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tadc-harlequin-au · 9 months ago

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Harlequin AU - "Stalemate" (canon, fic)

This is a wip art! It will be updated in the future.

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One step.

Leather shoes made their way on uneven grounds.

The crinkling of glass underneath the soles made their way prominent to the stepper’s ears, but she couldn’t care less.

This was the last known location of the man she’d been tracking for a while now. And this is the moment of truth. Did she still got it? Or will she fall as a trophy on a mantle?

Time to find out.

Squeaks of a rusty metal gate aired out into the open, gathering the attention of a few unwanted pests. But in quick succession, they were no more, swiftly falling prey to the sharp blade of the Puppet. There was not even a chance for them to strike.

Satisfied with her work, she straddles into the grounds of the mansion. First, the gardens.

One could say it was a serene scene, but for her it was a mere distraction. Unimportant. Simply delaying the inevitable.

She steps out into the lush open grass of the area. A huge empty space filled with nothing but prickly green underneath the blue hues of the night. She found amusement in the fact that there’s a chance she can ruin this place once she meets her opponent.

A lone, mossy fountain sat on the front. Not interesting.

She makes her way onto the stairs of the mansion entrance. Each step fills her with more vigor, excitement coursing through her being. The giant, elegant oak door groaned in protest as she pushed it open.

Empty.

No matter, there were many rooms.

She quickly hears the puttering sound of rotor blades spinning, and she looks to her right, finding a mini-blimp with a literal sharp smile, and a vacant expression on it’s glossy eyes.

“Hellloooooo,” it said, dragging the last syllable playfully, “Can I help you with anything?” The blimp asked with not a care in the world.

“I’m looking for someone.” The Puppet claims, pulling out a parchment of a wanted poster. It was useless to waste her energy on this… creature. So she will entertain it’s questions for now.

“Oh! You’re looking for the boss! I’ll lead you to him!” The blimp confirms her suspicions.

He was in this place, and she’d successfully tracked her target down. Now all that was needed was proof of her soon-to-be victory. It was only by a few rooms that she’d found him.

But the sight wasn’t as grand as she envisioned.

She expected a confident, prideful, and powerful fighter….

NOT whatever this mess who’s currently laying on the ground and leaning deactivated against an office desk was. WHAT THE FUCK.

Did she seriously come all this way for nothing?! She felt a little furious, and she redirected her burning gaze onto the blimp, grasping tightly onto the sword and pointing it’s sharp end with malice. The Blimp did not seem to react at her wordless threat at all, still flashing a sharp smile as it slowly turned to face her.

“EXPLAIN.” She demanded. “HE CAN’T BE ALREADY DEACTIVATED.”

“Oh, this is just something that happens allllll the time. Give him a little time.” The Blimp answered, and turned it’s attention back to 'the boss'. She kicked a leg, no response.

“Let me try!” The Blimp says, and with a clearing of it’s throat, it shouts. “BOSS! Someone’s here to see you!”

And in an instant, the exposed chest of the man lit up in two separate hues, and he sits up straight as if plunged underwater for long.

“GAH! WHA- WHO IS IT!” He yelps in surprise, holding a glass bottle by it’s neck as if ready to throw. His shocked gaze soon falls on…. To the Harlequin, who unveils her tattered covers protecting her from outside elements, and reveals her face.

“Puppetmaster. I’ve come to challenge you.”

He blinks a couple of times with wide eyes, and his stare keeps shifting from the blimp, to her, and then repeat. After a while, his gaze falters and an unimpressed groan escapes the strange Puppet across from her. “Not again…” He mutters under his breath. "Bubble, what did I tell you about letting people you don't know in?"

...Not again?

“Wh- What do you mean “not again”- This is the FIRST time I’ve come here!” She replied, and the Puppetmaster only crosses his arms as soon as he manages to get up on two feet.

“And it certainly won’t be the LAST, I see.” He shuffles away, the metal cane tapping to the marble ground with each step he took, and the Harlequin is left utterly confused. She grumpily follows him to the main lounge, ready to demand once more.

“Are you fucking deaf or what? I said I’ve come to challenge you!”

“Not interested.” He feels around in a bookshelf, pulling out a rather large tome. He opens it and retrieves a bottle full of liquid.

He was really testing her patience, huh?

As soon as he turns around, The Harlequin makes quick work of slicing the bottle in half just to show how serious she is. The glass quickly detaches, and the liquid spills onto the floor, leaving the Puppetmaster with an unamused, disappointed stare.

“.... That was the last of it’s kind, by the way. You just killed off one of my favorite drinks” He replies with a hint of unserious humor, and it makes her teeth grit in frustration.

“I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I GET WHAT I FUCKING CAME FOR!” She angrily responds. “So you either stop with your shit and fight me, OR ELSE.” She points the sword straight at his core, and the pair of dentures simply rolls his eye to the side, and pushes the blade away.

“Hmm. You know, for a moment, I really thought you were different.” He drops to the floor and detaches a tile after tapping at a seemingly hollow tile with the cane, revealing yet another hidden compartment full of unknown bottles. He sticks his tongue out a little as he reaches for them, but as soon as one was retrieved, The Harlequin repeats the same action as before, as well as shattering the other bottles within.

He blinks once, then twice. “Can you stop wasting the only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off of the deep end, pretty please?” He pleads, but it’s completely devoid of sincerity.

She growls, and grabs his collar. He is slightly surprised, but quickly goes back to his uncaring attitude while staring at her grip. “Umm… Normally I would not mind the touch, but you’re wrinkling my shirt.” His carefree attitude was picking at her nerves, and she bares her sharp teeth at him. His eyes widen a little, but it’s clearly not from fear.

He shakes it off, and squints at her humorlessly, unfazed by the threat.

“I am not repeating myself again, Puppetmaster. FIGHT. ME.” There’s a surprising yet subtle hint of desperation in her tone, but it was heavily masked by her aggressive tone and he finds himself disgruntled at his own thoughts.

He sighs.

“I don’t see a point in accepting that offer from a rookie like you, who doesn’t seem to know what fights they wanna pick… But fine.” He relents, “I’ll entertain you a little. I’d rather not cause more mess than usual for my little helper, though. All I ask is that we pick a different location.”

She was a little insulted at the term he had called her. But she swallowed her pride down in favor of the fact that he was finally agreeing to the duel. “Very well then.” She lets go of the collar. “I’m fine with any location of your choosing.”

“Much appreciated, dear. I know an abandoned circus arena that is ideal for this.” He taps his cane to the ground, in contemplation.

“In fact… I think you might like it as much as I do.”

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It wasn’t the walk towards this “arena” that was agonizing.

But rather the wait she had to comply with if she wanted his participation. Nonetheless, he parts the curtains that cover the entrance, but she only crosses her arms and taps her foot. She was antsy, and his stare was questioning.

“You… won’t go first?”

“Why would I? You’re leading the way.” She replies in clear annoyance.

His gaze shifts to the entrance, trying not to be bothered about this as he makes his way inside. As soon as the Harlequin makes her way inside, spotlights let out a loud click as they all simultaneously turn on, all shining at the sand-filled arena slightly damaged by time… or something else entirely.

There’s a little prickling feeling that settles in her chest, and she can sense her core thrum in dissonance. But she doesn’t understand it, so naturally, she shrugs it off as if it never existed.

The Puppetmaster has had his back turned against her all this time. His head hung low, as if staring into the very ground. But she simply clutches at her sword with her left arm, the grip making a loud metallic clunk. He taps his cane to the ground, and it echoes throughout the tent despite the consistency of the very plane they stand on.

“Are you ready?” His voice, despite them being meters apart, is loud, bold and clear.

She grips her sword harder, unsheathing a little. Her right feet drags across the ground, an obvious stance of preparation before the action.

His eyes are hidden, depriving her of reading his full intent once he turns to face his opponent. Nonetheless, she squints, wordlessly giving him her answer.

The cane taps onto the ground yet again, and she rushes like a cobra. There’s a faint hum of voices in the background but she can’t decipher it.

Distractions.

That was all it is.

And a fighter does NOT get distracted.

She unsheathes the sword fully, ready to lunge as soon as she was close enough. A battle cry escapes her as she swings at the sudden cloud of dust that appeared in front of her.

“Slow.”

He easily avoids the swing, and she barely has a second to react at the speed of his movements, finding herself stumbling. Utterly confused, she quickly turns around to face where he had gone. He was now in the middle of the arena, side-eyeing her with interest that she interprets as complete mockery.

She clutches the sword with both hands and another battle scream erupts from her. He grips at his cane harder, eyes once more hidden as his jaws snap shut in focus. She leaps into the air to bring down a hard slash, but his cane blocks her attempt, and it results in sparks flying from the exertion of force between both parties.

The Puppetmaster quickly ends this standstill by pushing her back, making her feet drag across the ground from the force by a mile.

“...Yet adept form.” He comments, squinting his eyes at her.

She wipes away at her face, just in case. Her posture straightens in confusion, but it is quickly taken over by anger. “YOU ASSHAT, STOP OBSERVING ME AND FIGHT!” a complain, but her expression changes to confusion once more as he disappears in a cloud of dust from her sight.

Where the FUCK did he go NOW?!

His form appears out of nowhere. Looming over. His eyes are devoid of pupils, and for a moment, she finds herself stuttering.

“H-HOLD ON W-WA-WAIT JUST A SECOND!”

There was no time for waiting in a duel of course, but it slipped from her mouth before she could even think about it fully. She could only assume that he was disorienting her, and it was working effectively.

