#and god knows she’s needed it over her thirty five years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leclercss · 1 year ago

Text

Tainted Love, Part 1 (Charles Leclerc)

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: this is based on a story that i was writing in my spare time but thought it would be interesting to use Charles and a couple of other drivers as characters instead. so Charles is used as a character inspo rather than it including his life as an f1 driver. would love to hear your thoughts and if you'd be open for a part 2. i'm thinking of making this a longer fic.

word count: 4.8k

"[Y/N!]”

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"[Y/N]!" It's a little louder this time but still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when you get an elbow into your side and the champagne that's in your hand falls onto your lap that you finally snap out of it.

"Shit!' you squeal as you look down at the champagne that now soaks the bottom of your dress.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," the girl beside you laughs, "We've been trying to your attention for the last minute."

You look up at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can't remember her name. Was it Bethany? Stephanie? You didn't care, to be honest. It didn't really matter anyway; she wasn't your friend. You were only here as you were roped into pre-drinks before a girls' night out by your best friend, who was the only person you know here.

"It's fine, I was totally out of it," you mumble as you reach out for a napkin to dry the bottom of your dress.

"No shit," you hear a familiar voice say with a hint of smugness. You look across the table and see your best friend Whitney holding back a smirk. "You're on your fourth glass of champagne. I'd be out of it too if I was drinking as quickly as you've been".

You chuckle half-heartedly. Laughing it off as if it was the bottle of Moet that you mostly managed to get through on your own which caused you to be zoned out for so long. Not the fact that you’ve been replaying the arguments that you’ve been having with your husband over the last few weeks in your head. Nor the fact that you’ve been thinking about your shambles of a marriage.

As Whitney takes her attention off you to start cleaning up the mess, you let out a little sigh to yourself and go back to your previous thoughts.

How had your marriage gotten to this point?

You had been so in love with your husband when you first met. In fact, he’d been the only person you had ever been in love with. There was a ten-year age gap between the two of you but that hadn’t stopped you both falling for each other so quickly. He was one of the first people you had gotten to know when you first moved to London six years ago. You’d met on a night out about three months after moving to the city. The physical attraction was instant but that blossomed into something much deeper and within two years you had gotten married. He was your rock, your entire world. And maybe that was a bit of a risk for a girl, who at that point was in her early twenties, to depend on somebody so much and so quickly.

You had a few sceptics when it came to your relationship back in the early days. A few friends from back home had told you it was just a whirlwind romance with a hot older guy. Your mother had been unsure about the age gap. What would a girl in her early twenties need from a man in his early thirties? And what would a man in his early thirties need from a woman in her early twenties?

Your brother had joked that it was probably daddy issues.

You married him anyway. And the first two years of marriage had been bliss. Until about eighteen months ago when things had started to change. Your husband spent more time away from home (he said it was work related), the sex had become less regular (not by a lack of trying on your part) and you slowly started to feel like a spare part in your marriage.

You started to have a feeling that someone else was now involved in your marriage. And that feeling was unofficially confirmed to you when your husband had brought up the possibility of having an open relationship - basically, he could fuck whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) complain about it. You reluctantly agreed. You loved your husband, and you were willing to make this sacrifice if it means that you could start to repair your marriage. But you were so wrong.

Deep down you knew that you were never going to leave him. And your husband knew that too. Six months into your “open relationship” and your husband had been taking full advantage of the arrangement. Meanwhile, you took the opposite approach and hadn’t slept with anyone outside of your marriage. Despite that, your jealousy grew towards your husbands’ new partners and your loyalty was wearing thin. You had initially been quiet about your doubts when it came to your arrangement. But lately you had been more vocal to your husband about your feelings. Of course, he dismissed those feelings. That’s why you were arguing lately. He had told you that it was something you both needed in your marriage, you guys were too dependent on one other. You told him that you should be enough for him, you didn’t need other people to fill whatever void he was feeling. But you were beginning to realise that maybe you weren’t enough for him.

“Oi! Snap out of it. I’ve poured you another glass. But you better drink it quickly. And fix your dress because the Uber is getting here in ten minutes,” Whitney scolds as she shoves the champagne glass back into your hand.

“Thanks, Whit.” You can’t help but smile at her. Apart from your husband, Whitney had been your only other source of love and stability during your years in London. And that was why she had dragged you out tonight to pull you out of your recent misery.

“You know what you need? A girl’s night out! And before you roll your eyes and tell me how you’re officially too old for clubbing, we’re going out. You need to spend time with someone else other than him. And it’s been so long since you’ve been shitfaced,” is what Whitney had said when you had told her that you and your husband had been arguing more and more these days. You still hadn’t told her about the open marriage thing. She’d never forgive you for agreeing to it.

You flash her a smile before downing your last glass of champagne. Despite your hesitation, maybe a girls’ night out was what you needed.

“To getting shitfaced!” you yell before throwing the hard liquor down your throat. You try not to gag as you slam the empty shot glass down on the bar. Despite your previous doubts of this girl’s night out, you had been having a good time. It wasn’t your usual scene, but you had made an effort to join in and found yourself in a tipsy but playful mood.

“Come on, Stephanie has found a group of hot guys who’ve got a table,” Whitney shouts in your ear. You look at her and giggle, “Seriously?”

“Seriously! Now come on, I think they’re French.”

You allow yourself to be dragged over to the table where the other girls were mingling and flirting with a group of guys. You take a quick glance; they look about two or three years younger than you. Not your type (there was no harm in looking) but they were definitely good-looking.

“This is my friend Whitney, she’s single by the way. And this is her friend, [Y/N},” you hear Stephanie tell them. “But she’s married”.

One of the guys looks at you and lets out a laugh, “What a shame. Lucky guy”. You try to fake a smile at his remark, but your mind momentarily flashes back to your husband.

Rather than trying to come up with a response, you look around the table for something to drink. “Who’s up for some shots?” you ask before grabbing whatever alcohol you can find on the table. God, the hangover is going to be deadly tomorrow.

Just as you’re about to pour yourself something, you feel someone lean over to place a tray of Jager bombs on the table in front of you. “Did someone say shots?” he shouts before being met with a round of cheers. Before you have a chance to look up, the guy has sat down beside you. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “Weren’t you just doing tequila at the bar?” His breath is hot in your ear, his accent even hotter.

“Didn’t know there was a limit to how many shots a girl could have,” you tease, your playful mood apparent.

As you turn to face him, you’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Fuck, they’re gorgeous. He’s said something to you but you’re too busy staring into his eyes that’s you have no idea what he’s said to you. “Huh?”

You only break eye contact with him as you notice his eyes start to scan your face, most notably he’s looking at your lips before lowering his eyes towards your cleavage. His eyes stay there for a moment before he’s looking into your eyes again. A knot begins to tie in your stomach.

You feel yourself starting to blush at the intense eye contact when you see his mouth start to move again. You really have no clue what he’s said this time.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckles. He quickly scans your face again, smirk still intact, before leaning over to your ear once more. “I said, there’s no limit as long as it doesn’t stop me dancing with you later.”

As he leans back, you can’t help but admire his face. He has a light amount of facial hair, making his somewhat boyish face slightly more mature and handsome. You notice his dimples as he continues to smirk at you before taking a not-so-subtle glance at his lips. As you look back up at his eyes, you realised your staring is painfully obvious.

He leans over you and grabs two glasses from the tray of shots, handing you one. His eyes are back on yours again as he clinks his glass against yours, “Cheers!” You down the shot, wincing in the process before slamming the glass back on the table. “That was disgusting,” you groan before letting out a giggle.

You look back at the Frenchman who’s smiling at you. “Now I’ve gotten you a drink, are you going to tell me your name?” he asks. As he does so, he leans in slightly, so his face is a little closer to yours.

“It’s [Y/N],” you reply. “And yours?”

But before he has a chance to respond, the guy sitting behind your drinking companion leans over and chuckles, “Leave the girl alone, Charles. She’s married,” before turning back to his previous conversation. The beautiful man in front of you, who you’re assuming is Charles, looks back at you. “Married, huh?” He doesn’t look phased.

You nod. “And he’s not with you tonight?”

“No, it’s girls’ night. No husbands or boyfriends allowed,” you reply.

“And what other rules do you have on these girls’ nights?”

“Get as drunk as humanly possible with a group of hot guys.”

You’ve spent quite a while talking to Charles. He’s still flirting with you, lightly pushing the boundaries of “I know you’re married”. You’ve learned he’s from Monaco, not France. And he’s been living in London for about a year with a group of his friends from back home. He’s single (you’re not entirely sure how when he looks like that) and he’s better at handling his alcohol than you are.

You’ve spent a short amount of time getting to know some of his friends. His best friend Joris has been getting cosy with Whitney. You didn’t even get a chance to learn one guy’s name before he had started making out with Stephanie. The others you’re too drunk to remember they’re even here. However, your attention always falls back on Charles. And his attention always falls back on you.

You hadn’t even spared a thought about your husband until you saw your phone light up. First you notice your phone background, a picture of you and your husband kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower (and you’re aware that Charles is looking at your phone too). Then his name pops up on your screen. You glance at the message through your alcohol-blurred vision. It says something along the lines of how your night was going and if you were coming back home tonight. You roll eyes before swiping away the message.

“Husband?” Charles asks you. His finger has been tracing your knee for the last few minutes. You nod, trying to push the face of your husband to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, nothing important.”

Charles smiles at you. “How long have you two been married?”

“Four years, together for six.”

“Six years, you must have been late teens when you got together right?” you think it’s his attempt of saying you look good for your late twenties (as if that’s old). But it works on you momentarily, or it’s the fact that the finger tracing your leg has now turned into a hand.

“Well, I was twenty-one. He’s ten years older,” you tell him.

“And how’s that going? Is he okay with these girls’ nights out?”

You’re not sure why he’s quizzing you. It’s probably because of the face you pulled when you saw your husband’s name pop up on your screen. Or the fact that you haven’t mentioned him once all night. Most girls Charles has come across quickly name-drop their partner into conversations quite quickly if they aren’t interested but not you. Your body language has changed since the mention of your husband. And you’ve only been giving short answers when being questioned about him which tells Charles that your husband may be the reason you’re here tonight.

“He has his nights out, I have mine,” you lie before having a quick look around the table. “I’m not here to talk about married life.”

You momentarily look back to Charles who seems a bit taken back by your bluntness before looking back across at Whitney who’s no longer being occupied by Joris. “Whitney, can we go dancing?”

“Let’s do it!”

You stand up from your seat and look down at Charles. “I’m going to go dance. Whenever you want to do another shot come grab me,” you tell him before Whitney takes your arm and leads you to the dance floor. You feel a bit rude for ending your conversation with Charles so abruptly. But you weren’t here to spend the night talking about a man you’re trying to avoid.

Swaying your hips to the music and dancing with your best friend was exactly what you needed. The alcohol was well and truly coursing through your body at this point and it gave you the confidence you needed to feel sexy on the dancefloor. You weren’t a bad dancer by any means, but the numerous shots and glasses of champagne were a big help.

Whitney had reunited with Joris on the dancefloor, grinding and making out with one another. You didn’t mind dancing on your own. You were lost in the rhythm of the music, attracting some bystanders who you subtly moved away from when they got too close.

That was until you felt someone place their arm around your waist from behind. The hand felt familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it until you felt a mouth press against your ear. “You were looking a little lonely, thought I’d come and join you.”

You could get used to that voice whispering in your ear.

You look up at him and smile, “How thoughtful of you, Charles.” You were a little too drunk to care about the fact that his other hand found itself around your waist, pulling your body towards gently towards him. Mostly because you were enjoying it.

You felt his torso press against your back, and you leaned against his body as his hips joined yours in swaying to the music. As the both of you found your rhythm, you pressed your ass against his crotch and grinded a little harder on him. Truly letting yourself get lost in the moment with him. You think you hear Whitney cheer at the sight in front of her, but your only focus is on your movements against Charles. You feel one of his hands slide from your waist towards your ass, squeezing it a little before running it back up your waist to just below your breasts.

Fuck, that felt good.

You lean the back of your head against Charles’ chest and peer up at him through your lashes. He’s looking down at you and slowly moves his face towards yours, hips still moving in synchronisation. You look into his eyes, his attention fully on you before you take a quick glance at his lips. They’re slightly parted and if you didn’t have a slight nagging voice in the back of your head you totally would have kissed him. You’re suddenly nervous, you haven’t felt like this with a guy since you first met your husband. It’s new territory but it excites you. Is this why your husband wanted an open relationship? For the thrill and excitement of being so close and almost intimate with someone that wasn’t you?

Charles notices that you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts but wants your attention back on him. He lifts your chin with his thumb, so your face is closer to his and mimics your actions from a few moments ago – looking into your eyes before looking at your lips. You can feel his breath hitting your face and so you lick your lips. If he wants to kiss you, he’s going to have to make the first move.

He senses this and leans in; your parted lips meet his. You’re not sure if it’s nerves but it’s almost like you’ve forgotten how to kiss. The feeling of Charles’ lips against yours has caused all thoughts and logic to leave your body. You’re thankful that he takes the initiative once again and starts to move his lips against yours. You find your momentum again as your place one of your arms behind your head and place your hands on Charles’ cheek, your back still firmly pressed against his torso. As you continue to kiss, you notice that his crotch is still placed firmly against your ass, the bulge in his pants is slightly harder this time and it causes you to feel a slight tingle in your underwear.

As your kiss becomes more passionate, Charles turns you around so you’re face to face. He cups your cheeks with one of his hands, his thumb firmly under your chin and he reconnects your lips together. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth, and it begins to move against yours. The tingly sensation in your underwear is back again and it causes you to moan against Charles mouth. You can feel him smile against your lips, but it doesn’t stop him, it only encourages him to deepen this kiss even further. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room. Your body is tightly pressed against his, slowly tracing his chest with your fingers while Charles’ hands are covering as much body surface as possible. The hand that was cupping your cheek is now on your breast, his thumb grazing over the area where your nipple is. You’re not wearing a bra, so your nipple hardens at his touch, causing him to smile into your kiss once again. His other hand is very low on your back, his fingers spread across the top of your bum.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, it could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes but you don’t want to stop. One of your hands finds its way into his silky brown hair and you tug on it lightly. In retaliation, he squeezes one your bum cheeks. This time you’re the one smiling against his lips.

After what feels like an eternity, you both part from the kiss. Your eyes meet his and it feels like you’re in a trance with him. All you can do is just look at him, only him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing like this, your hands on his chests, his on your waist. Once again, it’s Charles that takes the initiative but this time in conversation.

He leans down to your ear, your body lightly pressed against his. “Do you want to come back with me tonight?” He leans his head back slightly to gage your reaction. You quickly lick your lips. Your body is telling you to say yes – the tingle in your underwear is only getting bigger. But your head is pounding and you’re not able to open your mouth. The only thing you can do is move and so you move one of your hands from his chest up to Charles’ cheek, your thumb slow soothing the soft skin beneath you.

He's still waiting for an answer. His green eyes staring into yours.

As you finally muster up the courage to speak you feel you feel a strange hand placed on your shoulder. You jump slightly at the sudden touch of contact which clearly isn’t from Charles and turn your head into the direction it came from. Stephanie, the queen of impeccable timing, is smiling at you. She’s saying something to you but you’re not really paying attention.

Only until she starts waving your phone in front of your face do you realise what she’s saying. You thank her before taking your phone and looking at the screen.

It’s your husband. Out of all the nights he could have given you attention, it had to be tonight. You quickly look at your phone and see a missed call accompanied by three or four more unread texts. From a quick glance, you see he’s a bit concerned that you hadn’t responded to his previous message telling him what time you’d been home. He’d never usually ask so it’s a bit baffling to you why he’d suddenly care now. Then again, it’s the first “girls’ night” you’d gone out to in about two years. And you remembered the arguments you guys had been having for the past few weeks and the way you stormed out of the flat this morning.

And what you didn’t realise is that he had seen you pack one of your more revealing dresses in anger when you told him you were going out with Whitney and a few of her girlfriends tonight.

He was worried. Not about you. But about what you might be doing.

