e-m-ma-lmfao - Tumblr blog

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

I'm the anon who sent the last request for Zack's headcanon and I'm all 💖💞💓💗 I loved it sooo much <3 I could ask for another headcanon from him with a s/o who is a little scared of sleeping alone and loves it to be hugged in his arms all night? I hope it's not inconvenient asking one hc again I just love him so much ♡

Zack Fair with S/O Who’s Scared to Sleep Alone

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

cw : none!

zack’s a busy guy.

he leaves early in the morning before you wake up and he’s usually home late in the night after you’ve gone to bed.

and you hate it.

you wake up to a cold bed, and you have to go to sleep with no one around.

being in the house by yourself all day is bad enough but as soon as the sun goes down it feels less boring and more scary.

every shadow seems bigger, like some big man has come creeping around the corner.

the floorboards seem to creek so much louder, like someone is sneaking through the house.

and the bed is always freezing.

it doesn’t help that the window faces your bed directly, you stare expecting someone to walk past or peer in.

you can’t sleep.

the first time, zack comes home, not bothering to check on you because he assumes you’re asleep.

i mean it’s midnight, you should be sleeping.

he showers, and crawls into bed, wrapping a heavy arm around you, as if it’s instinct, to pull you closer to him.

but you stir and he realizes you’re awake, turning to face him.

“baby.. why are you awake? i told you not to wait up.”

he’d stroke your head, finding your eyes even in the dark of your bedroom. and you mutter ‘couldn’t sleep’ in response.

“why not?”

honestly you’re not sure. yes you had been nervous earlier in the night but your bed was comfy enough and the house was safe.

so you just shrug.

“s’okay. i’m here now, so we can get some shut eye, yeah?”

he pulls you in close, and you feel your eyes becoming heavy, face buried in his muscular chest.

but you’re reeling in embarrassment, so sleep fails to come, even more so when zack’s snores fill your ears.

the second time, zack’s routine is the same.

you listen, pleading with yourself to fall asleep before he gets into bed.

god forbid you have to admit that you’re afraid in your home.

zack would go crazy installing security measures into you finally felt safe, but it wouldn’t help.

when zack enters the room he can already tell that your awake, you’re restless, he knows you well enough to know your habits.

he crawls into bed, clinging to your back side, arm lazily thrown over your side.

his cold hand reaches under your shirt to get closer to your skin, fingers tightening on your waist, “hi baby.”

both the cold and his voice makes you go rigid, flustered and embarrassed.

“why’re you awake hun?” his voice is soft, tired, and so close to your ear.

you can only shrug once more.

“you know what time it is?”

“no..”

“it’s late. too late for you to be awake, my love.” he kisses at your neck, making you squirm in his grip.

“let’s get some sleep baby.. we’re gonna talk about this in the morning, okay?”

you don’t. he’s gone in the morning. and you understand his busy schedule, but your still upset knowing tonight will be the same.

the day is the same as always, you’re nervous to be alone but you tidy up, and follow your schedule.

but when the sun goes down your nervousness grows, and your retreat to the bedroom to hide in the bed.

you turn the tv on, hoping it will help to have background noise. but it only makes you anxiety grow knowing you can’t hear anything else.

you miss zack. and you’re so tired.

but you can’t sleep.

so you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, heartbeat quick in your chest.

at some point, your sleep deprived frustration causes tears to roll down your cheeks.

it only serves to embarrass you more, even though no one is home to witness the scene.

the third time, zack is home earlier.

it has you sitting up in the your shared bed instantly, scared that it might not be your beloved boyfriend entering your home.

he’s too early.

but then his head is peaking through the door, and then his body follows as he approaches.

you can tell he’s tired but there’s a sweet smile on his face.

“i figured you would be awake,” he speaks quietly, grabbing your hand and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“why are you awake,” your about to raise your shoulders but he cuts up off, “and don’t shrug, use your voice.”

“can’t sleep.”

“i know you can’t, baby.. why?” he squeezes your fingers, other hand landing gently on your knee.

you hesitate. you’re embarrassed. this is so childish.

“i.. i’m scared.”

his eyes would widen, concern and guilt fighting a war inside of his body. he should’ve been home more. had something happened?

“scared of what? what happened?”

“nothing.. i just.. i don’t know, the house seems so much scarier when you’re not home. can’t sleep without you.”

he calms. his blood stills. and his head levels out.

you’re safe. and the probelm is a fixable one.

“awh baby.. why didn’t you just say so?”

“cuz.. you work so hard for us I didn’t wanna wreck your schedule.”

he rids himself of his SOLDIER uniform, pulling you into the bed with him.

“i can always change my schedule. don’t worry about it.”

his fingers thread your hair, placing kisses across your face.

you breath him in. he hasn’t showered, but he doesn’t stink. he smells like home.

“can i make you breakfast tomorrow?”

“you’re gonna be home?”

“all day, my love.”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Can i ask for some headcanons about Zack from final fantasy kissing the face of a s/o who is crying and comforting them? I hope it doesn't seem weird, I just thought it would be cute ♡ thank you for reading and I love sm your hcs its perfect!

Zack Fair with Crying S/O

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

cw: none! zack is a cutie patootie and he deserves pure fluff.

it genuinely would probably take zack a hot moment to notice your crying at all.

i mean he comes home, all sweaty after a gruesome training session, muttering a soft, “hey baby,” and placing the gentlest kiss on the top of your hair, hand resting on the back of your head.

but he’s focused on hitting the shower.

so focused that when you try and wrap your arms around him for comfort, he’s pushing you away from him, “ah, baby y’don’t wanna touch me right now. i’m all sweaty and gross.”

he thinks nothing of it, it's not the first time he's rejected your touch to prevent you from smelling him after training. he's saving you from it, he thinks.

so he continues on to the bathroom, bag of equipment thrown loosely on his shoulder.

that is, until, he hears soft sniffles coming from behind him, making his shoulders droop.

zack has tuned himself to understand your emotions. a simple sniff could mean you were getting sick, or that it was simply dusty in the house and he would need to clean soon.

but multiple, in a row, followed by hiccuped breaths. not good.

suddenly he's regretting not accepting you hug.

he turns in an instant, dropping anything he holds to rush over to your side, sitting the two of you down on the couch, face to face.

“what happened baby?” “hey, hey, look at me, my love.” and while he means to comfort you, his words have your cracking and you breakdown in front of.

zack would take your cheeks into his hands, making you face him. his brows furrow when he sees the tears slipping from your beautiful eyes, running down past your lips.

though at first you refuse to speak, his thumb’s gentle caress of your cheekbone coaxes the reasoning out of you.

even while tired after a long day, he listens to what you say, following every word. gaze never faltering, hands on your face never dropping.

“awh, my baby doesn’t deserve that..”

“poor baby.” his thumb wipes a tear that falls from your lashline line.

he places the softest kiss to your cheek, then another in the same spot.

he notices an instant change, it seems to soften your breathing. and your sniffling subsides. you’ve calmed.

“that helping, love?” yeah it is. he knows.

so he places another. and another. and one more.

his lips covered the stray tears on your cheeks, kissing them away.

zack moves your face, giving him the perfect angle to any spot he wishes to kiss.

he covers your jaw, cheeks, forehead, in soft kisses.

at first it feels sporadic, like he’s calculating where his lips will land.

but in an instant he find a steady rhythm, planting kisses wherever his lips land on your face rather then picking a specific spot.

it has your face heating up, and your heartbeat leveling to a steady beat.

you push him away, with gentle hands, almost whining between giggles, “zackk stoppp.”

but he knows that really means, ‘keep kissing me please.’

when he notices a smile on your face, placing another kiss on your nose, he feels that his methods have worked.

“feeling better? yeah?”

zack looks at you with tired eyes, always on you, always giving his full attention. he would never dare to leave you feeling worse than before.

he places a final kiss on your lips, lingering, purely a selfish act now that he sees you have calmed down.

“come shower with me baby, that always helps me calm down.” and he grabs your hand, pulling you slowly from the couch.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

A Noble Woman

pairing : noble!astarion x (fem)reader

summary : you have always dreamed of being a noble, he wishes to fulfill this dream.. albeit it through force and bribery.

warnings : alcohol, drugging, emetophobia.

As a young girl, running free through the streets of Baldur's Gate, your parents filled you with the rules to survive. Be wary of strangers, be compliant when faced with the law, stay out of trouble. But most importantly, being surrounded by lords and dukes all residing in their towers and palaces, you were taught respect. That is, to keep your head down as you passed their residencies, taught not to let your real thoughts about the nobility slip out from behind clenched teeth. They were important and you were to treat them that way. 

You were born modest. Your parents were never struggling but you certainly weren’t living lavishly. There was never quite enough money left for anything fun at the end of the month. No money for you to frolic around in fancy dresses. But still you grew to be spoiled. You were enraptured by the importance of nobility, how could status make someone so scary that no one would even mutter a word of insult behind their backs? You didn’t know. But you craved to know. You craved to feel important. To sit in your giant palace and stare over the people of Baldur's Gate, to be loved by the masses, for the people to be scared of you 

In the beginning, they indulged you, believing that this obsession with lavish living would pass. But as you grew older, your parents became fearful that your attitude of self-importance was not so much a childhood phase but rather a permanent mindset. Your respect for them, or more honestly everyone, was dwindling. 

You became rather conceited. In a way that benefited you. Your parents were dull, and were no longer putting up with your tiresome behavior, so you became fairly independent. It was your own way of preparing yourself for nobility, you saw it as making up for the laziness you would lose yourself in after taking a seat on a throne. 

Years passed and you grew into yourself, you would no longer lower your head when passing by large castles and palaces but would instead stare longingly. Hoping to catch a glimpse of any sign of life, any sign that this life was achievable. On occasion you would approach the gates, letting your hands rest on the iron bars keeping you out. The smell of metal often lingered on your finger tips. 

You would no longer talk quietly when discussing the nobles, in fact you would often raise your voice and talk as if you were untouchable. A bad habit that could easily get you killed, but you paid no mind. 

In all your years of fascination, you realized, you had never truly seen any of the nobles that interested you. You only knew of their names. Only read about them in the tabloids, which most spoke of misinformation and rumors. Easily dismissed rumors, but they entertained you nonetheless. 

The lord that interested you the most, the one who’s palace you longed to take for yourself, was a man’s. The thought of a man sitting on a throne that would one day belong to you was the root of your annoyance, always. “No man is deserving of such things”, you would speak to your friends freely whilst they hushed you and peered around anxiously, in fear of Cazador Szarr. You assured them time and time again that nothing was going to happen to you. 

“One of these days, someone is going to hear you and report back to him. He will come for you, and what will you do then?”

“Please. The lords are no threat, let him come. Besides, I’ve never even seen him leave that place.” You let out an amused chuckle as your friend's eyebrows furrow, “I hear rumors, that Cazador is a vampire.”

“Lower your voice.. if he was, shouldn’t that make you more afraid?”

“Afraid of a bat in a man's body?” The idea has you laughing. 

“I wish you’d be more careful, especially with your words.” 

“No one ever got anywhere being careful.” You roll your eyes, suddenly bored of the conversation. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing at attention, the feeling of someone's eyes on you is swimming through you. But when you look around to find the eyes, you are left with nothing and the feeling disappears. You think nothing of it, the feeling slips from your insatiable mind and you're already thinking of something else. 