His cane twirls on his hand, and he uses the other end of the metal rod to push her to bend backwards, just to avoid the flaring poke of electricity surging through the cane. There was no time for the Harlequin to get back up, and she cursed herself for making rookie mistakes, and proving his words right.

What was wrong with her today, of all days?

He sweeps her legs, knocking her off-balance down to the ground, but her athletic build allowed for a very quick recovery, and she was back to steadying her stance again.

“Fascinating. What an impressive reflex. You have a fast recovery.”

The Puppetmaster seems to be taking notes of her actions, and it was then that she realizes he was simply toying with her.

“Maybe this could work… Hm.”

Her sword drops to the ground a loud clank, which forces his gaze to look up at her. But it was too late.

A very hard kick met his face and he barely had the reaction time for it. He could feel the blow produce a gust of wind as he flew to the old safety bleachers (much to it’s destruction), and a loud crack permeated the air as one of his teeth flew off and broke in half.

A heavy cloud of yellow dust hid him from the view of the fuming Harlequin.

He rises up, seemingly unaffected until he reaches to check at the loss of a denticle. A black substance covered his gloves’ fingertips. His gaze once more lands on the Harlequin, who is now emitting visible hot steam from her body, breathing heavily as her eyes shone brightly with the intent of murder.

“I’ve HAD it up to HERE, with your STUPID ANTICS!” She stepped a foot onto the ground, and the cement underneath the sand crumbled. The lights slowly flickered in response, and his eyes widens in alert.

Uh oh. This was not good. The fight needs to be ended as fast as possible now.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to a duel.” He clutches at his cane for support as he stands up undamaged (besides the lost tooth), but lets go of it as soon as it’s job is complete.

If she won’t possess a weapon, then it wouldn’t be right for him to possess his either.

Both of them rushed at each other in high feats of speed, and a small crater was created as a proof of the intensity of the hit. When the Harlequin would deliver a punch, a dense gust of wind would be produced as the Puppetmaster blocked each time.

There was now more steam emitting from her body, and the clock was ticking. He had no choice.

With a revenge kick to her torso that she blocks with both arms, he sends her flying to where she had previously dropped her sword, as he rushes to his own “weapon” of choice too.

She grabbed at the sword and rushed.

He grabbed his cane and did the same.

The speed executed between both parties was unmatched, and a heavy cloud was produced for the last time in the middle of the arena as both fighters collided their weapons.

Their gazes were intense, the Harlequin smiling when she pointed her sword directly at his core. But the blue light emitting from the Puppetmaster’s cane made her look down to where it was pointed.

It was also at her core.

Satisfied with the way the Harlequin stopped fighting out of slight confusion, he opts to explain the current situation.

“Now, you can pry open my core and deactivate me just as easily,” he starts. “... But if you so much as move the required centimeter to do so, the tip of my cane will touch your core which will shock your heart with the amount of electricity that can power 5 large cities.”

Her eyes widened.

“We’re both made of metal. How the fuck are you going to defend yourself from this?!”

“I won’t.”

It was a simple statement that made the Harlequin realize what he’s doing. “Do you have a shitty death wish or something? That’s crazy! There’s no way you can produce that much charge either, you’re just fucking bluffing!”

“Am I, now?” There was not a hint of humor nor sarcasm in his tone. He was dead serious.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

“We’re at a stalemate, dear.” She gripped the handle of her sword with much intensity, baring her teeth in frustration and denial.

“This fight is over.” He proclaims no winners, and the Harlequin begins to kick the remaining sand in the arena all around, throwing a temper tantrum.

“NO!” She shouted while gripping at her head, uncaring of the noise. “NO, NO, NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END THIS WAY! YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, YOU-” Her joints stopped responding to her actions, and she finds herself kneeling onto the ground. Horror filled her entire system as she tried to decipher what’s happening, but before she knew it, All she could see now was the tattered, faded yellow-red stripes of the tent ceiling.

And then the view of his stupid dentures face came into her sight, and he was back to observing her again.

“You’re still functional, are you?”

“UNFORTUNATELY.” She grit her teeth.

“Hm.” An acknowledgement.

She could hear the way he takes a seat onto the ground beside her.

“You’re quite an odd one.”

“CAN YOU STOP TALKING.”

“Hm….” He contemplates. “No, I don’t think I will~.” There’s a smug pitch in his tone (that would’ve made a vein pop somewhere in her head if she was organic). “You’re the first sane Puppet I’ve talked to in a long while.”

… Was this somehow some kind of cruel punishment?

“Just let your body cool down and re-adjust for now. You really pushed yourself back there.” She couldn’t exactly tell what he was doing, but if the slightly muffled way of speaking was any indication, she could only assume he was checking his now missing tooth.

But that wasn’t what grabbed the Harlequin’s attention. Rather, she was slightly intrigued about how he knows what’s happened to her, when she didn’t.

“What are you even talking about? What’s happened to me?” She asked, temper slowly subsiding, although irritation was still present.

“What’s happened is that you accidentally began to overcharge yourself.” He was more than glad to explain. “Your body couldn’t keep up with the amount of energy spent, and now here you are, lying down on the ground.” He taps at the sand above her head with the golden sphere of his cane. “You also nearly overheated that you could’ve exploded your core. But you can’t feel that, can you?”

She sighs. “Of course I fucking don’t. I’m a Puppet. I don’t feel things, I just do things. At least that’s what I think I should be doing.”

There was a moment of silence between them, one that the Harlequin was more than glad to have. But almost as if being mocked by timing, this quiet was broken by the voice of Puppetmaster once more.

“What’s your directive.”

“Fight SOMETHING, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Tell me your FULL directive. I don’t want a summarized version.”

She sighs again. “FIND— FIGHT— PROTECT—- CITY—- FROM HARM.” There was a slight pause and a bit of glitching in her voice when she recited the blanks.

“…Well, I must say, this is quite the predicament.”

“Can you stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell me?!”

“... You’re broken.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“An incomplete line of command. It’s making you act on your own." He explains. "For shorter terms, you’re a loose cannon.” He mutters something else under his breath that the Harlequin couldn’t hear, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable tone with his delivery that she can’t decipher.

“Wha… what the hell does any of that mumbo jumbo even mean…” She would drag her hand across her face if she could right about now.

“Say, how would you feel about an alliance?”

“I feel like punching another one of your teeth out, that’s for sure.”

“I’m flattered, but also serious. You and I are quite possibly the only Puppets left sane here in this world. And I have an idea that I can only really do with YOUR help.”

“I’m not fucking interested in your passion project.”

“Your purpose seems to say otherwise.”

Her brow creases. “What, are you gonna say it involves fighting something?”

“Not just that. It’s also to protect this city from further harm.” Now that got her attention. She’s cautious, but in all honesty, also intrigued.

“We can discuss this even further once you’re all good to go. But for now…” He trails off as he stands up, and she can finally move a little bit of her joints on her fingers. Her body was seemingly cooling down to allow slight movements again.

“My name is Caine. Do you have a name?” For a moment, she senses a foreign bit of deja vu.

“... Just the code on my shoulder.”

“What is it?”

“P-1210.”

“Well, I can’t be calling you that. How about a proper one?”

“Whatever knocks your socks off, I guess.”

“ ‘Pomni’. What about ‘Pomni’. ”

There’s a response at her core that she couldn’t fully understand. But it seems that it wants her to agree.

“... Sure, I-I…I guess.”

“Pomni it is.”

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#tadc #tadc au #harlequin au #tadc harlequin au #the amazing digital circus #pomni #caine #pomni x caine #caine x pomni #tadc caine x pomni #showtime ship #showtime shipping #tadc showtime #showtime tadc #tw violence #tw injury #tw alcohol

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the-kr8tor · 2 months ago

Note

Katy 👀 my birthday is coming up soon

May I request our baby Kitt being older and getting ready to address some politicians at a televised town meeting or rally and just inadvertently roasting the hell out of them with his questions 🤣 bonus points if Hobie and the twins are just cheering him on in the background

- 😅

@hyperfix-wip baby Kitt!! I hope you like it! And belated happy birthday to you, twin! ❤️❤️❤️ Ps. I don't know anything about uk politics so don't quote me on some of the details 🤣

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, parent AU, mum! Reader, dad! Hobie, twin AU, Billie and Ramona, Kitt, CW food mentions, fluff!

Navigation

It's election year once again, and the senators are on their campaign trail. The city hosts the debate event to entice the whole city to vote, and watch the younger generation grill the politicians. And it's a chance for the politicians to prove themselves against a bunch of children and maybe sway the votes their way. It's Kitt's debate team who are chosen this year, granted it's not exactly the academy awards, but people go out of their way to come and support the kids. Usually it's an uneventful debate, but sometimes, on rare occasions, it turns into something you'd see in a presidential debate where the kids don't back down from whichever politician they're beating up with words.

“Got the camera, dad?” Ramona asks as she hops off the car and out into the town hall meeting. “We need to record the exact moment the sweat starts beading down his ugly face.”

“Mona, we don't call people ugly.” You tell your fourteen year old while Hobie helps you unbuckle your seatbelt. You've told him a thousand times that you can do it yourself, but he has developed a habit of it ever since you two started dating. It's a habit that he refuses to shake off.

“Sorry, mum.”

“Yeah, because he can't help it.” Hobie murmurs as he clicks the seatbelt off while he's still reaching over the console and giving your shoulder a chaste kiss.

“Hobie.” You chastise him but you can't help the smile appearing on your lips.