“Is everything okay?” Charles voice brings you back to reality and you look up at him for the first time since Stephanie had given you your phone. You hope he hasn’t seen you gulp but he has. He notices a flicker of hesitation in your eyes.

You nod and smile at him, but he’s not convinced. Your husband’s messages have brought you back to reality and your body language has become closed off. You’re no longer touching Charles. He removes his hands from your waist and you’re both left standing there awkwardly on the dancefloor.

You open your mouth to say something but at first nothing comes out. You let out a deep breath before you finally allow yourself to speak, “I can’t. I’m… I’m married, Charles.” He breaks eye contact with you and place his hands into his jean pockets. He’s nodding but doesn’t really say anything.

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before you speak again, “I think I need to go. I’m sorry, Charles”. You lean up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. His posture softens a little bit, but he’s disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. It sounds a little deflated and you can’t help but feel guilty. Moments before Stephanie had handed you your phone, you would have easily said yes to anything Charles would have asked you but now you find yourself in a weird mindset. You’re curious and you want to know what going home with him feels like, but your husbands’ messages are now imprinted in your brain. And so, you take the easier option which is to go home to your husband and be the loyal wife you’ve talked yourself into being for the last eighteen months.

“Have a good night, Charles,” you say softly before flashing a sympathetic smile. You turn away to leave the dancefloor when you feel Charles’ hand wrap around your arm. He tugs you back towards him and grabs your phone out of your hand. He gestures for you to put in your pin, and you oblige. He takes your phone once again and taps away on the keyboard before handing your phone back to you. You look at your screen to see he’s put his number into your phone.

“For whenever you need another “girls’ night”,” he whispers into your ear before letting you leave.

You quickly search for Whitney to let her know that you’re leaving before ordering an Uber home. As you hug Whitney goodbye, she leans in and whispers, “I hope you had fun tonight. I won’t say anything”. And you know she’s referring to the kiss that you’ve shared with Charles not so long ago. You thank her before making your way out of the club and getting into the Uber which arrives a few minutes later.

You rest your head against the window as you the Uber takes you through the busy London streets. You can’t help but feel disappointed with how your night ended and your mind flashes back to the look on Charles’ face when you told him you were leaving. A part of you wishing you had stayed.

You let out a little sigh and shut your eyes, pushing the image of Charles and the feeling of his lips against yours to the back of your head before opening your eyes again. Your phone lights up, catching your attention and you see a text from Whitney asking if you had made it home yet. You scroll down a little further on your notifications to see the unread text messages and missed calls from your husband.

You unlock your phone and start to type up your replies.

The first text.

Whitney: Just in the Uber now, be home in 20 x

The second text.

Lewis ♥: Staying at Whitney’s tonight. I’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Love you xx

You close your conversation with your husband and click on the + icon to open a new message. You let out another sigh before you begin typing the message.

To Charles: Hey, it’s [Y/N]. We didn’t get to finish our dance, mind if I come to yours? X

Your thumb hovers over the send button. You’ve typed your message, now all you have to do is send the it. Shit! You’re such a coward. You tell yourself that if you count to five you’ll send the message. Okay…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Sent.

You quickly lock your phone out of embarrassment and throw it onto the seat beside you. Shit, why did you just do that? You refuse to look at your phone and tell yourself it was a dumb idea to message Charles. You just need to get home, get to bed and pretend like it never happened.

It’s about fifteen or so minutes later and you’re only a few streets away from your apartment. You’ve told yourself not to look at your phone but at the same time you’re curious to see if Charles has responded.

You pick up your phone quickly and see a couple of texts.

First from Whitney:

Text me when you’re in. Love you! Thanks so much for a great night xxx

Then from your husband:

Okay, text me if you need me to pick you up in the morning. Night, love you x

But it’s the third message that piques your interest the most. From Charles:

You changed your mind? We’re on the way home now. Here’s my address if you’re still up for it? X

You can’t help but smile to yourself. As the Uber driver pulls up outside of your apartment building, you look up towards your apartment window, the curtains are closed but a flicker of light is breaking out from the lamp on inside. Knowing Lewis is awake prompts you to make your next decision and you hand your phone to the Uber driver.

“Sorry, I need to go to this address instead”.

The Uber drive grunts at you but he begrudgingly types in the new address before pulling off. You can’t help but smile to yourself as he drives away from your building , and you let out a little giggle as excitement starts to course through your body. That tingly sensation is back as you type your next text:

Charles: I’m on my way x

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you

2K notes · View notes

verbenaa · 12 days ago

Text

to eden | chapter nine

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F! Tav 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 11.1k 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: blowjobs 😎; canon-compliant, non-graphic mentions of SA 😔 (Astarion 😭)

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Do you trust me, Astarion?” Rin asks. She’s waited patiently enough for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, she can easily manage another minute for a proper answer from him first.

He shivers just slightly under her touch as her hands still, and Astarion averts his eyes from hers for a moment before huffing a breath and returning her gaze.

“Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to.” The bite in his words is softened by their meaning, his swallow audible as he stares down at her, a veiled vulnerability shining in his eyes as they run over the planes of her face.

𝒶/𝓃: hello!!!!! apologies it took me so long to get this chapter completed. But it is finally done and I very much hope you enjoy it. Here's to chapter 10 taking me half the time to write as this one did. please let me know your thoughts down in the comments and I appreciate you all!!!

read on ao3 | masterlist

“Are you even listening to me?”

Rin blocks out the sound of Astarion, positively incensed about absolutely nothing of consequence, as he follows her around the grounds of the Last Light Inn, complaining rather loudly for her tastes.

She sighs as she trudges down one of the dirt paths leading away from the inn and back towards their camp, the area thankfully empty as he strides just behind her at a clipped pace.

“I stopped listening about five minutes ago, Astarion, when you decided to keep saying the same thing over and over again,” Rin says, annoyance sneaking into her words as she cuts a look back towards the angry vampire somehow managing to stomp elegantly after her.

“I’ll stop saying it over and over again when you realize that I am right.”

Gods, he could be so irritating.

While their encounter with Ketheric Thorm went surprisingly well and no one dared to second guess them in their ruse of pretending to be True Souls, Rin still felt somewhat unmoored by it all. The plot was thickening with a quickness and intensity she didn’t care for; something that was only growing more and more sinister brewing just beneath the surface, and she isn’t looking forward to figuring out whatever that something might be.

There’s a very large part of her the longs to run—to simply disappear into the darkness and never return; to sprint away from all of this madness, the constant battles, the sharp malice of it all.

Her life may not have accumulated to very much back in Baldur’s Gate—little money, the occasional performance at a shitty tavern, the more-than-occasional odd job for the Guild—but at the very least it was predicable in its unpredictability.

Sure, she didn’t always have the money that she quite desperately needed, but she always knew to expect the possibility of not having it. She always knew how to sweet talk her way into getting more time to pay her debts, how to charm the baker into giving her an extra roll or two, or when times were particularly tough, how to steal what she needed to without even getting caught (most of the time).

They were skills she had honed over a lifetime of living on the streets and in the murky shadows of the Lower City, things that she had worked hard to perfect to the best of her ability in order to survive. If there was one thing Rin knew, it was how to work to the system.

Thirty-four years in and she’s yet to meet a magistrate while draped in chains, so she must be doing something right.

But the only thing she can dare to expect these days is the unexpected.

And Rin is not a fan of unexpected things—unless said things happen to be a nice bottle of wine or a fancy necklace; though as far as she can remember, no one has ever gifted her much of anything.

“What exactly did you want me to do, Astarion?”

“We should have stayed longer,” he hisses towards her, eyes narrowed and lip curled menacingly. “There was more information we could have dug out. There were merchants we could have bought more weapons and potions from. There were plenty of things we could have done, and yet you had us running away scared. You even let those goblins fight for their lives instead of just killing them outright. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Clearly, she doesn’t see the issue the same as Astarion, because she couldn’t find a single problem with the plan. It was the sane, normal thing to do after such a covert operation. They were a rag-tag group of adventurers, not spies.

They had maintained their cover, eventually killed the goblins, talked to the decidedly awful Disciple Z’rell, and then got the hells out of there as fast as they could.

The memory of Z’rell searching through her mind draws a minute shiver to her form, the sensation of another tadpole clawing through her brain with a wave of energy and touching on the darker things she keeps hidden in the depths of her thoughts—old memories that were purposely forgotten, hopes that she had long given up on having, disappointments that had been left to languish in the corners like dusty cobwebs—had been very unwelcome, to say the least.

She hadn’t been expecting to have to defend herself against Z’rell’s invasion, and she hated having to use her desire for Astarion as a distraction, even it if had worked.

It had left her feeling as though she had been stripped bare, like some raw part of her had been left exposed to salt.

She didn’t dare to show Z’rell any of the truly illicit memories, for the half-orc certainly didn’t deserve to see Astarion in such a way and Rin was not about to put his body on display for her, even within the relative safety of her own mind or for the sake of the mission.

Thankfully, she had plenty of other memories to use to showcase her more…amorous feelings about him.

The memory of him crowding her up against a cave wall, the feeling of his lips on her neck as he kissed it seconds before biting in, his lips claiming hers for the first time in the forest clearing what feels like forever ago, his fingers removing her armor piece by piece in the Underdark as heat had begun to curl in her belly…she could, theoretically, probably go on for forever.

Rin breathes out a frustrated breath, attempting to steady herself as she turns around to face Astarion with little thought, and he pulls up short to avoid running into her, stopping right before they collide.

“Here’s the thing. You are not in charge because you did not want to be, and so now I am. And as such, I made a decision to leave, and so we did. If you don’t like it, Astarion, then by all means, go march your way back to Moonrise and have a look around, if you’d like.”

Rin is careful to annunciate her every word as her finger pokes in the center of his chest, eyes steely as she glares up at him.

“But,” she continues, “in the event that you decide to not trot off back to that hellish place, can you please tell me how to possibly shut you up now? Because as much as I honor and appreciate your opinion, I am tiring of hearing it.”

Astarion casts a slow look down at the finger resting innocuously against him before dragging his gaze back up to hers, brow raised alongside the casual arrogance painted on his face.

Rin knows she couldn’t look any less threatening—camp clothes slightly wrinkled from where she had pulled them on hurriedly after bathing, her hair still slightly damp, and at least a full head shorter than Astarion.

Anger has never been her strong suit, she’s far better at using the written word as a weapon than she is at yelling, and she realizes she probably has all the intimidation of a hissing cat rather than something terrifyingly ferocious and beautiful.

At the very least, the letter she writes him later tonight will be properly vicious—or at least her version of it. She’s not sure she’s capable of the raw rage of someone like Karlach or the steel-sharpened vitriol of Lae’zel, but she can at least use several choice adjectives to describe him that she has no doubt will irritate him.

“Well, if you don’t want to hear it then you shouldn’t make stupid decisions,” Astarion says through gritted teeth, claret eyes glaring down at her. “and if you want to shut me up, you’re going to have to make me.”

“‘Make you’? How old are you, ten?” She presses her finger into his chest harder as her patience thins, biting down on her lip hard in failed attempt to take a calming breath.

Her heart is still pounding in her chest even after a relatively relaxing bath, and Astarion yelling at her about it does not help one bit. She aches to wipe the smirk off his lips as her eyes dart down to them, the way they curve up into a maddening off-kilter smile one that burns itself into her memory.

The traitorous part of her mind, the one that won’t disappear no matter how hard she tries to banish it and instead only serves to grow stronger as if to spite her, taunts her to kiss him if she really wants to shut him up.

No better way to rid his mouth of that self-righteous smirk than by giving his lips something better to do instead, after all.

She had thought after that night, the one where he had so coldly thrown her out while still in the haze of their shared pleasure, that whatever it was that had been growing between them would be no more. It had seemed, at the time at least, that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Instead, Astarion had shown up every night since at her tent.

And every single night, he’d ruined her.

It had become their new routine, apparently. Every night they start by the fire as they always do—talking, drinking, divulging secrets in one another; and then afterwards, he follows her back to her tent, sets her alight with his touch, only to leave when he’s done with her.

They make something that Rin thinks must be akin to love; although she’s never really made love with anyone else before, so what does she know?

Perhaps he simply fucks everyone like the way he does her.

The Traitor in her mind is quick to point out the falsehood that statement, reminding her that he didn’t lay with her at first like he does now. At first, there had been no mistaking what they were doing—it was sex, pure and simple, between two people indulging in a mutual curiosity and need.

Looking back, it feels like Astarion had barely even enjoyed their first few liaisons together, his actions mostly halfhearted and his mind barely present.

Now, though, there’s a marked difference in the press of lips, each and every one meaningful and every caress upon her skin intentional during the house they spend lost in one another.

She could no longer call it just sex, at least by her standards.

Rin didn’t know what to think.

And how could she know, when he comes to her and sends her into complete bliss with a touch that only seems to grow more reverent with every passing night, the look in his eyes when they twine together that of a fire only growing as if being fed by more and more fuel.

But no matter how rough or how gentle he handles her—his touch somehow both softer and more intense with each night that passes, no matter how passionate or sweet the presses of his lips are against hers are as they find their completion together—he never stays.

Astarion’s interests, it seemed, were only in her physical attributes.

She shouldn’t be surprised, in the end. She was nothing more than a half-rate bard whose skills amounted to little of importance, so she can’t quite blame him for not being interested in the rest of her.

She was no sagely wizard like Gale nor a noble warlock like Wyll. She patroned no cause like Shadowheart or Lae’zel, no matter how questionable Rin finds their worship and ideals.

She has no greater calling, no reason to be; neither a paragon of good nor an avatar of evil.

She simply exists, day to day, in whatever way she can make it through.

Perhaps if she were someone greater, someone of skill or importance, someone of knowledge; he would want her for more than just nights of shared passion.

The thought rankles something in her, though it shouldn’t. People like her weren’t meant for much more, and she’s never done anything to be worthy of things like tenderness, affection, or love.

If she were, then surely everyone else wouldn’t have left her. She wouldn’t have been abandoned if she’d been worth it.

Rin has nothing more to offer anyone but simply who she is—and who she is has never, ever been enough for anyone to ever take a chance on.

She’ll just have to make do with what she gets when it comes to Astarion, though he’ll no doubt leave her like all the rest when he’s had his fill of her.

But in the meantime, she’d rather have him in whatever way she can—in whatever way he will let her have him—than not get have him at all.

And so she gives in to that traitorous part of her brain, the one still whispering of all the ways she can distract him, of the limited chances she has to revel in his closeness, and makes her move.

“You know what, fine. You want me to shut you up? I’d love the honor.”

Rin flattens her hand against his chest and pushes before taking a step forward into his space. Astarion glances down at her hand once before gracing her with a very skeptically raised brow.

Slowly, Rin steps forward again and Astarion steps back; one step followed by another and then another as they walk backwards until his back hits the stone of the wall behind them, dirt and chipped rock crumbling onto the ground next to them.

“Many have tried, most have failed.” He’s devastatingly handsome with such a devious smile, and she almost hates the way it makes anticipation startle to life in her chest. Almost.

Rin keeps her hand where it is as a small smirk of her own forms on her lips. “Most have not been me.”

“Do tell, little bard, what is to be your perfect strategy, hm?” He’s teasing and taunting her again as his head leans down towards hers, eyes narrowed in challenge.

She’s not quire sure what sparks the idea in her head; but she blames it on her ever-evolving and only growing adoration of him—slightly painful to admit, despite being very, very true.

Regardless of whatever the reason is, she takes her chance.

No time like the present, they say.

“Maybe I don’t need to shut you up so much as I want to hear you say something else instead,” And for the first time, it’s her own register that drops, words hushed as her cheeks flush despite herself.

Astarion is quick to catch on, a knowing glint sparking to life in his eyes as he gleans something in her own gaze. In an instant, Rin feels an arm come to circle around her waist, dragging her closer to him until they’re flush together.

“And what is it that you have in mind, darling?” Her skin tingles where his hand rests upon her lower back, thumb brushing teasing strokes that send her mind swirling with a rush of delight at his touch.

