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cherryheairt · 3 months ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. V

sorry for the wait, I'm trying to do a mix of longer and shorter chaps depending on how much time I have. Love yall 🩷

tags- @beebeechaos @hueanhdang @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew

cw- blood, death

"I'll find her." Cregan promised the she-dragon, not stopping to wonder if it understood his common tongue.

He sat upon Red's saddle, looking out into the dim forest. He prayed of the old Gods that she was only lost.

🗡

Daenys had yet to find her mysterious calling. It wasn't a voice or a message, but a persistent tug in the forefront of her unconscious mind. The snow seemed to fall harder the deeper she continued into the forest. She was unsure which way she had come from, but knew it didn't matter now.

White fortresses of snow grew all around her, trapping her from going any other direction. Squinting, she could barely make out a few feet in front of her face. This must be some cruel game the gods were playing, toying with the Princess before leading her to her doom. Perhaps a frozen lake would be fitting. She wouldn't even know that she was standing in the middle of one until she was frozen in the icy depths.

Or mayhaps a cliff so monstrous that the jagged edges left nothing of her mortal body left behind. Whatever it was, Daenys just wished she would reach it already. Now that she was wide-awake, the cold was getting to her, mentally and physically. Even the well-suited fur dress was not enough to keep her alive forever. She needed fire, warmth.

And what of her most recent vision? Tame in nature, but harrowing to her poor heart nonetheless. Daenys had never seen Rhaenyra so undignified before, flying on Syrax in a dirty, worn dress and covered in soot and sand. Her hair was in a loose braid, clearly one meant for sleep and not council duties. She was searching for something that no one else could find. A dragon, perhaps? Maybe Seasmoke had become active again after his depressive state from Laenor's passing. The grey dragon had always liked Rhaenyra. The married couple often rode their dragons together to spend time away from King's Landing. Daenys was sure it would obey her still.

But that look on her face. The same one she wore after returning from her birthing room, without baby Visenya in her arms. Puffy face, red eyes, downtrodded posture unbefitting of the new Queen. It was all the same in her dream, maybe even worse. Daenys was glad that her mother was with Syrax, for the she dragon would keep her safe no matter what.

She smiled slightly at the remembrance of Syrax, the princess dragoness. Though Morningstar was not born from Syrax's clutch, the two had bonded as if they were truly kin. Daenys had even commissioned an iron star-shaped chain to be the dragonsaddle's chestpiece. Rhaenyra had given Syrax a similar heart-shaped chestpiece in her youth and was happy to see the white dragon doning a matching article.

Daenys suddenly felt a pang in her heart, clutching the star necklace hanging at her neck. Guilty ate at her for leaving her loyal dragon behind. She missed her warmth.

She missed Cregan's, too.

She longed for either's protective embrace in this desolate wood.

"Find me," she whispered to the nothingness. The air seemed to still, freezing Daenys in place. She listened for something, anything. She no longer felt the incessant tug. Her mind cleared.

A crunch of snow was her answer.

But Daenys hadn't moved an inch.

"Cregan?" She asked, louder. "Are you here?"

No answer but the one in the wind, like a solemn wolf's howl.

Another crunch. Another step. Cregan would've answered her by now, surely. He was not one for callous pranks or jests. Daenys wasn't alone anymore. Was this the destination? Her mind's call? Would it be a wise seer, or a vessel sent by the gods to deliver a message? Swallowing, she hoped that the entity was merciful.

A low growl answered her desperate wishes.

A wolf.

Not Dusk.

Shit.

Daenys stilled her breaths, bracing her legs into the snow. What does a weaponless person do in the face of a predator? She'd never been taught such survival methods. The Red Keep's wildlife consisted of garden rabbits and squirrels, and Dragonstone had naught but sea creatures and crabs at its disposal.

Her eyes caught the slow movement of the creatures paw, striking dread straight into her heart. The form was smaller than Dusk, by a lot. Direwolves had a size no natural animal compared to. But this one seemed smaller than an average wolf, too. Perhaps a wolf in its teen years, just recently leaving its pack to stake his place in the world.

It was a slim thing, thick coat not enough to hide its ribs. Poor thing. It was starving, clearly. Daenys would have the heart to help it if only she wasn't the current prey he had in mind.

It was survival of the fittest in this world, after all. A dragon and a wolf. Any person with common sense would declare the dragon the victor before the fight could even start. But what was the blood of the dragon without the dragon? Daenys began to wonder if there was anything special about the Targaryens besides their dragons. They gained no special traits. No endurance, strength, speed. Without Morningstar, was Daenys worthy of her namesake? Lightbringer, the realm lovingly called the beast. Fearsome and powerful, a shame that the dragon will never be given glory like other dragons of history.

The dragon wouldn't be winning wars, protecting Westeros, or even stationed at a House to guard. All because of the rider she was bestowed.

A wolf does not care for blood.

They stared at each other, neither blinking nor moving.

Run or fight.

Run or fight?

Her only two options, and both would lead to her death. It wasn't nearly as merciful and quick as a frozen lake or a jagged cliff would be. No, she would be torn apart kicking and screaming.

If she charged it, would it run or have the courage to meet her head on? No, it would not back down. A starving dog hunts best. A starving wolf cannot risk failure.

What would Rhaenyra do? What would Daemon do?

Rhaenyra might stand her ground, ever the Dragon Queen she was. Mighty and proud, though she wielded no sword or plated armor.

Daemon wouldn't hesitate, drawing Dark Sister from its sheathe, beheading the wolf with a triumphant laugh.

Daenys was neither her mother nor her step-father, though she wished futility to be an image of them.

Cregan? Perhaps he would tame yet another wolf, seeing as he clearly had an affinity.

What would a northerner like Cregan Stark do in the face of a wild wolf? Unarmed, unshielded. Pray? Take the death as the will of the Gods? Maybe.

Daenys Velayron was far from a northerner. Fire and blood hot through her veins, not ice or faith. The way of the dragon was to be unchained, forever standing tall above the realm.

Though, wild animals have no reason to care for heritage or blood. The meat on her bones was all it could see.

A wolf does not care for blood.

Daenys exhaled, long and slow. Run or fight. Fighting a starved wolf meant death, instantly. Running gave her a chance at finding a tree or rock to climb–anything to get her a vantage point.

The choice was clear.

She just needed to act.

To turn your back on a predator was to sign your own life away.

Daenys, ever so slow, unbuckled her fur coat from her shoulders. The grey wolf eyed it, snarling. Its yellow eyes grew brighter, like two harvest moons shining against the fallen snow.

Daenys mustered up all the courage she could manage, heart pounding, throwing the fur coat across the distance to the wolf. Immediately, it took it in its maw and ripped its head back and forth wildly. If it were a hot-blooded prey, the coat would be dead with blood spattered all over the snow.

Daenys ran, wasting no time watching the display.

She hoped to blind it temporarily, but it catching the furs was a better outcome than missing entirely.

She panted, adrenaline coursing through her to give warmth and strength to her limbs. They burned with the sudden exertion. Daenys could hear the wolf throwing the fur away, not being able to gather any sustenance from the useless garb.

It barked frustratedly at her disappearance from his sight, quickly giving chase to the girl.

Daenys could only hear her heart beat out of her chest and the sounds of the snarling chasing her, closer every second. Her eyes flew around wildly, hoping to spot a low-hanging but sturdy branch. Kind of difficult when running at full speed. Screeching at a bite nipping at her heels, she jumped to the nearest branch she could reach, not having any time left to search. Daenys managed to pull half of her body over it before the wolf's teeth were on her skirts, tugging violently.

She cried out as she hit the cold floor, winded from the wall. The wolf planted itself over her, leaving no room for escape, nipping at her face. Her arm instinctively flew to protect her throat and face, resulting in the wolf's jaw clamping right down on her forearm. She screamed in agony, flames of pain running through her arm. She kicked at its flank while it snarled deep and heavily, salivating through her arm. The blood and saliva from her arm dripped down hot streaks to her face, blinding her.

When the wolf let go of her arm, bracing to go for more vital parts of her to end her squirming, Daenys accepted her fate. The kicks had done nothing. It hadn't moved an inch nor showed signs of pain. At least her death wouldn't be completely useless. The wolf would be fed, for perhaps a few weeks until it could find another easy prey.

Above her, the yellow eyes were lit with hungry and drive.

Daenys closed her eyes tight, hoping for the end to be swift.

But, she did not feel the jaws of death.

She felt the hot sting of blood being poored onto her exposed skin. She shot up, feeling the head of the wolf fall onto her chest. In a horrific pool of blood and bone, the wolf's head went to her lap as she sat up. Daenys froze, chest heaving with panicked breaths. She wanted to toss the head off of her, throw up, and cry all at once. But she was frozen with shock.

"Is that you, Princess?"

That was not Cregan.

Daenys lifted her gaze from the head to the voice. A man, tall and sharply built, dressed in all black. Perhaps close to Daemon's age, with a salt-and-peppered black beard and hair.

She could only stare at him, eyes wide with terror and adrenaline leaving her body. The pain in her arm was flaring, only growing as it bled onto the snow. It could hardlt be called snow anymore, the radious around Daenys was pure blood red, including herself. Her hair was dyed red, too, sullying into her usually perfect white. She was sure she would never feel clean again, that the hot blood would remain on her forever.

"My lady, focus on me." His words were stern as he knelt to meet the Princess, a hand on her face.

She listened, looking into his crystaline blue eyes. A northerner, he must be, born and raised. "...Ser?" She whispered, hoarse.

He nodded, focusing her face to his and not letting her gaze drift. "Where are you, Princess?"

The question startled her from despondency, confused. "Where am I? The North?" She asked.

He chuckled at her bemusement. "Aye, lass. Very good. What's your name?"

She felt annoyed suddenly, this man was asking very stupid and obvious questions. He called her Princess, he must know the answer. "Daenys Velayron. Who are you?"

"The man who saved your life. You're very welcome, by the way." He smirked crookedly, chortling when she only narrowed her eyes.

"Seamus Knott, at your service, My Lady. I am sworn to the Wall, though, so I am no Ser." He bowed dramatically, though his bitter smile showed his discontent with his position. Perhaps he was sent to the wall in a way he deemed unjustified. Whatever the reason was, Daenys did not want to be alone with him for long. The Night's Watch was loyal to the crown in respect only. She was content to visit, but only because Cregan would be there to look after her. Theives and rapers were a majority of the Watch, Daenys did not want to take any chances with them.

"Why are you so far from the wall, Seamus?" Daenys asked him, still sitting lamely in her spot.

He raised a brow, "why are you so far from your protector?"

She bristled, curling in on herself protectively. Had he been following them? For how long?

Seeing her demeanor shift, Seamus raised his hands in a show of surrender. "Not like that, your highness. I was simply speculating. A princess so far in the North hasnt happened in a century. You are news to us all. At Castle Black, we were informed that you would be arriving with Lord Stark soon."

It did make sense. Though, only three days had passed since they left–

"Step away from the Princess." A voice growled behind the Knott man. Daenys perked up at the sound, the familiar tone putting her heart and mind finally at ease. Ice was held straight to the back of his neck, a perfect extension of the Lord's arm.

Cregan stood tall and firm with his expression almost unreadable. Would he be angry with her for her recklessness, send her back to Dragonstone? Or perhaps he was more angry with the Night's Watch for spilling private information to all the residents.

"Cregan!" She gasped, trying to stand to her feet but was stopped by a wave of vertigo. Her feet were like water, unable to hold up any weight. She held her head with her uninjured hand, cradling the pain.

Cregan glanced at her briefly, brow furrowing at the state of her, before he stepped closer to Seamus. The tip was a mere inch away from the man's stubbled neck, though the older man paid it no mind. Grinning, "I saved the poor maiden, she'd be dead by now if I 'aden't. Where were you, Stark?"

Cregan's jaw ticked, "How did you find her? We're too far from any houses for this to be considered a mere coincidence." Clearly, he was ignoring the man's words. Probably because he was right. The blood had long cooled in on top of her, leaving the liquid to intensify her shivering.

Seamus looked down at him over his narrow nose, arrogantly sizing the lord up. His blood-covered steel sword was still at his side, clenched around a gloved fist. "I have been summoned weeks ago to head the beckoning of Lord Tully. I received a raven from Castle Black's Commander only a few days ago, informing me of the Warden escorting the Princess to the Wall. I merely wished to ensure our Princess' safety."

Cregan was unmoved. "I can handle that perfectly well. She is under my protection, my watch."

"Your watch hasn't even begun, Stark. You have no idea what it means to serve the wall. Sitting pretty in Winterfell while we work thanklessly for our keep." Seamus sneered, nasty expression twisting his uncomely features.

"Who's fault is that, Knott?" Cregan bit back. Daenys was left confused at their familiarity. Did they know each other?

Seamus' grip on his sword tightened, the leathery squeeze ringing in Daenys' ears unpleasantly. Her ears rang harshly, blood rushing to her head and drowning other sounds out. About to vomit her rabbit up or faint, she did not know. Dusk, who had been loyally by Cregan's legs, now moved to Daenys' side at the flick of his owner's wrist. She placed an unsteady hand on his brown shoulder, allowing him to take her weight as she leaned into his warmth. He wasn't quite as comforting as Cregan had been, but the relief was nice.

Dusk huffed into her ear, though he still stared up at Seamus the whole time. When Daenys fell asleep, the sound of steel sheathing filled her muffled ears.

🗡

She awoke to a weight over her body, bundled like a blanket. The strong scent of iron and wood filled her nose and surrounded her entirely. She opened her eyes to see Cregan at her side, under the cover of a tent. Looking around, she spotted none of her belongings. His tent. He crouched on his knee, tenderly wiping at her wound with a wet cloth. While he was deep in concentration, his brows knit together tightly, a frown dragging his handsome face down.

"Cregan?" He lifted his head to face her, turning his attention from her arm.

He smiled tightly at her, clearly still bothered by something. "My Lady, I'm glad to see you awake." Cregan told her earnestly.

Daenys sat up with his help, allowing his arm to linger at her back. "What happened to Seamus?"

Clenching his teeth, Cregan fought the urge to roll his eyes childishly. "Outside. Dusk is watching over him. I had to tend to you before I deal with him."

She kissed her teeth when she felt the sting of her arm come back. The wound was clean, though deep and raised. It would scar her for the rest of her life, a painful reminder of her dreadful night.

Cregan, noticing her downturned face, lifted her chin to look up at him instead. "It is a warrior's scar, Princess. We have that in common." He smiled more genuinely now as he lifted his sleeve to reveal his bicep, raised slightly with an old white scar, one that mirrored hers.

"Dusk bit you?" She gasped, brushing her fingertips over the scar. Gingerly, as if she thought it would still hurt him.

He chuckled fondly, watching her eyes rack over the scar. "When we first met. I was six and ten when I first became Lord of Winterfell. I was forced to imprison my uncle and his sons that day to take my place. I left for a solo hunt to be alone for a while.

He found me first. The size of a normal young wolf. We were hunting the same dear when I shot it down first. Dusk didn't take to kindly to that," He gestured to the teeth marks. "But I won that fight, gave him a scar to match. He's stayed by my side ever since." Cregan left out the part where he discovered his soul bonded to Dusk's, due to him being able to warg.

Daenys smiled, moving her hand away from his arm. "I'm glad I didn't have to fight Morningstar to get her to obey me." She laughed. Cregan laughed along, white teeth glinting in the light.

Cregan survived a direwolf attack all on his own when he was but a young man. Daenys would have died without assistance against her attacker when she was a woman grown. Clenching her jaw, she started, "I'm sorry for leaving last night. I...wish I could tell you my reasoning, but I don't know myself."

He took her face in his hand, inspecting it long and hard. Her violet eyes were half-lidded, a sign of her exhaustion. They still shined brightly in the day's light like they always did. Two perfect amethysts looking straight at him.

"You did nothing wrong, sweet girl." Cregan's thumb brushed the apple of her cheek, rubbing at the clear skin. She now noticed the feeling of the sticky blood was gone almost entirely, except from her dress. He had washed it all off of her in her unconsciousness. "You couldn't stop it, could you?"

Like he knew everything, Cregan seemed to hold all the wisdom in the world. Perhaps that was the result of being a Lord at six and ten. "I stopped walking when the wolf came." Daenys nodded.

He kept his hand in its place while he took a moment to think. "I should've been there, It's my duty to keep you safe, and I failed. Seamus is right, the creatin he is. If he hadn't come first, you wouldn't have come home to the Queen."

