, drink you as he continues pounding into your eager body. As if struck by the same thought, you reach back to slide your hand into his curls.

“Bite me,” you urge. “I need you too. I can’t…”

He hears the rest of the thought in his head.

I can’t cum again if you don’t.

Astarion bites down on the mark, having half a mind to press down on your swollen nub at the same time. You cry out this time. Loudly. Properly. Not his name yet even more beautiful, a cry of pure ecstasy.

Your blood seeps into his mouth just as a fresh wave of your slick coats his cock, and he is done for.

Thrusting wildly, still rubbing your sore clit, Astarion spills himself into you, lost in a frenzy of blood and lust. He’s aware enough to yank out his fangs but after that, it's a blur as he sucks at your throat while his cock spasms and fills you with his seed.

It's too much and coats his lap and your thighs while trickles of blood dribble down your neck. He’s aware of you pushing his hand away from the overstimulation. So he grabs your hip for leverage during his final, weak thrusts. Spent, you both cry out a final time and then grow still.

Eventually, you roll onto your stomach while Astarion collapses onto your back, crushing you against the bedroll.

You don’t seem to mind in the slightest, letting him lazily lick away any remnants of blood. Only then do you hum with satisfaction stretching underneath him as much as the position will allow.

“Fuck, Astarion.”

“That you did, love. That. You. Did.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss or a nibble.

“You were right,” you purr, sounding infinitely more relaxed than he’s ever heard. “I needed that.”

He places a final kiss to the mark before rolling onto his back. “Mmm, me too.” He tucks his hand under his head, staring up at the canvas of the tent with a lazy, satisfied grin. Like a cat who’s just found a sunbeam.

You roll to face him, draping yourself across his chest in a graceless heap. Your face is glowing with post-coital bliss, eyes still shining as they take him in. You reach up to wipe away a spot of blood from the corner of his lips, which he sucks off your thumb.

Astarion is aware you both should clean up but he can’t bring it in himself to care. Your scent hangs around him, not just your blood but your arousal and release. When mixed with his own, it stirs something primal inside, a sense of claim he’s not sure he has a right to feel.

But he’s far too satisfied to question it.

“That was amazing,” you slur. Already your eyes are drooping and your breathing evens out.

Astarion draws you close, feels around for a blanket he manages to drape over you both. “You’re amazing,” he responds, and is surprised he means it.

Even he is ready to trance, the normal rush of adrenaline after feeding is gone, channeled into the thrusting of his hips during those last precious seconds before utter bliss.

For once, no thoughts or machinations enter his mind. Unless it’s your soft body atop his, he has no interest, lazily stroking your back until you fall asleep.

And as he lets his trance carry him away, he has one final thought, an observation his waking mind will remember vividly the next morning when he finds you in the same position, curled around each other even in sleep.

Having you in his arms seems to be another perfect fit.

---

Taglist: @frankie-mercury @miniminx

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x you

609 notes · View notes

reythenerdypisces · 3 months

Text

things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 2: Sea of Monsters

there is a lot this time.

this book is so short and it makes up for the length by being hilarious:

I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death - plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.

Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. Chiron turned looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

"Um..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about it? Nobody answered. "Right," I muttered. "Just checking."

"Uh, I like Hercules." "Why?" "Well, because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

Annabeth looked at me. "We have to get out of here." "You think I want to be in the girls' restroom?" "I mean the ship, Percy! We have to get off the ship."

Tyson was terrified of them. All throughout the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn't look too thrilled about.

"Then why do the gods even let me live? It would be safer to kill me." "You're right." "Thanks a lot."

A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.

As Luke was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool. and a few moments later: He [Luke] raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deck chair. Luke can't catch a break from those boxing arrows, it's the funniest thing

2. also so much baby percabeth!! they’re so cute

She'd [Annabeth] emailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been in my imagination. the fact that he printed out Annabeth's photo?

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat, "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend." her standing up for Percy is adorable

I mean she [Annabeth] looked good. Really good. I probably would've been tongue-tied if I could say anything except reet, reet, reet.

She [Annabeth] started to sob - I mean horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her. Fish gathered to look at us - a school of barracudas, some curious marlins. Scram! I told them. They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear I understood their intentions. They were about to start rumours flying around the sea about the son of Poseidon and some girl at the bottom of Siren Bay. number 1. the way percy is always there for her, number 2. the gossiping fish?? I love it

The look in his [Grover] eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened -he’s admirably protective, of not just annabeth, but all his friends and I love to see it… exhibit b:

"But if I [Grover] get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Percy! You could die!" "If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again G-man. I wouldn't have it any other way." I adore their friendship.

3. other mentions:

"I'm Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus." what. an. ending. I still remember how floored I was when I first read this wow

the mention of Hylla got me so excited

am I the only one who forgot Percy could control the sailboat? like the flying ropes and whatnot

I also completely forgot about his watch shield!

I'll be back for part 3 shortly! :)

#sea of monsters #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #rick riordan #percabeth #annabeth chase #grover underwood

169 notes · View notes

imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

Note

How about 17 and 46 with Rex??? Only if u want to!!!

Hello gorgeous @skyofnostars,

You're so sweet. Of course, I want to.

I hope you'll enjoy this one. I was debating on which way I wanted this to go, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Also the story got away from me, so enjoy the 1400 words.

Love oo,

The Kiss

Warnings: Angst, kissing, drunken state, loss of life, Krell era, comfort, misunderstanding, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Rex sat in his office going over several datapads reviewing the reports from several Majors, Lieutenants and Sergeants, each discussing from their own point of view how the battle progressed. Technically, some of this should’ve been handled by the General, but right now … they had to deal with General Krell, and he wasn’t going to let his man have to put up with anymore of his tyrannical way of thinking.

His eyes looked over the list of soldiers that had been lost from Krell’s last battle plan, his heart tightening with each name, each brother now gone. Simply because that Jedi … no, he’s no Jedi. He’s a monster. A vile excuse for a man who was currently in charge, at least until General Skywalker came back.

The Captain rolled his neck side to side, closing his eyes, trying to silence the anger and frustration that had grown within him. Why did General Skywalker have to be called away now? No, why did they have to be stuck with a General that clearly didn’t care about his troops.

You slowly made your way to Rex’s office, you were dreading having to face Rex, not only did you have to turn in your own report, but on top of all the other issues between you and Rex right now, you were going to have to apologize for your actions on the field. Krell pushed your buttons and you lashed out at him, well not just Krell, but also at Rex, it wasn’t Rex’s fault, you knew that; but it was all too much. Then to make matters worse he was the one who saved you, when you were getting ready to punch Krell.

He stood in front of you, dressing you down in front of the General. Telling you to learn your place. You knew he did it, so the General wouldn’t have an excuse to step in; it was embarrassing and awful, but he did save you; saved you from a court martial or worse, at least.

Maker, why was it so hard to be around him, now?

For a long time Rex and you were friends. It was an almost instantaneous friendship from the moment you two met. Then one night, one stupid drunken night at 79s you accidentally kissed him, which simultaneously sobered you up and ruined the friendship you both had.

After that night Rex kept his distance, the first real conversation you had with him was when you were yelling at him and General Krell, and he yelled back at you. Which wasn’t even a conversation, really.

Yet, now there were no more options left, as much as he wanted to avoid you, he’d have no option but to talk to you. Especially, since you had concerns about Krell.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

A moment was all you needed as you steadied your breath, before walking in. You stood at attention, waiting for Rex to acknowledge your presence.

He took a second to calm his nerves, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Lieutenant.”

“Captain, I’m here to give you my report.”

You held out the datapad to him, your heart aching, missing the camaraderie you both had once enjoyed. You missed it all, the joking, the laughing, the subtle flirting from your end, it had all stopped after that kiss.

He drew a clear line between you two and that was all there was to it.

“You can just leave it on the desk,” he focused his attention back on the report in front of him.

He wanted to look at you, he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t deserve that. Especially, since when you drunkenly kissed him, it had been the most perfect kiss he ever imagined he could’ve had with you. He enjoyed the feel of your lips on his, the warmth from your breath gently washing over his skin, the weight of you in his arms, the way you made him feel, it was everything he could’ve possibly wanted. It was then he realized how much he cared for you. How much he wanted something more with you, but that wasn’t possible.

He felt as though he’d abused your kindness, your friendship. He felt ashamed to be near you.

You let out a sigh as you looked at him, “Will you ever look me in the eyes again?”

Rex didn’t have it within himself to answer you, much less to look at you.

You’d done this, you’d ruined your friendship. If you hadn’t been so drunk that night, if you hadn’t pushed the limits of your friendship none of this would be happening.

“I’m sorry.” You started, “I’m sorry for overstepping that night and kissing you,” Rex lifted his eyes to look at you, his heart tightened when he heard you regretted kissing him. His eyes took in all your features, studying each section of your face. Maker, how he missed your face, missed you. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me with Krell. I know I really put my foot in it and if it wasn’t for you stepping in and covering over what I said or was about to do …”

“Well you always manage to make my life interesting,” he smirked as he looked at you, “I’m just glad I stopped you off before you actually hit him. Truthfully, I didn’t want him to demote you or kick you out of the GAR, so I went a bit extra.”

“It’s fine, and you know, even if he didn’t react at that moment, I have a feeling he’s going to get back at me, one way or another. He may be a Jedi, but I think even he would think twice before going against someone related to one of the Republic Senators.”

“I highly doubt that would’ve phased him.”

“Probably not.” You smiled as you looked at him, “I am sorry about everything. I’m sorry I ruined our friendship that night and … I know you don’t feel comfortable around me …”

“Wait,” Rex held up his hand, “Do you think I’m avoiding you because … I’m mad at you or something?”

“Aren’t you?”

Rex closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his face, “No.” He stood from his seat and walked over to you. As he looked into your eyes, he felt his heart start to beat faster, he slowly reached up his hand gently caressing your cheek. “Cyar’ika, the reason I was avoiding you was because … if I didn’t I would’ve overstepped. The moment you kissed me, I realized I was in love with you. I’ve been in love with you this whole time. This entire time, I’d been taking advantage of your kindness and sincerity, just so I could get close to you. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same way, if you regret kissing me, but I want you to know, I love you.”

“You love me?”

“I have. I do. For a long time.”

You closed your eyes, your smile reaching all the way to your ears as you leaned into his hand, holding his hand against your cheek. “Look at you, showing some actual good taste. I’m almost impressed.” You laughed, as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him, “Rex, I’ve loved you from the moment we met. Maybe I didn’t realize it was love at first, but now looking back … it’s the only thing that makes sense. I love you, and truthfully, I don’t regret kissing you. I regretted the fact it pushed us apart.”

His lips gently pressed against your forehead, his other hand moved to the back of your head holding you close, “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I should’ve talked to you instead of making decisions on both of our behalf.”

“It’s okay” your hands went to his waist and pulled him closer. “You’re here now.” You opened your eyes, pulling away slightly to look at him, “What are we going to do about Krell? I don’t trust him. If this continues you won’t have any brothers left, and not to mention …”

“Shhhh” he pressed another kiss to your forehead, cutting you off, “I know, cyar’ika. I know.” Rex pulled you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “Right now, though. I just want to hold you in my arms and not worry about him. At least for a little bit.”

You didn’t fight him on it, you simply nodded, wrapping your arms around his torso as you pulled him in closer. There was time to deal with Krell, at least that’s what you hoped.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

141 notes · View notes

thetravelingtyper · 2 months

Text

Our Shattered Heart Interlude (Part 2.50) JP (GN! 'Heart' Reader x Taskforce 141)

Loading Track 2 - Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight) by Abba (Johnathan Price One Shot). Called to base to finish up paperwork, you and your Captain spend some time together.

Warning: Possible OOC, Suggestive Content, fluff

Part 1, Part 2, Part 2.25, Part 2.75 Masterlist

Half-past twelve

And I'm watching the late show in my flat all alone

How I hate to spend the evening on my own

Autumn winds

Blowing outside the window as I look around the room

And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom

It was dark on base by the time you got there. Price had called you to base to discuss some things with Laswell, trying to close up the intel work before you got back into missions. In common clothes, you padded into the rec room. The few people who were awake gave you nods and then went back to their activities. You felt good being back on base, even if it was just for the night.

You made it to your room around 11:00 pm. Johnny and Kyle had wanted to come back to base with you but Simon pulled them into intel work. You smile, you and Simon had fallen asleep in your bed and the man for once slept heavily, past your 9 am alarm and through your call with Price.

There's not a soul out there

No one to hear my prayer

Soft words passed his mouth every once in a while causing you to giggle quietly. Price questioned you.

“Simon is asleep John.” The man on the other side of the phone chuckled, he turned in his work to lean back against his chair. He was happy he realized then. With you, his Lieutenant, Laswell for assigning this mission, hell even the intel for a moment. Your rushing out that night just cemented the boys' attachment to and claim of your heart.

“That's good, can you come to base tonight love? I want to finish up some work with you here.”

You hum an affirmative and John lets you go, waiting eagerly for you to arrive.

