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lynnlovesthestars · 2 years ago

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One and only.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!reader

Genre & warnings: smut and fluff, post act 3, soft Astarion, fingering, slight overstimulation and orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a lil of anxiety? and thinking but lots of love too, blood, biting.. I don't think there's more?

Words: 4.4k (damn i didn't think it was that long oof.

Healing is a slow process, but with you it's a little easier.

Astarion paced back and forth in front of the tent, weighing the words that were floating in his mind, the feeling that pooled in his stomach and shoved off the fear hidden in the back of his mind.

You were different because you cared about him. You reminded him every night before you'd close your eyes and fell asleep in his arms, and you respected him like none ever did. You reassured him whenever he'd ask you if you were still okay to wait for him until he was ready to try again with sex, and he was oh so grateful for it.

It's been around three years since you were free of the tadpole, you'd grown so much together: patching up each other's wounds while learning how to love. You taught him to be intimate without bedding you. You taught him how caresses could be so much more than sex.

He looked around the camp, you called your old companions for another adventure, helping you find a cure for vampirism, and they all eagerly accepted.

Aylin and Isobel were the only ones missing, literally.

You found a nice spot in the underdark, glowing mushrooms of pretty colors decorated all around you, and the circular cave was just perfect enough for the bunch of you.

You were fumbling around the fire, trying to roast a boar leg you got at a small merchant you found on the road.

Gale was trying to interfere with that boar leg cooking process, but you didn't want to hear him, especially after you had to live off his particularly unsavory stew for months, this time you were taking the metaphorical chef hat and feeding everyone with your newfound skills. Three years away from adventure had to be filled one way or another.

The camp was always lively, that's one of the perks of being so many.

Wyll was playing with Boo, while Minsc and Jaheira were playfully fighting over something dumb. Karlach and Halsin were fast asleep next to the fire, snoring loudly between Gale's words.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart were discussing as always and, though everyone was too distracted to hear him, Astarion was still mumbling to himself while pacing.

The dinner was great, you could see it in the eyes of everyone as they bit into the tender meat and shared stories. Minsc was deep into another tale of Boo, Jaheira and him as your eyes wandered to Astarion, which still hasn't had his dinner.

You couldn't see him, until you noticed that the oil lamp in your tent was on, and his shadow was fixing something around the tent. For what you knew he was moving the pillows scattered around, in a way that you'd be more comfortable while he fed.

They all knew at this point that you'd let him feed off you on daily basis, it started back while you were on your way to Baldur's Gate back then, and you took the habit so much that at a certain point you didn't even feel dizzy after he'd been done.

You excused yourself as you made your way to the tent, it was one of those nights where you needed an extra long hug, and a few kisses on the forehead.

When you opened the flap of the tent, he was still fighting with a pillow, trying to fluff it up just how he liked it, but failing. He was glad that he learned how to hide his emotions, shoving the tension down and away.

You kneeled next to him, placing a hand on his before taking the pillow from his grasp.

He followed your movements closely with his eyes, as you put the pillow on the floor.

He didn't know what he expected to see, but to watch you punch the pillow relentlessly, was definitely not on the list. Though after you were done, the pillow was somehow perfect. Was that how his pillow was always extra fluffy?

You gave him a soft smile before you tossed it next to the others, which you noticed were arranged differently, making something closer to a nest, than your usual layout.

You both didn't speak, you were so close that you'd know just by looking at your bodies, or the way your face crunched, and yours clearly said "cuddle".

In a matter of seconds, he pulled you in his arms before scooting closer to the pillows to rest there.

He loved the way you'd make yourself comfortable on his lap, how you wiggled for a moment before finding that nook where your head rested perfectly on his chest, and the way you would hum when you were happy with the position you chose.

He could live off just of that pretty sound that would come out of your lips.

You were so absorbed by the closeness that you didn't notice the barely perceptible hesitation in his touch, as he slowly turned your face to him, making sure you could hold eye contact for a moment.

The eagerness and the pure undevoted love were fighting with the fear, the fear of reliving those nights he tried so hard to forget, but at the end of the day, he needed you. He needed you more than he feared his nightmares, he needed to feel you around him, he needed to let you feel his love, his devotion, all of him.

If there was one person that he wanted to love so deeply, it was you.

So many times he thought of trying to have sex again just to see if he still was disgusted, but only with time he was able to realize that he wasn't disgusted by sex, he was disgusted of being stripped of his chance to back away. And the more he got to know you, the more he grew closer to you, the more he longed for you, in every way. It was no longer the need for release or just the fucking without attachments, he wanted to make love with you. He wanted to hear you moan his name like a chant, he wanted to feel your hands reach were no one was ever allowed to: tracing his back, on the dip of his lower back, around his hips, at the center of his chest, where his heart, your heart, resided.

There was no one else he desired like this, the idea of other people, or having other lovers but you, made him retch. He didn't want love unless it came from you, he didn't want sex unless it was you making him feel lightheaded. Of course it took him a lot of time to understand this, and a lot of work around his feelings, and his body, and you never shied away from any of his attempts to push his boundaries.

You helped him reshape the ideas of the smallest things, down to skinship.

Even after hours of brooding on how to ask you, he found himself speechless at the sight of your soft eyes filled with love, and the peaceful smile you gifted him. He was mesmerized.

It took him a second to just recollect, as he took his time ingraining in his mind that look he loved so much.

"My love" He whispered as he cupped your cheek, making you lean into his touch. "I've been thinking a lot" His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so slightly, drawing a delicate humm from you. He had planned a lot to say but as you leaned close, the speech was already out the window. So he just lowered you on the bed, and crashed his lips to yours.

It took you a second to process the unexpected movement, but a second later you were lost within his kiss.

Initially it was rough, the way he gripped on you, like an instinct that he could barely control, full of yearning and need, but slowly, the more you relaxed in his arms, savoring the taste of his kiss, the more he would slow down, like a love poem traced with his whole body.

His hands would graze over your hips, your shoulders, your neck, every bit of exposed skin was being caressed by his slender fingers, holding and molding your body like it was putty.

He rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath, and allowed you as well. His eyes were closed as he was lost in your sweet scent.

It took him another long moment before being able to control his breath, regain his senses as his head was already spinning away.

"My love, allow me.." He breathed ooutsweetly as he latched his hand around yours, your fingers intertwining in his like an instinct. "Allow me to feel you." He placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "Allow me to make you mine" The words came out almost as a plea, like a starved man that was in front of a banquet and forced to resist the need. His lips traveled to your neck, resting where he'd usually drink from you.

"I'm already yours" You whimpered as you could feel his teeth graze, sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the pit of your stomach bubbling with tenderness, as his eyes were rounder than usual, and his gaze was soft. Though there was a yearning feeling in the bottom, drowned momentarily by the adoration.

So many nights you had to leave the tent to take care of your needs, as you didn't want to burden Astarion with it. You wanted him to be fully there as he helped you release all that pent up tension, not just a shell of him. You craved his love, not his body.

You had to resist the very urge to push your hips against him, even though he was asking you already. You wanted to make sure he was truly okay before making any movement.

He groaned as he tilted your neck, pressing his lips right under your chin, and descending between your clavicle. He wanted to worship every millimeter of you, no skin would have to go unkissed.

"I want to make love to you, my one" He left a bite on your shoulder, no teeth were deep enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to steal a delicious mewl from you.

His words made your heart roar.

You raised your head enough to catch a glimpse of his eyes, now sultry, half closed as his lips still rested on your skin, dropping sweet kisses right where he was.

"Mh, you sure?" You asked as your body basked in the attention he was providing.

"Like I've never been before. I dreamt for so long to have you wrapped around me" He moved again, until your chests were against each other, and your noses were meeting. "I want no one else but you. I want to know what having the love of your life so close, so vulnerable feels like" He placed a quick kiss on your nose. "I just want to get lost in you, to hold you like I've never held anyone" his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him, like he wanted to merge your bodies. "I want to be one with you" He whispered as he closed his eyes again, inhaling your flowery scent mixed with his.

Your heart was pounding so loudly against your rib cage that you would have sworn he could feel it without leaning in.

You wanted to sound louder, but as your lips opened to say that yes, the sound came in almost a strangle

by all your emotions.

Astarion's eyes glimmered with a light you've never seen before resting there.

He was gentle as he undressed you, every inch that was being revealed to his eyes, was met with his yearning lips, drawing all sorts of pleading sounds from you. Your body was already shaking like a lire string as it was touched, and your lips chanting a melody for him.

His descent was agonizingly slow, but what struck you was how his movements were.

You knew he was well versed in sex, but the way he was caressing, tracing, kissing, biting, was the one of a man that was trying to listen to your reactions, to savor the tiniest sensations, to learn his lover, such a difference from the confident man that fucked you senslessly in a forest three years prior.

It was no longer about repayment for the feed or protection, it was pure undevoted love in each touch.

Just with those miniscule attentions, your heart was swelling for him, and little did you know that he was hitting him as well, all your emotions flowing around you in the small space of the tent.

Your clothes were soon on the other side of the floor and you took your time admiring him in all his beauty: the way his chest was rising, the way his skin was covered in small old marks, so carefully healed that you wouldn't be able to discern them unless you would be trying to remember his every pore.

"Gods i wish you could see yourself through my eyes right now" He sighed. "I've seen you naked so many times, but right now? No goddess could compare next to you" He kissed your navel delicately as his fingers were grazing your thighs.

You could feel your cheeks igniting at the praise. You wished for a moment you still had that tadpole eating your brain, just for a second to show him the true vision. His body was so perfect in front of you, the truly breathtaking view. You could have sworn he would have made such a perfect painting.

Before you could open your mouth though, he was praising you again.

"No words would be enough for me to explain how every curve of your body makes me ache for you, my one" He leaned forward, placing wet kisses from your neck, down to your hips, over and over again until his name was a broken mewl from you lips.

He stopped between your thighs, taking his time to spread you wide open for him. He kissed that spot that caught his mind right away, that perfect dip of your hips, where stretch marks were concentrated.

He hummed as he couldn't help but graze them with his teeth, stealing one moan that made him almost melt.

Then agonizingly slowly he kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses until his nose brushed against your clit. You wanted to beg for him to eat you, but his head turned towards the other tight, repeating the tantalizing trail of kisses until he reached for your dripping cunt.

"You are so ready for me" He kissed right above your clit, teasing you more and more. "But I have to dine first" a finger gently traced the outline of your lips, taking his time before dipping it between your folds, and earning a moan. It was so long since someone touched you, you could feel your whole body clench at the smallest touch.

He kissed your thigh again, sighing at the softness of your skin. You were so wet he just inserted another finger in you and started pumping in your pussy, drawing those perfect moans from you again, music to his pointy ears.

Then as he added another finger, his teeth sank in your plush thigh. All of your senses jolted up, amplifying everything as he started drinking from you.

His slender fingers reached right where he made you cry in pleasure, as you slowly gave in to the lightheadedness.

As he kept feeding, he still worked you like he knew every movement that would make you whimper, drawing always so near to your orgasm before pulling away.

Moments later he finally let go of your thigh, his teeth slipped away from the pricks they had made home in, and licked away the rivlet of blood still spilling from the new wound, causing your body to arch even more under his tongue. You were so close, so desperate to come you'd chant his name like a prayer, just so he'd taste you.

Instead he pulled out his fingers, taking one at a time in his mouth and sucking your slick off of them.

"You are delicious, my love" He moaned as he popped each finger out of his lips.

You were on edge, so tempted to take control and ride his face until you'd come on his lips, but you had to restrain yourself, you wanted him to guide you through it, you wanted him to have full control of his and your body.

His tongue reached for the rivlet of blood on his lips before pulling you in his lap, your thighs wrapped around his hips like they were made just for that. You could feel his erection press against your folds as he pulled you closer.

His lips and yours clashed together in something that was akin to a slow dance, your arms wrapped around his neck, while his held you by your hips.

You could drink the sighs he was letting out, the smile he grew in that intimate moment, the reason why he wanted you in this position.

For months he tried to imagine how he wanted to make love to you, how he'd feel the safest, and his mind always came back at the idea of your chests against each other, your lips so close he could kiss you, but also where he could hear your moans the closest. How he wanted you to rest against him as he whispered how perfect you were for him, he wanted you. All of you. All of your warmth, all of your skin, all of your sights, he wanted to see how he was affetting you, and how you affected him. He wanted to lift your chin, to kiss your neck, he wanted the both of you to find respite in the tight hold.

Seeing you so close to him, so vulnerable just how much he would be, it was how he wanted it to go, cause this for him was like a first time. He wanted to be overwhelmed by you, as you consumed him.

He wanted to feel his home in you. In you and only you.

He took a moment, resting against you, clinging to you like you were going to disappear from his grasp.

"If you want to stop, you just have to say it, my star" You whispered as you rested a hand in his hair, drawing circles on his scalp as he breathed in your scent, that was slowly mixing with the smell of sex.

"No my love, I'm just bathing in you before doing anything else" He admitted, placing a kiss on your neck, where he was resting his head.

"I don't think I could ever exchange this for anything. No power, or castle could compare to the home I made in your heart". His words were warm, caring, just like scorching fire against ice.

"I love you" You murmured as you caressed his cheek, and brought him back to you.