She smiled crookedly, telling him she was not upset. "From now on, I must insist." He focused entirely on her, making her face feel hot from the intensity. "You be with me at all times. In my tent, hunting with me, Hells, even on horseback with me if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

"I do not wish to be your burden, My Lord."

"I wish it," He shook his head, a secret pang in his heart that she hadn't called him by his name again.

"Even while you hunt? I am not quite as stealthy as you, I would just scare everything away."

"I will teach you." Cregan said firmly, leaving no further room for arguments. "We will stay in larger clearings from now on, even if it means walking greater distances. I want Morningstar to be with us as we sleep. I do not trust Knott."

"Speaking of," she started, tentatively. "How do you know him?"

He sighed deeply, reaching into his satchel bag to grab a roll of bandage. While he worked on wrapping her arm, he spoke. "My father and him grew up together. His brother, the Knott heir, warded with my father for some time to learn his Lordly duties. Seamus just tagged along because his father wished to be rid of him. He was a jealous, spiteful person even as a boy. When their father passed, he left everything to his rightful heir Kent.

Seamus killed him when he had not even been Lord for a year. He was sent to the Night's Watch by my father, a worse punishment than death for a man who only cares for titles and power. In the Watch, all brothers are equal."

"I do not want to kill him because he saved your life. I also do not want him anywhere near you." Cregan grit his teeth, frustrated at his torn opinions. He owed the man what he asked of, which was simply to accompany Cregan and Daenys to the Wall. Cregan cursed himself for his own honor, the Lord of Winterfell always kept his word.

"I promise, if he does anything, anything, to make you uncomfortable, I will take care of him." Cregan told her, earning a short nod from the Princess.

He stood, bandage firmly in place, helping her up with a sturdy hand. "Change your dress and wash up, then I will bring you hunting." It was too early to allow her to sleep, he wanted her to sleep tonight so that they may only travel during the day. They had completely lost this day thanks for the circumstances, and he wanted to spend the remaining time doing something useful. Also, he wanted to keep his mind of maiming Seamus where he stood.

While Daenys changed, she grimaced at the sight of blood that had made it way further down her dress. The garment was not fixable without a miracle, so she left it outside of the tent for Dusk to use as a temporary bed. Less weight for Mylo to carry, she supposed. Daenys scrubbed the dried blood from her neck and chest, not yet able to clean out her hair. That would take running water, not a damp cloth.

Stepping outside, she doned a new white dress, lined with grey fur. The sight of grey reminded her of the young wolf, filling her heart with guilt. She hoped he hadn't felt fear or pain in his quick end. She was met with Seamus, standing a few yards away from her tent. He wore a wild and proud grin, baring his teeth to her.

"Princess! You're awake, how delightful." She nodded her greeting stiffly. "I have a gift for you to take home, a proper warrior's trophy for the Queen." He presented the wolf's head from a bag attached to his belt, its yellow eyes still wide open, but holding none of its previous hunger. Daenys gasped in horror, bringing a hand to her neck. Cregan, who'd been waiting near the edge of camp for her, strided forward.

"Is this a cruel joke on your Princess, Knott?" He began, hand hovering over Ice. Before Seamus or Cregan could begin to argue again, Daenys rushed forward to take the pup's head in her hands. Both men stared at her in surprise.

Without saying a word, though she had many specific words for the brute, she gently held the wolf's severed head as she brought it to Morningstar, who had been laying in the edge of the clearing. She looked grumpy already, perhaps because of the direwolve's irritating presence, but purred when she saw Daenys finally coming to her. Daenys sat the head gently in front of the dragon's head, "Daor havor."

"Dracarys." Daenys commanded the mighty dragon, stepping back many paces. The three people, and the curious direwolf, watched on as the dragon scorched the head until it was naught but ash. The snow around the head had melted to reveal black burnt ground. Silence filled the campground. Daenys bowed her head, whispering to herself. "Kostagon aōha iemny sagon forever lēda sir"

She turned to look up at Seamus, who had a strange look on his face. "That was a cruel thing to do, ser. Not to me, but to the poor animal who lost it's life to starvation."

Seamus clenched his jaw at the scorning, never having been told off by a girl, much less a younger one. "Aye, Princess." Was all he said, trodding off to sulk in his own small tent.

Daenys looked to Cregan, who smiled softly at her. "That was kind of you, my Lady."

She thanked him, "could we find a river before our hunt? I wish to rid my hair of this blood before it becomes permanently red."

He laughed jovially, agreeing. "I do not think red hair would fit you. White is your color." He gestured towards her dress, then to her dragon, making her grin warmly.

🗡

Cregan led her to the nearest water source he could find, merely a small stream, but it would work just fine. Politely, Cregan turned away, although she wasn't taking any garments off. She snickered to herself at his chivalrous attitude, refusing to watch a lady wash her own hair. It took a lot of scrubbing and numb fingers before she was finally content, seeing no more red wash out.

"How does this look?" She asked the man behind her, who turned to inspect her. Wet hair still dripping onto her furs, she looked as lovely and youthful as ever. Her hair seemed longer, curls not yet bunching it up. "Beautiful, my Lady." He offered her a hand. Daenys hoped that her cheeks were not visibly red at the simple compliment as she was lifted by Cregan.

He smiled that secretive grin once again, walking ahead of her. "We will set a snare up first. Then, I'll teach you how to make a kill."

Daenys swallowed harshly. The last thing she wanted to do was kill another animal. She knew it was necessary, though. The Gods would not be spiteful for Daenys filling her stomach.

She followed Cregan into the denser part of the woods, carefully stepping in every place he did. After a while of her silence, he glanced behind himself with a concerned look, only to stifle a laugh at her delicate tiptoeing. He shook his head good-naturedly, grateful that she was trying.

Daenys watched him carefully set up a snare with the coil of metal wire in his pocket. They both crouched over it, leaving it in by a rabbithole before moving on to set another. This time, Cregan gently instructed her to do her own. It took a while, almost thrice the time he took, but he never got impaitient with her. Finally, she set the wire to the sticks coming out of the snow, triumphantly looking to Cregan for approval. "You're a natural born hunter, Princess." He declared, watching her smile with pride.

The two sat far from their many snares for hours, sitting against a sturdy pine. No words were needed as they kept a comfortable silence between them, Daenys finding herself struggling to stay awake with the peaceful atmosphere. Cregan glanced to her from her side, placing a hand over hers. He traced symbols, cracked joints, and tapped their fingers together rhymically to a pattern she followed by doing the same back to him. The focus kept her awake, her mind on the new task.

As the sun was near setting, Cregan led her to his snares first, picking up two rabbits and his wires. He whispered Northern words of respect for the animal before swiftly stabbing it in the heart. They inspected Daenys' next, finding one rabbit struggling in it. She hesitated to step forward, only urged on by Cregan. "Here," he handed her his dagger, a fine piece of steel that had a direwolf's head placed on the pommel. She kneeled next to the rabbit, thanking it quietly for its sacrifice. She took a deep breath it, releasing it as she stabbed into the white chest. Daenys paused a moment, grimacing. Blood stained her leather gloves, another reminder of the wolf. He would haunt her forever, it seemed. She clutched the rabbit gently in her arms, holding it like she held baby Aegon and Viserys. Cregan fondly smiled at her. "You did well, Princess." They collected the wire, walking back to the campsite. After wiping the dagger off with a kerchief, she handed it back to him.

Cregan gently pushed it to her chest, shaking his head. "Keep that one on you. So I know you're safe, even if we're apart."

Daenys, awestruck, nodding slowly. This was her first gift from a person that wasn't her kin and not a new dress or piece of jewelry. "I will keep it safe." She grinned up at him, earning a hearty chuckle.

They burned one of the rabbits over the fire, sharing it amongst themselves. It seemed like Dusk had gone on his own hunt, gnawing on the leftover bones of his dinner. While Daenys and Cregan settled into his tent for bed, she felt too tired to be nervous. His comforting scent surrounded her like a blanket, his warmth radiating throughout the tent. He slept without the furs of his cloak, a wonder that Daenys was curious about. Did he run so hot that the chill of night didn't bother him, only needing one fur blanket?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Daenys snuggled into the furs he had given her for her own tent, almost grumbling at their lack of distinct scent. The two fell asleep side by side, the purrs of Morningstar soothing them to sleep.

Daor havor - not food

a wolf does not care for blood

Kostagon aōha iemny sagon forever lēda sir - may your stomach be forever full now

beheadings have become a trend in westeros, i see. i just remembered robb's direwolf and how he was grey.

did you catch that double meaning lol

also rip grey wolf, you would have loved being housed and fed in Winterfell by Cregan

I'm thinking that Morningstar is the child of Silverwing and Vermithor since they're a mated pair. We don't know if they produce asexually or not, so idk. Definitely Silverwing's baby though, since she's the only white dragon alive, but when I imagine Morningstar I see a white smaller version of Vermithor, I adore his horn and face design.

Who knows, the dragons seemed to be random colors. Arrax is white and Vermax is green, even though Syrax is yellow and theres no male whites or greens

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #hotd #dragondreamer

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vilapollo-arts · 3 months ago

Text

hunger and yearning

pairing: Sylus x gn!reader

tags: nsfw, mdni, riding, doggy style, size difference, possessive Sylus, degradation, praise kink, mentions of breeding, creampie

note: not beta read. i just wanna spread the horniness

Sleeping while wrapped in silk sheets in a hotel luxury bedroom is a much deserved break after months of chasing after Wanderers. It’s been a while since you completed a whole eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. The curtains are still drawn, basking the room in shadows. Your morning is almost perfect, if it weren’t for the empty space beside you.

You crack one eye open to confirm that Sylus wasn’t there. You frown as the gray-haired man is nowhere to be seen. You grab your phone from your bedside table and open up your messages.

“Where are you?” you ask him.

He’s not replying. You sigh and slide off of the bed. You head into the kitchen. There’s already food on the counter. There’s a batch of pancakes with bananas and blueberries and a note beside it. You pick up the note to read it. Apparently, Sylus headed out to the gym to get some morning workout and he’ll be back after an hour. You look at the pancake and smile. He definitely cooked these all by himself.

You take a seat on the counter and grab a fork and a bottle of syrup. You open your phone and play a video as you eat your breakfast. You finish eating your breakfast and head to the living room. You take a seat on the fluffy couch and turn on the television to continue watching what you were watching on your phone.

Suddenly, you hear the lock to the hotel door signal that it’s being unlocked. Sylus enters the room, drenched in sweat. He spots you on the couch and immediately comes over to you.

“Good morning, sweetie,” he greets, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“Good morning,” you mumble back. You cup his cheek and look up at him. “I missed you. You weren’t beside me when I woke up.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You were asleep so I decided to get some exercise done before we head out. Don’t worry. You’ll have me for the rest of the day. I just have to take a shower first.” He pokes your nose and tries to pull away, but you won’t let him.

He tilts his head at you. You look back up at him and shift your shoulders. The loose pajamas you’re wearing slips off your shoulder. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him and a smirk immediately forms on his lips. You use this opportunity to slowly get up and guide him to sit on the couch. He obliges, maintaining his piercing gaze on yours. His large warm hands cup your hips as you plant both of your knees on either side of his thighs.

“Someone’s a little impatient today,” he teases as one of his hands travels down in between your legs. A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as he feels your excitement coat his fingers.

You stifle a moan, but your trembling legs give away how deprived you are of his touch. “It’s been a month,” you grumble. “And then I wake up without you on top of me. Tell me, who wouldn’t be impatient, huh?”

Sylus’ smirk grows wider as he watches your fingers fiddle with his sweatpants. “Poor little kitten,” he groans as your soft fingers wrap around his cock. “Well, I’m here now. Go on. Use me for your own pleasure.”

He’s already hard and dripping with precum. You press the head of his cock to your already twitching hole. He pushed your hips down, but not too forcefully. He still lets you sink down on this cock at your own pace, considering how he sees your jaw drop and your eyebrows scrunch up in pain.

“Are you alright, my love?” he whispers, leaning forward to start licking one of your nipples. His tongue swirls around the nub before lightly biting down.

“Mm-hmm!” you whine, throwing your head back. It hurts. You have forgotten how huge he was after a month of not being able to be this close to him. However, that spike of pain that shot throughout your body doesn’t stop you from taking him in. You know that you’ll feel sore after this but what matters right now is to have him inside of you.

You recover yourself and wrap your arms around his neck. You bury your head in his hair, taking in his scent. He smells so good. His body is still warm from his morning workout. You cling to him as you feel the entire length of his cock stretching you out.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re so tight, sweetheart.” He looks up at you. With the way his eyes are glazed over, you know that he’s trying his best not to start slamming his cock into you. “I can feel how your walls are holding onto my cock so tightly. Did you miss me that much, huh?”

You simply answer with a nod as you lift your hips up and slowly bounce on his lap. Your jaw laxes, letting small whimpers fill up the empty hotel room. As much as you want to go fast, every time you sink down on his cock, it feels like his tip is pressing against your stomach.

“That’s my good little slut,” he praises, keeping his eyes planted on your pained expression. “Come on, sweetie. Show me how much you missed me.” He runs his rough fingers down your thighs before suddenly slapping your skin. “And I’ll reward you with the proper fucking that you deserve.”

“Yes, baby,” you gasp as you start increasing your pace. You bury your face on the crook of his neck. Each inhale you take is accompanied with his musky scent. That paired with his low moans is driving your mind crazy. The thought of doing the same to him with your hole and moans urges you to keep going faster even though you feel yourself running out of breath.

His palm slaps your bouncing ass several times while your hole continues to devour his cock. The pain from earlier is now replaced with an immense pleasure that you craved for weeks. Even the stinging of your skin that he’s abusing with his hand is being translated into pleasure. Your brain is already muffled and the only thing you can focus on is his cock splitting you in half.

You don’t even register Sylus placing his arms beneath your legs. “Hang on tight, kitten. I’m bringing you to the bedroom,” he says. You do as he says before he stands up with his cock still shoved inside of you. Each step he takes towards the bedroom makes your whole body twitch.

You only realize the two of you are in the bedroom when you feel his cock slip out of you as he places you down on the silky sheets. You whine in protest, now feeling empty. “Sylus,” you plead. “Put it back inside. I want you. Please, please, please….”

He lets out a low chuckle as he crawls on top of you. “So impatient,” he teases, his cock in his hand. He slaps his shaft against your hole. “Are you sure you want me to make a mess of you, sweetheart? You think you’ll be able to keep up, hm?”

You pull your knees up to your shoulders, showing your wet and twitching hole. “I’m all yours, so please just fuck me,” you cry, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out.

He grinds his teeth together at the sight of you. “Fuck, you’re such a good little fucktoy,” he growls before shoving his entire length into you. Before you can even scream, he leans down to devour your lips and your tongue.

He wastes no time slamming his hips against yours. His pace leaves you breathless but wanting for more. You don’t even care when you feel his hand wrap around your neck and start to squeeze. With his mouth against yours and his hands squeezing your neck, your eyes start to roll at the back of your head, already feeling woozy and numb. All you can feel is his cock driving his cock into your needy hole.

“You look so pretty like this, sweetie,” he groans. “You don’t know how much I craved to see you fucking break on my cock. Every night, I came to the thought of your hole wrapped around my cock. I thought about fucking my come into you and breeding you. Maybe if I plant my seed deep inside you, you’ll have no reason to be away from me. Every night, I get to fuck you and fucking breed this greedy little hole of yours over and over.” He laughs as you let out a weak whine. “Oh, you’d like that, don’t you? You like having all my cum inside you, my dirty little slut?” He loosens his grip on your neck. “Answer me, darling,” he demands.

“Yes….yes! Please cum inside me!” you exclaim. “I want it deep inside me. Please I need your cum to fill me up!”

“That’s my good little kitten.”

He pulls out of you and throws your entire body around like you weigh nothing at all before pushing his cock back into you. He grabs your hips, his fingernails digging into your skin. Your screams start to fill up the room as he mercilessly pounds into you. A string of curses escapes lips, feeling your hole tighten up even more.

“Wai-wait! I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. “I’m gonna cum!!”

“That’s right. Cum for me, but I will not be slowing down for you. I want to feel your slutty hole squeeze my cock. I told you I’m not gonna hold back,” he whispers in your ear. “And I intend to keep. My. Promise.” He emphasized the last three words with a deep thrust. On the last thrust, your whole body seizes up.

As promised, he keeps on slamming into you. You haven’t even finished your first orgasm yet but it’s already followed by another one. Your hands try to hold onto something, anything.

