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beckyninja · 1 month ago

Text

Accused

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader (sort of)

Warnings: mob violence

Description: While serving in the DeathWatch, Titus meets the woman who will come to mean more to him than he ever thought.

Another long prequel for you guys! This one takes place some time before the events of Revelation.

You ran.

Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you fled down the dry stream bed. High ravine walls on either side blocked the moonlight. You fled blind, guided only by memory. It wasn’t enough.

You slammed into an unseen boulder. Momentum hurled you forward onto the ground, skin scraping from your hands and knees. You let out a short cry, then froze.

Did they hear?

You strained your ears and heard nothing. But that did not comfort you. Your pursuers had spent lifetimes hunting wary prey in these mountains. Still, after a few minutes of stillness, you began to hope.

Perhaps they’ve given up.

From your prone position, you fought to see through the darkness ahead. The Angels’ ship. Your only chance of salvation. It had to be there!

You opened your mouth to scream. “Help m-”

Hands clamped onto your face and shoulders. You bit and struggled as they lifted you off the ground, dragging you backwards.

A high, mad laugh chilled your blood.

“You will burn, Heretic! Burn!”

***

The Day Before

“Father Cortez, this insanity must end!”

You stood outside the village’s little church, shawl pulled tight against your shoulders, and glared at the priest. He glared back. His red-rimmed eyes seemed to burn within their sockets. Blood stained his robes.

He’s been flogging himself again.

Your lips twisted. “How many more must die before you admit the uselessness of-”

“Silence!” Spittle sprayed from the priest’s mouth. “How dare you challenge me, girl!”

You sighed. Only a few years older than you, and yet he called you “girl.” You looked around at the crowd of villagers milling uneasily. Men, women, and children worn ragged by the terror of the past few months. Their eyes flickered between you and the priest.

“Friends,” you smiled, “for four generations the women of my family have tended your hurts, healed your sick, and delivered your children. I may be young. But I studied at the feet of my mother and grandmother before me. You trusted them.”

“Will you not trust me?”

Marta, the elderly church caretaker, finally spoke. “What would you have us do, Healer?”

You nodded to her. “We must send someone down-mountain, into the city. We must call for aid-”

“No!” The Priest shrieked. “These attacks are a test sent from the God-Emperor Himself! To purify and strengthen our faith!”

Your temper frayed. “And does the Emperor use xenos monsters as his instruments now, Father? Does He demand we sacrifice humans to them? Innocents?”

“Heretics!”

“Was little Carlos a heretic, Cortez? At seven years old?” You pushed through the crowd to point a finger directly in his face. “Was Old Inez, who never went a day without praying in this very church?”

You straightened your spine and loomed over the little man. “With each villager bound and left for these beasts, you promised they would leave. Have they? No!” You spun back to face the crowd. “Because they are no punishment! They are-”

A metallic roar cut off your words. From over the peaks surrounding the village, came a ship the likes of which you had never seen. The crowd shrieked and scattered as it hovered directly over their heads. For a minute it lingered there, sending dust-filled wind whipping through the square. Then, it rose once again and veered toward the south, beyond the ravine.

You stood amidst chaos. In front of you, families dove into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. Behind you, Father Cortez ranted and raved.

Upon the side of the ship a symbol had been carved: A skull and crossbones over an elaborate “I”.

Hope flickered in your heart.

***

“What are they?” Marta whimpered from her place next to you.

You peered through the church’s dirty window. An hour or so after the ship flew over the village, a few hunters had heard heavy footfalls coming up the ravine. For the second time that day people locked themselves within their huts and prayed to the Emperor.

It seemed He had finally heard them.

“The Emperor’s Angels.” You breathed.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded. “My great-grandmother saw one once, my grandmother told me.”

Giants in armor who brought salvation to the faithful and destruction to the enemy.

They were certainly giant. But the Angel in your grandmother’s story had worn brightly colored armor, whereas these wore black. You squinted through the grime and could just make out a couple of insignias painted on the massive shoulders: some sort of canine head and a stylized cross.

One bore no insignia at all. A red hood covered his helmet. You watched him gesture to the others.

“What are they doing here?” Marta’s voice shook.

“I think… I hope they might be-”

“It is none of our concern!”

Father Cortez’s bony hands gripped your and Marta’s shoulders. He dragged you backwards with surprising strength. The older woman tumbled to the floor with a pained cry. You knelt to help her, shooting the priest a look of disgust.

He ignored you. “Whatever they are here for, we should leave them to it.”

“And what if they’re here to help us?”

“We need no such help! The Emperor provides!”

“By the Throne,” you pressed your hands to your eyes, “yes. You’re right, Father. And He has provided.”

You pointed out the window. “There is His provision! Walking down our main street!”

“What… what are you going to do?” Marta whispered.

“If they are here to stop the xenos,” you muttered, half to yourself, “then they need to know about the earthquake, and the cave up on Black Peak.”

The priest cackled. “And what makes you so sure they don’t already know, girl?”

“Cortez!” You whirled on him. “Enough with the ‘girl’! I remember when you were a pimple-faced brat who delighted in pulling the legs off insects.”

If anything, you’ve only gotten worse since your ordination.

The priest drew back into the corner of the smoky church.

“Yes, go sulk and leave me be.” You took a deep breath and made for the door.

Marta shrilled your name. You waved the old woman’s concerns away, clinging to what little courage you’d managed to gather.

“I’m going to help, if I can.”

***

Idiot. Idiot! Throne damned, idiot!

Five helmeted heads had turned your way when you pushed open the church’s door and stepped into the square. A wave of dread washed over you, every primal instinct you possessed screaming at you to run.

Oh Throne, they’re so… big!

You knew large animals. Before the attacks began, the village had made its living hunting the lumbering beasts that lived among the peaks and ravines. Once you’d even seen one of the great predatory felines.

This moment reminded you of that encounter. But, instead of dashing back to safety, you continued toward the predators. You kept your hands held out in front of you.

I’m no threat. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from your lips. As if these behemoths would ever consider me one!

When you’d gotten within twenty feet, the Angel in the red hood raised a hand, palm facing you. He didn’t speak, but you felt the command as if he’d shouted. You halted, dropping to your knees and bowing your head.

You doubted your trembling legs would have carried you much farther, anyway.

An odd hissing, crackling noise seemed to come from the Angels’ direction. You didn’t dare look up as footsteps approached.

“Rise.”

The deep voice shook you from the inside out. You gasped and tried to comply, only for your legs to give out. A great, armored gauntlet grasped your upper arm, steadying you. You looked up into the lenses of the hooded Angel’s helmet.

For an instant, you swore you met his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, then, against all reason, calmed.

He won’t hurt me.

You didn’t know where the conviction came from. You just knew it to be true.

“Who are you?”

You told him your name. “I…I am the Healer of this village.” You remembered your grandmother’s story and hastily added, “M-my Lord.”

“Are you alone here?”

“N-no, my Lord. The others are afraid.”

A laugh, almost a bark, came from one of the other Angels. “And ye are not? Plucky little lass.”

Another gave a growl. “Commander, we should not linger.”

The Commander never looked away from you. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I…,” you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself, “I hope you are here to help us, my Lord. Against the xenos.”

A soft intake of breath, as if in surprise. “What do you know of xenos?”

“My great-grandmother came to this world on a refugee ship, my Lord. She told my grandmother of the Enemies of Mankind and their horrors.”

Silence, except for that hissing, crackling noise again.

You swallowed, desperation making you bold. “Please, my Lord, I think I can help.”

***

“... after the earthquake, some of our hunters reported a new cave opening up on Black Peak. A few boys decided to explore it. They never returned.”

You scampered over another boulder on the trail. You’d climbed this path dozens of times in your life, but it had become more difficult since the quake. Your foot slipped on a patch of loose shale.

Once again, an armored hand reached out to steady you. You smiled up at the Commander. Strange, the others still unnerved you, but not him.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He gave the barest nod. “Continue.”

“Well, that night the attacks began. They only ever come after dark, and they only ever take one person. Oh.”

Just ahead, an entire rock formation had collapsed on the trail. You watched the other Angels step over the rubble with minimal effort, and looked for a way to do the same. Suddenly, you felt hands at your waist.

The Commander lifted you like a child, settling you in the crook of one arm as he jumped the obstacle. One of the other Angels, the one with the canine head on his pauldron, looked back and chuckled.

“Oh! Um, thank you again, my Lord.”

You waited for him to set you on your feet. He didn’t, continuing up the mountain path.

“It will be faster this way.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You blurted.

“You are not. Continue.”

“R-right. Um, yes. The survivors say the creatures are like great insects, but made of metal.”

“Mmm.”

You wracked your memory for anything else. “Their eyes… they glowed green.”

The giant carrying you stiffened. You had no time to wonder about it before you spotted a great black opening in the mountainside far above you.

“There it is!”

The hissing, crackling noise again. All five Angels came to a halt, peering up at the cavern. The Commander placed you on the ground.

“Go back.”

You nodded. On the one hand, you were glad to be away. On the other…

“Will you be alright?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. One of the Angels guffawed, the sound starting a few small rock slides in the distance. You felt another’s glare like a brand on your skin.

“Of all the insolent-”

The Commander held up a hand, silencing him. “We will be fine. Go.”

You turned, shame heating your face, when he spoke again, softer than before. “My thanks.”

***

Halfway down the trail, you heard explosions, followed by rumbling chatter you assumed came from the Angels weapons. Plumes of smoke rose from the Peak.

God-Emperor, protect your Angels as they do battle in Your name.

Especially the kind one.

Your cheeks heated again and you scrambled back down the path. Would he remember you? You doubted it. Just an insignificant girl from an insignificant village on an insignificant world. You, however, would remember him for the rest of your life.

Another story to tell your own children, one day.

Without the Commander to carry you over the taller obstacles, it took the rest of the day to return to the village. The sun had begun to set. You smiled. Only yesterday the thought of being out after dark would have sent you sprinting in terror. But now…

You nearly skipped down the last stretch of path. You were hungry, thirsty, and tired. But you could not wait to tell your friends the news. They no longer needed to be afraid. No more need be sacrificed to the monsters in the dark.

Your mood soured at that thought.

None needed to be sacrificed in the first place.

Hopefully, now that the danger was past, the villagers would see how twisted Father Cortez had become. Perhaps you could rally them, convince them to send him back to the city. The village could request a new spiritual leader.

The streets were deserted. You heard voices in the direction of the church. A strange red glow seemed to emanate from that direction as well. A celebration? You smiled and broke into a run. You had much to celebrate.

A bonfire blazed in the center of the square. Father Cortez stood before it, gesticulating wildly. Before him every villager in the settlement watched with rapt attention.

As you neared, you began to make out his words.

“...Emperor, in His mercy, sent His angels to relieve our suffering!”

Finally, something you and I agree on, Cortez.

“But the stain of heresy still remains!”

You jerked to a halt at the rear of the crowd.

What?!

“We must find the true cause of our afflictions and cleanse it through flame! Lest the monsters return to ravage us once more!”

To your horror, the crowd murmured in assent. You noticed their postures, the looks in their eyes, and wondered what lies Cortez had been pouring in their ears during your absence. They reminded you of nothing so much as a herd of panicked prey animals.

But you’d calmed them before.

You began to move through the crowd. You smiled at the people you knew as friends, people your family had done nothing but help for four generations. Most refused to meet your gaze. Some glared, firelight dancing in their eyes.

Cortez saw you.

“There!” He shrieked. “The one who denied the Emperor’s justice! The dissenter! The trouble-maker! The outsider!” His lips curled back into a feral snarl. “The Heretic!”

You looked once more into the faces of the villagers around you. What you saw there chilled your blood.

You ran.

***

Present

“No!” You struggled in the grasp of the mob, searching desperately for a friendly face. “Lonzo, Maria, Berto! You know me! Help me!”

“Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!”

The damning chant pounded in your skull. Hands clawed at you, raking your skin and tearing at your clothes. You felt a hunk of your hair yanked out. A fist struck you in the face, followed by blows to the ribs and stomach. You heaved, tasting blood.

“Bring her here!” Cortez’s voice screamed out above the noise.

The mob threw you onto the ground before the bonfire. Its heat scorched your bloodied skin. One eye swelled closed, but you could still see Cortez standing above you. The firelight made him look like a daemon out of his own sermons.

You gritted your teeth and rocked up onto your knees. “Bastard! If there is someone to be blamed for all our misery, it’s you!”

His boot met the side of your head. You collapsed back into the dirt, ears ringing.

All around you, faces you recognized. Maria, whose twins you’d helped your mother deliver. Berto, who you’d spent weeks nursing through a fever. Lonzo, who had danced with you at the last midwinter festival.

You saw Marta and reached out a hand. She spit on it.

“Why?” You whispered through split lips.

If you’d made it to the Angels’ ship, if they’d told everyone how you helped, would it have even made a difference? Or would Cortez have simply waited for them to leave before he accused you?

Accused.

The priest pointed down at you.

Accused.

The crowd roared for blood.

Accused.

You felt yourself dragged upright and shoved toward the bonfire. You didn’t fight. You had no fight left.

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

You closed your eyes.

“Enough!”

Everything went silent save for the crackle of the flames. The hands released you, and you crumpled to the ground once again. You heard the familiar tread of armored feet. Then gauntleted hands lifted you gently, so very gently, and you looked into a hooded, helmeted face.