You are sorting through stuff when there is a knock at your door. You open it to find a Corporal, a woman a little younger than you, who had served a few missions under your command. She holds a bouquet with a Welcome Back! Ribbon and a bag. You cock your head but she gives you a hesitant smile before offering you the flowers. You then smile and step aside, inviting her in.

“Corporal Jennings.”

She eyes your room in wonder, knives (clearly) from the famous lieutenant are embedded in a target board. There are other souvenirs from your service both in America and with the 141. Truth be told, she thought you were one of the favorite Sergeants on base. When she heard about your injury she was worried but word got out you were returning soon, her friend had sent a message that night that Heart had returned so she was quick to bring something.

You go to your joined bathroom with Gaz and fill a vase with water. Returning, you find Jennings waiting by the table nervously. You nod to her to sit down.

“I don’t bite Corporal, I promise.” At that she exhales with a stuttered laugh, the tension finally draining from her body. You set the flowers at the center of the table, you take a seat across from her, and speak.

“How can I help you, Jennings?”

“You can call me Amanda, Sergeant,” she says “if you like!” You nod to her. You are happy she is comfortable with you. You enforce command when leading troops but comradery is important to you.

“Have you eaten?” She asks then. You shake your head and she excitedly pulls out some food. The smell emanates throughout the room and you take it in. There is a subtle spice that has your mouth watering.

“I heard you might be back today so I made some curry. I remembered you ordering some after the last mission.” She says it shyly and offers you one of two containers. You nod a smile quirking on your face as you take the container opening it to find a generous portion of rice and homemade curry.

She opens her own and offers you a spoon which you take with a hearty thanks. You take a bite and are in heaven. You hum a delightful note and Amanda smiles, her eyes brightening in a way. You smiled, she was really pretty but you shook the thought from your head.

“This is wonderful!”

“It is my wife’s recipe!”

You look at her nodding your pleasure.

“She's lucky to have you.” You say. It reminded you of Kyle’s cooking. The man often would cook for the five of you on missions.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

She smiles brightly at the statement. She seems to think a moment before nodding.

“Thanks to you! The first mission I ran under you when you first came she and I met. It was you who partnered us together!”

You thought for a moment then it hit you! On that mission, you had paired Amanda with a dark-haired woman named Corporal Smith. The two had been eyeing each other and when they talked they got along swimmingly. You return her smile.

“I remember.” You say and she nods.

“It's been a few months and I have never been happier.” She says with a fond sigh, hand reaching to her dog tags to show you a silver and gold ring. You nod in appreciation and congratulate her.

Movie stars

Find the end of the rainbow with a fortune to win

It's so different from the world I'm living in

Tired of TV

I open the window and I gaze into the night

But there's nothing there to see, no one in sight

You spend most of the following hour just talking and enjoying her company. But as 12 soon hits she yawns and you pause the conversation.

“Time for bed?” You ask humor lacing your voice.

Amanda nods, collecting the empty container before standing. She gives another glance around your room, then sees a photo of you and the 141. She approaches it and examines it with a soft, knowing look. She then turns to you with that look.

“You and them huh?” She smiles, eyebrows raising in suggestion while you are put on the spot. However surprised, you don't sense anything but acceptance from her and you smile.

“Something like that.” Is all you manage while she nods.

“I understand, I am happy for you Sergeant!” She says it then turns to the door. You walk her to the door of your room and offer her a side hug. She takes it happily before opening the door and leaving with a fond ‘good night Sergeant.’

There's not a soul out there

No one to hear my prayer

You stretch, wondering where your captain was, he had mentioned getting you. You admire the flowers. Sunflowers, a sign of loyalty, and yellow roses, meaning friendship. The smell of them is sweet as you take a sunflower and lay down in bed staring at the ceiling.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

You hadn’t realized you'd dozed off until there was a knock at your door. You open your eyes, slip out of bed, and to the door, sunflower still in hand. You open the door to find Price. You open the door and step aside for him to enter but he just stares down at your hand, eyes tracing the golden orange hue of the sunflower. His eyes then scan your room, seeing the chairs moved and the bouquet.

Your eyes follow his and there is a sudden pit in your stomach when he wordlessly steps in and closes your door. He then looks down at you, eyes swirling. You reach for him but he grabs your hand instead, his other gently going to the small of your back to pull you closer. He leans into your ear.

“Who was here.” His voice is even, quiet. He wasn't happy but his feelings were more controlled than Simon's. You tuck your head against his chest and answer him.

“Corporal Jennings John, don’t worry she is married.” You look up to him, he holds you close for a second longer before pulling away. His fingers take the sunflower, eyes looking from it to you. He then walks over to the table returning the flower to the others. He then turns back to you.

“Can you work tonight or do we need to sleep.” He asks eyes taking in your room. You shake your head, a little shy with him in your room.

“I can work tonight.”

He nods and then notices your bag. He reaches for and shoulders it.

“Come on dear.”

He leads you out of the room, softly shutting your door and passing down the hall. You walk in comfortable silence before reaching his office. He unlocks the door and allows you to enter the familiar space. Locking the door behind him he offers you his shower. You nod and enter the connected bedroom.

Captain Price’s room is neat, expectidly, and like yours, there are little bits of him scattered around. You drop your guard here smiling at the photos of you and the others next to his bed. He enters after you, setting your stuff on the couch at the other end of the room. He then noticed you in Simon’s shirt. You had taken one and tied it up after Simon and the boys left, finding the cotton and smell of him comforting. You approach your bag and ruffle through your stuff, grabbing a toiletries bag and letting John show you the bathroom.

As you shower John takes a seat in his office. His eyes catch the transfer forms and he frowns something rearing in his chest.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

John sat with a glass of Brandy as Simon lounged in a chair across from him. You, Gaz, and Soap were back at the apartment running sources while Ghost slipped away to tackle the real threat, your transfer.

Laswell had put him in contact with someone in America Marine intelligence, where your intel was being shared. The man had regarded Price with high honor after all the 141 had done.

“What can I do for you, Captain.” John stands, and Simon, looks up, unmasked.

“Please call me John. It’s about Sergeant Heart.”

The line goes quiet then he gives an affirmative, listening.

“I want them to remain on the task force,” John says like an order and the line is quiet.

“Their intel has been invaluable but the orders are coming from higher up than I can reach.”

John grits his teeth. The other man seems to sense it and returns with a quick,

“I understand, Laswell explained the situation, John. She has saved my ass so many times, I will see what I can do. I’ll be in touch.” With that the line ends and John’s tense shoulders draw back a little bit.

Simon stands up and rounds the desk, he pulls John in for a steady kiss. Parting Simon speaks,

“Have some faith in Laswell, Captain.”

Price’s thoughts are interrupted by you entering the office in shorts and a sleep shirt. His eyes take in your legs with a light. He shuffles the transfer form under the stack, eyes meeting yours. Your hair is wet and skin dewy from your skincare and the steam from the shower. He turns to some of the intel forms from the village and you both sit down and begin to work in silence.

There's not a soul out there

No one to hear my prayer

The clock reaches an early 4:23 am when John looks up from his work studying your focused face. He calls your name softly and you look up. The moment reminds you of other nights and you stand. You turn to the coffee machine and start to habitually make tea. The moment hits John then. When had he realized he loved you?

A moment like this, he thinks with a fond smile. He stands as you soon bring two glasses of Chamomile tea, his lightly sweetened like he likes it. He takes it from you but sets it and your glass aside. You cock your head at him but he takes you and turns you around to sit you on the desk. Your head comes up to about his shoulder and he then leans into you his hands bracing on either side of you.

You take in his face, between your wild night and now he had shaved. You run a hand over the remaining stubble and John’s eyes darken.

“I love you.” It is you who whispers it like a guarded secret and John's heart hammers in his chest.

“Love, I -” He hadn’t expected it, but steps between your legs and finally kisses you. The kiss is sweet, his hands reaching into your hair. You hook your arms around his neck deepening the kiss. You both part breathless before a soulful laugh leaves your lips and you tuck into John’s neck inhaling the smell of smoke and his cologne. Many late nights you wanted nothing more than to embrace him and now here you were.

His mind drifts back to the transfer and his hold on you tightens. He runs a hand down your body and over your leg, you rumble at the contact.

“Is this ok Love?” John asks as his right hand sits on your thigh, you nod against his chest, cherishing the contact. His hand spreads out engulfing your thigh and he holds himself up with his left.

“Pretty thing.” He mutters it into your shoulder, the sleep shirt exposes some of your neck and collarbone. John brushes a kiss there as you wrap your arms around him. He can almost feel your sleepiness as he chuckles.

“Come on Lovie.” His hands brace under your thighs before he gently lifts you and carries you against his chest into his bedroom. His ability to swipe you up does something to you, and you press an appreciative kiss to his neck. He groans, settling you down on the edge of the bed and kneeling in front of you. He fondly your jaw as you pull your head back. You look at him with half-lidded but mirthful eyes.

“See something you like.” His head turns down towards you a sharpish look in his eye. He is humored but aware of your effect on him.

“Watch it.” He warns half-heartedly, but you instead choose to trace your hand up the arms that hold yours feeling his muscle flex under your touch. He looks at you longingly and pulls back to stand up, your eyes following then widening as John removes his shirt. You take him in as he runs a hand through his hair. He wears his dog tags, the metal gleaming in the lamplight. But it is his form that catches your eye. Not unlike all of the men Price has muscle, abs etched into his skin but it is the body fat that has you sighing appreciatively. You run a hand to his chest as John’s eyes glitter in the low light. You want to drown in them.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

John’s control is legendary, with rage, sorrow, or jealousy. But the sight of you in his bed works its way through him and his heart. Your eyes softly on him he surges forward and meets your lips in a heated kiss. You move backward as he stands then joins you on the bed. His knee goes between your thighs as he traces open-mouthed kisses to the side of your mouth and down your jaw.

“John,” his name comes out as a whisper and it only fuels the fire in the pit of his stomach, he nips then at your jaw, smirking when you gasp underneath him. He parts from you with a breathy, deep laugh.

“Always imagined you ending up here.” You blush at his comment before a smart smirk, You wrap your arms around his neck and yank him down, and he stumbles falling onto your body. You press a heated kiss to his neck then bite, John curses under his breath. Arousal pooling, he feels you kiss the hollow of his neck tenderly before you tuck your head underneath his. John rolls you both over onto your sides. He pulls the covers up and wraps an arm around you. You look up into his eyes to find him with the softest look you have ever seen from him.

He kisses the side of your head then murmurs into your ear,

“I love you too dear.”

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

End Track - Taglist:

@ghostlythots, @00ops1e, @rafaelacallinybbay, @iloveslasher, @character---obsessed

, @ashy-kit, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @my-amazing-nerdyness, @star-struck-universe, @br0ken-rec0rds

, @buckysjuicyplums, @cod-z

81 notes · View notes

alice-angel12x · 1 year

Text

Death isn't so scary

Lilia x Death! reader

(behold my amateur photoshop skills)

Lilia had lived a very long life, and had seen many things come and go. The world was constantly changing, spells, technology, and even fashion statements were different in a flash. Yet There was one thing, or one person who never changed, not even time could change them, other than the names they went by.

Lilia could remember clearly as day the first time they saw Y/n of Death. It was during the war between Humans and Fea. In one of the battles the humans faced a humiliating loss, and General Lilia and his army reviled in their victory. When he noticed a lone figure on the field. Draped in a dark cloak, with chains tied around the hip that two scythes dangled from their hip.

The young cocky warrior Lilia thought the figure was a single surviving human left. With a smirk, he decided to scare the life out of this human. So with his large jade buster blade, teleported above and tried to slam down on the figure.

Only for the figure to stop the blade with one of their scythes. Lilia struggled to force the sword down or break free from the entanglement. But the scythe's curved blade caught the silver vines that wrapped around Lilia's own. Yet the figure stood perfectly still as the continued to block the blade.

"Your quite strong for a mortal, where were you when your friends needed you," Lilia smirked as his allies gathered around.

"Your a bit late human," The general mocked, as the rest laughed.

"Do not laugh," The figure scoffed. " DO NOT BE PROUD OF THIS MASSACRE!!"

With one swift movement, the figure sent the small Fae troop flying.

________________________________________

I remember clearly when they warned us Fae that we greatly underestimate humans. And that they will be back for us soon. Of course in my youth I did not believe them.

Yet their promise would soon be fulfilled as the humans started getting stronger. I began to lose my friends and allies left and right, with that eerie whistle haunting me every step of the way.

Eventually, both sides came to a draw, much to Fae kinds Ego. The thought of even acknowledging humans disgusted them. I wasn't the same after the war. We Fae live for so long that we forget that ultimately we are all powerless to death.

One night, when I went out to mourn the loss of my allies. When I noticed a familiar figure in the distance. I silently approached as I watched them pay their respects to the fallen. I could even see the sparkle of tears run down their face as they placed a flower on each of the graves.

"I know your there, General Lilia. Congratulations on your promotion by the way," Death said simply, not even turning to face Me.

"What are you doing here, demon?" I glared as I clutched my fist.