Rin runs her hand up, drawing it across the expanse of his chest with enough pressure to make sure that he can feel the drag of it until it finds its home around his neck, her fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

She stays silent in the wake of his query, answering with only an innocent quirk of her lips before giving the path they’re standing on a quick, covert glance. She can see or hear no other being near them and, so long as they’re quick about it, she doubts anyone else will be coming this way.

Hopefully.

“I must say, I’m intrigued. Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?”

“I guess it depends on what you think I plan to do.” She flicks her gaze back to his.

“I think that you want to—” Astarion’s voice cuts off and the smirk falls from his lips as Rin slides the hand from around his neck down his front and she lowers with it.

Rin looks up at him from under lowered lashes as her knees hit the dusty earth below her with a soft thump and she runs her hands up and down his thighs in teasing passes, thumbs pressing into the muscles of them intently.

He looks momentarily bewildered at the sight of her before him, expression going slack as his brows knit in surprise. Clearly, of all the things he expected of her, dropping to her knees on a decently well-trodden pathway wasn’t one of them.

For all the times he’s tasted her, Astarion’s yet to give her the same opportunity and she has plans to fix such a terrible discrepancy. He has no idea how long she’s waited to worship him like this—to touch and taste and learn his body as well as he’s studied her own.

She wishes that she had more time to make such an important scholarly pursuit, and the privacy of one of their tents would be vastly preferable, but Rin was nothing if not adaptable.

“Do you trust me, Astarion?” Rin asks. She’s waited patiently enough for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, she can easily manage another minute for a proper answer from him first.

He shivers just slightly under her touch as her hands still, and Astarion averts his eyes from hers for a moment before huffing a breath and returning her gaze.

He’s flustered, and it’s an absolute wonder to see.

Her cheeks flush and her heart swells, despite that fact that she is technically still mad at him. Or at least she’s supposed to be.

She can’t feel her agitation quite as keenly as she could a few minutes ago.

Rin had lowered herself onto her knees for only a few people in her lifetime, the act one she couldn’t say she had the most practice at. Men were always so typical, shoving themselves into her mouth without care until they reached their end; it was no wonder she rarely offered herself up in such a manner.

But, Astarion—Astarion she knows will be different.

“I can’t promise to be the best you’ve ever had, but—”

“Don’t sell yourself so short.” Astarion cuts her off, his hand coming down to trace her jaw lightly as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

Rin leans her head slightly into his hand as it runs along the line of her face, turning slightly to press her lips against his fingers. “Is this alright, then? Will you let me suck your cock?”

Astarion’s thumb brushes along the plush of her lower lip, and she takes the opportunity to open her mouth and nip at it playfully.

“Do you think you can take it, darling?” His eyes darken as her lips encircle the tip of his finger and she sucks, Rin relishing the almost imperceptible intake of his breath.

“I guess we’ll just have to see what I can handle.”

“Well. By all means, then. Have at it,” Astarion says, eyebrows raising in smug challenge.

At his permission Rin’s hands jump to life, fingertips tracing up his covered thighs to hook into the waistband of his pants. She keeps her eyes on his as she slowly pulls them down, revealing his hardening length still hidden behind his underwear.

She leans in to press kisses to the defined line of muscles along his hips, nosing his shirt out of the way as she runs her lips over the indentations of each and every one of them as she slowly traces her way down, moving ever closer to where his member twitches with every press of her lips.

“I must say, our pretty little leader on her knees is quite a sight.” The words are meant to be easy, teasing; but the tightness in his voice belies any ease, his hips jumping as she traces her lips over the silhouette of him through his underwear.

Astarion chokes back a moan at the feeling and she smiles up at him, fingers playing at the edge of the final barrier between them before she begins to pull. Her fingers find his length once she’s freed it from his underwear, quick to run them down the velvet softness of his shaft as the deep green of her gaze meets the darkened ruby of his own once more.

“Only for you, Astarion.” Rin cuts off anything further he could have to say by leaning her head forward to press a searing kiss to the side of his erection before tracing her lips over his length.

The first touch of her mouth against his cock has him exhaling sharply, one of the hands at his side coming up reflexively to rest atop top her head, fingers sliding through her curls as his hips jump.

She wastes no time as she licks a line across his slit, the heady saltiness of him hitting her tongue as she brings a hand up to grip him at the base, pumping him gently in her palm.

“Does it feel good like this?” Rin swirls her tongue around the head of him, savoring her first real taste of his essence. “You’ll have to let me know how you like it, Astarion.”

His hand curls in her hair, brushing stray locks back from her face as he watches her mouth move along his length, tongue slicking across a vein before she finally wraps her lips around him.

“I assure you, you’re already doing a very, very good job.” He sags back against the crumbling stone facade of the wall as Rin takes him deeper into the warmth of her mouth, her hand pumping at the base of him as her lips work the rest that she doesn’t yet fit inside.

His praise sends a trail of heat straight to the core of her, pleasure of her own ebbing deep in her stomach as her thighs rub together. She leaves his length for no more than a second, adjusting her position on her knees before pressing more kisses to the side of him. “And this?”

Astarion moans as her lips envelop him once more, sucking at his cock with hollowed cheeks as she takes him in, her hand moving in time with her mouth as she begins to bob her head.

“Decidedly perfect technique,” He’s practically breathless as he speaks, eyes closing as his head falls back against the wall behind him with a dull thud.

His moans echo off the ancient stone as she sucks and licks and kisses his cock, pouring every ounce of her wayward affection for him into this moment.

Astarion, she’s learned, doesn’t give up his iron-clad self control very easily; and Rin’s not going to let herself think about what it means that he trusts her enough to let her take care of him, even if it’s only like this.

It’s intoxicating to have him so utterly undone as she alternates her ministrations, each and every one only serving to push him further and further to the brink as she laves at his length, pleasure flitting openly across his handsome face.

She should tell him to be quieter, but she doesn’t have it in her to halt those beautiful moans and breathy gasps leaving his mouth, not when she revels in the sound of them far too much.

Rin pops off him to take a breath, tongue running around the crown of him before she renews her attentions, swallowing him down deeper and taking as much of him as she can fit into her mouth.

Dots of crystalline tears settle on her lashes as the head of him brushes against the back of her throat, but the ragged moan he releases is more than worth it, another bolt of heat surging down to the place between her legs.

She’s lucky she cares nothing for her reputation, because being found on her knees in front of her most dubious companion with his cock shoved deep down her throat would most certainly ruin it.

“Such pretty noises you make, Astarion,” She hums as she pops off his cock, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his length as she breathes in another lungful of air. “Please don’t stop making them.”

The hands in her hair tighten as her mouth envelops the head of his length again and he whines, Rin once again savoring the tang of him as she sucks before taking him back into her mouth, deep again as he slides against her tongue.

“Fuck, darling—” She breaths through her nose as his thighs quiver, making sure to keep her mouth moving back and forth on his cock. “Don’t stop. Rin, sweetheart, I’m going to—”

Sweetheart. It was a new one from him, one that she finds that she likes.

Quite a lot.

He breaks off as Rin hollows her cheeks once more around him just as his cock hits the back of her throat again, stray tears breaking free to run down her cheeks and she can barely breathe with him like this in her mouth but can’t seem to find it in her to care.

The thrill of finally being able to taste him and to bring him to the edge of pleasure is one she knows she would do anything to feel again, the weight of his cock nothing short of exquisite in her mouth.

She gives him a final suck and Astarion comes down her throat with a wanton moan, hips bucking as his brows crease and he cries out his completion, the sounds of his ecstasy nothing short of beautiful as they ring off the rock and stone and dirt around them.

Rin swallows his come down as his body quivers and his hips rut into her, the hands in her hair tightening into a vice grip as he rides her mouth.

He tastes as perfect as she knew he would as words fall from his lips in a torrent—a chorus of praise, moans, and the occasional elvish word or phrase she doesn’t understand all flowing freely from his lips.

Rin lets him ride out his orgasm however long he pleases, a deep satisfaction coursing through her as she watches the pleasure painted across his features until his hips begin to slow and air he doesn’t need finally begins to return to his lungs.

“Dear Gods—” Astarion groans as his eyes open as the hands in her hair loosen and he stares down at her, one of them migrating down from her curls to her cheeks, softly brushing away the tears that have tracked down the planes of her face.

She pulls off his softening cock slowly, taking in a much needed breath of air.

“Do you still question my decision making skills?” Rin licks off a stray drop of his come from her bottom lip before she smiles.

“Absolutely; and if this is the treatment I’m going to get every time I do, then I think I’ll have to disagree with you more often.” Astarion’s still catching his breath as he replies, but it doesn’t stop a wolfish grin from spreading across his face.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Astarion.” Rin gently tucks him back into his pants, patting his hip with a smirk before she rises back up to her full height, knees aching slightly with the motion. “If I did that every time we had a disagreement, I’m not sure I would have much time to do anything else.”

Astarion has an arm wrapped back around her waist in a mere moment and she’s pulled close again, the one hand still in her hair curving around the back of her head to tilt her face up to his own.

“Then maybe you should try to be less difficult, dearest.” His hand runs down, caressing the curve of her bottom before sweeping back up and around to hover at the front of her pants.

His touch sends a spark of heat down to her neglected arousal, Rin taking a steadying breath as she braces her hands on his chest. “If I were less difficult, you would be bored.”

Astarion chuckles as his fingertips dip below her waistband, more heat curling deep in her core as they quickly slip beneath the band of her underwear, intent to find the wetness that has settled between her thighs.

He wastes no time gliding them through her folds, running them up and down her center as Rin gasps, Astarion’s eyes intent on hers as he slicks his fingers with her arousal before finding her entrance and sinking two of them inside her with ease.

“I see I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself,” Astarion groans at the evidence of her own lust he finds waiting, pushing his fingers deeper.

“Far from it, Astarion.” She moans as her head falls forward onto his shoulder, eyes drifting shut as he curls them once, twice; her limbs tightening as he seats them fully inside her.

It would be so easy to let Astarion bring her to brink and push her over into euphoria, no doubt only a few quirks of his fingers and she’d be gone, clinging to him with every ounce of her strength as he makes her come.

But she doesn’t want it to be about her. Not right now.

Despite the breath that rushes free and the soft whine she lets out as Astarion pumps the fingers he has buried in her, the desire almost painfully hot in her core; Rin reaches one of her hands down to grasp his wrist, pulling his hand away from where she wants him most.

She’ll take care of herself later. She certainly has plenty of material to think about.

Astarion sends her a questioning look as he slips his fingers out of her, Rin’s hand still on his as she guides him out of her leggings. “Is there a problem, sweet? Need something else inside of you instead?”

Rin huffs a soft laugh as she intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing his hand. She fears that her expression is entirely too open as she looks up at him and her lips quirk into a smile, but it’s too late for her to take it back so she commits to it, letting a tiny bit of the feeling that’s been growing inside her show on her features.

“I just—it doesn’t always need to be about me. Take your pleasure and enjoy it. You don’t owe me one back, or anything silly like that.”

Astarion stares at her as his expression clouds with confusion, but the hand in hers doesn’t weaken, his grip still strong and sure.

Rin stands up on her tiptoes, lips seeking his cheek as she bestows a light kiss upon it before whispering, “Thank you, Astarion, for letting me give you something for once. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She steals her hand back, the slide of his skin against her own slow as she takes a step away from him, sending a little wave his way before she turns and walks back towards camp, leaving Astarion to stare perplexed at her retreating form.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Astarion sits perched on his favorite rock in camp, handsome and brooding, no doubt the perfect portrait of a mercurial and mysterious vampire to anyone with eyes who chose to look his way.

Or he would be, if anybody in this damn camp would pay any attention to him.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff as he directs his gaze towards the small group of idiots that are now his companions; a preposterous notion that he even considers them to be such.

They make their merry by the fire, passing around a bottle of what is clearly a very strong whiskey if the faces they pull after taking swigs of it are anything to go by.

He can imagine the smell of it, smokey and stout, and is very glad to have a goblet of wine beside him instead.

Whiskey was all fine and good and certainly had its uses, but it lacked the elegance of a fine wine; no whiskey ever as smooth on its own as a delectable vintage feels gliding over his tongue and down.

It’s a chilling thought that he’s been in such close contact with these fools for months now, Astarion learning all their little intricacies whether he wants to or not.

Yet, he doesn’t find himself hating the growing familiarity quite as much as he did at the beginning.

He knew his siblings, of course. But that bond was different, one forged by mutual fear and shared pain. He didn’t know what kinds of books they liked to read or what their favorite sweets had been. Instead, he knew how each of their screams sounded and how their bodies had looked torn apart under Cazador and Godey’s punishments, flesh rent from bone.

No, he firmly knew more about this merry little band of imbeciles he had been thrown together with than the six souls he had known for years and years and years, with one individual in particular standing out above the rest.

Astarion, it seems, now knew more about Rin than he had ever cared to know about another person in over 200 years. Useless, meaningless information she’s offered up about herself seemingly at random and without purpose or prize.

She was a complete and utter fool.

And yet, he drank up each and every tiny piece about herself that she gave him as though it were her blood, flowing free and pomegranate-sweet from her neck.

Astarion knew her favorite flowers—a hard choice, according to her, but she tends to favor the perfect, happy purple of the crocus a little more than the rest.

He had rolled his eyes at this, swiftly informing her that flowers were essentially no more than useless, pretty things with little substance; and had earned himself a very sound swat upon his arm.

He knew her favorite foods—any sort of sweet berry at midsummer, along with a nice loaf of bread and perhaps some butter or cheese.

Her taste in food was pitifully simple, though Astarion supposes a life on the Lower City streets didn’t usually imbue people with a terribly complicated palate for the finer delicacies life had to offer.

He knew that Rin did not know her father—only that he had been an elf come to the city on some sort of business from a far away place and Rin her human mother’s only token of remembrance from an affair she only wanted to forget about, and one she eventually did forget about when she left Rin to fend for herself.

She knew nothing of the Elvish ways and customs, nothing of the language that should sit so naturally on her tongue.

The knowledge that he could say anything he wanted to her in their language and she would be hopeless to ever understand him is one that tempts him in a variety of ways that he doesn’t indulge, lest his mind find its way heading into dangerous territory.

He knew that she’d had no sweeping romances with tender touches and soft sighs—only quick nighttime flings helped along by pints of cheap ale from equally cheap taverns and that while they had perhaps filled a need, they tended to leave her feeling more empty and decidedly less than, in the end.

Astarion all too well understood that particular feeling. He hated that she had ever felt the same.

He readily ignores the inkling in the back of his mind warning him that he, perhaps, is no better than the others when he leaves her every night staring up at him, poorly concealed disappointment etched across her pretty face.

Uselessly, he also knew her favorite color—the deep, turquoise blue-green of the Chionthar on a clear day at noontime, naturally, when the sun sparkled off the undulating current of the water.

It could never be anything quite so easy as simply ‘the color blue’ with her.

Astarion himself had long forgotten the color of the river, having only seen it as the darkened muddy blue-black of the midnight hours for centuries now.

Rin had been utterly shocked when she asked him for his own and he had told her he didn’t have one.

“You don’t have a favorite color? Astarion,” She had said aghast, drawing out the syllables of his name as her bright eyes had widened in surprise.

He had no use for frivolous things like favorite colors.

What colors, exactly, was he to have had the time to enjoy?

Certainly not the darkly stained, ornately paneled woods of the chamber he used to entertain his victims; or the gaudy, overly saturated reds and too brightly shined golds in that room meant to invoke opulence and luxury, yet another layer designed to further lure them into the fantasy he provided.

Nor the watery yellow glow of torchlight against the dull, muddied brown of wet cobblestones as he led whoever had been chosen that night back to the Szarr Palace, charming and seductive as he promised them his body and their control over it.

There was nothing beautiful about the metallic shine of a silver cage in the kennel, dotted with the rusty brown of dried blood, though whether it was his own or belonged to one of his siblings he never really knew.

How was there to be any joy found in color beyond the allure of the deepest burgundy wine as it filled up his cup to help dull his mind as he lowered himself to do the things his mark that evening wanted of him, mind drifting to focus on anything else as he did whatever he needed to do in order to survive.