I’m safe.

The Commander towered above the cowering mob. Dimly, you heard Cortez babbling something, sounding as if he’d gone truly insane. The Commander shifted you to one arm.

You watched him reach down and lift the gibbering priest by his collar.

“Fool.”

With an almost casual flick of his arm, the Angel tossed the priest on his own bonfire.

***

You awoke to the light of dawn. You lay on a hard, metallic surface, some kind of cloth draped over your body. Confusion clouded your thoughts, and you tried to sit up.

Pain shot through every limb.

“Easy, easy now.” A voice soothed. “Here, drink this.”

Some kind of cup was brought to your lips and you drank, coughing at the acrid taste. The pain began to fade. You blinked and looked around.

An older woman knelt at your side. She was clothed in a black robe with the symbol of a canine head stitched on its shoulder. Three scars, like the mark of a claw, ridged her cheek and gave her a fearsome look.

But her eyes were kind when she smiled.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” The woman patted your shoulder with a broad, rough hand. “I’m no apothecary, but I do know how to mix the odd painkiller in a pinch. Can ye stand?”

She helped you to your feet. You looked around, realizing you stood in the belly of the ship you’d seen fly over yesterday. The Angel’s ship.

Throne, was it only yesterday?

A ramp lay open to the ground outside. Through the dawn glare, you recognized the rocky ravine. A shudder ran through you.

The woman noticed. “Aye. We’re still on your rock of a homeworld.” She spat. “Allfather curse it!”

Your head spun. “How? Why?”

She patted your shoulder. “I’m sure the Commander will explain. He’s a decent sort, for a Black Shield.” She gave you an odd, knowing smile. “I think you’ll find yer a lucky one after all.”

“I don’t-”

“Frigg!” A familiar voice bellowed. “Curse it, woman! Is the lass awake yet?”

The woman snorted and stood. “Aye, she is, m’lord!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, aye, yer lucky. Lucky the Commander picked ye instead of him.”

“Bring her out, then!”

The woman, Frigg, fussed over you. “Now, ye be a good lass and do as yer told and ye’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”

Head spinning, you staggered down the ramp. Four of the Angels stood clustered off to one side, surrounding a crate of some sort. They all looked much the same as you had seen them before. Perhaps a few more dents in their armor.

The one with the canine insignia barked a laugh as you appeared. He elbowed the one with the cross insignia, who growled under his breath.

“Waste of time.”

“Hah! Simmer down, Templar. The Commander led us to a good fight. If he wants a new little serf girl out of it, what is the harm, eh?”

Serf?

“Brother Ulfar, Brother Beren. Load the artifact onto the Thunder Hawk.”

The Commander appeared from the other side of the ship. He didn’t have his hooded cloak. With a start, you realized it was draped over your shoulders. Your face burned and you hurried down the ramp as quickly as you could, holding it out toward him.

You tripped. Yet again, he steadied you.

“Clumsy.” The word held no anger.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord. I just…I just wanted to…” you sighed, giving up. “Thank you.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed his helmet.

You almost stopped breathing. His face was a mass of scars. Metal studs of some kind dotted one side of his forehead. His lips curved in a stoic frown. You felt you should be frightened.

But his eyes…

Warm and weary and sad. They looked down into yours.

“You cannot return to your home.”

All of a sudden, everything threatened to overwhelm you. You covered your face with your hands. Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“F-forgive me, m-my Lord. I-”

“You have shown courage.”

You did not feel especially courageous in the moment. He continued.

“I would have you come with me.”

You gasped and stared up at him through the blur of tears. Brother Ulfar’s words came back to you.

“As a… a serf?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that means, my Lord.”

He explained. You would tend to his quarters and armor, cleaning, mending, and performing whatever menial work was required.

“In return, you will be fed, clothed, and educated.” He hesitated, then to your astonishment, sank to one knee. “And I swear by my oath as an Ultra- as an Astartes, I will never let you come to harm again.”

You shook your head. “Why?”

He didn’t seem to mind that you’d forgotten to add “my Lord”. “I know the pain of a false accusation. I know how deep betrayal can cut. I,” he looked almost bashful, “would spare you some of that pain, if I can.”

By the Throne, you saw empathy in those eyes. Frigg had been right. He was a decent man.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and took a deep breath. “Then I will try and serve you as best as I am able, my Lord.”

One of the corners of his mouth ticked upward. He nodded and stood, replacing his helmet.

“Follow.”

“My Lord? One more question, if I may?”

He turned back toward you.

“May I know your name?”

Another long pause. He nodded toward the other Angels.

“They know me as ‘Nullus’. In the hearing of others, you will address me as such.” You heard a long breath. “In private, you may call me Titus.”

You didn’t know what this new life would hold, and you doubted it would be easy. But one thing you were certain of.

You would follow Titus anywhere.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

Once again, please comment if you'd like to be tagged in any further work.

#warhammer 40k #demetrian titus #death watch #space marines #space marine x reader #demetrian titus x reader #they're not together yet in this fic but still...#who doesn't love the occasional damsel in distress/white knight story?

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chuckeroo777 · 4 months ago

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Laios got Eaten AU Chapters 1-52

So, I was pondering a lot (as I do), and was thinking about this AU. Here's my take on it. Sorry if my grasp on characterization isn't the best. Expect lots of Farcille.

This is mostly a plot point based summary, going chapter by chapter. If something isn't elaborated on, assume it's the same as canon.

Note: This first installment ends at the same point as the anime, but as a manga reader, there are spoilers for later in the canon story.

Edit: Wowzers, that ended up being over 4,000 words! Guess I had more to say than I thought.

This is pretty long, so I'll begin under the cut.

Chapter 1:

Unlike Laios' self deprecating take on this scenario, the rest of the team doesn't immediately give up on him. Marcille and Chilchuck are his friends, and if Falin thinks it's possible, then they're in.

Namari leaves of course, but Toshiro is more complex. He argues with Falin, trying to convince her not to embark on such a risky mission, and may accidentally frame it as Falin choosing between him and Laios. Falin, of course, picks Laios. Toshiro leaves, dejected. After feeling sorry for himself for a while, he gets his retainers and heads after her, hoping to offer backup.

Falin proposes the dungeon eating plan, having casually discussed the possibility with Laios in the past. Without the gourmet guide, she isn't as knowledgeable about monsters, but she is pretty good at identifying stuff from her days of eating weird stuff in the woods, so she can tell the walking mushroom isn't poisonous. She also manages to grab the scorpion, having messed with crayfish as a kid.

Unlike Laios, she doesn't try to eat the venom, but they still struggle, and Senshi comes in to help. Falin is very excited to have such an expert helping them out, and is happy to have him join the team.

In general, Marcille is just as squicked out by monster cuisine, but she tries to put on a brave face for Falin. In fact, her attempts to be more accepting results in her not yelling at Senshi, so the slime doesn't attack her.

Chapter 2:

They go after the man-eating plants, and things mostly go down the same. Without Laios, it takes a little longer for Falin and Senshi to figure out how to save Marcille, going for the root. Marcille gets seeds planted in her skin, but Falin is able to heal her and get them out.

Chapter 3:

Senshi takes them Basilisk hunting, and Marcille is dismayed to see Falin knows the trick for intimidating Basilisks, a sight she will not soon forget. While Senshi slices the snake, Falin caves the chicken's head in.

While Senshi prepares the Basilisk, Falin is able to use a detox spell on Doni. The two still stay to eat though.

Chapter 4:

Events mostly play out the same, though Falin is a bit more gentle in rejecting Marcille's help. Falin admits to having skipped class the day they learned about mandrake harvesting.

Chapter 5:

Chilchuck uses Falin's metal staff instead of the sword to find the passage. When they go to get the oil, Falin casts a fire-ward spell on Chilchuck, just in case. Senshi declines to take one too.

Chapter 6-7:

Without Laios' insights, they deem the living armor too dangerous after the first attempt, and take a slightly different route to the third level.

Much to Marcille's chagrin, they run into a nest of giant rats, and they end up having giant rat stir-fry instead.

Chapter 8:

Falin thinks Senshi's utilization of the golems is absolutely delightful.

Chapter 9:

Falin is rather uncomfortable with Chilchuck's suggestion to trade at the seedy bar, but doesn't argue.

Events with the orcs go more or less the same. Falin thinks Bahay is very cute.

Chapter 10:

No Kensuke, so they get ambushed by the bugs. Chilchuck gets bitten, but Falin is able to heal him.

Falin applies much better ghost wards than Marcille. In fact, she quickly realizes they are just paralyzed, and is able to heal them. Yeah, no. That would have way too big of a butterfly effect on the story. Maybe she's too distracted by the pretty bugs to notice.

Unlike Marcille, Falin thinks the centipedes are adorable. In fact, she secretly takes one and hides it in her pack to keep as a pet.

Chapter 11:

As one would expect, the ghosts are a complete non-issue. No ice cream for them.

Chapter 12-13:

No one in this party is crazy enough to bother with the living paintings. Without the delay, they are able to make camp at the level 4 entrance, bypassing the mimic.

Senshi catches some fish, and they have a very nice dinner.

Chapter 14:

Mostly the same, except instead of Laios, Senshi is saved by Falin. She has experience in such manners.

Chapter 15:

Sadly, Falin does not know the song, so they have to resort to earplugs. This leads to a silent but amusing argument where Chilchuck has to talk down Falin from eating fish-men without words. Falin does not pull the waterweed stunt.

Chapter 16:

The kraken battle is pretty much identical.

Unlike Laios, Falin has eaten calamari before, having gone to that restaurant with Marcille several times. She is very disappointed the kraken tastes bad.

Senshi cooks up the parasite, and Falin doesn't eat any raw.

Chapter 17:

No one is sick, so this chapter doesn't happen.

Chapter 18:

Marcille has a sponge bath and insists Falin take one too. Chilchuck is annoyed by their flirting, but Senshi thinks it's cute.

When the Undine attacks, Falin is able to waterwalk and help Marcille, but neither of them has particularly good magic for fighting an undine. Both are badly injured, but they manage to escape.

Falin is able to heal both of them, but they are both left very hungry, and relatively low on mana. They have a barbecue to help them recover.

Chapter 19-20:

The Tansu party arrives. Tensions aren't quite as high between Marcille and Namari, but it's still there.

After Tansu fails to pacify the Undine. the two parties agree to help each other out. First, they help get down to the tower. A well placed fireball saves Kiki from the tentacles. Sadly, without Laios' knowledge, they can't eat them, at least not as easily.

When coming up with a plan to stop the undine, the idea to trap it is brought up, and they basically use the same plan, except Namari is in on it from the start.

After killing it, Falin suggests eating it, and the two groups enjoy some kelpie stew before departing opposite ways.

Chapter 21:

More or less plays out the same. Chilchuck suggests making the suits, to which Falin enthusiastically agrees. Senshi makes froggy hash instead of pasta, since he doesn't know how to neutralize the stinging.

Marcille puts on the frog suit without complaint since Falin puts one on first.

She attempts to take it off to much complaint still.

Chapter 22:

Most identical chapter yet. Namari asks about Laios instead of Falin. That's it.

Chapter 23:

Plans are made to take down the red dragon. With Falin here, their warding spells are much better, but no Laios means Senshi is the only proper warrior. Falin is a decent fighter, and plans to join Senshi and Chilchuck on the frontline. They search the orc's storehouse and find some spears, which will hopefully be enough for the inverse scale.

They mostly come up with the same plan. Crush the dragon, then kill it.

Chapter 24-25:

The pot defenses fail, and they go ahead and crush the dragon. When the dragon emerges, Falin is able to execute the plan, stabbing the dragon as they play dead. However, she isn't able to stab deeply enough before the dragon recoils, the spear getting pulled away from her, landing some distance away.

Senshi tries to stab the dragon in the foot, but the spear breaks. Things go as they do in canon, with Senshi and Chilchuck managing to toss Falin the spear and blind the dragon in one eye.

Falin meets up with Marcille, and ends up pulling the same self-sacrificing gambit Laios did, stabbing the dragon in the throat while dangling from its mouth.

Chapter 26:

Falin falls unconscious, and has a dream about when Laios first left home, leaving her behind. And how he later promised to never leave her behind again.

Marcille still has to heal Chilchuck and Senshi herself, since Falin is in no state to do it herself. They retrieve her leg, and Falin is able to finish healing all four of them.

They begin carving into the dragon, with Senshi taking the lead. Laios' intrusive thought fun facts end up saving the day, reminding Falin about the flame sac.

Chapter 27:

Falin doesn't even bother mentioning the resurrection office, already knowing what must be done. Marcille doesn't hesitate to offer her ancient magic as the solution.

Falin is able to assuage Chilchuck's concerns a little better than Marcille did, clarifying that the ancient magic is just used to perform magic of a magnitude impossible with just natural mana. He still doesn't quite buy it, but doesn't protest further.

Putting Laios' skeleton together takes longer, since no one here is super knowledgeable about dog skeletons. They get it eventually though.

Marcille does the ritual. Falin thinks Marcille is hot when she lets her hair down like that.

Laios is revived successfully, and everyone is incredibly happy.

Chapter 28:

No bath scene. :(

Laios is incredibly curious about their journey, and is running his mouth asking questions. He is extremely excited that his monster eating idea worked, and is practically glued to Senshi for a while asking questions. Due to his presence, Senshi doesn't explode the dragon.