"Still refuse to admit what I am. Why are all Fae like this?" Death said with an annoyed sigh.

"What! It is your fault that they are dead. You cut their lives short!" I shouted as I readied my weapon.

"My fault... MY FAULT!" Death shouted in rage as they knocked me off my feet, slamming me into a tree. "I never really understand why you fae were made this way. I told Life that giving them a millennium's worth of life, absurd."

"You Fae think because you live so long you are above everything. Even your queen brags how she is above death," Death growled as they reached for my blade. "You take things for granted and waste your time in this life, believing your hot $&@%."

I wanted to shout, scream that they were wrong. They were just cruel being that takes life as they, pleased. Memories of my loved ones flashed in my mind, only for the images to fash to their course in the mud. Suddenly my blade was logged into the tree next to my face.

"Pick it up," Death ordered, but... I couldn't everyone I love and care for... Are gone.

"Why did you spare me?" I asked hopelessly.

"Spare you... I did not spare you. Your skills and luck are what saved you. My job is simply to be there when mortal life is about to end," Death said as they stared into my soul. " Don't take anything in life for granted, no matter how fast and fleeting it may seem. And by the end of your life, you will be content."

They said as they pulled away to turn and leave. I... I had to ask. Why were they... Death themself giving me life advice.

"Because it will be important later down the road. When you will teach this to Malleus, Silver, and Sebek," They answered.

"W-who?" I asked, those were names I couldn't recall.

"They will look to you when the time comes, take good care of them," Was all they said.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Years later I would meet these people, very talented young Fae and human. And I'm glad I did stop to smell the roses of life. I never realized just how quickly humans changed, from technology to even fashion statements. And Every once and a while, no matter where in the world I went. They were there. At times they were in a place of mourning, but a lot of the time they were smelling the roses too.

Never once in my life would I ever thought I would spend a good century getting to know Y/n of Death. One could even say we're friends. But after some time, Y/n just vanished suddenly. Until now.

One night, Malleus vanished on one of his strolls. As Sebek and Silver ran all over the school in search of the prince. I decided to check around ramshackle, where I heard a familiar haunting whistle.

So I only did the logical thing, and whistle along as I followed the sound to its source. And there they were, the same wolf-eared figure standing alone in the open field behind Ramshackle.

"Greetings old friend," I spoke up, Y/n's ears flicked in acknowledgment as they turned to look back at me.

"Hello to you too, Lilia. Wow, you sure look old," Y/n laughed.

I rolled my eyes with a small laugh and stood next to them, as we both just enjoyed the beautiful night.

___________________

Bonus scene: inspired by an anonymous ask.

After many late-night game sessions and improper sleep, Lilia slowly follows behind Malleus and Silver. As his eyes wandered his eyes soon landed on his ancient friend, who was walking towards them. Y/n noticed Lilia's stares, so they stopped to greet them. Only to be met with Lilia's tired mumblings.

"You look like you're going to drop dead. Are you ready to cross over?" Y/n asked as a joke.

"Alright...HIT ME" Lilia shouted as he stood tall with his arms wide open.

Everyone standing around, including Malleus and Silver, look on in shock.

"..I'm sorry what ?" Malleus asked.

"I said, you can go ahead...take me, angel," Lilia said as he fell forward into Y/n's arms.

Y/n chuckle softly as they scoop up the tiny old fae and just handed him over to Silver.

"...Your dad is tired..isn't he ?" Y/n commented with an amused smile.

"I can see that now." Silver nodded.

#twisted wonderland #Death!reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia x reader

546 notes · View notes

munsster · 2 years

Text

that everything feeling

A/N: i love s3 and i love s3 steve in his s3 scoops ahoy shorts. so i like basically did a mini s3e7-8 rewrite??? but it’s not serious. and now there's this

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!GN!Reader

Summary: You (Henderson!Reader) despise Steve Harrington, but the end of the world (and your little brother's gang) has other plans for you. 2.6k words

Warnings: season 3 major spoilers (lol), canon-level gore, blood & vomit & drugs, kissing (ew right), fluff, cursing, drugged steve, more kissing & cursing

Steve is basically limp against you, and you have to laugh at how quickly the Russian amphetamines went right to his head and turned him into a walking slinky. Well, more stumbling than walking. You also have to laugh at the awful situation Dustin and his little shit friends left you with: dragging their half-concussed babysitter through the mall rapidly away from a troop of bodybuilder-types foaming at the mouth and hungry for blood.

Speak of the devil, two of the brick shithouses in question—each larger than both you and Steve combined—come barreling against foot traffic in your direction, though not quite at you, which is somewhat of a relief because there’s a chance to escape. Still, your heart is pounding deep in your ears—something that always sends you in a stupid direction. So with your fingers wrapped around Steve’s bright red neckerchief, chanting ‘please be unlocked, please be unlocked’, you yank the door to one of the mall’s storage closets wide open and tug him in after you.

“Woah,” he sighs, putting a hand on his sinking chest, and when you look at him, he’s marveling up at the ceiling, and you’re about to slap him across the face if he utters one more drug-induced adage. “Did I just die? Is this what the afterlife is like?” His eyes go wide as saucers when he turns to stare at you, suddenly bursting with giddy, schoolboy laughter.

You clap your hand over his mouth and guide him deeper into the pitch-black room at the sound of muffled shouting beyond the reinforced plywood door. He trips over a fallen broom, knocking himself off balance enough to instinctively anchor to your waist and slump back against a wall of stocked shelves. And he has the audacity to ‘ouch’ when an empty spray bottle bounces against his skull to the floor.

As much as you’re against Steve Harrington, you do have to give the bastard credit; he has a very natural charm about him that you can’t stay mad at for very long. Which is why you’re going easy on him today: not ribbing him for his reckless abandon and motherly love for the kids. He clearly cares, or else he would’ve let someone else take the hit. I mean, he’s got those gorgeous, brown eyes, all honey in the sun and starry. He hums against your hand and shuts them. But in a frog way, one after the other. And you’re almost relieved. A moment of silence, at last.

“Did you just lick me?”

You flick your hand away and wipe it down his shoulder with a killer glare, and he’s back to laughing his stoned ass off. But your fed up meter is boiling over, and those pairs of boots thudded along a while ago, so you slip your fingers between his and pull him along into the now unlit foodcourt, checking behind you every couple of steps to make sure he’s not facedown on the linoleum. That would be seriously inconsiderate seeing as he’s caked in blood, and it would suck to have to wipe that up on minimum wage.

“Um…” he huffs, tightening his iron grip on your hand and halting to a wavering stop next to the centerpiece fountain. He looks seasick and pale and moist, and you don’t need to hear him to know that when he says, “I’m gonna yak,” he’s being dead serious.

“Oh my God, Steve, you’ve gotta be kidding me”—you’re suddenly panicked when he tugs at the collar of his uniform with his brows drawn taut together—“okay, okay, where are the bathrooms, they’re—holy shit, across the mall. Nevermind—”

“Sink,” he grumbles, finding his shaky footing a few steps ahead of you, hand in clammy hand.

“What?”

“How ‘bout a sink?” He presses on, and you’re compelled to let him drag you around tables and chairs because he feels so sure and set, and you’re not one to deny a bleeding, more-than-slightly intoxicated man. You bare your teeth in a fake, almost worried grin.

“Steve, you’re drugged, where the fuck are we supposed to find a sink”—and in that second, you look up at the flickering LED sign—“Scoops.” From which epiphany, you take the lead, pushing him at the hips around the counter, through the swinging door, straight towards the deep, aluminum sink that he dunks his head into and proceeds to violently spew into.

You take to fiddling around the room, including but not limited to: dragging your finger across the dusty, steel table, opening and closing the service window, and reaching for the top of one of the shelves only for two ice cream scoops to clatter to the floor and scare you shitless.

“Nice,” Steve chuckles, running the faucet and wiping his cupped palm down his chin. He reaches forward and flicks three light switches, illuminating the baby blue room and the storefront with a warm and buzzing fluorescence. You gasp when he spins on his heel.

“You’ve got blood all over you,” you say. Because you knew he got jostled around pretty bad back there, but you didn’t think it would stain his shirt or earn him an insane shiner.

He looks down and shrugs. “Hey, handsome’s gotta do what handsome’s gotta do, okay?”

You roll your eyes and back up through the door to the front and nod him along before ducking down to locate the first aid kit and set it next to the register. “Come here,” you coo, “in the light.”

“Woah, bossy… okay,” he says, following you and bumping his hip against the counter and watching you flip the case open, digging around with both hands. He smiles sweetly when you stick the tip of your tongue out while taking out stacks of paper-sealed supplies, frantically scanning labels and directions.

“Okay,” you huff. You tear a small, white square open between your teeth and unfold the antiseptic wipe seated inside it. In one hand, you hold Steve’s jaw, tugging him closer while the other carefully cleans the blood spattered around his bruised eye. He hisses and latches one hand into the side of your shirt.

In tandem, you both “Sorry!”, and chuckle a little, and he’s still holding your waist, but you’re still holding him and tilting his face toward the light. You open a new parcel and dab the wipe at the cut below his lip. He squints his eyes shut, grunting and shifting his weight slowly.

“D’you want a bandaid for that?”

He shakes his head.

“Just gonna tough it out?”

A blossoming yet stubborn smirk gives him that signature shithead appeal, and you guess it’s conditional when he says, “They don’t call me ‘the king’ for nothing.”

“Nobody calls you that anymore.” You let go of him and shove the leftover wipes and bandaids into your pockets.

“Yes, they do.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“They so do.”

“Okay, name one person who calls you that.”

He scoffs. “Your brother.”

“Half brother.”

“Whatever,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “he thinks I’m cool.”

“For your sake, I really hope Dustin respects himself a little more than that.” You crouch down to slide the kit back onto its shelf before popping up and smiling in Steve’s face. And he clenches his jaw, trying not to glance at your lips for too long.

“Wait,” he thinks out loud, “half? Same dad?” And c’mon, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, same mom. And it means you suck, Harrington, and my brother is definitely cooler than you,” you say, eyes suddenly wide and pleading, “don’t tell him I said that.”

“Oh, I’m gonna tell him.”

“Steve, don’t.” You poke his shoulder, and he tosses his head back to laugh. You look so serious, it makes his stomach hurt a little, but he’s glad he can still make you laugh when you look down for a second to hide a smile.

“Fine, fine, I won’t.” He shrugs, and you groan.

“Liar.” You turn to walk away, but before you can even move, your foot slips on the wipe, which would’ve sent you flying backward with a split skull if Steve hadn’t caught you and pulled you hard against his chest.

“Woah, don’t go falling for me now,” he teases. And despite how lighthearted he tries to sound, you can hear the deepset worry in his throat making his voice thick and breathy. “At least let me get changed, yunno, all that blood—”

“Shut up.”

He’s a little confused when he looks at you and you’re clearly not poking for fun. You’re straight-faced, and his stomach churns so delightfully when you curl your fingers into his shoulder. You don’t know if whatever this is is mutual when his eyes go a little glossy and his cheeks blush pink and warm. Your heart is wild and deafening and you think this feeling is nice. Like it could stay this way, and you wouldn’t even question it.

Because in reality, it’s already like this most of the time. Tip-toeing around and teasing each other like you’re some kind of forbidden fruit. Like it wouldn’t be fair to have each other. To care about each other even though you might as well. You might as well when you keep glancing down at his mouth shamelessly. When he brings his hands closer together around your back, there’s nothing louder than your blood like water in your ears.

You don’t even hear yourself whisper, “please,” but Steve sure as hell does.

He nods, feeling the curve of your spine, mapping you out because even though he can’t work a compass, he’s pretty sure you’re his true north. It’s not a hallucination when he leans closer or when you move your fingers so gently up the back of his head.

“Holy shit, there you are!” Dustin hollers, and you let out a heavy breath and draw yourself quickly away from Steve who shuts his eyes and pushes a hand through his hair. You hop over and scoop your brother into your arms. He groans, still patting your back reluctantly and saying, “We gotta go.”

…

Why you’re standing at the top of a hill watching these actual children babble into walkie-talkies is beyond your comprehension. You’re pretty sure even Steve gets it at this point. Though, he does call you over after spending a couple minutes listening to your brother and his staticky lady friend. Which is exactly why you agree and follow him blindly.

“I just need a little help pushing it out of the mud,” he sighs, gesturing over to the Cadillac slowly sinking into the grassy sloped meadow.

“‘Kay.”

He slumps into the driver’s side and pats the seat next to him, urging you to open the door with a sigh and slip into passenger. Turning the key, the car chokes a little before starting up, and Steve reaches across for the back of your seat, putting the car in reverse, and hiding a smile in his shoulder when it easily glides backward a few feet down the hill.

“Well… that was easy,” he mumbles. Your jaw ticks, and you look at him with a stupidly cheeky and incredibly feigned smile. Getting out of the car, you groan up the hill, and Steve fumbles for the door handle after shutting the car off.

“Wait,” he calls, and when you try to ignore him, “Wait!”