Astarion grimaces, throwing back another swallow of his wine as the thoughts leave him tinged with the sickly yellow-green of disgust and the feeling of shame: a blistering, burning, glowing red.

At first, right after the Nautiloid had crashed and he had escaped the closeness of that dreadful pod, his chest having constricted at the tightness of it around him—it was just another cage in the end, wasn’t it? Just another leash for him to be collared to—the riot of colors in the bright light of the sun had hurt his newly sensitive eyes as he had hid in the shadow of the wreckage.

It was only once he had realized he wouldn’t be burned to a crisp in the sunshine, a wonder in its own right, that he began to take notice of them all. There were far too many colors and all of them were so…so saturated; all the different shades and intensities unbearably overwhelming.

From the small green leaves of the scrubby trees, to the brown grains of sand, to the grotesque purple of the Nautiloid and the soon-to-be rotting corpses of mindflayers—terribly, horribly overwhelming.

She was overwhelming to look at when he first saw her, too. Shining eyes of emerald green, warm skin thoroughly kissed by the sun, dark blonde curls gleaming in the unbearable brightness of the light. That awful outfit she wore that marked her as none other but a bard, albeit one with terrible sartorial sense.

Rin was the first person he had set eyes on in the sunshine in over 200 years and he had hated the very sight of her.

She had been a clash of colors, all dreadfully uncomplimentary to him, that he shied away from the sight of. Colors like that were never quite so bold in the darkness that he was so used to, their vivacity dulled by dancing firelight and the shadows of night.

She was too brilliant to bear the sight of, utterly casual and downright flippant, too unbothered by it all to be trusted—though, he knows better now; and looking back he can see that her confidence was all nothing more than a well-executed performance on her part.

He still doesn’t feel bad about holding that knife to her neck as he had dragged her down into the coarse sand with him, the scent of her scarlet blood still rich despite it drying against her cheek, dots of it mixing in with the freckles that were scattered across her cheeks like the tiniest of constellations.

Perhaps that was his first mistake in all of this, allowing himself to get so near someone so dazzling and warm. It was like playing with fire—dance too close to the flame and you were bound to be burned.

And going up into flames was something Astarion could not afford.

But now, slowly, the color has begun to come back to him little by little and he could start to appreciate again it for the first time in centuries.

The precise cornflower blue of the sky on a cloudless day or the deep violet of it at twilight as the stars wink to life.

The way sunlight dappled onto the ground through a forested canopy to illuminate the all the tiny flowers that grow up from the ground in a rainbow of colors—purples, pinks, yellows, blues.

The myriad of all the different greens that he could now truly behold: the dark, bountiful leaves of a fern, a fragile spring green stem of a flower, the lush and verdant shade of her eyes.

Astarion still didn’t have a favorite color. Not really.

But he was coming around to the idea of having one.

A laugh carries across camp, melodic and light and lovely, dragging him from the depths of his musings over to where Rin sits by the fire, their companions all floating around her like moths to a flame.

He absolutely hates the way they all look at her.

He can see it on their faces, a blatant adoration that she somehow seems to completely disregard for reasons he can’t fathom, instead intent to spend her time with him of all people.

But he cannot blame them, after all, because he’s no better. Just as desperate for her attention and her closeness, it seems, if the way his feet kept finding their way to her tent night after night was anything to go by.

Astarion wonders sometimes if they can see the very same hopeless look on his own face as he gazes upon her, despite how well he tries to hide it.

Rin leans against Halsin as she laughs, cheeks flushing at whatever it is the oversized elf says to her. Her curls are unbound, falling freely around her tonight in a wave of shining gold to her waist and he wishes he could bury his fingers in the strands to feel the softness of them for himself.

The druid does nothing to dissuade Rin from the circle of his arms as he claps a hand on her shoulder before sliding it down to the small of her back, smiling at her a touch too friendly for Astarion’s liking and a stab of something hits him straight in the chest.

Jealousy.

He has no claim to her, of course. He’s not made one and has no plans to. But the sudden thought of her underneath Halsin—or any of them, really—has his jaw clenching tight.

The other elf is attractive and strong, no doubt a good lover; and the thought of the warmth he could so easily provide her that Astarion cannot churns his long-empty stomach.

He can see it all too easily, imagining Rin so very pretty with cheeks flushed pink and body inviting as Halsin leans over and takes her sweetness for his own.

He can see Rin on her knees, looking up at the druid with the same look of affection in her eyes that she had given him earlier that day as she had tasted him.

Or perhaps the worst thoughts of them all—Rin telling Halsin all the inane things she would normally bother him with; Rin playing tiny bits of melodies and sweet little songs on her lyre for Halsin while he whittles by the light of the fire; Rin writing the druid letters that she would then hide poorly in his tent, ensuring they can always be found and read and replied to—

He was spiraling, and he needed to stop.

Astarion shakes the thoughts away with a frown, bringing his goblet back to his lips for another sip. He doesn’t know why she favors him so, why she allows him into her orbit when there’s a group full of others who would so readily take his place, all of whom would no doubt treat her better than he has.

He wouldn’t blame her, if she sought after any of the others.

Certainly not after that night, the one where he had made her undress before him for his entertainment and then kicked her out of his tent when she was still wrapped up in the afterglow of what was a very intimate evening.

Perhaps too intimate.

His chest gnaws at itself at the thought of the way he had handled it all.

Astarion had lost count of how many times he had undressed in front of others, so many of their faces blessedly long blurred by time.

He had unbuttoned and unlaced countless of his shirts, pants, doublets—a liar’s allure painted upon his features as he gave whoever it was a show, forever the night’s entertainment for his quarry.

Yet, he had made her do the same.

He had enjoyed it, too. He had enjoyed watching her undress solely for him, piece by piece, her gaze piercing his own as she reveled in his attention on her.

She hadn’t said no or objected to it. But he could see the challenge in her eyes just as easily as she could see right through him and his attempt to gain back his precious lead in their little game, the perceptive little thing.

A strange feeling—remorse—settles itself in his chest as he watches her from across camp.

The remorse only grows the longer Astarion fixates on it, leading to more and more questions that he doesn’t have the answers to, the weight of them near unbearable upon his scarred shoulders.

The crushing reality was that his plan was crumbling bit by bit, like a tiny pebble crushed under foot; and the worst part about it was that he was finding it harder and harder to care.

Rin has made it abundantly clear that she is on his side.

He’d seduced her, had won her sword (mediocre skill notwithstanding), and had long secured her dedication to his cause.

By all accounts, his plan is practically complete where she’s concerned.

All they needed to do now was get back to Baldur’s Gate and—well, he wasn’t quite sure what would come after they get back into the city, Astarion was still a little fuzzy on the details of it all, but she’d help him figure it out when the time came, of course.

Rin was aways helpful when it really mattered.

So why is it that he can’t stop with the first part? Even if he were to decide to stop sleeping with her, he wasn’t particularly concerned that she would suddenly turn on him.

He has no reason to find his way into her bed now; no reason other than his own selfish, deep-seated desire for her company and attention and affection.

Rin catches his eye in a poorly timed glance of his own, and smiles so full of a sickening fondness—nose crinkled and flushed cheeks—at him.

Faster than he can follow she’s out of Halsin’s embrace, gracing the druid with a playful smile and a pat on the shoulder before she saunters over to where he sits perched on his rock, limbs unnaturally loose as she pads closer—drunk indeed.

Astarion doesn’t miss the way the light from the fire limns her figure from behind, setting her aglow in a halo of golden-red as she finds her way over to him, something in his chest warming as she nears.

She sways slightly when she stops before him and he can smell the rich tang of the whiskey on her as she sends him a mischievous look that has his lips already quirking up at the corners.

“You,” she pokes him in the chest to add an emphasis that he did not need. “Should come join us”

“And you,” he refrains from poking her back in response, though the thought amuses him. “Are drunk.”

Rin takes a step closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning forward, slotting herself between his legs and blithely ignoring the glances the motion garners from their companions.

Astarion’s eyes widen at the blatant display of affection, taken aback by the ease of it as the scent of her surrounds him—honey and flowers and all around loveliness.

On anyone else he would hate the perfume she wears, but on her it smells nothing short of wonderful; tempting him to bury his face into her neck and breathe her in.

Her hands play with the hair on his neck, as they always seem to, delicate fingertips running through the waves and he resists the urge to lean into her soothing touch.

He can feel multiple sets of eyes upon the two of them, voices lowered into whispers as the group no doubt gossips. The nature of his relationship with Rin is far from a secret, he’s drawn too many beautiful sounds from her lips for anyone to be unaware of their trysts.

Astarion secretly revels in the idea that they are quite possibly jealous of what Rin gives to him; something that none of them have ever received from her.

So let them see, then.

Let them see that it is him who she seeks out, his arms the ones she wants to find herself in, his lips the ones she wishes to kiss.

Astarion’s arms find their way to her waist with an uncomfortable ease, hands settling along the indent of it as his thumbs run up and down her covered skin without thought, dragging her closer between his legs until their faces are mere inches from one another’s, only the rock beneath him stopping her chest from pressing fully against his own.

“I’m not drunk enough, I fear.” Rin cocks her head to the side with a smile, as she whispers covertly to him. “Maybe, if you come share a drink with me, we can fix that.”

Astarion allows himself the temptation to brush an errant curl away from her face, the lock just as soft as he knew it’d be, before matching her tone. “Don’t be such a lush, dear.”

“Oh, come on, Astarion. I know that you enjoy a good drink as much as I do. And I promise, the whiskey is good.”

He swears that he can hear her breath hitch as his fingers accidentally brush against her cheek, her eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise as he tucks the curl behind her ear.

“Oh, I’ve got no doubt of that, my dear,” He chuckles, a corner of his mouth turning up without his permission. “If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be quite so tipsy in front of me.”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Rin tuts, pouting.

The way her bottom lip pushes out and her eyes widen under lowered brows is, dare he say, cute; and he can’t help the inward sigh that he’s now been relegated to thinking of a beautiful woman something as absurd as cute.

It’s a blow to his seductive charm, surely, to use such a word to describe her; but all of the other adjectives he’s thought of in the past seem to had fled his mind under her spell when she looks at him like that.

What in the absolute hells has she done to him?

“Pouting? Really, darling?” Astarion drawls, the hand he had used to tuck her hair back now brushing openly down her cheek in a touch that has her face heating to a most becoming shade of pink.

Rin instinctively leans into his hand and he resists the urge to cup her cheek, suddenly possessed by the want to draw her face closer to his.

“You don’t have to come drink with me at all, of course.” Her voice takes on that same tone it had taken on earlier, intention dripping from her words like the thickest of honey as her she bites her lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. “We can always go find something else to do instead. Just the two of us.”

The pink of her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip, soothing the place where she bit down upon it, and if Astarion hadn’t been paying attention already, he certainly would be now.

“Oh? Just the two of us?” He teases her, his other hand moving to curl around her lower back to pull her even closer, Rin curving herself into him, and Gods if the feeling of her against him didn’t feel like heaven. “What do you have in mind? A game of cards? Or, perhaps we should practice our calligraphy together, hm?”

Rin leans in to let her lips brush against the tip of his ear, Astarion barely holding back the shiver that threatens to break free as her hands comb through his hair and she speaks low, “I can make you feel good again, Astarion. If you want me to.”

Her words bleed with affection and genuine sweetness, and Astarion finds it very difficult to say no to her when she asks like that.

His mind flashes back to earlier, the image of Rin on her knees as she had waited for his answer, hands poised at his waistband streaking through his mind along with others as his stomach tightens.

Her perfect lips wrapped around his cock, the feeling of coming down her throat, drops of diamond-like tears tracing down flushed cheeks, his hands buried in her hair.

How she had told him to take his pleasure and not worry about hers. A very sweet sentiment that he deeply appreciated for reasons he very much didn’t want to think about at the moment.

‘Thank you, Astarion, for letting me give you something for once,’Rin had said.

As if she didn’t already give him plenty.

He’s thoroughly enjoyed being at her mercy, her touch always soft and gentle while she asks for permission. It had been so many years since he had indulged in wanting to be touched like that, and having affection heaped upon him by someone so eager to please him has quickly become nothing short of addicting.

“Oh? And do tell, how you plan on doing that?” Astarion lets his fingers drift slowly up her spine, enjoying the way her body presses harder into his and her breath catches, the sound lovely.

“Follow me and I’ll show you,” Rin whispers as she steps out of the circle of his arms, swaying slightly as she does, and Astarion’s brows knit together in consternation.

She grabs his hand, and Astarion swears the feeling of hers wrapped around his could scald him, every nerve in his body set alight by that innocent touch.

He allows himself to be lead to her tent, content to follow after her with hands still connected; but there seemed to be a single glaring issue standing in Astarion’s way that he was apparently now unable to ignore.

She was quite drunk tonight.

Too drunk, according to a newer, still unfamiliar voice in his head.

It’s a step too far for him now, or at least it is where she’s concerned; a step that, granted, months ago he wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at taking.

All the better if they were too drunk, it only made his job easier in the end.

But Rin’s not like that, she’s not a mark and she deserves so much better than being taken advantage of in such a state, even if for his plan or his own personal desires of her.

She would be so easy to please like this, with the alcohol addling her mind.

And oh, how he could please her.

He could so easily touch and kiss and fuck any thoughts she may have about Halsin or any of the rest of them right out of her mind, ensuring that his name is the only one that falls from her lips.

She steps through the flap of her tent, her hand still holding his, and once he’s inside she’s turning again, wrapping her arms around his neck as she balances up on tiptoes, staring earnestly into his eyes.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Astarion. Just tell me, I want to know more about what you like.” She sways again, and his arm wraps around her waist to steady her as their bodies press together.

“Let’s get you lying down, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t meant to say such a word earlier, but it had slipped out of his mouth as he had hit the burning, white hot peak of his pleasure at her worship.

Astarion finds, though, that he likes the way it flows off his tongue when directed at her.

It fits her well enough, in his opinion.

He lets Rin drag him to the ground until her back is against her bedroll and he hovers over her, staring down into hazy green eyes as her curls spread around her. She’s a vision like this, and he memorizes the sight of her without thinking to, his eyes moving to capture every inch of her before his mind even realizes what he’s doing and can tell himself to stop.

“And now, Astarion?”

She waits on a bated breath, waiting, as his eyes finding their way again to her lips.

Kiss her. That voice in the back of his mind is nothing but a traitor as it whispers to him, knowing full well he can’t give in to such dizzying impulses like that on a whim.

He knows better than to allow himself to kiss her. Because once starts he won’t be able to stop.

It would be so easy to fall into her, to kiss her into utter oblivion and lose himself in the body she so readily offers. To forget all about his pathetic life if only for the little bit of time they steal away to spend together in temporary bliss.

But it always comes back after.

The memories, the reality of who is he and what he’s done, the feeling of his skin crawling in the aftermath of so many hands that have touched him without permission.

Her touch is different, but when he’s been touched thousands of times by thousands of people, it all seems to blend together in the end no matter what he wants—even if hers is the only one he wants to think about and remember the feeling of, thoughts of her consuming him even with just a gentle brush of her arm against his.

“And now, darling, you sleep.”

He doubts she’ll remember much come morning, the whiskey burning through her veins hotter than a flask of alchemist’s fire; but Astarion finds that he wants to be remembered, if only by her, just this once.

Wants her to remember their time together the way he always will. If they survive this, even when he has his freedom and is long gone to wherever it is he wants to go—he will always remember.

He ignores the stutter of loneliness that pangs in his chest as he imagines ever so briefly what his freedom will look like when he’s on his own with no one else around.

It would certainly be quiet. Perhaps even peaceful.

He would be able to spend his time however he wished it in the solitude, not a soul around to bother him with foolish chatter unless he went in search of such a thing.

Strange how the thought of it doesn’t hold the same appeal that it once did.

A hand running along his cheek draws him out of his thoughts, dragging him back to the present as Rin looks up at him, eyes soft and yet somehow still managing to pierce straight through his un-beating heart as she studies his features.