"I love you too, my one" He kissed you slowly as he guided you up. Bringing you to rest your forehead against each other as you slowly sank on his length. A gasp simultaneously filled the tent, so loud it could wake up everyone, but you didn't care. The air was pulled out of your chests, as you clinged on each other.

You both waited a moment before doing any movement, both overwhelmed by the closeness and the pleasure.

You wrapped around him so perfectly, he could barely keep any control over his body, his mind or his lips.

"Mh so perfect for me" He whispered sultry, as he guided you through the slow movement, allowing him to bottom out before having your hips meet his again, stealing another breathy moan.

It was slow, tender, so much that you could feel your eyes become glassy.

Nothing could ever compare to the fire that was spreading around your body as he picked up pace, stealing everything from you. Your air, your whimpers, your heart, over and over again.

He wanted to savor every inch of you, he would allow himself to fill you to the hilt, as he threw his head back.

"M-mine" He lulled as he couldn't resist the urge to go faster, his body loosing control of his movements.

It became all so sloppy, ragged as he grasped at you ass, his nails sinking into your skin as he slapped his hips against yours.

"This is what you do to me" He rasped as he lolled his head back. His hair wild as some curls fell on his face. His mouth agape as he choked praises.

Sweet gasps echoed between the syllables of your name, as he submitted to the pleasure.

He wanted to scream, to let everyone know you were his and no one could ever coax those sounds from him like you did, so effortlessly.

Your fingers twirled naturally around his curls, pulling his head to yours as you deepened the kiss along with your movements, savoring the taste of his lips and sweat as you made him see the stars.

You drank each other's moans with your lips as you completely gave away to the pleasure, as you gave all of you to each other.

You could barely register who was directing, cause your bodies just felt like one. Molten lava simply mixing as it burned hot like the hells.

You were so close, your whole body shaking as you could barely form a proper sentence. "L-love y-you" You muttered though your tongue felt indescribably heavy and light simultaneously.

You were drunk on him, your eyes rolling back as he hit that spot that could make you come undone. He worshiped every inch he could reach with his lips, making sure your body was left with a memory of the night, of his trust, of his love.

"You fill me so well" you praised with the last bit of your sanity, stealing the most precious sound from his lips.

Euphoria washed over Astarion as he was high on the feeling of your pussy clenching uncontrollably around him.

He pumped in you insatiably as you could feel it build up, the familiar knot as your muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and your legs shake.

You were not sure what it was, maybe it was the moaned praises, or his touch, or the way his hair bounced as he sank in your, but you felt your body being stripped of all the flesh, pleasure taking it's place as your orgasm washed over you. Your head rested on his shoulder as he was still lost in you, so close to his own release.

You knew that the only sound in the camp was your skin slapping, and the lustful sounds you'd make for each other.

The frenzy turned into a slow-burning passion, his hips rhythmically pounding in you as his lips met again with yours in a matching kiss, your moans mixing in the middle as you could feel it again, your orgasm building so quickly you barely had time to process how sensitive you were.

You let go of his lips to admire how his mouth parted, a series of whimpered moans fell from his lips as you could feel every inch of you being dragged away in the second orgasm at the sole sight.

His hips stuttered once, twice, before the arrogant orgasm sent him to the moon, spilling all his cum in your warmth.

He stayed in you for a few more moments as he processed how elated he felt.

There was no one else in the universe that would make him feel so safe, so loved. He was gentle as he laid with you in his arms, drawing shapeless lines along your velvety skin.

He couldn't hold back the tears that were forming at the edge of his eyes, as he held this night so close to his heart. For him, this was his first time, and it was with you, his other half.

You noticed right away when the first few tears started tracing his skin. You were so afraid of his reaction that this was like a shock to you, in a way.

You prayed the morninglord he wasn't already regretting the intimacy, maybe he didn't feel what you felt: that sense of belonging, the overwhelming love.

You cupped his cheek as you caught a tear with your thumb. "Are you ok, my star?" You whispered as you took away another and another with tenderness that made Astarion even more emotional.

He slowly met your gaze, his eyes so soft and his lips curled in a tender smile as the droplets still descended down his cheeks.

"I'm perfect, my love" He rested his hand on yours, clasping at your fingers and bringing them away from his cheek.

"Why are you crying?" You offered a reassuring look, the one he learned meant that you were a safe space where he could speak his mind unfiltered.

"I dreamt of this nights for months, how I would ask you, and how I'd hope this would carry out" He exhaled for a moment as he toyed with your fingers.

"And none of those dreams could ever get close to this" His smile was getting wider, accentuating those lines you loved so much.

"I don't care for sex, unless it's with you. Unless it's loving you with every inch of me, unless it means undressing ourselves and being exposed in all our vulnerability. Unless it means I get to feel you become part of me" You were absorbed by his words and his eyes, that you didn't notice he let go of your hand to hold you closer.

"You are the other part of me", He let out shakily. "I might even say you are the best part as well." He kissed your forehead tenderly. "You are my one and only" He whispered at last as he dragged the blanket he had left on the side, on your bodies. You murmured something between a love confession and a praise as he lulled you to sleep in his embrace.

You were fast asleep as he finally remembered what he was forgetting.

He summoned a mage hand, trying to be as silent as possible. The ghostly arm reached under one pillow and pulled out the velvety box, before shoving it in Astarion's backpack and dissolving its form.

"Tomorrow" He noted in his mind. "Tomorrow I'll ask you"

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woodsling · 9 months ago

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I really love the way Halsin kind of slowly opens up about his relationship with Thaniel and the Shadow Curse. He doesn't divulge everything about himself when the player asks, and sometimes it seems like he's actively somewhat obscuring the truth.

Like when he first talks about Thaniel (which, by the way, is WELL after he starts talking about the shadow curse), he says he met him in his meditations. Not true... You find out later when Halsin is talking to Oliver that he grew up with Thaniel, that they were friends when he was a child.

Similarly, he's obtuse about how the shadow curse came about until after the portal fight. When he firsts asks to join your camp, if he's questioned about his desire to go to Moonrise, he says vaguely "Unfinished business, and a lifetime of regret to repair." He says he helped overthrow Ketheric but was unable to stop the shadow curse, but doesn't breathe a word about how devastatingly personal it all was (ah, Isobel killed by Halsin storyline... Sigh. It's canon in my head.)

After the rescue of Thaniel and the recovery of Oliver, he gives a much more detailed description of what happened with Ketheric and Thaniel and his assumption of the Archdruid title way back then. He gets quite emotional then, recounting those memories - he's being vulnerable with the player.

And it really seems like the player defending the portal is a big turning point for him. He's putting all his trust in the player's ability to protect the portal and allow him to return from the Shadowfell... He literally can't do it all by himself, and while he does have a healthy respect for the part that he has to play, it's all for nothing if the player doesn't play their part as well. It's such a huge leap of faith - he's asking, "Will you stand with me and lend me your strength? Will you stay with me and help me accomplish the most important task of my life? I can't do this without you."

And when the player successfully helps him rescue Thaniel, that's when I think he falls completely head over heels. He's a little flirty before then, but after the portal fight is when you get his dialogue, "If you want me, I'm yours. Against [...] anything". This is when he can actually join the player. This is when he talks to a sleeping Thaniel about everything the player has done for him. He put his trust in them and they were there when it counted, and he totally falls for them. "I'll remain with you - If you'll have me, that is."

(Aside, I also love his line to Oliver, "...and then [Thaniel] was ripped away from me, same as for you," followed by, "but you need not be alone any longer." The parallel there, that Halsin also need not be alone any longer... Mmmmmmm yummy.)

Concealing his emotions like that... Feels guarded, and it adds dimension to him. Because generally he seems honest and straightforward with the player; he readily gives them all the information that he thinks may be relevant to their search for a tadpole fix and journey to Moonrise, even if they choose not to help him.

I think that it might be because the shadow curse is so close to his heart, because he doesn't share his trauma until he's basically given his heart to the player - before that, his walls were up.

I kinda see it too with him not mentioning his time as a drow captive until AFTER the Sharess Caress stuff. He's like, not secretive really... But it takes a lot for him to share things that dredge up deep feelings for him. He's not flippantly vulnerable.

Anyway this post is long enough I'm just having feelings about Halsin feeling safe enough to share his feelings 🥺😭

#halsin #halsin x tav #he just needs to be loved so softly do you see my vision #bg3 spoilers

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pedriache · 7 months ago

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We’re the luck ones — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Rem!reader

Summary: After welcoming your baby girl into the world, Pedri has become the most adoring father in the world. Today, you celebrate your first Christmas together as a family.

Word count: 465

Disclaimer/s: girldad!pedri , fluff !!

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about this picture of pedri so.

Rubbing your eyes, you slowly wake up from your nap. Having a baby, an infant, was exhausting, and Pedri could see that in the way your eyes had fluttered shut every few minutes while your parents were making Christmas dinner. So, being the good fiancée he was, he handed your daughter off to his mother and helped you up to the guest bedroom.

He’d tucked you into bed, assuring you that Isobel, your babygirl, would be just fine if you napped for just a bit.

‘A bit’ turned into two hours, and it was very much needed.

Fixing your hair, you quietly walk down the stairs into the living room. All the sleepiness left in you disappeared at the sight in front of you.

Pedri’s head had lulled forward, his lips forming a soft smile as his finger gently traced Isobel’s face. He was humming a quiet and inaudible tune as he cradled her in his arms.

Leaning against the door frame, you watch the two. Pedri was meant to be a dad, more specifically, a girl dad. He spoiled her immensely and she was only three months old. He’d insisted her closet and nursery be pink and perfect and.. oh God, he’d gotten her, her first pair of Doc Martins already.

It was sweet, but she wouldn’t even grow into them for at least another four to five months.

Pedri’s head lifts, his eyes meeting yours in surprise. “When did you wake up?” He asks, keeping his voice down as to not wake Isobel up.

“Not too long ago.” You shrug, padding across the room to ease your way onto the couch seat beside him. “Has she been asleep the whole time?”

The mans head shakes, “no, she just fell asleep.”

Humming in response, your head leans to rest against Pedri’s shoulder, your hand reaching out to fix her shirt. Words are no longer exchanged, but you offer each other a quick look, matching smiles on your faces.

You’d created an angel, a perfect, beautiful baby girl. Whether she was on purpose or not, you both wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“I love you.” Pedri murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

“I love you too.” You tilt your head up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, “Merry Christmas.”

Pedri was about to speak again, but the small sounds eliciting from Isobel had both your attention turning back to the infant. Her eyes fluttered open, the backs of her hands rubbing her yes as she stretched.

Your eyes flicker up to Pedri, watching his face contort into a separate kind of love from what he gave you. A look that assured you he would love her like no other. A look that assured you, he would be the most perfect father.

likes , comments , reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @cececarmona17

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez x y/n #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez fluff #blurb #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 1 year ago

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Me: *bolts awake at 3 AM* BALDUR'S GATE 3 AU WHERE, THROUGH DIMENSIONAL SHENANIGANS, KRATOS ENDS UP OCCUPYING THE ROLE OF TAV!

THINK OF IT! JUST THINK OF IT!

Companion: So any that's how that God/Being of incredible power ruined my life.

Kratos, noted Godslayer, planning how he's going to destroy yet another pantheon for these weird little mortals he's found himself in charge of: Tell me more.

*later*

Gale and Astarion: Becoming a God would fix me, I promise!

Kratos: *knocks their heads together like the Three Stooges* No.

His favorite companion is actually Jaheira because she's one of the only ones who knows how to shut the fuck up and he bonds with her and Minthara over shitty jokes and grunts of displeasure.

Mizora takes one look at him, recognizes that Wyll and Karlach are now hanging with THE KRATOS and hides in the depths of Avernus for the rest of the game.

He is hella distrustful of Selune when Shadowheart starts worshiping her instead of Shar but Dame Aylin seems alright so he's okay with it for now even if he's watching every statue of Selune they pass with a suspicious eye.

Lae'zel is now his daughter. He takes one look at this angry, disagreeable little murder-hobo and immediately starts carrying her around in a baby-backpack even as she tries to bite his face off like a feral racoon.

He's actually hella sympathetic towards Ketheric Thorm because... like... yeah...

His endgame is leading a crusade in Avernus to kill Zariel with Karlach, Wyll, Minthara, Dame Aylin and Isobel with him. And once Zariel is dead, Shar, Mystra, and Vlaakith are next on his list.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION?! DO YOU?! KRATOS BEING THE AWKWARD LEADER OF THESE LITTLE MORTAL FREAKS HE SEES A LITTLE BIT OF HIMSELF IN ALL OF THEM AND DECIDES TO HELP THEM WITH ALL 5 OF HIS B+ PARENTING SKILLS!

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boonoonoonus · 2 months ago

Text

A Glitch in Time (Pt 2)

THIS IS FOR 18+, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE

Warnings: Adult, Omegaverse, An@l sex. Knotting, explicit breeding kinks

Couples: Smoke X Annie; Smoke X Annie X Stack; Mary X Stack

Summary: Annie dies, but instead of reunifying with her baby, Isobel, Smoke, and her NanBes, she finds herself in a new world with familiar faces and a freedom unlike what she was used to in the past. Now, she navigates what it means to be an omega in a world where she can be anyone and anything, yet all the still infamous Moore twins want is for her to become theirs. It seemed no matter what life she lived, Annie was doomed to be at their sides.