Sylus groans in pain above you as your nails drag across his flexed arm. His eyes are in a daze as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head and your saliva drips out of your mouth. You looked so beautiful underneath him, under his mercy. Even if he did want to stop to let you catch your breath, the feeling of your walls squeezing him is preventing him from doing so. Your warmth is such an aphrodisiac to him.

“You’re so pretty, darling,” he pants. “Such a good little kitten for me.”

You whine in response. You want him to stop. Your whole body is currently oversensitive. You feel like you’re gonna pass out anytime soon.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus cooes. “I know. I’m almost there.. Just hold on until I can come inside you, okay? Don’t you want my cum pumping you full, hm?”

Your whole body shudders in excitement at the thought of him filling you up. With your brain turned into mush, all you can do is babble incoherent words.

Sylus understands though and presses his entire weight on top of you while continuing to fuck your brains out. You remain incoherent as he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers together. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. You belong to me and only me, you get that?” he grunts. “Nobody gets to have this body of yours but me.”

“Yes, yes, yes…yes!” you gasp. “I’m yours. I belong to you. Please treat me as your cumdump. I want to have all your cum inside me…oh god…please, please, please!”

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Sylus says. His hand slips around your neck once again and he squeezes as he increases his pace. You can hear his heavy breaths and moans against your ear. His sweat is dripping down your skin, surrounding you with his strong smell. You can feel his heavy balls slapping against you every time he slams himself into you.

Before you know it, you’re reaching your third orgasm. Sylus curses under his breath and buries his cock deep into you, filling up your stomach with his warm and thick cum. He doesn’t let go of your neck, loving the feeling of how tight you are the more he restricts your airflow. Only when he feels your body go slightly limp that he lets go of you. He lifts himself up and spreads your thighs before he slowly pulls out of you.

He groans as he watches his thick load escape your twitching entrance. He scoops it with the head of his cock and shoves it back inside. He does this repeatedly. Pulling out his cock completely before pushing all of the oozing cum back inside your hungry hole.

He then gently flips your entire body. He cups your face and presses a gentle kiss which you weakly reciprocate. “You think you can still walk for our lunch reservation, sweetie?” he asks, a smile on his face.

You chuckle and wrap your legs around his waist. “You should ask if I still want to go,” you reply. “I think I might want another round of you for lunch instead.”

Your partner laughs. “Anything you want, darling. You know I’ll always give you what you want,” he whispers before pulling you in for another tender kiss.

#digital illustration #digital art #love and deepspace x mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #my art #lads smut #lads sylus #love and deep space

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cyberrose2001 · 22 days ago

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HUMAN PET AU <3

Ratchet finally comes home from working all day at the med bay, the poor medic is tired as hell and just wants to relax in the comfort of his own berth. Fortunately enough, ratchet owns an exotic pet. A human he has grown fond of. They are fully trained and even have their own collar (with the message “Please return to Ratchet if lost” written on it), they have also learned how to help Ratchet de-stress by letting him use their hole as his personal flesh light <3 His happy little human loves becoming his cum dump to help him get his frustrations out, such a helpful little pet <33

any continuity of ratchet is fine (pick ur fav!), afab but gender neutral reader please and thank you moni 🙏❤️‍🩹

A Sight For Sore Optics - Human Pet AU

IDW/MTMTE Ratchet x human! afab! gn!Reader

Hi Gem! Thank you so much for your request, I was literally foaming at the mouth ready to write this. To make this more anatomically possible, Ratchet's spike transforms to a more "safer" size. So I hope this is good please be good (I haven't finished reading mtmte yet so forgive me). Also if I have missed any tags please let me know!

Warnings: Xenophilia, Size Kink, Collaring, Oral (both receiving and giving), Masturbation, Praise Kink, Cum Dumping, Mild Dubious Consent (?)

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Another day, another few thousand miles of endless space, another few sickly bots. Additionally, a few unkempt humans requiring attention due to poor conditions from their previous owners. With the new organic additions to the Lost Light at the captain's approval, Ratchet had found himself biting off more than he could chew, looking after bots and humans. Oh, how he wished he took up an organic health course or something other than primarily relying on Brainstorm's fervent research on the tiny creatures. Between juggling it all, Ratchet was unsure how much more his threadbare servos could take. Still, there was one thing the old medic was unmistakable about. He was tired.

One good thing, he must admit, is that he gets to return to you. His own human pet, a personal 'Thank you' gift on behalf of the entire crew for his selflessness and hard work, provided with you a basket with fundamental necessities. But the basket had long since been used up, and he had transformed it into a makeshift cot for you. It'll do for now, he had thought.

He was initially still trying to figure out what to think of you. Apart from very rudimentary health checkups and nutritional foods, there wasn't much that Ratchet could provide for you. There's not many enriching activities for such a tiny human like yourself. Until that is, he discovered something quite unusual that had been exhibited in almost every human adopted by the crew so far.

You have an insatiable libido.

Ratchet was unsure, if not downright nervous if other owners were to discover how incredibly beneficial humans could be. Whether or not they had already learned was an entirely different story. It wouldn't surprise Ratchet if that was the very reason why human pets were approved, though it seems shocking. It all seemed so innocent enough, adopting humans for the cuteness factor for the mechs on board. But as with most things, there's always more than just the surface level of what the optic sees. And Ratchet was already way too far below the surface.

Punching in the code for his hab suite, Ratchet waits eagerly for the door to open with twitching digits. He steps inside, tossing whatever work essentials he has on hand on the first bench he sees. He'll worry about reorganising later. Right now, he needs some pet therapy and a well-overdue overload. The dull ache behind his panels only gets stronger as his pedes carry him to his berthroom to you, curled up on his berth. It looked as if you neglected your rudimentary cot, choosing to sleep on his berth instead. The medic can't help the softened expression as he melts at the sight. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved, he never once expected it to be such an adorable little thing like you.

He lets his pedes wander over to you, like countless times before, careful and delicate. He always told himself that this 'fling' he had with you was only temporary and that it was purely for his curiosity, but he tends to find himself aching for you repeatedly. He can't help how his racing neurocircuits seem to fizzle out and calm down when he lies with you.

A roughened servo brushes over your hair to slowly stir you. It looked like you had been napping for some time now, which he believes is a good thing. Brainstorm did say that humans tend to sleep better in environments they consider comfortable. The gentle brushing causes you to stir and lift your head to greet him, though in a language yet to be deciphered. It's a pleasant greeting, and Ratchet can tell they're happy to see him. Something along the lines of 'I missed you,' he'd like to think.

"Hey, squishy. I missed you too," Ratchet smiles warmly. He brushes the hair away from your neck to reveal a collar, "You haven't ripped it off yet. Seems like you like it, hm?"

A slight, sleepy nod in confirmation, you've grasped at what he said. Ratchets' digits trail down to the collar, a small silver plate that reads 'Please Return to Ratchet If Lost - HabSuite ###" engraved in Cybertronian. Not that you tend to wander off, but more or less a just in case. Plus, he gets a thrill seeing his name attached to you. He thumbs it gently, admiring his handy work.

"I'm glad you do. It took me quite some time to make," Ratchet tugs at it softly, beckoning you to come closer. He watches you climb onto his lap, "Such tiny adornments are complex to create, 'specially with hands like mine." A servo cups your back, his thumb moving to play with your soft chest. He shivers when he hears a tiny whimper from you, and you seem eager to play with him already.

"I've had a busy day," A mechanical noise of shifting gears as his spike slides out of its housing, "I think you know what I need." It's well and truly bigger than you, much bigger than your tiny body could ever take. But the way your eyes light up in excitement assures Ratchet that you are more than pleased, already desperately taking off your quirky frame coverings. He eyes off your cute organic valve, notices how dripping wet it is, and staves off a moan.

"C'mere for a second," Ratchet scoops you into his servo to bring you closer to his face. He gets a whiff of your arousal, so earthy and addicting. The more you spread your thighs for him, the more he can smell. He brings you to his intake and licks one hearty stripe up your folds.

Oh yes, he thinks. Better than energon. Better than any high grade to ever pass his dermas, like a warm drink that soothes and revitalises his senses. It thickens on his glossa, groaning at the taste as he swirls it around your little node. He watches intently as you squeal in delight, your thighs trembling around his cheeks and how your little face contorts into one of pleasure. Well, he had always presumed it was in pleasure; you've never exactly shied away from his glossa. He hums when you feel him grinding, desperate little ruts chasing the vibrations.

Ratchet licks one last time at your slick, pulling away to observe. Oral lubricants coat your valve thickly, the sensitive area reddened from his torment. His optics wander up; your soft skin is already flushed and glistening with sweat. He wonders how close you were to overloading; it wouldn't have taken much longer if he had kept going. But his spike grows restless, throbbing against his abdominal plating, begging to be touched by much softer palms than his own.

"Do you want my spike? Hm?" Ratchet teases, "My big spike?" He knows you can't fully understand him, but he can't help but vocalise his salacious fantasy. Holding onto you carefully, he lounges back onto the berth. He bites his bottom derma and lowers you to his lap, showing you his engorged spike, "Go on then, have at it. I'll frag your little brains out soon."

With an encouraging nudge from Ratchet, you straddle the shaft. To anyone else, it looks ridiculous. A tiny human desperately attempting to wrap their arms around a spike that's two times taller than they are. But to any depraved fleshy fragger, it's a sight to behold. Ratchet once thought of snapping a picture to potentially maybe sell it to the highest bidder for those who crave the feeling of such a soft body grinding on them, for he is sure there's a market out there somewhere, probably more than half of the crew onboard. Still, the shame of it all prevents him. There's an image to uphold being the resident medic.

Besides, he'd much prefer to keep you and that curious tongue all for himself.

He feels your little licks along him, a tiny tongue wiggling through the grooves and smooth surface, reaching crevices with hidden nodes that cause his pedes to curl. Soft ruts of your hips press your soaked valve right up against him. He knows what you want. The medic brings a servo to grip around his spike with you squished between, only tight enough to keep you in place as he begins self-servicing himself. He hears you letting out a surprised gasp, then a muffled moan, feeling your grip tighten around him.

"Yeah? You like that, squishy?" Ratchet moans, moving his servo slightly faster, "I bet you-nghh do. You look so cute like that. So tiny pressed against my spike."

Only a taste of your warmth is given through your body, like the little tease you are. Ratchet feels the perspiration dripping off you, likely due to the rise of his internal temperature and the energon being solely diverted to his array. It makes for a mediocre yet acceptable lubrication. He could spike you with it alone, but Ratchet prefers to use alternate practices in the interest of your health. Primus knows how careless other Cybertronians can be with their pets.

The medic is becoming increasingly aware of his overload and yours by the looks of things, your little optics squeezed shut, and your limbs clamped tight around his girth. He consciously decides to stop before you reach it. The idea of you squirming on his spike played on his processor a bit too well. He hears your soft whine at the loss of friction, which Ratchet can't help but chuckle at.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean, aren't I? Hold on, squishy." Ratchet lets you rest against his palm while his weeping spike whirs and clunks inwards to a much more manageable size for a human. His spike may be smaller, but there's not much difference in sensation. Thank Primus for the minicon-compatability modes, "You alright?"

A small squeak from you, yes. The medic watches intently as you waste no time climbing on, guided by his careful servo. You press your little valve against the tip, hissing as it barely slips through. Ratchet digs his pedes into the berth at the intense sensation, gritting his dentae as you bottom out. The feeling is incomparable to anything else; it's uniquely organic, warm, and so, so much softer than mesh.

He then wraps his entire servo around you, effectively turning you into one perfect spike sleeve only for him. Perfectly snug inside you, his grip clenches and unclenches around your torso before gently unsheathing himself from you again.

Ratchet is always careful when he uses you in this manner, ensuring his grip isn't too tight. He pushes you back down again, and he feels you melt into his servo. He hears your little whimpers and cries for him, to go faster, he believes. He learned a long ago that he doesn't need to understand your verbal mumbles when your fleshy hips try to hastefully force yourself down onto him, only halted by his own hand. His grip ever so tightens and gives in to your desperation, or more or less his own.

"You're so good for me, squishy. Hah- Lettin' me use your little valve like a toy." Ratchet mewls, his helm lolling off to the side as his optics flick between your face and the way his spike disappears inside you, "Such a helpful little pet you are."

He feels your velvet walls clamp down on him with each and every praise he gives, your little arms draped over the top of his thumb, clinging on for dear life. Every now and then, he massages your breasts pressed up against it, eliciting more dirty moans from you. Such softness that he can't help but take advantage of.

"So- ngh- tight," Ratchet vents heavily, "Primus, you've ruined me for my own race."

He felt a twinge of shame hearing himself; it was as if he had entirely let himself go. But he knows he can no longer turn back, not when you're the best little creature to ever stumble into his life. Despite him having you wrapped around his digits, it is indeed him wrapped around yours. The relief you bring to him after every gruelling shift, after every stressful day upon this damned ship, had him truly addicted.

And with an internal affirmation of decadence and with your soft little valve clenching and pulsing around his spike, he's sent right over the edge.

"Frag yes, sweetspark!-" He glitches out, pressing you down on his thick shaft as far as your soft little body can tolerate. His energon pulses deeply and shocks his entire body with an overload, shooting gush after gush of transfluids into you. His frame lurches forward, his hips driving into the berth as he milks his throbbing spike, his servo driving it deeper into you in a lust-filled daze. Your whines and cries only spur him on more, and he doesn't stop until you're shaking like a leaf in his hold.

It takes only a few more moments for a spent Ratchet to collapse back with you still in his grip, albeit slumped against his thumb. You're panting hard, and he can only just feel your tiny heart pounding against him. You must have had your own overload by the looks of it if the bliss-filled smile on your soft lips is anything to go by. His optics linger down to your soft, distended stomach and the dripping mess that splatters across your thighs and onto his pelvic plating. Now that truly is a sight for sore optics, he thinks to himself.

Ratchet huffs, bringing his other servo to pat the top of your head, "Now there's my happy little human, huh?" He smiles warmly when he feels you leaning into his touch, "How 'bout I fill you up some more?"

If this was what it took for the old medic to de-stress and relax, then so be it. If he were to be exposed to the rest of the crew, then may he join the rest of them. In secret, for now, he will proudly declare himself a lover of organic flesh.

#transformers x reader #transformers x human reader #idw mtmte #mtmte #idw ratchet #mtmte ratchet #mtmte x reader #mtmte ratchet x reader #idw ratchet x reader #human pet au #first contact au #valveplug #cyberrosewrites

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janumun · 2 months ago

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Faaaaa my babyyyy, I'm here as promised. 🥺🥺 We already talked about this in dms and you seemed so interested so can you write the lads men reacting to mc's death, please pretty please

When You Are Gone [All LaDS Men - Angst Headcanons]

Rated: SFW - Angst Tags: hurt/no comfort, poorly dealing with the death of a loved one

Summary: The LaDS men dealing with the aftermath of your death, in the heartbreaking messages they leave in your voicemail almost regularly even long after you’re gone, in an effort to cope with your loss.

Author’s Notes : Hey darling, absolutely! Here you go. Hope you enjoy (?). 😭 This headcanon’s a bit differently formatted because I was inspired by the game’s speech to text function.

Sylus

TW: knowingly putting oneself in danger, mortally wounded Sylus, insomnia, mild spoilers for Razor’s Grip ASMR

Transcript:

Hey there! You’ve reached my voicemail, which is a rare occurrence. That either means I do not know recognize your caller ID. Orrrr you are a certain infuriating Boss Man, trying to calling me up at all ungodly hours of the night again. Whoever you are, leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you ASAP.

A heavy snort of sour laughter rolls past bruised lips, to hear the familiar automated sound of your voice playing on the other end of the line; one Sylus does not tire of no matter how many times he’s heard it. A thick, punishing burst of pain fractures across his torso when he chokes up on the blood gurgling within his throat.

Sylus reaches to curb the sound within a bloodied fist, clearing his throat to speak once more.

I suppose I did deserve all your reprimands, seeing as I am still calling you way past your bedtime, kitten.

His voice lowers an octave, slow, gentle.

I hope you’re having a good dream.

I’m only calling because you told me to let you know anytime I’d be away on a risky mission. A hushed chuckle sounds on the other end of the line.

You'd practically ordered it of me — do you remember?

The night when you grabbed me by the lapels and asked me to not make a deal all on my own, ever again. That you worried for me whenever I was gone and you wanted to know the next time I planned on taking a mission, of this caliber.

You’d willingly walked back to me and since then, I have always made space for you, just like you’ve wanted.