That night, when your friends say their goodbyes, their speech is wobbly and mushed together. Or maybe, it’s not so much that they are speaking strangely, but rather that you have had far too much to drink and your head began spinning near hours ago. You were never a heavy drinker, and you were entirely uncertain how you managed to become so woozy from a few drinks.

You have not moved from your seat, you are scared that if you stand you will make a fool of yourself and stumble around until eventually you hit the floor. How will you become a noble woman if you are known as the nearest drunkard? 

So instead you stay seated, and you scan your surroundings, drunkenly of course. You search for anyone, or anything, that might ground you and help you to sober up enough to leave the bar. You swear your eyes are almost crossed from how blurry your vision has become, it is entirely too hard to focus on the people around you. But, your eyes find a resting place when they reach the bar and you realize that you are not the only one who has analyzed the bar. 

A man stands behind the counter. Brown hair. Fair skin. He’s tall, but not skinny tall, rather muscular, broad shouldered tall. His appearance alone has your stomach stirring with lust. 

Lust?

No. That couldn't be right. You never lusted after men. You would never allow yourself to lust after a man, noble or not. The only thing you felt lust for was power, wealth, and status. Not some average, stupidly attractive, barman. 

You glance down at your empty cup and the thought stirs in you that you had not ordered the last few drinks, nor had you gotten up to get them yourself. Were you seriously so engrossed in unnecessary gossip that you had drunk from the cup of a stranger?

Your head spins. The time feels so uncertain in your head, whether you have been staring at your cup for minutes or hours you are unsure. But your stomach is beginning to churn, not from lust, from fear. For the first time in your life you are willing to be dependent on someone, but everyone who you trust has left. A hand lands on the table in front of you, causing your eyes to avert from your cup up to the face of the barman. 

He speaks, but you hear no words. Your thoughts are loud. A look of hunger is overwhelming your features, you can show nothing else for that is all you feel. He wears a grin on his handsome, chiseled face. He asks a question, you think, and you find yourself naively nodding along to whatever he says. You hope that he has asked to take you home, undress you slowly, and bed you until you no longer wish to leave. 

And for a second, when he takes your hand in his much larger one, you almost think your hopes are reality. Your fingers play with his arms, his shirt, his hair. Your hands have run themselves over every part of his torso before you even made it out of the bar. He leads you behind the building, and the pool of lust in your stomach gravitates between your legs. You had never made love in public before. 

But suddenly your world is whirled around, quite literally, as he heaves you over his broad shoulders and begins walking. Your head is even heavier from this angle. You do your best to protest, but your arms only weakly make contact with his lower back. You try, you really try, to keep conscious. But eventually the darkness of the night is indistinguishable from the darkness of your closed eyelids, and you crash into heavy slumber. 

When you wake you are met with the coldness of cobblestone cellar flooring pressing against your face. The gravely texture scratches at your skin as you stir. It takes a minute for you to sit up, hands supporting your woozy body as you take in your surroundings. It’s dark, and cold. The only light is a torch mounted on the wall outside of your cell. 

Your cell. 

You realize all too suddenly that you are trapped between cobblestones walls and iron bars. The lit hall on the other side is taunting you, though it doesn't look very free either. Panic settles in your stomach, and you feel your exciting night of drinks retreating from your stomach. The contents of your stomach decorate your cell floor now, spit falls to your chin which you wipe away with the back of your previously manicured hand. Steps echo as they approach.

“Ah.. good morning, pet. It seems we need to get you cleaned up, yes?”

Your eyes take a moment to focus on the figure standing in front of the bars. It's a man. Tall and thin. His figure alone would have you assuming he stood the same as your family. Modest. He did not fit the stereotype of fat and overfed. But the fabrics decorating his body, the fanciest and finest you ever seen this closely, had you sure he was a wealthy man.

You move your thoughts along to meet his face.

His hair white and curly, curling around his ears. An elf, you assume by the size of his ears. The light is reflecting off his pale skin from beside him. His face is pointed, and he looks down at you with an amused smirk.

It has you blood boiling when you remember the position you're currently seated in. You stand on wobbly knees, approaching the bars with unprecedented speed.

He merely steps back when your hands reach through the space between. 

“Let. me. out of here!” You lunge for him again, but it only earns you a sore shoulder. 

‘“Atatat..” He clicks his tongue at you, mocking you with his eyes, “Not very ladylike are you.. for a girl who wishes to rule.” He watches intently as your face contorts through fear, and anger and finally rides out into the stillness of someone who has practiced her poker face for years. 

You breathe heavily, trying to keep a steady rhythm of air through your nose, “Who are you?” You know it’s not working by the way his gaze remains transfixed on you, amused, like you are here for his own personal entertainment. He knows you're scared, he can see right through you. 

He doesn't reply, merely smiles. He points his finger to the crest decorating the arm of his tunic, the Szarr family crest. You fail to notice the splatters of blood that have been stained within the expensive fabric.

“Cazador.. I’m in the Szarr palace...” He seems to scowl at your voice, scoffing, as if he offended. Of what you are not immediately sure.

“No dear. My name’s Astarion,” He says it with flair, like you should be impressed by his title, “I’m afraid the Szarr palace is under new rule, I had to replace him because.. oh how did you put it.. no man is deserving of such things.” 

Your brow furrows at this, “You too are a man, are you not?” You take a step away from the bars, arms crossed defensively. In the back of your mind you want to scream and spit and gnaw at these bars until your teeth fall out but, while still thinking through the dizziness of being drugged, it is better if you remain stoic. Perhaps he will grow bored and let you return home. 

“I am no man.” He smiles, swiping his teeth across his teeth. Stopping at a particularly sharp tooth. It’s a fang. He closes his mouth but it doesn’t close the gate of thoughts that flood your brain in an instance. This man is not Cazador. But he is a vampire as the rumors claimed. You are going to die in the darkness of a clammy cellar, like a dirty mouse that has been trapped by a much bigger cat.

Your heart pounds, and with the way his eyes light up it almost feels like he hears it. 

“Don’t worry little mouse,” Your brows furrow once more, “I’m not going to eat you.. yet.”

“My family will come for me.” When the words leave your lips they are true and you are sure of it, but by the way his smirk seems to widen to an entertained smile your trust in the statement falters. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Would you like to see what your parents are doing right now? I can take you to them, if you promise not to run.” 

Staring into his eyes, approaching the bars once more, you search for any sign of deceit but you find none, so you nod with a heavy swallow. When his bony fingers reach to unlock the door, opening it for you to step out, you truly contemplate running. But when running through the odds in your head, they are not in your favor. You tried to remind yourself he was taking you to your parents as he wrapped his cold hand around your upper arm tightly, leading you like an animal in front of him. 

“Promise you'll be a good girl.” You sneer at him, pain flashing across your eyes as his fingers dig into your skin.

Begrudgingly, you nod your head, letting out a soft breath when his grip loosens. You can feel your pulse throbbing where his fingers have most likely left bruised circles. 

The pathway out of the palace cellar consists of dark, stone staircases, and a couple times you almost trip. It is during those times, and only those times, that you are thankful to have his grip holding you so tight. When you reach the top you expect light to flood your eyes, and you almost hope he will burst into flames from the sun, but no such light reaches your eyes. It is hidden behind curtains that have all been drawn closed, it spills out from the sides and it makes your heart drop to think you may never see it again. 

He leads you down a hallway where debris lines the floors. The carpets, all red, have all been stained with an even deeper red that has your stomach swirling nervously once more. You have to swallow down the acid that threatens to spill from the bottom of your stomach. If you weren't careful that could be your blood, decorating his disgusting carpets. 

You look up and see paintings lining the walls. They look expensive, or rather you think they might have looked expensive if they weren't sitting awkwardly on the wall with rips through them. One of a man with black hair, his eyes seeming to bore into your own as if he was alive, is decorated with blood. It’s practically shredded but for some reason his torso and face remain intact enough to be recognizable. Maybe Astarion has kept it as a reminder. 

Finally you reach a room, you're confused but you hear murmuring from inside so you reach for the door handle. But his hand catches your wrist before you reach it, letting go to put a finger to his lips. His voice is hushed, “quiet my little mouse.” But he motions for you to look through the crack of the door. You do. 

Inside your parents stand, nervously conversing. They're here. You almost rejoice, cry out in relief, but remain silent in fear of the set of teeth standing flush against your back. He’s so close you can feel his breath breeze against your ear. You look back to him, meeting his gaze but he shakes his head and turns your head back with his long finger against your chin. Their voices are hushed, sure, but you can still hear them clear enough to be disgusted. 

“I just… I don't know if I can do this to her, William.” Your mothers gaze is cast down, holding your fathers hands in front of her. He removes one from her grip to cup her cheek and force her gaze up. 

“Think of how good this will be for us. This money will ensure we never feel stress again my dear. Please.. Brenna, my love, she wants this, she has always wanted this. She will be happy here,” Your mothers gaze seems unsure at your fathers statements so he continues, “She will be, eventually.” 

You watch as your mother reaches towards the bed, lifting a dress made from a fabric you cant even recognize and she seems to ponder. ‘No mom. Say no.’ You plead silently, hoping that your mother-daughter connection can be strengthened in this moment more than it has ever been before. But you see it to be a pointless thought as a smile, albeit small, appears on her face. “Okay.. She is his.” 

Like a rock your stomach drops, you reach to burst into the room but Astarions grip returns to your arm, holding you in place. “Still think they will come for you?” He drags you along with him as he walks back down the hallway, leaving the door behind and, you realize, your parents forevermore. 

“You paid them off..” You push him, watching as he stumbles and lets his fingers fall from your arm. 

“It is not my fault your parents value money more than their own daughter.” His voice is sharp, and rises over you as his back straightens out. You're sure he isn’t even that much taller than you but his tone, and the way he holds himself make him tower over you, if not metaphorically. 

His statement is true, and that steadiness that you have been holding onto since you met his gaze is suddenly broken. Tears prick at your waterline. Your stubbornness has collapsed and it has you collapsing to the floor along with it. Your breath catches in your chest, and you try so hard not to let this display become more than it already has but you begin to cry. Like a child. Blubbering, shaky inhales, loud sobs echoing through the hallway. 

Astarion lowers himself to his knees in front of you, palm landing on your cheek to lift your eyes to him. “They might not see your value, but I do. You have wished to be a noble. A queen. A ruler. And I will make you one, my dear.” His hand is so much warmer than it had seemed in the dark, and you somehow feel worse as you stare into his crimson eyes. They are not comforting, he is not even trying. This is for his own personal gain. 

“I need someone to rule by my side,” He seems to squeeze out the words ‘by my side’ like he doesn’t believe it himself. But you are delirious. You have been drugged. Your parents have just abandoned you for money. You will never see your friends again. So you believe him, because it is the only thing that you can hold onto at this moment. His words, his hand against your skin, is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind further. 

“A noble?”

He has to hide the hunger that flashes across his eyes. This is easy. An easy game and he is winning it. You have basically already agreed already. He realizes at this moment that the weeks he spent observing you and having his people report your every move to him were not a waste. He has found the exact way to make you easy. You have fended for yourself the entirety of your teenage years, felt no consequence, you have no idea how to deal with not getting your way. But he has made it seem, somehow, that his way is the way you wish to live. You will agree. 