Marcille isn't surprised in the least by Laios' enthusiasm, and is just glad to have her friend back. They enjoy their little dragon feast, regaling Laios with their tales of monster eating.

Unlike Falin, Laios does not realize that forbidden magic was used to revive him, and apologizes profusely for abandoning Falin, even though she insists it wasn't his fault.

Chapter 29:

When Thistle summons Laios, a ghost wakes Falin up. She wakes the others, and they go looking for him.

Unlike Falin, Laios doesn't gain magical power from the dragon, instead getting an even bigger boost to his strength. Falin isn't just knocked unconscious, but is badly injured by his punch.

Not even being dominated by the mad mage can stop Laios from yapping. As he is transformed, he gives Thistle tips, causing his chimera form to be significantly more dangerous, featuring a bigger but more slender build and bigger wings, allowing him to actually fly. As well as a few other embellishments, such as tail spikes and small horns.

The ghosts save the party, and things proceed as normal.

Chapter 30:

Chilchuck's arc is mostly the same, except that it is easier to convince Falin once she wakes up. Healing the internal bleeding Laios caused took a lot out of her, and both her and Marcille are tapped of magic. They agree to return to the surface.

Chapter 31:

Literally Identical.

Chapter 32:

Kabru's deductions are mostly the same, only altered slightly due to being warded by Falin instead of Marcille.

Shuro isn't quite as haggard. Falin isn't actively dead, so he doesn't feel the need to run himself ragged. Funny enough, taking better care of himself ends up canceling things out, and he arrives at Kabru's group at about the same time.

Chapter 33:

Senshi and Chilchuck have to fight the Dryads by themselves. They use the axe instead of Kensuke. Not that Laios helped much, but the first dryad manages to attack Senshi, leaving him in much rougher shape by the end of the fight.

Thankfully, he makes a full recovery once Falin recovers some mana from the yummy pottage.

Once Falin is recovering, she suggests teleporting out of the dungeon, but Marcille flat out refuses to let Falin do that again. It's way too risky. Now that they have a source of food, mapping out the area should be simple.

Chilchuck does not escape the sex ed.

Chapter 34:

A dramatic reenactment of chapter 34:

They still need to spend several days making the map, but at least petrification isn't an issue.

Chapter 35:

The ghost warns Falin about the wyvern, and they hide in the wall, so business as usual.

When Marcille accidentally puts on the frog suit, Falin decides to put hers on too. This somehow makes Marcille more mortified, not less.

Recognizing Falin, the ninjas don't attack. Marcille is annoyed how happy Falin is to see Toshiro, considering the bad terms he split off on.

Chapter 36:

Since Falin has been enthusiastic, but not overbearing about monster food, Chilchuck chooses to go with Senshi even more easily.

Falin explains what happened to Toshiro, leaving out the ancient magic. Toshiro has no reason to think Falin wouldn't be able to revive Laios. He is happy to learn that she intends to return to the surface, and he plans to try and talk her out of returning once safe on the surface.

Kabru can tell Falin is lying about something, but remains quiet.

Chapter 37:

Even though harpies show up, everything seems to be going well, until Hien splatters on the ground. The Laigon quickly proves to be a ferocious foe, with razor sharp claws, a vicious thagomizer, and the ability to easily fly out of reach, or drop opponents from deadly heights.

Marcille didn't know that sufficient brute force could splatter an Undine to death, but apparently so.

Falin watches in horror as she can see an almost joyous look in his eyes. He would never do this of his own volition... but he clearly doesn't hate it.

When Rin grounds the Laigon with lightning, Falin steels her resolve and charges in to pummel his weak point, but he smiles and says her name.

Chapter 38:

After Kabru fails to kill him, the Laigon is too powerful, and kills Kabru before Falin can do anything. Seeing the Laigon about to attack Falin, Marcille hits it with an explosion.

Snarling, the Laigon looks like it's about to pounce at Marcille and company, causing Falin to fully freak out and unleash her strongest offensive spell, causing several massive rocky spires to erupt and impale the Laigon from below, and accidentally hitting Rin in the process.

Screaming and convulsing in pain, the Laigon takes for the sky, fleeing as fast as it can, leaving behind a thick trail of blood.

With both Falin and Holm alive, as well as Marcille not being barred from helping, the revivals go smoothly.

Toshiro ends up getting into a shouting match with Falin regarding her goal of saving Laios. Falin insists that if they defeat the mad mage, they can save him. He insists that trying to do so at this point is suicidal.

In the heat of the moment, Toshiro declares that Laios isn't even worth saving, and Falin slaps him. The conversation comes to an abrupt end, with both severely regretting their actions. Toshiro walks off to think, while Marcille comforts Falin, who seems on the verge of tears.

Toshiro ends up apologizing, saying he can't understand her decision, but he will respect it. He has Maizuru give them supplies so they can head down immediately, and gives Falin the bell.

Asebi overhears Marcille speculating with Chilchuck about the Laigon, and the possibility of the dragon's soul getting mixed in due to her revival magic.

Kabru leaves with a higher opinion of Falin than he did of Laios, because while she seemed fascinated by monsters, she wasn't as crazed about it as him. Plus she didn't offer him a harpy omelette, so that helps.

Chapter 39:

Without the living paintings, they aren't able to quite grasp the mad mage's motives, but are still hopeful that they can talk to him.

And then the shapeshifters happen.

Chilchuck's Falin is an airhead, reflecting her calm demeanor and lack of commanding presence, even though she is ostensibly the leader without Laios around.

Senshi's Falin looks just like his Laios, but with longer hair. They look identical to Senshi.

Falin's Chilchuck is colder and more even-tempered than the real Chilchuck. She appreciates his levelheadedness and maturity.

Falin's Senshi is always spouting fun facts about food and food prep, and is always smiling. Senshi reminds her a lot of her brother's passions.

At first, the group is confused. They seem to be short two fakes. But then they find Falin's Marcille and Marcille's Falin making out in one of the cells. Both are too shy to admit their feelings, but apparently their mental images aren't so shy about it.

Once obvious stuff is out of the way, and equipment has been checked, Marcille and Falin have been found, but Chilchuck's Senshi, Marcille's Chilchuck, and Falin's Chilchuck are still around.

Chapter 40:

Marcille and Falin manage to eliminate Chilchuck's Senshi, since they both get a weird feeling from it, and all three Chilchucks agree it's the right Senshi, practically confirming it to be Chilchuck's.

The Chilchucks prove much trickier, until Falin comes up with an idea. We skipped chapter 13, so Falin suggests the Chilchucks provide their age. Marcille's says 20. Falin's says 45. Chilchuck is able to explain those guesses are way off the mark, and as the only one able to give a proper explanation of half-foot age ranges, he is clearly the correct one.

With all the copies locked up, the shapeshifter gives up and goes to find other prey.

Asebi ambushes the party as normal afterwards.

Chapter 41:

There is a bit of confusion at Asebi's accusations, since Marcille never confessed to using ancient magic, but Asebi overheard her talking about how she may have blended Laios' soul with the dragon, and that is not something someone does on accident. Clearly she must have been using black magic to do something like that.

Nonetheless, Marcille agrees to break the collar's magic, and things proceed the same. Falin attacks the hag with her mace-staff, creating a messier cut, but functionally the same.

The explanation of their goals goes about the same, including Falin being rather happy to meet Izutsumi, though she's a little less weird about it, talking about how Laios was fine before the mage kidnapped him, and that hopefully he'll go back to that state of mind when saved.

Chapter 42:

In Falin's nightmare, the Laigon appears and tries to kill her, but Falin becomes lucid before it can strike.

Falin goes into Marcille's nightmare to help her. Being more experienced with this sort of thing, she is able to calm Marcille down, and cause her to become lucid, dispelling the nightmare without violating Marcille's private traumas.

They then spend the rest of the lucid dream having fun together. I'll let you decide how much those shapeshifter clones inspired their behavior.

Senshi cooks the nightmares, and much to the girls' dismay, the dream is shown for all to see. Everyone agrees not to bring it up again.

Chapter 43:

While searching the recovered packs, Falin is delighted to find the Dungeon Gourmet Guide. She was afraid it had been digested with Laios.

Note: Falin should be seeing the ghost by now, but I don't want to break up the chapter flow, so just assume the ghost got caught in ghost traffic.

Without Laios to block them, Marcille gets impaled by a few stalactites, and Falin has to tend to her. The fight goes as normal.

Izutsumi is able to undress without anyone being weird about it.

When doing the sauna thing, Chilchuck can't help but notice how closely Marcille and Falin are sitting. He tried to block the dream out of his mind, but it's clear that now that the feelings are out in the open, that's just how they're going to act from now on. He just hopes this doesn't cause any issues.

Chapter 44:

Falin finds the boiled mandrake quite tasty, and so doesn't question it when Izutsumi gives her a second.

When arguing over dinner, Falin is just as baffled as Izutsumi regarding the Barometz. As they run over, she flips through the guide, discovering the potential danger a few seconds too late.

Izutsumi and Marcille run off to do their thing. Falin panics and does something dumb. She starts barking. She isn't as good as Laios, but it's enough to scare off the wolves. Chilchuck isn't even surprised at this point.

Chapter 45:

Pretty much goes the same. Toshiro plans to report the Chimera, at least so people know to be wary, and Falin is just as careless with the bell as Laios.

As they eat their eggs, the ghost finally catches up and Falin is happy to chat.

Chapter 46:

Our party arrives in the golden country. Falin wants to check out the monster corrals, just like Laios, but while he was ecstatic about minotaur milking, Falin is much more charmed by the opportunity to pet the basilisk chicks.

Falin becomes extremely flustered at the sight of Marcille in a pretty dress. Unlike Laios, Izutsumi lets her pet her.

Since minotaur was not requested, they are served basilisk cordon bleu.

Sadly, the running joke of turning ghosts into ice cream is dead.

"One shall come who bears a staff of living wood." With Laios out of the picture, Marcille is the lion's next choice of champion.

Marcille really isn't sure what to think about this. Her? Become new queen of the land?

She ultimately gives no conclusive answer, but the possibility of gaining dominion over this land where no one ever dies is tempting.

Marcille and Falin share the double bed, while Chilchuck gets the single bed to himself. At least until Izutsumi curls up on him.

Chapter 47:

Breakfast goes smoothly, and they head back into the dungeon.

Things in the cistern go mostly the same, though Falin also thinks the griffon is Laios. Senshi doesn't panic until the griffon actually appears.

Chapter 48:

Marcille puts her plan into action, and Falin carries her.

With the second familiar, Falin suggests shaping it like a dragonfly, since they are very fast and agile. It isn't as fast as the wyvern, but it dodges a lot easier. The third familiar is still sky fish.

Once the griffon is defeated, Falin suggests eating the sky fish. Marcille objects, but she can't say no to Falin's smile.

And Senshi shares his story.

Chapter 49:

Unlike Laios, Falin doesn't push Senshi to try the griffon. She suggests cooking it, since they don't want to waste good food, but Senshi doesn't have to try it if he doesn't want to.

Senshi decides to go for it. You can decide if he's traumatized further, or if changelings follow logic, and meat without any spores on it (since it was cut from inside the griffon), and was then "washed" by turning it into soup turns back into hippogriff. Senshi tastes the "griffon" soup, and is immeasurably relieved.

Changlings are a lot of fun, but they sure open some plot holes. By all accounts, it should have reverted to hippogriff soup.

Look, this is my silly what-if AU, things don't have to be perfect.

Chapter 50:

Falin is a dwarf now. She sucks at magic, but now she can really smash some heads in.

Falin thinks half-foot Marcille is adorable. Marcille isn't sure what to think of dwarf Falin.

When they reach the door, Falin is surprised when her pet pearlipede crawls out unbidden and unlocks the door.

Despite the disadvantages, Falin's mace proves super-effective against the gargoyles, managing to defeat one, but tiring out while one is still left. They flee through the door.

Now that the party knows she has it (and that it's oddly useful), Falin starts wearing her pet as a bracelet.

While preparing dumplings, Falin ponders if maybe the griffon wasn't actually a griffon, but Chilchuck shuts her down before she can accidentally re-traumatize Senshi.

Chapter 51:

Falin notices Marcille's strong adverse reaction to the news that half-foots only live fifty years, but doesn't say anything.

Falin suggests the possibility of using the changelings on Laios, though unlike him, she doesn't consider that the two halves might change separately. She just imagines them turning the whole Laigon into a gnome or something.

When the last gargoyle arrives, Falin's staff gets knocked out of her grasp, and thrown by the gargoyle.

They use the knowledge from the transformed staff to defeat the last gargoyle. Sadly, Marcille does not get to fly.

Falin washes her staff.

Chapter 52:

Senshi grows curious and asks about Laios. Falin talks about how Laios always had trouble fitting in, and it wasn't until he started dungeon diving that he finally seemed able to make friends and be happy. Falin had dropped out of magic school because she didn't want Laios to be alone.

Marcille starts crying and clinging to Falin. She talks about how she used to hate Laios. But as they adventured together, he became like a brother to her. Falin starts crying too. Izutsumi sits by Chilchuck to avoid all the tears.