I’ve kept up my end of our bargain.

A guttural moan of pain sounds through the otherwise quiet of the night.

These wounds of mine... functioning without sleep for this long, and a poor decision made on my end, the combination was bound to have consequences.

His chuckles knell throaty, labored.

And now, all I wish to do is sleep.

A lengthy silence follows after, making one believe the user on the other end of the line might’ve cut the call. Or fallen asleep in exhaustion of his wounds, like he said.

Before that gentle burr of his sounds once more.

You know I can’t die, sweetie, unfortunate as that is in this moment.

But I do have a wish for when my body inevitably loses its awareness for the short time it takes to recuperate.

I hope, Sylus’s voice softens. that when I close my eyes this time, I get to see you in my dreams.

Zayne

TW: allusions to embalming a body long after death, mentions of a protocore heart that continues to function even after the host’s death, denial of grief

Transcript:

Hi, you’ve reached my voicemail. I am currently unavailable but drop me a message and I’ll get back to you, stat.

A quiet insouciant voice — the clearing of a throat — begins on the other end of the line.

Akso Hospital Log 171, the time right now is 4:17 AM. The host’s heart continues to function, although its less-than-optimal cardiac output remains at 1L per min. A pulse rate of 13 beats per min has been documented today. A slight decrease from its value yesterday, recorded at 17 beats per minute.

A brief pause.

Does it bother you to hear me speak of you this way? I’m sorry. A mere force of habit on my part. You are my patient, after all. Documentation must be precise, and to the point, for our research to progress, if we are to have even a sliver of a chance at resuscitating your heart.

I have hope we will succeed; I will do my utmost as a doctor so that we may save you.

Another pregnant pause.

Do you too think I am foolish for my efforts?

Greyson accosted me in the hallways tonight after my scheduled surgery and he seemed so... incensed. For being unable to give up on you, for crossing a line, to not get overtly attached to any of our patients, he said it was a clear violation of our Oath and called it my professional failing. And afterwards... he implored that I give up now.

Someone once asked me, long ago: if I would go beyond death to try and bring back the person I loved, were they to pass away. And I answered that I would not, a desecration of the dead is not something I’d wish to do. Or wish upon the deceased. I would rather divert all my efforts to ensuring they would live, that their heart would continue to beat healthy.

So, in retrospect, it is Greyson who’s strange in expecting my willing defeat, without having even tried to the best of my capabilities. Not when your heart still continues to beat.

I do, however, miss you... very much, even though hope remains in my heart.

When the day comes that you wake up, I hope you do not have to suffer like this, ever again.

Rafayel

TW: gradual loss of vision, self-blame

Transcript:

Hi, hello! I’m unable to answer your call at the moment but hey, feel free to drop me a voice message and I’ll get back to you soon. Bye-bye!

A sharp inhale; as if the person on the other end of the line is wracked by sudden, vicious pain.

Before the sound smoothens out, as if it had never been. An airy voice begins, although the nonchalant inflection to his tone sounds odd, all wrong — a fact the recipient of the voicemail would’ve been able to parse instantly, were they still around.

Hey cutie! It’s me again, your favorite person in the entire world.

Sorry about that earlier, I always get a bit startled whenever I hear you say good-bye in that crazy adorable voice.

Since y’know, the very last time we met, you never told me you were leaving.

Silence descends.

It really feels like it’s been another 800 years, I fear the fish will actually start flying and the whales will start walking this time.

Only, I don’t think you’re coming back this time, are you?

My bride can be so cruel sometimes.

A humorless laugh.

Anyyyyway, I’m dropping a voice note today because my eyesight’s been acting up a bit lately so I can’t really leave you a text like I usually do.

And before you scold me about it, I know I’m not supposed to be painting this long but I’m close to completing this new painting of you and I can’t rest until it’s done and dusted.

Don’t hate me for it, pretty?

A pleased, wistful sound.

I really wish you were here so I could show it to you right now.

A strident crash sounds in the background of the caller as paintbrushes overturn along with a color palette; garnet red and deep purple staining his floor a macabre color Rafayel cannot perceive in that moment.

Whoa, now that’s gonna leave a mess from the sounds of it.

Whatever, I’ll clean it up later once I get my sight back.

The point is, cutie, I’ll share a snap of the completed painting with you once it’s done.

Be prepared to be absolutely blown. So dazzled you fall head over heels in love with me.

And then perhaps... return, if you like it and me enough.

His sigh is steeped in mild vexation.

Waiting hurts.

Having you not remember our time together, in every lifetime we meet, hurts. It really is all your fault, you know.

A soft, disgruntled moue you can hear within his words.

But I hope, in our next life, we don’t cross paths.

That way, you won’t be forced to sacrifice yourself for my sake, ever again, you silly girl.

A throttled sound; it almost sounds like a wretched moan of pain.

I don’t want our bond to shackle you down anymore so I think... I’ll let you go now.

A human like you far suits the sun, not being saddled down below within turbulent seas.

So, this will be our final farewell now.

The words nearly scraped free of his throat on a rasped sound.

Goodbye, my beloved bride.

I loved—

Beep. Your message has been recorded and sent.

Caleb

Transcript:

TW: very brief traumatic remembrance of your demise

Hi hi! You’ve reached the ever-diligent Miss Hunter’s voicemail. I’m probably out on a mission right now so I’m unable to respond but I’ll get back to you ASAP if you drop me a message instead!

A soft chuckle warms the air in fond recollection to hear your voice. The knot of Caleb’s brow furrowing deeper as he tries to imprint that cheery voice into his skull to overwrite the sounds of your pained screams still knelling within his ears.

Before he clears his throat to begin.

Hello to you too, pipsqueak.

It’s your 25th birthday today and I thought I’d record this little memento for us.

Happy Birthday, my tiny hurricane of disaster. I really miss you, you know, even if you don’t seem to.

He chuckles in resignation.

I should’ve let you bother me more often if I knew you were going to be this terrible at keeping in touch with your best friend later.

We really didn’t have much time together once I returned from my posting abroad. Work kept you so busy.

I should’ve scolded you more often about taking appropriate breaks in between missions. God.

A gentle laugh resounds on the other end of the line.

Reprimanding you like a dad used to be Zayne’s job among us three, not mine.

The tiniest of fractures slip into his voice.

Anyway, I’ve kept to my side of the bargain we made while I was away from Linkon; to leave you regular voice messages about my day and I guess the habit’s just... stuck.

I visited the grocery store earlier to shop for ingredients to whip up your favourite parmesan risotto tonight.

It was almost like you were with me, you know.

With each item I passed by; from the strawberries you love to inhale to your favourite cola displayed, front and center, within their fridge. I almost picked one up for you before I—

He visibly halts himself, his breathing somewhat erratic. Before he resumes once more.

That nice kid you’re friendly with was manning the counter today and he recognized me almost instantly. All thanks to being towed around the Supermart with you, no doubt.

He even gave me a nice discount on the items when I told him I was whipping up a birthday dinner for you.

A short pause.

The risotto was pretty good, if I do say so myself. I wish you could’ve tasted it too.

Sorry I didn’t bake a birthday cake for you this year because it’s just me in the house now.

I don’t have a certain cute girl, with a crazy sweet tooth, to eat it with me and you know I’m not really fond of sweets.

His voice drops into a hushed sound, wrought with emotion.

Time flew by so fast. It seems like only yesterday when we were both kids, huddled around a coffee table with you trying your best to blow out the candles on the cake Grandma baked for us on your birthday.

He laughs softly.

You had a difficult time growing up because of your heart but you were always so brave.

I wish I could’ve spoiled you more often. If only I knew then that our time together would be so short.

His voice breaks into a slight tremor.

Your Caleb really misses you... every day of my excruciating life.

But... I hope that now... wherever you are, you aren’t in pain anymore.

If there is a life after this one, I hope you let me find you in it, too.

I love you, little spitfire.

End of voice message.

Xavier

TW: space travel, personal logging of a journey, self-imposed isolation and neglect

Transcript:

Hi there, you’ve reached my voicemail as I’m unable to attend your call at the moment. Leave a message after the beep and I’ll be sure to get back to you soon!

Hi to you too, angel.

It’s been a while since I’ve left you a message, hasn’t it?

I’m sorry, I’ve been facing some turbulence anomalies ever since my ship hit the Bode’s galaxy so I’ve been a bit occupied.

Where were we last time?

Ah, I told you how Jeremiah’s shop has been thriving on Earth lately, because I remembered you saying you wanted to know how he was doing the last time we spoke.

You never got the chance to see for yourself after.

He pauses.

I didn’t want to tell you at the time because you and Jeremiah really seemed to be growing close as friends and that bothered me.

Forgive me?

A shift of gears sounds within the quiet interior of the spaceship as Xavier adjusts a few controls.

I know these logs will never reach you but I still want to talk to you about our journey.

I never...

His voice drops; the sliver of a whisper.

got to show you this small planet I found while out on my travels, a long time ago. I named it Uluru. It’s a red rock planet, you see.

I told you about it once and you said you’d really like to go see it someday. “Xavier’s own planet,” you said.

I think you were teasing me then. But I wanted to tell you, it’s not just Xavier’s planet but “Xavier and MC’s little planet”.

I didn’t have the chance to show it to you while you were still—

A violent catch of breath followed by a soft curse, cleaves through the quiet.

A low exhale before that quiet voice picks up once more.

Uluru is reaching the end of its life soon after all these lightyears and I wanted to go together with you to see our planet one last time before it died.

As for what I’ll do after...

A pause and a thoughtful hum, follows.

I think I’ll stay there once I’ve witnessed its demise.

Earth no longer has any springs for me to return to now that you’re gone and Philos — well I can’t return to that place anymore.

So, I think I’ll stay, among the ruins of the place that was supposed to be our home.

With you.

End Notes: Thank you for reading! I know many of us wept about how we wished for God to take all of Zayne’s pain and give it to us instead so here I am, happy to do exactly that. 😇 Happy Zayne story branch release, y’all.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated if you are so inclined, lovelies!

Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical

If you have not been tagged, it’s because I can’t tag you due to tagging permissions turned off on your end.

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

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sttoru · 9 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER I: you finish your last lecture of the day and head to get dinner before returning to your dormitories. you stumble upon an injured figure on your way home, laying in a dimly lit alley. despite the fear in your heart, you decide to reach out towards the unknown man in need of help.

wc. 3.7k

tags. assassin!toji x female reader. sfw; fluff-ish, angst. reader's best friend oc appearance (yona). mentions of murder, blood, knives, anxiety. general warnings for all parts of the series: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's).

ten seconds. you shut down your laptop and close it. nine seconds. you put your laptop in your tote bag. eight seconds. you close your books and do the same. seven seconds. you put your coat on. six seconds. you check your phone for any messages.

five seconds. you’re thinking about what to eat once you arrive home. four seconds. you decide on a pack of noodles. three seconds. you realise that you’ve ran out of them. two seconds. you make up your mind to go to your local supermarket. one second. you stand up from your seat.

“..that’s all, students. have a nice day and i’ll see you at our next lecture.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips. you’re finally freed from the shackles of your statistics class. not like you’ve paid much attention to what your professor had been yapping about anyway. it was too boring. the daydreaming you did about your potential future boyfriend and all the cheesy romantic stuff you’d do together was all the more important.

“earth to my best friend,” your friend’s voice snaps you back into reality. you look to your side and find yourself apologising for not hearing her the first time. yona chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

“i asked if you had any plans after the lecture,” she continues whilst scrolling through her phone. you take a peek at her screen and notice that she’s already looking up available restaurants in the area.

you’re grateful that she’s looking out for you in her own way, but you’ve already made up your mind. a pack of your favorite ramen noodles will fill you for tonight. you’re low on cash this month anyway. a fancy restaurant would have you surviving on water for the rest of the week.

“ah, i actually do. gotta go grocery shopping ‘n stuff,” you pout apologetically before buttoning up your coat. yona nods in understanding, knowing the struggles of being a college student.

“aww, all right. we’ll go next time then,” she replies with a smile.

you walk out of the building with your friend by your side, chatting about how boring the lecture was. of course, you also learn all about the recent gossip around campus. yona is practically your plug for that.

“did you hear about that one girl that allowed her boyfriend to stay with her in her dorm room for a whole month and then got snitched on by her roommate?” yona snickers, not caring if anyone around you could hear the gossip.

you raise an eyebrow in surprise. your university has strict rules about guests staying over in the dormitories. they can spend a day or two, but you’d have to sign them in. plus the resident assistants usually check the rooms for any unusual activity every other week.

to hear someone had gotten away for a whole month is quite a surprise.

“he could’ve stayed for longer if it wasn’t for the roommate snitching,” yona continues and rolls her eyes. she takes a quick snack from her bag and bites into it.

you shake your head and shrug, making sure you don’t trip and fall down the stairs whilst you’re talking, “guess the roommate got enough of the random man in their room. i mean—they pay for that room as well. not like the girl is the only one living there.”

yona nods and turns a right. you follow, your eyes scanning the busy hallways. some students are rushing between the crowd to catch their train and others are making their way to their next two hour lecture. those poor souls.

“mhm. i wouldn’t wanna live with a man i don’t know either,” yona eventually adds after swallowing the last bite of her snack, “let alone for a whole month.”

she throws the wrapper in a nearby garbage can—which is overly full already. talk about a ‘hygienic’ school.

“right,” you shiver as the thought gets put into your head. a random man living with you. . . sounds like a nightmare. you’ve heard enough stories about how dirty they can be. in both the physical and mental aspects.

after some walking - and getting annoyed by random people who block your way due to how slow they’re moving - you reach the exit of the building. yona stretches her arms and grabs her phone before turning to you.

“anyway, see you later, hun!” she enthusiastically gives you a hug. you return the affectionate gesture with a gentle smile, rubbing her back. you exchange your last words before both going your own ways.

music plays in your ears as you walk down the street. the wind blows against your face. it’s a cold day. you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to rain in a bit.

‘gotta be fast’, you think. you are not carrying an umbrella with you, so you’d have to hurry back with your groceries. your legs pick up their pace and pass all traffic as fast as they can.

it takes you quite a while to get to your destination. that’s the drawback of living in such a packed city like tokyo. there is no way to move, especially in the evening, when everyone is returning home.

you reach a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn blue. whilst you’re waiting next to a bunch of people, your eyes wander across the scenery. from the huge billboards to your right to the multiple cars to your left.

your gaze stops at one specific billboard. it’s playing some of the latest news. a recent incident had taken place just a few kilometres north from your university. three people had been found cruelly murdered in their apartments.

the definite cause of their deaths is still unknown. there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, even when reports say that all three victims had been killed in the same way.

they speculate that the person involved must have been quite skilled—someone who’s done this multiple times before. there are absolutely zero traces of them left neither. the only reason they’re able to conclude that it is indeed a homicide, are the similar wounds left on the victims’ bodies.

another comment from the investigation team shows that there might be a survivor who’s escaped the cold blooded killer. that person is now considered missing.

the police are still thoroughly investigating the matter; that’s all you get to know before the news reporter moves on to the next subject.

you look down at your shoes. such scary stuff does make you afraid. you’re living on your own after all. you’d be less scared if you had a roommate, but you currently don’t.

some call you lucky for that since it’s a rare occurrence, yet you still wish you had someone living with you. that would make walking back home at night less stressful.

the increase of footsteps around you makes you realise that the light turned blue—a sign for you to cross the street. you eventually reach the other side. you tilt your head back, anxiously staring at the sky.

‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,’ you chant in your head. like the weather is going to listen to your desperate pleas. you rush inside of the supermarket.

you’ve been here often enough to know which products are in what aisle. you scurry over to the ramen, grabbing two packs. you get a few snacks along the way. unhealthy crap, that’s what you’re surviving on.

you stand in line at the cashier. you tap your shoe and bite your lip, your gaze fixated on the sky outside. you beg god to give you just a few more minutes. a few more minutes of drought.

you check your phone and go through your recent notifications to kill time. you swipe left on almost all of them—none being time sensitive or urgent anyway.

you greet the cashier politely once it’s your turn and allow him to scan your products for you. you await for him to announce your total before handing him your debit card. your eyes flicker over to the television hanging right behind the cashier’s head.

that gruesome news again. twice in a row. you shiver and try not to think about it. your mind is already overthinking the entire thing; what if you’re next?

well, that should be the least of your worries. you grab the plastic bag and walk to the exit of the supermarket, taking a deep breath. what you actually should be worried about is getting home dry.