“What? Politicians are an exception, love.” Chuckling, knowing that he has won, he leaves the car and quickly makes his way to your side to open your door. All without missing a beat and before you could even pull the handle yourself. He's still smooth years later. Holding out a hand to you, he helps you get out of the family car. “Got the camera?”

“I thought you got it?” Your face falls, and Hobie grins, patting his back pocket. “Is this revenge for eating your yogurt?” You roll your eyes, smacking his bicep playfully. Still lean and full of muscle just like ten years ago.

“No, I don't hold grudges.”

“Says the man who always reminds me to always lock the back door with that same smug look.” You poke his cheek while your three children groan right behind him. Wincing, you give them an apologetic look as you hop down from the well loved van.

You notice that Kitt looks clammy in his suit you perfectly tailored just for him. Maybe he's still irked by how you almost made him late by taking numerous pictures of him, and with the family. He looks adorable in the dark three piece outfit, even though he specifically asked you to make him as menacing as possible for the debate. You can't help but pat his cheek and coo at him, making the youngest Brown swat your hand away.

“There was a bloody deer, love. It almost ate Billie's hair.”

“That's true. And she has a name y’know.” Billie says seriously, if you didn't know your daughter you'd think she was actually serious about it.

“Oh yeah, what's her name?” Mona loops her arm around Billie's as they walk towards the city hall. She gives you a look, signalling you that they're gonna go ahead and find a seat for everyone. You're so attuned to your girls that the three of you can have a wordless conversation.

“Uh, Darlene the deer? Duh!”

“Very convincing, Bee.” Their playful chatters wavers off as they go ahead inside the venue.

You don't worry too much as their figures shrink away into the crowd, knowing that they can handle themselves and they have the place memorized because they've been in the same place as their little brother in the debate club a few years ago. They've got the medals to prove it.

Hobie, always the charmer, holds your hand, and pats Kitt's head with the other, very careful not to ruin the hair they both painstakingly did for two hours this morning. Despite the comforting touches from you and Hobie, he still looks like he's about to faint in the parking lot. Add the fact that your chatterbox of a son is now quiet as a mouse, it's cause for concern.

Hobie gives you a look, brows pinched together and lips clamped shut. “You alright, little spider?” He leaves your side and crouches down to his height. Kitt is smaller compared to other kids his age, maybe his growth spurt courtesy of Hobie's genes; isn't coming in just yet. He is still only nine years old, or what he always says ‘nine and a half.’ Hobie's back is all scrunched up, boots folding but he doesn't seem to care while his attention is fully on his son.

“Dad.” He whines, lips frowning and pursed together. His expression reminds you of Hobie when he saw you eating his yogurt. “I told you I don't like gettin' called little spider anymore.”

“Alright then, Kitty.”

Kitt sighs and stomps his foot at the childhood nickname that his sisters gave him when he was barely a day old. “I don't like that either.” His frustration rolls off of him, making your instincts go off.

Hobie glances at you, now fully worried. “Sorry, what's botherin’ you, hm?” He gently rubs his son's arm, voice gentle and soft, one he reserves only for his family.

“I—” Kitt frowns deeper, your own eyes staring at you with tears building up in his lashes. “I don't know, dad.”

You crouch down next to Hobie, and Kitt immediately goes to your side and half hugs you. He hides himself or tries to as he forgoes getting embarrassed in front of so many people to hug his mum.

“Are you scared?” You ask softly as you rub his back. “It's okay to be scared, you know.” Eyes flicking towards Hobie, you can feel his heart cracking at the sight of his little boy looking so small and terrified in your arms. It reminds him of his own childhood.

“I know,” Kitt sniffs but hides his tears with a calculated wipe with his sleeve. “It's not like the same scared when dad was teachin’ me how to swim.”

“Where do you feel it, Kitt?” Hobie asks, one hand holding onto the small of your back and the other on Kitt's shoulder. “In your stomach?”

Your son nods, cupping his belly as you feel a tear slide down your shoulder.

“You're anxious, and that's normal.” Hobie winces when his youngest climbs onto your lap and you're forced to sit on the pavement. Good thing you're not wearing white or a skirt. “Kitt, it's alright, yeah? We know you prepared for this, you're ready.”

“What if I stutter? Just like durin’ nationals.” Kitt lifts his head up from your neck, cheeks wet and eyes shining under the sun. “Or what if I say something and he gets mad?”

“If you do stutter, you'll catch your words again, I know you will.” You accompany Hobie's words with a squeeze around Kitt's middle. His hands are sweaty on your shoulders, and his tear stained cheeks almost makes you want to carry him home. Almost. “And if he gets mad at you, he won't do anythin’, he's all bark and no bite, remember? Just like we practiced and researched.” He ducks to meet with his son's downturned eyes. “Just take a deep breath, inhale and exhale.”

“You'll do great, baby.” You reassure as you press a sweet kiss on Kitt's temple. “We'll be right there in the audience and if you feel stage fright just imagine that it's just us watching you.” Giving him another squeeze, you and Hobie can practically see his head churning.

“‘m just—” Kitt frowns deeply again, emotions swirling around him. “What if he does somethin’? He's so powerful, just like what we read.”

“Oh, sweetheart, is that what you were worried about?” Embracing Kitt, you cup the side of his head as if you're protecting him from unseen dangers.

Hobie smiles softly, a calloused thumb wiping away the tears. “Osborn was too, and dad stopped him didn't I?” Eyes shining, Hobie wraps an arm around him. “He won't do anythin' to us,” Hobie nudges Kitt, voice low and gentle. “If he does, he won't get close.”

Kitt's eyes widen, looking up at Hobie for comfort while you continue to hold him. “You'll go all Spider-Man on him?” He whispers.

“For him? I'll go Prowler.” You know that Hobie's completely serious. He's ready to don the other suit if it gets to that point. And this time, instead of protesting the appearance of the other vigilante from bygone days, you nod.

A smile slowly spreads across Kitt's face, expression brighter as he laughs. “No, you won't, dad.”

You play along, wiggling Kitt and laughing with him. Hobie smiles, but his previous comment lingers above you and him. “It's silly, right?”

“Very silly.” Kitt inhales deeply and untangles himself around you to hop off your lap. “Thank you, mum.” Giving you one last squeeze as he hugs you, you look over his shoulder to beam at Hobie while giving a thumbs up.

“No thanks to your old man?” Hobie opens his arms and Kitt chuckles as he goes over to his dad. He immediately embraces Kitt, shaking him in place until his boyish laughter echoes around the parking lot.

“Thanks, dad.” Kitt says in between giggles as Hobie lifts him up and carries him like he's still a two year old who was begging to be carried.

Hobie gives you a helping hand up while he balances Kitt on one arm, all the while his son tries to escape his grasp. You take his open palm with a smile. He then lifts you up on your feet and as you spring up, you quickly put your arms around them and press a kiss on Kitt's cheek.

He remembers to be embarrassed now as he makes a face and manages to escape from his dad's hold. “C’mon, Bee and Mon are waitin' for us.” He walks ahead of you and Hobie, making sure he looks both ways before crossing.

“Don't go too far, Kitt!” You exclaim and you see him walk slower for you to catch up but when he sees a teammate, he's running away towards them. “Great,” you sigh as Hobie wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you inside the venue. “Did we do good, Hobs?” Your shoulders sag as you lean on him.

“He's smilin’ now, lovie, ‘m sure we did.” Pressing a chaste kiss right on your temple, he resists the urge to kiss you again. “He'll do great.” As if reading your mind, he tugs you closer and squeezes your hip lovingly.

“Were you really serious about bringing *him out again if that happens?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as you two follow behind Kitt who was greeting every teammate, teachers, and parents he knows.

“Yes.”

You don't know why but the single word has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around.

He leans towards the shell of your ear, whispering as his voice gets lower. A tone he only reserves just for you. “The Prowler can still come out even without a threat, y’know.”

Glancing at him, you smile, eyes conveying something the two of you only know. “I heard that his stuff is in the attic right next to the boxes of VHS tapes.”

Hobie's lips curl into a playful smile, mind taking note of the information.

—

It didn't take long for you and Hobie to find the twins in the venue. After dropping off Kitt backstage with another comforting hug and encouraging words, you almost immediately found your girls sitting right in the middle of the theatre with their bags on each seat they reserved just for you and Hobie. It's impossible to miss them with Billie's sparkling eyelids and Mona's frantic waving at the both of you.

Hobie's hand stays on your back while the two of you wiggle your way into your seats. The girls remove their bags off the chairs and scooch over to sit next to each other so you and Hobie could make kissy faces at each other without bothering them. Their words, not yours. They're not entirely wrong as Hobie's chin is perched on your shoulder while his hand idly draws shapes on your palm.

“There aren't any snacks in here?” Billie cranes her neck around to look for a vendor walking around.

“Bee, this isn't a football game.” Mona says, hand placed on her sister's shoulder to make her sit back down.

“They should have popcorn at least, with the beatdown that's about to happen.”

“I have cookies and tootsie rolls with me.” You say as you rummage through your purse that Hobie calls a black hole because he can never find what you asked him to get inside.

“Mum to the rescue.” Billie sighs dramatically as she reaches over Mona to grab the packet of cookies. “Thanks, mum.” Mona swats her away from her lap, making Billie giggle.

“How about you, mon-mon? Tootsie rolls?”

“Yes please, I'll share with dad.” She hands Hobie a piece, but he's too focused on the stage right where Kitt appears from backstage and into the debate team table. “Dad? You want some?”

You rub the back of his neck, smiling at him when he turns to you. “Mona's asking if you want some candy.”