Senshi proposes his bacon and eggs plan. Falin can't find any issue with his reasoning, and thinks its a great idea, but Chilchuck points out how long it will take to eat that much meat. They start making plans for the foreseeable future.

Thistle tries to stop the Laigon from eating a walking mushroom, but is unsuccessful.

Chapters 53-85

Chapter 86-Finale

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #manga spoilers #anime spoilers #spoilers #falin touden #laios touden #marcille donato #farcille #alternate universe #role swap au #Laios got Eaten #dungeon meshi fanfic #fanfic #chimera laios

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take-it-on-the-run · 21 days ago

Text

Rosyln

Dean Winchester x FreshlyTurned!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Something to get the three of you back on your feet after a year of thinking Sam was dead and no contact between you and Dean.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Vampirism, the reader is turned, angst, hurt/comfort, soulless Sam is slacking, blood, vivid descriptions of smell and pain, vomiting, illness comfort, Samuel Campbell (yes he is a warning he sucks), brief mention of the reader killing Dean

Characters: Dean Winchester, Soulless!Sam Winchester, FreshlyTurned!Reader, Samuel Campbell

Anonymous requested: "hi <3 wasn’t sure if I could request this or not, feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable doing it, but can I request a hurt/comfort fic with dean :) like patching up an injury or smth, thank you !!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Bon Iver + St. Vincent title. Okay, I'm going to preface this by saying this went a little off the rails from what the request asked for, and I hope that this is still generally within the realm of hurt/comfort. Thank you for the request anon, and if you don't think I quite hit the mark, I'm sorry. Other than the haywire writing, this was a ton of fun to write, and made me brush up on my season six lore. Every mistake is my own, heed the tags, and enjoy!

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood ran down your chest and stomach, coupled with a hot, searing pain that pulsated from the side of your neck.

The barn you were in was slipping in and out of vision as you tried to focus on a small crack that ran through a few of the ceiling boards.

The reality of your life coming to an end in a barn on the outskirts of a small Midwest town crashed down on you.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt.

Something to get the three of you back on your feet after a year of thinking Sam was dead and no contact between you and Dean.

Rush the vamp nest, take them out, and torch the place for good measure.

It was a fairly simple plan, given the things you three had gone through over the past years. Ghosts, demons, and the damn devil himself. A plan that would’ve gone through perfectly if Sam followed through on his end.

You were supposed to go through one of the top windows, Dean through the front, and Sam the back.

You found two vamps up in the loft, swiftly cutting through the head of one before the other kicked you straight through the loft’s railing, landing on your back a floor below.

Before you could get to your feet, he was on top of you, yanking the machete in your hands and throwing it across the room. He brought his grotesque mouth to your neck, all sharp needles made of bone. The metallic smell of blood caked to the back of his teeth wafted over your senses.

You could feel the muscles in your neck drawing taught as his teeth attempted to rip out the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder. You tried pushing him off, but the harder you pushed, the more his jaw would close. The only thing stopping him from ripping your throat clean open was Dean running behind him and holding the vampire’s mouth open like a wild animal.

Through your drowning ears, you could hear Dean yelling for Sam to come kill the monster on top of you, but no such relief came.

You didn’t know where Sam was, but you knew Dean had a choice to make.

Either let the vampire’s jaw go, letting him yank your throat apart as he scrambled for a weapon to kill it, or continue yelling for his brother who was yet to be found.

Your eyes met his briefly through the struggle of his vice grip on your attacker. You could see confusion, followed by regret, flash in his eyes; like you were telling him it was one way or the other.

As strong as Dean was, you knew that he wasn’t strong enough to wait for Sam and still have the energy to hold the vampire on you.

He knew it, too.

You closed your eyes when you saw his hands starting to move away from the vampire’s jaw before they slipped off and he was out of your sight.

You didn’t blame him. It was a tough call to make, and if the roles were reversed, you were sure you’d make the same choice.

That’s the life, after all.

You were barely conscious enough to recognize Dean dragging you away to prop you up against a wall with a grunt. You heard the rotting door of the barn get kicked open, and you blinked your eyes open enough to see Sam finally make an appearance with the med kit that you stashed in the Impala.

“Where the hell were you,” Dean spit at his brother with venom. You heard Sam’s voice, but the words were garbled and you couldn’t put together what he was saying.

Your voice rattled a moan without your control, like a ghastly breath escaping your lungs in an attempt to cling to life. Their voices came to a hush as Dean returned to kneeling at your side.

“Hey, hey sweetheart,” his hand cupped the side of your face while the other remained pressed harshly on the gaping wound in your neck, “I need you to focus on me. Just keep your eyes on me, everything’s gonna be alright.”

You knew you were at the end of your blood tank; in reality, it was a miracle you were still awake at all.

Fuck.

You moved your jaw, Dean’s hand riding on the side of your neck in an attempt to keep the wound covered.

In no human realm should you be awake or alive in this moment.

But, as Sam shoved thick pads of gauze into Dean’s hands, you felt the world stop as a new smell cut through the one of your blood.

A deep, unsatiated hunger, as if you hadn’t eaten since the moment you were born, dawned on your tongue. It didn’t pile in your stomach like normal hunger; it coursed through your body, wracking you with the urge to find the source of the smell.

Dean.

The smell was coming from Dean.

You forced yourself away from him, kicking against the rickety floor of the barn as he looked at you in shock.

“What are you doing? You’re going to bleed out, please, I know it hurts, but…” his words died in his mouth as you slowly stood to your feet, feeling around the site of the wound. Your hand moved on your skin, slipping in your blood but not dipping against the gaping holes you knew should’ve been there.

“I need you two to back up away from me, please.” You stated as calmly as you could. Something was clicking in your jaw, and you guessed it was the new teeth forcing their way through your gums.

The two of the brothers stepped away, Sam a little faster than Dean, as you dug your nails into a wooden beam to stop your feet from moving.

You watched them from a distance, whispering to each other with occasional glances your way.

Dean took a step towards you, his hands in front of him cautiously as you firmly planted your feet to the ground.

“Sam says he and Samuel may know how to deal with this, he thinks they might have a cure. I’m going to grab the guy that turned you,” he turned to the body slowly, keeping eye contact with you, “and we’ll need you to come with us. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You craned your neck to look around before your eyes were burned with the light creaking through the walls. It burned like the sun had come down to Earth and set it on fire, swirling up to your brain and distorting your thoughts.

“Dean,” you heaved out, planting your hands firmly over your eyes, “I don’t think-” your brain felt too light to form more words. Everything was too bright, too fast, too much.

Your body buckled at your hips as you heard one of the pair approach you. Hands lightly pressed at the backs of your legs, and you were swept off your feet.

When you woke up, you were sat upright in a chair, alone in one of the many rooms of the Campbell’s compound. You recognized it as one of the rooms dedicated to the many monsters the Campbell family took in; the barred door locked from the outside.

You gasped, holding back a gag as you tasted your rancid breath.

“Y/N?” You heard someone call out your name from down the hall, and you scrambled to the bars, wrapping your hands around them.

“Dean?” You called out with a weak voice. The owner of the voice turned down the hallway, revealing Dean’s broad figure walking swiftly to you.

He knelt in front of the bars, gaze sweeping over you, taking in your ragged appearance.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and steady. “How are you feeling?”

You laughed bitterly. “Like something chewed me up and spit me out.” The words felt strange coming out of your mouth, as if each syllable scraped against your throat, raw and foreign. You tightened your grip on the bars, the metal cold against your clammy skin.

Dean nodded slowly, glancing down the hallway where Sam and Samuel’s muffled voices were discussing… something. Something about a cure. A way out of this. But you could tell by Dean’s face that the chances weren’t great.

“Listen, they’re working on it,” he said. “Sam and Samuel think they might be able to stop this, to reverse it somehow. You just have to hang in there.”

You met his gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of certainty, anything that might give you hope. “And if they can’t?” Your voice was softer than you’d meant, but you had to ask. The hunger clawing at your insides was getting stronger, more insistent, and it terrified you more than anything else.

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against the bars. “Then we deal with it.”

You felt a shudder run through you, half from fear and half from the hunger that twisted your insides at the scent of his blood. “Dean… you don’t get it.” You tried to explain the gnawing feeling, how you could practically taste his blood just by being this close. “I’m not safe, not like this.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll find a way to make you safe. Whatever it takes.”

Just then, Sam and Samuel came down the hall, carrying an ancient-looking book and a glass filled with a thick red liquid. You guessed it had blood in it, by the smell, but various other scents in the drink made you want to double over. Dean turned, his face hardening as he looked at them.

Sam cleared his throat, glancing at you behind the bars. “We… we think this might work. The cure’s based on a blood transfusion from the vampire that turned you, mixed with some ingredients Samuel and the family found.” He met your eyes, his expression somber, with a blankness in his eyes. “It’s gonna hurt. A lot. But if you can make it through… there’s a good chance we can turn you back.”

With a nod, you stepped away from the door, allowing Samuel to unlock it with a key he pulled from his pocket. Dean stared at you intensely as Sam crossed the threshold into the cell. He handed you the cup and quickly stepped back out of the room.

Before either Sam had a chance to close the door again, Dean stepped in.

“What are you doing?” Samuel asked, creaking open the door so Dean would have the chance to leave.

“If this has the chance to kill her, I think we owe her enough to not let her die alone in a cell like some damn dog,” Dean said harshly.

Sam looked as if he was going to say something, but Samuel silently closed the door and locked it.

“Dean,” you groaned out, the ache of your new sharp teeth erupting past your gums making it hard to speak, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know you, and I know that out of all of us, you’d be the one with the most control to not eat me alive.” He said wryly, sitting against the wall opposite of you as you leaned against it.

You smiled despite the pain radiating throughout your body. The drink in your hand smelled like blood mixed with something bitter that sat in the back of your throat. You looked a Dean for a moment, before raising the cup a little in a ‘cheers’ motion and starting to slam the liquid down.

It burned like the first time you drank booze, but there was no warm and fuzzy feeling when you finished. You coughed roughly, dropping the cup and leaning over to sputter your inside up. Dean moved to you within a second, hand holding your hair out of the way as you finally opened your eyes to see what was escaping you.

Blood.

Blood shot from your lips over and over, the only relief found in the form of Dean’s hand gently rubbing your back as your body purged the vampirism straight from you.

You didn’t know how long you spent ridding the disease from your body, but it was long enough to create a puddle of blood that soaked into the jeans you were wearing. You brought your nose away from the smell, not realizing that the hunger in you had finally stilled. Every inch of your body was stretched and burning, but the smell that Dean carried with him was finally gone.

He leaned back against the wall again, bringing you against his chest as he whispered near-silent words of encouragement and comfort. The two of you sat in that cell for what seemed like an eternity, not bothering to call out for anyone to let the two of you out.

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lala-blahblah · 2 months ago

Text

Character flaws that would have been more compelling for Will to have to overcome in TSATS instead of "uh oh my boyfriend is a little bit edgy and that came as an unexpected shock to me even though he wears black and has emo bangs":

Struggling with setting boundaries and being honest when things bother him. As a healer he always has to put other people first, it would be interesting to see him approaching a relationship the same way where he feels the instinct to put Nico's feelings and wellbeing above his own, following him into Tartarus even though it is extra hard for him as a child of Apollo to be down there. It feels so much more authentic for Will to keep quiet about his negative thoughts rather than to blurt out all these criticisms about the underworld. And then Nico could feel hurt that he's hiding something from him for the drama, and Will could grow by allowing himself to communicate better even if he has negative things he wants to talk about

Fear of abandonment but ground it more with his real experiences instead of him just randomly panicking about Nico leaving him behind. Michael and Lee both died and left him alone after he got close with them. His dad was generally distant his whole life, he finally got to spend time with him but only under dangerous circumstances and all too soon hes gone again. Will's mom was the only constant in his life but after monsters started attacking he had to live at camp away from her for most of the year. This results in generalized superstition and anxiety that every time he has a good thing the universe takes it away from him, maybe it makes it harder for him to allow himself to get attached in a deeper way. It would be interesting to see him being the one that was more upfront with his emotions and about liking Nico at the beginning, but as their relationship goes on he struggles with more serious things like saying I love you or imagining a future together because he feels like once he does it will be taken away.

Flip the TSATS struggle on it's head and have Will secretly be very into all the dark underworld stuff but feel like he has to repress that because it's weird and people judge him. Being a healer is already a little dark and intense, I feel like Will wouldn't be scared of the undead but somewhat fascinated. Like you're telling me he wouldn't love to examine a walking skeleton and see how the bones move and connect? Growing up as a son of Apollo everyone expected him to be sunshiney and positive and so he tried to hide his weirder interests but oh my GOD he has so many questions for Nico about underworld magic and it's so hard to play it off. You could still emphasize the yin and yang of Nico having lightness and Will having darkness but make it feel less judgemental to Nico this time

Basically I just take it as a personal offense that Will would ever be critical of Nico's sarcasm and grunge aesthetics. HE'S INTO IT!!! HE HAS A THING FOR EDGY MEN OK!!! THIS IS THE GUY WHO SAID HE WOULD GO ON A DATE WITH DARTH VADER just you TRY and tell me that prequels Anakin was not his bi awakening and the blueprint for all his future crushes.

#tsats #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #pjo #let will solace be EDGY 2k24

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starrylayle · 1 year ago

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no it's not "forced diversity", you just hate seeing minority leads.