“just my luck,” you mutter under your breath. your prayers are left unanswered as the first few drops of rain fall on your head. you kiss your teeth in annoyance.

you can’t help but silently agree as a couple walks past you, complaining about the sudden change of weather. you watch as a few more people rush past you with their bags above their head.

looking at the bright side of things, you won’t be the only one who’s running home with a bag as a shield against the rain and wind.

you take a deep breath again and mentally prepare yourself for the quick journey you’re going to make. you look to the left and then the right. when the coast is clear, you dash into the direction of your dormitory.

the rain is not letting up. you rush past a few people, those carrying umbrellas walking the slowest of them all. ‘damn them’, you think, ‘they have it the easiest right now.’

you turn a corner and nearly bump into a woman. you politely apologise before continuing your little run home. damp droplets run down your forehead. the rain is already starting to block your vision.

you tightly hug your tote bag to your chest with one arm. the last thing you want is for your laptop to get water damage. you’ve wasted tons of money on that thing to help you get through college.

you look down at the plastic bag with your food. that’ll survive. at least you think it will.

you squint. the rain is only getting worse and thus your blurry vision will as well. you try blinking the water away, but end up making it worse for yourself.

great.

your shoes are going through it. the deep puddles you’ve run through leave the material moist and you can already feel the droplets seep into your socks.

greaaat.

you turn a left. this narrow street is one you hate to be near when it’s dark. it’s a fast shortcut, but also a scary one since it’s isolated from the bustling main streets.

you think back to the cruel news you’ve heard earlier. scary images flash through your mind. your heart races a thousand miles per hour. you once again make up a doom scenario that could possibly happen.

what if the killer on the run is going after you next?

it doesn’t make sense, logically, but everything is possible now that your anxiety has overtaken your rational thoughts. you have no connections to those victims and yet you think you’re next.

you are next.

you whimper out of fear. it feels like the walls of this narrow street are closing up on you the faster you run. you look over your shoulder, excepting someone to be there—following you.

no one is there. you turn your head again and run as fast as you can. if only you had someone with you. someone who’d console you and tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

that’s the worst thing about the entire situation: nobody seems to pass by this backstreet. the only things that could possibly give you any sense of comfort are the random boxes and trash laying around.

time seems to slow down once you see the end of the backstreet. there’d actually be people once you make it through. you gulp and give yourself the motivation to get over there without scaring yourself any further.

the shadows looming over you due to the lack of lightning in this alleyway creep you out. the entire atmosphere is eerie—like something or someone can jump out of those shadows and grab you by the ankles. drag you into the darkness and finish you off there.

you want to return to those vibrant lights you know so bad. you do.

your eyes are so intensely focused on the end of the streets to the point that you forget your surroundings. it’s already too late to realise that you’re tripping over something. you process that you’ve lost your balance when you’re already mid-fall.

your body lands on the wet ground with a loud thud. luckily enough, your hands touched the concrete first, softening the fall for your head. you grunt and groan; it still hurt.

your ears pick up on the sound of running water. your head lays right next to a broken pipe that’s leaking water onto the pavement. cold droplets fall in a rushed rhythm.

“ah, fuck.”

your eyes widen. the sound of a man behind you sends a shiver down your spine. is that why you tripped? did he make you trip?

‘i’m so done,’ you conclude quietly. it’s probably the killer you’ve heard about—the one who’s coming for you next. just like you had thought.

you shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the strike that would finish you. like the wounds that had finished the other victims. though, it never comes. the stabbing doesn’t happen.

the only thing you can pick up on is heavy breathing. low grunts, barely audible. the sound of cloth ripping. a man mumbling under his breath.

you sit up on your knees and look over your shoulder. slowly, little by little.

the revealed sight is like a dream. or a nightmare. you don’t know which it is. perhaps a mixture of both.

all you know is that this is the last thing you expected to see. the last thing you expected to experience today. you feel your heart drop and you freeze in place.

you’ve seen your own fair share of blood, but this is simply too much. it’s like time has stopped for you. like time has stopped inside of this backstreet.

the world outside of this alleyway continues moving. the people keep walking, chatting and living their lives. the rain keeps falling. as if nothing is occurring at the moment.

as if there is no bloodied man on the dirty ground, leaning against the wall, with crimson stained hands clutching his abdomen. his wet bangs cover his eyes which makes his identity even more mysterious.

you probably tripped over his leg that’s stretched out in front of him; also bloody. you feel bad for not noticing him earlier. your own selfish desires to get out of this alley caused you to overlook a person in need of urgent aid.

you don’t think twice before reaching out towards him. it’s like your body moves on its own command—not waiting for your brain to figure out what to do.

“oh my god,” you’re shaking badly, but your body crawls closer to the injured figure. you don’t think twice. something you have always taught yourself to do before diving into unfamiliar situations.

not right now, however. you don’t hesitate to check up on the stranger. if you didn’t see his chest moving with each shaky breath, you’d have concluded that he’s dead.

“s-sir?” you panic. what do you do? you’ve never landed in such a predicament before. you look to your left and then to your right. no one to help you nor the bloodied man.

he doesn’t reply to your voice. that further worsens your anxiety. your eyes wander down towards the man’s abdomen. the wound was deep and painful, that much you can tell from the way he’s holding tightly onto it.

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

right—the piece of cloth he’s keeping against the wound. that’s what you do to try and stop the bleeding. the warm red liquid stains the man’s baggy pants. his black shirt is nearly ripped to shreds, the material hanging on by a thread. literally.

“uhm, uh,” you look around and spot your bag on the floor. in a puddle. you pray that your laptop has made it. you don’t recall having anything with you that could help treat wounds.

you gulp and hastily take off your scarf. you carefully kneel in front of the half-conscious man. his head is held low. you don’t know if he can even hear you.

you reach your hand out towards him, aiming for his own bloody hands that hold onto his abdomen. you cringe due to the sight, but try your best to be of assistance.

the man hisses the moment you touch the his hand. your fingers stop mid-air, not wanting to touch him if he didn’t want to.

what am i thinking?

now is not the time for that. he’s bleeding out and you have this urge to get him to safety as soon as possible. even if you’re internally panicking because of the huge responsibility that fate has suddenly assigned you.

“i’ll call an ambulance. please hold on,” you try to be reassuring, however your choked up voice betrays your true feelings. you change the old cloth with your scarf, pressing it tightly against his injury.

you fish out your phone from your pocket using your other hand. the rain makes it hard to do anything. your screen is wet, your vision blurry. you type in the first number of the emergency services.

suddenly, a bigger hand swats yours, causing your phone to go flying to the other side of the street. you watch with wide eyes as your cellphone comes to a stop right next to a big puddle of rain.

you whip your head to the direction of the injured figure in front of you. the man tries to lifts his head, slowly, so he could look you in the eye. your heart stammers in your chest.

“sir, you’re bleeding out, you need to—“

“i don’t need anythin’.”

you don’t dare to move nor let out a single breath. you can feel the tip of a sharp blade rest under your chin—nearly penetrating the flesh. one wrong move and you will lose your life.

the man had moved too fast for you to even process. you don’t know how you even ended like this. with a bloody knife to your throat and an unknown man’s face right up against yours.

“leave,” the stranger demands. you know he’s not to be messed with, even in his weakened state, “i don’t need y’r help.”

his voice sounds rough. deep and raspy. it shakes you to your core—makes you listen to what he has to say. it’s hypnotising. a gust of wind blows over the both of you.

his bangs move and your gaze finally meets his. the background noises fade for a split second. your entire focus is on those beautiful emerald orbs staring into your own eyes. they’re gorgeous.

they're gorgeous; even if they lack that sparkle of life. his eyes tell stories—the rough journeys this man probably had to endure throughout the years. you’ve never seen such a sight. it tugs at your heartstring and urges you to help him.

you don’t know where these feelings came from, but amidst your anxiety, there’s an underlying desire to take care of him.

you shake your head, showing your unexpected defiance. you’re playing with fire. you know that all too well and yet you don’t care.

“no. i won’t leave,” your breath hitches. you notice the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes. he looks like he’s going to lose consciousness any second now. though his grip on the knife tells another story, “i won’t leave you alone. not like this.”

the injured stranger grunts in annoyance, but also in pain. your persistence makes him want to shove you to the side. to leave this place already and find a way out on his own. he doesn’t want your help.

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #toji x you #please give it lots of love 🙇🏽‍♀️

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bg-brainrot · 9 months ago

Text

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question.

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts.

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions.

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort.

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart.

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this?

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

–

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion fic #love at first knife #tadfools tomfoolery #astarion fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion pov #astarion is bad at feelings #proposal fic

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astarionfreak · 10 months ago

Text

At least you purr for me

// Astarion (Spawn) / Reader (Fem!Tav)

You've been faking orgasms your entire life. And yes, you even faked during that night in the forest with Astarion. After a couple bottles of wine, the truth comes out and Astarion wants to rectify the situation.

18+ • NSFW • 6.3K words (1/1) | Read on AO3 (a teaser is available below)

Tags: Smut, first orgasm, masturbation, inappropriate use of tadpole, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, vampire bites

Astarion’s body language is relaxed, but you can tell that something has changed. Your little confession earned you his full attention. He’s going to try to fuck you again, isn’t he?

Then you feel it, that familiar tug inside your mind. Your breath catches in your throat.

Is it true, what you said?

You nod.

I’d like to discuss this further with you if you’re interested?

You shrug.

Not the resounding ‘yes’ I was hoping for, darling.

Astarion leans back on one hand and takes a slow sip of wine from the goblet in his other hand.

It’s also not a ‘no.’

Astarion responds to something Karlach said. It earns him another laugh from the group. You’re still not focusing on the actual words being exchanged, you’re just watching Astarion.

Yes, well, now that I have all the information on your little . . . predicament. I’d like to try again.

There it is. Another man treating you like you’re a poor, broken thing that desperately needs him to be cured.

I don’t need you to fix me, Astarion.

You’re staring at him now, but he seems to be hardly paying you any attention. Even though he’s actively inside your mind.

Did I say I wanted to fix you? I only meant that I want to fuck you, dear.

You sigh.

I don’t know if that’s a good idea.

You shiver as phantom fingertips begin to trail, feather-light, up your inner thigh. Your mouth drops open and you inhale sharply. After only one night together, he knows exactly how to touch you.

Astarion is still in the middle of a conversation with the group while he teases you. How is he able to do this?

I only have good ideas. Just say the word and we can share another private moment.

His fingertips aren’t there, not really, and yet you feel them slide up and down your thigh. Every time his fingers move, they go farther and farther up — inching closer to where you really want them to be.

Maybe, Astarion. But when?

You shift in your seat, squirming as the invisible fingers slide to your other thigh — continuing to tease you with slow and gentle movements. You struggle to control your breathing, trying to focus now only on keeping your breath steady and slow so as to not raise any suspicions.

Now is as good a time as any.

Then he adds another hand. This time delicate fingers move down your neck, caress your shoulder, beneath your clothes and slowly brush over the swell of your breast. The fingers trace your curves, over and under.

You’re sitting rather stiffly now. The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention and goosebumps are scattered along your arms. If anyone were to look at you, they would surely know something is going on.

Read entire fic on AO3.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #astarion smut #bg3 smut #af.op #af.op.fic

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simp-ly-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Love and Zombies (pt.2)

─────── · · A Smosh FanFic

Pairing: Spencer "Brody" Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Your's and Spencers journey continues, what new characters will you meet, what secrets will be uncovered, and in the end, was it all just an act? Or was something really there?

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, enemies to lovers, protectiveness, jealousy, angst, tension, fluff, light swearing, mutual pining, confessions, friends to lovers, cheesy, social media au (near the end).

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,431 | PART ONE

─ · · A/N: Happy Thanksgiving Long Weekend to all my fellow Canadians out there!! Please stay safe and have a relaxing time 🫶 (y/c/n) = your characters name.

─────── · ·

Rushing towards the kitchen you waved hello to Ian and Anthony quickly before standing in line for a cup of coffee, staring at your phone as you checked your messages a tap on your shoulder had you looking up to see Spencer, with multiple coffee's in hand.

"Pour Moi?" you joked in a poor French accent, raising a brow. "Qui, c'est pour toi," Spencer replied in equally broken French, handing you the coffee before moving to an open table with your stocked plates. "How are you finding things in front of camera?" Spencer asked after swallowing down a bite as you held up your hand to swallow and replied, "Its... different." Struggling to find the right expression.

"Like I mean, it's fun but i'm nervous people won't like me in the video whenever this'll come out. My character kinda is... well a bit naïve in some ways and what if they-"

Spencer reached over the table, grabbing your hand as your sentence gradually slowed to a halt. "I think people are going to love your character and not to brag or anything but our dynamic? perfect concept and execution and something they have not really seen a lot of before. And hell, if they hate it then they hate it but you are having fun right?"

"Yes, a load of fun actually," you smile, nodding your head along to his words, your heart having yet to slow as he gives your hand once last squeeze, "good, that's all that matters," before letting go.

─────── · ·

Back in front of the cameras and bright lights, you turned surprised to see Shayne sitting back across from you as you took to your seats. "And here I was thinking you were dead as dust?" you commented with a sarcastic tone, squinting your eyes as you examined Shaynes outfit yet finding no clues.

"Save it for when the cameras start rolling, I have something good planned," he replies before going to find Courtney so that the shoot can start. "Cast to positions," Alex calls from behind a monitor, observing the various camera angels for any faults before counting you all in for an introduction that Spencer takes.

"Hello and welcome back to Smosh Dread or Smosh Verses Zombies, I don't know what title we are calling this just yet. And here I am joined by both some familiar faces..." his arm drapes across the back of your chair with a smug expression and you can't help but stare at the reflection in his glasses and the freckles underneath his eye- "and a new one as well it seems..."

"Whassap???" Shayne strains his voice, it cracking yet sounding like he is higher than any plane in the sky. "My names Ronnie and I-ah, I don't actually remember why the fuck i'm here but this is chill, i guess-"

"We almost got mauled by zombies and took you off the side of the street just in time and all you have to say about this all is that its chill?" Courtney asks, tone raising to an accusatory one as she places her hands on her hips, eyebrows furrowed. "Uhhh, well... yeahhh, I guess?"

"You guess?"

"Yeah... I gue-"

"Alrightly!" you clap your hands bringing everyones eyes to you, "I say we keep heading towards the bay, thats were they are housing the cure and everyone else thats safe... right?" You look into everyones eyes at the table before holding Spencer- Brody's gaze.

"Sounds right to me babe, now lets get our asses back into the truck and make a move," Spencer rallies, sending you a wink that has your cheeks warming, your hands rushing to cover them in time as his hand falls to your shoulder, rubbing small circles of encouragement for you to show your face once again. "Wait... what direction are we heading in again, babe?"

And all romance was lost once more, shooting your head up to glare at your... boyfriend? Are we canonically dating now, or? You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, already forgetting the context of the situation you are in as Brody groans beside you. "I'm just double checking, sheesh. No need to get all moody on me-"

"You like me when I'm moody, it's why we got together in the first place," you retort with a bite, you both seemingly have forgotten the other two players and Dungeon Master at the table as they all look back and fourth between one another, allowing the scene to play out in front of them live. "You're right," Brody said back, tone noticeably a lot softer and so was your gaze.

"This is like the first time you have agreed with me openly!" you announce, eyes pressing into a toothy grin watching his eyes roll and cheeks paint themselves pink as well. What I wouldn't give to kiss you on the cheek right now, is all you can think to yourself, mindlessly nodding along to what George Primavera, the Dungeon Master had been saying as you sneak looks at Spencer- Brody.

And seemingly knowing what you were thinking in that exact moment, your eyes meet before Spencers are dropping to your lips with a shake of his head that has you pinching yourself.

─────── · ·

The game continues and so does your's and Spencers small touches that have you questioning when the acting stopped, or at least on your behalf as you allow your cheeks to consistently warm and your head to drop to his shoulder as you observed Courtney pull a brick from the tower. Your hand gripping his fore arm anxiously, his fingertips from his other hand grazing the back of your hand gently.

There is no way he is this good, right? You question to yourself, breath hitching as Spencers hand moves to interlace with your own as the tower shakes you press something up into the sleeve of Brody's shirt. "Please, be careful!" you call out, eyes blinking rapidly as you will yourself to tears.

"Zombies are banging on the door, if you do not successfully pull in the next 10 seconds Savanah, I will be counting it as an automatic loss," George announces and you choke back a sob. "Savanah, please, I believe in you!"