“Yes my dear. A noble. My queen. My lady. You will be mine.. won't you?”

A nod is all you can muster. 

“That's a good pet. You'll make such a pretty spawn for me."

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

hi! i literally love how you write❤️

could you write a fluff with a little bit of nsfw (if you dont take nsfw requests, just do it all fluff, i love fluff so i doesnt bother me) with a fem reader x cloud?

here's how i want the story, but you can obviosuly change it to your preferences.

y/n was a childood friend of cloud,and she didnt see him in A LOT of years. then she encounters him and they basically talk about rhe the good old times. a month passes and it's y/n's birthday, they all celebrate at the bar and give y/n a present. then it's cloud turn to give her the present, and he gives her a boquet and a letter with some photos from much years ago. after that, he kisses her and she kisses back. after the birthday party, cloud was a little bit drunk so y/n took him at her house to take care of him and cloud gets all clingy and says things to y/n. (if you want to add some nsfw, you can add it in this part of the story)

thank you❤️

Happy Birthday Slowpoke

pairing : cloud strife x fem! reader

description : an unexpected reunion leads to birthday wishes, unspoken love confessions, and drunken kisses.

warnings : small make out sesh but no smut, drinking alcohol (clouds gets drunk)

Sector 7 gets quieter at night. Never silent. But quiet. Walking through the streets is much nicer at night when there aren't so many people pushing to get through. It’s easier to think. Easier to take in your surroundings. 

There’s a certain hum that brings you comfort as you walk through the nearly empty streets. You remember when you first came to Sector 7, nervous and scared, and still dealing with the aftershock of Nibelheim. 

Nibelheim. Cloud.

God. How was he still stuck so deep in your head after years? 

You missed him. Him and his stupid blond hair. 

It was embarrassing how fast your head would turn at the sight of any blond man. Any. Even children sometimes. You had to catch a second glance to make sure you hadn’t just seen your childhood friend run past you as he giggled with his friends. It was never him, but you hoped. 

The peace of your walk was disturbed by a man walking past you. Bright blond hair fluff led up like the feathers of a chocobo in black clothes, and heavy footsteps. He pays you no mind as he walks past you, but you force yourself to do a double take. 

But this man is different. Even with his back turned to you he feels familiar. His hair stands up, the way Clouds did when he was a child. He’s dressed in the garb of a SOLDIER with a big sword on his back, Clouds always promised he’d become a SOLDIER. And he even walks the same way Cloud would as a kid, trudging along his path, god forbid someone think of him as anything but independent.

It all feels too coincidental. And without thinking your lips open to speak, “Cloud?” 

“Hm?” The man turns, only his head and shoulder so as to not pay you too much care, to face you. And your mind is flooding with nostalgia.

You're running after a young boy, blond haired, breathless laughs leave yours and his mouths. 

“Cloud!!! Wait for me!!” You squeal after the older 

boy whose legs carry him much faster than you can keep up with. And your tired legs, mixed with your lack of available air, are making it harder to match his pace. 

For a minute you think he doesn’t hear you, or maybe, that he doesn't want to listen. But soon enough he skids to a stop, looking back at you as he pants lightly. He wears a stupid smile on his face, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry y/n.. I keep forgetting I’m too fast for you. Your little legs can’t keep up,” He teases and lets out a juvenile giggle.

Finally you meet his side, matching his breath, “They can so!”. 

“Yeah right slow poke.” A childlike pout appears on your face, fitting for an 8 year old you. Always pouting. Always following after Cloud. 

You were never really sure why Cloud kept you around. But when you were kids, it never really mattered for more than a second. You just liked being around him, and him you.

“It’s not fair. You're older, your legs are longer!” He smiles down at you, laughing between heavy breaths.

“Only a year older.” 

“Still!” He stays quiet for a minute, letting you catch your breath without teasing you further. 

When you finally straighten back up, he’s still showing a giddy smile on his lips. Without a word, he grabs your hand in his, and takes off running the same way he had been before. Only this time you can keep up with him, pulled behind him.

“Cloud!” 

“Hm?” He turns to look behind him, a wide smile full of teeth on his face and eyes bright and blue. Still hopeful. 

His eyes meet yours and you realize the same blue eyes are looking into yours, only they are tired and the hope of his youth has been long gone. Yours probably look the same, usually. But right now they are wide and beginning to tear up. And his pupils, blown in recognition, are nearly as wide as yours.

“Y/n?”

“Cloud!” In an instant you latched onto him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Your face squished against his hard chest, probably wetting the front of his tank top from the tears slipping from your eyes.

He’s hesitant, but eventually one hand lands on your back and the other grabs onto your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer to his body. When you were kids, hugs were nothing out of the ordinary, but this one feels so different. You’ve been longing to hug him since you were 13, longing to see him since you were 17.

It’s overwhelming, the amount of emotion flowing through your body. You're happy to see your best friend again. You're sad that you haven’t seen him in so long. And you're angry that he left without ever saying goodbye. 

“Y..you.. are you real?” 

You look up to find his voice, wiping away the wetness from your face. His hands move to touch your face, then to your shoulders and finally fall to his sides. 

“Yes, Cloud. I'm real. When..how.. It’s been years Cloud.” 

“I know.”

There are a million things you’d like to say to him. You’d like to scream at him and punch at his chest until he bruises, not likely you could hit him hard enough to leave any marks but you’d try. But then you want to hug him, and run through the streets with him hand and hand like when you were kids. You don’t know what to say to him, where to start, or if you even should. 

“I missed you.” 

“I know.” He doesn’t say it back, and the lack of emotion that he shows is almost aggravating. But you don’t make it known to him how annoyed you are at him for his underwhelming reaction to this reunion. 

You invite him back to your apartment and, with a lot of convincing no and many ‘pleases’, he agrees to join you for an hour tops. His hesitancy hurts your feelings, you don’t admit that to him though, god forbid he realize that you hadn’t changed much since you were young. Since he clearly had. 

“You can sit down, you know.” He raises his brows, your acknowledgment of his awkwardness unexpected, but he takes a seat at your small table. The chair he sits in is the perfect size for you, and while he’s not the tallest man you’ve ever encountered, he almost seems to not fit on it. 

He is so silent, it stirs up years of pent up sadness and frustration deep within you, and inside you deeper still a fury of anger festers. But you push it away, locking those emotions up for another night when you haven’t just stumbled into your best friend of 10 years after 4 years of being apart. And you offer him a drink. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to for the last 4 years?” He is silent, stoic, hides his face by taking a sip from the glass of water you offered him.

“Not tonight.” Your teeth grind together inside your mouth, holding back your tongue from spewing words better left unsaid. He must see the clench in your jaw, the anger and disappointment in your eyes, “But another time. I will.” 

You fill the rest of the night with slow, and awkward, conversation. He doesn't make much effort to initiate it, but he answers your earnest questions without any complaint. At least the ones that don’t involve his work, his past, his lack of a goodbye. So the night moves slowly.

It doesn’t feel like very long has passed at all by the time he tells you he has to leave. 

“Already?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry, my days are busy.” 

“Are you staying in Sector 7?” He nods, you're not appreciating this strong and silent thing he has going on. 

“Working?” Another nod. “Well..if you find yourself free next month, we’re celebrating my birthday at the Seventh Heaven..uh.. it’s Tifa's bar actually.!”

“I know.”

“Oh.. yeah I guess, you would’ve gone to see her.” 

“I didn’t go t- .. I’m sorry. I should go.” He walks to the door, posture straight and stoic expression broken by a look of pity for just a moment. You walk him out. 

You can’t help yourself from speaking as your eyes meet his back, your mind is lacking in self restraint tonight, “Will you come?” 

He faces you, mouth parted before a small smile plants itself there, “I’ll try, y/n, goodnight.” And he’s gone into the night with quickened steps.

“Hey! Have some faith in him. I’m sure he’ll make it.” Tifa leans over the counter with a bright smile, sliding a drink into your hands. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

The bar isn’t full, but the people that matter are here, most of them anyway. 

Biggs and Wedge, probably already tipsy based on the volume they're producing, are playing darts in the corner. Barret sits on the other end of the bar, Marlene seated beside him as they whisper between each other. And Tifa stands in front of you, a positive grin lingering on her face. 

“Y/n!” Marlene springs off the barstool, with the help of her father, and rushes over to you with a clumsily wrapped gift in her hands. 

“For me? Well thank you, Marlene.” You smile down at her, gently taking the gift from her hands and unwrapping it to find a bracelet made of beads and charms. 

“I made it for you. And I have one too! See?” She holds up her wrist, which you hadn’t realized was hidden behind her back, to show you the matching bracelet she wears. You lift into your arms, holding her in a tight hug. 

“They’re perfect Marlene, thank you.” 

With her still in your arms, you resume conversation with Tifa, and are promptly joined by Barret. You love them, like family of course. But you are so focused on the lack of Clouds presence that you forget to fully no appreciate the ones around you. 

Tifa reaches behind her, into the fridge and pulls outs an obviously homemade cake. “We decorated it together,” She slides a wink Marlene’s way and begins lighting the candles. “Make a wish y/n.” 

You think for a moment, it’s childish that you're hoping for your wish to work so genuinely, but you take a deep breath and blow out your candles with a heavy breath. One sweep. 

“What’d you wish for y/n?” Marlene’s voice is loud beside you. 

“Hey now.. you know the rules, I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.” She pouts for a minute but her smile quickly returns when Tifa hands her a piece of cake. You take your own piece in your hands, sharing a smile with Tifa and Marlene. 

“Hey man! Good to see you. Glad you could make it.” 

Your eyes are moving faster than you can focus on the sound of Biggs’ words, finding the one person your wish standing in the doorway. In his hands he holds a bouquet, flowers of your favorite colors wrapped with paper and a pink bow.

He approaches you with a sheepish smile on his face, “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t know what to get you as a gift, I hope I got the colors right. Oh! And there’s this,” He reaches into his back pocket and hands you a sealed envelope. On its cover, your name is written in messy writing.

“These are ..beautiful, Cloud, thank you.” 

“Drink?” Tifa is cheery, as always, if not more so. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He takes a seat beside you and you try to hide the way your eyes linger on him. The muscles in his grown arms. The familiarity of his spiky hair. You're not so angry anymore, now that you've had time to process his return, rather longing for the relationship you had as kids. The closeness you’d been lacking in your friendships since he left.

“Are you gonna open it?” 

“What?” His voice brings you back to the moment, and you realize you’ve been ogling at him.

“The envelope..” 

“Oh! Yeah, right. Yeah.” 

You reach for it and carefully open it, trying not to rip the paper too badly. Tucked inside the envelope is a photo of the two of you as children and a folded up letter, reading : 

This is stupid. But I tried to write something so I wouldn’t have to say all this out loud.

I haven’t been around for a long time, so I don’t really know where we stand anymore. But as far as I know, you’ve been the only person I’ve been able to open up to about everything. 

Without you, I probably would’ve spent my childhood alone. 

When we were kids, I swore I’d be a SOLDIER. But to be honest it wasn’t all I thought it would be. And I’m sorry I left you for shinra.

And I know I should’ve said goodbye, and I probably hurt you when I left. But I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. 

You were my best friend or you are my best friend, doesn't matter. 

Happy Birthday Slowpoke.