I really didn't want to comment on this, but as someone who has recently rediscovered monster high and loves the new show, I've seen so much criticism that isn't exactly...constructive?

I've seen a lot of people say that making Frankie non-binary is 'forced', 'lazy' and 'uninspired', when that is just simply not true?? Let's unpack their character for a moment. They are made of a ton of different dead body parts, some male and some female. If you were to use the 'biology excuse' it wouldn't even make sense in this context -- they literally have male and female organs!! Also alot of nonbinary people feel as though they have lots of parts to themselves,, what better way to portray that than through a monster character struggling with the same thing? It's literally such a cool allegory!! Creators have been using magic/fantasy to describe/symbolise real world issues and feelings for ages,, why is it such a big deal creators do this for more marginalised people. [also,, the orginal Frankenstein creature was heavily queer coded in the first place so its a sweet easter egg).

I also see people say,, 'oh why couldn't they just have made a new character be non-binary instead of changing the pronouns of a former one'. I hate this argument so much because it sounds like it's in good faith, but really what they're trying to say is "stay away from my white cishet characters and go make one of the irrelevant side characters queer or or just make a whole new show starring them that I have no interest in watching'. Just admit you don't want to see queer characters as leads.

I also think that sometimes cishet ppl (or non-marginalised ppl in general but i've mostly been seeing an attack on the queer characters hence the example) forget that we also grew up watching monster high?? and related to the characters?? And we would be so excited if we saw our favourite characters with similar traits to us?? Like sheesh,, cishet ppl have so much representation like let us have this pls 😭 😭

Actually speaking of representation in Monster High, g1 was already pretty diverse and inclusive, and its nice to see g3 follow in its legacy and become even more inclusive as times change! Like, they really said 'fuck you' to all the conservatives and included a drag queen character, a non-binary main character, autistic side character and so many more!! It makes me so happy to see and its probably why its one of my comfort show rn amidst the rise of the anti-lgbt rhetoric, especially concerning children's media.

So respectfully, to all those people claiming that the new monster high is "forced diversity" --- fuck you xxx

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hopingforrainydays · 2 years ago

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birth of the bone-breaker | general kirigan

pairing: general kirigan x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of blood and gore

word count: 2.3k

summary: soft times with the darkling as he comforts a traumatized grisha; in other words, a story in which a healer becomes something else and finds solace in the shadow summoner

author’s note: so so excited for shadow and bone season two. this one has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, and i’m happy to finally share it with y’all!

requests are open!

You were dragged through the palace gates at Os Alta, your limp form tugged forward--and held up--by the red-clad Grisha on either side of you. You barely registered their forceful motions, keeping your chin tucked into your chest. It was sodden with dirt, blood, and what could only be assumed to be some other form of bodily matter. But that wasn’t a bother. You barely registered that either.

It had been a long enough journey, but you had not fought the Grisha hauling you by horse, carriage, and on foot. You weren’t a fighter by nature, and even so, any of the adrenaline that flowed through your veins had ebbed away. Besides, you deserved whatever they had planned for you. The iron grip of the Corporalniks prevented any attempt of a struggle. The black detailing of their keftas marked them as Heartrenders; they could take the air from your lungs or crush your heart in a matter of moments.

But you could do the same, couldn’t you?

The shadow of the Little Palace loomed over you, and yet your gaze did not falter from its focus on your muddied feet. It was the only thing grounding you to this moment, no matter how you wished to glance upon the palace one last time. Once inside, you found small purchase on the smooth marble floors, the tips of your toes tripping at the quick pace set by your companions. A part you, deep inside, was apologetic of the mess you were bound to leave behind: muddy, bloodied footprints.

It wouldn’t be your first mess.

The First Army soldiers flanking the grounds had kept their hands on the trigger of their rifles and any Grisha that now flock through the halls followed your every movement, hands clasped in front of them. The dark forms of the oprichniki walked ahead, leading you to your doom. A strategic hold on your arms forced your hands to be kept apart.

You understood, in part, their caution. It still pained you. The presumption that the Grisha--your family--looked at you as though you were a monster clogged your eyes with tears.

Saints, you deserved whatever awaited you.

The Grisha soldiers brought you to the end of the hall. Ornate double-doors pushed open, and you were marched to the center of the large room. The bruising hold on your biceps ceased, causing you to fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap. You caught yourself against the ground, eyes trained on your bloodied fingertips. Your fingers folded into tight fists, the jagged edge of your fingernails cutting into your palms. You winced at the throbbing pain, but dug your fingertips further into the soft flesh. In the wild panic that rose in your throat, in the unsurety of the future, and in the potential meeting of your gruesome fate, you found that it was the one thing that reassured you.

“What is this?” The voice came from in front of you. It was cold and calculating, and one that you faintly recognized from your years spent training at the Little palace. General Kirigan.

“Forgive us, moi soverennyi. It’s a matter of grave importance,” said one of the Heartrenders. From what you could tell, they were stood not far behind you. Ready, in case you were to attack.

There was a shuffle of feet behind you. One of the Grisha, a Squaller, stepped forward. Her voice cracked as she said, “We were meant to deliver a few supplies to the Second Army regiment posted outside Chernast. When we arrived, they were–” she paused, taking in a shaky breath. She whispered, more to herself than anyone else, “Saints, they were all dead.”

“Except for them,” the other Heartrender spat. There was a sharp tug to your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a yelp, wild eyes meeting the cool stare of your general. “We found this one near the Fjerdan border, not far from the rest.”

“Release her.”

“General, you should know it was a massacre.”

“Release her.”

The hand in your hair released. Your head slumped forward, a throbbing pain forming at the back. General Kirigan stepped toward you, his finger reaching out to lift your chin. You flinched. He hesitated, the finger hanging in the air for a moment before retracting entirely. Instead, he crouched, his eyes now level with your own.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softer now than when he spoke to his soldiers.

“Our best guess is drüskelle-”

“I wasn’t asking you,” the general snapped at the Heartrender. He turned his attention back to you, waiting patiently for your response.

You shook your head back and forth, frantic. The memories of the attack had plagued your mind throughout your journey from Chernast to Os Alta, but you were always quick to shove them away. You didn’t want to remember.

The general’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His dark eyes roamed your indiscernible features, watching as your eyes darted to look at the Grisha beside you. With a frown, he rose to his feet.

“Leave us.”

One of the Corporalniks made a noise of disagreement, but with one look from their general, quieted. The remaining Grisha left the room in slow, hesitant movements, as if they thought General Kirigan would change his mind. With a final bow, the Squaller closed the door behind her.

There was a tense silence as you remained on the floor and the general leant back against the round table. You were afraid to move, though most of the stress in your muscles had eased at the near-isolation.

“Can you stand on your own?”

You didn’t respond.

“Are you injured? I’ll send for a Healer.”

“No,” you were quick to dismiss the idea. The voice that left you did not feel like your own; it was rough as sandpaper, and a lot louder than you intended. Noticing the general’s taken-aback-expression, you were quick to whisper an explanation. “The blood isn’t mine.”

With a sigh, he moved towards you. He reached his hand out in front of you, mindful to keep his movements slow and stay a respectful distance away. You eyed his hand before placing your palm into his own.

He turned it over, brushing his thumb over the deep crescent marks left by your fingernails. A trail of blood ran from them down to your wrist. The look he gave you had your face burning in childish embarrassment, as if you were getting scolded by a parent.

“You’ll visit the infirmary later. I’ll have a servant come to clean you up, lest you’re hiding anymore injuries.”

You wanted to scoff at his choice of words. A small mark of self-mutilation was hardly an injury, and would never compare to the harm you brought to those in Chernast. Instead, you settled on a frown. He hoisted you to your feet and set you straight. As he moved to leave, you caught his arm.

“Wait,” you said. He looked at you expectantly, and you found yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure where you were going with this, but the idea of being left alone terrified you. The idea of being left alone with one of the servants terrified you even more. You wanted to believe it was because of the looks the other Grisha had given you upon your arrival--distrust, discomfort, and horror. You would never admit it, but you knew the true reason: you weren’t afraid of what they’d do to you, but of what you’d do to them. “Stay.”

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat, pulling away from the powerful man. It was foolish, you were foolish. You leaned against the table, propping yourself up with both arms. The strength it took to hold yourself up became too much, though, and your arms trembled with exertion.

General Kirigan reached out to catch you, balancing your weight on his forearms. He didn’t say anything, didn’t react to your request, or reprimand you for being so forward. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back, supporting a majority of your weight as you leaned into his side.

He mumbled encouragements as he led you to a side room, resting you against the cool surface of a sink. You observed the new environment, the realization that he had brought you into his washroom dawning on you. The room was large enough, with a tub seated in the center. General Kirigan was beside it, turning the handle to allow water to pour from the faucet. As the tub filled to a level of his liking, he set out a variety of soaps and sponges off to a table on the side.

He took a few tentative steps in your direction, as though he were approaching a wild animal. Maybe he was. He gestured to the door you had entered through. “I’ll be in the other room.”

With a flustered expression, he shut the door behind him. It took you a while to get the motivation to move, to make any progress toward the bath. The ruined garments decorating your body would not budge under your trembling fingertips, so you eased into the tub fully-clothed. The water was scorching hot against the exposed parts of skin, but as you adjusted, you found that you preferred it. The bitter cold of the Fjerdan border still bit into your skin, so you welcomed the hot pain.

Cold. Chernast. Pain. Burn. The connection formed before you could stop it, and you were plagued by the memories from days before. You whimpered, curling into a fetal position. You remembered your weak attempts at healing the fatal injuries that littered the bodies of your fallen friends; the Fjerdan warriors charging you, axes raised to cut you down; the burning rage as your hands moved in ways they never had before; Fjerdan blood mixing with Grisha as it splattered into the snow.

The rap of knuckles against the door startled you out of your trance. The general’s voice sounded from the other side, “Is it okay to come in?”

You froze. Had it really been that long?

The door creaked open. He stepped into the room, his eyes finding yours. He let out an exasperated sigh at your state: curled in the tub, clothed, the water barely warm, and skin still dirty. His figure disappeared into the other room, bringing back with him a wooden chair.

He took a seat by the tub, reaching forward. His hands rested on your shoulders, smoothing over the fabric as his fingers moved to work at the buttons of your ruined kefta. The general was close enough now for you to smell him. A whirl of musk and spice filtered through your nose. You inhaled deeply, the scent strangely calming you.

The rest of your layers were stripped from your skin, and he folded the garments--Saints know why; they were beyond the help of any Fabrickator. You were left in a loose shirt and pants. The muck and grime caking your skin itched, and it took everything in you not to scrape it off. Your fingernails dug into the fat of your calves, jabbing through the thin material of your pants. You curled further into yourself, head rested against your knees. The pain brought you to the present, and it was all you could do to focus on that.

“What did this to you?” the general asked, rolling up his sleeves. He rubbed a bar of soap against a damp towel until the suds grew to his liking. He pressed the cloth to the skin of your hands, gently rubbing away the grime.

It was a different way of asking what happened, with an implication that you were not the cause. If only he knew that you were. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“You’re a Heartrender, no? You must remember the attack.”

“I’m a Healer.”

The confession stalled his movements. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he continued his work in the silence that followed.

“I do,” you whispered, after a moment. “I do remember.”

Kirigan didn’t say anything. He glared at the bruises marking your arms from the Heartrenders’ grip.

“Fjerdan warriors attacked in the night. We never saw them coming. There was so much blood, so many bodies.”

“But you weren’t one of them.”

“No. I was trying to help those still alive. Heal them, if I could. Saints, at that point I was saving them just for them to die again.” You swallowed, thick and teary-eyed. “One of them found me, in the midst of it all. He pinned me to the ground. I saw the axe raise. And I just…panicked.”

By now, Kirigan had moved to cleaning your face. He dabbed carefully at your forehead.

“My hands were on his chest, and I felt every bone in his body break.”

You were disgusted with yourself. You were a Healer, not a Heartrender. It was your chosen specialization because you could not stand the thought of causing another person pain–you wanted to help. And yet here you were, one massacre later.

His finger smoothed the crease of your brows. “That sounds like self defense to me.”

“It could’ve been. If I hadn’t hunted down every warrior after that.” He gestured for you to stand. A fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders, soaking in the sopping wet material of your clothes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked as you stepped from the tub.

“Taking care of me.”

“Someone needed to.”

“You didn’t have to.”

A pregnant pause. You thought you may have overstepped or offended him. He pulled you close by the towel on your shoulders, fingers gripping the sides of your jaw. His thumb rubbed against your cheek. “I did. I know what it’s like to feel like the monster.”

“General–”

“Kirigan. Just Kirigan.”

“Kirigan.” You smiled, if only a small one, for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

buy me a coffee

#general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #the darkling x reader #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #general kirigan #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #grisha #shadow and bone x reader #general kirigan one shot #kirigan one shot #the darkling one shot

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fanfictiongirlie · 27 days ago

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Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Five

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,054

I messed up. Big time.

We went to Denali to have a break, enjoy ourselves. Taste a different kind of animal blood. However, I messed up.

I drank human blood. I was out hunting, and someone was off the usual hiking trail, they were hurt. And I wasn't strong enough. I killed them, and tasted human blood, it had been 50 years since I had tried human blood.