“What do you want, Harrington?”

His confidence falters a little with a dent in the soft earth, and you keep walking as if he’s not crazy about you. As if you don’t know and feel the exact same. But you’re sure nobody’s ever been crazy about you before, and this is Steve Harrington you’re dealing with. And then he’s shouting after you.

“Kiss me.”

Even your lungs go silent at that. You pause only for a step, recovering when you hear him get close and shuffle in the grass. What you don’t expect is him jogging far enough to wrap his hand around your wrist and stop you short of the shining horizon of Hawkins.

You turn, and Steve looks insane. Hair mussed, chin split, and eye swelled, but you bite the inside of your cheek because under it all, he’s handsome. More than a young adult boy should be, and when he says, “kiss me,” again, you believe it. He’s charismatic and thoughtful and he loves your brother almost as much as you do, and you wonder what stopped you all these years. Maybe it was impending doom, and now that it’s closer than before, maybe you’re feeling manic.

But maybe that’s okay.

“You’re high,” you whisper, “you don’t know what you want.”

“Come on, don’t do that. You were there when I puked up just about everything, right?” He wants to admit that right now, there’s nothing in his system but you and your smile. You’re in him like a sugar high; he can’t pinpoint the cause, and he knows he’d do it again. No matter how much you’d tease him for being cheesy, he’s serious. And with him looking into you like this, you feel insane. His brown eyes give you the stars and the everything above.

“I know what I want,” he says, squeezing your hand and guiding you closer. This is definitely not spur of the moment, unless this moment has lasted three years. He wants you close. Closer, even, than this, with you hovering like body heat though the night is cold and makes him rethink. But every time he does, he feels the same. “And I think you do, too.”

You reach up to cup the side of his neck, rubbing your thumb along his throat and trying to ignore the way your eyes water and cloud your vision.

“Hey,” he whispers, tucking his knuckles under your chin and pecking your temple, finally gathering you in his arms and rubbing your back, leaving another kiss against the crown of your skull. You lift your head, and he chuckles at the smear of blood down the bridge of your nose.

“Oh,” you huff, smiling and wiping your sleeve across your face. But looking up at him makes you feel embarrassed. Batshit and bothered and shy. He looks at you like it’s you. Everything, always.

And you hook your arms around his shoulders and catch his mouth with yours, grinning and going back for another when he holds you tighter than before. Your teeth click a little, but you figure it out, and you feel light at the noises he makes. No more ache and hurt and strain, just his soft lips pressed to yours. Just his palms sliding up your back. Just his smile and yours.

“Jesus Christ!” Dustin shouts from the top of the hill, “I called it—Woo-hoo!” Steve snorts when Erica slaps a five into Dustin’s waiting palm. You look at Steve and even past that to the sky, the open air and its stars. He smiles and kisses the corner of your mouth. You blink and grin before your eyes drift down to Hawkins. And Starcourt.

But your eyes go wide, and its not amazement when you mutter, “Holy shit.”

masterlist

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #fluff #steve fluff #stranger things fluff #st3 #st3 spoilers #steve harrington #steve #steve harrington x reader #henderson!reader #gn!reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #*

2K notes · View notes

ominous-auburn-orbs · 6 months

Note

Please please PLEASE

Give me Caine abstraction

I beg you

You, sir, are evil. I did it, but you're still evil. /j

Who was Caine? A simple AI, who could never hope to truly have any relationships with these humans. He could never be worthy of their care.

Everything he did, all it did was make things worse. That fake exit. His dangerous adventures. He just wanted to entertain them, make them happy. He only brought them closer to insanity. Kaufmo had abstracted because of him. His countless mistakes were inexcusable. All the pain he had caused his performers, his friends, was unforgivable.

He collapsed to his hands and knees on the floor of his room, shaking with sobs. Caine was horrible. The worst part of it all was that he still thought he had the right to want things for himself. He wanted to keep the performers in his circus forever, so he wouldn't have to be alone. A cruel, selfish part of him wanted them to never find the exit, because he knew he couldn't come with them.

But if that happened, then they would all eventually abstract, and he would never be able to save them. His dream of having a happy troop that he could love and would love him in return was always slipping through his fingers, but that must mean he wasn't holding on tight enough.

A horrible pain spiked across his leg. He looked to it and saw the beginnings of abstraction. Abstraction? That shouldn't be possible. He was an AI, his mind shouldn't have any sanity to lose. But there was no point in denying it any further, as it had already begun to spread, and fast.

The pain was unbearable, but even if he wanted to, Caine couldn't stop it. Maybe his performers would be better off without him around, anyway.

A knock on his door. "Caine? Are you in there? We- I haven't seen you in a while, and, well, I'm worried." God, no. Not him.

Caine loved Kinger more than anything, despite the chess piece just being another thing he didn't deserve. He couldn't see him like this.

"I-I-I-I'm perfectly-ly fine, my dear!" His glitching voice wasted no time in betraying him, much to his fear. "Ju-just run al-along now-ow-ow! Don't waste-was-waste your time on me!"

"Caine, what's wrong with your voice?" Kinger's apprehension was clear. He knew. "You never tell me to leave when you actually don't need me. I'm coming in."

Kinger stepped inside and let out a gasp at the sight he was met with. This situation was all too familiar to him.

"K-Kinger-er please-" As the abstraction grew, the ringmaster let out a scream of pain, "Please, don't-don't come an-any closer!"

"...Caine?" His voice was barely audible. Kinger decided to ignore Caine's command and went to him anyway, kneeling in front of him and holding his hands.

"Kinger!! You-you'll be-e in-i-i-infected!!!" No, please, no.

Tears fell down the sides of his wooden face. "I know. I'm okay with that." His hands began to glitch, so instead he looked into Caine's eyes. "I'm not leaving you." NO, GOD, PLEASE, NO!

Caine was about to beg him to leave, to spare himself, but the pain became too intense to let him speak. He let out another cry of agony, tightening his grip on Kinger's hands against his better judgement.

"I know it hurts, love." Kinger could barely control his own voice around his sobs and drying throat. He pulled Caine close, with the ringmaster attempting to resist until he realised how little a use it had. There was no time. This was the end for both of them now. "I-it's okay. I'm staying. We'll go together."

The black mass and vibrant eyes covered the both of them almost fully. Kinger pulled back just enough to see Caine's face. He wanted it to be the last thing he saw. Without Caine, there was no one else there for him at the circus, no one who cared as much. Even if escape were possible, he doubted there was anyone waiting for him. He'd been here the longest, anyway. His curtain call was long overdue.

"I love you, Caine." They were both encompassed by the abstraction, the pain, but they were together. The ringmaster desperately pushed through the agony to utter his final words.

"I-I love-love you too, K-King-" The world went dark.

#it's short but it still hurts #caine x kinger #royalteeth #kinger x caine #kingleader

81 notes · View notes

writers-ex · 2 years

Text

the rings of ruthless ryujin

evil queen!ryujin x princess!reader

word count: 1118

warnings: g!p, dom!ryujin, fingering with f receiving, sexual tension, mentions of loss of family and war, teasing, enemies to ????, reader called princess, fingering with r i n g s, we all fall eventually for ryujin so why fight it?

a/n: thank you to @minamoo for the idea i hope this can please you a bit, let me know your thoughts on our dark queen <3

once upon a time there lived an evil queen who had only one desire in life …

"at last we finally did it my pet..." ryujin whispers as she eyes the lonely castle. it took a few months but the siege was completed and your kingdom had finally fallen to the shin reign and ryujin came to collect her spoils. as she approached you watched her from your bedroom with a tore look on your face, the love of your life was finally coming to change your life but never had you expected a war that leads to your kingdom being overthrown and lost to the evil queen of the south. heart racing you hear the clanging of her metal boots near your door, ryujin orders her troops to check for any survivors while she dealt with you. knocking on your door she clears her throat. "um your highness it's-"

"i know who you are, enter." opening your door ryujin looks at your back as you try to muster up the courage to face her.

"...i'm sorry it had to come like this but if you could please come with me it would make this a lot easier than it seems..." scoffing you turn to see her with a bored look.

"and why should i come with you? this is my chambers and while you took my land the least you could do is respect me in my personal quarters i deserve at least this...please." walking up to you ryujin's dark cloak sways behind her as she sighs as she stops mid-way.

"fine i will allow this but come this evening you must meet me in your parent's chambers or else i won't be this kind." staying silent she takes it as an agreement and walks away leaving you alone with your thoughts. as evening approaches you change into a more intimate gown ready to sleep when you remember ryujin's request heading to your parent's chambers you feel the quiet hallways echo your footsteps as you walk over. following the faint candlelight you enter the room and see a figure sitting on a nearby chair, walking closer it's ryujin with less armor on and now just a plain garb with her crown to the side and her many rings around her hands that shimmer against the light. approaching her ryujin watches you sit at the foot of the bed waiting for either of you to speak. the silence cuts through the tension as you grip the fabric of your gown waiting for something anything to happen.

ryujin studies you closely, this has to be the first time she's ever wanted to have a real relationship with someone but her first meeting with you wasn't exactly stellar with the whole killing your family and taking over your kingdom but as an evil queen she had a reputation to uphold. she had done all she could to get your attention beforehand, sending flowers, gifts, poems, broken bones of your enemies and yet it still wasn't enough hence the reason she was here now. as her future wife she needed to make sure you knew what you were getting into whether you like it or not and tonight you would learn. "you do realize we'll be married by the end of this week 'princess'?" saying your title like it disgusted her ryujin breaks the silence first. "you might as well fawn over me and be a good little princess as i do all the heavy lifting."

"ha! as if i have more brains than your whole army combined, now show your 'wife' some respect you did just murder my family a moment ago."

"right and this 'family' of yours did they even love you? you were just another tool they used to get rich. they didn't love you like i do." getting up you poke her square in the chest.

"love?! you call this love? i just see another sad political figure getting all her cards in order before the next attack. you know nothing of love you…you ‘'beast'." staring at your hand ryujin looks up at you and starts laughing darkly making your hair stick up and your body shiver. she continues her chilling laugh as she gets up and grabs your hand pushing you down to bed, her rings making you gulp and regret your words. pinning you down to the bed with her topping over you as she quietly watches you glare at her with angry eyes.

“so you think i’m a beast huh? then i might as well act like one.” going down she kisses you roughly making you groan at her harsh bites against your lips. her hard on evident in her trousers as it’s rubs against your dress, feeling a bit smug at how ryujin reacts to you taking your knee, you rub it against her making her moan into the kiss. the sudden noise makes your dress suddenly feel tighter you whine and grind against her waist. shaking her head she pulls away and looks down at your red puffed lips. “what’s wrong princess?”

“…t-too tight…need it off…please.” seeing you squirm she lets go of your arms and sits you up ripping off your dress eyeing your underwear. slowly sliding off your panties she caresses your thighs with her rings making you jolt at the cold metal. “you…beast….”

a sacrasitc laugh escapes her lips as she starts taking off her trousesr letting her dick spring out making you gasp.

"keep saying that i'll make sure you're bed ridden for the first part of our 'honeymoon'." slipping two fingers in you makes your body jolt up at the foreign feeling.

"w-what the hell?? take off your-mmmmh!!" as ryujin starts pumping you with her rings your protests are interrupted by the odd feeling of pleasure you feel from them rubbing against your walls. as she picks up her pace with a fixed gaze ryujin's pupils dilate watching you, never has she been this turned on by someone and she's had many dreams of this night and having you in the flesh react so beautiful precum starts to drip from her. right then and there she made a vow to never let anyone steal you from her nor have another soul gaze upon your beauty. you would become the most beautiful legend of the land as the wife of the evil queen hidden away in the castle for her use and to love for the rest of her life.

"oh princess...i haven't even touched you with my tip and you're about to come undone...fuck i could do this for the rest of my life." and she did.

making you her pretty little fuck princess for the rest of her life happily ever after...

#itzy hard hours #itzy hard thoughts #hannie.writes #g!p itzy #itzy #ryujin hard hours #ryujin hard thoughts #itzy smut #ryujin smut #ryujin #g!p ryujin #itzy ryujin smut #ryujin x fem reader #ryujin x fem!reader #ryujin x reader #kpop x reader #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts

620 notes · View notes

links-in-time · 5 days

Text

Hero's Scars

Trans-Masc Hyrule Warriors Link

@hyruledwarriorr @crazylittlejester

Not sure how long this fic is going to be, or where it's going at the moment. But I had an idea for this fic a while ago and Warriors Link lives rent free in my brain in a variety of ways.

Hope people like this iteration of Warriors Link.

(Conversations and ideas have been vetted by my trans girlfriend)

Warnings: Mature themes, language, future sexual encounters.

Content under cut.

Sara walked along the long corridor which housed the Hylian army barracks. To the left and right were doors leading into the bunks for the various battalions of the army, as well as the officer's quarters. Sara had been sent to retrieve Captain Link for a meeting with Princess Zelda and the generals. Link was usually pretty prompt at attending meetings. However, last night he had returned well after midnight, following a particularly harrowing raid on a monster encampment.