Notes: This was inspired by this fic here, please feel free to check it out, but it is not in this fandom - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570709

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There was a community within the women and the omega bathroom that Annie had never experienced before. The shared joy, freely given compliments and open exchange of lipstick and laughter meant that the space of toilets and sinks was a solace and a haven.

She hummed happily, sending the person at her side with long blue locs, a silver septum ring that complemented their warm brown skin tone and a gap in their front teeth. They gave Annie a smile and a giggle, fixing a loc in the front of her face before waving goodbye and flouncing away. Annie’s laughter tinkled in the air, and she shook her head slightly as she lined her lips once more and applied her rouge.

A deep purple blossomed across her lips, whitening her teeth and brightening her eyes. She adored the makeup and beautification rituals that she had access to at this time, the pretty frocks, different types of shoes of varying heights and just the true freedom of choice. She didn’t have to worry about Tignon law like her great granny did, or offending one of the White ladies for having a full chest rising on top of her stays and chatelaine. During this time, she was free and she had that shit on as Annie-Mae would say.

Annie was so engrossed in applying her makeup that she missed the woman at her side until a familiar voice asked, “Do you happen to have a Tampax?”

Annie looked to her side and despite Annie-Mae urging her to school, her expression, she couldn’t help the delight that swelled inside her as she looked into Mary’s face.

Mary was a sight for sore eyes. She had loose chestnut curls, warm brown eyes and a cheeky grin akin to that of a Cheshire cat. Annie couldn’t help her smile as she softly spoke, “Of course, give me a moment.” She reached into her satchel and quickly sourced the menstruation tube, double-checking the painkiller bulb was still properly attached and handed it over to Mary.

Immediately, the other woman gushed happily and squealed, clutching at Annie’s hand and demanding she “do not make a move, I’ll be right back” before heading into the sphere. As the glass around the capsule came down and glass frosted in obscurity, Annie saw her reflection and the tender smile on her lips.

Mary hadn’t changed a bit.

Annie-Mae sucked her teeth from in position in Annie’s head but she begrudgingly admitted that Mary looked fantastic in her outfit and the woman knew how to choose a shoe.

“Oh, you waited, wonderful!” Mary exclaimed as she exited and walked to the sink, outstretched hands waiting for the glob of soap that fell out of the dispenser and thoroughly washed her hands. “Oh, you’re simply just a bit of me,” Mary said with a shrug, shooting Annie a grin over her shoulder. “Thank you kindly for the Tampax, I always forget to carry one in my purse when I’m between pills.”

Annie had learned about the birth control pill from Annie-Mae. The ability to control her womb was nothing new to her, having used teas liberally as he grandmother had taught her, but the pills allowed for more flexibility and no aches and swelling. Annie-Mae hadn’t been on birth control since Beau-Dallas, and so Annie hadn’t started a course yet, but she knew that it was recommended that you cycled through a course, then took a break just to check in any side effects and go straight back on, and women were the same at any time. They spoke openly and honestly when in private, and nearly nothing was off the table; you just had to find the right woman to talk to, to get the information you needed.

“Now, come with me, lemme buy you a drink.” Mary didn’t bother to ask permission, simply grabbing Annie’s forearm and pulling her out of the restroom.

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“Annie, I’d like to introduce you to Stack,” Mary offered kindly to her as the man drew nearer. They were back in the main part of the club, but instead of the crowded part of the bar where she’d been standing with Chloe and Zinnia, Annie had been brought to another, more private area with far fewer people and another long bar.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Stack purred with a tilt of his head in Annie’s direction.

“Have you now?” Mary mused, looking at Stack up and down before turning back to Annie and shooting her a smile, “Well, Annie, Stack’s my packmate, unfortunately.” She shot him a look that pulled a grin onto his handsome face and highlighted his dimples on either side.

“Packmate?” Annie questioned, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah,” Mary looked at Stack fondly, “he’s my family.”

“You’re the alpha?” Annie blurted out in question.

Stack barked a laugh and smirked. “I’m an alpha, potentially even your alpha, but I’m not thee alpha. That’s Smoke.”

Mary gestured to the shadows high in the bar where Annie couldn’t see too clearly, but she had no doubt Amoke was up there, hiding in the shadows as he had once done before. This club was far from Club Juke, though it was similarly named 'Club Gemini', and if she were to make an educated guess, it was a joint entrepreneurial endeavour between the twins. She stifled a laugh and smiled encouragingly.

“Afa Smoke is somewhere up there, keeping an eye on this one.”

“Aht aht,” Stack interjected with pursed lips, “you mean us. Keeping an eye on US.” He emphasised his last words, and Annie quickly gained the impression that this wasn’t the first time this Stack and Mary had had this particular conversation.

“Stack, you can’t be trusted to watch your own back; that’s why we have the buddy system.” Mary quipped, patting him on the shoulder and shooting Annie a grin before grasping her hand gently. “Anyways, enough of him, come tell me about yourself, Annie, he’ll get the drinks.”

She was brought to a seating area that offered a little privacy from prying eyes and encouraged to take a seat on the plush chairs.

Time passed fast.

The club was opulent, and Annie found she enjoyed herself once she messaged Chloe and Zinnia on her PerCom and put it aside.

In a world where Stack and Mary were not persecuted for their love, they had found a healthy balance to make their relationship work. It also helped that from here she could tell, Smoke being the Afa of their pack meant that Stack could be as head empty as he preferred, now there were many more people to support Smoke, not just himself, and it helped make him more responsible in a way. He didn't have to be the light to Smoke's darkness; both could encapsulate multitudes.

Mary here was a firecracker, too. She'd always been feisty, but now, she seemed electric. Annie got the feeling that this set of the Moore twins had never left her behind twiddling her thumbs; she had gone out into the world and grabbed it by the reins. She managed Club Gemini and spoke a multitude of languages, some from Earth, many not. She was confident, self-assured, and happy. Though a part of Annie wept to know that they all seemed to have carried on with life happily without her in this lifetime, that whilst she ached and mourned, they seemed okay.

Stack seemed content to simply listen to them talk. He disappeared every once in a while to handle business, a dentastick in the corner of his mouth, but Annie found she didn't quite mind.

On his last reappearance, though, he did not arrive alone.

As Stack waltzed up to their table, shadows seemed to bend at his back and out of the darkness came a figure breathing two prongs of heavy pastel purple smoke.

"Afa Smoke, here to make your acquaintance, fair Annie," Stack introduced, waving his hand over his brother as though Annie wouldn't recognise him in any space or time. Mary giggled, amused, and Annie couldn't help her own smile.

"Nice to meet you, Smoke," she offered kindly and she was met with a gruff, "likewise."

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Annie was just about the strangest omega Smoke had ever met on Earth and across the galaxies. But that suited Elijah Moore just fine, because as unorthodox as Annie was, she was perfect for them. Annie was special because he was the Smokestack’s Ohm, the omega meant for them, for their pack.

So it didn’t matter too much to him that she didn’t preen like other omegas did, or that she seemed so unaware of her scent and her allure, spreading it freely as though it was acceptable behaviour. She didn’t rely on her dynamic when she had a disagreement with men, quick to argue her point and stand up for herself.

Everything seemed forgivable, apart from her reluctance to engage with the pack properly. That, that made his teeth ache.

Now, she was polite, unfailingly so, but she was an omega who didn’t want to be an Ohm, didn’t want to belong to a pack and didn’t want an alpha. Instead, she wanted to traipse around the world and leave him without an Ohm, without a better half. Without his woman, and Smoke couldn’t have that.

Their current back and forth, the ease she had in his presence, the fact that she welcomed him when she met him in public, was better than the reality that would have arose if they’d ran with his initial suggestion when he’d first laid eyes on her from ontop the rafters in the Club. He’d been ready to steal her away, mate her and deal with the aftermath. It had taking Sammie singing sweetly and strumming on that guitar, and Stack pleading reason with him to change his mind. Eventually, he acquiesced to Stack’s plan - slow and steady, easing her into their lives. Smoke followed his direction because he, more so than anyone else, had wanted an Ohm for their pack, yearning for someone to fill that role. Till now, Smoke didn’t see the appeal too tough, he’d met many an omega, and most were underwhelming, pretty smelling, but that was it. Too vapid, too pampered, too wrong. That was until Annie. Annie, Annie was perfection, and now he wanted perfection.

Originally, they’d toyed with the idea of playing one man again, encouraging Annie to fall in love with Eli and breaking the news to her later after she’d stumbled into Stack’s arms. But, Mary had protested so much against that plan that Smoke shelved it before it even had a proper outline. The girl had too far a bleeding heart, but he found he couldn’t hold it against her when she’d siphoned so much information from her for them. Then, Smoke couldn’t think of being denied his fair share of her, not after she’d been tasted by his better half. He wanted his own relationship with Annie. He wanted them.

His pack also agreed. Bo and Therise were easy, and Cornbread, well, Cornbread liked everyone, a real jovial giant that made the home warm. Grace already really liked Annie, having met her at the green-grocers and when she brought little Lisa to her for supplements when she’d been going through some growing pains. Her treatment of the pack’s only babe at the moment (though Lisa resented the perception that she was the baby and prayed more than anyone else for Therise to deliver baby Breadcrumb safely and quickly in hopes of a sibling) had solidified her in the hearts of the Smokestack pack.

So, with the whole pack in agreement, Smoke couldn’t see a world without Annie at their sides, as their Ohm, and so he played the long game, patiently waiting and biding his time to eventually thread her into the pack. It went against all of his instincts, but soon they could begin their lives all together. It was just a matter of waiting out the impact her near-death experience had had on her.

That was also information that rose Smoke’s hackles, that mere months ago, before he had even met her, he almost lost her, and he couldn’t imagine a world without her now, refused to live in one.

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Annie was sure as shit that she would never return to her time, or the life after with Isobel and her grandmother. When she cast lots, her she could not divine much of her future besides the overwhelming understanding that she was meant to be exactly where she was. There was no longer any home for her to return to outside of the life she lived with Annie-Mae, and she was learning to be content with that. In this world, men travelled through space, lived on Mars, Black people were free-ish and yet one could not travel back in time, only to the future. Despite all this, she couldn’t find it within herself to mourn when life was to be lived.

It helped that life had become more interesting since she had bucked upon the Smoke-Stack twins again. Unlike in her life as Annie, Annie-Mae was much less forgiving off men, especially after Beau Dallas, and as such whenever Annie’s heart softened even a moment towards the twins, Annie-Mae forcefully reminded her exactly why men weren’t shit, that Smoke had left her for seven years to mourn their daughter alone, that Stack had changed her into some demon against her will, that time and time again Moore men had taken liberties with her heart.

On the other hand, Annie-Mae softened almost immediately to Mary because in every iteration, Mary’s heart was honest and earnest, and it was hard to maintain dislike.

The only issue with living within the world Annie found was living as an omega.

She also found her mind wandering over the heat process. Omegas experienced monthly fertile periods that culminated in quarterly heats that allowed for mating. From what Annie had researched, previously people had thought heats were the human versions of breeding seasons as other animals experienced, but Annie remembered a time when women could get pregnant near monthly and it seemed after exploring the hypothesis, medicine had come back around to the belief’s that heats were not for breeding but instead bonding.

Heats, ruts for alphas, allowed for bonds to be established and solidified and for new people to be added to the packs and initiated into the dynamics. Annie-Mae had managed to avoid her bonding season with previous partners, and Annie had no intention of sharing her eventual heat, especially after reviewing Annie-Mae’s memories. After the Beau-Dallas debacle, she found focusing on her work and family would be much more productive.

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She doubted anyone in old Clarksdale would have ever believed that the elusive and terrifying Smoke was the type of man to hover as she found this one to. It wasn’t too obtrusive, but he hovered enough for Annie to notice that he felt entitled to her personal space. Stack was easy enough to avoid, as he understood boundaries even if he didn’t obey them, and didn’t show up at her work or volunteer areas, but Smoke, on the other hand, she found Smoke to be a man unused to the word no. She couldn’t blame him too much, she knew she was once his peace and wondered if this iteration of him sensed that within her, the love and care she’d carried within her heart for that Moore man.

For her community, she offered energetic attunements, cleansings and spiritual work within her remit, and Stack had sourced her out for his brother’s benefit. Trauma affected people differently, and Annie was shocked, having had to conduct her work covertly in the past, just how open Black men were now to their trauma and addressing it. When they were littler, and Annie moved to Clarksdale from Louisiana, her grandmother had spoken often of the heartache she felt at the lives the Moore twins lived, that their daddy was a drunk and the mama hadn’t lived long enough to love on her sons, leaving them to draw themselves up. (Though Annie had always seen the tall, slim woman walking alongside her sons, stroking their hair, or laughing at their quips and spending time around them. No matter the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes or the wistfulness in Stack’s voice, she’d always been comforted knowing they weren’t truly alone.)

When Stack had first brought his brother for healing, it had been easy to sink into Smoke’s energy again, to wade through the thick grief and deep abiding love to gather the trauma in hand. This Smoke was alike hers in many ways. He too was a veteran, of intergalactic warfare and not the Great War this time around, his father hadn’t changed much and was still an abusive piece of shit, and he still had trouble sleeping. Yet, whereas her Smoke wore his mojobag with scepticism, not feeding it in the manner she’d hoped with his own belief and ancestral essence, this one relaxed in her presence and allowed her energy access to his mind, body, and spirit.