It took Emmett, Jasper and Edward to hold me down and drag me back to Tanya's house. I left for home the next day. I hated myself, big time. I looked like a monster. My eyes were red, they haven't been red in so long.

I haven't faced Paul yet, it had been a month since I had last seen him. And I've been avoided him. Big time.

My family, despite all the jokes and caring words, I could tell they were disappointed. Except maybe Jasper. I think he is kind of happy it wasn't him who slipped up. On a good note, I had caught up on my reading list.

I sighed putting my book down and going downstairs, it was Bella's birthday today and Alice was throwing a party once they had finished school.

Carlisle and Esme smiled and at me and handed me a white cup with a straw, I grimaced, and took a sip. Mountain lion blood, gross. I finished the cup quick though, it made my throat burn, and I felt like I was going to throw the blood up.

"How are you feeling today Y/N?" Rosalie asked, I smiled and shrugged.

"Will you be staying for Bella's party?" Esme asked.

"I'm not sure" I answered, I haven't seen a human since the incident.

"I think you should, It would be good for you" Carlisle said, I nodded. Okay, guess I was going. I hadn't even got Bella a present.

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

"Happy Birthday Bella" Esme smiled, hugging Bella. She looked so uncomfortable, I felt the same. Her blood was making my nose burn.

Alice added my name to the present from Rosalie and Emmett, which was nice. I wasn't exactly able to go to the shops. Bella avoided me more, which was nice of her I guess. I suppose my eyes were a bit scary at the moment.

Bella opened her presents, I smelted it before she said it, a paper cut. I could smell her blood trickling out of her finger. I felt Rosalie holding my arm so I couldn't move, however everyone was focused on me attacking. Jasper rushed forward, his fangs bearing.

Edward stupidly pushed Bella back onto the glass cabinet, which cut more of her body, meaning more blood.

"Rose, I can't" I whisper. She nodded, grabbing my arm and yanking me backwards, away from the drama. Emmett, Edward and Carlisle were trying to wrestle Jasper to the ground.

Rosalie took my out of the room, and dragged me out of the house.

I was in the woods now, I could only just smell Bella's blood.

"You're okay" Rose said, her hands still on my arms.

Everyone but Carlisle and Bella joined us outside. Jasper looked so broken.

"At least we didn't eat her" I joked, no one laughed.

-----------

After Edward took Bella home, we had a family meeting.

"It's time to leave again" Carlisle frowned. "Y/N, you may want to tell Paul"

I sighed.

"That's if he wants to speak to me"

"You're his imprint"

I cut Esme off form speaking.

"I'm also a vampire, and I killed someone, how could he ever forgive me" I sighed.

"You have to speak to him to find out" Alice smiled.

I nodded, agreeing. I got ready and put one some sunglasses.

I left the house and ran to the treaty line, taking a deep breath I stepped over, and walked towards Sam's house. I wasn't sure where else he would be. And I wasn't about to search the whole beach. It was also slightly sunny today, so I didn't need to been seen sparkling by humans.

I reached Sam and Emily's house and knocked the door. I'm sure they already knew I was here. I knew Paul was here too, I could smell his blood.

Paul opened the door and smiled.

"Where have you been?" He asked, taking a deep breath and hugging me. It felt so nice, to be hugged this tightly.

"I missed you, come meet everyone?" He said, pulling away.

"I shouldn't" I whisper. "I need to tal-"

But Paul caught me off by kissing me.

"Dude, kissing a vampire?" A boy yelled from behind. Paul pulled away and laughed. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. Suddenly I felt really uncomfortable.

"Guys, this is Y/N" He smiled, I already knew Sam and Emily, but there was another boy here too.

"This is Jared" Paul smiled, he hadn't taken his hand away from mine.

"Why are you still wearing these" He chuckled, and grabbed my sunglasses before I could stop him. Fuck.

Paul's hand wasn't on mine anymore. He wasn't anywhere near me anymore.

"Why are your eyes red?" Paul hissed. Looking at me with anger. I could feel how angry he felt, he was sickened by me.

"Paul, my family and I are leaving" I whispered, looking down.

"Good"

I looked up, shocked. It was like whiplash. Feeling his love, and then all of the sudden feeling this hatred.

"I just wanted to say goodbye to you" I say, stepping forward. He stepped further away from me.

"Just leave, you're not welcome here, leech" Paul spat. I nodded, feeling hurt and a pain in my chest.

I left and ran home, I was a little scared they would wolf out and kill me. I got home, and packed my things, and packed a few books, and loaded my car up.

"I'll catch up to wherever you go" I smile sadly to Carlisle. I hugged them all and left. I got into my car and started driving.

Not sure where I'm going to go, maybe a different country, I'm not too sure yet.

It hurt, I could feel the distance between me and Paul. It was weird feeling things in my heart after so long of nothing.

I'd have to learn to get over it, I'm sure Paul was going to try too.

Previous Part - Next Part

#paul lahote x reader #fluff #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #paul lahote #twilight #vampire fic #werewolf fic

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sweetvoidstuff · 10 months ago

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Whispers in the Wasteland Part 1 II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, you and Hyun Su reconnect during a scavenger run, with unspoken tensions from the past lingering. A fragile connection blossoms through shared vulnerability, leading to a quiet understanding and healing in the desolate landscape.

Part 2: In the soft dawn light, Hyun Su awakens in your post-apocalyptic hideout, discovering your caring gestures and the comforting routine you've maintained. As the outside world's harsh reality fades away, the haven of your kitchen becomes a sanctuary, a refuge from the echoes of destruction, forging a deep connection between you and Hyun Su in the midst of desolation.

Masterlist

The eerie silence of the post-apocalyptic world was shattered by the clinking of scavenged supplies as you and Hyun Su reconnected during a scavenger run. Emotions swirled in the air, thick with the weight of the past year apart. Hyun Su, unable to hide his relief, began visiting your hideout regularly after you invited him but never stayed long, his presence a familiar balm in the harsh reality of survival, always offering help with necessary items, if not for you, at least with you.

As he assisted with supply runs, the unspoken tension of your previous parting hung in the air. Hyun Su, haunted by the ghosts of his past behaviors, sought to make amends. "Why don’t you stay? It’s getting late. You can always have the couch if you want," you suggested one evening, sensing the invisible struggle within him. "I don't want to overstay my welcome," he admitted, his eyes betraying a mix of fear and longing.

Smiling sadly, you respected his self-imposed boundaries and softly replied, "Hyun Su, you're not overstaying anything. I'm glad you're here." Despite your reassurances, and with a heavy heart, he left, maintaining a cautious distance, hesitating to cross an invisible boundary.

During one visit, he brought you petrol for an old generator you'd been trying to fix for a while. As you moved, wincing and subtly favoring your right side, curiosity and concern etched across his face. Hyun Su gently probed, "Are you okay? You're moving funny."

Sighing, you revealed the truth about your healing injury – a deep cut around your left rib. Recounting the close encounter with a slow but hostile monster, you explained how you'd narrowly dodged its attack. The pang of guilt and fear in Hyun Su's eyes mirrored the emotions you had felt that night.

"I should have been there to protect you," he confessed, his voice filled with regret.

Shaking your head, you said, "Hyun Su, you can't be my protector all the time. It was my fault for not paying attention, and I'm healing fine. It’s just a little red." Despite your reassurances, he needed to make amends, even if he didn't voice it.

The night unfolded with a delicate dance of shared vulnerability. Hyun Su was up, fetching everything you needed and making sure you didn’t move too much. It was sweet seeing him caring so much. After inquiring about the implied redness of your wound, he retrieved the hastily packed first aid kit you had scavenged together.

As he began examining and cleaning the wound, his touch was surprisingly gentle. Each movement was deliberate, almost tender. The intensity of his gaze showed not only concern but a deeper emotion. "You have to be more careful," he murmured, his fingers tracing the bandage he expertly applied. Your breath hitched, and a shiver ran down your spine at his touch.

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, there was a silent understanding. Hyun Su wasn't just tending to a wound; he was silently expressing regret, seeking forgiveness. Despite the apocalyptic world surrounding you, a fragile connection was rekindling. His eyes were intense, and you couldn’t tell if you looked at him for a moment or a lifetime. The closeness was palpable, and for a fleeting second, it seemed like the unspoken tension might give way to something more. His breath hitched, and your heart raced, but then Hyun Su locked down again, pulling back, a conflicted look in his eyes as he slowly removed his hands from your ribs.

After the makeshift first aid, you and Hyun Su sat together on your sofa. The rest of your shared dinner was left forgotten on the table. Many unsaid words lingered between you, but for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

As you drifted off to sleep on Hyun Su's shoulder, he nudged you, suggesting you go to bed while he would take his leave. But all his nudging did was make you lie down. Sleepily, you clumsily mumbled, laying your head on his leg, clutching his shirt tightly, and voicing a quiet "stay." He was confused, unsure, and couldn’t quite shake his concerns away.

"You sure?" he asked softly, the vulnerability in his eyes contrasting with the strength he showed during perilous scavenger runs.

"Yeah, Hyun Su. Just stay a bit longer," you whispered, and with that, he scooted a little bit down on the dingy sofa, allowing himself to enjoy your closeness and trust. In the quiet moments of the post-apocalyptic world, a subtle understanding and healing blossomed between you and Hyun Su. As he as well soon fell asleep, with you by his side, gently playing with your hair. Embracing a rekindled connection in a world that desperately craved it.

#sweet home netflix #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyunsu #sweet home imagines #kdrama #song kang #sweet home #hyun su #hyun soo #cha hyun su #cha hyunsoo

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sunsetcougar · 4 months ago

Note

okay okay Lyrebird exorcist AU. I know this probably wont happen, but when the Hotel's finally has enough of Valentino's shit, what if Vaggie lures him into an ambush using Angels voice? Or would she just refuse to do it outright because it resembles what she did as an exorcist too much? Maybe she thinks "Just one last time..." but after she does it she just has a panic attack because she's doing it again? On another note: I am fascinated by the overlords in general, and how would they react to somehow learning Vaggie is a former exorcist? I mean in canon i dont think it would be that big a deal, but in this AU exorcists are much more terrifying. They are moreso monsters than soldiers. Also how did the interaction with Carmilla go exactly? We know Vaggie was in a daze, but the whole interaction was probably a lot more tense on Carmine's end. I mean this voice stealing monster is suddenly in her home making demands, again exorcists are a bigger threat here. But Carmilla had killed one of them so its possible the fear of facing off against one (not the entire flock of course) ebbed away somewhat.

Oh that’s a bit of a tricky one. Vaggie would outright refuse unless Charlie asked her. She struggles to say no to her, so she’d suck up her nerves and use her mimicking. But you’re right that it would end with her having a panic attack. Using her mimicry to lure someone to their death feels so… right. So horribly right and relieving, like she gave into an addiction she was finally getting clean of. (What if she can’t stop? What if she gives in again and again? What if she hurts one of her friends or worse, Charlie?)

Alastor is the first overlord to learn Vaggie is an exorcist, and while he’ll never admit it she scares unnerves him, especially after he learns that one of the voices in her library is his mother’s. Rosie is second to find out when she and Charlie talk, and she’s far from comfortable with the idea of one of those… things being one of Hell’s permanent residents, but doesn’t say so to Charlie’s face.

Eventually the news that the princess is dating a fallen exorcist spreads and it makes the other overlords at minimum nervous. It’s one thing to not be able to trust voices one day a year, but now there’s a mimic designed to kill them running loose 24/7, 365…

As for Carmilla, she figures out Vaggie is an exorcist before they even meet face to face. It’s not rocket science after all. And since she doesn’t know how the exorcist’s mimicking works, if they trade voices face to face or if it’s some kind of hive mind, and doesn’t want to risk them getting her voice, she uses text-to-speech during their meeting. That was Vaggie’s first clue that Carmilla knew something because she knows the overlord isn’t mute, so why isn’t she talking?

Carmilla is as afraid of the exorcists as every other sinner, the idea of losing her voice to one, especially considering she killed one, is terrifying. If they found out, if they took her voice, they could use it to lure out her daughters. If they got her daughter’s voices, they could use it to lure out her. She knows she’d go running if her children cried, even if she knew it was probably an exorcist.

#Lyrebird AU #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel charlie #chaggie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel carmilla #mimic horror

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agerefandomstuff · 5 months ago

Note

Caregiver headcanons about Dean Winchester from supernatural?

• Hugs from him are tight and all consuming since he always a pours his heart and soul into them. They take all worries away—at least for the moment.

—speaking of; forehead kisses. Started with the occasional feather light one during hugs, turned into kiss attacks on your cheeks to make you laugh.

-hes also just fantastic at making you laugh. Games, teasing, silly dad jokes, bickering with Sam, tickling, playing dress up, whatever he does he knows just how to get you into a giggling fit.

- He loves costumes and getting you in on them.

—and while he may pretend he doesn’t like all the touchy “chick flick” affection, he’s a liar and everyone knows it. He loves cuddling and rocking you.

• He’s strong enough to pick you up and carry you and man.. it’s hard to get him to put you down once he’s got you on his hip.

—He likes being close to you and being able to have you in his arms. He feels like he’s actively protecting you in that moment. Like he can keep all harm away by just holding you.

-Car rides all the time. Whether it’s to clear his head or yours or just to help lull you to sleep to the sound of soft rock and the hum of the road.