“I meant it, you know—what I said to you that night. You don’t have to fuck me, Astarion. You can come sleep with me and we can just lay together. Or even just talk. I know my conversation doesn’t mean much, but—” She cups his cheek in her palm, the tenderness of it threatening to burn him to cinders. “It doesn’t have to be just about sex between us. We’re friends too, aren’t we? Friends can simply enjoy each other’s company and presence and take care of each other, can’t they?”

She’s babbling, words falling out of her mouth freed by the whiskey; but the innate truth he hears in them threaten the remaining bits of resolve that he has left.

Astarion’s not quite sure who she’s trying to convince—herself or him—but his determination wanes regardless, like a thread pulled too tight and on the verge of snapping.

But it wasn’t just about the sex, and if it’s not just about his plan, then what was it about?

He’s fairly certain friends don’t typically know each other’s bodies as intimately as they do, or know how beautiful they look as they fall apart, or find themselves craving nothing more than to simply exist with the other near.

Friends probably also don’t think about each other in the depths of the night when they’re cold and alone and hurting, the thought of the other a shining light in the eternal darkness of their existence.

Astarion, though, has never had any friends that he can remember.

With more gentleness than he would prefer, Astarion removes her hand from his cheek and rights himself to a kneel, his knees finding their home on either side of her hips.

He holds her hand within his own, turning his attention where he cradles it in his palm. Her hand is smaller than his, several calluses along the places where she holds her rapier and her quill, fingers still decorated with the ink she must have used earlier to write him a very scathing letter.

He had briefly considered tearing the letter to bits, the words contained on the piece of paper properly irritating and, in Astarion’s opinion, practically libel, but he couldn’t do it; instead relegating it to the pile where he keeps all the other useless slips of parchment from her in a neat stack hidden out of plain sight in his tent.

Her letters were, after all, the first tangible thing anyone had given him since he was bestowed with his sanguine hunger, his dark curse.

And whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s so far been unable to find a valid reason to rid himself of them, useless though they may be.

Before he can catch himself, he’s leaning his head down to the hand he holds within his own, and with a damning softness he brushes a kiss onto each of her ink-stained fingertips where they had touched his face, lips light against them before placing a final, reverent kiss in the center of her palm.

She’s looks as though she’s not even breathing when Astarion raises his head to stare down at her, her hand still clasped in his own.

He can hear the beat of her heart, drumming loudly against her ribcage with a rhythm he’s become so very familiar with, and he can smell the ambrosia of her blood as it soars through her veins.

Even in the darkness he can see the pink of her cheeks and the freckles that dust over the tops of them and he’s half-tempted to count them, wishing to brush his fingers over each and every one of them, if only to feel his skin against the sunny warmth of her own.

But it’s too much, and he’s spiraling downdowndown again into the depths of somewhere he’s not yet ready to be, and so he needs to leave. Needs to leave for the same reason he has to leave her every night, despite the weakness that has him indulging in anything and everything else she’ll afford him.

He has no other choice, for when she speaks such innocent words to him, offering him the simple solace of rest so full of a tender, blossoming affection, he’s filled with a want so heavy it threatens to drag him under.

Because if Astarion allows himself to give in—to know what it would be like to be warm, comfortable, safe—he knows he would never be able to go without it again.

Warmth, kisses, attention, kindness—all heaped upon him without wanting anything in return. No money, no favors, no motive other than her pure wish to spend time with him.

It’s a good thing his heart no longer beats, for if it did, Astarion has no doubt that she would be able to hear the rampant sound of it in his chest just as he can hear her own.

He rests her hand back down, letting it settle across her stomach as he swallows down the torrent of things that threaten to break free from him, Rin looking at him with a confused sort of wonder, as though he were a puzzle she was trying desperately to fit the pieces of together in her mind.

“Good night.” He stands to leave, movements as quiet as the night around them thanks to the unnatural grace he possess, before turning toward the tent flap. “Sleep well, my darling.”

He’ll allow himself that much, at least; for what was the harm in letting himself indulge in getting to call her his own just this once, if only to see what it feels like?

“You too, Astarion.” He turns his head briefly at her whispered words and meets her eyes, something molten and unguarded smoldering in her gaze as she watches him leave.

He can’t bear the sight of it a moment more, another utterance from her all it would take for him to succumb to his most secret desires—things he can barely stand to admit to himself—and so he turns his head forward and walks back out into the darkness, letting the honest and true longing that has been slowly burning him from the inside out finally consume him.

#feelings: they've both got a lot of em #and what are they going to do about it? they don't know!!!!#astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion fandom #verbenaa writes things!

53 notes · View notes

incorrect-fnaf-quotes · 3 months ago

Text

Because of all the AU’s, I finally decided to do more of an updated version. Little bits of descriptions for most of them, too:

—

Swap AU: Hoping to both distract and cheer herself up from recent events, Cassie makes her way to the Mega Pizzaplex, located not too far away.

Except, when she’s suddenly trapped in the building, she’s quick to discover that there’s something up with Roxy and the rest of the animatronics.

However, it seems as if she may have a chance—thanks to a mysterious rabbit lady, and another, stranger rabbit, which she cannot understand.

—

Fantasy Springtrap AU: Suddenly cursed by his closest friend, and thought to be the one for the ‘deaths’ by everyone else, Springtrap finds himself going on a quest.

Find the five, turn them back to normal. Prove his innocence. Track down Henry. Retrieve his sons. Keep Elizabeth safe. Remove the curse.

It... sure is a lot, he knows.

—

Imaginary Springtrap AU: One day, her father was still around. The next, it was as if he disappeared out of thin air.

With her true father gone, but hoping for his return, Elizabeth finds herself creating a familiar rabbit, who brings her comfort.

She just hopes he won’t disappear, too.

—

Science Experiment Springtrap AU: Created by humans, and held in a facility for over thirty years, the rabbit creature finally made his escape.

Except... the problems? He was unable to break the other three (Michael, Elizabeth, Evan) out, and finds himself injured.

But that’s where Y/N—a human(?) comes into play.

—

FNaF AU/Own Take: Not much to say with this one. It is what it sounds like, and there’s a lot. Just my own version/spin of the FNaF series as a whole.

—

Infection Springtrap AU: Alone for over thirty years, Springtrap finally finds himself able to escape the saferoom. Yet, something seems... wrong.

Something is able to affect both humans and animatronics. It isn’t before long that he reunites with his daughter. But, there’s another problem.

He needs to save her.

—

Mythology AU: While not a full plot, many characters are gods/goddesses/etc, and there are a lot of shenanigans going on.

Glamrock Freddy, after hearing Gregory, is helping him as the god of protection, while searching for Glamrock Bonnie.

Springtrap, after finally becoming a deity, is doing a lot.

Etc.

—

Rabbit Restoration Project: Y/N doesn’t have much knowledge about Freddy’s, including the recent attraction. They’re more focused on restoring things.

And the old, broken, rabbit animatronic that they just found? Not that far from the destroyed attraction? It would certainly make for something interesting to repair.

Yet, perhaps there’s much more to the rabbit...

—

Puppet & Robo-Charlie AU: After so long of wandering, upon meeting a young girl, the spirit has a lot of questions for her father.

As Puppet, and the younger robotic version of herself, wander, and learn the truth together, it seems as if someone is giving chase.

Henry has to make one rest. He has to shut the other off.

—

Glamrock Freddy & Lefty Duo AU: Possessing the newest Freddy model, Henry is thrown into a mission of protecting a boy named Gregory from the threats within the Pizzaplex.

However, he isn’t the only one. Repossessing what’s left, Charlie—Lefty, makes her way through the building, after learning of the situation.

Although the two agree to work together to help him, there’s a lot to be discussed.

—

Susie AU: She was the first. It hadn’t been too long ago. She was the first, and the rabbit planned to get more.

Susie finds herself remaining in the pizzeria, and as the days go by, more and more people are coming and going.

Finding Cassidy and the others, the spirit will try to keep them safe.

—

Lost & Found AU: Bonnie can’t recall a thing. He’s always been an animatronic rabbit, hasn’t he?

Jeremy’s parents remember everything, and haven’t stopped grieving, yet they don’t bring him up.

Jasper knows nothing.

But, when Bonnie stumbles into the home... things’ll change.

—

MXES Swap AU: Cassie finds herself trapped in the Pizzaplex, and is quick to, also, discover a strange mask. Upon wearing it, she’s met with a hare.

With a mysterious rabbit lady roaming, while also trying to free something, the hare—MXES, is certainly going to try to keep Cassie safe.

—

Van Escape Ending—Glitchtrap and Vanny AU: When the boy and the lead animatronic suddenly leave, that leaves the rabbits to continue their plan.

Although... Vanny has her own little plans—including against the rabbit who started this all.

—

Reluctant Follower Jeremy & Animatronic Vanny AU: Under the control of Glitchtrap, Jeremy makes his way to the Pizzaplex, where an abandoned rabbit is quickly found.

Choosing to use her for the two’s plans, Glitchtrap sends Vanny to trick the bear and the boy...

...But as the night goes on, developments and changes may happen.

—

ITP Springtrap AU: When a ballpit is suddenly installed in the attraction, the rabbit didn’t think much of it.

At least, not until he fell into it, and found himself back at the diner. Back in 1982. All of those years ago...

He missed his children so much. And, when the rabbit begins speaking to his youngest son... maybe, just maybe, the rabbit could change a horrible event.

—

Glamrock Reunion AU: The damage done to the rabbit caused his memories to become malfunction.

After the rabbit disappeared, the bear’s memories were altered.

Leaving with Cassie, the bunny and the bear reunite, but there’s... nothing.

It seems like they get to restart.

—

Ghost David AU: After his sudden death, David found himself wandering for quite a while, wondering what exactly could have happened.

Finding himself in a ruined Pizzaplex, he stumbles across a girl and a hare, both who are speaking about his friend—about The Mimic.

Surely the animatronic isn’t that dangerous? Maybe he could talk to his friend.

—

Mad Scientist/Dr. Scraptrap AU: With his children Elizabeth and Plushtrap, and his reluctant assistant Spring Bonnie, Dr. Scraptrap worked on a lot.

Although, one night, everything takes a disastrous turn when Elizabeth’s consciousness is suddenly transported into his newest creation, Scrap Baby.

How can he fix this?

—

Ensnared Within The Pit: A visit to the pit takes a disastrous turn when Oswald finds himself trapped in the past, at Freddy’s, and unable to go back through.

Continuing to deal with the yellow rabbit acting fatherly, as well as Bonnie pretending to be him...

Oswald must continue to search for his real father, while learning more of Freddy’s. All while a foxy mask and hook keep appearing around him.

—

Memories From The Pit: After an incident involving the ballpit, Oswald finds himself believing that everything is alright—that the rabbit really is his father.

Except, a year later... his suspension returns, and Oswald must figure out what’s going on.

—

Afton Team AU: All of the rabbits, with a vague idea of where they each came from, suddenly find themselves having to work together.

Except, there’s also a lot they need to worry about. Such as an angry rabbit lady, a vengeful spirit, an old friend, etc.

—

Burntrap AU: After the Pizza Sim fire, the rabbit is split between two selves—one regretful, and one not, who wants to keep going.

Burntrap is quick to jump into action to protect the trapped boy, with a final plan on how to deal with his other version on the back of his mind.

But, how long can he keep the truth away from Gregory? How long before the boy figures out before he is?

—

Funtime Show AU: Shenanigans with the Funtimes, connected to the Dr. Scraptrap AU.

There’s a lot that the group finds themselves pulled into, all while actually trying to bond, having only known most of the others for a short time.

Except for siblings Funtime Foxy and Lolbit, and best friends Funtime Freddy and Bon Bon.

—

Unnamed Springtrap AU: Abrubtly springlocked by Henry, and then left wandering for two years... before being trapped for thirty years...

...Not to mention the few years of working at the attraction, which was actually enjoyable.

Traveling after the fire, with the spirits who are clueless about the truth, Springtrap is on a mission to find his wife, his son, and an old friend.

The one who springlocked him, and the two who trapped him.

—

Game AU: After winning a game from a Freddy’s location, Crimson suddenly finds herself transported into the rpg itself.

There, she has a lot of teammates—such as Freddy himself, Dee-Dee, etc. Including Jack-O-Bonnie, who she obtains as a father figure.

She hopes she doesn’t have to leave soon.

—

Spring Bonnie’s Timeloop AU: After the fifth, Spring Bonnie awakens on stage, before that. Before the fourth. Or the third. Or the second. Or...

Or the first. Before Susie.

Unsure of what happened, yet also relieved, the rabbit begins trying to think of a way to prevent Mr. Afton’s plan.

...It’s easier said than done, however.

—

Follow the Leader: The rabbit lady, within the Pizzaplex, has begun to make herself known. She has quite a lot of plans.

Plans she’s coming up with herself. Plans that are nobody else’s. Plans that the rabbit lady has had on her mind for some time.

With nobody in control of her—with no yellow rabbit—with her working on her own...

Vanny wants to make sure she doesn’t fail.

—

Story in Code, Gold is Eroding: All is still not well in Animatronica—Animatronic Village—Village-Tronica?... the name is still being worked on.

Fredbear has gone missing. Thing’s are becoming far more dangerous. New threats. Strange mysteries.

A worried Spring Bonnie wants to get to the bottom of it all—but they don’t want to be alone. And they won’t be, certainly not.

Not when the rabbit is joined by their team—Springtrap, Shadow Freddy, and The Puppet, among others.

—

The Rabbit’s Mirage: Everything was going great at the Pizzaplex... well, at least for Vanny and the digital rabbit accompanying her.

However, when a boy by the name of Gregory finds himself within the building, thing’s take a turn.

Glitchtrap is acting strange, and he seems far more urgent in the capture of him. And, Vanny has one thing to wonder:

What makes Gregory so special?

—

FNaF MLP AU: Very much what it sounds like—there are just quite a few of ideas here.

Another spin at FNaF, with different and newer ideas, all while the characters are unicorns, earth ponies, etc.

There are many things to be discovered.

—

One Big Crumbling Family: Shortly after kicking Circus Baby out, Molten Freddy is struck with some unfortunate realizations.

One, his systems are becoming corrupted.

And two? Slowly, Funtime Foxy, Ballora, and Bon Bon seem to be disappearing. He can’t just let that happen. No.

Now, Molten Freddy must try to save them before it’s too late.

—

Sitcom AU: A more comedic spin, if the name wasn’t much of a reveal.

Follows Scraptrap after the attraction, as he begins meeting up with the others—such as Scrap Baby and Molten Freddy, wandering together...

Before their inevitable arrival to the newest pizzeria brings even more comedic chaos that the pizzeria can barely handle.

Set specifically in Pizza Sim, but the past doesn’t stay buried.

—

Robotic Remnant AU: A fun little AU that me & @universewolfpup have been working together on for a while.

Thanks to the help of a strange amulet, Styx finds himself in a new world, completely separated, and without a good chunk of memories.

At least a certain yellow rabbit stumbles across him.

—

Fazbear Racers: In their small town, the annual races are one of the few, major things that everyone looks forward to. This year, however?

There’s no denying it—strange and mysterious events begin to occur—both in and out of the most recent races.

Especially at night. Now, Freddy and the rest of the racers must figure out just what is going on.

—

Cassidy’s Lament: This couldn’t be it, could it? Something must have gone wrong during her visit with him. This can’t be the right place. That’s what her mind is telling her.

After an encounter with Old Man Consequences back in UCN, Cassidy finds herself thrown into a strange world, filled with the animatronics and strange creatures.

Stuck as Fredbear, and with old memories pulling themselves up, Cassidy makes it her mission to relocate OMC—while avoiding the dangers.

—

The Rabbit’s Chance: In the rubble of a horror attraction, Spring Bonnie awakens, vaguely aware of recent events, and finally in control of their body once more.

With William having left for a new suit, Spring Bonnie wanders, taking in all of the changes.

What had happened all of those years ago cannot be changed. The horrific events happened, and the rabbit had been used.

But... perhaps they have a chance at fully stopping William—especially when meeting a familiar man with an idea.

—

Rabbit Invasion: An alien resembling a rabbit, who calls himself Springtrap, has been traveling through space in stasis for over thirty years.

Upon crash landing, and awakening, the first person he meets is Henry Emily, who chooses to take him back.