He looks at you intensely as he tries to gauge your reaction. It’s a simple letter, and could be written by a child with a little effort. But it’s Cloud, and it’s the most you can ask from a man like him. It still has your hands wiping at your eyes.

“Hey, did you make her cry? No crying on your birthday!” Tifa returns, leaning over the counter to slide Cloud his drink, looking over at you. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I’m really good actually, thank you.. for this, Cloud”.

He nods, and you swear his cheeks redden, but he looks away before either you or Tifa can comment on it.

Cloud's drink is gone in moments, and he is asking for another, whilst making comfortable conversation with you. A ‘happy birthday’ ‘how’s your day been’ ‘what do you do for work now’ kind of comfortable. He doesn’t ask anything personal, does not dwell on the past, you almost wish he would. 

But you indulge him and his calculated questions, being satisfied with any conversation at all, and let the night flow.

It doesn't take long to realize that Cloud is not a drinker, or at least that he does not know his limits. It’s dark out now, and music plays from the jukebox, and Cloud sways drunkenly to a song. You can’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling weird seeing him be so free and not high strung. Not a SOLDIER, just a man.

He stands up, grabbing onto your arm to pull you over in front of the jukebox where Wedge is dancing with Tifa. 

“Careful Cloud!” You stumble after him, bumping into his chest as he pulls you. He doesn’t seem to notice, grabbing onto your hands to spin you and move you around. 

“You're a pretty good dancer now,” He moves you to face him, moving to the music still with a goofy smile on his face, “Do you remember.. when we..when we were kids and you would step on my feet ..everytime we danced.” 

You giggle at his slurred words, “You're so drunk right now.” 

“And you’re ..sso pretty..” He moves in closer, close enough that you can smell the liquor lingering on his lips. 

“Oh wow.. you're really drunk.. haha.” You make no effort to move away from him, but you laugh at his actions to relieve the awkwardness flowing from your body. 

“Mhm..” He closes the gap and places his lips against yours. Your hands find his chest, eyes falling close as you kiss him back. Your self control is weak, and you want to keep his lips against yours. But he's drunk, and your head is starting to spin.

Somehow you find the strength to push him away and he moves away with a pout on his puffy lips. 

“Let’s.. uh.. get you home, yeah?” 

“But I’m having fun!” He attempts to spin you, but he ends up making himself dizzy, “Actually, yeah.. that’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah.” You laugh at his flushed face, holding onto his arm as you say goodbye to everyone and leave the bar.

“Can we go to yours?” He doesn't let go of you, even after you’ve walked halfway down an empty Sector 7 road, but he has instead moved his grip to hold your hand to keep you close to him.

“My apartment?” 

“Mhm.”

“Yeah..yeah sure.” He leads you to your own apartment like he knows the route by heart, he’s only been there once and yet he acts like he lives there by the speed he finds it.

Once inside he collapses onto your bed, not much space in the apartments, so you suppose that was normal considering there was no couch. 

“Do you want some water?” He shakes his head, laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. 

You move towards the stereo on the opposite wall, turning on the radio so there is noise for you to focus on instead of his arms as they rest underneath his head.

“I missed you too .. y'know.” Clouds words barely make their way to you, his voice quiet and music humming just loud enough.

“Hm?” You turn to face him, moving to sit on the ledge of the bed in front of where he lays. 

“The night I saw you,” He leans on his elbow to hold himself up, “you said that you missed me. and I didn’t say it back. I did. I missed you. I just didn’t know what to say to you then.”

You don’t say anything, you're not sure what to say anyways. 

He looks into your eyes for a few minutes before pulling you by your arm so you lay beside him, but he shifts positions so he holds himself above you with his hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes.”

His lips meet yours once more. But unlike the bar this kiss is calculated, not clumsy and childish. He is drunk, and it’s obvious by the taste that remains on his lips even after he has licked them clean multiple times.

Your fingers find his hair, his knee finds its way between your legs and your chest begins to move quicker. He moves to latch his lips onto your neck, sucking spots that will definitely be purple and red tomorrow, while his hands find their place under your shirt on your hips.

And while you’d love for Cloud to continue his journey, the fact remains that he is drunker than a teenager on their 18th birthday, and you want this moment to be one enjoyed sober. So you pull his head up to meet his eyes, and very puffy lips. 

“Your drunk Cloud. I think we better save this for another night.” 

He pouts, face flushed, but he nods with a sigh. Getting comfy he finds a place to rest his head, on your chest, but his hands don’t move from your skin. If anything you feel his grip tighten, keeping you close as he practically lays on top of you. 

“I missed you, a lot. I thought I'd never see you again when you left.” Your fingers find his hair once more, rubbing at his scalp and playing with blond strands.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d see you either.” 

The room is quiet, except for the soft hum of music flowing from the stereo. His fingers tense and relax again in sync with his slow breaths, moving to trace the softness of your skin. But eventually his movements stop and he seems to still. 

“Cloud?”

There are still a million things you’d like to ask, like to say. And so many years of words you’d like to catch up on between him, months of love confessions that you had admitted to Tifa that you’d like to share with him. But the soft snores that begin to leave his mouth tell you he’s in no mood to talk right now.

“Goodnight soldier..”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

pairing : dean winchester x (fem) reader

summary : childhood friends turned strangers reunited when an incident occurs with the winchesters father

You had known the Winchester boys since they were kids. When Sam was still looking up to his older brother. And when Dean hadn’t developed his ‘have no feelings’ mentality. You were between the two of them always, literally and physically, older than Sam, younger than Dean and always between them. You were taller than both of them. They were still scrawny. Couldn’t keep up with you. And they could never yell at you because of their frequent voice cracks, you’d break out laughing and they couldn’t stay angry when they saw you so happy. 

All your free time was spent together, the three of you. Even though you were friends with both of them, you always felt closer to Dean. He seemed to get you more, he encouraged you to do dumb things and then followed after you. And then Sam would be there to panic and worry when one or both of you got hurt. Dean would always walk it off with a smile on his face, blood covering his knees, his elbow, his face, wherever he had gotten hurt. Didn’t matter to him, he was having fun. Usually he’d check in on you before he even thought about his own injuries.

Dean was your person, your best friend. Your first childish crush, the first boy you talked to another girl about, the first boy you held hands with. Sure he was holding your hand to make you run faster, a game of tag and Sam was it, but it still had your little heart pounding.

But then Dean had started helping his dad when he’d go on his hunting trips. More than he was before. Sam too. When Sam started staying home, refusing to go, coming over to your house with his homework only to forget about it and start ranting about his brother, you were relieved. Sam was more focused on school, and it made him much better company than Dean. Even though he was a couple years younger than you, he was still one of your closest friends. 

It hurt at first. Dean stopped saying goodbye when he’d go. He stopped coming over as soon as he got back. He no longer gave you a hug when you’d leave their house, he usually wouldn’t even come out of his room if you were over. You tried to talk to him once or twice but he’d give you short, indifferent answers, he didn’t even want to speak to you anymore. 

So Sam and you got closer. He let you in on their families biggest secret. Told you about his childhood, told you about what Dean and his father did when they went on their ‘hunting trips’. And when he saw how interested you were, he told you more.

He was disappointed. He knew how you felt about Dean. He could see it in your eyes, when Dean would walk past you without saying anything and you’d silently beg him to look over at you. He’d always known that you’d go for his older brother, Dean and you were closer in age. Sam knew Dean was a better match for you, it was so obvious when you’d become so interested in the paranormal and he was so interested in getting away from it.

Their whole childhood was a competition. He knew that, whether Dean knew that or not Sam had no idea. But Sam knew that Dean and he had always liked you. Both of them. And as a child he always hated seeing you so happy with him, but now he hated seeing you so sad without Dean’s attention even more than seeing you happy. You couldn’t help it, you had never looked at any other man the way you looked at Dean. 

When Sam went to college there was no more reason to go over to the Winchester house, no one was ever there anyways. If they were, they had no interest in seeing you. Deep down you still craved Dean’s approval, yearned for his attention the way you had it when you were kids. Yearning so much so that when an opportunity arose for you to start hunting on your own, you took it. You figured you had known enough for a small, local job, Sam had taught you enough. And had tested your stamina and strength your whole childhood. 

You were hoping it would make you feel better, saving people's lives, but it didn’t. It only made you miss your boys more.

And then one day, you get a call. 

It must be midnight when the phone rings. You pull your warm sheets off your body, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor under your bed. From across the room your phone is echoing. When you answer it the voice on the other line almost makes you drop the phone, heart picking up in speed. It’s Sam.

“Sam?” Your voice is shaky, probably groggy, but you can't tell. You’re trying to even out your breathing, trying to make sure this is a real phone call and not something you're dreaming up. 

“Hey, y/n, I’m sorry for calling so late.” 

“No, it's fine. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” 

“It’s about our dad. Can we come inside?” 

“What?” You practically fly over to the window, tripping over your rug in the process, you peak your head through the curtains. Outside there's an Impala sitting in front of your house, Sam stands there leaning against the door. He gives you a wave as he sees your head appear. 

“You’re in front of my house.” 

“Yes we are.” You didn’t catch it the first time. Sam said ‘we’. Meaning Dean was also here. 

“Is she gonna let us in or what?” Gruff voice. Not Sam’s must be Deans. It’s been years and it still hurts to hear the indifference in his voice.

“I’ll be downstairs in a second.”

Sam hangs up and you're instantly searching your floor for the pajama pants you kicked off in your sleep. Blue plaid pants, and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. The one Dean had gifted you when he got his first ever paycheck. You hated how even after years of being ignored and pushed aside, he still finds a way to be a part of your life. 

Outside, Dean finally steps out of his precious car. “Y’know Sam I really don’t understand why we're here. Dad is still missing, and I thought you were invested in this search. Now we're here, sitting like dogs on your ex-girlfriends doorstep.” 

“Ex-girlfriend?” 

“Yeah? You guys broke up when you went to college I assume, or else you wouldn’t have been with Jess.” 

“Dean, jesus man, y/n was never my girlfriend.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Tell me you shoved her away for the entirety of your teenage years because you were jealous. Why couldn’t you just admit you were in love with her before you ran away from it.” Sam runs an irritated hand through his hair, not impressed by his brother's inability to speak to anyone before jumping to conclusions, all his life.

Dean’s jaw clenches, angry at himself, angry at Sam, irritated and tired from being on the road. But he holds it back, “Whatever, this really isn’t important right now. You're gonna tell me why we're here or what?” 

“She’s a hunter, Dean, I looked her up. I think she could help, she’s been around, leaving tracks.”

Sam is relieved when you finally open the door, tired of the conversation he’s currently having. Your hair is up, lazily thrown into an updo because you didn’t have time to brush it. Dean notices the shirt you’re wearing instantly, you kept it, all these years.

You usher them in, leading them to your kitchen where they explain everything to you. You believe them, obviously, he doesn’t take very much to convince you of their story. Sam had practically prepared you for this exact moment since you were kids. And in the morning you're setting off in the car with them, a duffle bag full of all your important shit thrown on the floor of the backseat.

Weeks later, you’ve gotten used to being around them again. The dynamic is weird now, you’re closer with Sam then you are with Dean. And you watch Dean flirt with a new girl in every town you visit. Little you would be screaming at the thought. 

You keep up with them, it almost surprises them. Almost. 