When she had him lying face down, her hands laden with anointing oil and Florida water, she worked the root of his trauma, massaging the muscles as she pulled at the remnants, the shards she found left behind. She worked it to the surface, bringing up grunts and hisses of pain from between Smoke’s lips, but she couldn’t still in her work. She sunk her fingers into one particular spot in his lower back near his kidneys, sensing something had penetrated straight through the skin but had left its mark. The skin was unmarked, but Annie dug her thumbs in and gasped when she felt the opening of the flood gates and the energy release out in waves. The release of the pressure was felt, and she knew that the energetic exchange did not just register for her because, seven days later, he appeared at her door.

“How you been?” His gruff voice asked as she opened the door. Annie couldn’t help her smile; she hummed, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms in front of her body. He was smoking, puffing heavily, but there was less tension in his shoulders, and his signature blue corded necklace sat against his neck with a matching blue bracelet Annie had never seen before on his wrist. He looked better, and she could see in his essence that he felt better too, stronger, more resolute, confident, though Annie couldn’t imagine a time in which he wasn’t confident.

“No misery’s worth complaining about,” she quipped, glancing at the bag in his hands and raising her brow. “Whatchu have there, Smoke?”

Smoke didn’t take his eyes off her as he raised the bag high. “It’s a gift, something I thought you might like.”

Annie hummed and rose from her position and walked into her home. “You coming?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. Smoke grunted, stepping into her home and taking his shoes off at the door.

“Jus’ wanted to give my thanks,” he explained somewhat shyly as Annie peeled back the paper wrapping. The snake beneath her hands was bleeding from the neck, but otherwise in perfectly good condition, the scales a beautiful gold yellow against the bright red of the blood.

“My thanks, it’s a beaut.”

She couldn’t help the soft smile that reached her eyes, the glee when his bashful side appeared, and he averted his gaze.

After that, it was as if the dam had broken.

Alphas were no different to the men of the past, and Annie quickly found that if you gave an alpha an inch, they took a mile and then some. Smoke felt no way to make himself comfortable at her apartment. She didn’t know how he gained access, but then again, he’s acted the same in their previous life, wherever she was, Smoke just felt entitled to be. Despite him filling up her space with his broad shoulders, long periods of silence and ever-present cigarette smoke, Annie found his company comforting. A product of the little good rearing he received, he always finished his plate and washed the dishes, helped carry the soil up the stairs, when she’d stumbled and ripped the shelf of the hinges he calmly caught her, placed her feet first on the ground and the next day Annie came home to a fixed wall and reinforcements on all her shelves. He was a man of few words, with a face made up of entirely too many scowls and narrowed eyes, but his warm hands, calloused fingers and steady assurance won over her heart slowly.

There were changes; he wasn’t identical to her Smoke, and it made her heart warm that bit further. She hadn’t seen the childhood awkwardness of this Smoke attempting to court her at sixteen, nor had she seen evidence of a yearning to prove himself in this Smoke. Without Jim Crow and the crackers on his back, this Smoke seemed less eager to prove himself and more assured in a way, Annie couldn’t put an exact finger on it, but it meant that Smoke felt somewhat different to her. It also helped that, as an alpha, Smoke smelled so good to her now, and looked good too.

With his longer hair, he kept it in its natural texture and mostly unbraided, unlike Stack, his skin was a warm sepia brown, and his styling seemed more intentional than before. Around his neck, he wore a single gold chain and his blue braided cord necklace, a twin to Stack’s red one. She knew he had other adornments, mirrored tattoos with Stack and in either ear two studs that she knew were worth the cost of an intergalactic funeral in the event he never made it back Earthside.

When Annie had rocked up on Mary and Stack that night, she had seen it as an opportunity for some revenge, to change the tide against her feelings for her once family and to claw back a small bit of revenge. She had never intended to allow Stack to bring Smoke back into her life and for him to nestle, burrowing her way back into her heart.

Still, though her mind knew to be cautious, her body eschewed such reasoning. Though her mind and Annie-Mae knew to keep a distance from Smoke, her body had been on something else the past couple of days.

Annie’s body had been uncharacteristically sensitive, more so than when she was on her monthlies. Her nose had burned something fierce, her nipples and back ached, the back of her neck kept tingling, and each touch against her too sensitive skin made her flush. She was needy, wanton in a manner that her grandmother would have once called loose, but instead laughed sweetly at when she brought it up to her during their weekly check-ins. Nana-Bet just reminded her to drink plenty of water and bring her ‘nice, new young alpha’ around the house when she was ready. Those words made Annie roll her eyes as she had no one who fit that bill in her life, but her Nana merely smirked.

However, despite Annie-Mae’s rather defiant attitude and iron resolution, even she had fallen victim to the desires of the flesh and allowed Smoke liberties when he appeared in their apartment that week. After eating some vegan lentil curry she’d made from shelf staples and the vegetables and herbs she grew on her balcony and in the community garden, Smoke had washed the dishes and cleaned up, she’d them both a spliff and instead of listening to the soft crooning of Leila Darke, she instead was pantiless, seated on his lap and grinding down on him.

It was such a switch up to the resistance she’d maintained with Smoke before that she could sense the alpha’s smugness at her back. Smoke, ever a man of very few words, didn’t say anything, but his satisfaction radiated; Annie could smell it and his desire for her surrounding them. But, neither Annie nor Annie-Mae had a thing to say in return, not when she was being soothed by the slow rocking against Smoke’s cock and her attention was consumed by his everything, even as he pushed gently past the boundaries she’d erected around her body and heart. The entirety of her attention was focused on the cock rocking between her thighs and the broad mass at her back.

Moore men had always possessed long dicks, Annie had heard about it when she first arrived in Clarksdale. Just like their daddy Solomon, his brother Pastor Jed, and all the men in their family she couldn’t remember any longer, the twin’s had come into possession of big dicks and whilst not the size of Cornbread’s monster (she’d heard enough that from Therise), they weren’t too far off and it was why their posse, alongside Cornbread and Bo Chow, was called the twelve legs. When Annie had first attempted to make love with Smoke, her virgin puss had not reacted well and it took many more sessions to get Smoke to fill her properly without pain, and even then, her boyfriend turned husband had enjoyed pushing her beyond her limits and bruising her cervix every chance he got. This current Smoke was no exception. He possessed a long thick dick, made worse with those alpha testes and the looser skin at the base she now knew were to allow him to balloon a knot. Smoke had always had a pretty cock but it was made even more sensual by the thick gold ring through the tip of his cock, ‘Prince Albert’ Annie-Mae supplied her mind in awe, her mouth dribbling and salivating at the sight of Smoke’s cock between her thighs. It reached between her thighs and up to her naval, his tip leaking steadily and bobbing against her skin and leaving behind sticky seed that connected her body to his tip. At her back, Smoke smoked leisurely, blowing rings into the air as he ground himself against her in a slow, sensual manner.

As they were identical twins, she knew Stack’s was the same and not for the first time wondered, just exactly how Mary could fit all that dick in her small puss, but each time she’d asked the other woman, she’d always just laughed and gave Annie another tip or trick she’d used against Stack in their intimate moments.

Not for the first time, Annie thought it was too big, and Annie-Mae supplied her an image of Beau-Dallas that only made it more apparent the discrepancies between typical penises and that of the ones belonging to these thoroughbred, corn-fed alpha Moore men. It was long and thick, too wide for Annie to wrap one hand around it fully and long enough to prod into her navel and once again bruise her cervix into oblivion if she allowed him.

Annie-Mae also knew her way around bodies better than Annie. Where Smoke had staked a claim against her body and forced her body to keep his mark in the form of her name, remember him in all moments, even in the seven years of solitude, each time she had entertained the idea of finding a partner for a moment to share in life with, he visited her in her dreams and fucked her like a dog in front of those men. He ruined her for anyone else and shaped her body and soul into his receptacle, but this Smoke had not the privilege of doing so. Annie-Mae hadn’t experienced Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore in her tender years, hadn’t fallen for his charm and taken his last name and his seed within her to carry. Instead, Annie-Mae was raised as a cherished and treasured omega and was unused to not getting her way with men, especially alphas.

The memory of her giving her body to Smoke, the pain, the pleasure, the blood streaked sheets, the ache in her hips and the bite marks on her nipples, juxtaposed with Annie-Mae’s memories of riding Beau-Dallas, hand around his neck, the way in which he tenderly and lovingly ate her puss and the two fingers he always pressed into her ass when he was hitting it from the back. Both sets of memories collided and the desires of the past merged with the present and had slick rushing from her core and flowing onto the pulsating length that parted her second lips, and as she ground herself against it, she felt the sharp, blissful pain of a slap against the meat of the ass and thigh. She groaned, a single tear rolling from the corner of her eye, as Smoke ground himself against her leaking puss, using his free hand to grab hold of her hip dip and pull him against her tight as he blew smoke against her ear, before placing the spliff to the side and licking up her neck.

With his now free hand, he reached around and pinched at throbbing clit, pulling a yell from Annie’s throat as he kept his nose in her neck. Smoke tightened his grip on the fold of her hip, fingers digging into the flesh, and Annie matched his fierceness, pulling roughly on the tip of the nipple, moaning in pleasure.

Annie let herself be used, in the same manner she had allowed Smoke to do so in the time before, in a way Annie-Mae was incredulous about. When Smoke muttered in a rough voice, “Tight’n yourself up,” into her ear, and she didn’t hesitate to obey. She reached down, emboldened by Annie-Mae and tilted the tip of the alpha’s cock towards herself, fingers brushing the gold ring, and curling onto her body somewhat to catch the pearly white cum in her mouth. She clenched painfully on nothing, and as she rested back against Smoke, she despaired at the half knot that rubbed against her clitoris and throbbed against her spread mons.

Their sweat mingled as Annie rested against Smoke, and the alpha continued to rub at her thigh as he lit a cigarette from the half-opened packet that Annie kept in the house against her better judgement.

Wasn’t that a funny thought, against her better judgement.

Well, that’s exactly what Smoke was, against her better judgement.

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Though Annie would allow Smoke liberties, access to her body that she had denied him before, she felt in her heart that she couldn’t allow him to seed her properly. That it would open a door, a portal she couldn’t allow. ‘Not now at least’ was whispered in the back of her mind by Annie-Mae, and she ignored it.

So when Smoke slid his thick cock between her folds, she pulled from his grip and angled her pussy away from his touch. “N-not there Smoke,” she reached down between her legs to grasp at the base of Smoke’s dick and moved it towards her pucker, and she leaned her body down to rest her shoulders on the mattress and push back onto his dick.

“Woman?!” Smoke asked incredulously, in his rough sex laden voice, “whatchu doin’?” He paused in his movements, though Annie could still tell there was desire in the air, and he made no move to shift away in disgust. Annie knew some men didn’t like it that way, but she knew sometimes that people spoke shit they didn’t mean behind close doors.

“You don’t want this hole, Smoke? Too hot fer yuh?”

“I ain’t neva asked for no ass off nobody.”

“I know, you not that typa man,”

His dick flexed happily inside of Annie as she slid down further, but his words were sincere.

“Not anymore, nah, I bee’n changed.”

Annie had always been a thorough person, so she cleaned her back passage in the wash and made sure all was good, and even in her intimate times, fingered it to keep it flexible in the ways Annie-Mae liked for sexy times. Yet, the feeling of Smoke’s dick spreading her hole, pressing the crown further than she had ever anticipated for sensual time. The cold gold of his piercing a contrast to the heat of his dick in her ass and she shuddered against the sheets as it rearranged her innards. It felt bigger than before, and she was overwhelmed by the sensation. Her ring felt raw as Smoke pushed further, and she met his pelvis, their bodies flush against one another.

He moved his hands over her ass reverently, as though she was a goddess in flesh and Annie could only moan, as his stroking turned to kneading the flesh of her ass and opening his legs somewhat to give him the angle to lower his hips and slowly thrust into her.

A yelp escaped Annie’s lips when a large hand struck her ass to hard it jiggled and wobbled.

"Ride me, baby. Fuck. You put my cock in your ass Annie, so ride it."

His voice was deep, husky in a way Annie had never heard before. It was deeply authoritative, and combined with the look within his eyes, she knew there was no room to broker or negotiate. Smoke meant business.

Shivering slightly, Annie acquiesced. It was a distinct change from their previous sexual encounters, which were driven purely by lust and her memories of Smoke. She was meeting Elijah again, the side of him that frightened and disconcerted others. The side that had once put a ring on her finger and bound her spirit and body to him in all realms throughout all time. In the back of her mind, she felt Annie-Mae fall back, as though she was apprehensive of what was occurring, the feelings stirring within her spirit.

Obeying his command, that of her once husband's, her Smoke, her Elijah, she sat up and rolled her hips against him with purpose. She arched her back like that of a cat and rocked against him with purpose, the burn in her booty echoing through her lower back.

The sweet friction of his length inside her ass and the stretch of her ring, had Annie dripping steadily from her cooze, her juices running down her legs and onto the sheets below. It was painful, but a pain that brought pleasure to Smoke, and she fed on his enjoyment of her body.