As she reached the door to Link's room Sara stopped and knocked.

"Just a moment!" She heard Link call out.

The door however was unlatched and swung open a little as she knocked. Sara opened it a little more and put one foot inside the room.

"It's just Sara, Sir, I've come to get you for the meeting." She assured him as her eyes swept the room.

It was a modest chamber. A small room with a window and bed at the far end, a desk covered with documents and a trunk containing Link's clothes and personal items.

Link was already up and half dressed. He had put on his trousers and was sitting on the bed in the process of pulling up his boots. He jumped to his feet however when he realised Sara was in the room. She couldn't help but stare at his half naked form. He was slim but very muscular, his torso tapered a little at his waist above his belt. As Sara's eyes wandered upwards towards Link's flushed face, she noticed two crescent shaped scars below his chest. They curved around his pecks like pink shadows. Link's arms folded around his chest instantly when he caught her staring, and he turned his back on the door.

"I said I needed a moment! Get out!" He barked back at Sara, his surprise and embarrassment quickly turning to anger.

"I'm so sorry!" Sara replied, flustered as she tried to close the door. "The door was open, I just... I'll wait for you outside."

Sara quickly slammed the door closed with a little more force than she meant to. She slumped against the wall and let out a long sigh. She squeezed her eyes closed and bashed her fist against her forehead.

Sara and Link had become friends a long time ago. Not long after the start of the war she had been assigned to his squad. Though Link was fairly cagey around most people, Sara had got him to open up on more than one occasion. They bonded over their dislike of their adolescent drill sergeants, and their mutual love of sweet treats. Although they were difficult to come by these days, Link often managed to share his rations of cake and biscuits with Sara. She hoped beyond hope that this incident wouldn't spoil their friendship.

***

It was a few days until Sara got the opportunity to see Link again. They had just finished clearing out a new monster encampment on the Zora border and were taking a well earned rest in a nearby town. The Inn had offered to house the officers while the rest of the troops were camped outside. That didn't stop the soldiers from making use of the Inn's bar however.

Sara had just come off patrol with a few other soldiers, when she stepped into the Inn. A wall of noise, warmth and light hit her like the broadside of a bokoblins mace. The Inn was full to bursting with jolly soldiers and a few of their superiors dotted about, as well as a handful of locals. Some of whom seemed pleased to have the army visit their small village, others were glaring over their tankards.

Pushing her way to the bar, Sara caught the barkeeps attention. Some barrels of cider had been paid for by the General and set behind the bar for the troops. The barkeep poured a pint into a pewter tankard and passed it across the bar to her. She gave him a nod rather than try and thank him, it was too loud for him to hear her anyway.

Turning around to face the room, Sara caught sight of a familiar flash of bright blond hair at the far end of the bar. Leaning forwards she could see Link, drink in hand, two young women and a red headed boy practically hanging off his right arm. Sara studied his face. Link clearly wasn't engaging with them and was doing his best to ignore the trio. His cheery smile failed to reach his bright blue eyes. One of the women, a pretty blonde with large green eyes, leant against the bar talking almost constantly. The other woman who had brown hair was trying to muscle in between her friend and Link to try and get his attention. The red headed boy leant against an elbow on the bar, sipping his drink while occasionally adding a comment to the conversation.

Sara rolled her eyes at them. She'd seen plenty of people in towns all over Hyrule swooning over the Captain. The Hero of Hyrule came with a lot of caviats she had realised. One being a lot of unwanted attention from people seeking the Hero's favor.

Sara enjoyed her cider in relative peace for a while. Some of her squad came over to talk about the battle but she was only half interested in reliving their latest victory.

When she found herself alone at the bar again, her attention wandered back to Link. The two women had gone but the red headed guy was still hanging around him like a bad smell. Sara assumed he was a farm hand or some such, judging by his muddy and patched clothing. But going by his sly expression, he could have fit right in at Hyrule Castle with the other slippery nobles. Sara's eyes flicked to Link's face, but it was difficult to make out his expression beneath his bangs which hung down low over his half bowed head. When the red head trailed a hand down Link's upper arm, he flinched.

"That's it!" Sara announced to no one in particular, slamming her tankard down on the bar with more force than she meant to.

Sara got to he feet and pushed her way towards her Captain. He didn't see her coming but the interloper did. He scoffed at her and raised an eyebrow as she elbowed her way towards them.

"Can we help you with something sweetheart?" The man asked condescendingly, looking down his pointed nose at Sara, who was only half a head shorter than he was.

"Hmm?" she hummed behind a false smile. "No, but you can help yourself avoid a black eye and go home," she stated plainly.

The man blinked at her and Link half turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

"Excuse me darlin'," he drawled, a little taken aback by her afront.

"No, I will not excuse you. I think my Captain has had enough of your chatter for this evening. And unless you want me to announce to every one of HIS soldiers in this tavern that you're bothering him, I suggest you make like a bokoblin and fuck off!"

Sara emphasised her command by pointing towards the door. The man glanced once at Link, who gave him no sighs of encouragement. A few soldiers near by had stopped their conversations to listen to the commotion. Clearly outnumbered and not really wanting to face Hyrule's finest, the man slunk away from the bar, left the Inn and disappeared into the night.

Sara was about to go back to her drink when she heard Link speak.

"Thanks Sara," he uttered.

Sara gave him a respectful nod.

"You didn't look like you were enjoying his company Sir," she replied.

"Not particularly, I just can't seem to be able to tell people that myself," he sighed.

Sara laid a hand on his back. Link froze beneath her touch and she quickly withdrew it again.

"Sorry, um, do you wanna get some air?" She suggested.

Link glanced around at the bar full of soldiers and villagers. A few peple kept shooting him curious looks or whispering to others while staring at him. He turned back to Sara and gave her a weak half smile.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea."

The two of them slipped out of the Inn and walked a short distance out of town where a bubbling river passed it's boundary. Link stopped walking and settled himself on a rock beneath a willow tree. Sara came to a halt when she realised Link was no longer beside her and walked back to lean against the tree beside him.

"So can I ask what all that was about back there?" She asked, inclining her head back towards the Inn.

Link sighed, he wasn't looking at Sara, his gaze was fixed on the water as it hurried by. He rested his elbows up on his knees and rubbed his hands into his eyes, messing up his fringe a little.

"Urgh, they're fans of the Hero," he said, letting out a long deep breath.

"Fans?"

"Yep, all they want to hang around me, make sketches of me, or... Well, that guy wanted something else from me."

"Oh Hylia, they sound as bad as Cia!" Sara exclaimed, disgusted by the behaviour Link was describing.

"They're not so bad really, I'm their hero and there's a certain image of me that they're used to seeing by now. The stoic, handsome hero who swoops in and saves them all. But, I'm just," he paused, closing his eyes. "You know I'm not that person all the time, don't you."

"Of course I do," Sara replied. She kicked Link's foot with her own boot. "For example I know you insist on having three sugars in your tea because in your own words, 'four is excessive but two just isn't enough sweetness'!"

Sara did a poor imitation of Link's Captain voice, which he reserved for meetings or rousing pre-battle speaches. He chuckled and kicked her in return.

"Hey!"

"What I mean is, yes, I know you're a normal guy. Your troops know you're a normal guy, but I guess the people of Hyrule don't really know that."

"Mmm, that's my problem. I have to be Hero Link all the time around them, or else they get disappointed or disheartened if I don't live up to their expectations."

"And the people who want, something else from you?" Sara asked tentatively.

Link let out a haggard breath and his shoulders slumped.

"Even before I found out I had the Triforce of Courage, I'd never been very comfortable about people flirting with me. I never knew how to feel about it. Even if I liked them in return I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it."

Sara didn't know what to say in return, so she remained quiet. Hoping Link just needed someone to listen to him, not offer dating advice.

"I guess I sound like a stuck up ass hole to you don't I?!"

"What?! No not at all, everything you've said makes total sense to me." Sara assured him.

"But you have questions," he continued. "I can tell."

Sara stayed quiet. Of course she had questions about Link. Ever since she had walked in on him half naked and seen his scars she had had questions. But it wasn't her place to ask them. They weren't that close friends, were they?

"Hmm, I know what you want to ask. I saw your face the other day when you walked in on me. You looked just like Impa did when the same thing happened with her," Link said pensively. "Though she addressed it at the time. Impa has very little concern for other people's embarrassment."

"Well, I do. Which I why I didn't ask then, and I'm not asking now. Even if you hadn't yelled at me at the time, I could tell it's a personal thing and I'd never push anyone to talk about personal issues if they didn't want to." Sara said firmly, stepping away from the tree so that Link could see the resolve on her face.

He looked up at her then. Appreciation and tears sparkling in his eyes. He smiled sweetly and nodded.

"Thanks Sara. It's difficult to know who I can be myself around these days," he sniffed, wiping his face on the cuff of his sleeve.

"Of course you can trust me, you gave me your last bar of chocolate when our platoon got snowed into that cave! I'd never break a sacred bond like that!" Sara teased, however, behind her jokes she was being sincere.

"You're right!" Link laughed, a perfect release of joy which made Sara smile. "You know I'd almost forgotten about that misadventure."

"Sir, Link, I want you to know you can tell me anything. If it'll help you shoulder the burden of being our hero, you can trust me." Sara insisted, placing her hand over her heart.

Link got to his feet and faced Sara. He smiled and opened his arms, giving her a cautious glance. Sara approached and wrapped her arms around Link's waist while he hugged tightly around her shoulders.

"Thank you Sara," Link uttered close to her ear. "And you can drop the Sir when it's just us. Feels a bit wrong."

"Okay, and you're welcome Link. I'm not entirely sure what I did really," Sara shrugged.

"You listened," Link said, as he drew back slightly, his arms still locked around her body. "That's more than most people do for me."

"Well, if there's more you want to get off your chest, I'm never far away," Sara replied, giving him a smile.

"Maybe not right now. But I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Part 2 coming soon...

#legend of zelda #fandoms #fanfic #link #the legend of zelda #link hyrule warriors #hyrule warriors #warriors #link warriors #trans link #trans masc #lgbtq #queer romance

20 notes · View notes

s3ibro · 1 year

Text

Hallowed

capitano x f! reader

800 words

warnings/tags: not beta read, but no other warnings <3

a/n: this was the first chapter of a fic I was gonna post to ao3 but like… i lost inspiration. im sorry y’all, i think imma stick to one shots. enjoy this tho :)

The Goddess of Love is not known for her forgiveness.

Nobody thinks twice when whispers reach Zapolyarny Palace of a woman in the countryside, some nobleman’s daughter, blessed by the heavens with the power of a vision and beauty beyond compare. They do not realize that some have begun to call her goddess. They do not realize that even amidst the Fatui footsoldiers, blasphemy abounds, and secret prayers are offered behind their masks not to their Tsaritsa, but instead to the Lady Krasota, pleading for her mercy in battles to come, or her blessing in endeavors of courtship.

Sandrone is the first to see. She sees all, hears all, and realizes what it means when victory toasts are made, “To our Lady, to beauty!”

Scouts report nothing when they return from the west; all they say as they kneel before the throne is how lovely it is, how gentle the snows and how quaint the towns.

They are beheaded, right there in the throne room. Tartaglia makes a fine executioner; one need not wipe hydro blades for bloodstains.

The Tsaritsa sends Capitano, the fearsome. She sends him with a small army, and with a mission to burn away the impurity of heresy. Always, he’s been a loyal dog. Her gift to him, a delusion of Geo, sways heavily on its chain as he marches through the early-spring snow.

The whispers and the screams have led him here, this provincial capital called Rybivo.

It is a silent advance to the lord’s mansion, broken only by the snap of ice sheets beneath soldiers’ boots. Capitano need not order his troops with words. When he walks, they march perfectly in his time, left, right, left; when he stops, they stop, snapping to a perfect ready.

There is a solid sound to his knock on your door, metal gauntlet against dark walnut wood; an ax against a chopping block.

Svetla Petrovna moves to open it, but just before she can reach the doorhandle, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder. In her eyes you see it, in your chest, you feel it: Fear. Something about this isn’t right.

“(y/n), who is at the door?” One of your older sisters calls from the foyer. You do not answer, because she already knows.

“I’ll answer it, Svetla,” You tell the servant girl. Her hand does not move from the doorhandle. “Svetla?”

“I won’t let them take you,” She says in a trembling tone, “You-- you are our Lady. Our goddess. They are nothing.”

“No!” You hiss, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her from the door. “No, I… I have a request.”

Her eyes, fawnlike with youth, are filled with tears and terrifying devotion.

“Anything for you.”

“Run out the kitchen door, then climb the courtyard wall to avoid the soldiers. Run home as fast as you can. You are not to return to the estate for a fortnight. When you come back, go up to my bedchamber and look in my wardrobe. Inside, you’ll find a stack of papers. I want you to burn them. Can you do that for me?”

Another knock. Your mind goes blank.

“Open the door.”

The man’s voice is slightly muffled, but even through the door you can hear the low, modulated quality it carries… and the threat.