“Sure, cheese.” Hobie smiles at Mona, who places a piece on Hobie's palm. He returns his attention back towards the stage, eyes honing in on Kitt who roames his eyes around the crowd as he tries to find the familiar faces.

“You want some too, mum?”

“No, thanks, baby, I'm good.” You take the candy from him and unwrap it. “He’ll be okay, Hobs.”

Hobie exhales, and opens his mouth for you to pop the candy in. With a chuckle, you toss it inside. “I know, I just hope he's not scared anymore.”

“He probably is, but he'll push through.” Cupping his cheek, Hobie gives your palm a kiss while your voice turns a softer tone. “Just like his dad, hm?”

“And his mum.”

Your heart swells as he stares at you softly. Just as you're about to get lost in his eyes, you see Kitt waving at you from your peripheral. Nudging Hobie, the two of you wave back. Mona does the same, giving him a double thumbs up.

“Let's go, Kitt!” Billie exclaims and Mona had to slink down on her seat from second hand embarrassment. You and Hobie chuckle as you look at your daughter with pride. “What? ‘m encouragin’ him.”

“Oh, you are, sweetheart.” Holding your hand out to her, she once again reaches over Mona to give you a squeeze while Hobie takes the opportunity to grab a cookie from her packet.

Kitt's grin from the stage shines brightly, seeing him looking better than he did back in the parking lot has you grinning back. “Let's go, Kitt!” Cupping your hands over your mouth, you cheer him on.

Hobie laughs and joins along while Billie laughs in her seat. “Knock ‘em dead!”

Mona looks like she wants the old theatre seats to swallow her whole. You place an arm around her, and she immediately hides her face on your side.

“I should've stayed at home.”

—

It's been thirty minutes since the event was supposed to start, and the politician is still nowhere to be seen on stage. They even played the national anthem without him. And yet the camera crew stays behind to film the whole thing, together with a known local journalist who will be the event's announcer. You could only hope that Kitt isn't too camera shy.

“Where's that wanker?” Hobie hisses in place.

“I already finished my cookies.” Billie sighs and pockets the trash. “At least Kitt looks calm.”

“He's in the zone.” Mona says, “he's going to destroy the guy when gets in.”

“When he gets in. He probably cancelled at the last minute.” Just as Billie says it, the blue suited man comes walking from the side of the stage to scattered applause. His security detail watch on from the sides and guards the doors.

“Thank you!” The blonde man takes the podium a few ways away from Kitt's table, waving to the crowd. The spotlights shine on him while the screens in the background show off the flag. It all makes Hobie's eyes roll. “Sorry I'm late, traffic.” He gives the crowd a smile that he always wears during the campaign, one that clearly isn't sincere from how his eyes are still and blank.

“That's it? That's his excuse?” Billie says and Mona shushes her sister. Billie flicks the shell of her ear in retaliation.

You can feel Hobie seething in his seat. The pleasantries start as the announcer welcomes everyone and presents the people on stage.

“Senator Robinson, welcome.” The mc greets him with a polite smile. “And of course our very own debate team from west London!” She says their school's name enthusiastically. “To start off, can you introduce yourself, senator?”

The suited man drawls his name on his tongue, eyes sharp as he greets the debate team who look at him with polite and curt nods. They'll dismantle him later, for now it's only pleasantries.

You inhale deeply, hands wringing together. Hobie cups both of your hands in his own, warmth seeping through you from his touch. He gives you a reassuring smile, leaning briefly to give you a chaste kiss to your temple. You hum thankfully as you squeeze his hand.

“It's my pleasure to be here. I always love helping out the children with their studies, just like in my platform where I'm planning to reform the after school programs.” The spotlights shine on him as he waits for applause, a few scattered claps reverberate in the near silent room. “Well, it's an honour to debate with you kids, how are you all doing? I hope you won't pull your punches!” He jokes, and a few chuckles can be heard. Kitt looks like he isn't having any of it.

“It's good to be here, senator.” A teammate of Kitt smiles tightly, her eyes shining under the harsh lighting. As the leader, she introduces herself and her fellow teammates and their team's achievements. Her serious demeanor is a far cry from how you last saw her at Kitt's birthday party where she ate a whole muffin in one go.

A hearty applause echoes around the venue. Billie even makes her claps louder and Mona makes sure that her sister doesn't scream out Kitt's name by glaring at her as a warning.

The announcer gestures towards the home team to start off the debate without any further delay. The leader glances at Kitt wordlessly, and you're on the edge of your seat.

The spotlights shine in his eyes, narrowed briefly as silence floats inside the place. Kitt glances at where his family is sitting, you and Hobie give him a comforting nod whilst his sisters beam at him. He inhales and stares directly at the senator, practically glaring at him. His expression reminds you of Hobie back when he was still the prowler. Hobie seems to share the same thought as he purses his lips and squeezes your hands.

“Senator.” The man smiles at Kitt briefly. “You said you're in for education and the children—”

“That's true.”

“Then why did you vote to cut the education budget durin’ your last term?” A collective gasp reverberates around the amphitheatre. You can feel Hobie trying to stifle a laugh right next to you. “Because of your vote, we didn't get a field trip to the museum like always, our after school programs are barely existent. Not to mention that because of you, our teachers still struggle to make ends meet.”

“Is that our son?” You mumble, blinking as you see the same kid you used to chase around the house to get a lizard from his hands. “Holy shit.”

“That's our son, love.” Hobie whispers to you, absolutely proud of his son as he watches Kitt speak like he owns the place.

“Is that bein’ for education, senator?” He finishes off. If only he had a mic to drop without damaging public property.

He catches the politician off guard. “W–Well, that's a very good thing to point out. You really don't hold your punches, huh?” He chuckles nervously and without humour. “And there was a very good reason for it, I had to vote yes on the budget cut so we could build a dam that saved a dozen rural areas during the last drought.” Chuckling, he once again waits for applause. “You lose some, you win some.” Eyes flicking at Kitt, you can see his jaw tightening.

“But this time, I'm going to make sure that we will win everything.” He continues, palm slapping at the podium for emphasis. Kitt's team are whispering amongst themselves. “I'm going to do everything I've planned, make it so every single one of my platforms get done for everyone's benefit. Not just in this city but for the whole country.” A lot more applause sounds out as the man smiles at the cameras.

The debate team reconvenes in their seats, and the leader nods at Kitt with fire in her eyes.

“Debate team, what say you?” The announcer asks.

Kitt clears his throat, and you unconsciously swallow down your nerves. Mona holds your bicep while Billie does the same to her sister. Hobie releases an anxious exhale, everyone's eyes are on your son.

Kitt straightens his back, palms splayed over his lap. “You had almost the same platforms and promises durin’ your last term, correct?”

“Well that's true—”

“Then why didn't you do all of those plans durin’ it then? You had the time, and the resources, but you decided not to. And now you're usin’ the same plans for your third run for senate.” The venue erupts in a collective applause, agreeing to his comment as the politician tries to speak above the noise and loosens his tie.

“Oh Kitt just fuckin’ killed him in broad daylight.” Mona chuckles out.

“Language, Mon.” You mumble as you stare wide eyed and proud at your youngest.

You and Hobie share a look, grinning from ear to ear as the whole debate continues further and the senator digs his own grave deeper.

—

Hobie crouches down as Kitt meets up with everyone backstage. The youngest Brown collides with the oldest, hugging his dad as they laugh.

“You were bloody brilliant, Kitt!” He holds him at arm's length, still carrying him as his legs dangle while you look over Hobie's shoulder with your chin perched atop it. Grinning at him and laughing along.

“Thanks, dad, but can you please put me down?” He seems embarrassed from the baby-like carry, so with a chuckle, Hobie puts him down.

“We're so proud of you, sweetheart!” You exclaim, opening your arms to hug him. You expect him to refuse but to your surprise, he bounds over to you and embraces you fully with his face nuzzling against you.

“Thanks, mum.” Kitt says softly while his sisters laugh and poke at him. Making him unlatch himself from you to swat at their teasing.

Hobie closes the small distance towards you, watching as his little family play fights in the middle of the hallway.

“He got that from me.” He whispers right on the shell of your ear.

“His genius or the questioning authority bit?”

Hobie shrugs, reaching for your cheek to cup it and tug you closer to him for a quick kiss. “Both.”

“I agonized for nine months only to birth your clone.” He laughs at your joke, and you shake your head with a smile while Kitt tries to escape from his sisters to no avail.

“He got your kindness though,” you gaze at Hobie with fond eyes. “Your laugh, and how good he bloody looks with a suit on. Seriously, you two should match next time.”

You slap his chest, laughing with him. “You ruined it. And that was one time, Hobie!” Kitt's high pitched yells have you turning your attention back to your children.

“The guy almost pissed himself!” Billie guffaws, taking her little brother and placing him on her shoulder while Kitt yells. “Good on you, kitty!”

“I think it's safe to say that he's not gettin' any votes from ‘ere.” Mona giggles as Kitt kicks at Billie, prompting her to let go of him.

“This is velvet!” Billie gasps, offended at the shoe mark left on her jacket.

Kitt hides behind your legs as he sticks his tongue out at his sister. Hobie pats his head, shaking it in his grasp.

“Right, genius, ice cream for dinner, just like we talked ‘bout?”

“Can we really?!” He asks, wide eyed and grinning.

“What—?” You knit your brows at Hobie.

“Run!” With a grin, Hobie quickly grabs Kitt and fireman carries him while the girls follow suit, giggling as they sprint away from you.

“I want ice cream for dinner too!” You bolt after them, smiling as you playfully chase your family.