Moaning at Smoke’s fucking, the feel of his burgeoning knot forcing her ring wider and catching against the tight, formerly unused, muscles, Annie moved a hand behind her head to grip behind Smoke’s neck and drag him down for a kiss. Contorting around one another, it was messy, sloppy, uncomfortable thing, made worse by Smoke’s consistent fucking into her sore body. Their teeth repeatedly knocked against each other, spit leaked from the corner of their mouths, their lips tugged, bit and pulled back and forth. Annie almost bit off his tongue at a particularly harsh thrust, but it was simply the best kiss they had ever shared. Even Annie-Mae was quiet in the back of Annie’s head, enjoying the pleasure and unable to bring forth any thoughts against Smoke.

“You so perfect Annie,” Smoke praised, pistoning his hips deeper into her warmth. He relished in the feel of her plump cheeks slamming against his lap, the sound of their sweat slicked skin slapping together, the squelch of her hole milking his dick, the noises he forced out of her pussy each time he thrusted deeper.

“Everything I’ve ever wanted, ever’thing I needed.

“The best fuck.

“The best love.

“The best ass I’ve ever had.

“I bet that puss gon’ be the best too.”

Smoke’s stilted praises put her over the edge and Annie gushed as she came. Her pussy flexed around empty air, gushing slick onto Smoke’s lap, and queefing loudly in a manner that would have had her mortified in another time, but now just became a background sound to her pleasure. Her wet leaked to her hole and aided the hard length fucking into her body ruthlessly. Her stuffed hole seized around Smoke’s cock, holding him tightly, even as the alpha’s movements became more vicious and his grip tightened on her further. Annie, feeling light-headed and boneless, leaned her entire weight backwards against Smoke, breathless and drunk on her orgasm.

Smoke’s enjoyment was clear, with a cigarette in his mouth and his hands gripping her hips tightly, he eased himself back in, growling around his cigarette, keeping it afloat in the air with his teeth. After only the nib remained, he slapped Annie’s quivering ass cheek with an open palm and placed the nib in the ashtray to his left.

“Squeeze your ass. Fuck down on this dick baby. All the way. Hit that knot,” he uttered short, precise orders, matching her rhythm and slapping her ass in tandem. “Sit back on this dick. Bounce that shit baby,” he growled pulling Annie further onto his cock and grinding his burgeoning knot into her tight ring.

“Tight’n that shit up.

“Ride me.

“Come on, baby, faster.

“Ride that shit like you mean it woman.

“Faster.

“You sat on this dick so show me what you want to do with it.”

Despite the euphoria of her orgasm waning, Smoke kept feeding his cock into that once tight hole, the friction pulling an orgasm from his body, his leg jigging in pleasure. And Annie felt his knot pressing against her hole until it sank fully into her body with a pop.

As his knot fully inflated, he fucked up with more force, pushing his knot all the way inside her snug channel and shooting his cum deep into her gut like she was some whore, he didn’t even ask permission. Instead, painting her inner walls white with his hot seed and wrapping her body in his scent.

Smoke grunted as his warmth filled her stomach and though Annie’s body was exhausted, worn form exertion and pain, she still clenched down her ass, milking more seed from Smoke’s spurting dick. His thick knot, pressed just inside her sore rim, kept her plugged firmly with the thick cum that sloshed in her gut.

She moaned loudly, echoed by Smoke who groaned at the feel of her tightening around him but he didn’t make a move to fuck into her again. Instead, he stilled his perspiring body and panted for breath as he rubbed Annie’s spread thighs, thumbing the stretch marks that ran up to her back. They sat like that for a moment, just soaking in the bliss of being together, the intimacy, the warmth. Annie raised herself onto her haunches and mewled, nuzzling the fine skin under Smoke’s chin, enjoying the scratching of his moustache and beard against her skin.

His eyes closed in a peace Annie had never seen before, even in her previous life Smoke, Elijah, had never presented such a peace in his face and body, even when she pressed Isobel into his hands after her first breathe, there had been war in his furrowed brow and overwhelming love in his eyes.

When Smoke parted his lashes, Annie saw dark brown eyes staring tenderly at her for a long moment before looking into the mirror she had placed adjacent to her bed. With a smooth motion, Smoke grabbed under Annie’s thighs and hefted her into the air, and pulled her back against him so that he weight rested against his body and her hips spread wide as though she was preparing to bear a child. The action shifted Annie deeper against his cock and helped open her like a flower, displaying both of her holes in the mirror. Annie gave a startled cry at the unexpected movement. Annie hesitated, Annie-Mae raging despite being satiated as a result of her orgasm, but Annie ignored her inner voice. Instead, she read the order in Smoke’s eyes as he caught his eyes in the mirror.

Annie quickly raised a trembling hand and traced a gentle finger around her swollen vulva. She shuddered at the prickling sensation running up her spine, meeting the ache radiating deep in her back, even with the gentle touch. She hesitated for a moment, before pushing her finger deep into her sopping wet pussy, meeting Smoke’s thrust. She stared at her ruin in the mirror, her hand in front of her spread lips, the drool that trickled out of her, the bright pink flushed with blood against her sable skin, and her single finger disappearing between her pink folds, rooting around her sacred. It was such a filthy sight that her puss couldn’t help but tighten at it.

When she raised her head again, she caught Smoke’s eyes in the mirror. They were narrowed dangerously, his pupils were blown wide, and his canines were pronounced in his mouth as he rocked into her. The sight sent a shiver up her spine, and she averted her gaze, unable to meet the animalistic desire clear in Smoke’s face. She returned her attention to her actions between her thighs and tried not to match Smoke’s heavy breathing. His fingers dug deeper, harder into the tender flesh of her thighs, blunt nails close to cutting into her skin and drawing blood.

Annie-Mae swore that she felt that thick, long dick get bigger, push harder, press deeper against her sore inner walls, the cold of the gold helping her track it within her. She curled her finger within herself slightly, moaning as she thrust in and out of her wet puss and searched for her spot. She pulled pleasure from her pain, and it seemed the lewd display caught and kept Smoke’s attention as he growled lowly in her ear and commanded her to “put another finger in that puss.”

Annie had always been weak to Smoke’s demands, even if she protested, so she acquiesced. She slowly inched another finger to her vulva, slipping another finger within her pussy and stretching herself wider and helping her cunt gush around the digits.

“Open that puss for papa.”

Annie scissored her fingers into her depth and fucked herself at Smoke’s brutal pace, every so often she pulled at her labia, letting Smoke see her intimate places, spreading herself wide before letting it close again.

Smoke couldn’t take his eyes off her. She could feel his gaze tracing her skin even when she tried her best not to meet his gaze. It seemed she couldn’t stay away from him, that each time she chanced a glance, his eyes met hers, drawn to one another. She disliked how she looked, the few moments she caught her reflection in the mirror, it was painfully open, the constant flux of pleasure and pain showing in her dazed eyes and struck expression, the few jolts of pain creased her brow and bit into her lip when the thrusts got too deep, too full. Her eyes were almost always half closed, her body flushed and hot to the touch, her teeth clenching as her body milked Smoke’s knot and her pussy leaked around her fingers which weren’t enough. Still, no matter her feelings, she knew Smoke loved the sight, revelled in the picture of her rocking on the brink.

Smoke delighted in the warmth of Annie’s back pressed to his front, the trust of her leaning her entire weight against him. The trust Smoke would hold her up, that he was strong enough to hold her up and keep her afloat. He pressed a kiss against the sweaty crown of her head and rested his chin against her, looking down on her with pure emotion in his eyes as she paused in her self-pleasure.

Annie’s calm, measured moments of pleasure tipped her into another ear-splitting orgasm, that ran down her spine and tingled in her feet. Smoke watched as her fingers, pushed past her knuckles stretched her pussy wide and was framed by her plump labia and curly hair. She’d cummed around her fingers, white and frothy, dribbling onto the sheets below her body.

With small breaths, Annie kept her fingers stuffed deep inside her pussy and closed her eyes.

“You gon’ make me cum,” Smoke growled before stilling. “Fuck, Imma seed your ass baby."

It took almost no time for Smoke to unload his seed inside of Annie, lodged deep in her ass, his ring rubbing against her channel, and even less time for her to orgasm, growling in pleasure as her pussy pushed air, queefing with every flex of Smoke’s thigh and push of his hips. Though neither said a word, the feeling, the sentiment was shared, and from the way they moaned and shuddered against one another, there was no doubt, no question, that they were thoroughly satisfied beyond measure.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Later that night, under the cloak of darkness and a thin stream of moonlight beaming through Annie’s open curtains. Annie was awoken by a weight at her back, and her leg was held in a tight grip at her side so that her mons was spread open. At her back, Smoke speared her booty hole with his cock, and she doubted her had used anything but his spit as lubrication. Spooning her, he moved purposefully, placing his knees on either side of her body and with determination, sheathing himself within her back passage.

Annie’s booty was still raw from the night prior, and the lack of adequate preparation combined with the near-malicious actions of Smoke made the pain that much worse, but at the same time, it seemed somewhat freeing. She whimpered, but didn’t tell him to stop or pause, happy for him to take his pleasure.

He was unconcerned with her discomfort, taking his sweet time in sliding his length through her body in steady strokes. He moved his hand underneath Annie’s neck so that she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder and neck and moved his hand from gripping her hip and reached over to toy with her throbbing clit. Calloused fingers pulled and tugged at it, grabbing up her folds in his hands and holding it tight so that it wept between his fingers and smacking it, the wet sound echoing in the night. It was primal, and she was brought back to her first life, and the way in which they made love in her shop that first time in seven years. That instinctual, ancestral plane of physicality, where they met soul to soul, where they had met time and time in many different ways and different lands, but this time, Smoke did not appear as a result of her ancestral power, but his own.

Rolling them both, so that Annie was on her stomach, he drove his length deep into her body aided by his body-weight, before pulling her onto all fours and fucking her like a dog. Purely animalistic, driven by instinct, by possession.

There was no question that this fuck was for him, the seeking of release at its most visceral and most passionate. He rough, and distantly, Annie was noting his somewhat lack of care, that he took none of the actions that she was accustomed to him doing for her pleasure, despite her never having vaginal sex in this body. Even Annie-Mae was stunned by the rough treatment; no one would typically treat an omega in such a manner, so rough and callous.

Like a man possessed, he grunted as he nibbled and gnawed on the back of her neck, his fingers pulled and tugged at her labia and at one moment he shoved his fingers, two, deep inside of her, pressing against her sore walls to feel his cock in her back passage. The embrace of her puss on his body seemed to put a bullet in his back as fucked her deeper and harder before stilling and Annie felt the wet within her.

He took a deep breath and a moment, before he peeled himself of her back, pulling out of her body, his penis ring catching on her rim as he removed himself and all the while she panted and tried to get her breath. Then she heard the bathroom door open, the stream of urine hitting the basin of the toilet and water running as she tried to gain back her bearings.

In their past life, Smoke had never conducted himself in such a manner. He’d never used her like that, some would have called it degrading, but she did not dislike it; it was freeing, liberating in a way that she could satisfy Smoke and his demons, exorcising him with her body.

When he appeared in the doorway, the screen shutting behind him, she looked up to meet his gaze, brown eyes staring into one another. There was no remorse in his body and he walked to her with measured, purposeful steps. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, as he breathed deeply before turning to look at her.

It was a darkness that Smoke had never allowed her to see before, had hidden from her even in their intimate moments. She’d loved this man in many different iterations and across many timelines, and as he leaned over and gave her a passionate, possessive kiss, melding his lips over her own and massaging his tongue against hers.

"I lov’ yuh, so fucking much, Annie." His voice was soft, but there was a dark edge in his tone that matched the lingering hard look on his face. "I know I should feel bad about fucking you like that, but truthfully I don't. Not one fucking bit. I worship you, protect you, respect you as the mother of my, our, chil’ren— and treat you like the goddess you are ninety-nine percent of the time. But,” he paused, heaving as though it was labourious to say such things to her. “If you offering ass, I’mma take it. I’mma fuck it. I’mma own it and use it when~ever the fuck I please. I may call you bitch, or slut, be disrespectful, but that’s because good girls don't do ass fuck. They don’t sell their ass. Good Black girls, the well-raised ones, the ones who grow up good, go to church and school and mind their manners. They don’t do them things there, that's why I never asked. But, now I see that you’se not a good girl.”

“A good girl doesn’t tease with her pussy and offer her ass instead, she don’t walk through the world trying to avoid being an Ohm.”

“You’se a woman. You my woman. My omega. My wife, and you deserve for me to be honest about the Afa that I am. I ain't gon’ hide who I am from you.” He turned to look deep into her eyes, “Now, I ain’t gon’ start spreadin’ my seed about town, or looking another omega and breakin’ your heart or our pack. That’s not me, baby.”

“I'm your alpha, your man, always and forever. But sometimes I just want to fuck. I want it nasty, downright dirty. I wanna spit in your mouth, eat your puss when your bleedin’, fuck you in your ass. I don't care if you buss a nut or not. If you're giving me your ass, I'm going to shove my dick in it and seed it. Fuck it whenev'er and however I want. That's what I do with asses. Your pussy is yours and you control that and while I may hav’ to beg for it occasionally, I ain’t hav’ no right to it. But you give your ass to me, I own that shit forever and I’mma take what’s mine."