A particularly hard job throws your memories back to your childhood. Dean and you rush in, fists first, no thoughts. And Sam is there to pick up the pieces. But you get injured, worse than any of your childhood injuries. 

Scratches cover your body. Bruises paint your skin with blue and purplish tones, your arms, your ribs, your face. Your lip is bleeding, consistently, because the cut on it keeps opening. Even through the pain, when Sam and Dean find a new job, you climb into the car with them to get to the next motel. 

But your plans of joining them on this job are destroyed when Dean tells you to stay in the motel. 

“No way! I’m going with you guys.” 

‘Y/n look at the state you're in, you’re not coming.” 

“I’m fine!” 

“Y/n please-” “Sam wait for me outside.” Dean’s eyes are serious, Sam goes to protest but decides against it when Dean's eyebrows furrow. He leaves without any argument, it was always like this as kids with them too.

“You’re not coming. End of story.” 

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to control me.”

“Okay you can say that, but I am telling you, you’re not coming with us.” 

“Dean.”

“Y/n.” You’re fighting with your eyes. He doesn’t want to argue with you, he actually wishes he could bring himself to apologize. You're scared that if you start yelling everything you’ve wanted to scream at him since you were 16 might fall out. 

“You’re not coming.” 

“Why not?” Your voice is raised. 

“Because I can’t handle losing you from my stupid decisions again.” He’s running a hand through his hair, sitting down on the bed across from you.

“What?” 

“When we were kids I lost you because I couldn’t handle the idea of you and Sam being together. I pushed away the one girl I have ever felt anything real for. I would watch as you left the house and it would kill me not to say goodbye, I always thought it might be the last time. And then you stopped coming over and I never got to say I was sorry. It’s been years, and I have never been able to stop thinking about you."

His breathing is jagged, you’re quiet, you sit with a mix of guilt and years of what you thought was unrequited love stirring in your brain. 

“And now, you wanna go out there and get thrown around some more? I barely let you come with us in the first place, I can’t let you do this. I won’t allow you to be hurt again because I made a stupid decision.” 

“Okay..” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay, I’ll stay.” A breath flows from his chest, relief, weight lifted. He stands up, you follow his actions and stand up in front of him. You hesitate for a minute but eventually allow yourself to wrap your arms around his torso, “On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’ll stay if you promise to come back alive. Y’know, cause I won't be there to save your ass.” You pull your chest away just enough to look up at him, his green eyes find yours, he’s chewing his lip. His hand finds the back of your hair, a smirk now planted on his face.

“C’mon, you know I can handle myself just fine sweetheart.”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could write an Astarion x reader where Astarion cant go under sunlight yet he misses it so much. And maybe he comes across the reader who’s soaking in the sun and he admires them and then later he tells them that he misses the warmness of the sunlight and the reader cups his cheeks with their hands, letting Astarion feel the warmness that was left by the sun on the readers skin. Idk if this makes any sense but it’s a cute concept in my head 😭🫶🏻💕 thank you!!

You Are the Sun to Me

pairing : astarion x (female) reader

summary : astarion watches as you do the thing he longs to do the most, bask in the suns warmth. you allow him to feel it through your skin.

When you arrived in Baldur's Gate you figured your life would be different. And when you killed Cazador with Astarion by your side, you were sure that nothing would ever negatively affect the two of you again. So when the time came to defeat the elder brain, you were happy and excited. 

But when you found out that Astarion’s tadpole was no longer protecting him from the sun, your heart broke. Aching for the young man, the two of you fled from the city. He liked life on the road more anyways and you were willing to sacrifice the city for the wellbeing of your only love. 

Besides, camping around had its perks. Astarion was usually in charge of picking a spot for the night, and thankfully his taste was unmatched in everything he did. He always managed to find the most beautiful scenery. 

“I could never allow my lover to sleep on some shabby deer path, or in a smelly bog. What kind of man would I be? I know you’d enjoy a spot with a beach so much more,” He would say the most convincing words, kissing your hands, when you tried to convince him the spot you had first found was going to be fine. He would have no such thing, wouldn’t even humor your idea.

And of course, he was right, as he always was. When he finally picked a spot, a large open space for your tent and fire, and the defining feature, a river cut off from the world by a line of trees. It was like the world had put it there for the two of you alone, and he knew exactly where to find it. 

Throughout the day, when Astarion would spend his time reading inside of the tent to hide from the light, you would sneak off to the nearby river bank. 

With your clothes thrown haphazardly along the shore, you would lay in the sand and bask in the heat of the sun's light. It was your time to yourself, to relax, a time when you could let your guard down.

But Astarion had always been one to take advantage of an unsuspecting eye. So while you lay, with your eyes closed, relaxed in the sun's light. He would watch from the tree line, pupils wide with adoration.

A part of him was filled with envy of your ability to lay so freely in the sunlight. Another part was saddened to think that he would never be able to feel its warmth against his skin any longer. As bad as it was to have his mind violated by the tadpole, he missed the sun more than he had the first time. With the tadpole he had gotten another taste, but he never would again. 

Within all of his anguish, Astarion still found himself able to look at your figure taking in the sunlight, and still find your beauty of far more importance. It was hard to be envious of such a beautiful creature. 

“Astarion?”

Startled by your voice, he snaps out of his trance, and finds your eyes. 

“Sorry my love. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Just wanted to appreciate the scenery.” He settles his arm against the tree beside him to hold him up as he converses with you from afar. 

Slowly, you stand up to walk over to him with wobbly legs, tingly from not walking. 

“I can come back to camp if you want. I just need a moment.” 

“No no. Enjoy the sun.” Your heart aches once more as you see a sudden sadness glaze over his eyes, his lips purse as he holds back the emotions he truly feels. 

“Are you okay?” You approach his body now, standing under the darkness of the trees, hands reaching up to hold his face in the warmth of your hands. His face lifts, cheek pushing against your hand as he tries to get closer to the heat.

“You're so warm, my dear.” His cold fingers land atop your hand, a heavy contrast against the heat you had collected from the sun, “I miss this feeling.”

He feels his eyes begin to collect water but he swallows back any sadness, choosing to indulge in your warmth. You pull him into your body, his hands reaching around to feel at your back. Even though you had been laying on your back it was still warm, far warmer then his hands which sent a shiver up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You place your face into his neck, gently kissing his collarbone and neck.

“For what, darling?” 

“You’ll never get to walk in the sun again.” Your own eyes start to brim with tears, empathetic for his inability to feel the sun. He pulls away just enough to look down at you, slender fingers playing with the flesh on your waist.

Slowly he lifts his hands to wipe away stray tears sliding down your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, “As far as I’m concerned I never need to walk in the sun again while I have you on my side, my dear. You are the sun to me. You give me all the warmth I need, and your smile, gosh, I don’t think the sun could match how it brightens my day.”

His words send heat to your cheeks, which he takes advantage of by placing his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in to kiss your lips gently. 

“We could come back out when the moon is over us. Moonbathe, no sun needed.” He chuckles at your attempt to reconcile the fact that he can’t join you as you sunbathe.

“I would love nothing more.” 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

HII im a huge fan of ur writing and ur one of the few final fantasy writers on here thats active 😭😭 i was hoping i could request some zack fair fluff? like before the events of crisis core, maybe he accidentally gets himself sick during work and angeal knows he'll just keep showing up for work bc he wants the promotion to first class so bad, so he gets zacks childhood bestfriend (reader) to go keep an eye on him and make sure he actually rests lol. zack keeps insisting hes ok but reader is having none of it and takes care of him, which eventually leads to a confession bc zack doesnt understand why reader cares so much and it just leads to everything coming out. i hope that made sense lol this is my first request :) dont feel pressured to do this of course!!!

Since We Were Kids

pairing : zack fair x (female) reader

summary : zack is determined to reach first class. so much so that he will push through one of the most debilitating cold's he's ever had. angeal attempts to get him home, calling in zacks childhood best friend for help.

“Angeal! Come on! You know how important this is to me..” Zack lets out a pitiful whine, attempting to persuade his superior, before his whine turns into a horrific coughing fit. He doesn’t have to look up now that Angeal’s face has made no changes, he is stoic and his decision is final, Zack will not be staying for work this week. 

“You can take a week off.. Besides you're of no use to anybody with the state you're in. Go home, get some rest.”

“Fine..” 

“I mean it Zack..” 

“Yeah..yeah..i heard ya.” Zack crosses his arms, heavy sigh passing through his lips, eyebrows furrowing as he walks away from where Angeal stands. He was barely sick..a little cough wasn’t gonna hold him back from becoming a first class SOLDIER.

Zack barely lasts 20 minutes away from his training before his sword is back in his hands. His constant coughing fits are feeling him with annoyance but he powers through them to continue swinging away with the chunk of metal in his hands. 

But why was he so tired? He usually had so much energy. Why was his sword so hard to carry? It never had been before.. 

And why did it feel like someone's hand was on his shoulder? “Zack!”

He jumps away when there is suddenly shouting coming from beside him, his head pounding in a way that wasn't noticeable until this moment, “Angeal! Hey pal..what’re you..uh..doing here?”

“What’re you doing here? I told you to go home.” 

“I can’t go home, this is too important, I’m not even that sick..” Even Zack’s faith in the statement is beginning to falter, especially when his eyes become blurry from the dizziness pooling at the front of his head. 

“Go home.” 

“No way!” Zack expects Angeal to disagree again but he doesn’t, he actually doesn't say anything, he just walks away. It’s so out of character that Zack debates just listening to him and leaving so he doesn’t get demoted, but he decides against it and continues to practice while sweat pools on his skin. 

It doesn’t take long for Angeal to return, Zack isn't worried when he hears his heavy footsteps from down the hallway, but he is unaware of the other pair of feet following close behind.

At this point, Zack is just staying for spite, his body is exhausted and he is barely swinging his sword, and his coughing fits are becoming more frequent to the point where he has to stop moving to take deep breaths. 

“Zack. Enough is enough. Your friend can take you home now.”

“Huh?” Zack turns and almost starts coughing again, but only because the breath hitches in his throat, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be seeing him like this. It’s pitiful, his inability to stay strong for training is embarrassing, and your gaze full of pity isn;t helping in the way it usually does. 

“She’s taking you home.” Zack opens his mouth to argue once more but Angeal has had enough, “No arguing. My decision is final, if I see you here again before I say you can return I will demote you myself, good luck reaching first class then..”

Zack looks defeated but he closes his mouth, and drops his sword with a loud clang, before trudging towards your side with his arms crossed tightly. His mannerisms make a giggle slip out of you, he looks like a child, but you quickly mask it as a cough when he shoots you a serious glare. Also reminiscent of a child but if you laughed again he might punch you. 

He isn’t happy about having to leave, especially being escorted out by a lady half his size, but he doesn’t make any complaints when you intertwine your arm in his to keep him stable. 

“I’m fine, y’know. I’m only going home because Angeal made me.” You nod along with him as he talks, hiding the disbelief running through your head. God was this kid stubborn, but it made you happy to know that his training hadn't changed the way he was when you were kids.  

“Zack, you need to rest..” 

“I need to reach first class.” 

“How do you expect to do that if you can’t even hold your sword up, dork.” His face scrunches up, but to your surprise he doesn’t pull his body away, he actually does the opposite and pulls your arm closer to his body. He’s using you to hold up a large amount of his body weight, but you allow him as long as he needs. 