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reyesstrand · 2 months ago

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wip wednesday

thanks for the tags @thisbuildinghasfeelings @paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom @everlastingday @futures-tense, i loved everything you shared <3 now will this actually turn into a fic i publish? who’s to say!

They slip out of the loft, wordless as they travel down the elevator and step into the late morning sunshine, birdsong erupting and chatter from storefronts across the street wrapping around them immediately. It feels wrong, that the day can continue on like usual for everyone else while theirs was pulled out from underneath them, leaving them on unsteady ground, unsure of where to turn next.

TK starts walking away from the noise immediately, arms crossed over his chest, defensive even when he doesn’t need to be. The soft click of his nice shoes over the sidewalk sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and his blunt nails dig crescent moons into his own biceps. He has a shift this afternoon, so it’s not like he can go too far, but the sunlight feels good on his skin. He tilts his face up toward the sky, basking in the heat, and it’s a high-pitched laugh that has him stopping dead in his tracks; he feels Carlos walk right into him, steadying himself with a hand on TK’s side, but he’s too focused on the sight before him to acknowledge his husband’s touch.

There’s a little boy across the street. Maybe six, with bouncy curls and a lion on his t-shirt, and he’s running like the wind. His destination is clear—the playground nestled in a grove of trees and park benches—and a young couple is trying to keep up with him. They’re giddy, TK can see it in the way they hold themselves, the way they grab at each other’s hands and tug each other along, neither of them expecting to be sprinting much today. When the man runs ahead and catches up with his son, he picks him up and blows a kiss onto his cheek and hoists him up onto his shoulders, his hands secure around little ankles. The woman laughs when the little boy squeals, tickling over his ribcage before she tosses her braided hair over her shoulder and pulls her phone out of her back pocket, yelling for her boys to smile!

This is where they were going to bring Jonah to burn off some energy. Where they’d share ice cream cones in the dead of summer. Where—

“Come on, baby,” Carlos murmurs, having been momentarily frozen in the moment, too. His hands are gentle as they sweep up and down his sides, and TK thinks it’s the only thing that’s keeping him upright.

no pressure tagging @butchreyes @strandnreyes @theghostofashton @heartstringsduet @goodways @carlossreaders @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @tellmegoodbye @whatsintheboxmh @liminalmemories21 @pelorsdyke @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @freneticfloetry & open tag!!!!

#tag games #my fic #tarlos

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whimsywilde · 2 years ago

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Astarion's Mirror

I couldn't get this out of my head after seeing the idea mentioned somewhere. (A TikTok comment maybe?) I haven't written fanfic since DAI. How am I back at this again? I'm not 100% satisfied with it but if I fiddle too much, I'll lose interest and it will disappear in the WIP folder. lol Enjoy!

Thank you Larian Studios and Neil Newbon for this incredible, beautiful, heartbreaking character!

Recommened Listening: THE FEELS by Labrinth

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Astarion…” she paused, hesitating, uncertain if the thought that had just danced across her mind would actually work. Sometimes she forgot he was a vampire. His lack of burning up in the sun tended to put his condition out of her mind. The mirror in his hand, however, had brought it back in stark relief. But… what if?

“As adorable as you are when thinking, I can’t help but feel there was more you wanted to say than just my name.” He smirked at her.

She resisted the urge to fall back into their playful banter. “What if you could see yourself… I mean, sort of.”

“What?” It was more of a whispered plea than a question. “How?”

“I’m not sure if it will work. But, the parasites… they’ve let us see into one another's minds before. It makes sense that we could see more.”

She hadn’t really been looking at him while she spoke, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance. Turning her attention more directly to him, his expression caught her off guard. She’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“We don’t have to. I’m not even completely sure it would work. I’ve never really tried to use it before. I just thought….”

“Would you try?” He interrupted, his voice still unnaturally hesitant, absent of the bravado she was used to. “Please.” It was almost an afterthought but may have been the most sincere she’d ever heard him.

She smiled tightly, worried now she’d be unable to connect that way, before closing her eyes and reaching for that alien presence within her mind. She hated the feeling of the cold shiver in her skull as she consciously connected to it and then, taking a breath, eyes tightly shut, reached out to where she felt she’d find Astarion.

At first the connection was light, barely perceptible, like cobwebs in the breeze. After focusing on it for a few seconds, reaching out to it with uncertain hands, it seemed to expand. With her eyes still tightly closed, it was the tide of emotions slowly rolling up in the shore of her mind that hit her first. The anticipation, hopeful expectation, fear and worry. She resisted the urge to retreat from the intensity of his feelings and the jumbled, wordless thoughts that came with them and, again, focused past them. After several seconds, she was surprised to suddenly find herself looking through Astarion’s eyes at herself. She stilled to allow the image of herself solidify in her mind.

Her eyes opened slowly. She allowed her gaze to linger near Astarion’s feet as gained confidence in the connection. The impatience he was feeling rushed to greet her through the bond.

“Look at me.” It was something between a command and a plea.

She opened her mind to him as completely as she could, wanting him to know that she had no motivations behind her actions and lingering gaze other than to allow him to see himself clearly, to be a mirror. She took a deep breath, centered herself and began to slowly lift her eyes up his body. Her gaze was gentle and curious, more that of an artist studying their work, rather than the lusty intensity of a lover. She followed the narrow slope of his hips up his chest and across his shoulders, her eyes lingering for mere moments before moving on. As she reached his neck, there was a brief glance to the scars that had made him the creature he was, before following his perfectly coiffed hair around his face.

Part of her still wanted to tease him, to play. They’d been having fun, taken next to nothing seriously while they traveled and fought together. Even when she allowed him to drink from her, always standing since him hovering over her had felt too intimate, she typically pushed him away afterward with a joke on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. It was easy and had been so natural to keep him just close enough without letting him in. The intensity of his feelings pouring into her now was more than she bargained for and she had a moment of regret for offering to even try. She didn’t want to feel so much. It left her vulnerable. Opened her up to much more than she wanted to be aware of. Her eyes had frozen at the base of his throat. Why couldn’t she bring herself to look up? She didn’t like the answers her heart was trying to give. His fingers curled lightly under her chin, lifting her face upward, pulled her attention back.

Her eyes snapped up to his suddenly and he gasped. The light from the campfire flickered and flashed across brilliant crimson. My eyes. Those are my eyes. His thoughts came through their link in sharp clarity. Her attention refocused on allowing him to see his face after so long in the dark and allowed the intensity of what he was feeling to drown out her own heart. She didn’t need to exist for this moment. She was giving this gift and she allowed herself to fall back within to the place of an observer. With her surrender, it allowed him to direct her eyes across his features. He took himself in fully and they stood in hushed stillness, eyes and minds locked together.

With their minds so fully blended, she almost didn’t notice her hand absentmindedly reaching out to rest lightly on the side of his face. He didn’t pull away. She used her thumb to pull gently at his bottom lip, exposing his fangs to her gaze.

They passed several seconds that way before her hand dropped, her vision swirling and darkening. She felt her body sway heavily and would have fallen if Astarion hadn’t caught her. Her head was pounding while her stomach churned. She sent up a silent prayer, to whatever god may be listening, that she wouldn’t vomit.

Astarion supported her body against his gently. When she tried to push away from him, he lifted her carefully and carried her to her tent, laying her down on her bedroll.

“You pushed yourself too far. You need to rest,” he scolded. She wanted to protest; to throw out some snarky remark in an attempt to catch him off guard so that they could go back to the superficial game they shared, but she couldn’t seem to measure out enough strength to respond. Sleep was quickly overtaking her. She was never sure if he’d actually turned to look at her before leaving the tent and whispered a strangled thank you or if it was just part of the fevered dreams of the night.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion x oc #larian studios #thank you larian #neil newbon

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Dirty Work 27

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: we can breathe because the workplace sloth is gone.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Right, can’t start the day without something to drink,” Hela struts in with two stemmed glasses of orange juice. “Not that I think we’ll need to work very hard. Darling, you are the perfect canvas.”

You twiddle your fingers as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Mr. Laufeyson is perched in the armchair, his leg casually swaying side to side as he pinches his thumb to his index finger. You bite the inside of your lip as Hela nears and holds out a glass.

“For you, darling,” she insists, “ahem,” she faces her brother, “I don’t believe we require your presence, brother.”

“Hmm,” he tilts his head, “what do you mean? I have a good eye for colour. Given my line of work–”

“Oh yes, dusty artifacts and tacky antiques, please,” she scoffs, “this is a ladies’ matter. Besides, I didn’t bring enough prosecco for you.”

He squints up at her and retracts his hand to tap his chin. You sniff the orange juice, you smell more than just pulp. You don’t drink, or you never have. You don’t think you’ll like it.

“Always so generous,” he pushes himself to his feet, “I invite you to my home and you cast me out.”

“I won’t be taking manners on hospitality from you,” she retorts, “certainly, your house manager… is that what you call her? Well, she must know how welcoming you truly are.”

“Careful,” Laufeyson warns as their eyes bore into each other.

She cackles and flicks him away with her fingers as she spins on her heel. She smirks at you as she raises her eyebrows and sips from her glass. You peek over at Laufeyson and refrain from tasting your own.

“Don’t make me remove you, Loki,” Hela threatens, “let us not revert to childishness. We’ve enough of that in this family.”

He rolls his eyes and clutches his hands behind his back. He arches a brow at you. A wordless statement. Despite his sister’s orders, you obey him first and foremost. You lower your eyes sheepishly and listen to his soles click out of the room.