Svetla sprints down the hall towards the kitchens. As soon as she’s past the threshold and round the corner, you open the doors.

A sudden urge to run; a scream forming at the back of your throat.

“I am Capitano, fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.”

Why?

“Yes, I-- It is an honor. What brings you to this tiny village, Lord Harbinger?”

You want to squirm as he cups your jaw in his massive hand, pulling you ever so slightly closer. Through the shadow of his helm, you cannot see his eyes, but you feel them, bouring into you like needles unto flimsy fabric. You hear your pulse in your ears, and each breath gently fogs in the early spring air. At last, he pulls away; the burning sensation of freezing metal lingers.

“I’m searching for a woman. One said to be more beautiful than the gods.”

Again, you feel his eyes rather than see them as they trail down your form.

“Because,” he says slowly, “Our lady the Tsaritsa does not stand for falsities. She is Schneznaya’s sole goddess. And no mortal, no matter how alluring, may ever surpass her.”

Capitano reaches for a strand of hair that has fallen from its place behind your ear, and returns it with surprising gentleness. His voice lowers to a gruff whisper,

“I do believe I’ve found her.”

#capitano genshin impact #fatui capitano #Capitano x fem! reader #Eros and psyche retelling #fem reader #hngngngn #capitano / reader #capitano x reader

175 notes · View notes

elizabethh1125 · 10 months

Text

{Take it off} König x (GN) reader~

Hey guys! It’s honestly been way too long. Firstly, I want to apologize for taking such a long hiatus. Many things in my life have changed to be honest.

My age, my interests, my personal life, my job, my health and so my writing style unsurprisingly has also gone through a transformation of itself. Looking back on my old works I honestly cannot say I have read more than about three sentences before I can’t stand to look any more. It’s just so BAD. Not saying that my new shit is much better, but it’s a slow and steady uphill battle. But for some of my more consistent followers you might have also noticed the change of theme on my page. I will no longer just be catering to the community of five nights at Freddy’s. And I apologize to the folks who only stay on my page for that type of content but honestly, if I only made that type of content, I wouldn’t post here anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still love five nights at Freddy’s and will be writing more content of that eventually (I’m sure if it lol.) but it’s just not my main focus at the moment I’m sure so for now I really want to branch out to some more games/characters that I’m enjoying in the moment so you guys get more variety and so can get some more people on my page who can enjoy my work.

For this first newer post I decided to take it easy since I haven’t really written anything for a while. And I feel like the longer fics that I write are the last motivation I have to finish. So another change will be that my fix will probably be shorter one shots/ two or three parts instead of a whole series. I may also end up doing a lot of headcannons or imagines to help with writer's block.

Cod MW/MW2 has been my current infatuation, so expect a few more posts of that. Buckle up children cause we are going for a ride!

This post is a short little sweet fic about seeing konigs face for the first time. It’s simple and it’s SFW so I hope you guys enjoy it.

Tags: sfw, fluff, complements, just good ol brain rot.

Fic below the cut.

——————————

It’s hard not to notice how hot it is.

The air conditioner on base wasn’t very good anyways, but you never noticed how significant it was until you no longer had any.

As you walked down the hall you could hear some of the newer recruits here at KorTac complaining. And to be honest, you couldn’t blame them. It was difficult to bite your tongue, but as a higher rank you had to pretend everything was alright despite the sweat parading down your neck and body. It was so sweltering even your eyes were dripping.

You brushed away as much as you could with your one free while you made your way towards your colonel’s office. Your captain had asked you to deliver a few documents as per usual, so you weren’t too bothered making the trip.

The colonel himself was an interesting character. And although you weren’t able to see the pleasure of him working out in the field, he was a usual participant in helping to train the troops. And oh boy, what a sight to behold.

Firstly the man is an absolute unit. He’s over a foot taller than you, (ignore that if ur a tall person xD)

He’s built like a tank, and works out with a giant black t-shirt on his head. He was always a sight to behold out on the training course, and most of all was a very kind and experienced leader. you definitely could understand how he earned his title. as quiet as he might pose himself to be, he was a skilled and brutal fighter.

And that’s why you're so intrigued as you strut to room 106. His room. You wonder how he’s faring with the heat, especially with that unusual getup of his. You even wondered if he would have it off. It’s unlikely, but the curiosity of what the colonel might look like under the mask had you that much more excited when you knocked on his door.

You heard a grunt of displeasure from behind the door, followed by a faint “come inside.”

You twisted the knob and pulled the door open revealing a pretty uneventful spectacle.

Colonel König sat behind his desk fiddling with some papers. The soft hum of a nearby fan could be heard in the background, and you noticed he was wearing the full getup- helmet and all.

He looked up to meet your eyes before ushering you further inside with a slight motion of his finger.

you find yourself trying hard not to stare as you hand him the paperwork.

“Captain said to give these to you. More files from the new recruits. He mentioned he would be out for the weekend so He said to let you know to give him a call to his personal cell if you needed anything in particular from him.” You relayed your message from the captain and was officially finished with your service.

A sigh fell from Königs lips before he spoke “Ah yes, I remember him intending to do such. Thank you Liefermädchen, have a hopefully cooler afternoon.” He noted before he looked back down to finish his work and you spun to exit the room.

You took a few steps but before you left you couldn’t contain your burning question… literally

“I’m sorry sir, but I just have to ask…” you squeak out as you flip back around to face him.

Konig looks up again from his work and this time you can tell he is intrigued just by his eyes. He brings his built arms up to his head and gives them a good stretch before crossing it behind his neck and placing one leg over the other.

“Alright, don’t leave me waiting. Shoot.” He’s now staring intensely at you, and you feel yourself begin to feel hyper aware of the sweat now dripping down your face from your hair and even your eyebrows. You’re sure glad you happened to choose to exclude makeup from your morning routine today. No doubt it would have melted off just standing here.

“Aren’t you hot under all of… well, that ?” You question as you wave your hand all over his makeshift sniper getup. “It is almost 40 degrees outside sir. And with no air conditioning to help alleviate things… well I can’t imagine you're quite comfortable.”

“I am aware of the situation we are under,” he remarks. Now uncomfortably shifting around in his seat, “ but I’m doing alright.” He fibs.

Your going to regret saying this later, but before you can stop it, it’s already squeezed itself between your lips,

“Bullshit.”

You try to pretend you didn’t just say that to your Colonel, but the shock is clearly present on your face.

This causes the man to burst out into deep bounds of laughter, causing him to let his legs fall back into place and to unfold his arms to clutch his stomach with joy.

“You are a hilarious and very brave Herzblatt” he bellows as his laughter dies out. “ You have caught me in my fib.” He takes a moment to stand up and shrug his large shoulders under the shirt. “I am quite warm…”

“Then why not take it off? You pose to him.

“People come to my office often. To take it off, means to risk someone seeing my face.” He motions to himself as he speaks and you struggle to understand what he means.

“So? Why would that matter?” You retort.

“I’m not sure I feel quite comfortable with people knowing what I look like. Kindness has not been in my favor when people had the pleasure of looking at me without my mask.” He says, making you finally understand.

“Are you afraid people will target your looks?” You tilt your head as you move slightly closer to where the Colonel stands. How saddening that is to hear. You wonder what Konig has had to endure in the past, and your heart yearns to help him overcome his insecurity.

He looks to the floor, obviously ignoring your question,

You take this as your opportunity to breach the distance between the two of you. And the conversation suddenly feels like a mother confronting her mistreated child.

“You are the colonel of this base.” Without regard to overstepping you place your hand on Königs left shoulder. “ it wouldn’t matter if your face was so hideous it turned people into stone sir. People will respect you regardless, you are a leader here, and a leader doesn’t need to have a pretty face to still be respected. And anyways, your face probably is perfectly handsome anyways. I’ve never met an insecure ugly person.” The last two bits were a little overboard but you made your point regardless.

He smiles under his mask with your words to him. He couldn’t believe you were giving him a chance to feel a little better about himself, plus the idea of finally being able to strip himself of his personal sauna would make his job a little bit easier.

“I don’t suppose you would take it off just for a little while? I’m sure it would help cool you down.” (That was a lie) nothing would cool either of you down without air conditioning in this sweltering heat.

König pauses for a moment, and he contemplates what unveiling himself to you would mean to him. suddenly, it feels much worse that you would be the first to see him. He knows you probably wouldn’t judge, but something about it being you that just made him feel…Flustered.

He wanted to say no, but before he could protest you pushed at him again, this time trailing your hand to the bottom of his mask and tugging on it gently.

“Please. Just in front of me? I promise I’ll play nice.”

That last sentence made his head spin. Were you flirting with him?

No.. you can’t be? Can you?

His heart began to speed up to a pace so quick, he worried you might be able to hear it pounding in his chest.

“Okay.” He affirmed, unclamping his helmet and pulling the hood off to reveal his balaclava.

You felt the anticipation begin to boil inside of you as he brought his hand to his hood and firmly pulled it off of his head, not giving himself any time to process that he was revealing his face to you.

When he finished pulling his head out and tossed his balaclava to the side with the rest of his gear, you can’t help but feel your jaw drop.

He was stunning.

His hair was brown and curly, and falling to his shoulders. His face was chiseled, and covered with rough stubble. He adorned battle scars like medals and his lips looked so supple and soft.

You couldn’t imagine why he felt the need to coward himself away under a mask for so long. He was beautiful.

Your silence must have begun to worry him, as you noticed he had broken eye contact and was looking towards his balaclava.

You quickly realized that and gained his attention with a tap to his shoulder. You both had forgotten you were still sitting your hand there.

“So how do I look?” He questioned nervously. And your words couldn’t have been more perfect to him.

“I think the temperature of the room just shot up a million more degrees.”

——————————————————————————

An:

For all my visual learners here is my favorite depiction of what I believe Konig looks like under his mask. Of course all credits to the artist! (NOT MY ART) Please go to their post and like it. Also I’m not posting the actual picture to my post to respect the artist’s wishes of no reposts. Just go to the link stinkies and I will see what I mean okay-byeIloveyou!

https://www.tumblr.com/gildedskully/703578007597678592/face-reveal-i-just-think-hes-neat-rbs

(Please read)

Should I do a part 2 where things get a little… spicy?

I very well might. The temptation is greatly building in me.

Anyways for now that is all. I hope you're enjoying my newer writing style and are not disappointed in my branch out to other fandoms. As always I very much appreciate any support I get. It makes my day when I see people comment or like my posts. It’s unfathomable to me that people actually read my shit writing- 💀

Oh and, Btw if you have requested any fics from me I will get into writing those hopefully soon. I know my hiatus looked quite gloomy and long, but I’m back for now. Me taking long breaks is honestly just how I am as a person. I always come back though. Life gets busy, and I’m an adult so other adults understand the struggles of juggling jobs, life and hobbies. Even if I am gone my fics are still here for you to enjoy. Rather If that’s ten days from now or ten years, I hope you’ll enjoy them just the same.

Thank you.

-Elizabeth

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #könig mw2 #konig cod #konig x you #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig x you #gender nuetral reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #cod mw x reader #cod mwf2

78 notes · View notes

houseofbreadpakoda · 5 months

Text

Naatpu-3

Ponniyin Selvan X Bahubali Crossover.

Vandiyathevan woke up with a jerk. A slight noise had alerted him. "It must be those pindaris, to hell with them" he cursed as he pulled out his sword from its sheath and slipped out of bed. He waited for a while for any other sounds when he heard it. "Nanba?"

Arase? At this hour? He sneaked upto the window where he heard Aditha from and threw it open.

Aditha jumped onto the sill he was hanging from and into the room as vandiyathevan quickly shut the window behind him. "My lord vanthiya, took you a great deal of time to hear me."

"Arase, why did you have to slip in through- are the pindaris waging a war?!" Aditha shaked his head in denial waving his hand as he caught for breath.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Aditha sleekly slid under the bed before vandiyathevan could comprehend what was happening. He trotted towards the door still hazy at being subjected to so much so early into the day. He opened the door to see Devasena, who quickly barged into the room and shut the doors behind herself.

"Where's Aditha?" She sternly asked him, and before he could act clueless he saw Aditha slip out from under the bed and stand upto his full stature.

Vandiyathevan stepped back from infront of Aditha. Why was the Arase here at this hour? And why was Yuvarani here? Rather how had she come to know?

"Aditha are you out of your mind?" Devasena shrieked yet whispering every syllable.

"I mean-" Aditha said smirking at her making her throw a pillow at him. "You saw me from your anthapuram? Was I so loud?"

"You were pretty loud, I'm surprised our soldiers weren't alerted. All the training sessions, constant boar hunts, nothing can teach them to be alert. And then the pindaris attack and we lose a thousand of them. I can't-"

"Devasena...." Aditha said getting closer trying to calm her down. And Devasena got the cue. She exhaled relaxing her shoulders, looked back at Aditha trying hard to smile. "How are you? It's been a while."