His words were dark, but Annie couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but let her heart sing. Though he wasn’t the Delta-raised bootlegger who ran from the plantations to Chicago, who’d served in the Great War and stole lives with the same fervour he stole her heart, he was still Smoke, still Elijah Moore. Still her Elijah.

"That’s all right with me, Elijah."

“I love you, woman. Stars know, I love you, Annie”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lies had never tasted sweeter.

When Annie woke up again, Smoke was gone, a note resting in her PerCom about his whereabouts and a short apology, and she was grateful.

She felt off-kilter, and Annie-Mae was no better. Her second soul was near catatonic, unable to move past the pleasure of the previous night, but also the overwhelming feelings that Smoke had brought forth in her. It was one thing to have seen Annie’s memories and another to experience them, and it failed so much in comparison to Beau-Dallas that she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Couldn't imagine how it was. It was so heavy and uncomfortable, and she didn’t know how to cope.

Sitting up in her bed, her body sore, her heart racing and her mind in pieces, Annie had only one option, one that Annie-Mae could help her make.

She ran.

#smoke x annie #sinners #annie x smoke #annie x elijah #annie and smoke #sinners 2025 #sinners fic #smut #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #a/b/o verse #elias stack moore #elijah smoke moore #annie sinners #mary sinners #alternate universe #fanfiction #a glitch in time

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thehistoriccemetery · 2 years ago

Text

Companions with a Temporarily Blinded Reader

Featuring Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira

Listen I know this probably isn’t how curses work, but we’re just gonna suspend a bit of disbelief here. It’s what worked most conveniently with my idea.

After a rather tense and extensive battle, you are left cursed and unable to see. Luckily, the curse is temporary, but neither you nor your companions know that quite yet…

Shadowheart (and Isobel and Dame Aylin)

Shadowheart takes your face into her hands. The sheer terror on your face lets her know something is deeply wrong. Your eyes dart around, never meeting hers.

“Hey, look at me. You’re okay. Just focus on me,” she attempts to soothe you, but as your panic only escalates, she realizes. “You can’t see me.”

You shake your head frantically. You had hoped it was just a thick fog that would dissipate after your enemies fell. But, given that she can see you, this is clearly a different problem.

A quick investigation with her arcane knowledge tells her this is a curse, but she can’t decipher any more than that.

She asks Karlach if she could carry you back to the Elfsong, but opts for leading you herself when her request is met with a whine and squeeze of her wrist from you. You want her and no one else right now.

When you return to the Elfsong, Shadowheart gathers Isobel and Dame Aylin for a deeper look. If there was ever a situation where it was best to have three Selunites as your best friends, it was right now.

It was Isobel who discovered the nature of the curse. It would wear off in a couple of hours and your sight would be restored by morning.

Aylin insisted she carry you to bed, and you agreed under the condition Shadowheart would follow close behind.

When you all arrived in your room, Shadowheart sat on the bed next to you and you begged her to stay with you all night. She agreed without hesitation.

You even agreed to let Isobel come in at some points during the night to look over you and see how the curse was progressing.

You weren’t much able to sleep, but with Shadowheart gently caressing your back, you were able to calm down quite a bit.

Lae’zel

As soon as she realizes you can’t see, she throws you over her shoulders and carries you back to the inn.

You are deposited onto the ground in front of Shadowheart, who didn’t join today’s adventure.

Lae’zel leaves her with one instruction: “Fix them. Quickly.”

Lae’zel leaves the room before the curse is even discovered to be a temporary curse that will lift with time. You can hear her footsteps outside the room as she paces the hallways.

She comes in about 30 minutes later, asking if you had been cured. When Shadowheart explains the situation she scoffs and leaves again to continue her anxious pacing.

She continues to come in every 15-30 minutes asking if you are better yet. She eventually swaps out the pacing for sharping her weapons on the whetstone out front.

The entire inn complained of the never ending grinding noise that continued on all night. By the time your vision was properly restored, even Gale’s blunt quarterstaff was sharpen into a point.

Karlach

When Karlach finds you blinded and curled up in the middle of the empty battlefield, she really has to try and keep herself calm. She races over to you and kneels on the ground next to you.

You feel the heat radiating off her body before she speaks. “Karlach?” You reach your arms out towards the heat, terrified when you don’t reach far enough and find nothing more than air.

“Yes baby, it’s me, I’m here,” she stammers trying to keep herself from tears for your sake. She places her hands in yours and scrambles towards you. “Are you okay?” She asks, surprised to find no obvious wounds.

Tears pour from your eyes as you shake your head. “Karlach I can’t see you. I can’t see… I can’t…” you cry on the verge of full blown panic.

She pulls you into her arms, looking into your terrified eyes. Your arms flail around, tracing what you know to be her body. Each identifiable feature eases your mind ever so slightly. This is your Karlach, everything will be okay.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. We… we’re gonna get you home, okay?” she attempts to soothe you while keeping her own breath in check. “I’m gonna take care of you. I know you’re scared, but I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.”

You lay your head against her chest, listening to the clack of her engine. You wrap your hands around the straps of her armor, feeling like you might fly away if you don’t hold on tight.

When you arrive at the inn, Shadowheart, Halsin, and Gale are already in your room. They had already heard what happened and are ready to find a solution.

You hold her tight, and, in turn, she holds you tight against her chest. Even when Halsin motions for her to lay you down on the bed, she shakes her head and wraps an arm protectively around yours.

Halsin looks to Gale who shrugs and then to Shadowheart who also shrugs. “Very well,” he said finally. “I must take a look at them but you can hold them while I do so.”

Karlach sits down on the bed, keeping a close eye on Halsin as he looks you over.

“They have been cursed. Luckily, seeing that the caster is dead, the curse should fade with time. They will be back to normal by morning,” Halsin concludes.

Karlach smiles and kisses your face. “You hear that bub? By morning you’ll be right as rain.”

Still terrified, you keep your face buried against Karlach’s chest. But you mumble out a quick “thank you Halsin.”

“They’re likely still a bit… disoriented. I would tell you to keep them close, but I see you need no instruction on that,” he smiles softly. “We’ll give you some privacy.”

After they all leave, you sit up on Karlach’s lap. You trace her body, drawing lines between her vents, dragging your finger down the tip of her nose, feeling her horn all the way to the very tip. It makes you feel better, like the world isn’t so different from how you remember.

She spends the night letting you orient her and yourself in whichever way feels best for you. You end up asleep entirely on top of her, head still pressed against her glowing chest.

Minthara

Minthara has actually dealt with her fair share of blindings before, as blindness is a common side effect of poison.

Typically, such blindness is permanent, and is taken care of with a knife to the throat. It would be seen as disrespectful to keep the blinded alive with such an affliction.

But as she looks into your vulnerable, terrified eyes glazed over with cursed blindness and she can’t bring herself to even think about hurting you.

“Minthara?” You call out weakly. “Anyone? Is anyone there?” You fall to your knees. You have no idea how the battle ended or what is happening. Is anyone else still alive? Are you still alive?

“I am with you,” she says, gently reaching out to touch your chin. You grab at her arm, your only tie to any part of reality aside from the ground. Typically Minthara would lecture you for seeking so desperately for her contact, but she will allow it just this once.

She leads you back to the Elfsong, arm wrapped protectively around your side and one of her hands in yours. She’s gentle with her commands, gently pulling you around when it’s clear you’ve been overwhelmed with “left” and “right”s.

When you both get back, she allows the Selunites to look over you while she prepares your bed.

She is so relieved to learn it’s a temporary curse that would be gone by morning. She did not yet know what she would do if the affliction was permanent. She is glad she will never have to make the decision.

When she returns you to your bed, you realize it is full of all the softest and most comfortable linens Baldur’s Gate has to offer. She explains that normally such frivolous things would be unnecessary, but with one of your senses down she wanted to make sure you could find comfort in the sense you did have.

She sits next to you and holds your hand while you fall asleep, smiling softly as you wiggle around under the soft blankets.

Jaheira

Your chest rapidly heaves as you look around the battlefield and find yourself blinded. You wordlessly scream into the emptiness.

Jaheira approaches you, still in her beast form from combat. You feel as soft fur fades into her robes against your hands.

You cry out in relief when you hear her voice tell you the battle is over.

When you tell her you can’t see she recognizes the curse immediately, gently reassuring you that it will be lifted soon with time.

She wild shapes into an owlbear, beckoning you onto her back. You lie down against her with your arms out around her neck for support. You immediately begin to calm down, feeling grounded by the full body contact.

She gently wiggles you off her back when you arrive back at the inn, allowing her to return to her half-elf form.

She doesn’t spend the night pampering you, but everything you ask for, she does for you.

It helps you feel grounded when she touches you, so she pulls you into her lap and wraps her arms around you.

It helps when she talks to you so she spends the night reading to you and telling you stories until you fall asleep.

You ask her to sing to you, but she chuckles, and simply says “no.”

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thecubspeaks · 1 month ago

Note

Intimacy prompts:

1, 11 or 51 - you choose :)

a palm kiss (prompts here)

"She's like that with everyone."

"She is not," her father says, firm. "It troubles me, Isobel."

"It needn't." She puts aside her book, impatient for this conversation to be over, impatient to stop her father's inadvertent needling at a very sore spot in her heart. Dame Aylin is like that with everyone: grand and courtly. She's seen her kiss other ladies' hands just the way she kisses Isobel's in greeting, like a knight from a story. It's simply how Dame Aylin is. It's neither Dame Aylin nor Isobel's father's fault that Isobel is in love with her. But that doesn't mean she has to enjoy talking about it.

"You're being silly, Father," she says as she stands, in her most prim, dismissive, Young-Mistress-Thorm tone. "It's enough of an honour that Dame Aylin is here at all. I for one would never dare imagine we could be worthy of more."

And before her father can protest, she hurries out of the room.

A day or two later, staring idly out from her balcony, it is Dame Aylin who comes to her. Isobel hastens to bow, but Aylin stops her, as she always does--not, as she always does, with an elegantly raised hand, but rushing forward to catch Isobel by the elbows. It's as if a shock passes between them at the touch, and for a moment Isobel can only stare, and Aylin stares back--then backs away with a start, as if the very touch burned.

Well, Isobel thinks. And so it did, in a way. Even that brief touch kindled a heat that she can feel rising up into her cheeks. And elsewhere.

"My apologies, Mistress Thorm," Dame Aylin says, sweeping into a bow of her own. "I have come to make amends, and already I overstep."

"Amends?" Isobel echoes. "But you've done nothing wrong."

"That is not so," Dame Aylin says gravely. "Your father has spoken to me. Master Thorm has made it plain that I have misunderstood you. My manner towards you is unwelcome, my feelings unrequited." She bows again, and this time stays that way, head bowed. Anyone else, and Isobel might dare to think they were ashamed to meet her eye. "I can but beg your forgiveness, Mistress Thorm. I allowed my hope to blind me to the truth."

"Your hope? Your... feelings? Dame Aylin, I--" That heat rushes through her again--heat, and a dizzying joy. Relief, almost. She takes a stumbling step forward, to close the distance Dame Aylin made. "My Father had no right to say those things. He doesn't speak for me. Especially not to say things that aren't true."

Dame Aylin peeks up, still not quite lifting her head. "You-- you mean to say...?"

"I've done quite the opposite of you, I think." She laughs, breathless. "I didn't dare hope. So I didn't let myself see..."

Dame Aylin's head snaps up, but just as swiftly she drops to her knees. "Mistress Thorm. As the sword of my mother, I have never doubted I am beloved of her followers, just as I love them. But you-- never has my heart stirred as it does in your presence-- at your sight, at the sound of your voice. Mistress Thorm-- Isobel--"

For the first time she has ever seen it-- for what Isobel allows her to suspect may be the first time ever-- Dame Aylin's proud, ringing voice fails her. Eyes shining, fixed on Isobel's face with a look that has no other name except devotion-- and was she really looking at Isobel that way all this time? Did she really not see it?-- she extends a hand.

Giddiness has receded into a haze. Perhaps this is a dream, just her sleeping mind tormenting her in her state of pathetic pining. People must fall in love with Aylin everywhere she goes, there's no reason she of all people is the one who has actually brought the daughter of the Moonmaiden to her knees, here on a stone balcony in a little town of little consequence, on a greyish spring day that might threaten rain.

But there's only one way to know.

Carefully, almost trembling, Isobel places her hand in Aylin's.

Aylin seizes it, an almost convulsive enthusiasm, and Isobel can't hold back a brief gasp at the pinch of Aylin's gauntlets. Aylin's eyes go wide, but this time she doesn't pull away. She loosens her grip and, gentle as anything, turns over Isobel's hand, cradling it like some fragile, precious thing. Her pale lashes sweep downwards, and she lowers her lips to press them, cool and soft as moonlight, against Isobel's upturned palm.

#i needed some moon lesbians today idk #my fic #intimacy prompts #aylin x isobel #dame aylin #isobel thorm

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bluebayousblog · 1 year ago

Text

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 18)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Morning

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SEVENTEEN

Drew didn’t want to let go of Isobel, and he meant that in so many ways. When he was fourteen he laid eyes on her for the first time, and hadn’t expected to like her as much as he did—his entire family liked her. She was so shy with them all in the beginning, but he still managed to be enamored by the fraction of her she presented to his family within those first few weeks of them meeting. He knew she was special and it was easy for him to want to treat her as such because in his head doing that meant she would stick around, it meant she would open up around them.