When you finally reach Zack’s home, it takes more effort to get him into bed then you’d care to admit, he truly acts like a child insisting that he ‘doesn’t need to get any sleep because he feels perfectly fine’ followed by a coughing fit and him having to sit down because he feels dizzy. You promise him the soup that he likes if he gets into bed, to which he begrudgingly agrees to. 

After practically forcing food down his throat, he finally allows himself to be tired and his head falls back onto the pillows. You place a cold cloth on his forehead, after feeling it with your own hands and deciding that his fever might only be worsening. How’d he keep training while being this sick? 

You watch as he dozes off, you can tell he is trying to stay awake so he doesn’t fully admit that he is sick, but his body is taking over. He finally looks at peace, even though his hair is sticking to his forehead and his breathing is heavy, at least he’s getting some rest.

You plan on leaving, really you do, but you get so caught up in the image of him sleeping that you find your own eyes falling closed, head resting by his side against the bed. 

When your eyes open again it’s dark outside, you can’t tell how long you’ve been sitting with him but from the darkness pouring into the room, it’s longer then you meant for. You worry for a moment, worry that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that Zack got up hours ago to sleep away from you, but when you turn the lamp on beside his bed you find him in the same spot you’d left him. 

You’re greedy with how you look at him, you miss being so close to him. The proximity makes you realize how much you’ve missed him since he started his training, you hardly see him. And you wish the circumstances for finally seeing him again weren't because he was sick, and rather because he actually wanted to see you. But you’d take any time you could get with your best friend. 

He stirs suddenly and you let your hand fall on top of his, tangling your fingers in his, as a way to bring him some comfort in his sleep. His skin is warm and clammy, heating up your hands, it should be gross but the feeling of his hand in yours fills your stomach with a flurry of butterflies.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open and you can tell he is dazed, the way he scans the room to gather his surroundings before landing on you once more confirms your thoughts. 

“Y/n?” Zack’s voice is hoarse, causing him to clear his throat before he continues talking, “What’re you still doing here? How long have you been here?”

For a minute your heart pumps inside your chest faster than before, nervousness building in your stomach, “I’m sorry..I fell asleep a couple..hours ago I think. I didn’t want to leave right away in case you woke up again but I never meant to fall asleep.” 

“Why’re you apologizing..” His fingers, which you had forgotten were tangled in your own, tense against your skin and tighten their grip on your hand. 

“Sorry..” 

Your second apology causes him to let out a laugh. A laugh that immediately has him sitting up because he coughs so hard his lungs hurt, and he squeezes your hand tighter in his lap while he tries to catch a breath. 

When he finally catches a break, taking deep breaths while your hand slides up and down his back, he looks at you pitifully, “You’re gonna get sick..go home.” 

“You're crazy if you think I'm going home. I’m not leaving, who’s gonna take care of you?” 

“I can take care of myself, you know..”

“This is news to me.” You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he responds by sticking his tongue out tiredly. He can’t even retort like he usually does. He doesn't have the energy to argue and tell you to leave so you don’t get sick, Zack isn’t even sure he wants you to leave anymore. 

“You don’t have to stay..” 

“I want to, Zack. I care about you.” You can’t tell if his cheeks were already flushed or if they suddenly became red as you spoke to him, but either way you were sure your face was mirroring his.  

He falls back onto the pillows, asking you quietly if you'll get him some water and another blanket before he gets the chills, and you happily oblige. Even while he’s sick, he is able to feel content and you’re happy to be the reason. 

Zack's fingers find your hand again, squeezing gently as you sit on the chair beside him, “..Training is kicking my ass.” 

“Yeah..but I’m sure it’ll be all worth it eventually,” You try not to let his spirits get down especially while he is in such a tired state, his training put on pause because of his sickness, and you ponder telling him more, “I miss you, you know..a lot.”

A small smile appears on his face, eyes puffy and bags under his eyes, and he looks towards you, “Yeah?” 

You can only nod, embarrassed by his lack of affirmation that he has felt the same over the months he’s been training. 

“I missed you too..” And the embarrassment flees from your body instantaneously, while his thumb rubs over the top of your knuckles. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, him playing with your knuckles as he tries to hold back the aggressive coughs that threaten to leave his mouth. His head is pounding, and he should feel like shit, but he truly can’t bring himself to when you're looking into his eyes all concerned and you’re letting him play with your hands with no complaints.

“Why’d you stay?” His voice startles you, and you try to pretend that you weren't staring at him and admiring every detail of his face. 

“I already told you..” You roll your eyes, letting out a huff before leaning on the palm of your hand, in all honesty you were ready to doze off while Zack looked around your hands and face. 

“No..no..why’d you stick around?” His question confuses you and you have to think about what he might mean and then it clicks. You hadn’t realized that he might be aware of how much time his training takes up. It hadn’t occurred to you that Zack could focus on anything but becoming first class.

He’d been neglecting your friendship, but when Angeal rang and asked you to pick Zack up you agreed without hesitation, you forgot instantly about how angry his schedule made you. 

You’re not sure how to answer him. You could tell him the truth, that you had been madly in love with your black haired friend since you were children.

Or you could continue to lie, and claim that you had only stayed around because of your long lasting friendship that had absolutely no underlying romantic feelings that neither one of you could talk about. 

“C’mon Zack..” 

He stares into your eyes, right through you. He knows, he already knows, you don’t have to say anything to him. As he looks at you, he's pleading with you to admit it to him and it makes your stomach crawl with nervousness. 

“Y’know I’d do anything for you..been like that since we were kids.” His eyebrows furrow at your attempt to dodge an admission that you hadn’t been prepared for an hour ago, you still weren't ready to admit to him that you were in love with him. 

“Y/n..do you love me?” 

Again silence fills the room and you’re unsure what to say to the expectant boy. You think, for a second, that he's joking. But his eyes are filled with such sincerity and genuine interest. He wants to know, and he doesn't seem to care if his question comes off bluntly.

When you don’t immediately respond he continues in your place, “Because I think I’m in love with you and I know I’d do anything for you. And I think you feel the same way. I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn't ignore Angeal’s call, and tell me to deal with this by myself. I know I haven't been around like I should be. But you’re here anyway..”

“Zack please..of course I do. Been like that since we were kids,” You smile softly, repeating yourself and look down at your entangled hands.

He doesn’t let that allow that for very long before he is grabbing your chin to turn your head to face him once more, “I’m not gonna kiss you, because I don't want you getting sick. But I promise you, as soon as this sickness is gone I’m gonna be all over you..” 

Even though his words, words you would've never expected to hear when you dragged him into his room just hours earlier, send a nervous shiver down your body you still find a way to tease him, “Careful Zack. Get too excited and your lungs might act up again.”

“Can I ask you to stay the night?” 

How could you ever say no. 

“Of course, Zack, anything for my first class SOLDIER.” 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hi hii, I've seen your requests are open and I was wondering if I could request somewhat one-sided Astarion x reader/Tav/he catches feelings first kinda situation??? Pretty please, love your writing 🙏

Too Generous Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion has travelled by your side for weeks and it makes his stomach churn when he grows to trust you, the trust turns into something more and he feels even worse.

warnings : astarion's scars, reader is injured.

For weeks Astarion had been travelling by your side. And for weeks he was under the impression he was only using you to get to Baldur's Gate safely. You were a powerful ally, an asset to his plan of revenge. 

He would stand by your side, of course, and watch your back as you had always watched his. But he couldn’t hold back how aggravating you were, you didn’t care whether he approved of your decisions or not. You made your own, walked your own street, and he was forced to follow it if he wanted to keep you around. 

And for weeks he had watched you talk your way out of situations, or convince a trader to give you free supplies. A master with your words. He watched as you lied and manipulated, and it made his faith in you soar. 

But then you would turn around and help a helpless child or a person that meant nothing to you, and his respect for you waivered. Why did they deserve any of your help? It’s not like they helped you in any way. And they definitely wouldn’t help you the same way you chose to help them if it were you stranded on the side of the road with no help. They would leave you, he was sure of it. He would, just like everyone had done to him, no one was deserving of your help if they had nothing to give you in return. 

So constantly you would find yourself in front of him, as he yelled at you and glared down at you with fire burning behind his eyes. He was tired of wasting time with people who didn’t matter. “Must you stop to help every worthless person we find on the side of the road?” His voice is venomous and unimpressed. It’s not the first time he has made a complaint, and him continuing to be unacknowledged was becoming more and more irritating each time he tried.

“You’d regret saying that if it was you on the side of the road, and we left you to grovel in your own misery.” Your arms are crossed, disciplinary stare on your face like he’s a child. He hates it. 

It’s not like anyone ever stopped to help him in the past.

Too generous. Too kind. 

Sure it gave you allies, and more often than not they would reward you for your good deed. But still, you could’ve killed them and taken it from their cold, dead body. Or he could’ve pickpocketed them for you, no time wasted. 

Astarion only feels his opinion change when your actions begin to affect him and not just the strangers you pass by through your travels. 

Suddenly he feels himself growing overwhelmingly close to you. Close enough that he feels he’s safe to tell you about Cazador and the threat he may play in your life in the future, and in a moment of privacy, just you and him, he offers to show you the scars on your back. You're not sure what to say at first, you just stare and it makes his skin crawl with insecurity. 

He shivers when your fingers meet his back to trace along the lines, “He did this?” He can only nod, embarrassed by this moment of transparency and weakness. God forbid he try to speak and all that comes out is a wobbly, pathetic cry where a snide comment laced with sarcasm should be.

You grab his shoulder to turn him around, holding both his hands in your own with a tightness that has his skin crawling in a different way. “I won’t let him hurt you again, we won’t, all of us, you'll never have to fight him alone. We’ll help you, no matter what,” Your thumbs swipe across the skin of his pale and shaky fingers and it sends heat up his cold arm,  “I’ll help you.” 

It’s so genuine and so sincere, it almost makes the air catch in his lungs. 

His eyes widen, and he has to force himself to hide how grateful he is to hear the words leave your mouth. He hadn’t realized that he’d forgotten what it was like to feel safe. To have someone who cares for him so much that they would put their life in danger to protect him. You were always kind to the helpless and needy, he just never thought he would allow himself to fit that description again, especially not in front of you.

You barely know him. You barely know his story, you’ve only seen his scars once and briefly heard of his former master's cruelty. But you’re ready to lay your life down for his cause. For him. To protect him. He feels lighter, holding the weight of Cazadors power on two pairs of shoulders instead of his alone..

Too generous. Too kind. 

For a while, he finds himself to be less annoyed by the way you stop to help. He doesn't mind as much when it inevitably slows the journey down. It still bothers him but finds it easier to manage when he sees the satisfactory smile you wear after. The sight almost makes a proud smile appear on his own face, smile lines subtly deepening before he wipes the evidence away.

You impress him, through it all. You hold your own while managing to deal with everyone else’s problems on your back, and while he hates the way you try to help everyone, he admires the way you handle it all.

Again his opinion changes when you reach Moonrise Towers. Whilst exploring, you meet a woman named  Araj, a drow, who offers a potion of immense power in exchange for Astarions teeth sinking into her skin. The mere idea has you scoffing, the potion would be nice but you would never jeopardize Astarions freedom in exchange for something that would only benefit yourself. 