"Shut up babe, let her focus. She dosen't need to hear you yelling her name but you can scream-" you place your hand overtop of Brodys mouth with a glare before he kisses the inside of your hand that has you shaking the "germs" away with mock disgust.

Once Savanah had successfully pulled to all of the tables cheers you turned to Spencer as Savanah and Ronnie held their own conversation, you both trying to find the next best past forwards as the roads were completely ruined up ahead.

"I thought you were not into all the physical lovey-dovey stuff, Brody?" you teased, interlacing your fingers will fighting off a school-girl like giggle that had your company gagging obnoxiously from across the table as you both moved to flip them the bird.

"Eh, erm-" Brody struggled for words, starting to pull away from your touch, starting to feel small before you yanked him closer than before, your noses brushing up against one another. Spencers mouth proceeds to open and close like a fish out of water as you cup his cheek, enjoying the corse texture of his stubble against your palm.

"I-uh, only like it with you I guess, and only you..." Brody mumbles the end of his sentence, seemingly unsure of himself as he does his best to look anywhere but your eyes, catching your lips consistently.

"Sorry, I didn't manage that last part, what did you say about me in particular?" you push that bit forward, loving the way his glasses start to tip forwards, the perfect blend of hazel, green, and blue mixing into your own.

"Can we drop this, please?" Brody asks, feeling himself begin to sweat more as he forces his eyes closed, feeling the stares from everyone in the room including your own. "Okay," you add sweetly and in an understanding tone, dropping the questioning and his face before taking back to the game.

"I've got it!" Savanah then quickly details the rest of plan and to the Dungeon Masters approval, you all are making your way to the docks.

─────── · ·

Once arriving at the docks a small boat rocks back and fourth, unsteady in the rigid waters as rain splatters against your cheeks, the slight acidity of the water burning your skin as you press the neckline of your jacket closer to your face. Spencer moves his baseball cap to your head as you smile in thanks before taking his hand and guiding yourself onto the abandoned boat.

"We sure this won't sink?" you question, knees suddenly feeling weak as Brody fixes his hair out of his face and the boat starts to rock more violently against the dock, water splashing up and inside.

"That's why we have you going on first-"

"Oh wow, thanks honey, really feeling the love right now," you say back, not bothering to tone down your irritation as Brody steps in sitting across from you and by one of the paddles, Samantha beside him taking the other and Ronnie joining you by your side.

"Look, she's-a-holdin'" Ronnie comments, tipping up a fictional drink to Spencer before calling out random commands. "Mush, mush, brush, brush, uh? push push- wait not. ROW motherfuckers ROW!" Ronnie begins to stand with newfound enthusiasm before you are reaching over the table and pressing his shoulders down and back into his seat.

─────── · ·

A few life or death experiences later as Brody solved them all with you a step protectively behind him and the new shotgun he discovered. The pursuit to the base was easier as ever... a bit too easy as you typed in the code you found within Benardos pockets and viola!

The doors steamed and hissed opened before slamming with a heavy roar behind your small group. The lights then appeared on with every step you took, the past off just a second later. There was a faint humming that you couldn't pin point as the seemingly endless hallway of grey concrete walls, floors, and ceilings made the perception of time nearly impossible if it not for Ronnie complaining about having the munchies every five minutes.

"I think this is where we need..." your sentence came to falling halt. The boulder of momentum you all had been forcing up this stories hill now coming crashing down and chasing back after you. Its engagement only in a moments matter of time and it was ever approach as a figure emerged from the dark expanse of the room, a singular toarch they carried a glock in the other as the metal came in between your eyes. The features of this person coming into light and... your stomache dropped, you heard the safety of someones gun flick off and the sound of a pin could drop in that moment.

"You're dead, was all you could formulate to say..." an overwhelming feeling of nauseau tore its way through your system with vengence. "Then I wouldn't be here right? Just like you wouldn't be, is that not right? As you can see I am perfectly alive, child of mine. Now what friends have you brought to me today-"

"No." you put down your foot even when still at the barrels end, the smirk they sent, pushing your forehead to have you staggering back and into the awaiting arms of Brody behind you before being pulled back by the lapels of your jacket with great force. "No?" they mock.

"No?" they say as a state rather than a question. "No?" they chuckle to your horror. And "No." you confirm.

"You do know regardless if they make it out of here or not, they all will hate you in some degree by the end of this, child. They do not understand the cure that is us as you are undeserving of anyones love but my own-"

"You disgust me, father/mother," you bite back, hands shaking as a thousand memories come back to you being strapped to various informal medical technologies. Your skin bruised by the needles of a thousand experiments, some faulting to the plague you all knew todays as the zombies and yet you managed to healthy take the dose, take in the ability to evolve.

The idea that got forced down not spewing up new red hot tears from the corners of your eyes. "And you are to disgust them, do you know, companions of my child that your friend... or I see lover that they are exhibit A, the core and centre to all this destruction? And isn't it glorious, through a singular serum- nobody shall every become someone like us if we do not choose to, impenetrable to any human disease, sickness, or... death. The world shall rot at our feet so that we can rebuild it a better new!"

You refuse to look back on what you assume to be eyes of disgust landing on you as you fall to your knees, sobbing at your parents feet. The gun stays at your head, caressing the hair from out of your face as you wince at the cold metal greeting your features. BANG BANG

The bullets echo across the man-made landscape and disappear. You hear a groan and a stumble before metal is pressed to your forehead again, "nice try, but you seemed to have already forgotten my speech and have so rudely interrupted. You see, to end this all, YES! the cruelest trick of them all, you must kill us both at the same time. How joyous is that! And now you all must decide, its either you take us both, or I take all of you... its up to you~" your parent cackles as Brody grunts out in displeasure, barrels ready to shoot once more at your parental figure before Savanah is pulling him back once more.

"there has to be another way-" Savanah begins to ramble and rattle off an endless stream of ideas that are met with no answers or explanations.

"there is no other way..." you announce, eyes still kept to your ground yet head tilting to your left side praying they catch on. "do it, please," you ask, watching as your parent grins with glee. "yes, do it!" they copy your tone with an additional theatrical performance. Brody contemplates, eyes taking in to observe your form for what could be the last time... but after all this time you both have spent together through countless arguments, play fights and near kisses. He knew they could not have all been for nothing...

serum... if only we decide... evolve... zombies... dread... and with a sharp intake of breath BANG BANG, it echos in a silent scream.

─────── · ·

And that scream follows you as you awaken, not a singular syllable falling from your lips before arms are being wrapped around your frame and that familiar scent of aftershave, cigerettes, and motor oil have your eyes welling up with tears of relief.

"I knew you would catch on," you manage to croak out as Spencer had yet to speak, he just holds you tightly, shaking slightly ebfore whispering in your ear, "never to that again, that was so not cool, babe." Right before Savanah and Ronnie both burst into the room. "Science fucking Rules!" Ronnie cheers as you all burst out in laughter. Savanah still looks around confused, "so like... what actually happened? I still don't get the whole picture of how we all are like alive?"

"Well, if that serum can prevent you from somehow dying... why couldn't it also bring you back to life?" Brody explains as if it were the sky being blue as you shake your head. "Well I actually pressed the serum into his sleeve before we all entered the truck again, I was planning on telling him and asking him to be my... boyfriend before all of literal hell broke lose," you end your sentence with a laugh leading into a cough as Spencer reaches down below the table, pressing a water bottle into your face as you offer him a smile in thanks.

You all sit there in the silence and protection of the bunker. Allowing yourselves to relax for the first time in what felt like forever go by. "So how're we going to solve this Zombie issue?" Savanah perks up once more to everyones shrugs.

"Well, that was the last of the serum I know of... how does space sound?" you ask in a half joking half not tone as Spencer pulls you that bit closer, his eyes holding a lightness to them you had never seen before George was outroing and the moment was broken.

"Thank you all for joining us on this epically wild adventure, and I hope you all will join us again from when Smosh Dread returns- this time to outer space! Like, Subscribe, Share this Video with your Friends and remember friends... to drink water!"

"And thats a wrap!" Alex yelled out from behind camera as everyone clapped and cheered. You shook hands with George and sent smiles to your fellow cast mates Shayne and Courtney before your gaze casted down realizing that Spencer had already left.

─────── · ·

When finally out of costumer, make-up, and packing up the last things at your desk for the day, you were startled to find Spencer still in the office. You both seemingly the last to leave. "Hey, do you have a moment?" Spencer asks you, waving you down as you pick up your pace and meet him by the door. "What's up?"

"I really meant that you were a good actor by the way..."

"I stopped acting a long time ago, actually," you reply, shuffling your feet and Spencer drags a hand through his hair, an awkward tension only growing as the seconds tick by into minutes and you both start speaking at once.

"You go first," Spencer says, taking a half step closer to you as you lean your face in intently, as if to tell a secret. "I really like you, Spencer more so than Brody, more so than anyone I've known."

"I like you too, more than any character you could play, more than... yeah" Spencer agrees with wide eyes, seemingly as in disbelief of this moment as you were taking your face into his hands as you wrap your arms over his shoulders, checking if one another were tangible. And with one last look, your lips fell to one another in a delicate dance, your breath hitching as your gripped the fabric of his hoodie, sighing into his moan before backing away and gasping for air.

"See you tomorrow?" you say yet it rather comes out like a question. "Would you... want to come over to my place?"

"Yes, actually."

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Games just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

The End Is Near | Smosh vs. Zombies Finale

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 50k | 👎 7.77M subscribers 1M views 2 months ago click to read more

2,705 Comments

username01 anyone else swear that (name) and Spencer were going to kiss at the end? They must be some hella good actors for all that chemistry to be faked...

username09 OMG THAT PLOT-TWIST??? I ATE THAT SHIT UP-

username77 So excited for the new Aliens series, I am going to not be okay when that finally comes out!

username80 Mom, look! (name) and Spencer are my new OTP! (or well, Brody and (y/c/n), I guess too.

username45 wheres the compilations when you need them?! 😭 I NEED THE EDITS PEOPLE 😭

username23 🎶 "And I think to myself..." 🎶 how have they hid (name) and Spencer from us this LONG. I NEED THEM AS FULL TIME CAST STAT

↳ username41 making the petition now, please sign the link! ↳ username11 sir, yes, sir! 🫡

username81 Shaynes new character had me wheezing uncontrollably, I needed my inhaler after this one /positive 😂

username07 Not jealous and Protective Spencer getting me all worked up at a Wendys 🥰

↳ username09 that is straight WILD.

username00 The soundtrack, the effects, the editing. 10/10 production from the Smosh team/crew. Need more long form content and series like this on the channel. We beg! 🙏

username23 (name) and Spencer sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G

username50 Savanah is just an underrated character imo.

username10 (name) in TNTL and Bepordy now... please? 🥹

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: thank you all for the support once again, all these comments make me so giddy! 🥰

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1

106 notes · View notes

redrose10 · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 10 is here! I thought I was going to be able to post this yesterday but here we are. Comments and messages are appreciated. Even if I don’t always respond I do read them all.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 1,922

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad

You and Yoongi both jumped up at Jimins revelation.

“What? How did they know we were here?”, you asked.

“I don’t know. Just don’t panic Y/N. I’ll handle it.”

“What’s going on?”, Jimin asked.

“A very long story but basically Suri’s brother Hwan assaulted me at the charity event and Yoongi punched him so I’m thinking this probably has something to do with that.”, you replied.

Jimin’s mouth dropped open, but before he could speak the bell rang through the apartment signaling someone was at the door and your stomach did a flip. Quickly you put your hand in Yoongi’s while Jimin answered the door. He came walking back with both Suri and Hwan and also the two police officers.

The older officer stepped forward handcuffs already out, “Mr.Min you’re going to have to come with us?”

“May I ask what this is about?”, he questioned.

“Mr. Min you are under arrest for the assault on Hwan Cho.”

The officer turned Yoongi around placing the cuffs on his wrists. You sprang forward, “No you don’t understand. Yoongi was saving me. Hwan was the one that assaulted me.”

The other officer stepped in, “Miss you can meet us down at the station. We’ll get a statement from you and we’ll go from there but since they got to us first Mr. Min needs to come with us right now.”

You continued to protest with tears forming in your eyes until Yoongi turned to look at you, “It’s going to be okay Y/N. Just call Jin and tell him to meet us at the police station.” You nodded watching as the two officers walked him out of the apartment with Hwan following close behind reveling in seeing his enemy in hand cuffs.

Jimin ran off with his phone to make some calls that he knew would be needed leaving you standing in the living room with Suri. She walked over until she was standing right in front of you. Her perfume smelled like a lighter more feminine version of Yoongi’s. It was heavier on the vanilla but it still made your throat burn.

She smirked while looking you up and down. “So I finally get to meet the famous Y/N in person. I don’t really know what Yoongi sees in you.”

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m not going to fall for your mean girl tactics.”, you scoffed.

“I like that attitude. Maybe that’s what he sees. He has always had a thing for being dominated.”, she quipped.

She adjusted the buttons on her designer jacket before continuing, “Look I know a poor little orphan girl like yourself is used to being on the loosing side of life, but that’s not how I live. I ALWAYS get what I want. I want Yoongi and I don’t care what or who I have to ruin to achieve that. He will not just throw me away like yesterday’s trash. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Do you really think he’ll want to be with you if you release that tape and ruin his life? Or after having him arrested like this? If anything he’s just going to hate you even more.”

“Oh please. Yoongi will pay off the right people and he’ll be walking free before the morning. I only did this as a warning so he can see that I’m not going to easily back down this time.”She walked over to the front entrance grabbing a hold of the door handle before turning around to look at you.

“Also, who said that mix tape is the only thing I have that could ruin him? If he’s even half as smart as I think he is he’ll know better than to cut me out of his life.”

She turned and walked through the door letting it slam behind her. You stood staring at the spot she now left empty.

Jimin came running over to you handing you a jacket, “Come on Y/N, I already called Jin and he’s going to meet us at the station. We should get going.”

Unable to really form words you nodded and walked along with him to the parking garage.

Neither you nor Jimin spoke on the ride there. When you arrived Jin was already waiting by the entrance.

“They’re working on booking him in right now. Once that’s complete they said they’ll let me have some time with him.”

You reached out for his hands desperately trying to get your point across, “Jin he was only protecting me. That other guy was the aggressor, Hwan assaulted me. Yoongi didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jin nodded, “We’ll get this figured out Y/N. I’m gonna talk to Yoongi and then we’ll get a statement from you as well.”

You could feel tears starting to form again and you were so tired of crying.

“Hopefully Yoongi can just offer some money or something and that’ll get them to drop all the charges. That usually works anyways.”, Jimin said trying to comfort you. “Yeah I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”, Jin said opening the door for you and Jimin to walk into the station.

“Sit here. I’m going to go get an update.”, Jin said before walking into the back office. You and Jimin took a seat on one of the benches to wait.

After about twenty minutes Jin came walking over and smiled, “Okay Y/N, you can come back and see him for a little if you’d like.” You nodded and quickly jumped up following after Jin. He stopped and turned to you, “Yoongi is in the seventh room on the left. Head that way. I’m gonna stop in here and make a couple phone calls and I’ll be in shortly to talk to both of you.”

You nodded and began walking down the hall. While you were walking you kept your head looking to the left counting the doors to get to the seventh room so you didn’t notice the person coming out of one of the rooms on your right until you accidentally ran into them.

Stumbling backwards you started profusely apologizing, “Oh I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was go- Namjoon? What are you doing here?”

You heard some whispering followed by loud giggles. When you peaked around his broad shoulders you were surprised to see Suri and Hwan sitting at a table sipping some coffee in the same room that Namjoon had just walked out of.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I have to go.”, is all he said before walking off towards the exit barely even looking at you. Suri smirked when she noticed you standing there speechless and stunned.

When you were finally able to make your feet move you walked down to the room Yoongi was in. He looked tired and beat down and you felt bad for him. You walked over and wrapped your arms around him and he returned the gesture even though he was slightly taken back by your willingness to hug him like that.

“How are you doing?”, he whispered.

“Umm so I just ran into Namjoon in the hallway. He came out of the same room that Suri and Hwan are sitting in.”

Yoongi’s face instantly turned red, “I knew I never liked that fucking guy.” You tried to sooth him, “I don’t know what he’s up to but I’ll try to find out.”

Jin walked in and you quickly noticed his facial expression wasn’t as chipper as he normally is. After everyone took a seat he cleared his throat, “Alright so I’m sure we were all prepared for this but after some discussions the police officers are willing to “misplace the evidence” causing the charges to have to be dropped on behalf of the police department pending a cash payment of course.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Of course they are. Just ask them their price and let’s get it over with. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Jin looked apprehensive and began nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah I’ve already got it and it’s currently being taken care of by your accountant.”