Now, the alien begins to bond with the little family, while Henry tries to keep him hidden.

—

After the Finale: Her fathers plan had worked. It had worked for everyone else. She was tired, but not gone.

Charlie knows that she should rest—it’s been so long. And yet... she can’t. Something doesn’t feel right. Something needs to be done.

Still capable of controlling the damaged animatronic that she possesses, Charlie begins to travel.

—

A Shadow’s Quest: The five little spirits have been captured by a familiar rabbit, and in the process, were sent all over.

With Puppet too weakened to do much of anything for the time being, RXQ finds himself being given an important task from her.

The shadowy rabbit must travel through different realms, and find the five spirits.

—

In Plain Sight/Vamptrap AU: He’s been there for so long—watching over everything, and living a small distance away... yet, everyone is clueless.

He even walks through the village under a disguise.

When the rabbit captures a girl named Elizabeth, and makes her his daughter, trouble begins to arise.

—

Dr. Rabbit’s Tale: After using the van to escape with Glamrock Freddy, the boy thought that would be the end of it.

However, with a little bit of research, and the visit of from a strange rabbit...

Leaving everything else behind, Dr. Rabbit finds himself returning to the Mega Pizzaplex with his own plans.

—

The Anomaly’s Freedom: Y/N was just a simple worker at the Mega Pizzaplex—and they certainly hadn’t come across anything strange.

...At least not until they find a strange game by the name of Princess Quest.

Releasing a strange, goopy, and sentient rabbit from within it is one thing—but said rabbit actively choosing to come home with them?

Well... thing’s are certainly going to be far more interesting.

—

Hidden Fangs/Vamptrap AU: Escaping from the village where the truth was discovered, a wounded Vamptrap stumbles across Y/N.

Tended to by the human, Vamptrap knows he cannot let the truth be discovered once more, in fear of what may happen...

...While finding himself beginning to bond with Y/N.

Although, he knows he can’t resist blood.

#Not a quote #Spring’s Chatter #Save tag #FNaF AU #Anyone’s free to still send asks #I don’t have much else to say #But I just hope people like most of these-

76 notes · View notes

lovelytsunoda · 1 year ago

Text

slumber party // lance stroll

summary: when lances wife gets sick the morning of their daughters sixth birthday party, he offers to step in and play host. but of course, that’s before he finds out that it’s a slumber party, and he’s stuck with an army of six year olds until ten am the next morning.

the party was planned down to every painstaking detail so that it was perfect

right down to the princess decorations they started putting up a day early to the disney cake that chloe was making herself

it was going to be perfect

until y/n wakes up on the morning of with a blistering headache and nausea

she thinks they’re going to have to call off the party. she’s in no condition to handle a group of children

until lance steps in. he’ll call esteban and mick and between the three of them, they should be able to run a party without a hitch, right?

wrong.

they all arrive at the same time, and when the girls go running into the naive living room and start setting sleeping bags up under the skylight, the panic in his eyes is evident

“did your wife not tell you it was a slumber party?”

“no, she did not.” he bites his lip, running his fingers through his hair. “but how hard can it be, right?”

The other mother just laughs before she goes back to her car

horrible decision, really, but he leaves esteban and mick in charge while he runs upstairs to check on y/n (and get more details on the slumber part of the party)

and when he comes back downstairs, the girls are crying and one of them is hiding under the couch

“i left you alone with them for five minutes, esteban! what did you do?”

esteban looks at the floor, and mick rolls his eyes.

“somebody thought it was a good idea to open the afternoon with scary stories.”

“esteban, they’re six!”

“one of the girls told him he looked like the rat from flushed away and he decided the best course of action was to tell her that the house was haunted and micheal meyers would get her in her sleep.”

“this house was built in 2017 and I’m pretty sure nobody died here!”

he puts on an old barbie movie, and the girls calm down enough that they sit on the floor to eat party mix and gummy bears while the boys go over the game plan in the kitchen.

“what did you like doing when you were six?” lance asks desperately “there has to be something!”

“karting.” esteban shrugs.

“i cannot take ten six year olds to the karting track.”

but that gives him a different idea

which is how they end up in the simulator room trying to load Mario kart instead of the fia approved programming

which turns into an all out war between the girls

well

more like the army of six year olds against estie lance and mick

lance definitely lets his daughter win

chloe drops by dressed head to toe like a disney princess and brings the cake

scotty brings pizza

please please please imagine lance giving all these little girls princess manicures

his daughter defo makes him wear a plastic tiara

when the kids finally conk out and go to sleep around nine thirty (and esteban because he’s fucking tired), he goes upstairs to check on his wife while mick starts to clean up

she’s curled up in bed with the dog, buried under blankets

but she could hear the laughter coming up through the floor

“the girls are having a great time, honey.” she says sleepily, pulling him into bed with her “you guys are doing a great job.”

“i know. but please, for the love of god, never leave me in charge of a slumber party again. also, you might need to explain to mike and my dad why a ton of six year olds were using the sim to play mario kart.”

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @oconso @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @thatsdemko @httpiastri @clemswrld @diorleclerc @lorarri @cartierre

#lance stroll #lance stroll headcanons #lance stroll x reader #formula one x reader #f1 headcanons #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

567 notes · View notes

lethalchiralium · 1 year ago

Note

HAPPINESS QUESTION

Will Missus have a home birth for this baby? Or go to the hospital again?? I can imagine having a baby by yourself after not seeing your husband for near a year would be traumatizing 🥺

TEEHEE 🫶 god i love happiness questions i eat them up

happiness tid bit time 🫶 (next part of this drabble here)

“You’re not serious about this.” Simon looked down at you as you crossed your arms over your round belly. “A home birth? You’re crazy. You’re not doing it.”

“I do what I want, Simon. And you’re going to be here for it.” You answered, resting your feet on the arm of the couch. “I want to be in the comfort of my own home, I was uncomfortable in the hospital last time.” Your hand massaged the side of your belly, nervously awaiting your husband’s answer.

“What if something happens?” He said, kneeling beside you and placing his hand on your stomach, eyes meeting yours again. “I can only do so much, I don’t know how to do…this.” He gestured to your belly again. “We need to be somewhere where if something happens to you or the baby, you can get life-saving treatment.”

“It’s thirty minutes away.” You answered, head hitting the pillow behind you. “I want to be here with just you. You can call the surgeon from his office in town if something happens, but I am not staying in a hospital again.” Your hand reached for his, he took it.

He sighed, glaring at you before resting his cheek on the side of your belly - if he tried, he could hear his third baby’s heartbeat. “I am not comfortable about doing this here.”

“Then call the midwife, Simon.” You answered, annoyed that he wasn’t going with whatever you said. “I don’t care. We are not having this baby in a fucking hospital. End of story.”

“I can’t lose you.” He spoke, voice quieter than before. “Please.”

“Simon.” You groaned, hand then resting on his head, eyes staring at the ceiling. “I really don’t like having anyone’s hand up my vagina that isn’t yours.” He sort of laughed. “I want to have my baby in my home where I don’t have to starve for 47 hours like I did last time.” You looked back down to your husband, eyes staring at yours with emotions you couldn’t place. “If it goes wrong, it goes wrong. It’s a learning experience- and if it does go wrong, which it won’t,” You pet the side of his head gently. “You can say ‘I told you so’.”

“I can’t do it.” I can’t hold your lifeless body.

You merely smiled. “I know you can.”

He placed a kiss on the side of your stomach, putting his ear to it. He closed his eyes then, smelling your sweet perfume as he tried to listen for that little heartbeat. He had three more months before his family of four turned into five, and he was anxious.

He heard the thunder of little feet, the squeal of his second daughter as she tumbled into his chest, flinging her arms around him and giggling. He opened his eyes and looked down at Mellie, the girl in pigtails and a toothy grin with a curious glare. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, to which she squealed with delight, babbling as she pressed her little face into his chest.

Simon felt your hand card through his hair, he smirked back at you. You had a small smile on your lips. “I hope the next one loves me this much.”

“All of your kids love you more than me, this one is mine.” Your hands moved to cradle your belly, as if to protect the baby from him. He smiled, kissing your hand.

“Well, it’s hard for them to love you more than I do. It’s just impossible.”

please send me more happiness asks i cry about them

#happiness series #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley x f!reader

334 notes · View notes

satansapostle6 · 11 months ago

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Violence. Almost smut. Choking. Semi-public. Knee riding.

“The Angel From My Nightmare”

“10 Things I Hate About You”

“Alright, go have fun. Come get me if you need something,” Sara told her younger brother.

“Do you have to stay?” Connor complained as she and Lauren sat at a table.

“Sorry, kiddo. We gotta have fun too,” she teased. “Go. Have fun. We’ll be all the way over here, you won’t even know we’re here.”

That turned out to be completely wrong.

“It’s super crowded in here… Even Heather Hills and her friends are here tonight,” Lauren observed.

“Ew. She puts the ‘bully’ in bulimic,” Sara muttered.

“Yeah, even I’m not that far in denial,” Lauren agreed, turning as everyone noticed a loud feedback coming off of the DJ’s microphone.

The music stopped, and no one knew what was happening.

“Alright, enough of that,” Rodrick Heffley’s voice blasted over the speakers, replacing the music that had been playing.

Everyone at the roller rink stopped to see that he and the rest of the band had set up near the DJ booth, completely hijacking the music.

“Oh my God,” Lauren whispered, looking to Sara. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Sara hissed, looking at Rodrick in horror.

“We are Löded Diper, and we’re here to blow your minds,” Bill joined in.

“Oh my fucking God,” Sara murmured, trying her best to blend into the crowd as she scooted as far down the bench as possible.

But she quickly found that anonymity definitely wouldn’t be in the cards for her tonight.

“I’m Rodrick. Rodrick Heffley,” a shaky voice breathed into the mic.

“Hurry up!” someone’s dad yelled, more irritated about not hearing music than the whole music hijacking situation.

“Alright, uh… I’m here to sing one song. It’s a very special song, that goes out to a very special girl. Sara? Sara Walter?” Rodrick desperately searched the crowd for her.

He eventually found her, staring right at her as everyone in the roomed stared, including Heather Hills and the other ‘popular’ girls. Sara’s eyes widened with rage as her little brother and his friends all stared in her direction.

“Sara,” Rodrick stared, his eyes full of fear. “I… I’m sorry. You’re the prettiest, smartest girl in the world.”

Sara’s face went pale as she slowly turned to Lauren with all eyes on her.

“What the fuck?” she mouthed silently.

It seemed no one had anything to offer.

“Sara, I know you’re probably mad at me, and you probably should be. You’re beautiful, and you’re kind, and I don’t deserve you,” he blurted out as everyone watched.

Heather and her friends were now whispering and pointing in disgust.

“Listen, Sara, I get it if you never wanna talk to me again… But I really, really like you,” Rodrick announced in front of the entire building.

“Get on with it already!” another impatient onlooker shouted.

“Right, yeah, here goes,” he continued, rambling as he signaled to the band to start playing. “This song is for you, Sara Walter.”

Bill waved to her excitedly, completely unable to read the room as he tried to make the situation less intense. She watched, completely frozen as the band started playing. It was a bit rocky in the first few seconds, but then, she immediately recognized the song after the first few chords.

Struck by the effort that went into coordinating the entire thing, Sara could hardly control her racing thoughts. She didn’t know whether to be angry at Rodrick for the spectacle, or charmed by the gesture, or creeped out by the entire thing.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you…” the sixteen year old boy sang shakily in front of the crowd, his vocals questionable at best.

“'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now,”

Some people in the room, namely Heather’s group, laughed and whispered as Rodrick took the stage. Eventually, the teasing throughout the room got to be brutal, but he still persisted, trying his best not to break.

“God, he’s an idiot, but I still feel kinda bad,” Sara murmured.

“Sara. I’m gonna be completely honest with you,” Lauren raised an eyebrow. “You need to go kiss that boy right now.”

“Seriously? I’m just gonna run back into his arms because he made a fool of himself for me?” she reasoned. “That’s his whole brand!”

“Sara,” Lauren reminded her, her approach stern but caring. “Would Jake Anderson ever have performed your favorite slow song for you in a room full of people, even if his singing was pretty dog shit?”

Sara sat in silence for a moment as everyone still looked over at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

“What about Tyler Hayden? Or Lenwood Heath?”

“Okay, I get your point,” Sara said softly.

“I haven’t seen anybody give this much of a fuck for you since you were with Nadine,” Lauren admitted. “And you know how much I liked you guys.”

“Yeah,” Sara thought, considering her options.

“I think he really means what he says. Even if he’s fucking stupid,” Lauren told her.

Sara just sighed, looking up at Rodrick on the platform as he sang for her, never taking his eyes off her even once. It was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am,”

He sang like his life depended on it, which it kind of did. As much as Sara hated to admit it, she saw a look of genuine regret in his eyes that day. All she could think about was how much she really did like Rodrick, all the way until the end of the song.

It ended and a complete silence washed over the room, as just about everyone just stood around waiting for a resolution. Even security had been waiting until the spectacle was over to intervene. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was the first time that yielded any interesting results.

Of course, Heather and her friends wouldn’t stop whispering, but Rodrick refused to pay them any mind. He cleared his throat as the song ended, staring out at Sara with a sad, dopey look in his eyes as he prayed she’d forgive him.

“Fuck it,” Sara muttered to herself, walking out onto the rink.

She marched up to the platform looking both angry and confused. Rodrick didn’t know what to expect, and slowly stepped down in shock. He stood right in front of her, walking up to her as he waited for her to react to him in some way.

“I’m sorry,” he started to apologize, “I didn’t know how to make it up to you—”

“I don’t care,” she said finally, a resolve in her eyes.

“What does that mean?” Rodrick asked, ignoring the girls who were pointing and making fun.

“That means, fuck it, Rodrick Heffley, I’m really starting to like you too.”

Rodrick’s grunt of surprise was muffled into a spontaneous kiss as Sara jumped into his arms, which was met with a mostly positive reaction from their audience. He was hesitant at first, slowly warming up to her again as he scooped her up in his arms, kissing her lips like he’d never get the chance to again.

After a moment, they remembered where they were, and Rodrick awkwardly set her down on the ground with reluctance. He looked up and down nervously, not sure what to say now.

“Can we go?” Sara asked, uncomfortable as she looked around.

“Yes,” he nodded automatically, willing to comply to her every whim, “Yes. We can.”

After being kicked out of the roller rink, again, Rodrick and the rest of the band walked out to the parking lot, reviewing their performance that night.

“You know, I know we’re metal and all, but that was fucking beautiful,” Ben seemed to be teary-eyes.

Rodrick and Sara stepped outside for a moment, as she leaned against the wall in silence, trying to think. Knowing what might comfort her, Rodrick pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, opening it as he offered it to her. Nodding appreciatively at the gesture, Sara took one and held it in her mouth as he lit it for her.

“I’m sorry,” Rodrick blurted out finally, a pained but far away expression on his face, “I, uh… I didn’t know how else to show you I meant what I said. That I really, really like you.

“It’s okay,” Sara sighed, just hoping to move on from the issue, “I understand. Really. We all backtrack. I’m over it.”

“No, really. I don’t want you to think I made a scene just to distract from the way I acted,” he said slowly. “I really meant what I said—”

“Rodrick,” she said, eyes wide open, “It’s fine. It’s done. I’m over it.”

“No, I owe you an explanation,” he sighed, “I… I’ve just never had a real girlfriend before…”

“Dude, this isn’t exactly breaking news,” she looked at him with dead eyes.

“Okay, can you just not be a total fucking asshole for like one second?” Rodrick demanded with laughter.

“Okay, fine,” she threw her hands up in surrender, “I’m listening.”

The look on her face was less than convincing.

“You’re a bitch,” Rodrick laughed, no longer able to take himself seriously, “You’re a fucking bitch,” he pointed at her, his finger less than an inch from her face.

“Oh yeah?” she teased with a light chuckle, cigarette butt dropped to the ground and forgotten.

“Yeah.”

He stood in front of her, trying to remain serious as he leaned against the wall, his hand resting just above her head.

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he repeated playfully, trying to perfect his more serious demeanor.