Hela startles you as she nudges the bottom of the glass, “go on. Loosen up,” she purrs, “I swear, my brother can be so uptight. This entire place is just as stiff as that rod up his… well, I shouldn’t say that.”

You try to smile and do as she says. You taste the orange juice tenuously. It’s not that bad. A bit sweeter than you expect and bubbly. You always heard alcohol burned. Hm.

“Now, what I would do,” she steps back and holds up a palm, “you could carry a structured shoulder. Oh, or asymmetric. Off-the-shoulder. A cinch here,” she comes closer and touches your waist, “a pencil skirt or cigarette pants.”

She winks and eyes you up and down. She reaches to place her glass on the round end table near the end of the couch. She puts her hands on your waist and squeezes then drags them down to your hips.

“My, yes, you have a lovely shape under all that,” she praises as you squirm, “what are we looking for? To drive my brother absolutely mad?”

You blink wildly and sip once more, wiggling away to put your glass on the other side of the table lamp. “Just… for work.”

“Work,” she says skeptically, “sure,” she waves you off and goes to the rack of clothes, “come. I don’t mind giving an opinion but this is about you, darling. You choose for yourself. What catches your eye?”

You shyly come forward, rubbing your hands together. You’re not sure what you like better than the next. They’re all so pretty. There are pretty pieces you can only dream of wearing, they just wouldn’t fit you. The tight skirts wouldn’t be practical, how can you walk with your knees bound? And the white. That’s too easy to stain.

After some consideration but not much thought, your hand reaches out to feel a piece of magenta tulle. A sheer layer with polka dots over a satin liner. It’s really cute but maybe too much. You recoil and cross your arms.

“What do you think?” You ask quietly.

She snickers and grabs the magenta skirt, “I think this is gorgeous. A choice. That’ll go in the keep pile.”

“Oh,” you swallow.

“The colour will look marvelous on you, now something to go with it. I think this,” she pulls out a pale pink blouse with white detail on the shoulders, “balances out, but for an evening look,” she turns and retrieves a black camisole, “oh yes, this is lovely.”

You watch her lay each garment over the back of the couch. She pauses and crosses to the end table. She reclaims her drink and hands you yours. She drains hers and bids you finish your own. You do so with tiny sips. You’re still nursing the orange juice as she returns to the wrack.

“How about this?” She pulls out a pair of yellow pleated pants, “very bright but… very you, I’d say.”

“Nice,” you comment, “but… the colour.”

“Oh, I know my brother likes his muted tones but that’s his detriment,” she chides, “I think… oh, there are so many pieces. This,” she takes a strapless bodice with a large bow, “or this,” she chooses a plum satin blouse.

You just nod. You like the clothes, but you just struggle to see yourself wearing them. She turns to the large chest she had Mr. Laufeyson lug in and opens the lid. She presents several pairs of shoes. Flats, heels, booties, everything you could ever need.

“Darling, you must try this,” she holds up a sapphire dress, an off-the-shoulder cut sleeves that drape just off your arms. It’s calf-length and gorgeous.

“I… that… no, I’d look–”

“Gorgeous,” she insists as she shoves it towards you, “go on, put it on.”

“Um, alright,” you put down your mostly empty glass and take the hanger.

You feel the material as she picks up the stemmed glasses. “I’ll top us off and you get changed.”

“Oh, okay,” you turn but she stretches her arm out to stop you.

“Here is fine,” she says, “you needn’t be shy with me.”

“I…” you don’t argue. She’s still Mr. Laufeyson’s sister and that means she’s more important.

You bow your head and turn away. You peer around as she sweeps through to the kitchen. You sling the dress over the couch arm and undress to your underwear. You shimmy up the dress and strain to push the zipper all the way up.

As you bend your arm back painfully, the gate bell chimes. You flinch. You glance up at the ticking clock and your chest drops. Ronan! You look down at the half-zipped dress.

“Do you require some assistance?” The deep timbre rolls through you.

You squeak and face Mr. Laufeyson. His eyes glimmer as he takes you in. He grins and strides towards you, spinning his finger in the air. You put your back to him, if only to hide your embarrassment.

He drags his fingertip down the bare skin of your back and sends a shiver along your spine. You press your hands to the fabric as he tugs up the zipper, the fabric drawing taut to your figure. His touch dances along your waist and up to your shoulders.

“Turn, let me see,” he commands.

“The carpenter–”

“Yes, yes, I’ll get to it,” he overrides you.

You chew on your worries and face him. His eyes scan you head to toe and back again. His lips part slightly as you stand in bated silence. The gate bell buzzes again.

“Ugh, that is a nasty noise,” Hela appears again, “oh, brother, you just can’t help yourself. Go, mind your house, we are not even close to finished.”

“I can look,” he argues.

She scoffs and shoos him, charging at him and kicking out. He backs away, raising his hands defensively. He shakes his head and sneers.

“I’m going,” he sighs, “gods.”

He pivots and strides out. You watch after him, tingling strangely. You can’t tell if you're mortified or something else. You swear, you can still feel his touch along your spine.

“You certainly have your hands full with him,” she tuts, “though I hardly imagined I’d find a creature like you here. Please, don’t mistake my meaning. It is only, you’re not entirely his type. At least, from all I know of him.”

“I… I’m just the house manager,” you utter.

“Certainly,” she drawls and hands you a glass, “because a house manager requires the finest clothing, yes?”

“I…” you look at the glass. You don’t know what to say. You’re a terrible liar. So you won’t talk, you’ll drink and do what you’re told.

✨

You feel wobbly. The world won’t stay still as a giggle tickles in your chest. You don’t know what’s funny. Maybe it’s you. You look at your reflection. You look so silly in the flouncy peach skirt. It’s ridiculous.

“I can’t clean in this,” you hiccup to Hela as she stands behind you, admiring the mirror over your shoulder.

“Clean? Oh, babe, I hope not,” she places her hands on your shoulders, a gesture that reminds you of her brother. She does look and awfully a lot like him. Not Thor though, he’s the odd one out.

“That’s what I do,” you say dumbly, “don’t you know? I’m the maid.”

“Darling,” she hums and brings her hands to the sides of your face, pressing herself to your back, “I don’t think that’s the case anymore.” She caresses your cheeks then your neck, “you’re too pretty to be just the maid.”

“Pretty?” You bat your eyes and tense up.

You pull away from her. You don’t believe that. You can’t. Whatever she’s up to, is just another part of Laufeyson’s tricks. He likes those.

You cross your arms and flop down on the sofa. You stare at the beige heels on your feet. You pout and shake your head. That bubbly feeling bursts and you deflate.

You bend forward and clutch your head. You feel so heavy, as if you might sink right through the couch and floor. You sense her come near and the cushion beside you dips. You wince as she puts her hand on your back.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I only meant… well, you really are a pretty girl. If anything, I wonder what you’re doing with him,” she says, “you know, he’s so moody. Especially since the divorce, I don’t know how anyone–”

“What was she like?” You whisper, surprised by your own question, though she doesn’t appear to be.

“His wife? Oh, Sif, yes, she was… her own person. That was likely the problem,” he hums, “you shouldn’t worry about her. Trust me when I tell you, he is well and truly past that.”

You nod and sit up, “I’m sorry. I’m…” you blink, “dizzy.”

“Mmm, babe, you are a lightweight,” she reproaches, “you should’ve told me.”

“I’m— I don’t drink. He does. He drinks and he gets all grouchy and he says things. Confusing things,” you ramble without control. She’s right. You’re drunk and stupid, yet you can’t stop yourself.

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” she chuckles. “He sure does know how to make a mess of things, doesn’t he?”

You shrug. You can’t blame him for the mess. It’s your fault.

“Who doesn’t like some chaos,” she puts her hand on your leg, “I can see what he does. Such a fragile little thing.”

She pets your leg and you watch her fingers as they move in your fuzzy vision. Her nails tickle you through the skirt. She pushes her shoulder against yours and reaches with her other arm to grasp your chin. She turns your head, leaning in.

“A nice little doll to dress up and play with,” she sings before her lips crash into yours.

You let out a squeak. What is she doing? Your eyes round as her tongue pokes at your lips but you keep them sealed, horrified. She’s beautiful but you don’t expect it. What do you do? Why is she doing this?

She parts, staying close, “you’re delicious,” she pushes her hand between your legs, “come on, let’s have a little girl’s time.”

She dives in to kiss you again. You’re too dazed and flustered to fight her. You squeeze your eyes shut, your thighs too as she drags her hand upward. She pushes you down, twisting your body so your back meets the cushion as your legs remain hooked over the edge. You gasp as you free your lips from hers.

“What Loki doesn’t know–”

“Hela!” Her brother snarls as if summoned by his name.

You exclaim as she hisses and her eyes roll to the ceiling. She pushes herself off and pats her lips with her knuckles. Her dark lipstick is smeared, likely on you too. You stay as you are, paralysed, as she stands to face Mr. Laufeyson.

“We were just getting to know each other,” she says breezily.

“You certainly were,” Laufeyson approaches her staunchly, “you swore–”

“Oh, you know better,” she drawls flippantly.

“And I thought you would, especially–” he stops himself and growls. “Can I not trust anyone in this forsaken family?”

“It’s a bit of fun–”

“For who?” He challenges.

You sit up and touch your forehead. Your lashes flick as you try to see straight. Laufeyson sidesteps his sister and glares at you. You cower. He has to know, you wouldn’t do that.

His eyes search as his forehead furrows. He fixates on the end table then turns on Hela, “how much alcohol did you feed her?”

“She had two mimosas. It’s hardly a lethal dose.”