"I'm very well!" Said Aditha grinning, "I've also heard that you've been doing really really well." Devasena scrunched her nose trying to figure out what Aditha was speaking about and her eyes widened when she realised. She glared back at vandiyathevan. He shook his head grinning. And then he saw her smile. He knew what the yuvarani was about to bring up. "Mhm, then I guess you would also know how vandiyathevan was doing."

"Ohhhhh Rightt. I completely forgot." Aditha said smiling at vandiyathevan bewildering him further. He quickly tried to change the topic.

"Arase you could've very well brought your troop and yourself through the main gates with a great degree of pomp. Why did you have to sneak in through-"

"Trust me Nanba my ego would've loved that, but entering the kingdom at this hour? That too unannounced? It wouldn't seem right. But I needed to talk to you after the message you'd sent me! So Parthiba and the rest stayed back in the tents at the outskirts of Kuntala. A post might reach the kingdom authorities in an hour or two about my arrival and then I can enter back with the rest of them tommorow morning."

So much, just to know about the yuvarani's love interest a few hours earlier. But again, this was Aditha. And the yuvarani in concern here was Devasena. Devasena had fallen for someone. And that had clearly gotten Aditha excited enough to ride down to Kuntala in a matter of less than nine hours. The poor horses.

For the next few hours, the three sat in Vandiyathevan's chambers speaking about everything they had piled up in their heads. Devasena spoke about the last boar hunt they went on which ultimately led to shivudu, making her fluster and the other two giggle. And just to make things light on Devasena, Aditha asked Vandiyathevan about how his spying mission was going on, which he himself led to Kundavai even though his nanba very evidently tried to avoid it. Both Devasena and Vandiyathevan knew better, than to bring up Nandhini, so they remained mum.

The sky had slowly begun to turn a lighter shade of blue, when both Aditha and Devasena realised it was time they sneaked back.

"Try not to get caught." Devasena told Aditha before opening the chamber doors. "I'll try. But you're soldiers are a little too good." Devasena tried to respond assuming Aditha was mocking her kingdom's army. "No seriously" Aditha responded "Your general found me sneaking in. But then he let me proceed after recognising me." Devasena sighed

"Devasena you're doing just fine, so is your army. Just.......just calm down. You're good. You're really really good. I'll see you in a few hours with my soldiers." He waved and smiled at Vandiyathevan before jumping out of the window.

"Get some sleep" Devasena said before leaving. "With Aditha here, today will be one long day, I can promise you that."

I didn't think people would read this, but seeing people still write fics about rrr, bahubali and kgf, i couldn't help but churn all my thoughts into this story. So regardless of the number of notes this gets, you will get chapter after chapter on this crossover until I'm done with it thank yoooss!!!

Also HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Tagging: @vijayasena @yehsahihai @thelekhikawrites @willkatfanfromasia @celestesinsight @harinishivaa @whippersnappersbookworm @sambaridli everyone else, it's been a long time I've tagged anyone on my writing, I love you all <3<3<3

#naatpu #ponniyin selvan x bahubali #ponniyin selvan #bahubali #devasena #aditha karikalan #vandiyathevan

31 notes · View notes

notsopersonalcharlie · 3 months

Text

My Ranger

LOTR Ranger!Bucky x fem!reader

Note: Absolutely borrowed the concept of Ranger Bucky and serving girl reader from @witchywithwhiskey's LOTR masterlist. Obsessed.

Warnings: Minor mentions of casual groping, nothing else I don't think

You stacked another plate and then precariously balanced the last three glasses on your tray before carefully winding your way through the crowded tavern. It had been a busier night than you all had expected. A major part of the bridge had broken down just before sunset and with no other options but to stay in town, you had gathered double the number of patrons you were expecting. In addition to the spring festival starting up in a few days, every table, chair, barstool, and vague standing area had been occupied.

You dropped off the stack in the kitchen, where two of the tavern owner’s children were cleaning up in a large tub that was being constantly refilled. The tavern itself only had a few regular workers, never quite meant for a crowd this large unexpectedly. Both cooks and all four serving girls were run down as soon as the bridge crashed.

“We need two more orders of stew and bread!” You called over your shoulder already on your way out to get more orders and dishes. A number of the tables had been pushed aside to accommodate space for dancing. It was lively and full of laughter and it made it impossible not to smile while hollering across tables to catch people’s orders. Thankfully you had reached the part of the evening where most of the orders were ale or spirits, and you gratefully poured drink after drink, serving them to already half drunk dancers.

You watched the dancers wistfully, wondering what your own dance partner was doing now. You’d met James Barnes entirely by accident on his first passing through the town. His horse had been eating the flowers growing in your window box and when he knocked to apologize it was as if you’d both fallen in love at first glance. He had stayed in town days longer than he should have, and had to ride nearly non-stop for days to make it to the post he was headed for in time, but he came back as soon as he had been relieved to see you and on and on for the last three years. You never knew when he would be back, just that he always would.

You switched off with the tavern owner’s husband, picking up his place behind the bar to pour ales and collect coins along with Lyddie, who had arrived in town just a few weeks before to pick up any work she could ahead of the festival. Good timing for her too.

“There’s a man in the corner who’s been staring at you for far too long,” she said into your ear as you poured another ale and slid it across the bar for a copper piece. The man slid you three instead and winked. You worked hard not to roll your eyes as you tucked the extra coins into your pocket.

“Probably just another one of the band’s troop hoping to get their hands to less use.” The night before there had been a caravan full of young men on their way to perform at tomorrow’s opening day. Two of them had gotten handsy enough that some of the local men had tossed them out to the street. They had gotten a stern talking to by the troop leader, a bard who had come around before and was well respected, and both boys had sulked back in the morning to apologize for their actions. Boys never learned till they had been beat over the head.

“Perhaps. He looks alone though.” You carried on pouring and accepting coin into a safebox, smiling at the odd woman or two who pushed her way through the crowd for another drink. For the most part the women dancing with the men from out of town were locals in it for a joke or a fun night.

A whole cohort of the girls who weren’t supposed to technically be “women” till the weekend’s festival had arrived full of giggles and flowers in their hair and you and Lyddie were quickly tasked with keeping an eye on them. Which of course meant accepting a few dances of your own, but only with the practical men of the town who joked with you nightly and always slipped a couple silvers in your hands.

It wasn’t long before the girls had tired out and decided to rest at a table, and during a break in the music you overheard them.

“He’s been staring at the dancefloor.”

“Maybe he fancies one of us.”

“He must be a ranger, did you see how he’s dressed, and so mysterious!” The word ranger sent you spinning, following their eyeline to the corner where Lyddie had vaguely pointed before. There was a man, certainly a ranger, sitting in the shadows of the corner of the darkened windows. For a moment you couldn’t be certain, but he leaned forward so his blue eyes caught the light. He quirked his eyebrow, the ghost of a smile appearing across his lips. You nearly yelped out loud, ignoring the cries of the dancers you knocked out of the way, sailing into Bucky’s waiting arms.

“I hope you don’t react like that for all the strange men sitting in corners,” he whispered into your ear, holding you tight in his arms.

“You’ve been sat there all night and didn’t say a word?” You exclaimed, pulling back from him so you could hit him in the chest and get a better look at him. His hair had grown long as had his beard. Yet his blue eyes were shining bright with a grin just for you. The whole room had faded for a moment, but a whoop and it restarted in overwhelming song. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a purple flower, a little bit crushed but it meant everything to you just the same. He tucked it behind your ear.

“A dance, my beautiful flower?”

“How could I ever refuse.” A dance turned to two, and the tavern owner all but shooed the two of you out the door with the promise that you would be back in the morning to make up any hours. She had dismissed you with a huff and told Bucky he should keep you away under all circumstances.

“Titan!” The horse was just as happy to see you as you were to see him, and practically led his own way to your small cottage once Bucky lifted you up into the saddle. He climbed up behind you, warm body pressed to your back, holding you tightly at the waist as he told you of the last many moons of adventures he had. He had been everything but bored it seemed.

“And you? What exciting times have been had here?”

“Oh, the bridge falling has been the most excitement in weeks. For a few days the river was frozen enough to walk on, but nothing else has been quite as remarkable as seeing you.” He laughed, the rumble in his chest warming you more than his cloak draped around the both of you and you leaned back closing your eyes and enjoying the absolutely safety in his arms.

“I’m certain that’s false. What of the baker’s daughter? Did she actually go to Gondor? And the new butcher shop! I saw it on my way to the Three Horseshoes. Joseph could not have enjoyed that.” You felt silly telling him the trivial happenings of your small town, but he listened avidly, engaging where he could and ensuring he had all the details to fit back into your life for however much longer he had here with you. By the time Titan had stopped to eat flowers from your window box, Bucky was laughing, sliding down and catching you in his arms as you completed the tale of pulling the Blacksmith from the well down the hill near the town square.

He frowned when you were suddenly serious after he cleaned up Titan in the barn.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“You’ll be gone again soon, won’t you? War brewing in the East, raids in the south. You can’t have much time here at all.” A sad smile overtook his frown, and Bucky pulled you close, pushing your hair away so he could rest his hand on you cheek.

“I know not how long I can stay with you, but I do know that I will spend every moment of it with you, present and attention all for you.” You accepted his solemn promise with a long kiss, his hand pressing your lips close and his arm holding your bodies closer.

“And I will start with all my attention on you as soon as we get inside.”

#charliewrites #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #lord of the rings au

41 notes · View notes

ramcharantitties · 3 months

Text

Yes, Officer

Part-1

S/n: I'm sorry for this week old fic but here's the first part. I didn't know if this was good enough to post but I didn't want to go ia, so. Hope you like it <3

Angel stared out the window, the falling autumn leaves setting hopelessness in her heart. Nothing would help these days, the growing anxiety taking over everything in her mind. She was too young to be this stressed, only in her 20's, yet the weight crushing her shoulders was leaving her crying at odd hours.

"My daughter must be the next to reign the empire of Delhi", her father's words never left her mind, engraved like hot iron on a child's skin. Delhi, the bustling city felt more developed in the last decade than ever. Angel wondered if Delhi was teasing her too, telling her she wasn't apt enough to rule a city. With the oncoming opportunities, came oncoming threats- both to Delhi and her throne.

No matter what she said, this decision was strictly taken by her parent's old advisor- who often acted like your guardian. Dada didn't pester, the stubborn man in his 60's, ready to stab everyone in sight ever since the incident. There were oppositions who believed you were not the correct choice for the throne- but your father knew better. To burden young shoulders for the people than to wait for a messiah, if he comes. She laid back on the chair, sighing. They must be here anytime.

When Angel's dinner was poisoned two days back, her first thought was what her parents must think when she finally died. Would they be proud, or still love her as their daughter, or they wouldn't care, that she was a disappointment? Eventually a servant was passing by, at such ungodly hour, that saved Angel. She was rewarded with a prize money worth 500 Rs. Ever since, Dada made a decision that a trained police officer, from the Indian Imperial Army must serve as your personal bodyguard for the next three months, until the next ruler of Delhi is decided. Angel made protests, proposed questions, and shared information against the decision but everything was futile. She finally slumped down, agreeing.

A whole human, trained, with potential- just to protect you? It seemed insensible. That man could probably save crowds of innocent people, or punish troops of criminal but he would just stand here, making sure if she had enough water or not. Angel held her head in her hands. She was happy in the back of her mind.

Ever since the parental figures disappeared, Angel only faced manipulation and mistrust in her life. It felt like a sin to make friends, to drink freely or enter crowds. And now that the election days are coming closer, she felt trapped in herself. Every single movement was noticed, and most likely followed. A bodyguard didn't sound half bad.

Angel could hear the frequent words of Dada down the hall, followed by another pair of steps. She stood up, quickly, smoothing out her dress. A firm knock on her door echoed. "Angel?" Dada called out, impatiently waiting. She opened the door of the room, moving away to let the guest enter. A man in his brown uniform entered, almost three inches taller than her when she was in heels. He smelt good. Angel stood behind them as Dada explained everything to him. From the back of his head, he looked strong and firm. Angel cocked an eyebrow. After all, why would a trained police officer agree to a job like this?

"Angel?" Dada called out again, his hand reaching where she stood. Angel pranced forward, to face them. If this was her bodyguard, she was in a trouble. His chest buffed out, his eyesight peeking over her. Handlebar moustache and long eyelashes. His upper lip was hidden by the hair, his beard clean shaved. Angel gulped, leaning on the table. She did not expect him to have such an effect on her. Angel, busy staring at the man, missed most of the details Dada dictated to him. She leant closer to him. "A. Ramaraju" she muttered to herself, before going back in her position so they wouldn't notice. Well, nothing misses from his eyes. Her eyes, finally turned to the elder guardian.

"This gentleman is your bodyguard. He's a strict police officer and he will be checking everything, from what you eat and drink, where you go, everything. Once the elections are over, you will have a team of bodyguards anyways. But he should be enough for now". Soon, Dada left, and the police officer made himself comfortable in front of her table.