“Okay so then why are we still here and why do you look so nervous then?”, Yoongi asked eyeing Jin.

Suddenly Jin pulled out his wallet, “I think it’s just because I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day and I can’t concentrate. Here is my card, Y/N will you be a dear and go grab us something to eat please? There’s a great bbq place about ten minutes away. Have Jimin drive you.”

You looked at him confused at his sudden request. “What the hell? Jin no. You’re not sending her out in the middle of the night to get you food.”, Yoongi said furiously.

Jin gave Yoongi pleading eyes begging him to play along for everyone’s sake. Jin turned to you and smiled, “Here Y/N take the card. Get whatever you want for yourself and Jimin too. I’ve heard the strawberry milk shakes are to die for.”

You looked over at Yoongi and he nodded gesturing towards Jin’s outstretched hand.

Hesitantly you took the card and walked out of the room to go find Jimin and get the requested food.

“What is going on Jin?”, Yoongi asked getting more and more irritated.

“It seems that Suri expected for all charges to get dropped so she came prepared with something even more detrimental. She just dropped a pretty big bombshell on me and I thought it was best for Y/N to not find out about this right now, at least not from me.”

Jin took in a deep breath his fingers slightly trembling as he flipped through some paperwork, “Suri has something about you that she’s threatening to release to the media. It could really ruin your business but it will definitely ruin whatever you have going with Y/N. She said she will make it public unless you agree to her terms which I don’t think you’re going to like.”

“Okay and what exactly are her terms then?”

“She wants Y/N to not file any charges against Hwan for assaulting her. I advised that I think that it is possible but I would ultimately leave that up to Y/N.”

Yoongi nodded in agreement, “Of course as it should be up to Y/N.”

“Suri is also requiring that you either allow her to move into your penthouse with you or that you purchase another penthouse and you live with her there. She also expects you to continue a relationship with her as you have been until recently.”

Yoongi scoffed, “She has officially lost her fucking mind. I am not doing that under any circumstance. At this point I’d rather just let her release the tape and be done with it.”

Jin sucked in a quick breath, “Yoongi this much much bigger than any lyrics in a mixtape.”

Jin slid the photo he had been holding onto over to the other side of the table, “She gave me this and said you’d probably want to see it.” Looking at the photo in front of him Yoongi felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his breathing became rapid and no matter how hard he tried he felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. The room began to spin as he looked around through blurry vision. He began shaking his head side to side mumbling, “No no no no…”

“Yoongi we need to get this sorted out immediately, especially if you want any chance of things to work out with Y/N.”, Jin said pointing to the sonogram lying on the table in front of them.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #cinnamon&vanilla #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi x y/n #arranged marriage au #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts yoongi #yoongi au #yoongi #suga

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lonewolflupe · 2 months ago

Text

On Vanilla And Caramel (One-Shot)

This is a request for my friend @peggy7447! I recently fell down the Foxhole myself, so this was an absolute pleasure to write <3 Give this poor man some love, he deserves it!

Summary: when Commander Fox runs into some technical difficulties, you're there to take care of it Rating: Teen and up Tags: words of affirmation, swearing (usage of slang; kark = shit), fluff (kissing), friends to lovers, SFW Words: 2.143 Pairing: Commander Fox x gen!reader Read this one-shot here on AO3

Every time he pressed the button, the sound from the error message seemed to get louder, filling the office with an annoying static noise. It didn't stop him from continuing though. But after several tries, the datapad froze, and the sound from the stacked messages echoed through the room like the whirring of a fried battle droid.

“Kriff,” Fox sighed, his ears buzzing from the penetrating sound. He got up and walked to the door, opened it, and peered around the corner. “Thorn!” he shouted through the guard post without any restraint, resulting in some troopers cowering on the spot.

There was no reply. Fox furrowed his brows in frustration, his mouth pressed in a thin line as the sound from the datapad behind him was still ringing in his ears. He stepped forward, ready to question the present troopers about Thorn's whereabouts, when you emerged from the small canteen adjacent to the guard post.

“Need a hand?” you asked with a casual smile, in a reply to his flustered look; this wasn't the first time you found him in such a state, and if there was anything you could do to ease his mind and lessen his misery, you would.

“What- what are you doing here?” he asked somewhat dazed, but you noticed his demeanour relaxing in an instant. You chuffed in amusement whilst gesturing towards the canteen behind you. “Well, just dropping off some supplies, like usual,” you smiled before walking over to him.

You looked around warily, making sure no one noticed, before taking a small package from your shoulder bag. “I got your favourite caf,” you smirked at him whilst jiggling it in front of his face. He stood still for a moment, his gaze focused on the brown paper bag between your fingers. He inhaled sharply when the earthy scent from its contents reached him.

“You.. You shouldn't have,” he muttered at last, gently taking your wrist to lower the bag, making sure none of the guards had seen it; he wasn't too keen on sharing his favourite caf. He needed the strong blend to keep productive, to stay awake. To cope with the daily grind.

You shot him a genuine smile; you knew how much he appreciated it, even if he didn't share his gratitude explicitly. “Maybe not, but I could, so I did,” you answered as you pressed the bag into his hands and carefully wrapped his fingers around it. Your own fingers lingered on top of his for a bit longer, before you withdrew your hands.

Fox shuffled on his feet for a moment before clearing his throat. “Gonna.. Gonna put this someplace safe, before Grizzer sniffs it out,” he mumbled before turning around and entered his office. His mind probably wasn't on the hospitality of inviting you inside - it never was -, so you took the liberty and strolled behind him anyway.

It was when you made it to the threshold you noticed the agonising sound of the freezing error messages. “Maker, what did you do to that poor datapad?” you shot at him whilst walking over to examine it. Fox grunted and nonchalantly waved his hand at the device. “We do not go well together,” he huffed, granting the datapad a disapproving look.

He seated himself behind his desk, his elbows on top of it. He cupped his head inside his hands and let out a defeated sigh as he let his greying curls slide through his fingers. You picked up the datapad and even though you hated seeing him like this, you couldn't help but shoot him an amused look.

“This.. this is why you needed Thorn?” you asked him, trying to minimise the smile that played on your lips. “Yeah,” he grunted from behind his gloved hands, without looking up to meet your gaze. “So you're telling me the majestic Marshal Commander Fox of the Grand Army of the Republic, head of the esteemed Coruscant Guard, chaperone of senators and confidant of the Chancellor, needs help restarting his datapad?”

You meant the words light-heartedly, a playful way to praise him for the things he had accomplished, but his response felt cold and distant. “I was trained to destroy droids, not to sit behind some desk and do whatever it is I'm doing here.” You swallowed as you glanced at him from over the edge of the datapad in your hands, the silence between you disturbed by the device's noise.

“I can fix this, just give me a sec,” you said softly, before walking over to his side of the desk and seating yourself on its edge. You were able to restart the datapad in an instant by pushing two buttons simultaneously. As soon as the static noise ended, you heard Fox sigh in relief. He sounded beaten and broken, and suddenly, he looked even more tired than before.

You tapped the edge of the datapad as it restarted, suddenly feeling reluctant to continue the conversation in the same joking manner, afraid you would say something that might dampen his spirits any further. You had only meant to help him, not worsen his mood.

“Did you, er- save any of your progress before you received the error messages?” you asked, nearly whispering; as if the low volume of your voice would avoid disturbing his already troubled mind. Fox grunted; it was as close to a ‘no’ you were getting. You sighed, but not loud enough to make him feel any worse about it; you knew how overworked and underappreciated he was. “I'll see what I can salvage,” you tried to ease him, shooting him a quick smile, but his face was still hidden behind his hands.

After another moment of silence, Fox suddenly reappeared from behind his hands, clearing his throat before he glanced at you. The confused look on his face wasn't lost on you. “Wait, wait- go back. Did you just call me ‘majestic’?” You looked up from the datapad, quickly recollecting the conversation. “That was.. a few sentences ago, but yeah, I think I did,” you slowly replied, before continuing: “Would you prefer if I used something else?”

Another hesitant silence, his eyes darting around as he searched for the right words. “Like.. what?” was his eventual reply, and you noticed how the tension on his face lifted. He looked back at you, straight at you, his gaze suddenly determined; and for a moment you lost yourself in his dark, brown eyes. You regained yourself quickly and chuffed amusedly, before placing the datapad at your side. It could wait.

Your palms on top of the desk and your fingers folded around its edge, you slightly bent over, leaning a bit closer towards him. You shot him a playful smirk before you continued. “Magnificent, marvellous, memorable, mindful, modest.. Uhm, perhaps even mysterious?”

For a moment, his gaze lowered, and you thought you noticed his cheeks colour a warmer shade. “Hmm. Not sure what to think of those,” he remarked, but it didn't sound very convincing to you. But you played along anyway; anything to brighten his day.

“I'm sure I can think of some more. What about.. Fabled, fabulous, factual, faithful.. The Formidable Fox,” you cooed as you leaned over a little bit further. You caught the corner of his mouth slightly twitching upward, and you thought you noticed a flicker in his eyes.

He slowly leaned back in his chair as he repeated the words ‘Formidable Fox’ in a mumble. You shook your head in a chuckle and grabbed the datapad again. Now that the mood was lifted, you were ready to continue your interrogation. “Did you keep pressing the button, despite the error messages popping up?” you shot teasingly from behind the device.

The awkward shrug he gave you told you enough. You couldn't help but laugh; a genuine yet amused laugh that let him raise an eyebrow in confusion. “My dear Fox, what did you expect would happen?” He pressed his lips in a thin line, but his eyes were soft, his brows relaxed. “It worked the last few times it occurred,” he replied casually.

He averted his gaze from you, letting it wander over his desk, which was stacked with flimsiwork. “I prefer filling in physical documents anyway,” he sighed, and you knew to him it was just a choice between bad and worse.

You lowered the datapad and granted him a comforting smile. “Doing it digitally will save you a lot of time. Time you could otherwise spend outside this office. Maybe go out for a change, meet some people.” He shot you a sceptical look, as if you were talking kark to him, before responding to your pitch. “I meet people here all the time.”

You shook your head again, bumping your fist playfully against his shoulder piece. “I meant people that aren't your brothers or military prisoners, y’know,” was your witty comeback, the corner of your mouth sliding into a smirk.

There was a moment of silence before he continued, in which he started fidgeting with the corner of some flimsiplast. “I met you here,” he said at last, his eyes on the administrative mess on his desk. Instantly, your smirk shifted into a smile and your eyes turned soft on him. “That is a fact,” you murmured, not sure if you spoke the words out loud.

“I, er- don't see the need in meeting anyone else,” he continued, and it made your heart melt. You would have never imagined this hardened, stubborn and work driven man was able to make you feel lightheaded. “Well, let's meet some more often then,” you were able to shoot back subtly, taking up the datapad again. You made it look like you were busy as you awaited his reply, full of anticipation.

Fox wet his lips before he replied: “Did you just call me ‘dear’?” He was surprisingly confident with his words this time. You, on the other hand, were completely taken by surprise; you were expecting some response, but nothing like this. “D-did I? I sure called you a lot of things just now, I can't quite seem to remember,” you started off flustered, but you were quick to regain yourself.

He chuffed before abruptly leaning forward, towards you, his gaze straight at yours again. And this time, he had no intention of breaking eye contact. “I think that was my favourite of ‘em all.” His voice was low, heavy almost, but vibrant with a crisp edge to it. Just the way he liked his caf. And it was suddenly smooth, so smooth..

“W-was it?” you managed, your eyes blinking as you were lost in his. They were dark and creamy and - everything about him seemed to remind you of caf, or was it the other way round? His lips started moving before his words even made sense to you. “Do you.. care to repeat that one?”

Unknowingly, you started leaning forward, slowly closing the gap between you two. In a whisper, just loud enough for the two of you to hear, you complied: “I do care, my dear Fox.” A shudder went down his spine and he exhaled sharply at your words. “Do you now?” he whispered, moving in even closer.

You could feel his warm breath on your skin by now. He smelled like caf too; an earthy, almost nutty scent that grounded you at the spot. You closed your eyes and parted your lips. Your breath became heavy as your heartbeat rose.

Suddenly, you felt his hand reach for the back of your head, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he pulled you close and pressed his lips against yours. You freed your hands from the desk, positioning one on the side of his neck as you let the other roam his luscious curls.

He hummed as your lips tenderly touched, as your noses softly brushed, and it made your heart beat faster. The thought that you were able to distract and ease his troubled mind, the idea that you had ignited a spark within him, the feeling that you were a light at the end of his tunnel.

And you couldn't help but let your mind wander; he even tasted like caf. Warm and mellow, with a touch of vanilla. This was definitely your new favourite flavour, and you never wanted to taste anything else again.

When the two of you pulled away slowly, you opened your eyes and noticed a change in his. Whereas they were normally a dark brown tint, you swore they had an amber glow to them now. It reminded you of caramel.

Slowly, your lips curled into a gentle smile. “I can give you all the care in the Galaxy,” you whispered. And that was all he needed that day; words of comfort, to know he mattered and the reassuring thought someone cared about him.

Fox taglist: @peggy7447

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic #tcw fox #commander fox #marshal commander fox #cc 1010 #fox x reader #fox x gen!reader #sfw #fanfiction #lonewolflupe #lonewolflupe writes

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acradelius · 8 months ago

Note

Roadhog smut where Reader has a kink for being praised?

"Such A Good Little Piggy~"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Roadhog ("Mako Rutledge") x Gender Neutral! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: MDNI, Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns Used For Reader, Soft! Dominant! Roadhog, Verbal Praise Kink, Verbal Praise - Roadhog Giving/Reader Receiving, Reader Gets Called Gorgeous- Still Gender Neutral, Nickname Usage, Spanking, Roadhog Being Slightly Commanding.

Word Count: 516 Words

Taglist: @masterofpuns

(It took longer than expected to get this out because I thought I was doing the tagging/mentioning system wrong, lol)

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

“..and here you said that you wouldn’t be able to take such a thick, enormous cock~'' There's a taunting, teasing tone within the words that Mako speaks, followed by a chuckle of mere amusement, as he watches his poor, little (Y/N) squirming underneath his own bulky size in an attempt to adjust to the seemingly never-ending length of Mako’s cock. A bright, flustered blush covering their cheeks while their eyes are slightly blown from the pleasure that’s coursing throughout their system. “..looking so gorgeous down there as you continue to try to handle all of me~ Such a good Little Piggy, aren’t you?~” His words, that gravelly tone of voice, especially whenever he would praise them, conjures up a loud, almost desperate moan from (Y/N)’s lips. Slowly, but surely, inch after inch (Y/N) manages to take from Mako, a pleasurable pressure becoming a bit more intense the more that they take, until there’s a sigh of relief that escapes the heavyset man above them. “Managed to take it all, huh?~ All the way to the base, Little Piggy~ It drives me absolutely wild whenever you’re able to take me all like this~”

It was almost an addiction, the emotions that were at an all time high within (Y/N), combined with the consistent pleasure that came along with arching their back just right and beginning to move their hips in a - circular motion. While the movement from Mako himself was appreciated, causing a brief high pitched cry to escape out into the open from the occasional quick, rough thrust, Mako really wouldn’t have to do anything at this point. (Y/N) was doing everything on their own. It definitely was a sight, a sight that he would make sure to engrain within his memories. “That’s my good Piggy~ Rock your hips just like that~” Another firm slap to their ass, another soft moan that leaves their lips. “Good, good~ Now, how about you go faster?~ I know that you can take it~"

“I’m so proud of you for taking my cock so well, (Y/N)~ You’ve done so well to please me so far~ How about you give yourself a well deserved break and let Daddy Pig take the reins, hm?~ I’ll take such good care of you as you have been taking such good care of me~” Mako doesn’t bother to even give (Y/N) the chance to respond before he places his enormous hands upon (Y/N)’s hips, having a tight grip before he begins setting a quick, yet gentle pace as he thrusts. It doesn’t matter though. Between the physical pleasure that he was bestowing upon (Y/N), and the constant praise that he was giving, (Y/N) was feeling as if they were on Cloud Nine, and wouldn’t want it any other way. Slightly blown pupils from the lust and arousal that coursed throughout their system, and the large grin that was gracing their lips, it was obvious to tell that they were enjoying it. “Such a good, little Piggy, I am~ Such a good, little Piggy~”

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #mako rutledge #roadhog overwatch #overwatch roadhog #roadhog x reader #roadhog smut #x reader #x reader smut #lemon rating #requests?! thank you<3

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fakesimp · 2 years ago

Text

Comforting him, With Shxtou

Warning !