When college came around they ended up at the same university, so he never had to consider parting ways with her in that regard, it was when she began dating Grayson that he experienced what it felt like for her to be slipping away from him. He didn’t register the feelings as jealousy, no it was more like a discomfort he felt about her being in a relationship. A discomfort that he chalked up as him being protective because that is what made sense to him at the time. He couldn’t stop her from dating, so he learned to live with it—learned how to share Isobel with another man who didn’t deserve her—until they broke up three years into their relationship. And though she returned to him heartbroken and not quite the same happy girl she was before he’ll always remember the relief he felt.

The last two years of college he spent probably annoying Isobel beyond lengths but that’s how he got his fix. He enjoyed walking her to class when he could, no matter how brief, it was always enough for him to see her face and hear her sweet voice. When weekends came he invited her to his parties because it was an excuse to have her around without having to worry about her wellbeing somewhere else. And at those parties he couldn’t help but give most if not all of his attention to her when he wasn’t entertaining some random girl. How could he not when she was in the same room as him, it was close to impossible for him to ignore Isobel’s presence.

Drew had been with so many women in his life, and never once had he felt that pull he did with Isobel after simply realizing he could be attracted to her. After years of knowing each other he’d kissed her once and had been overcome with the need to have her to all to himself. He’d always felt this way but having her in such an intimate way made it so much clearer. Being with Isobel created a fear within Drew because although he felt for her in the capacity that he did, it didn’t mean she felt the same way for him.

And just because Drew had fallen in love with Isobel didn’t mean she would ever fall in love with him.

Isobel let him hold her in his arms after he told her he loved her, she rolled over and hid her face in his chest instead of running away from his confession. He felt whole with her in his embrace, the way she relaxed with him made him feel like she would never leave him, so it scared him when he had to slip away to the bathroom to clean up and discard the condom. The mere thought of the bed being empty when he returned making him linger in the bathroom a little longer just to brace himself.

He eventually couldn’t help but go back to her, holding his breath as he approached his bed, and when he saw her body still resting there on his side of it, he exhaled.

“You took my spot, Izzy Bear.” Drew stated with a smile as he slipped himself under her body, and he melted when her soft hand ran up his stomach so she could wrap an arm around his torso.

She looked so adorable under him, her long hair framing her face, her soft skin bare, and her brown eyes warm with unspoken emotion that made his grip on her hip tighten, “Your spot was warmer than mine.”

He could only smile in response as their eyes remained locked, it felt completely different than before and they both knew it was because what had just transpired between them. Isobel hadn’t expected having sex with Drew to leave her feeling so needy. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like after, and now she was feeling so many confusing emotions all at once. She felt scared of his feelings—of her own—but she didn’t want to leave him. Isobel had already done that, and it only hurt them both. So she clung to him and silently thought of everything that had happened tonight. The unnecessary fighting followed by intense sex followed by his confession.

“You love me?” Isobel whispered with her lips moving against the arm her cheek was lying on, and she couldn’t ignore the twinge of hopefulness that was buried deep in her tone. Only someone who desperately wanted to hear the emotion could distinguish it beyond all of her layers she put forth, but she had a feeling her body knew Drew was exactly that—desperate for a part of her no matter how minuscule. She wanted to look away before he answered her, not in fear of him not saying yes, but the fear of simply looking him in the eyes as he answered her.

“Yes.”

Her face immediately heated at the short response that despite its conciseness had her heart pounding inside her chest, and despite her internal transgressions her eyes couldn’t help but find his blue ones. It was unbelievable how one or three words could mean so much—could make her feel so much. She’d once felt this way before with someone else, she’d also ran away from this feeling, but it still managed to find her and still knocked the breath out of her. She knew her cheeks were red when he swept his thumb across the warm skin of her face, “When did you realize it?”

It was like Isobel was in front of a mesmerizing flame she shouldn’t touch, but couldn’t help but stick her fingers through. Although, the closer she got to him, to the heat, the fire wasn’t so scary anymore—like it wasn’t even really a fire to begin with.

“Isobel, I think I have always loved you.” Drew settled on an answer after thinking it over. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but it also felt impossible for him to keep what he was thinking to himself. It was like when she gave herself to him he couldn’t hold in his feelings for her any longer.

And If he was being honest he couldn’t remember not loving Isobel. The time from when they were only family friends to when they hooked up for the first time felt like one convoluted memory of Drew falling for her without knowing it.

Isobel had no idea what to think, someone had fallen in love with her and he’d done it so easily—so effortlessly. And it melted all of her resolve considering the fact that he’d told her on a holiday she held so close to her heart. She was going to remember his devotion to her every Christmas thereafter.

“I don’t know what to say, Drew.” She shyly admitted, now looking away from his gaze. He just sounded so sure from the first ‘I love you’ as he dropped down on the mattress beside her after he rolled off of her, and it was his certitude along with his admission that stole the air from her chest.

She didn’t want to hurt him because of her own reservations, but she also hadn’t come to terms with her own feelings for Drew like he had for her. The last thing she wanted to do was compare what she had with him to her past relationship but her trauma made it hard to distinguish the two. Though, Isobel knew better because the way Drew made her feel wasn’t comparable to the man she had before. Even the way he told her he loved her was different, there was no flood of expectancy—he just wanted her to know but still she couldn’t help but wonder if her silence was disappointing him.

Because despite all of her fears, something that remained consistent for Isobel was that she believed his word.

“I don’t need you to know what to say, Isobel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.” Drew swallowed, wanting to do everything he could not to scare her anymore than he already had.

Isobel’s heart melted at his words, he was being so vulnerable and honest and it only made her want to tuck herself further into his arms, “You don’t have to apologize, Bear.”

He looked so handsome staring down at her with that same glimmer she always saw in his blue eyes, but now she knew exactly what he was feeling behind them. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned up to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, hoping it conveyed everything she couldn’t say because though she couldn’t articulate her feelings for Drew, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel anything at all.  They kissed slowly like time was infinite for them, reveling in the feeling of their lips against each other, and each slow peck eased her nerves. She felt how intentional he was with his kisses like her mouth was made for his own, like he’d found something he’d been always looking for, while Isobel just tightly held on.

Never did she think she’d be in Drew’s bed as he sensually kissed her lips after telling her he loved her on the early hours of Christmas morning. It was unimaginable at one point, but in the moment it made perfect sense. The feeling of his wet lips, the warmth from his body against her own, and the idea of Drew falling in love with her—for the most part.

Isobel suddenly pulled away and looked into his eyes, looking for the answers to the questions she was afraid to ask, the questions she thought may make her look weak in his head. She hated letting her insecurities show, but they would only continue to haunt her if she kept letting them choke her until she was rendered silent. It was easy for Isobel not to be a burden to her friends and family, but what she hadn’t realized was just how silent it made her that she became sort of nonexistent.

And for once she didn’t want to feel that way with Drew.

“You won’t get tired of me?” She quietly asked, forcing herself to keep their eyes connected as she waited for him to speak. Isobel could confidently say that was one of her biggest fears, someone getting tired of you loving them because she’d experienced it first hand. And though it came out like a question, it was more of a plea.

Drew’s eyebrows creased at her question. Not only because the possibility could cross her mind, but at how raw and vulnerable her voice sounded as he listened to her. It was crazy how you could spend an abundance of time with someone and not know how bruised they are, then they let you in and you don’t understand how you couldn’t have seen it all before.

“I could never get tired of you” he stated with emphasis like the thought was rudimentary, he said it with a gentle force like it was truly impossible, and he promised it to her with sincerity because he could never reach that point. He wanted from the depths of his being for her to understand that she had nothing to fear because Drew tiring of Isobel simply could not be.

Drew never thought he could ever be frustrated with Isobel until he fell in love with her. He was frustrated with her for things she couldn’t help, frustrated at things that happened to her, and frustrated that he he’d taken so agonizingly long to realize just how important she was to him that she’d found love in someone else and been burned because of it.

“You promise?” She gave him a gentle smile, but he saw right through it and he knew just how important it was to give her what she needed.

Reassurance.

God, he just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her entire body until she understood him and all the doubt in her mind was no more when she looked at him, touched him, and simply thought of him. But this was Isobel and while he did want so badly for her to trust what they had, there was also a part of him that wanted to see her slowly heal no matter how long it took because he was coming to find out, to truly know Isobel was to love her for the sides of her she allowed people to see while also loving the hidden parts of her that weren’t invisible—they were just barely on the surface.

“I promise, Izzy Bear.” He whispered and when she smiled, a real smile with her teeth on display just for him to see, the frustration he’d just been feeling felt so insignificant to the warmth currently inhabiting in his chest, “Give me a kiss.”

“I don’t think I heard you, Bear, can you say it a little firmer?” Isobel smirked.

She leaned her body on his chest and brought their mouths so close their lips brushed, barely keeping a slither of space between them. Her smirk grew into a full grin when she felt his arm wrap around her lower back and squeeze her upper thigh in his hand.

“I said give me a kiss, Isobel.” Drew looked unamused as he stared into her eyes while his hand wandered upward to rest on her ass.

Isobel didn’t listen as he repeated himself just as she asked, instead she moved her lips to his neck, running her mouth across the contours of it, his skin salty on her tongue. She couldn’t tell if the increase in his breathing was because her defiance was pissing him off or turning him on, but she didn’t mind either, “Hmmm I don’t think I feel like kissing you right now.”

“You always feel like kissing me.” He gritted through clenched teeth as she laid a full kiss on the center of his throat making her giggle. Isobel knew he was referring to just how pathetic her attempt was to keep things platonic between them for the holidays. How she’d cracked within days, no within minutes and hadn’t been able to keep her mouth off of him since. God, did she love having her lips on Drew.

Isobel chose not to respond as she continued to plant kisses down his neck and chest, every peck deliberate in her wake as she made her descent. She wanted to show Drew that she felt for him just as intensely as he did for her even if she couldn’t put it into words. This was the only way she thought to herself, atleast that’s how it worked for her in the past. Then Drew’s hand found her cheek and she froze before he pulled her back up his body so she was back where she began—chest to chest, nose to nose, and just slightly brushing his lips with her own.

“You don’t have to do that, Baby.” He mumbled as he pressed their foreheads together, staring into her brown eyes as if he was really trying to make sure she understood him, to remind her that he knew her.

Isobel’s eyes widened as she stared back in a sort of disorienting realization at the sincerity in his eyes and how she’d thought she’d loved before when really that hadn’t been what it was at all because what she was seeing in front of her in this moment was incomparable to anything she’d witnessed before.

“I want to kiss you.” She voiced her thoughts, it came out naturally like Drew was meant to know everything she was thinking.

“Then kiss me.” He barely finished before her lips were covering his in a gentle kiss.

One of his hands immediately found her jaw, squeezing her face as he pulled her further against his mouth. He could feel her as she immersed herself in the feeling of them being connected like she was wordlessly giving him another piece of herself that only he could interpret. Drew couldn’t help but release a deep groan at the intensity of it all, at how packed full of emotion this all was. His hands slipped down her jaw onto her throat before sliding to the back of her neck so he could bring her closer, desperate for all she was willing to give to him.

They kissed until they were out of breath, until Isobel was panting for him and desperate for his touch. His tongue massaged carefully into hers as he took his time tasting her. Her lips were starting to feel swollen and bruised but every time he released the pressure on her neck she kissed him deeper so his grip would return. She whined against his mouth when he disconnected their lips and looked up at the ceiling obviously drowning from his own arousal. She didn’t know where to go from here as she stared down at him, his eyes tightly shut and trying to control his breathing. Here she was in bed with a man who didn’t need her to prove herself to him, and she was completely and utterly lost in it all, “You’re making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.” Isobel whispered as low as she could and rested her chin on the warm skin of his chest .

His eyes remained closed, but when she felt the rumble of a groan travel up his throat she knew he’d heard her and she smiled.

Isobel then couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let her tell him she loved him with his eyes closed, but she knew that’s not how she would want it, she couldn’t imagine it that way. In her head, when she let herself hope, she would say it when she wasn’t afraid to look him in eyes as she gave him her heart.

But for now she’d whisper it in riddles with his waiting stare hidden behind his resting eyelids.

She fell asleep comfortably in his arms and woke up to Drew staring down at her that Christmas morning. They’d obviously switched positions during the night as she was now tucked into his warm body as his back shielded her body and he leaned on his side, putting all his weight on his right arm, “You always wake up at this exact time on Christmas Day.”

Isobel didn’t have to look at the time on her phone to know it was seven in the morning. Her parents were most likely awake and lounging around in the den downstairs while she was cuddled up with Drew in his bedroom instead of waking up in her own. In just thirty minutes they would be listening for her descent down the stairs because that’s how it went every year they spent Christmas together, but things were changing to her dismay.

“How do you know? You usually don’t wake up until breakfast is ready.” She poked his side and giggled when he jumped at the feeling.

Drew couldn’t help but smile at the years of memories from all their holidays spent together, “For some reason I always wake up the moment you walk past my door to the stairs.”

If she already wasn’t a puddle from how sweet he was to her last night, she would’ve melted further into the mattress.