-music! His lullabies are all rock songs.

• The toys and outfits he gets you are car themed or rock themed until you state you want something else. (You will have to help shop because he states “doesn’t know what he’s doing.”)

• Cartoons are something he insists on because he likes them. Scooby-Doo is the most obvious one but anything you may request he will get sucked into.

• He likes to cook and bake for you if he can’t because he likes the domesticity of it.

—also sweets. Sweets! Sweets! Sweets! Sam has to intervene occasionally and remind you both that you have to eat real meals other than pie, cake, candy, and whatever else you two have gotten into.

—But Dean can’t say no to giving you desserts when he wants them just as bad.

• He likes caring for you in general because he loves having a family and while he still struggles with the trauma of having to grow up early to be a dad for Sam, he still has the desire to care for someone that needs him completely.

• Being in his life means being in everyone he loves’ life. Sam, Cas, Bobby, etc. Everyone is aware of you two. And as long as you don’t cause world ending trouble and you make Dean happy they can’t complain. Hell they may(absolutely will) even start liking you too from seeing you regressed around him and how he treats you.

• He cares so much. It’s nearly overbearing and it sometimes is misread as being aggression or distrust but he’s just worried and a bit insecure.

• Sam will always be his number one but this all started because he saw his little brother in you so much he couldn’t help his caregiver instincts from taking over.

—He wants to just take care of you forever. Keep you from harms way. From the monsters and horrors of the world that the adults take care of. You’re too little to have to deal with that. So you’re not going to if he has any say in it. And, boy, does he have a lot of say.

—(Sam helps deescalate some of the tension that stems from this recurring conversation, calming Dean down a bit since he knows how it feels to be a target of Dean’s extreme concern.)

— If you get hurt he is all over it. He’s fixing you up before your first tear can even fall.

-But then you get lectured about being careful.

• He freaked out initially when you called him something like “daddy” or “papa.” He hadn’t been expecting to have gotten that attached to you and that intertwined with your regression that you would view him like a father.

—He shut down for a few days and was more distant from you while he processed it. He was afraid of being a dad due to everything in his past and really really didn’t want to become his father.

—It took a “chick flick” heart-to-heart with Sam involved and some tears to get Dean to comes back and try again with you.

—But after a while he warmed up to it entirely and even refers to himself as “daddy” or “papa” or something.

-“I knoooow, kid, but Papa wants to take a nap so you’re coming with. Bring a stuffie to cuddle and complain to.”

- “Daddy and Sammy are gonna have to head out for a little bit. Will you be good and stay right here? Or should I drop you off at Bobby’s to be babysat?” “You want Cas to babysit you? Kid… he— well..angels are busy doing— don’t give me puppy eyes! Did Sam teach you that??”

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #🧸mines🍼#age regression #agere fandom #agere headcanons #age regression headcanons #requests🧸✨#agere dean #dean winchester #caregiver!dean #cg!dean #cg Dean Winchester #agere supernatural #hope these made sense I wrote them at 4 am at a hotel #agere caregiver #caregiver headcanons

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astarionancuntnin · 5 months ago

Text

Die For You (Chapter 6)

summary: the morning after your night with astarion, you discuss a plan to take down the man who attacked you.

rating: E

word count: 5.2k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. bit of fluff, lots of angst, more smut. dom!astarion, oral (f!receiving), very dirty talk, possessive sex, p in v, breeding kink (no pregnancy tho), mating press, blood/vampire bites, overstimulation, creampie. full list on ao3

a/n: so i knoooow that classic vampires dont have telepathic abilities but were talking about a vampire ascendant baby girl which is very homebrew so im giving myself the right to rizzle dazzle his powers for the means of this fic, thank you for coming to my ted talk

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He says, "Ooh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends

I'm the king, and you're the queen, and we will stumble through heaven

If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight"

You’re taken out of your deep slumber by the sun’s brightness shining upon your face. You turn away, hiding your eyes from the blinding light to enjoy a few more minutes of rest, when a warm, honeyed voice greets you.

“Good morning, little love. Had a good night of sleep?”

You hum, your voice dozy from sleep, while he strokes your hair, and you find yourself snuggling closer to him as you press your forehead gently against his thigh. His warmth was always surprising, but not unwelcome.

“Would you care for breakfast?” he continues.

You grumble, pulling the bed sheets over your head. “Do I have to? I’d rather stay in bed if I have a say in the matter.”

He smiles, “That can be arranged.”

You raise your head when you realise he hasn't moved, unsure if he's waiting for your response and instead, you find him with his eyes closed and brows furrowed. He opens them again after a moment and meets your gaze once more.

“There. Shouldn’t be long now.”

You sit up, puzzled by what just happened, but he’s quick to reply to your unspoken interrogation.

“A master holds a telepathic connection with his creations, and this bond can hold between great distances.” You suddenly remember the encounter you had with Astarion’s siblings back then; how the spawn twisted in pain when it received Cazador’s orders and Astarion notices your worry. “It doesn’t hurt them, if that’s your concern.”

“It didn’t look that way the last time I witnessed it,” You bring your knees to your chest as you sit up, before covering yourself with the light silk bed sheet.

“That’s because Cazador enjoyed to torture us, and unlike him, I’m no monster. I would expect you to know me better than that by now.”

It’s true, he never mistreated his spawns, not in your presence anyway, and Amedee even mentioned how well she was treated since she had become his servant. You had no reason to believe otherwise, aside from your own lingering preconceptions.

As you think of her, Amedee enters your room with a prompt salutation, carrying along a golden platter of food that she leaves at the end of your bed. You could tell she was embarrassed despite the lack of pink in her cheeks, as she struggled to look at you and quickly left after Astarion dismissed her. If she had only looked up to you, she would’ve seen the grin that appeared on your face from this brief interaction. Once she leaves, Astarion brings the plate up to you.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

The plate is generously filled with a variety of fruits, cheeses, and meats, along with freshly baked bread slices to pair with them. By the amount displayed, you would assume that the plate is meant to be shared, but Astarion doesn’t indulge. Instead, he waits for you to serve yourself. You’re overwhelmed by the vast selection and hesitate before reaching out to make a pick or your first bite; you settle on a bit of dried meat and cheese, their aromas complementing each other perfectly. You close your eyes as you savour the rich flavours on your tongue; although you still had no intention of getting up anytime soon, you were thankful for the breakfast. Astarion smiles, happy to see you eat to your heart’s desire, and he leans back on the stack of pillows, admiring you.

In truth, you’re extremely grateful for everything he’s done for you, especially with what happened the day prior, and you want to express it, but somehow you struggle to get the words out. You can’t find the right words, and you don’t want to risk breaking the comfort you have just managed to create with him, after so many days of hatred and tension. You open your mouth once, and twice, without a single sound coming out, and you think, maybe I should let it go, maybe if I say nothing it’ll be better than saying anything at all. Maybe if we don’t talk about it, then I can pretend this dreaded ball never happened.

“What troubles you my dear?”

Well, now you can’t.

You sigh heavily, getting ready to finally pour your heart out to him. “I’ve been meaning to thank you. For yesterday, after the ball. After what happened, I was… I’m not even sure. It’s always something you hear happen to others, I never would have imagined it happening… to me.” You feel yourself spacing out again into the events and you snap out of focus to find Astarion staring back at you earnestly. “I’m just glad that you were there to stop him, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Had I known the bastard would’ve followed you out, I would’ve gone with you into the gardens. All I can do now is assure that he will never get close to you again.”

“Wait so– You know him?”

“That was Sir Virric Othros. He’s a merchant noble, he deals directly with the economy in Baldur’s Gate. The two other men from the ball, the ones you confronted?” You nod, awaiting more information. “Those were his business partners. Pretentious little shits if you ask me. I know they don't particularly appreciate me, arseholes will bad mouth me at any chance they get. Usually I would let it slide, I don’t have time to deal with petty comments, but attacking you draws the line,” he says, now frowning.

“That checks out, they were doing exactly that when I spoke up in the ballroom, but then I don’t know how his business relates to yours and why he would want to take you down.”

His gaze snaps back at you, “What?”

“That’s… the reason he attacked me. He meant to use me against you.”

He looks away, his eyes flicking left and right, searching his mind for a solution to a problem he couldn’t solve and when his eyes fall back on you, they are filled with a darkness that sends a shiver down your spine. “You can’t leave this palace, do you hear me?”

“What?! Why?”

“Don’t you realise what this implies?” He gets up and picks up his clothing from the previous night to dress himself back up in a rush. “If these people have it in their mind to take me down, they won’t stop until they get what they want. We don’t know who they hired, if they already have something else planned–”

“I can defend myself!”

“Like you did so wonderfully at the ball?” He catches your frown as you avert your eyes, resigned from answering back and he sighs remorsefully. He leans closer as he settles back on the bed, drawing your gaze back to him.

“You might be the strongest woman I know, but they’re vile, they won't fight fair, and they won't hesitate to use underhanded means to get what they want. I cannot risk having you out with a target on your back, the only place I can assure you will be safe is here, in the palace.”

You blink a few times and your eyes light up as a sudden thought crosses your mind, “Then let’s take them down first.”

He scoffs, “Darling, I’m not against the idea, but I can hardly see how. We are talking about nobles amongst the most influential of Baldur’s Gate, their disappearance won’t go unnoticed.”

“We could say that they got abducted? Disappeared without a trace, somehow, I don’t know, but we’ll find something, we need to get rid of them. If they’re that dangerous and influential, prison won’t cut it.” You glare into his eyes trying to convey your devotion. “We need to take them out ourselves. And I will kill this Virric myself.”

Astarion can see the anger burning in your eyes as he stares back at you with the same intensity; for the first time since his ascension, you’re both thinking of the same thing. He gets back up, grabbing the remaining discarded clothes from the previous night before heading for the door. “Get dressed and meet me in my office. I might have an idea.”

—

By the time you get to Astarion’s office, he’s already completely immersed in a world of his own, shifting between multiple pieces of papers that populated his desk. You had never taken the time to visit his personal rooms, you’re surprised to see his office filled with books on various topics, but you notice a recurring theme around necromancy, vampires and their powers, and nobility in Baldur’s Gate. Astarion only notices you minutes after you’ve entered, lifting his head to see you approach him.

“For this to work, we would need to attack them somewhere we have control over – the crimson palace, obviously – so I will be hosting a soiree, this way they are within reach and we can deal with them however we see fit. We can work out the details as we go, but it should cover the essentials: lure them here without suspicion, and allow us to proceed under cover.”

Ever the planner. Some things never change, you think to yourself. “Luring them here won’t be enough, we also need to lure them away from the party, where we can deal with them personally.”

“That should be easy enough; if they notice you before you walk away from the rest of the guests, they should take the bait and follow you. They wouldn’t be smart enough to catch on to the trap we lay out, and I could follow them to you, make sure you’re safe.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “Having the host disappear into the darkness with a few guests and come back out alone? That’s one way to raise suspicions instantly.”

“Well then little soldier, you were always the most intricate strategist, what would you suggest?”

“We need you to be visible at all times, no one can suspect you to be in on this, otherwise we’ll have much bigger problems to worry about. As for me, no one has seen my face yet, but everyone has seen me dance with you at the last ball. I can’t be seen at all during the soiree. You’ll tell the guests I’m sick and cannot attend, and meanwhile I’ll hide in the shadows until the time is right to lure them away.”

He hums, reflecting upon your idea. “Not bad… But then once alone with them, what will you do?”

“If I hide a weapon beneath my dress, I should be able to take care of two of them easily, but three might be tricky. Plus, they’ll probably be armed, as they were last time.”

“I could send you reinforcements. I would just need your signal to have my children come to help.”

You shake your head; something is missing. “We would need to be able to communicate through the party.” You sigh. “I never thought I’d say this, but the tadpoles would’ve been really useful in this scenario.”

“Well…” He pauses. “There is a way to do this without involving those parasites.”

“Which is?” He tilts his head to show the bite marks on his neck and the realisation dawns on you, “You would need to turn me…”

He moves away from his desk, slowly approaching you, “We would be able to talk to each other no matter the distance and without raising suspicions. You would be stronger, swifter, sharper, and any injury you would receive – should you get hurt – would be healed in a matter of seconds.” He reaches you and tilts your chin up to meet your eyes, almost whispering, “You would become untouchable.”

You gulp, as a knot in your throat builds up. There had to be another way, something else that could provide you a way to communicate somehow. You curse yourself for lacking any magical abilities; maybe then you wouldn’t have to resort to such extremes.

“I want to share this gift with you.” He continues as he grabs a hold of your hand. “I’ve only been wanting the best for you, my love. With this strength, no one will dare to take advantage of you. You’ll never have to fear anyone, ever again. Neither of us will. We will be unstoppable, as we should’ve always been.”

When he offered to make you his consort six months ago, you turned him down immediately, almost disgusted by the offer. How ironic for you to consider it now. You can only imagine what your life would’ve looked like had you accepted back then: if it had been anything like these past weeks, you would've had nothing less of a lavish life. Endless parties, custom clothes, all the perfume and jewels you could imagine, and all the attention from the man you loved. As a vampire, you would’ve had the strength to defeat anyone foolish enough to even try to come close to you. You would be able to assist Astarion in helping to rebuild Baldur’s Gate and take down corrupted nobles, as Gods only know how rotten those roots seem to be. Chances are, with your added influence as the saviour of the city, the rebuilding efforts might’ve been further done by now, maybe more nobles would have joined your side and funded the repairs. You wouldn’t have had to travel from one city to another in search of a bed or even company for the night, living comfortably within the walls of the palace besides Astarion.