“Am I a bitch, or are you just a little bitch?” Sara proposed, intentionally provoking him.

“No. You’re just a bitch,” he promised her.

Neither were sure exactly how it happened, but as he got in her face and challenged her, he attempted to jokingly pin her to the wall. At first, this entailed his arm resting on her chest, but then suddenly turned into something else entirely.

Rodrick didn’t intend it at all, but suddenly, the both of them found his hand slipped as he held her by the throat, still grinning.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he told her, before coming to and realizing that he was actually choking her.

First, his eyes fluttered as he realized the mistake he’d made, but once he saw he’d reaction, he felt himself giving into it.

“Fuck,” he moaned out loud, his finger pads pressing on her pressure points harder.

She softly sighed in excitement, the contact with the pressure points heightening the experience even more. Rodrick looked at her with pleading eyes as he choked her, admiring her gratuitously.

He leaned in to kiss her, groaning into her mouth as he pressed her against the wall with his large hand wrapped around her neck. She reacted by pulling him in by the collar, making him feel something even more euphoric. She deepens the kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth as he slowly moved his leg up her body, not stopping until his knee trailed down to her center.

For just a moment, he stopped kissing Sara, huffing softly into the warm skin of her neck.

“Is it bad that I kinda wanna see you fuck my knee right now?” he wondered.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And it’s hot.”

He chuckled happily as he sucked on her neck, roughly biting and sucking. He pushed his knee against her, practically fucking her with it against the wall behind the roller rink. She quietly groaned in frustration as she tried to align herself perfectly on his knee.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he gasped, eyes closed as he kissed all over her neck. “I hope you know you could ask me for anything. I’d do anything for you, or to you.”

“You’re so sexy,” Sara whined.

“I’m serious. If you wanted me to, I’d eat it from the back, and enjoy it,” he said completely deadpan. “All I wanna do is take you home and lay you down and make you come any way I know how.”

“We should probably stop this,” Sara thought intuitively, “Before this wall ends up pregnant.”

“I can’t control myself when I’m around you. And not cuz I think you’re hot,” Rodrick stated. “Honestly. I just see you and I wanna give you everything.”

“You already have,” she confessed, never having seen anyone so willing to risk things for her.

A/N: not sure if this is good, wrote it after doing a line

#rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick x y/n #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk rodrick #doawk #rodrick smut #rodrick heffley smut

286 notes · View notes

ryaeris · 2 years ago

Text

Killshot / L.DH

PAIRING: enemy!donghyuck x fem!reader

WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

SUMMARY: it seems as though you and donghyuck could never get along until the green-eyed monster decided to give the two of you a helping hand.

WARNINGS: donghyuck is an asshole, bathroom sex, counter sex, exhibitionism (kinda), unprotected sex, the pull out method (please don't do this), teasing, praise, confessions, implied established realtionship at the end, and a bit of fluff!

"last again?"

his voice was like nails to a chalkboard, the smugness in his voice causing your eye to twitch, the hand that was clutching your paper with a big fat 50% on it being crushed under its weight.

you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you roll your eyes with a scowl, but he made it hard to ignore when he used words like 'last,' like there was some kind of hierarchy of test scores. "shut it donghyuck." you gritted out, your hands clenched into fists in an effort to keep them at bay so your pencil wouldn't do any damage.

he just laughed.

oh god, that laugh. that annoying fucking obnoxious, condescending, infuriating laugh. you'd rather take on a million monsters with your bare hands than deal with this asshole. you didn't need to look at him to know that he was smirking, clearly enjoying the dismay written all over your face. he was sadistic like that… at least to you.

he was kind to his classmates and friends, it was just you that he relentlessly teased, that he always had something to say to, and you would be lying if you said you didn't wonder what it was like to be on his sweet side. sadly, the only thing he's ever had to offer you was his not-so-needed sarcasm and occasional academic advice— which you hadn't asked for, by the way.

you hadn't realized that you were glaring holes at the dark red pen ink, the numbers coaxing you to get lost in your head until your friend, yerim, called your name. she knew what was wrong, it was written all over your face, but she still tried to pull you away from the spiraling anger building inside of you. with her arm around your shoulder, she gave it a squeeze, meeting your eyes with her own, which was swimming with concern.

"are you okay?" she questioned softly, but as you turned your head away from her, they guided her to the man that was the cause of your displeasure. "donghyuck again, huh?" she asked again. it wasn't really a question, seeming as though she already had her answer. she always did.

yerim had always stuck by your side, ever since freshman year when you got lost on your way to class. it didn't take a ridiculous amount of time for her to become your other half, as though your brains were telepathically linked; or maybe you knew each other in another life. either way, she always knew how you felt or what you needed, the girl extremely in tune with your body language and aura.

"it's like he thinks that he's better than me just because he knows what he's doing." you gritted out. yerim sighed, nibbling on her lower lip in thought. "you already know that's not true, so i don't know why you allow him to get to you."

you could lie and say why you didn't know why his words affected you the way they did, but it was that gnawing feeling in your gut whenever you'd see him, when you were able to see him smile when he hangs out with his friends, that butterflies in your stomach when you'd hear his laugh. and you hated yourself for it.

"i just—" before you could complete your sentence; another body joined the conversation.

"ah! You did better than me!" jaemin's voice chimed enthusiastically. jaemin was new to your school, and he had somehow managed to worm his way into your duo.

you raised a brow, "you got lower than fifty percent?" he put his test on your desk, and in the right-hand corner there was a thirty-five percent. you gawked at his score. "how'd you manage that?!" you asked incredulously. his smile never faltered, "well… i kind of fell asleep the first thirty minutes of the test." you couldn't help but laugh at his thoughtlessness.

though you were distracted by the boy with a low score, you hadn't seen the way donghyuck was glaring, not at you, but at jaemin.

"i knew i should have sat by you." you said to yourself. he threw a leg over the seat in front of you, his chest pressed up against the plastic headrest. with crossed arms, he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

"where would i be without having you to keep me in line." he teased with a tilt of his head. jaemin had always been flirtatious, it just came naturally to him; in all honesty, he probably wasn't even aware that he was doing it.

"shut up." you said with a smile, pushing him back with a soft shove. the blonde's head lifted, but his eyes never strayed away from you. with another wave of your hand and an expectant look on your face, he turned around, and class resumed.

it was a grueling hour before you were finally free; yerim, jaemin, and you were walking side by side.

"so…" jaemin began, "there's this party that I'm throwing, and i want you to come." your eyebrows furrowed at the invitation. parties aren't really your thing, but it wasn't like you haven't attended one before, plus, it was jaemin, so why not?

"sure," you said with a shrug, "why not?" the grin on his place was pretty much shit-eating. "would you like to go too, yerim?" he asked. she just shook her head, waving her hand back and forth. "no thank you, i'm taking my girlfriend out on a date today!" she said excitedly.

you smiled at the girl as jaemin nodded understandingly. "well, i guess that leaves the two of us, huh? i'll see you tonight then!"

he waved the both of you goodbye, going off somewhere to the left as yerim brought your attention back to her.

"so, any outfit ideas for the party?" you shook your head no, "nah, i figured i'd just go in casual, y'know?" it was almost as if the words that came out of your mouth offended her. "absolutely not!" she exclaimed. "you don't know if there's going to be hot guys there, and i am not going to allow you to look like a hot mess just because you think you have nothing to prove."

you knew you could do nothing but oblige to her demands, groaning out a weak 'fine', internally knowing you had your night cut out for you.

you almost hated to say it, but you were quite impressed with the outfit she had managed to squeeze you in; a lightweight dress with some heels that you could manage to walk in, your makeup natural but charming.

"you know you look good. admit it, i did a fantastic job." she gushed. you rolled your eyes light-heartedly. "don't you have somewhere to be?" you asked. that seemed to pull her head out of her ass because her eyes widened at the numbers on her phone. "yes, i do, but this isn't over, and you know it. i'll be back home later to hear about how everyone complimented my expertise."

"shut up and go." you groaned, lightly shoving her out of the room as she giggled.

you unsurely looked in the mirror, your body turned to the side as you ran your hands down the front of your dress. you looked nice, and there was no point in backing out now.

the house was booming with people, almost the whole school was there, and the inside wasn't any better; loud music, the stench of alcohol, weed, and sex permeated the air. it was suffocating really, but you stuck to searching for jaemin amongst the sea of people.

you didn't have to search for long, because a thick hand placed itself on your shoulder.

"i'm glad you could make it." he said against the shell of your ear. you shivered, turning around with a smile on your face. "i told you i would, didn't i?" you teased.

"do you want a drink?" he asked. you nodded, "that would be great, thanks." with that, he left, leaving you to your own devices as you looked around you.

there were cheap decorations on the wall, but since the lights were off, there were different colored lights that decorated the space.

then, your breath caught in your throat.

donghyuck was sitting on the couch, a girl sitting on his lap as she giggled at something he said. he wasn't even that funny, so what was there to laugh about? you didn't know why you felt like this, why your stomach twisted at the sight of them, why there was a bitter taste in your mouth, why the words 'i wish that was me' were making their way up to the forefront of your mind.

"i had to look around but i managed to find a bottle that—"

"dance with me." you suddenly said.

"what?" his brows furrowed.

"i said," you took the red solo cup out of his hand, "dance with me." he gulped, allowing his fingers to loosen so he could put it on the white fold out table, pushing some scattered chips out of the way.

"okay." he agreed dumbly.

dragging him by his wrist, you pulled him into the crowd of people, placing his hands on your waist. you shouldn't be doing this, jaemin was your friend, friends don't get this close to other friends.

with your arms thrown around his neck, you swayed with him to the music, no space between the both of you as you looked over his shoulder.

donghyuck.

there was anger in his eyes, his attention completely snatched away from the girl on his lap as she practically begged for it back. you couldn't help but feel pleased at his anger, finally feeling like you had gotten him back for what he had said to you earlier.

as the song finally came to close, jaemin lowered his chin, his eyes boring into your soul. you knew he wanted to kiss you, but you looked down at his shirt, putting some distance between the two of you.

"that was fun." You said awkwardly. he cleared his throat. "yeah…" he said, "it was." you couldn't look at him, not with the shame bubbling in your gut. "i- um, i have to go to the bathroom." you took off down the hallway and into the nearest restroom.

shutting the door, you balanced yourself on your hands that sat on the sink counter, staring at yourself in the mirror.

what were you thinking acting like some lovesick fool?

what pulled you out of your berating thoughts was someone attempting to open the door.

"shit! it's occupied!" you said loudly. the person didn't say anything, opening the door.

"donghyuck?" you questioned, your brows furrowing in confusion, but also shock. "what the fuck was that?" He bit. now, it was your turn to be angry. "what was what?" shutting the door behind him, he stalked towards you until your back hit the wall.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about." he leaned closer to your face, your breaths intermingling as your chest rose and fell. "did you want to piss me off, huh? was that it? did you want to get a reaction out of me by dancing with him?" his voice got deeper with every accusation, your thighs clenching at the sound of it. you wanted to overthink, but you refused.

"so, what if i did? since I'm always last, you wouldn't dance with girls like me anyways, right?" you prodded, leaning your head to the side as a signal of a challenge.

"who said i wouldn't?"

and with that, he finally closed the distance between the two of you. his hands were fast to land on your hips as did yours, which tangled themselves into his dark brown locks. the kiss was fast and messy, desperate hands holding onto the other as you whimpered. he was unrelenting in his quest to dominate your lips, his tongue brushing against yours in a soft caress.

god, he was such a good kisser.

with a firm grip on your hips, he spun you around, the counter making contact with your lower back. breaking the kiss, your lungs begged for air as you breathed heavily. his large palms cupped the backs of your thighs, lifting you up so that you were now sitting on the marble.

"tell me when to stop." he huffed. "absolutely not." you said, dragging him back into a kiss as he smirked into it.

he hiked up your dress, his fingers scaling up the sides of your legs until they met with the band of your underwear. "lace." he hummed, "nice touch." he spoke against you. "thank yerim for that." he nodded, "will do."

you lifted your hips up so that he could pull them off, the man discarding them haphazardly on the floor.

your hands trailed down his shoulders, down his chest, to the hem of his shirt where you lifted it up. he didn't protest, allowing you to pull the offending item up and over his head, throwing it to the ground as well. "i always knew you looked hot under your clothes." you murmured. looking up at him, you were met with an incredulous look. "what?" you questioned. "i'm only human." he let out what sounded between a scoff and a chuckle.

"whatever."

you finally unlooped his belt, tugging his pants down just enough so you could pull him out of his boxers.

he hissed as you stroked his cock, teasing the head of it, you spread his precum around his tip before finally guiding it towards your entrance.

you buried your head in his neck as he entered you, your nails raked themselves down the expanse of his back, pulling a pained groan from him. thank god for the music, because if it weren't for that, everyone could hear you.

"donghyuck." you moaned as he had begun to subtly move. he was an asshole, but he wasn't a monster, he had allowed you to get used to him before he had begun to thrust.

"fuck." he grunted as his hips met the inside of your thighs. the pleasure was greater than anything you've felt before, even with your last partners. now you finally understood why that girl on his lap wanted his attention so badly.

"so good." you whined, your head falling back. he took advantage of your barren neck, latching his teeth to your pulse point. he left hickeys all along the column of your throat, the nibbling setting your veins on fire.

"'always wanted to do this." he groaned.

you could feel him getting closer and closer to his orgasm, his movements growing quicker and sloppier.

"donghyuck…" you breathed, unable to form coherent words anymore, your entire body shaking with the intensity of it all. he pulled back from your neck, his mouth searching for yours once more, sucking on your bottom lip roughly. your head swam as you tried to keep yourself upright, your hands gripping tightly on his biceps.

"fuck baby.." he whispered as he rested his forehead on yours, his breathing heavy. a hand left the side of your body to begin stimulating your clit, his thumbs moving it in tight circles. your entire body jerked involuntarily, if it weren't for him standing in front of you, you for sure would've flown off the counter.

you couldn't keep yourself silent, your moans mixing with the music playing from outside of the door, and donghyuck wasn't in too hot of a position either.

"you're okay," he cooed softly, the tone almost hypnotic. "you're doing great." as he kept murmuring praises, you realized you had never imagined you would ever be akin to his kind words.

feeling your climax nearing, your legs wrapped themselves tighter around him, your lower half grinding yourself against his pelvis.

with one last push, he quickly pulled out before releasing on your stomach, letting go of you with a gasp and a moan. your whole body shuddered as you caught your breath, panting. you collapsed onto him, and held you close, burying his nose into your hair and kissing your temple lightly.

there were a few beats of silence, both of you taking a moment to wrap around the sudden drastic change in your relationship.

"i suppose this doesn't mean i'm last again?" you asked, your words teasing.

"no," he said with a smile. "definitely not."

878 notes · View notes

thegreatirene · 1 year ago

Text

Traveling Witch (Adrian Tepes x witch!reader)

Rated M (language and violence)

Modern witch reader travels back in time to collect things for her collection and ends up losing a page on how to go back to her timeline.

Part 2. Part 3. Part4. Part5. Part6

To start off, this is not your first time traveling back in time. Granted it was only maybe thirty or so years but five centuries…it’s probably going to b your biggest jump ever. It’s not impossible, no you’ve known other magic beings able to travel that number of a distances, however…it’s you. The last time you tried to time jump was to the 60’s and you ended up in a whole different country. Mishap’s like that happened a couple more times but you were sure you had it down packed by now.

“Are you sure you want to go that far back? For some rock?” Your mother asked as she paced about the kitchen. She gathered some ingredients for you. “Last time you ended up almost half way around the world. Thank god it was a recent year cause you know not everyone likes our kind sweetheart.” She handed you the package and smoothed her hand down your arm.

“Ma it’s not just any rock it’s a trovant and it is found only in Romania. Plus I want to get one when it’s small! That way I can watch it grow and move,” you turned to put the package in your bag.

“Kind of wondering what else they have over there that I can take back with me?” You question as you and your mother made your way to another room. You opened a door that’s filled with books from wall to wall. In the center a stand with a book center on a podium.

“You and your rocks or whatever. Your room is full of them and now you want more of them?”