Hurt/Comfort ; Mentions of Crying ; Mentions of Kissing ; Established Relationship ;

A/n : I've watched this clip of Shxtou, of him crying because of a dono he got (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

Poor boy, I want to hug him so bad when I heard his cries. ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

➶◜◝➴

Shxtou was streaming, and you were watching him in another room. Everything was fine until he got a $1000 donation from one of his viewers, he thanked them and proceeds to read them. It's only been a few seconds in, you can hear his soft sobs. And slowly it gets louder, he's actually crying. You immediately stood up from the couch and stood quietly in front of the door of Shxtou's room, you contemplated if you should just wait for a bit or just barge in.

And you decided to reach out to him from his dm, 'open the door Sho' you sent the message. And it was instantly seen by your Beloved Demon hunter, he muted himself and excused himself for a bit to his viewers. The chat understood and told him to take his time, after he muted himself. He immediately walk up to the door and opens it, revealing you standing there looking at him with worried look.

"Hugs?" You asked the moment you see him as you open your arms, the way his eyes start to glisten again with tears made your eyes widen up. "Sho-" before you could finish your sentence, he immediately engulfed you into his arms. Crying on your shoulder, you gently pat his back, and slowly went up to his head. You kissed his ear, and whispered "They love you Sho, as much as I do." You whispered and slowly push him away from you a bit. You gently put your hands on his cheeks, slowly rubbing your thumbs across his cheeks. He leaned into your hands, closing his eyes. Enjoying the comfort you gave him.

"I'll be waiting for you in our bedroom okay? Go finish what you have to do first, we can cuddle later, okay?" You said, Shxtou nod his head and before you could walk away from him, you felt a tug from the boy. You look up at him, "Hm?" You hummed at him. "...hnn, C-can I.. have a kiss?" You look at him with awe, you let out a chuckle. Making him glare at you flushed, despise his tears, he's still embarrassed.

"You know what, neve-" You didn't let him finish and leaned closer to him, kissing him. Shutting the Demon Hunter up, after you pull away from the kiss. You kissed him again on the cheek, whispering "There, another kiss from me. Now go, I'll be waiting in our bedroom okay?" You said and walked away. Leaving the boy, stood there flabbergasted, flushed red.

"Dang it.."

. . .

He continued on with his stream a little bit longer before deciding to end it, after ending it he immediately went to your shared room. And saw you on the bed, playing with your phone as you wait for his arrival. He walk up to you and slowly crawl to your lap, you looked down from your phone to your Lover that's burying his face on your stomach.

"Welcome back.." you said as you put your phone away, you gently brush your fingers into his hair locks. Earning a hum from the Hunter, he snuggled closer to you as you did so. "Come here lay down beside me." You said, and it took Shxtou a minute for moving himself from your lap to your side.

When he is by your side tho, he buried his face on your chest. Making you let out a small chuckle, you pat his head and kissed the top of his head. "Love you Sho." You said as you continue gently patting his head, whispering sweet nothings. Giving him the comfort he needs. After that you mindlessly playing with his hair locks, Making him shiver at the sensation, "Hmm.. it tickles." He said as he wrapped his arms around your waist a bit tighter. He then whispered,

"Mm.. Love you.."

"Love you too Sho.."

©fakesimp

A/n : Comforting my cute boy, Shxtou..

Tags clarification !

I use NijiEn, Nijisanji, Luxiem tags for people who didn't follow Sho's tags (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

#shxtou x reader #shxtou #indie vtuber #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji x reader

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questforgalas · 1 year ago

Text

Code Red Training

···

GIF by mlmanakin

Summary: Kix has to give a training on the menstrual cycle to the 501st. It goes exactly how you think it would

Characters: 501st legion (Jesse, Fives, Rex, Kix, Echo, Dogma, Appo, and made up clone names), Ahsoka Tano

WC: 2.4K

Notes: This is based off another silly HC I posted the other day I couldn't get out of my head. I think the idea of the engineered clones raised surrounded by men learning about the menstrual cycle is a hilarious concept. Very silly stuff. The boys are in awe of their commander after

Tags: descriptions of the menstrual cycle and what occurs. Swearing

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

Kix was running out of tasks to keep his hands busy. The informational flimsies were on the fourth variation of stacking, and he’d rearranged the educational sculptures in every possible space on the desk. He wasn’t nervous. He just could make a list of 1000 other duties he’d rather be doing than, well, this.

Kix had the 41st Elite Corps to thank for this one. The poor padawan commander of the 41st apparently wasn’t prepared for her cycle, and while she was trying to retreat to her quarters to remedy the situation, she was caught with a noticeable blood stain that, understandably, caused her troopers to go into a panic. Chaos ensued as an entire corps sprang into action to save their commander who, to their knowledge, was bleeding to death for no reason.

There’s no official report on the matter, but the message from Insi, the medic of the 41st, simply said “The troopers involved won’t be looking Commander Offee in the eye anytime soon”.

So now, all battalions led by a female general or commander had to sit through educational training on the menstrual cycle.

A 3-D model of the uterus taunted him from across the desk.

“Gotta say, don’t exactly envy you with this one, Kix,” Captain Rex’s voice interrupted Kix’s internal battle to cancel the next session and run, but instead, he turned to face his Captain, standing at attention and offering a short salute.

“You envy everything else I get to deal with, sir?” The medic offered a sly smirk as Rex put him at ease.

“You got me there,” Rex chuckled. “Although, last I remember, it wasn’t too long ago you’d be right next to Fives and Jesse when I’d be threatening another ‘fresher duty to ward off any antics.”

Kix brought a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Me, sir? Antics? I’d never.”

“Just because you knew how to hide the evidence better doesn’t mean you were more innocent.” A playful shove on his shoulder broke his performance.

“It’s called a medic’s attention to detail, sir.”

Rex offered a hum in response, the fond smile on his lips softening the threat of his eye roll, and he continued to make his way across the room to the chair set up in the back corner. As the commanding officer, Rex had to give his approval on the training which meant Kix already took him through the session – The captain remained professional the entire session, but the increasing crimson of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed – so his presence here now only meant one thing.

Rex knew who was on the roster, and he was here for a show.

“You think you’re being sly Captain, but I see right through you,” Kix accused.

“I’m not sure what you mean. It’s my duty as captain to perform surprise training inspections. It’s for the good of my men.” Rex’s face remained impassive, but the medic didn’t miss the smirk tugging at his lips or the glint in his eyes.

Before he could answer, he heard voices coming down the hall. Kix went through the same mental routine he did when he boarded a LAATi, and with one last deep breath, he readied himself for battle.

_____________________________________________________________

“Wait, wait, wait! A tube?! They have an actual tube in them?”

“Not just a tube, Hardcase. Two tubes!”

“Can females create metal?!”

“How does a baby even fit in there? Like, the same size as us in the tube? Come out of THAT!”

“FEMALES LAY EGGS?!”

The first ten minutes of the session went about as well as Kix could hope for. Characteristic of this group, they were rowdy when they filed in, most coming in from the mess hall, and many in the middle of glorified battle stories that their audience wasn’t buying. As they took their seats, they settled in, and most conversation had quieted down, but when Kix stood upfront waiting for a second too long, pointed looks by Echo and Dogma had the room quieting down quickly.

Much to Kix’s surprise, the group remained attentive and curious during the first parts of his notes as he walked them through the anatomy. Not to his surprise, all hell broke lose when he started to explain conception and gestation. When the questions erupted, Kix stole a glance to the back of the room. Rex was barely holding his composure, and it looked like Jesse’s outburst broke the professional dam as Rex quickly hid his face behind his hand, shoulders shaking.

“Alright, alright, alright. Calm down! One question at a time,” Kix barked. “First, the fallopian tubes are not metal tubes, Hardcase. It’s just what they’re called because they connect two sections. Second, yes, babies as big as we are when we come out of the tube are born through the vagina. If necessary, they can be cut out, bu-“

“THEY CUT THEM OU-“ Smack “Ow!”

“Cut it, Appo,” Echo scolded.

“As I was saying, they can be cut out, but that’s in emergency situations. And lastly, they don’t lay eggs. Not females with this anatomy. They carry eggs, and once a female hits puberty, their ovaries release one egg once a month for it to be fertilized,” Kix finished.

“Oh I can tell you allll about how they’re ferti-“ Smack. “Ow!”

“Fives, you’ve never even talked to a girl,” Echo was on a roll Kix very much appreciated.

Taking a pause before moving onto the next section, Kix swept his gaze across the room. Dogma furiously scribbled notes while Hardcase and Oddball looked like they were trying to solve the equation of an ion engine. Echo lazed with his arms across his chest, attention trained on the medic, but gave Appo another swat when he noticed his head nodding to the side. Fives still rubbed the back of his head where Echo hit him, looking like a hurt loth pup not getting to make his crude joke.

Crowded in the middle, a hand raised. Kix recognized the trooper as one of the newest 501st.

“Yes, Doma?”

“Thank you, sir. I’m just curious. What, what happens to the egg if it isn’t fertilized? Does it just…fall out?” The trooper looked around on the ground as if expecting to find a scattering of eggs around him. A soft laugh floated from the back corner of the room.

“Well, Doma, that leads us into the final part of this training. If the egg isn’t fertilized, then the female body goes through what is called the ‘menstrual cycle’ in common. It’s possibly called other things in other languages, but it all refers to the same process.”

Kix picked up the 3-D model and moved back to the front and center of the room, pointing to the uterine lining.

“When released, the egg settles in the lining of the uterus. If it’s not fertilized, the lining sheds and discards the old lining and the egg through the vagina. Then the lining builds up again over the next month preparing for the next egg,” Kix explained. Silence settled over the room and not a single trooper moved. Even Echo looked like Kix just explained a 10-page battle strategy to him with one minute to learn it. “Ok, where did I lose you all?”

Eyes glanced around, no one wanting to speak first. Finally, Dogma raised his hand.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘sheds and discards the old lining’?” he grimaced.

“Here goes nothing,” Kix thought.

“Well, exactly what it sounds like. The lining literally tears itself from the uterus, falls through the vagina, and exits.”

Eruption.

“YOU MEAN-“

“THEIR BODY IS LITERALLY TEA-“

“HOW OFTEN DOES-“

“SHEDS? LIKE, THEIR BODY JUST-“

Fives, Hardcase, Jesse, and a trooper Kix didn’t recognize jumped to their feet, yelling questions. Dogma turned pale. Doma was bracing his head in his hands. Echo’s eyes went wide, stare fixed on a spot in front of him, and troopers around the room reacted with a mix of horror and confusion. The quiet laugh in the corner of the room mingled with the ruckus. Acting fast, Kix brought his fingers to his lips and let out a whistle the patrol across camp could probably hear. Immediately, the questions ceased, but the looks of horror remained. His narrowed eyes got the message across, and all the troopers settled back into their seats. Once he was sure they were focused back on him, Kix went on.

“This is where we’ll open up the question portion of the training.”

Every hand shot up.

“Fives, if this is a joke,” Kix warned.

“No, it’s serious I promise!” Fives pleaded. Kix nodded for him to go on. “When they’re going through this men-menstrol? Mens-“

“Menstrual.”

“Thanks, vod. When they’re going through this menstrual cycle, is it painful?”

“Yes. Pain can vary female to female, but common symptoms are severe cramps. Many females experience cramps painful enough to cripple them anywhere from a couple hours to days. Other common symptoms are muscle cramps in their lower backs and legs, interrupted sleep cycle, severe mood swings, bloating, digestive changes, and headaches or migraines.” Kix explained. A room of faces grimaced back at him.

“How long does it last for,” Echo asked.

“Again, it varies female to female, but on average 3 to 7 days.”

“7 days?! They’re just…bleeding! For 7 days!” A trooper exclaimed in the back.

“Maker, I didn’t think of that,” Jesse mused. “They’re just walking around with their bodies tearing itself on the inside, and they’re just…ok?”

“Well…” Kix started. “I wouldn’t say they’re ‘ok’, but they’re expected to go through life with it. So yes, many females you encounter could be in their cycle.”

“And this happens, every month?” Jesse asked, amazement in his voice.

“Yes, once the female becomes of age, and as long as everything is regular, it happens once a month.”

“Whoa,” Awe passed over the troopers.

“Wait,” Appo shot up in his seat. “Commander Tano!”

Kix’s eyes instinctively found Rex’s. The captain’s smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and it took all of Kix’s respect for the decorated captain to not flip him off.

“What about the commander?” Kix returned to the group.

“Well, she’s a female!” Appo blurted.

“Appo, are you asking if Commander Tano experiences a menstrual cycle?” Kix asked. The captain answered with a vigorous nod of his head, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Well, I can’t disclose patient information, but Commander Tano is of the age that it’s common for females to begin theirs.”

“That..is so…fucking…cool!” Oddball exclaimed.

“You mean our Commander is out there kicking clanker butt while her body is literally tearing itself on the inside? I mean, can she be any greater?” Echo proclaimed, a proud twinkle in his eye.

“Ohhhh is that why she randomly hordes all the chocolate cakes in the mess?” Fives mused.

“I don’t think I need to remind all of you that it is not procedure or polite to bombard the commander with questions about this,” a stern voice interrupted from the back. Amusement still danced in his eyes, but the expression on Rex’s face shut all conversation down immediately.

“Yes, sir,” echoed unanimously.

“Alright, well, if there aren’t any more questions, that concludes the training,” Kix dismissed. While his brothers filed out of the room, Kix allowed himself to relax his shoulders for the first time since Fives entered.

Rex appeared in front of him, hand clasping down on his shoulder, “Not bad trooper. I think you’ll only be getting questions from Hardcase for the next 20 rotations.”

____________________________________________________________

“Hey, Rex. Have you noticed the boys have been…odd lately?” Ahsoka asked while she and Rex made their way through the halls of the Resolute,

“Not sure I know what you mean, Commander,” Rex responded.

Walking through the narrow halls, a few troopers stepped to the side to salute the commander and captain as they passed. Ahsoka noticed two things. First, their eyes went wide when they first took her in. Second, their force signatures spiked instantly with something mixed with astonishment and pride. Once they passed, she could swear she heard one of them murmur, “An absolute legend.”

These types of occurrences had been happening regularly over the last few weeks, and Ahsoka grew more confused with each one.

“I don’t know. All of them have been looking at me like the shinies look at Anakin when they meet him for the first time. It’s, unnerving,” she explained.

Rex did his best to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest. Of course, he’d noticed his brothers completely obvious demeanor change towards their commander. Ever since Kix’s trainings finished, the whole 501st viewed their vod’ika in a whole new light – one that put her on par, if not higher, than their general.

“Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how they get, especially in between missions. Restless and bored. Start actin’ weird. Don’t pay attention to it,” Rex tried to deflect.

Making their way around the corner, Fives and Echo were spotted leaving the mess heading in their direction. When the ARCs recognized who was ahead of them, Fives bounded their way.

“Commander! Lucky running into you. Here, I grabbed an extra chocolate cake just for you. Figured you can stash it away, save it for later,” Fives suggested, giving a wink like he and Ahsoka were in on a secret only the two of them know.

“Uh, thanks, Fives. That was, kind?” Ahsoka shot a look to Rex that said “See?”, but he just shrugged her off as if Fives giving her chocolate cakes happened every day.

“Oh, and commander, I stopped by the med bay earlier. I saw they were low on high strength painkillers, so I requested that Kix put in a supply order right away so we’re well stocked. Wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, right?” Echo added.

Rex groaned internally. For ARCs, these two were the most obvious troopers he’d ever known.

“That’s, good to know, Echo. Thanks, I think?” Ahsoka tried her best to sound polite, but the whole interaction just confused her more.

“You’re welcome! Well, we’re off to the rec center for some sparring. Rex, join us later?” Echo asked.

“Another time, Echo. I have a briefing at 1500,” Rex answered, dismissing the troopers.

Later that day, Ahsoka stashed that cake in her quarters and made a note to stop by the med bay to grab some of the painkillers before next week. She didn’t know what was going on with the boys, but she wasn’t going to not take advantage.

#tay writes #star wars #the clones wars #501st legion #captain rex #arc trooper echo #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper fives #clone trooper dogma #captain appo #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #clone trooper hardcase #divider by samspenandsword #cw: menstruation

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