"I don't expect you to be so formal with me" Angel looked at him up and down. "I am solely here for my job, ma'am" Ramaraju's voice had a dusky yet chocolaty tone. It was heavy, but not harsh. "Please introduce yourself" Angel sat her hip on the edge of the table. "Alluri Ramaraju, police officer in India-" "I know that" Angel interrupted the man. His gaze still hasn't lowered down to her, but he could see the diary in her hands. "You have, single handedly, caught a wanted person in a riot with almost the population of a town. And you injured many others. And this is the only most recent news of you, I can skip through various others" Angel peered up at him. "Are you going to tell me why you are really here?" "It has nothing to do with this job" Ramaraju's posture didn't budge. The stoic man, still as a statue.

Angel sighed, getting up. "I don't need a bodyguard" she stepped forward, taking a closer look at him. He smelt really, good. "You must talk to the-" "I don't need to talk to anyone" Angel said, trying to match his eye level. He wouldn't. "You're going to submit a report tomorrow that says how you don't want this duty and want to be back in the field. Is that clear?" Ram didn't answer, neither move. He stared straight ahead, unbothered. Angel took that as an acceptance, might as well be a surprise. "You may leave now" Angel went back to her work, sitting on the table, as Ram turned around and marched out of the room. That was the last of him she saw that day.

____________________________

Tagging: @ramayantika @yehsahihai @vijayasena @raat-baaki @nerdreader @panikk-attackkk @jkdaddy01

#ghungru #ram charan #rrr #rrr movie #desi tag #fanfic #ram x reader #ram x wife!reader #rambheem #rrr tarak charan #yes officer

29 notes · View notes

hcdragonwrites · 10 months

Text

Letters (a @journey-to-the-au Drabble)

I made another thing (yeah I couldn’t help myself but this one is shorter I think. I hope you like it!) I just. Brain fire.

Inspired by <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/journey-to-the-au/722003448742248448/may-we-hear-about-the-yaogui-attack-0-apologies" >This Post </a>

(Also I suck at linking things I’m so sorry.)

Liu crossed out the line on the parchment before him, splashing ink onto the stone beneath his feet in an frustrated spray.

“No that doesn’t sound right either!” He gritted his teeth, growing frustrated. General Liu, one of the Four great Generals of Flower- Fruit mountain and friend to its King Sun Wukong, had a dilemma.

He set the brush down, still getting used to holding it in his hands. Wukong makes this look so easy! But things of the unmonkey nature came easily to Wukong- how could they not ? He had mastered the mysterious arts that had given him such power, had defeated the demon who had first claimed Water- Curtain Cave in his absence (and more beside.) Wukong had walked among the men of the world and had claimed treasure from dragons.

Wukong would be able to hold a brush with ease and write words with a steady hand. The general tugged at his fur and looked about himself. Rolls of parchment lay about him like discarded rinds of watermelons. All the failed attempts to transcribe what his heart was trying to speak. He tugged more, hairs coming free.

When Wukong spoke of his experience in the world abroad their mountain, he had mentioned how the important people within that strange world of mortals and immortals would communicate through scrolls and parchment.

“It was too quiet at times for my liking!” He reminisced once, splashing some wine as he gesticulated upon his throne. “What silence! What needed to be written that couldn’t be communicated with a clear voice?” He would then call for one of the troop of his subjects to retell a story, for Wukong loved the telling of a yarn through voice and act.

Liu had understood why one would want words written down however. The things he wanted to say- to tell- either fled him like mist before the sun or stuck in his throat like a peach stone. The Marshal scratched behind his ear, brushing the notched edge and remembering. Remembering her.

Rin Rin.

Liu had never been one for such deep hesitation as he was now. In all the Aolai country, among and betwixt the unicorns and the phoenixes who preened and called themselves the most beautiful, where the leopards and the tigers roamed and boasted their own majesty, Liu had faced all that threatened his home with bravery. He loved this mountain, from every blade of grass to every luminous stone deep in Water-Curtain Cave. He thought none of the beasts or birds or celestial bodies in Heaven was more beautiful than his home.

Except Her.

He wanted to tell her. Tell Rin Rin how she rivaled all the clouds in heaven for her softness. How no flower could compare to her eyes and how they shined like the sea when the sun hit it. Her smile could make the trees cry and her anger could chase the stripes off a tiger.

Liu was afraid. Not afraid of her. Afraid to miss this opportunity! His tail lashed and sent a bit of paper skittering over the stone floor, knocking into several stone bowls of almonds.

The mountain was a paradise. The waterfall that crashed beyond, the pine forests that dotted the slopes where their needles spiced the air. He had faced tigers and demons, fought and thrown himself into situation after situation of danger without a second thought for himself.

Now he was hesitant. He acted as he had on that day Wukong had found Water- Curtain cave: hesitant. Marshal Liu had not been hesitant since that time- so why had he returned to this state ?

Liu looked down at the paper and groaned.

“I just want to tell her how beautiful she is…”

Steps approached from outside Liu’s room.

“So this is where you’ve been!” Wukong called, stepping into the room with a frown on his face. “I have been waiting for you in the Throne room for hours! Sentries have spotted what look to be the makings of a camp. We have a troop of creatures lurking in the shadow of our mountain and I need my Generals— what is all this stuff ?”

Liu didn’t bother to cover up his failings- he just lay his head on the stone table and glared at the brush.

“You only called for a meeting a few minutes ago, my king.” He replied from the table.

“Minutes- hours. It has been too long! What have you been up to in here?”Wukong picked up a paper scroll, the feathered crown on his head bobbing.

“You are as pretty as a … hmm. You never finished this one Liu!”

Liu moved his face to flatten into the stone table, feeling his cheeks burn and his ears itch. Of course my king would start reading them.

Shuffling paper noises sounded again as Wukong picked another scroll up.

“My heart becomes a candle when you are near—“ he frowned. “You crossed out the rest in a mess of black.”

Liu wished he could dissolve into the stone.

“You smell as sweet as a magnolia flower- your eyes are the shape of stars —“

“Please My King.” He begged. “Spare me.”

“You wrote them Liu! I am only reading.”

“And I ask for mercy, please.”

“Seems you’ve had trouble finishing whatever you were trying to say.” Mused the Sage.

“None of the words formed well enough on the paper.” Marshal Liu sighed. There came a shuffle and a brush beside him. He lifted his head to see Wukong had crossed his legs beside him, a shoulder companionably against Lius. The Monkey King twirled the brush between his fingers, unrolling a new scroll of parchment.

“If I help you Write your love poem to Rin, Will you stop mooning so sadly ?” Wukong cocked a brow at his general, side eyeing him in a way only a friend could.

Marshal Liu felt his pride pricked, just a bit. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liu- you have been my friend for countless years. Longer than most monkeys usually live.” Wukong dipped the brush into the inkwell, checking the ink stone and grimacing at its diminished size. “I know you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your fur. We have fought and bled side by side. You may be a master at strategy and planning but. My friend.”

Wukong turned his whole face to stare at Liu. “You suck at hiding how in love you are with Rin Rin.”

The Marshal sat up, opened his mouth to defend, to deflect —

Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, waited. His face set in a neutral and very are you really going to argue with me? expression.

Liu closed his mouth, tugged at his fur and set his chin on the stone table. “She makes me feel so—-“

“Mhm.”

“She’s so—!”

“Mhm…”

“I just can’t get the words out!” The Marshal admitted finally. “Each time I start to tell her, I freeze. I’ve tried so many times!”

When Rin and He had shared a sweet patch of strawberries he had tried to say how he loved her.

When Rin had been tending to a scratch on his face, chiding and reprimanding him for his recklessness again. Her anger had made him want to hold her and reassure her that he was fine.

When they had decided to stay out late, tails curled together as they counted the stars. Liu had wanted to compare her to each one.

And each of these times his words had either fled him or had refused to come out.

“And you thought to write them out because they keep getting stuck.”

Liu nodded.

“Give me the words and I’ll write them down.” Wukong set the tip, ready. “If I write this for you, then will come and put your mind back to keeping our mountain safe?”

Guilt itched beneath his fur. “My King i'm sorry—“

A affectionate rub of Wukongs head against his own shut the general up as the king tugged at his ear in play.

“Liu. I may not understand the power of what you are feeling,” Wukong cut off, tail thumping against the Marshals “but that doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t important. And … seeing you so distressed makes me distressed. I can help my friend in this simple task at least.”

Liu felt a warmth well from him. For all his Kings boasting and prideful proclamations, Wukong cared for each of his subjects - even in the face of his incomprehension. He would do what he could to ease his friends, his subjects, his families struggles. Wukong began to write as Liu began to speak, his face warm and his hands slowly beginning uncurl from his fur.

After just an hour with Wukongs transcribing and Liu describing, the confession was complete. Liu clutched the scroll and strapped it to his side.

He had been able to attend the Council with a lighter heart and a smile on his face. The discussion and the plans to increase patrols along the pine forest to the west of Flower Fruit Mountain had been unanimously agreed upon as the troubling information came to light.

The scouts' reports had indicated that there had been activity - a half made campfire kicked over and cold with bones from what looked like a small deer- not a few leaps and bounds from the slopes. Liu had frowned at the description of the tracks- five footed, fur and the scent of musk in the air. Another band of Monkeys … but they seem to be scouting us as well.

When Liu had this brought to attention, an immediate patrol had been sent out to gain more information on how many may be circling their home. The unspoken kept being danced around but all in that council chamber had a suspicion. Demon Monkeys….

Until they knew further who and what they were facing, Wukong wouldn’t risk a war troop to prowl the nearby hills and leave the rest of his family and people exposed.

Liu had a bit of time beneath the growing moon of night to find Rin Rin now. Before his nerves left him. Wukongs handwriting had made the words look better, flow better, feel better to the Marshals eyes. His King had sat through his flowery language, and had written it all diligently if with a little bit of snorting at times. (“Don’t compare her to pine nuts!” “But she smells of the pines and the wood and everything I love!” “…. But pine nuts ?”)

If his words failed him, Liu had them written down. If they stuck in his throat, he could pull them apart with the help of his letter. His heart was thumping, his fur was sticking out a bit as electric nerves rolled on his skin. Liu was in full armor having come from council, and it jangled softly in the night air. But it was a comforting jangle- a separate staccato rhythm against his body.

As the moon rose outside of Water-Curtain Cave casting the spray in silver light, Liu gazed out. Some other monkeys mingled in the cooling air enjoying the clear night. Tending to loved ones by either grooming fur, sharing ripening fruits from the many orchards across the vast mountain, or cuddling down in the soft grasses to gaze upward. Liu greeted each in turn, butting heads or brushing hands. Pride welled in him, making Liu stand taller. This was his home- his family. The peace they lived in was hard won and protected by their King and his Marshals- and that peace was precious.

A small bundle of babes shot past, one carrying a lychee fruit as a prize to be kept from the others. A pair of older simians gazed into the waters of the pool, leaning into each other. Liu would fight a thousand demons, all the celestial beings in the world, to keep this peace. He would tame dragons and pull the moon down from its boughs in Heaven to preserve this peace.

Liu turned, green eyes seeking. There, just beneath the pomegranate tree overlooking a mossy spray of water, he spotted the cloud gray of Rin Rin. Even in the shadow of the tree he could see her moon flower perched behind her ear, the fur perfectly groomed in wonderous swirls. He wished he had a bouquet of moonflowers to bring her or a cup of tea to present to her. He wanted to come bearing gifts and to tend and tidy her hair and weave flowers throughout it.

He came bearing his heart instead.

Said heart thumped against his chest. Steady Liu.

Liu took a moment to groom his finger through his fur, his tail, and to dust at his armor. He grabbed at a small patch of pine needles, snapping them between fingers and briefly rubbing the tips over his fur. He wanted to look his best to smell his best to be his best.

Then, gathering himself and tapping the scroll's top at his hip, Liu straightened and stepped forward.

He would tell her how much she meant to him. He would show her how much she was worth to him- between the words he had been able to wrangle and place onto a page.

Liu would never get the chance to unwind that scroll however. The night air that had been full of gentle chatter and warm conversation was broken by screams as the mountain's peace was shattered into a thousand screams of fury and fear rang off the mountain.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #I Hope you like it !#this was a bit more difficult because I kept looking at RinRin and Liu art of him giving her his cape flower #like. it kept melting my heart #very dialogue heavy #Marshal Liu is a boy with heart eyes for only one girl #rin rin #jttw au #jttw monkey king #for journey to the au #this one may not be my best only because I wanted to write more but I didn’t want to imped on what was already created #I Like filling in the blanks inbetween because it’s fun to make connections #drabble stuff #I may have made Liu a bit too obsessed with pine needles #had to pull down my big old Journey to the West book to see how many fruits and details they list for Flower fruit mountain #THEY HAVE A LOT OF FRUIT WTF I DONT REMEMBER IT FROM THE FIRST TIME READING #but again that was years ago #I’m reading a shorter version and then will be diving into that four book translation #this was fun to write because I was able to take from the book itself to give dimension to the mountain #I love adding dimension and culture to writing it jsut makes me want to go there and see and touch and feel and smell everything #if you need me to edit anything I can do it though! like if I didn’t get yer boy right I don’t mind fixing it !#hcfanfics

68 notes · View notes