“It’s not going in my room. It’s going in the garden,” you said as you twirled around to her “we can have our very own trovant that moves and grows on its own without magic!” You whispered the last part in a excited squeal.

Your mother rolled her eyes but smiled as you made your way over to the book. You hummed to yourself as you looked for the spell you needed.

“Well, don’t go crazy and grab everything you see there. We don’t have enough room for your hoarding.” She said as she waved her hand and the pages turned on their own. It stopped on the exact page you were looking for “mm we’ll see.” You sang as you went around the podium and walked to a nearby mirror.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” your mother walked over to you, “don’t forget your necklace. I can’t be where you go and I know how you get with people so this should protect you against anything.” She put it on you and then smooth your hair down and she looked at you with a loving stare.

“Love you”

“Love you too Ma”

The both of you hugged and she walked back to the podium. You smiled at her through the mirror and than looked at yourself. Bringing your right index finger to the side of the mirror you slit your finger on the little blade that stuck out to the side. Watching the blood drip down your finger you spoke “У̷̡͔͓͔̃̌͐̀̏̿̂͜ш̸͙̤͋͗̇̄р̷̦̗̖̰̈́͆̈́̌л̵̜͉̤̟̑̈̈͂͌̂͝ц̷̠̘̲̜̼̫̄̊̄͂д̵̼̥̊̆͂͑ ̷̮̝͔̟͗̀̈́̂́͘͜в̶̧͂д̷̟̮̔̀̔̈́̅а̶̨̙͖̄д̴̢̖̞̫̔̐̓̎̎̓̒у̵̨̧̲́̈́͊̌т̴̰̋̀͗̽͆͘с̴̲̫̰̘͔̞̊͋я̸̤̖͚̘͆͊̆͛͠ ̵̲̊в̶͍͕̮̝̈́о̷̼̳͉̼̀л̵̧̞̋͌̀̉̀́а̵̧̬͇̯̮̹̇̃̄͜͝ ̴̡͈͔̼̟̹́͝х̶̨̣̟͍̬̙̒͋̑̿͑̽з̷͖̠͔͍͙̫̝̑́̆̈́а̸̢͖̤͚̻̣̭͑б̶̦͂” you drew a sigil as you spoke the words. The mirror started to glow in a blue white light.

You licked your finger clean and watched as the flesh mended together. You turned to look at your mother once more and blew her a kiss as you walked through the mirror. Everything is white as you walked the tunnel of time. Nothing can be seen and it is a bit haunting as the only thing you can hear is the clicking of your shoes.

You can see the other side of the opening and hope that it’s to a safe place. You stop as you came to the opening and looked and waited to see if anyone walked by. After a minute you poked your head out and saw no one and fully walked through.

“So far it looks fine” you looked back at the mirror and watched the mirrors light dim and than it turned back to a normal mirror. It looked as if you were in a hallway. Stone walls and what seemed like lightbulbs along the walls. There were three ways you can go but only one of them you can see was a set of stairs that went up. Those were in front of you. Seeing as that was the first thing that seem to lead out you took the stairs.

“What the fuck” you looked up at the stairs as it lead higher than you thought it was going to be.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” You grunted as you made your way up the steps. At least they were stable enough for you to walk up them. After a short while and a bit out of breath you made it to the door and put your hand on the knob. Closing your eyes and whispered to yourself a small spell. You push your mind eye out and looked passed the door. It seemed like there was no one near by and the place looked somewhat kept. As you returned you blinked a couple of times and opened the door.

It opened up to a foyer, it was huge and a bit dark, a few candles on the wall flickered and waved wildly as the wind from the door hit them. The air was stiff and smelled a bit off but not like no one was living there.

You knew where you wanted to go when you were back at home and hoped that you were here, Dracula’s castle. You read books and did a lot of research to be very sure that you found the right location and not the one that tourists went to.

You listened for any kind of life and could neither hear or feel anything. You let the breath you were holding go and walked further into the foyer.

“Yea looks like what a vampire would live in,” you said as you looked around and than up to the high ceiling, as much as you could see. You made your way to the front door but stopped as the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“Cine eşti?” Came the male voice that sounded like it was right behind you. You stayed facing forward but answered, “I’m sorry I don’t speak Romanian,” you turned slowly to look at the man. There was no one “hello?” You called out as you scanned the area but saw no one. You did hear a steady heartbeat. One you didn’t hear a while ago before you entered the foyer.

“Întreb încă o dată. Cine eşti?” The male voice came again this time you were able to pinpoint the location. He was behind you, you could feel him and smell him. The energy from him came hitting at you and you could tell he was threatened and angry. Swallowing the spit in your mouth you raised your hand slowly, “listen I don’t speak your language and it seems like you don’t speak mine. So how about-“ you were grabbed by the back of your neck and slammed down onto the concrete floor. The wind was knocked out from you in a instant.

“Pentru ce ai venit aici?! Ești și tu aici să mă păcălești!” He yelled at you as he forced your face to the floor. You gritted your teeth as you tried to breathe again. “Please…” you whimpered out as he pressed you harder. You whispered a spell and a flash of light came out of you throwing the man off of you. Rolling onto your back you took a couple of breaths and held your torso. Warmth came to your hand and you rubbed it over your body as you focused where it was hurting.

“O vrăjitoare” the man said as he got up, “Nu contează, voi scăpa de tine, chiar dacă știi un pic de magie.” You raised your head in time to see he swung a sword ready to cut you. You rolled away and looked where the sword landed.

“Are you trying to kill me!!! Are you insane!” You yelled as you got on your knees and crawled away. “I’m very sure murder isn’t allowed in Romania! So stop it or I’m calling the cops!” You screeched as your hand met the wall “I swear to god! Back off man!!” You went into your pocket trying to fish out your phone when he shouted at you again.

“Dude, dead ass I have no clue what you’re saying but you need to chill,” you flashed your hand towards him and before he could reach you, he froze. Frozen in his spot you got up and made your way over to him slowly.

“Ok we’re gonna start this over again, k. But first I need something from you..” you stepped in front of him.

“I’m gonna do a little spell but don’t be alarmed…or I guess you will be seeing as you don’t understand me” you said as you gave him a weary smile. You chanted a small spell as you waved your hand over his face. Once you were done you placed your hand on his shoulder bring him down just a little bit.

“I’m sorry for this part but it’s real quick and I’ll explain” you leant close to him and kissed his lips. The man was shocked as his eyes grew wide and he tried to move but couldn’t. You stepped back “ok we should be able to understand each other now” you said.

You stepped back a bit more giving you and the man space. Once you thought was a good distance you snapped your fingers and he fell to one knee. He brought a hand to his mouth as he stared at the floor.

“Listen I was trying to find my way out. I didn’t steal anything,” you paced back and forth slowly, “was trying to look for an exit and I did and than you atta-“ you fell back onto your back.

“Seriously!” You winced as you looked up at the man.

“How dare you!” He growled as he bared his teeth at you. You noticed his canines were long and it hit you as soon as you saw the rest of his face.

“Wait are you a-“ he pressed his hands around your throat and squeezed. Your breathing was cut short as he pressed down.

“First you enter my home even with the warnings outside. Than you kiss me without my permission” he squeezed harder “you’re gonna die here unless you tell me who you are.” He bit out as he got close to your face.

You patted his hands as you tried to breathe and looked at him as your vision became watery with the tears in them. He didn’t seem to want to let go as you tried to form words but nothing came out. You had enough and gathered enough energy into your hands and smacked his head with it. It sent him flying towards the doors and smashing them in the process.

Gasping for that lungful of air you coughed and turned towards the door. You could see him laying motionless and than jolt as he turned on his back. You sat up and spoke “my name is y/n l/n” you rasped as you rubbed your throat.

“I’m not from this country. I’m from ___” you got up as you walked over to the man. “I kissed you as a way to speak your language so we can both understand. I am sorry for it, I would also be upset if some stranger kissed me without my consent but this was the only spell I knew.” You sat down on one of the steps of the building.

The man groaned as he rubbed his eyes and muttered to himself. “Yea you were trying to kill me and I panicked so my bad if I used to much force on you.” You said.

You got up and walked over to his figure on the ground, “I know you,” you squat down blocking the sun from his face “Adrian Tepes, Dracula’s son. Didn’t think I’d see you here.” He froze as you said his name and than mentioned his father. You watched as he brought his hand down from his face and looked at you with what you can only guess as anger and a bit worry swirled in.

You sighed again as you placed your hand over his chest freezing him. “Listen, you really need to stop attacking people before they can get a few words out. It’s getting tiring and I hate wasting my energy on dumb shit like that.” You sat down this time next to him. Letting the wind blow through your hair as you took a deep breath and relaxed for a bit. You didn’t think you’d meet THE Adrian Tepes, even though it’s his family castle. You kind of thought he had passed or something but I guess you were wrong.

Here he lay watching you as you watch him watching you. Weird.

“You can speak. I only froze your body.”

“How do you know me?”

“My family has books on you and your family. Nothing bad they didn’t haunt you or them. I’m guessing you guys were friends or they knew you guys or something. I don’t know my mother doesn’t know much and my grandparents are too old to remember about their own family tree. So I should be glad that at least some of them bothered writing it down cause geez” you laughed as you rubbed your eyes and than ran your fingers through your hair.

“��..” he stayed silent.

“Swear I’m not a stalker. Just my peoples know your peoples. Nothing crazy, I didn’t even come here for you but for some rocks for my garden back home.”

Adrian squinted his eyes at you, “I’m so serious they’re called trovants. Apparently they grow and can reproduce! I was like ‘oh I’m so getting some of those for my garden’ and now I’m here” you animatedly said as you looked over at him.

“I like collecting weird and unexplainable things so those rocks would be right up my alley.” You smiled.

“You’re very strange.” He said as he eyed you. This time around you can tell that he wasn’t that angry. He was still on edge but you were sure you could let him up now that he knows you’re not there to harm him, hopefully.

You chuckled “yea well,” you turned to sit on your knees. “I’m gonna let you go now but please don’t attack me again. It’s really annoying and I hate wasting time.” You said as you looked at his face. He’s very pretty even prettier than the paintings you have seen back at home. His voice is even better than you could have imagined. Rich and deep like pure honey being poured onto speakers being used.

You sigh as you regained yourself and waited for his answer.

“I promise” you smiled and snapped your fingers. He moved to sit up and looked at you “soooo I know we got off on a bad start but if it’s ok with you I would really like to-“ his arm came swinging at you. He hit an invisible wall or some sort of force field. He grimaced when he looked at your face and slowly brought his hand down.

“Are…are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!” You shouted as you got up onto your feet and looked down at him. “I TOLD YOU I WASN’T GONNA ATTACK YOU OR HURT YOU AND YOU STILL GO FOR IT!!!” You waved your hand around as you walked away from him and towards the castle.

“I SWEAR to god you men are all the same! I guess being a dick head doesn’t change even if you’re from 600 years ago! Like what the fuck is that shit! I give you my fucking word and you still TRY to attack me!” You kicked the rest of the door that was broken off the henges and walked in.

“I’m so glad I put on my protection charm cause I swear! You men can’t be trusted!!” You went looking for your bag as you continued your rant. At this point Adrian walked in behind you worry on his face as he watched you grab your bag from the floor and looked at him. He held his hands together and swallowed as he made eye contact with you.

You walked up to him as you gritted your teeth and stood right in front of him. You didn’t exactly meet eye to eye but you were able to get him to look at you as if you were a giant to him. “I would think a man from your time would be more gentlemanly and shit but you’re just like the rest of them.” You poked his chest as you said the last few words. His brows scrunched as he took in the words you had said to him.

“Out there? What did you mean?” He asked as he watched you breath heavily from the rant you had.

You blinked at him, “what?”

“What did you say before?”

“You’re a shit man?”

“Before that, when we were outside, you said something about years…”

“…..” you thought about what you said and than spoke again. “The 600 years part??” You tilted your head as you thought about it.

“Yes 600 years…what year do you think it is?” He watched you.

“2023?” He looked alarmed and than stepped back as he got a good look at you again.

“What?” You said as you held your bag close to you. You watched as his eyes traveled from your feet to your face. “Why are you looking at me like that?!?!”

“I don’t think you know where you are right now.” He walked towards you and than gently grabbed your arm. He tugged on it to make you walk with him and you followed. He walked you back to the entrance and than nodded towards the outside.

When you looked you saw the body’s that were impaled. You gasped as you stepped back and looked at the horror that was in front of you. You don’t know how you missed all of that but maybe the anger that you had for Adrian blindsided you.

“What the fuck….what??” You looked at him as you felt numbness run through your body. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“I’m calling the cops.” You pulled out your phone and dialed the number. You held the phone up to your ear and pulled it away as a screeching noise came from it. Adrian looked at the device in your hand as you frantically hung up and redialed only for the same noise to happen again.

“What the fuck is going on!” You shouted as you turned the phone off to see if that works. Adrian walked over to you slowly. He watched as you pressed the side of your phone and the screen turned back on. He was amazed and walked closer to you.

“Back up” you held your hand up to him.

“What is that?” Adrian asked as he pushed your hand down and looked at the hand that was holding your phone.

“It’s a phone.” You looked at him and then to your phone once it turned back on and you went to dial again.

He watched as you held it up to your ear and pulled back again. “I think we need to have a talk” he said as he looked at you. You looked at him and lowered your phone as he lead you to a different room.

“Cute kitchen” you said as you sat at the seat Adrian pulled out for you. He thanked you and sat in the sit next to you.

“You are not in your time” he said as he laid his hands on top of the table. He waited and watched to see how you would react. He watched as your eyes flickered with confusion and than you threw your head back and groaned.

“Oh for fuck sakes!” You rubbed your face and than looked at him. “This is the second time I traveled back in time. But this time around I went FURTHER than I did last time!” You put your head down with a thud and groaned.

The both of you sat there in silence until he cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I looked at the… thing you had before?” You turned your head to look at him and fished around in your pocket. You laid your phone on the table and he went and grabbed it.

“What is this?”

“It’s called a phone. You can call people and do a lot of stuff on it….to a degree.”

He felt the phone around and it flashed on when he pressed the button on the side. He flinched when the screen flashed but looked as he saw your Lock Screen. It was a picture of you and your mother. The both of you smiling up at him. He looked at you and then the phone and then back at you. You could see he was confused and you puffed a laugh.

“How…?”

“It’s done with a camera. Here look,” you pushed his hand down and pressed the camera icon. It switched and now he could see his face. Adrian looked in bewilderment as he got close to the screen.

You could see his eyes moving back and forth. Which you were guessing was him trying to look at his eyes as they move but can’t.

“Press that white button there” you pointed at the screen. He did and than a soft flash went off and he blinked as he saw that his image was taken. You went to the album and showed the picture he took.

“See and now there’s a picture of you. I have this app that lets you put these filters on you and be all cute and shit.” You said as you moved your chair over and exit from the camera and angled the phone to see your face. Once it opened you went looking for the yellow icon and pressed it. You went looking for the obvious filter you wanted to try on him first.

The doggy filter came on and the dog ears bounced onto the screen and on Adrian’s head. He looked confused with his eyes wide. He touched his hair but felt nothing. When his mouth opened the tongue came out and scared him. He dropped your phone and then looked at you.

“What witchcraft is this?”

“I know right. It’s pretty cool how technology works. I’m still a bit confused with it myself and I’ve been exposed to it longer than you.” You laughed as you took your phone back. You looked to see if you had any bars and saw none. It was empty which you figured would happen.

“Ah shit my phone is about to die too.” You whined as you put your phone to sleep.

“Listen I don’t have a lot of time and I really need to go and look for what I’m looking for before the spell wears off and I’m stuck here until the blood moon.” You got up and adjusted the bag around you. Putting your phone back in your pocket “it was really nice meeting you Adrian. Even though you tried to kill me a bunch of times. Maybe when I go back to my timeline I can see if you still live in this castle and we can hang out.” You smiled as you walked back out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Adrian placed his hand in front of you. “Unlike your time there are monster out there that will kill you.”

#castlevania #adiran x reader #adrian tepes x reader

171 notes · View notes