But she pushes, even after Astarion declines. He is clearly uncomfortable and her continuous attempt to convince him has your blood boiling, face beginning to develop a red tinge from frustration.

“Excuse me if I’m mistaken but I’m sure I just heard him say no..”

“And I’m sure you can tell him to change his mind, he is yours, correct? I assume he follows your orders.” Your eyebrow raises at the suggestion that Astarion was anything but his own being. Your party is murmuring behind you, Karlach’s hand finding a place on your shoulder to tell you to calm down before things get out of hand. 

Even Astarion feels himself becoming concerned for how this would pan out. He’d never seen you so angry. A part of him was touched that you could be so angry on his behalf. But the majority of his mind is conflicted on if he should step in before you rip this woman's head clean off her shoulders. 

You feel your mouth open to shout at the drow in front of you but Astarions fingers slip within your own, squeezing in warning. Your mind clears a little, and you take a deep breath to calm your breathing. Karlach and Shadowheart stare at the scene in silence, but Karlach’s fingers give your shoulder another reassuring squeeze before slipping away. 

“I don’t own him, if that’s what you're trying to imply. He’s his own person. Who can make his own decisions, and he said no. That’s the last I’ll hear of the matter.”

A vampire spawn, a slave to Cazador for so many years, suddenly with the ability to act on his own and think for himself. His heart swells. He can’t think of any other word to describe how he feels but grateful. But maybe something else is lingering deeper underneath? Whatever the feeling is, it clouds his mind and puts a weight on his chest.

Later at camp he dwells on it, it’s hard not to see how your tired eyes consistently meet him. What could you be thinking? He can’t stop focusing on the way you speak to everyone but him, and jealousy is beginning to fester around his tent. What did he do to make you ignore him? When you finally reach him to say goodnight, his jealousy from earlier returns and he wants to send you away, but he can’t. 

“Thank you..” He’s cut you off before you can say goodnight and walk away from him, and you're stunned. His voice is soft, much softer then he wanted it to be, but he allows his tone to stay the same. Trust. Trusting you without realizing. 

“For what exactly?”

“For what you did at Moonrise. You could’ve forced me to go through with that..but you didn’t,” Astarion feels his eyes soften, stomach turning, “And I’m grateful.”

He gets anxious in front of your eyes when you don’t say anything. But his body becomes lighter when your arms wrap around him. He is certain it’s not a hug for your own comfort, but for his. And going against every instinct in his body that tells him to push you away, he hugs you back, wrapping his arms around you.. 

“I want you to know I will never put you in a position where you don’t have free will. You control yourself, Astarion, I will never jeopardize your freedom for my own benefit. You're a member of my party..you're my friend. I could never do that to you.” 

Friend? He couldn’t remember the last time he had someone to call a friend. If ever. But the words have him squeezing you closer to his body, face slipping into the crevice of your neck. 

“I was worried you might’ve been mad at me for refusing her, you were ignoring me. I wasn’t sure what I had done..” His words pull at your heart, you hadn’t meant to make him feel that way..

“Astarion..” 

“Hm?” He doesn’t move, he’s not sure if he wants to. Astarion is sure that he could hold you like this for as long as you would let him. 

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.. I was actually deciding how I should apologize..” 

“Apologize for what, dear?” He scoffs in your ear, he’s so close and the pet name flows with ease from his lips. If it were any other man you wouldn’t have noticed.

“For how I handled her today. I should’ve stayed calm. I just..I got so angry and she kept pushing and I was scared that she would do something to you..” 

The feeling is back in his chest, heavy and heating his face. His arms tighten and it silences your rambling, “Don’t apologize for being angry. You did nothing wrong… I actually quite appreciate your anger on my behalf. You didn’t have to but I appreciate that you denied her. I was certain you were going to kill her.” A chuckle stumbles from his lips, breath heavy on your ear. 

“I might’ve if you didn’t step in.” He pulls away from you, hands still resting on your arms, and disappointment fills your body. 

Astarion feels it again when your eyes look up into his with comfort painted across your face, a jab at his heart, and he is certain. He’s smitten and he can’t help the way his eyes fill with adoration. 

You wear a small smile on your face, filling him with comfort, but a sadness lingers in his mind. The fact is , you don’t feel the same and it causes his heart to become heavier. His hands fall from your arms, waving you off with a gentle goodnight before entering his tent. You stay standing in confusion, it sends your thoughts spiraling as you leave towards your own tent. 

Too generous. Too kind.

The next few days he is dazed, distracted and it shows. He misses his shots, when you speak to him his mind is elsewhere and the words you deliver slip through his ears. Everyone is clearly annoyed. 

But he cannot see it. He truly can’t see or hear anything, his thoughts are screaming at him about you. He cares for someone other than himself. He is depending on someone who is not himself.  He’s worried for your well-being, and he knows you’d be better without him by your side. He’s a burden with his mission to defeat Cazador, and he thinks about leaving.

And he thinks about you again. Every time he draws his bow, the thought of losing you fills his head and his fingers slip, arrow flying with unfocused aim. You trip and his previously unattentive eyes fly to your body, catching your arm in his tight grip to keep you from falling. The only words he speaks are soft, “I’ve got you.” He doesn't wait for your acknowledgement before he slips back into his clouded mind. 

He is unaware of his surroundings. He isn’t paying attention. Even when you’re fighting and he is tasked with shooting, he isn’t fully there. 

But when a cry leaves your mouth, hand clutching your side where you’ve been stabbed, he suddenly sees all. He’s breathing heavily as he rushes to your side to hold his hand on your wound, putting pressure on it. “I’ve got you..I've got you. please..you're gonna be okay..”

His eyes don’t leave yours as Karlach lifts you. He holds your fingers in his own as she carries you to camp for the night. He doesn't leave your side , even after everyone has gone to sleep, and your eyes have closed he remains. 

“Astarion?” 

Eyes wide, he looks up tiredly from where his eyes were staring at your wound. “Oh..gods. I’m so sorry..” His forehead falls onto your thigh in a huff.

“W..what?” You let your hand fall onto his head, concerned and not fully awake yet. 

“I’m so sorry..I..I let you get hurt. I was distracted and you got hurt because of me, my love.” 

“Astarion, what are you talking about? What..” You wince as you try to sit up, Astarion lifting his head from your lap instantly when he hears the hiss leave your mouth. 

He slips his fingers into your hand, squeezing tightly. “I..I couldn’t stop thinking..and I wasn’t paying attention. If I was..you never would’ve been hurt.” 

His words would almost make you laugh if they weren’t so somber, “Astarion please..this is not your fault.” 

“I knew this would happen..”

“What?” 

“I’m only putting you in danger, being in this group, I’ll only be a burden on you. This will keep happening..” 

Your heart sinks, “Astarion..”

“No..”, His eyes won't meet yours, “I can’t stay any longer. I need to find Cazador.” You open your mouth to speak but he already knows what you're about to say, “Without you.” 

“No..no way!”

“Please..just..” His fingers squeeze around yours again, “I can’t keep hurting the person I love. I can’t do it..not to the only person who's ever allowed me to feel safe.” 

“Astarion..” You place your other hand over his, sitting up straighter to put your face in his, “If you think for a minute that you can get away with telling me you love me, just to run away and leave me, you’re mistaken.” Your foreheads meet, head falling to touch his while lifting your head to cup his cheek in your palm, thumb rubbing over a dried patch of blood on his face. 

He stayed by your side when he could’ve gone to rest and clean himself off, and it makes your heart swell in your chest. You figured you would be alone when you woke up but here Astarion sits in front of you with dried blood covering his face and making his strands of his hair hard under your fingers, eyes tired but still open. 

“Besides I told you, you’d never have to fight him alone..ever again.” 

“I can’t do this to you.” His eyes close, lips pursing. 

“You're not doing anything to me, we're in this together. I promise. ”

“I..”

“Astarion. I said we're in this together. You can leave but you better believe I will follow you until the end to keep you safe. Just like you keep me safe..”

Too Generous. Too Kind.

He opens his eyes to look into yours. They’re so soft, searching your eyes for genuinity. He is unsure whether you mean everything you're saying. But Astarion is sure then as he searches, you’ve never been more truthful in your life. You mean everything. His barricade is broken and he slowly moves in to plant his lips softly to yours, hands shaking against your skin. 

It's soft and unsure. Just like he is. And he doesn’t stay there long in fear of making you uncomfortable, or god forbid he irritates your injury. You can’t help but smile at the genuine smile that peeks out at his lips. 

“So..the person you love?”

“Careful..I can still take it back.” 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hello! I hope you've had a nice day:)

🤭I really love your works! Could you write an Astarion fic where the (GN) reader is equally as flirty as he is? For example, reader and Astarion being the only ones awake in the night and all in all- just flirty talk.

(Not implying anything but.. Hypothetically. Hypothetically speaking, you could sprinkle in some spicy stuff too)

I'm sorry if that's not your thing! Feel free to ignore this 🧡

Leave You Speechless

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : while you keep watch over camp, a boring job, astarion keeps you company by the fire

warnings : tiniest bit sexual towards the end but nothing NSFW, PG 13 at best.

a/n : i kinda love this, loved the idea, hope i did it justice.

Sparks flew from the wood of the fire, landing in front of your leather adorned feet. You hadn’t bothered to take off your equipment when you returned to camp, and the party seemed to take this as a sign that you wanted to be on watch for the night. You didn’t, of course, but who are you to deny your duty. Everyone else did it, your turn was inevitable. You just wished it wasn’t so boring. 

You picked at the fabric of your bedroll, fire crackling in the silence of the night. Maybe Halsin was awake? Or Astarion? Perhaps Gale was awake and he could keep your company with his magic.

“Well..don’t you look happy..” Your eyes flicker up to meet a pale face, red eyes creased in amusement, a small smirk playing at his lips. Of course he would be awake, only to annoy you. He takes no time to sit beside you, attentive to your features, his gaze never leaving your eyes.

 “Careful darling, if you keep your eyebrows creased so angrily, you’ll get wrinkles.” His comment only makes you scrunch your face up more, a slender finger poking at the wrinkle between your eyebrows. 

Without much thought you take your own finger and poke it in between his eyebrows, “You should take your own advice Astarion, clearly you’ve been angry a lot over your lifetime, aged quite poorly.” He scoffs, and for a moment he doesn’t say anything, speechless at your insult. 

“Please..I have no wrinkles, I cannot age , don’t be stupid.” He pulls his finger away from you, now feeling at his own face, clearly you’ve struck an insecurity. 

You feel your eyes roll at his antics, “ Cut it out with the dramatics, Astarion. I only tease. You should know how beautiful you are, I would expect as much from your vanity.” You throw a small piece of wood on the fire, looking away from him.

“Of course I know.. I just love the way it sounds coming from your lips,” You shoot him a look. You weren’t unfamiliar with his flirting, in fact it wasn’t the first night that he had managed to wriggle his way by your side. Though this night would surely be the same, he would flirt with you till the son came up and you would pretend not to enjoy his company. God forbid he ever found out how much you truly enjoyed being around him, let alone that your feelings for him were more than platonic. 

“Then perhaps I should compliment you more often then?” Astarion seems to be pulled towards you, shuffling closer to your side, intrigued by your willingness to comply with his flirtatiousness. “Oh..but then..I would never wanna inflate that unfortunate ego of yours..my love.” A soft poke on his nose, and his eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. 