“Don’t,” he wags his finger at her. “You shouldn’t have given her any.”

“You didn’t say–”

“I shouldn’t have to teach you common sense,” he snaps.

“Now, don’t be vile. I came all the way here–”

Their argument stirs in your chest, roiling hotly. You don’t like fighting or anger. Your hands shake as you wring them and you fight the burning behind your eyes. You stand unsteadily and rock.

“I have to clean,” you say.

The siblings stop and turn to look at you. Hela gives a slanted smirk as Mr. Laufeyson frowns. He sighs and strides forward to grab your wrist.

“No, you need to sober up,” he declares.

“Oh, boo,” Hela sneers.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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heymacareyna · 2 years ago

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10 first lines

i wasn’t tagged or anything, but I saw @abalonetea post about it and it seems fun!

rules: share the first lines of the last ten things you’ve written

tagging: @korblez @dr-paine @author-a-holmes @the-stray-storyteller @sam-glade @risingshards @novel-emma

1. “Nadia, look!” Julie Dawson pointed at the fluffy pink-and-yellow wings on a maple tree deep in the Calvert Cliffs state park in southern Maryland. (from Wordless)

2. “F-f-f-fuck, it’s cold!” Bouncing on the balls of her feet, 26-year-old omega Holly Pendergrass jabbed in the code to get into her parents’ house. (from Holly and Ivy)

3. Yelena Montalban glared at the dark clouds overhead before slipping into her Subaru hatchback. (from The Winner Takes It All)

4. Cassia shivers on her cot, her breath a rattle in her throat. (from Kiss of the Lethe)

5. Rosalie Mackenzie had had enough of people throwing alphas at her. (from A Rose at Midnight)

6. Her Highness Elara Ravensfell, Princess of the Moon Court, lurked in the corner of the Sun Court’s massive ballroom, trying and failing to disappear into the few shadows. (from Knights and Daze)

7. Decked out in a black apron and visor, Vi carefully poured a blonde roast into a to-go cup. (from bring me java, bring me joy)

8. Caitlyn Kiramman yearned to know the color pink. (from say my name and every color illuminates)

9. Sigrid shuffles her tarot cards like the rush of a river, cool and calming. (from 78)

10. In her rural Virginia office, Lorena García Fernández bypassed the usual salacious story about the Ìovorian princess and snipped out the article about her business trip. (from Love, Lorena)

#wips #writeblr #writing #10 first lines #tag games #Wip: wordless #wip: knights and daze #wip: the winner takes it all #wip: holly and ivy #wip: a rose at midnight

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alectoperdita · 6 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Who's ready for a hung bottom Kaiba? Jou is. 😈

From the Old Friends universe. Finally writing that hung Kaiba lore. This takes place on Jou's birthday, so it will probably not be posted for a while even if I finish it soon. Oops.

Blowjob and banter under the cut.

---

The moment he released Katsuya, the man unbuttoned Seto's shirt with unimaginable speed. Seto struggled free of it and his undershirt while Katsuya kissed a ticklish trail from his sternum to his belly. Resting on his elbows, he could only watch helplessly as the man made his journey south. He nearly choked on his spit when Katsuya nuzzled his face into the patch of soft hair peeking out of his waistband. Air fled his lungs as Katsuya worked his belt and trousers open. Seto's cock strained against his underwear, leaving a embarrassing moist spot on the front.

Katsuya nuzzled the tent in his pants too. His hot breath made Seto's cock twitch with want. "Always wondered if your dick's as pretty as the rest of you. Time to unwrap you and see for myself. Hah, happy birthday to me."

"Katsuya—" Seto gasped. His hands shot out to slow him for a second, but he only grasped empty air.

Cool air washed over the head of his cock, but hot breath followed as Katsuya sealed his lips around the tip and gave it a filthy kiss. Seto's mind blanked. His hands fell to his side and fisted in the duvet as Katsuya drew inch after inch after inch of his cock free from its prison.

"Holy shit," Katsuya swore, audibly incredulous. "You're huge."

This was the reason relationships became tricky when sex became part of the equation.

Seto swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn't disappear. For a second, he didn't dare look at the other man's face. Having a cock of above average length could be tricky, especially when you were a man who slept with other men. Even gay men could get insecure about comparative penis size. Past a certain length, which Seto was, it became more uncomfortable to work with for everyone involved. It had proven to be a point of friction in a few of his previous relationships.

Unlike in pornos, having a big cock wasn't always a good thing in real life.

After inhaling a shaky breath, he pushed up onto his elbows so he could see the man still anchored between his spread knees. Their eyes locked over the towering phallus.

Katsuya whistled, but there was no derision or disgust or apprehension in his gaze. Merely lust and excitement. "Damn, no wonder you strutted around with all that big dick energy in high school. You're hung."

Seto groaned, but from exasperation rather than pleasure. "Katsuya, please don't make a big deal out of this."

Katsuya laughed, breathless. "How can I not when you're literally a huge deal?"

He traced a finger along the underside of Seto's stiff erection, drawing a line of molten arousal. When he wrapped a hand around the base, he gave another soft huff of wonder.

Seto's mouth fell open, another plea on his tongue for his companion to put the matter to rest. That they had better things to better occupy themselves with. It stayed open in a wordless gape, a gasp and a moan eking out of him as Katsuya sucked the tip of his cock into his hot, wet mouth. Instinctively, he bucked into the heat, sinking in further.

Katsuya made a choked sound but he didn't pull away. Working his tongue and lips in tandem, the man steadily swallowed half of Seto's length. A strangled noise scratched at Seto's throat as he felt himself nudge against the entrance to Katsuya's throat. With a pop, Katsuya peeled off him, gasping for air. Seto felt as dumbstruck as Katsuya looked, with his spit-slicked lips and mouth hanging open as he panted.

But it only lasted a second before Katsuya screwed his face in determination. How could Seto forget what a stubborn fool he could be?

"Let's try that again." The slight rasp in his voice could only be described as pure sex. He went down on Seto's cock again without hesitation.

#yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #my wips #y'all this beast was already 6k+ before Katsuya got Seto's pants off #most of it right now is them being cute and Seto being smitten #god help me dunno how long the smut scene is gonna turn out #if only i could be possessed by a demon like this for Kaiba's birthday fic

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saladscream · 1 month ago

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Anything for You (snippet from a WIP)

Again, the great and powerful @bertytravelsfar has demanded I put out. And so here you go. Last one for tonight, I promise. 😅

For too long Merlin had known nothing but fear and anger and frustration as he grappled with a destiny that deviously toyed with him in every cruel way imaginable. It had hardened him – sometimes, he felt, beyond recognition. And after Morgana and Mordred’s demises had brought combat to a halt, there was now a lack, a void, a yawning chasm in Merlin’s heart and mind where crippling anguish and powerless anger had burned for so long in a maelstrom of extreme emotions. All his power and passion and desperation had been relentlessly channelled into the fight against a prophecy that tricked Merlin into being its unwilling tool. Until it all came to an end, in a thrust of a sword. And now he felt hollowed out. Chaos had abruptly ceased and Merlin was dizzy with the sudden stillness left in its wake. The absence of mortal, life-defining danger. The shortage of formidable, treacherous opponents. Even the painful end of the precious secret that had shaped all his life. That last one was a bummer, surprisingly. Merlin was a sorcerer, Arthur knew, and somehow they had both survived the reveal. The shock of discovery had shaken them both, but they had handled it the same way they’d always handled the fraught moments when they’d been faced with their core differences: with awkwardness, guarded looks and a touch of gallows humour. The deep disappointment and the abysmal sense of betrayal had been dealt with – as had been the wordless deathbed admission of a bond between them that, even in extremis, had not dared say its name. All done and dusted. Moving on. Merlin had laid everything bare for Arthur. Everything he was. Gutted himself and poured out every last shred of shameful, slaving, brittle feeling he had ever harboured for his king, for his prince, for his prat, for his love. All of it. All of it received by a dying man. Admittedly, Merlin couldn’t blame Arthur for not knowing quite what to do with the alarming haemorrhage of feeling. But Merlin had been desperate. And Arthur’s life had been slipping through their fingers. Their last moments together had been harrowing and bittersweet and a trauma in themselves – the excruciating climax of an exceptional friendship. Something neither of them should have had to survive, to be honest. And yet they had, against all odds in Arthur’s case. So here they were now. Intimate friends but uncomfortable acquaintances, with nothing to show for themselves but a redeemed kingdom, routed enemies and a hopeful future that seemed bizarrely tasteless and ominously vacant to Merlin. Something was gone. A goal. A pressure. A tension that Merlin had woven into his whole life. Now gone. Merlin was left drifting, untethered. And prone to glum, melodramatic musings apparently. He huffed and quickened his step before someone realised the Court Sorcerer was sneaking out again. Not that there was anything distinctive about him to betray his new status. He was wearing his same old clothes, and to most people he remained the same old Merlin – the tall black-haired silhouette of King Arthur’s manservant well known around the citadel whether he liked it or not. Many probably thought his new title was nothing but another one of their weird private jokes. A full three months after Camlann, and people still didn’t quite believe that he was the fearsome, almighty sorcerer who had turned the tide of the battle. Because people knew Merlin. They’d seen just what a clod he was with a food tray. They’d seen how he was constantly late and unbelievably forgetful of court etiquette. They had seen (and heard) what a single cup of wine could do to him. The serving boy of their acquaintance could not be the great and powerful Emrys. And Merlin certainly wasn’t going to go out of his way to correct them. Old habits died hard. Lies and deception about his magic still felt the safer course of action.