“You sure you weren’t feeling me two years ago, Bear?” Isobel joked though they’d been spending holidays together in this cabin for far longer than two years. Meaning he’d been feeling for her for so much longer.

He wrapped both of his arms around her body so he could pull her into him, he was getting used to his days starting with Isobel’s, especially on one of her most cherished.

“What did I say to you last night, Is?” He breathed and brushed her bare hips with his hand.

‘Isobel, I think I have always loved you.’

The more she heard him say it the more she wanted to hear it, like a song you didn’t quite understand the first listen but as you absorb the melodies, the words, and meaning you can’t help but want to hear it on repeat.

When Drew saw Isobel bite her bottom lip as her dark eyes glazed over in thought he swore he felt his heart rate drop before it began pounding in his chest. He loved this about her, how her body betrayed her and revealed exactly what she was feeling. Drew just loved when her guard was down with him. His grip tightened on her hips as if it would slow down the thumping in his veins.

“I have to get dressed.” Isobel released her lip and pouted knowing her mom would come check on her if she didn’t come downstairs soon, especially since she played sick yesterday to avoid the man she was under at this very moment.

“Okay.” Drew could only watch in a trance as she slipped from under him. He was mesmerized watching her leave the bed and stand before him with nothing covering her body. His tongue swiftly poked out to wet his lips when she swiped her pajamas off the floor and began to slowly get dressed—knowing his greedy eyes were watching, “Come here Isobel.”

She was working on the first button of her top when he interrupted and she wasted no time before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed so she was facing him. When his big hands took over what she’d been doing, she let him as he buttoned up the silk pajama top just as slowly as she’d planned on doing. Although, with his fingers grazing and nudging the curve of her breasts as he made his way up to the last button it had a very different outcome.

“I’ll see you down there, baby.” Drew wiped his mouth with his thumb as he darkly glanced at her breasts through the red satin then back up to her pretty eyes. For some reason Isobel couldn’t help but grin in amusement at how boyish he was being, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was always that way in the morning.

“Maybe you should come downstairs a little earlier than usual?” She suggested and cursed to herself for not wearing any slippers when she decided to come here last night. When she got to the door she turned and gave him a soft look before having to go back to reality, a reality she wasn’t sure she wanted to maintain anymore.

“I’ll be right behind you, Isobel.”

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bullet-prooflove · 4 months ago

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Pray when she looks at herself in the mirror She sees a queen, she sees a goddess OR I don’t believe in God, but I believe that you’re my savior

Tagging: @kmc1989 @caffeinatedwoman @toasted-stiletto @district447 @stelacole

Companion piece to:

The Book Tour - You run into Sam while promoting your new book.

One Night In New York (NSFW) - You and Sam spend the night together in New York.

Six Months - Sam gets a surprise when he returns to Chicago.

Fate - You and Sam were always meant to find each other.

You look stunning in pregnancy. Seven months in and Sam can’t keep his hands or his mouth off you. It’s creating quite the problem this morning as he steps out of the shower because your standing in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a white maternity bra and panties.

“I look like a balloon.” You say, applying cocoa butter to your stretchmarks. Your body shape changing, you expected, this heinous little marks that are blossoming across your skin are something you didn’t plan for.

“You do not look like a balloon.” Sam protests, offended by the notion. He comes to stand behind you, his bare chest against your back as he cradles your stomach between his palms. “You look like a goddess, one who is bringing new life into the world.”

“Who knew you’d have such a breeding kink?” You murmur because you can already feel his enthusiasm straining against the white towel that’s slung low over his hips.

“It’s not a breeding kink.” He mumbles as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. “It’s a ‘my wife and I created something wonderful’ kink.”

“Ex-wife.” You remind him and he huffs because the term irks him even if it is just semantics.

“It’s bothering you huh?” He whispers, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he draws you closer, tucking you in against him.

“Being married to you, it’s important to me.” You tell him as you settle back against his chest. “It’s important to her too, I can feel it.”

“Ok then.” He says, his lips brushing over your temple. “Let’s do it. If that’s what my baby wants, that’s what she’ll get.”

“But what about what you want?” You say turning to face him. “I don’t want you to commit to me like that if it’s something you’re not ready for.”

“Elle honey.” Sam says taking your hands and guiding them around his neck. “We should never have got divorced in the first place. I wanted to take it back the moment I signed those papers. The two of us fixing that, nothing would make me happier.”

“Then let’s elope.” You say, raising up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Let’s disappear for the weekend and come back married.”

“That really will give my residents something to talk about.” Sam chuckles as he uses his body to walk you back towards the bed. “Do you still have your ring?”

“In my jewellery box.” You tell him as he sits you down on the edge of the bed. Your fingers hook on the slender silver chain around his throat, tugging him closer. “And obviously you still have yours. All we need is a couple of witnesses.”

“I can handle that, Dean and Isobel are always looking for something to do on the weekends.” Sam submits, his forehead coming to rest on yours. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yea Sam.” You smile as you look into your husband’s eyes. “We really are.”

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pastelwitchling · 2 months ago

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So... can I request a malex oneshot involving the manes brothers? Like just them being over protective about how touchy Michael is? Even thought they're married he gets death stares and throat clearing and "keep your hand where I can see them"

@brittz-2123

***

Michael had never been so uncomfortable in his life.

Go to dinner, Max had said.

Get to know your brothers-in-law, Isobel had said.

Screw them both. This was a nightmare, and Michael wanted to die.

When Alex had come home that evening, phone in hand, Michael had known something was wrong just by the look on his face.

“Hey, beautiful,” he’d said, having just finished with making them lunch. “What’s up?”

��Um,” he’d pursed his lips. “Greg’s inviting us over for dinner.”

Michael’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Great!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his brow still pinched. “Uh . . . Clay’s gonna be there.”

Michael’s smile had fallen. “Clay? As in, the oldest Clay? As in . . . big-guy-that-looks-too-much-like-Sargent-Dick-and-knocked-on-our-door-when-we-were-dating-to-interrogate-me-and-tell-me-he-was-doing-a-background-check-on-Max-and-Isobel-and-warn-me-that-I-better-be-careful-with-you-during-sex Clay?”

Alex had grimaced. “I’ll cancel.”

“No, no,” Michael had caught his hands and taken his phone. Because he was a stupid dumbass who’d only seen the hesitance on his husband’s face, known Alex wanted a night with his brothers as they all worked hard on mending the bridges between them and having the relationship they should’ve had before their father had pinned them against each other—and his brain immediately went into fix-it mode. Before their marriage, Michael had promised himself that when Alex wanted something—whenever and whatever Alex wanted—Michael would give it to him. And he had seen Alex want this dinner.

So here he was, sitting six feet away from his Alex and feeling ready to slaughter the whole freaking dining room. Why was he sitting so far away, one might ask?

Oh, that was because Clay Manes was insane.

See, Michael had spent so long separated from Alex, putting space between them when in actuality it had been the last thing either of them had wanted, that the second they’d started dating, he’d dropped the cool pretense and gotten used to sliding his chair right up against Alex’s so that their thighs were touching. Some part of them always had to be touching.

Except when they’d sat down, and Michael had instinctively moved his chair against Alex’s only for Clay to stare him down with a cold look that made Michael feel like he was molesting his own husband. The glower hadn’t faded until he was nearly outside of arm’s length from Alex.

Michael was not having fun.

And boy oh boy, was Flint making it worse.

“What,” he’d scoffed upon arriving to find them separated, “not sitting on his lap this time?”

Only for Clay to narrow his eyes at Michael and quietly demand, “You do that in public?”

“No, I—”

“With this town’s biggest homophobes wandering around?”

“I wouldn’t let—”

“Are you trying to get Alex hurt?”

“Never, he’s—"

“He doesn’t need that kind of attention.”

Michael had hoped Greg’s arrival would soften the night’s conversation, and for a moment, it looked like it would. Greg had given Alex a one-armed hug and ruffled his hair, and had rolled his eyes at the distance between him and Michael.

“Bro, c’mon,” he’d told Clay, “they’re married, stop making Guerin uncomfortable.”

To which Clay, without taking his eyes off Michael, had simply responded with, “So having respect for Alex’s personal space makes Guerin uncomfortable, does it?”

There was no winning with this guy. It should’ve uneased Michael how much Clay looked like Jesse—hell, it might’ve given him enough excuse to ignore his every word and sit on Alex’s lap like Flint had so joked about—but Clay’s concern for Alex was obviously so genuine that Michael found he wanted to prove himself. Even if the whole world posed a threat to Alex, Michael would protect him. No matter how many dangers he faced, Michael would not be one of them.

He was just about to tell Clay exactly that when Clay suddenly asked, “So, Michael. Alex tells us you’re a genius. Physics nut, right?”

Michael’s heart swelled with pride. He wouldn’t deny it was an ego boost to know that after everything he’d done, after all his foolish mistakes, Alex still thought he was clever.

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to sound too smug. “I mean, I’m pretty good.”

“But you never went to college,” Clay continued, and Michael’s ego punctured. “And you’re a mechanic?”

“W-Well,” Michael cleared his throat, momentarily faltering before he tried to salvage the conversation. “Yeah, no, I had some big plans when I was younger, but I ended up staying in Roswell. I don’t think I’ll ever actually leave this town for good.”

Clay hummed, and glanced at Alex. “Because you’re married.”

“That’s right,” Michael straightened. That’s it, he thought. Getting back on track, you tell that Clay Manes how much you love his brother. Keep going! “I stay where Alex stays.”

Alex smiled warmly, love in his eyes, and Michael felt twelve feet tall. Then Clay said—

“Are you saying my brother is holding you back?”

“I—” Michael lost his footing. “Uh, what?”

“You’re blaming him for your lack of ambition?” he tsked. “I don’t think I appreciate that.”

“No, I . . .” Michael looked around helplessly, but Greg looked like he was hiding a laugh in his mashed potatoes and Flint was nodding along as he speared a carrot, like Michael being a failure was no surprise to him. Alex had his lips pressed together, but his expression was closed off. If they were sitting closer, Michael would’ve reached under the table to hold his hand, a silent reassurance.

Right now though, he just kind of wanted to cry.

“I-I’m saying that I love Alex too much to ever be away from him!” he defended.

“You love him too much?” Clay narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a burden, is loving Alex supposed to be a burden to you, Michael?”

“No!” he gaped, and to Alex, “No.” Back to Clay, “No, what I’m saying is that I would rather die than live away from him!”

“So my brother is now responsible for your life,” he shook his head. “Do you have any idea how much pressure that is?”

“I—”

“Your codependency issues are forcing him to settle, and you’re proud of yourself for that?”

Forget kind of, Michael definitely wanted to cry. Blindly, he reached out despite the wide space and desperately grabbed for his husband’s hand, having to lean off the edge of his chair to do it.

“Clay,” Alex sighed, “knock it off already.”

“I’m just making sure Michael here is providing a safe and comforting home for my little brother," Clay said, narrowed eyes on Michael. “So far, I have concerns.”

“C’mon, bro,” Flint said, nudging him with his elbow, “leave him alone.”

Michael’s eyes widened—he couldn’t believe his ears; Flint was defending him?

“I mean,” Flint shrugged, “what’s the point? He’s too dense anyway. Don’t waste your breath.”

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” Michael growled.

“Interesting,” Clay remarked, rubbing his jaw. “Tell me, Michael, have you always had issues with aggression?”

Greg choked on a laugh, and Michael looked to Alex for help. Alex held up his free hand, his other currently being crushed between both of Michael’s.

“Clay,” Alex said, smiling tightly, “one more question, and my husband and I are leaving.”

Clay pursed his lips, seemingly displeased at not getting to interrogate Michael more, though the threat of Alex leaving with their relationship still as fragile as it was seemed to upset him more. He nodded once, stiffly, and the others ate in silence. Michael felt it more heavily than the interrogation.

He glanced at Alex, who was offering him a reassuring smile, and tried not to feel like the worst husband ever. He knew how contentious Alex’s relationship with his brothers was, he knew how long he’d been looking forward to tonight. He didn’t want to be the reason Alex didn’t get the family he deserved.

Setting his utensils down next to his untouched plate, Michael tapped his fingers on the table as he thought. Alex gave him a curious look, but Michael only said, “I’m not perfect. I didn’t always do right by Alex, and that time will haunt me until the day I die. All the things I said, the way I treated him . . .” he swallowed and looked to Alex, and offered a sad smile. “The time I wasted.”

Steeling himself, he met Clay’s hard gaze and felt very much like he was on the edge of a cliff. He took the leap. “I can’t take that time back. You don’t have to tell me that Alex can do a lot better than me, I already know it, but I will dedicate my life to being as close to perfect for him as I can because he deserves nothing less. I know that much, too.”

Clay stared. And stared and stared and stared. Then he looked to Alex and said, “Fine,” and went back to eating as though there’d been no interruption. Flint was rolling his eyes as he took a swig of his beer, and Greg gave him an approving smile.

Michael looked to Alex who looked back at him in the same he’d done when they were seventeen, and they had felt so much for each other that neither of them was able to put into words. Swallowing, he took the win no matter how small and scooted his chair closer to his husband’s, needing desperately to touch him.

“Don’t push it,” Clay said, and Michael scooted right back.

“Right,” he said, fully planning on clinging to Alex the second this dinner from hell was over.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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