Lady Ancunín did have a nice ring to it, too...

“If I’m to do this… what will change? Aside from the red eyes and fangs.” It was your biggest fear, to become something you were not.

“You’ll still be you, only better. You’re already perfect, it’s hard to improve.” He senses your incertitude and brings back your eyes to him. “You don’t need to make a decision tonight, no invitations have been sent out yet. You can take all the time you need to think this through. I’ll be by your side no matter what.” He softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. “I only care about what’s best for you”

It’s a truth you’ve been denying yourself for too long now, and the signs have only piled up since you’ve been back in his world, but you kept ignoring them, too proud to accept that you had been wrong to leave him. You sigh heavily, letting go of any lingering anxiety about your decision.

“If we’re doing this, I have demands,” your voice is stern, asserting the gravity of your words.

“Anything you wish,” he smiles playfully.

“I know you can have control over your spawn. I don’t give you the right to force me to do anything, ever. I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

His tone suggests otherwise, but you carry on, “I want to be properly fed. No starving tactics to manipulate me in any way.” He nods and you continue, “And finally,” you take a deep breath, as the angst builds up in your chest, “I don’t want to become a ruthless monster. Please stay by my side, help me, guide me.”

“Of course my love, that goes without asking,” his gaze softens, “I’ll guide you through every step of the way.”

You sigh heavily, relived by his promise, “Then it’s settled. I don’t want to waste more time discussing the matter, my mind is made up.” Your eyes wear a new shade of confidence, “I trust you.”

“Thank you, my love,” he smiles softly. “I want this experience to be most pleasurable for you. It’ll be nothing like what I experienced, I'll make sure of that.”

His words reassure you for the time being, but the uncertainty of what to expect creates a lingering anxiety in your chest. To prevent yourself from spending more time chasing those thoughts away, you make a proposition.

“We should do it tonight.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” He teases you.

“The faster it’s done, the faster we can carry on with our plan.”

“And I won’t be the one opposing you, my dear.” He walks back behind his desk where he gets started on arranging the papers he had previously scattered around. “I’ll call for the servants to prepare dinner. Do you have any requests for your last meal?”

A memory suddenly flashes before your eyes and you know exactly what you want.

“Yes actually. Balduran Mash.”

—

After experiencing the most bittersweet dinner of your life, you sought solace in the gardens, enjoying the last hours of sunlight, the feeling of the sun's warmth over your skin, before going back to your room to change into your nightgown for the evening, pondering about how tonight was going to go. You never thought this day would come, and yet, here you were, sitting at your vanity, looking back at your reflection for the last time. By the time you wake up tomorrow, you will be a vampire. Undead.

One of Astarion’s spawns.

The thought still sits uneasy with you, even though you know it’s necessary to see this plan unfold. You will do anything to make it happen; you would rather die than let this Sir Virric get away with what he had done to you. It’ll all be worth it, you think, and Astarion promised it would bring me protection. It truly is for the greater good.

As you think about his words, Astarion knocks at your door before entering your room. For the first time, you see him wear his casual clothes, similar to those he used to wear when you camped together. He approaches you at your vanity, stopping right behind where you sat.

“Having second thoughts, little love?’ He lays his hands upon your shoulders and you look back at his reflection in your mirror.

You sigh heavily. Even if you did have doubts, you couldn’t let fear cloud your judgement. “No. I need to do this.” You look back to your own reflection, your resolve coming back to you. “There’s no other choice.”

“Good.” He lowers his head next to your ear, murmuring. “Are you ready to experience your final night alive?”

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his hot breath against your skin. “Yes.”

“Then follow me,” you spy the wicked smile appearing on his lips as he whispers, before he straightens up. He extends his hand out to you as an invitation for you to follow him, and you rise from your seat as you take him up on his offer.

You would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t terrified. It’s as if your heart was stuck in your throat, and your mind was racing from one thought to another. You stop in your tracks as you near the bed and Astarion turns back to you when he notices your hesitation, “Is something the matter, my dear?”

So many things, and yet you struggle to find which one to mention first. “Will it hurt?” When you speak, your voice is barely audible, as if voicing those words with a quiet voice made them less real as you considered them.

“I promise, the pleasure will be far greater than the pain,” he purrs, caressing your cheek, and you close your eyes at the contact, breathing in deeply. “You trust me, don't you?” You open your eyes back up to find him staring lovingly at you and you nod, “Then you have nothing to fear.”

His hand gets lost in your hair as he pulls you into a deep kiss, and it's as if all the air gets pulled out of your lungs. He grasps your waist roughly, his nails digging through your silk nightgown, and a soft moan escapes you. As you break the kiss gasping for air, his lips trail down to your neck, leaving a path of kisses in its wake. When you breathe in, you’re hit with the intoxicating smell of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy, and you find yourself leaning into him, dizzy from his essence. His hands make their way to your shoulders, lightly grazing your skin there as he pushes away the straps of your nightgown. Your nightclothes are quickly discarded, as the silk easily slides off from your body to your feet, leaving you bare before him. Your chest rises with anticipation at each breath you take, longing for his touch, and yet you remain still – awaiting his next move. As he lifts your chin, your eyes lock with his, and your lips part in anticipation of tasting him once more. He hovers close, murmuring softly, his breath just a whisper away from your mouth.

“You are a vision, my love.”

He leans next to your ear, his hot breath creating a warmth pooling at the bottom of your belly.

“Absolute perfection, ethereal beauty.”

The back of his hand slides along your arm, down to your hand that he brings to his cheek, kissing your skin ever softly.

“And you will be, forever.”

When he faces you again, your eyes are filled with lust and you can’t contain the hunger growing at your core. You close the gap between the two of you in an instant, devouring him, and your hands fall to his trousers, fumble to remove them. Astarion growls into the kiss as you rip open his shirt, not caring for the buttons breaking apart in the process. With his clothes out of the way, he lifts you up to bring you to bed, laying you underneath him all the while continuing to give you the attention you deserve.

“Gods, I wanna devour you.”

Astarion wastes no time to lavish every inch of your skin, starting with your navel, licking and kissing his way down to your thighs, worshipping you as he leaves love bites on his trail. He props your legs up on his shoulder as his mouth bites the soft skin of your thighs, only drawing out the slightest drop of blood, and you grab the bedsheets trying to get a hold of yourself through his teasing. He laps at the fresh wounds to clean it and lets his tongue find its way to your entrance, giving it one long lick while his eyes look for yours.

He tastes your juices on his lips, smirking at you. “Still just as delicious as the first time I tasted you.”

He keeps playfully licking you, barely grazing over your neglected clit, and you squirm under him, until he grabs your thighs strongly, keeping you grounded against his face. You try to move from his grasp, but it's useless; you are nowhere near as strong as him, you would have to take whatever he would have the mercy to give you. He bites down deeper into your other thigh, savouring the richness of your blood, and you gasp. You didn't expect it, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure and you were delighted by the sensation. He pulls away soon after and you whine, pleading for more.

“Yes, my treasure?” The words roll deliciously on his tongue, only teasing you further and you groan, frustrated.

“Please.”

“If you want something, you’ll have to use your words,” he purrs seductively. “Please what?”

“Please…” you take a few breaths, trying to compose yourself. You can hide your desperation for his attention anymore, not after all those days you’ve been craving him. That time in the hallway when you wanted nothing more than to kiss him, when you danced together and the proximity was stifling you, how his words disarmed you, made you want him in the most depraved ways, how you made him yours last night… You want him. “Please, I need you, Astarion.”

He grins with your blood tainting his lips, “Anything for my precious pet.”

He dives into your cunt, devouring you as if you were his first meal in days and you can’t control the loud moan that escapes you. He laps at your entrance, drinking your juices as he did your blood, without wasting a single drop of your precious nectar. When he judges that your pussy had enough, he moves to your clit, giving it the attention it so badly craved. His lips cover it, allowing him to suck gently over your sweet spot, and that’s when you start to feel it, the build up within you nearing its peak. You chant his name like a prayer, each time speaking it louder, until you feel yourself reaching your edge. You try your best to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but Astarion would not allow it. He stops, for just a moment, just long enough for you to look back at him and wonder why he would torture you so and stop when you were so close.

“Don’t be shy, my sweet. I love the way you scream my name.”

As his nails dig painfully into your thighs, and his tongue dives back to abuse your sensitive bud, you feel the waves of your climax hit you all at once. The scream that leaves your lips is otherworldly, and you get lost in the feeling as your back arches into the mattress. The world around you vanishes and you see stars as your body still rides the aftershake of your orgasm, your breathing barely able to keep up. As you’re coming down from your high, Astarion kisses his way back up, making sure to leave additional bites on his way; noticeably one nicely placed over the curve of your breast. You finally look down to find him looking back at you, with his mouth covered in a mix of your come and blood.

He speaks with a husky voice, his half-lidded eyes lost in yours. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

You manage to mumble a few words through your exhaustion, “Then show me.”

Without breaking eye contact, he moves down just enough to slide his hard length down your navel and between your folds, moving to get himself wet from you. At this angle, his shaft created a delicious friction against your clit that made you cry out louder from the overstimulation. He doesn’t torture you for much longer, as he whispers in your ear, before giving you exactly what you need.

“Sing for me, my treasure.”

He slides inside you with one powerful thrust, making you scream again and your hands fly to his back, searching to ground yourself. When he picks up a languid rhythm, your nails dig into his skin, scratching near his scars and he lets out a feral growl before grabbing your wrist and pinning you roughly against the bed.

“All these months, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about you; your voice, your skin, your delicious cunt. I'll never make the mistake of letting you leave. Ever. Again.” He pounds into you harder, pausing as he speaks these last words, and something clicks inside of you as you hear the possessiveness in his hoarse voice. If it had been anyone else you would’ve wanted to speak up, but when said by him, right now, you wanted nothing but to comply.

“Do you have any idea of the things I’ve been wanting to do to you these last few days? Fuck, the thoughts that crossed my mind… How I’ve wanted to bend you over that dining table and overfill you with my come, having you dripping from me for days to remind you who you belong to, my dearest consort, mmh–” He picks up the pace, ramming into your cunt deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars, “If it was only up to me, I would keep you chained to this bed and breed you, over and over again.” He laps at the spot he used to feed on you, the warmth it left on your skin, along with his depraved speech, only pushed you closer and closer to your second collapse. “How beautiful you would look, marked as mine with my bites and my come, mine to please, mine to own. Isn't this what you want?” His lips graze the shell of your ear and he whispers, “To be mine?”

Your mind is clouded by lust and all you can think about is how good he makes you feel, how great he’s been taking care of you, and hells, you really do, you want nothing more than to be his, and his only. Let him own you, use you. As much as you loathed him previously, you can’t help but admit to yourself that you’ve longed for him and his attention, his touch, his kiss, everything he had to offer and everything he’s been wanting to share with you. You always loved him, the only thing those several months spent apart did for you was affirming this truth, and now that you were finally back together, you couldn’t deny it any longer. Yes, I’ll stay with you, I’ll be yours, I’ll be everything you want me to be, I’ll love you until the world ends, you want to say, but only three words leave your lips in a whisper:

“Make me yours.”

A smile creeps up on his lips at your words, and he bites down on your exposed neck through the markings he had previously left, drinking you in like a starved man as he resumes his thrusts into you. Gods, you missed this, missed him, missed how he made you feel, missed how good you two were together. His drinking on you always acted like an aphrodisiac; it made you see the brightest of stars, made you feel like your entire body was frozen only to be burning with desire moments after, as pure fire was coursing through your veins. You knew that following his bite, you were only moments away to feel the waves of pleasure over you. The vibration from Astarion’s growls against your neck as he drank only contributed more to your end. All it took was another sip from him and you were hit with the strongest of thunders, screaming once again as your body trembled with the aftershock, almost completely taking you out. The waves of your release rippled through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it was gonna burst out. If it wasn’t for Astarion savagely fucking you, you think you would have passed out by the strength of your orgasm.

You were feeling more drained than usual, dizzy, even. That’s when you notice your lover still latching onto you. Instinctively, you try to stop him but his grip on your wrist pins you down with no way to move out, and that’s when it all comes back to you. He was going to kill you, turn you into a vampire, make you his dark consort.

You feel yourself getting colder and colder, his grip on your wrists tightening, leaving you with your last bruises. Your world grows dark and a tear streams from your eye as they get shut tightly. Nothing hurts anymore: not the fangs in your neck, not his hands holding your wrists down, not his weight upon you.

This was for the greater good, to make you better, make you stronger, keep you safe. You trusted him, and you would welcome this new life he offers you. You wouldn’t be afraid of anyone ever again. In your last seconds of consciousness, you use what you have left of your remaining lifeforce to try and whisper his name, as a thank you for caring, thank you for everything, please help me through this, please never leave my side, A–…

“Star…”

I love you.

And you did, until your very last breath.

He says, "Ooh, baby girl, don't get cut on my edges

I'm the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon

There's a light in the crack that's separating your thighs

And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight

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