#bbc merlin #merthur #merthur wip #tag game

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twilightarc-gm · 3 months ago

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ao3 Wrapped 2024 - twilightarc

Instead of an ask game I decided to just answer the questions on the sourced post that I can answer for my own benefit and fun.

How many words have you written this year? Ao3 Published: 310,834

How many works did you publish this year? 7 Complete / 13 Total

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? Always 'mainfic' i.e. This River Runs Beyond Heaven and Earth [江流天地外] I put so much work into it for fanfic. Why? I got mental health issues, I guess.

What work of yours has the most hits? I Long For You (相思) Hits: 5,311

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? Damn your love, damn your lies. Everyone is VERY VOCAL (affectionate) about Jiang Cheng being in a loveless marriage and needing a divorce pronto. 🥰

Favorite title you used Again, mainfic's title taken from a poem and has a wealth of description to it that really sets the tone for the entire story. Never gonna top that.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? "damn your love, damn your lies" is the only song title and it's from Fleetwood Mac - The Chain

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? CHENGXIAN to no one's surprise...

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Obviously this is also ChengXian but only because I haven't actually got to Jiang Cheng/Hu Touxiang(OC) this year.

What work was the quickest to write? To Endeavor is to Endure (4,331 words) This was a prompt fill, I did it in like two days ish.

What work took you the longest to write? Of the complete works: The BigBang2024 entry I ended up doing as a series with my co-author Specs. It took 6 months to write. YM3 Gen fic with MSY worldbuilding 🤲 Reprieve and a New Start and The Turning Point

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? 19!

What’s your longest work of the year? My most viewed work this year! I Long For You @ (45,781 words)

What’s your shortest work of the year? The prompt one-shot which is my 'quickest' (4,331 words)

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Not counting the "structural tags" of my "flavor" tags it's: Protective Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (3) 🥰

Your favorite character to write this year? Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin (9)!!

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? 😣 LWJ in divorce fic. I hate writing him. It was really hard to convey his own issues and insecurities while not making him say too much or explain himself too readily.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Jiang Cheng/Hu Touxiang!!! No more posting WIPs for me in 2025 I need to buckle down to get mainfic really going!

Which work of yours have you reread the most? 😅 If not mainfic then Red Tin of Heresy because I dunno what's going on with the vibes on that one but I keep rereading hoping I'll learn something from the demon that possessed me.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? Kudos: 1,050 !! And that's with works locked down which is really nice for me because I got more kudos the year I only posted 5 works when I left things unlocked.

Which work has the most comments?

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Yes! For BigBang 2024 with my friend Specs😘 and the divorce fic with/for @spriteofmushrooms. Oh! and CX Zine 2024 fic with @kabybaali who came up with the idea and wonderful art!

Did you write any gifts this year? Three!!

Did you receive any gifts this year? Five! From @groundwiremantaray Mission: Survive the Date (T rated chengxian SpyxFamily AU, very cute!) and from Specs Still Sparkling in the Night (T rated chengxian with Chinese Mythology!). Also a beautiful art gift scaly sweetheart by sugar_shoal and @notluceo fanart of Cheng-lang and Ya-Xian!! AND a beautiful gifset from @add1ctedt0you for one of my first one-shots Of Summer and Smiles

What’s your most common category? M/M (5)

What do you listen to while writing? Usually something wordless like industrial techno on loop.

Favorite work you wrote this year? Of the complete stuff: I Long For You, I really enjoyed writing the sex scene in that one because it was a lot of ebb and flow and from top!JC's pov.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Not doing the last two because of recency bias 🤣 like hell I can remember something like that to compare over an entire year!

#year in review #ao3 #long post #twi posts #mdzs

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xxnashiraxx · 8 months ago

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WIP Wednesday Friday Cause I Can

Hey Everyone!

I'm currently in another state waiting for my flight much later today, but I couldn't help the stroke of inspiration I had yesterday, and decided to write a FARRRRRR off future smut scene- with some fluff mixed in- in my fic between Ofelia and Astarion. Like sooooo far- I don't know why I'm torturing myself this way, but well... 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anywho, thank you all that tagged me (I think most recent was @verbenaa or @elinorbard , love you two ❤️)

Please enjoy this lengthy thing, it'll likely change a little bit and expand once this chapter does come out, but that's far away!

He presses her into the dirt, hands gripping her hips so hard she's afraid they'll leave bruises. The pain is dull, distant- inconsequential in the presence of their mixed pleasure. The way he moves makes her vision spin until the heavens above look like a whirlpool of bright, trailing lights.

He maintains eye contact as he pistons into her, her back arching off the hard ground as he drags her closer and closer- her walls fluttering and her clit pulsing in time to each thrust. It’s so good… so good that she can’t keep his name off her tongue as her eyes shut and she twists and bucks into him like a feral animal, lost in his touch and rapidly spinning out of control. He pushes her closer until the fingers of his right hand slip between her wet folds and circle her bundle of nerves, her body exploding in sensation and fire.

Her orgasm snaps like a whip- faster than she can blink. She's tumbling over the edge, mouth falling open around a wordless cry as he cradles her in his arms, scattering kisses over her collarbones to calm her shivering and twitching body.

It takes a moment to regain her composure- no more than a few seconds, she's sure- but it feels like forever when she finally focuses on him again. His gaze is soft, so unlike anything she's ever seen, and she immediately startles out of the daze, afraid he's withdrawn again.

"Are you okay?" She whispers frantically, rising to her elbows as he stills inside her. She suppresses any sounds, not wanting to make this worse if he's suddenly no longer a willing participant.

"I'm fine, darling." He presses his smile against the side of her head, leaving a soft peck on her cheek. She loses a bit of her balance when she moves her hands until they're gripping either side of his jaw, peering up at him with concern and fear. She doesn't want to put him through this again, gods she knew it was too soon for him to make this decision. She's so selfish for agreeing, so selfish and fucking horrible-

"Mmm!" She whimpers when he whips his head up to capture her mouth in a kiss. It's bruising, demanding and hot and she stays quiet when he knicks her lip with his fang, drawing blood that pools in both their mouths.

"Everything is fine, Ofelia." He murmurs between kisses, sweeping his tongue inside to swallow more before suckling at the cut. "I'm here. I'm here, and I love you, and I want to finish inside you. Gods... you're so tight..." She shudders and whimpers at his voice, at his filthy words. She clenches around him, and his answering groan sounds ragged and desperate. "Please,"

She pulls back to peer up at him, searching for lies- deceit. His tadpole reaches for hers in his heated gaze, and when they tangle, she feels his sincerity so severe that it makes her shiver.

"Okay," She nods, pulling him back in for another kiss. He resumes his thrusts, swelling so fully inside her that she's starting to slip again. She can't keep her voice quiet, his name pouring from her mouth as easily as the little "I love you"'s mixed in-between. She loves him... loves him so much it makes her entire body ache - wanting him closer even as he's buried fully inside, dragging over her walls in a way that transcends any feeling that ever came before it.

She's melting away, her mind going fuzzy and dark around the edges. His face is like a vision- sweat making his hair cling to his forehead, lower lip anchored beneath his fangs, smeared scarlet. His eyes, gods, his eyes... The red is eclipsed by his black pupils, staring into her hungrily, just like when he feeds and she leans forward to kiss him again, nibbling at his lower lip and wordlessly begging him to bite her as her tongue glides over one fang. She feels it unsheath, barely having to do anything to encourage him as rough hands grip her chin and waist to sink his teeth into the corner of her mouth.

She cries out softly, trembling beneath his harsher treatment, clenching around him until he’s groaning into the bite. He’s taking from her, and the usual tingle of pleasure spreads from the top of her head to her toes until a second climax dawns on the horizon, his cock throbbing and growing warm inside her. It’s overwhelming feeling him turn hot this way, his tongue laving over the place he’d bitten her as his hands find her thighs and he lifts her legs up, above, until her ankles rest around his shoulders and his hands prop him up at either side of her head. At this angle, he fills her so completely that she’s thrashing and wailing his name, arms locking around his neck as he slowly pulls out before pounding back inside.

“Astarion!” She cries, holding tight, her heels digging into his back as he groans and kisses and bites at her neck and chest. One hand finds her breast and kneads at it softly, a stark comparison to the way he pummels into her wet cunt, the traces of venom from his fangs leaving her delirious and scattered. She zeroes in on a drop of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and as she watches it trail down his chin, the web holding her in place begins to fray, torn asunder when the crimson fluid drips onto her lips.

A bolt of electricity shoots down her spine, her hips lifting off the ground as he pounds harder, every muscle and piece of flesh honed in on coming inside her. She loses track of his gaze as stars burst behind her eyelids, his deep voice gravelly with want as he calls her name and soothes over her twitching thighs.

“So good… coming on my cock… twice…” She’s blinking tears from her eyes as his hips stutter, tadpole breaking through the haze of her second orgasm to tip his feelings and emotions into her mind. She can feel him getting close, feels the twitch in his cock and the sudden swell like they’re one in the same and the sensation makes her body contract around him again, offering the bliss he’s been so madly seeking.

Tagging @ladyduellist (i want more cowboy Astarion, sorry I'm so needy- at your own pace though 🤠❤️) @preciouslittlebhaalbae (because I'm starving for more Erin x Astarion) @inkymoonbunny @khywren and every single other person who sees this ❤️

If you saw typos, NO YOU DIDN'T THEY’RE GONE NOW

#wip friday #fic wip #with stars to fill my dream #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x f!tav #astarion x oc #astarion smut #theyre kissing and stuff

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