He huffs, “You tease too much. You’ll admit you’re in love with me soon enough.” 

“In love with you,” a scoff falls from your lips, and you're sure your annoyance sounds more superficial than you would’ve wished, “now you’ve started fabricating my feelings in your head? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the one in love with me, not the other way around.”

“A shame your intelligence is rather lacking, or else you’d know better. You see through me transparently, darling.” He’s so close to you, a tease with intent to deceive and lower your guard, and you almost fall for it. 

You push him away with your elbow, only hard enough to get his face away from you, but his body stays close. “What is it that you're trying to gain here, Astarion?” The tone you carry your words with seems to jab into his skin, the way he recoils away from you makes you almost regret it.

“Ughh..a moment ago you were referring to me as ‘my love’ and now you speak my name in such a sullen tone,” his slender fingers move to grasp at your own, you don’t pull away though you wish you would, “why must you deny me?” 

He brings your hand up to his lip delicately, not wanting to startle you, as if you were a scared animal and you might run away at any moment. Though, you realized, that depiction might not be entirely untrue. You allowed it, breath hitching as his soft lips made contact with your knuckle, curving upwards in the gentlest of smiles. 

“There..much better,” another gentle kiss, to each and everyone of your knuckle, “I like you much better when you're not arguing with your infatuation.” 

“I like you much better when your mouth is occupied.”

“Perhaps we can find a way to occupy it then?” He’s staring up at you, pleading through his lashes, with your hand still limply held in his hand. He won’t let go, not even if you denied him now, he wouldn’t let go. His fingers are entangling themselves in yours, squeezing down. 

“You’re absurd.” 

“And you’re breathtaking...” It silences your voice completely, and his grip on your hand seems to tighten. 

The world around you seems to take a pause along with you, the wind ceases to blow, holding its breath alongside you. There is no wildlife trilling or chirping anymore, silencing themselves to offer Astarion and you a full stage to yourselves. Even the snores, soft and aggressive from either side of the camp, go silent. They’re being blocked out, your head filled with Astarions image, your ears filled with the sound of his breathing. And your eyes, occupied by the way his tongue pokes out to swipe against his bottom lip, the way his own eyes dart along your face to analyze your features, the way his hand twitches in your own when your lips puff out. 

In a moment of distracted, thoughtless boldness, too bold for your own good, fiendish desperation controlling your actions in full, your free hand moves to grasp onto the side of face to pull him in closer. He moves, under your control fully, pupils blown out in arousal. But then you hesitate, and his face becomes still in front of yours, lips hovering against each other. You let out a huff at your actions, disappointed in the way you must constantly fight against your desires, the air caught in your throat is released in a heavy sigh against his lips. 

“It’s not like you to be so undecided..” His breath is feverish and heavy, tickling against your skin, his lips brushing against your own with every syllable. He is pleading with his eyes, fingers twitching against your own once more, too excited to control his own movements. 

“Not like you to be so,” Before you can utter a rebuttal your words are cut short, Astarions lips finally connect to your own. Clearly he has grown impatient, and it shows in the way his fangs nip at your lips, begging for entrance. You allow it, his tongue passes your lips to wrestle with yours, and a whimper vibrates through him leaving your head spinning. If it wasn’t for his grip on you, you would’ve fallen over. 

He places one hand behind your body, using his own to push you down against your bedroll, without releasing your lips once. With hesitation he separates from you, breath heavy once more. Distracted, he doesn’t look at you, his fingers tracing along your waist until he meets the waistline of your leather pants.

“For once, darling, I would love to leave you speechless and not the other way around..allow me, won't you?” .” He smirks, looking up at you now with a mischievous glint in his eyes, fingers playing with the zipper of your pants. 

“Gods you’re annoying..” You shoot him a glare, though you doubt it’s very menacing judging by the way your breath hitches and your cheeks are absolutely flushed, he tugs at the waistband pulling your leather pants down to your mid thigh. 

But then you regain your edge, “Say please, and then maybe, I’ll allow it.” You place your hand back on his cheek, holding his face up, and the way he leans his cheek deeper into your hand almost makes you crumble again. 

“Please, darling, pretty please..let me touch you.”

“That’s very good, my love.” You try to hide the way your breath leaves your lips in a shaky wave as you nod for him to proceed. He wastes no time as your pants are suddenly pulled down and off, Astarion climbing back up your legs. 

His lips tug into a smile, lowering his head between your thighs, and you let out a whine as his teeth connect with the skin of your inner thigh. When he looks up to you, through the strands of his curls that have fallen in front of his face, a thin line of blood coats his lip. The way his tongue licks it away, sends a shiver through you.

And the look he gives you, worship heavy in his eyes, makes you aware of just how long this night is going to be for you. 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

can I request some cute fluff with Astarion - I think something cute would be tav’s never worn a dress and they put one on and Astarion is just mindblow by how good they look? 🥺

maybe he can do some chivalrous acts as well~

She Looks Breathtaking

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has never seen you in a dress, you haven’t been in one since you were taken from baldur's gate. you both find it hard to hide your excitement.

warnings : none :)

authors note: I hope you like this anon! (first, i finally played baldur's gate. second, i'm going to try and pump out the requests that I haven't gotten to.)

“Oh! Look how pretty this is!” 

You turn your head to look towards Karlach’s booming voice, much too loud for the small space you were in. She held up a dress, something you hadn’t thought about wearing in months. You hadn’t had any important events to attend.

Walking over to her side, you take the fabric between your fingers. “It’s beautiful..”

“You should get it. I think you’d look great, and I bet Astarion would like it too.” She nudged at your side, teasing. Your face flushed, and you ran your fingers along the hem of the dress, avoiding Karlachs gaze. She likes to poke fun at the obvious crush you had developed on Astarion, and everytime she did you regretted telling her more and more. 

Eventually, you find a small paper attached to the fabric showing the price of the dress, eyes widening at the disgustingly low price. 

“When would I even get a chance to wear it? It would go to waste, just weigh my bag down.” Karlach huffs, taking the price tag and reading it for herself.

“Are you kidding me? Even if you don’t wear it, you’d be a fool to ignore this price. Maybe you will attend some noble party when we get to Baldur's Gate!” She was way too excited but her energy almost made you agree with her, the dress was so cheap even if it went unworn for a long time. And you hadn’t worn one in..you couldn’t even remember.

You thought about it for a moment before moving for your coin pouch, pouring the amount into your hand and handing the coins to the trader. They slip out of your hand much faster than you'd care to admit, hiding your excitement from Karlach proving to be a challenge. “Don’t say a word to anyone, Karlach, I mean it.”

“Fine. But I better get to see you in it, at least try it on for me when we get back to camp!” You shake your head, amused by Karlachs childish antics, but you yourself can’t help but feel a little bit excited by the idea of dressing up. 

When you returned to camp that night you had forgotten about the dress in your bag, slipping your mind amidst the constant thought of being attacked or having to talk your way out of a hostile situation. 

So when Karlach came bouncing over to your side, your tent tucked away in a corner secluded from most of your party to keep your privacy, you could only give her a confused look. She seemed so excited and you had no idea why, and she was beginning to return the confusion.

“You gonna put on the dress or just make me stand here?” Oh! You let your bag fall to the ground, crouching down to rummage through its contents, searching for the dress. 

When you found it you laid it over your bag, standing back up to remove the leather from your body. You could hear Karlachs giggles as you shimmied out of your much too tight leather pants, only to have to pull the dress over your body right after.

Your hair was up, but you untied it and allowed your hair to fall over your shoulders. When you turned back to her, she stared at you with awe. “Woah..”

“What?” 

“You look..nice.” You giggled, which made her laugh along with you, both of you unaware of the approaching footsteps. His eyes trace along your figure, and he allows himself a moment of greediness to take in the full effect you have. You seem so happy, a smile appearing on his cheeks as he watches you smile gleefully and so..so..carefree. You're finally allowing yourself to have fun, and not worrying about protecting everyone else around you. And Gods.. you’re breathtaking. 

He would never admit to a living soul, or a non-living one for that matter, but he had been infatuated with you since the moment you asked him to join your party. You made him weak, and with his newfound freedom he wasn’t sure what the correct way to deal with it was. Obviously he could use his charm to lure you into his bedroll, but he wanted more, he wanted to be the reason you felt giddy enough to show your teeth with a smile. He wanted to be the reason you laughed, and fooled around, the reason you felt safe enough to have fun. 

He takes a deep breath in, to regain his confidence and charm, and he proceeds towards the two of you.  

Until his voice filled your ears and caused your eyes to shoot in his direction, “Well well..don’t you look nice.” 

“Astarion!” He approached the two of you slowly, staring at you and paying no mind to Karlach’s presence. 

“I’m gonna leave you two alone..” Karlach let out an awkward chuckle, making eye contact with you with wiggly eyebrows before sneaking away.

You look back towards Astarion, who is unable to make eye contact with you as his eyes roam along your body, preoccupied. You're certain he doesn't even realise Karlach has left from beside the two of you.

“Where did you get this pretty thing?” He looks back up to meet your eyes, smirk big enough to show his fangs which sends a nervous shiver through your body. A tingle in your neck reminds you of the favour you allowed him. Your arms cross against your chest, suddenly more nervous in his presence than ever before. 

“Just something I picked up from a merchant..” 

“In all the time I’ve traveled by your side , I’ve never seen you look so.. elegant.” 

“Wow thanks..” You roll your eyes with a snort, crossing your arms tighter across your chest.

“Now c’mon darling..you know I mean you no disrespect. Only pointing out the obvious. May I?” At first you're unsure what he’s even asking permission for, but when you see his hands reaching out to touch you, you give him a nod. 

He doesn’t hesitate, hands finding your hips. “See…usually you’re wearing that menacing leather, always so serious.” Your face scrunches up at his words, you’ve never thought your armour to be very menacing nor did you believe you were ‘always serious’. Only when the situation called for it. 

The heat of his skin can be felt even through the fabric. His thin fingers squeeze into the plush of your hips, then run along your waist, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “But right now, in this dress, with your hair undone,” He brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hairs, “You look so free. You’re beautiful darling..so beautiful.” 

You feel your face relax, and it only softens more when Astarions eyes meet yours once more and his pupils are blown . The softest smile blossoms on his face, which turns out to be contagious cause not soon after a cheek burning smile is on your face. Face hot as you look into his eyes, his hands still on your waist, thumbs massaging your skin through your dress. 

“I should take it off, I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

“Could you humor me?”

“Humor you? How so, Astarion?” 

“Keep it on, just for an hour. It’s been a long time since I spent an evening with a woman as beautiful as you..” 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

HI ur writing is so good, are ur requests open? 😳😳🥹

absolutely my requests are open :))

if you have a request for any character (from any fandom) definitely send it my way, that being said i don’t do every request that i receive but I do try to do them if i know the character well enough.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

I have a request for Astarion ! What if reader is usually the one being seduced by Astarion (because that's how he is) but reader one day does the very chivalrous hand kissing to Astarion after maybe protecting him from an enemy?

Rizz if you will.

It's Called Chivalry, Darling

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion makes a point to be chivalrous so you return the favour to distract him from being worried.

warnings :talk about weapons and fighting, reader gets hurt.

a/n: thanks sm for your request :). i tried my hardest to execute this idea, i hope you like it anon :0 (i have not played baldurs gate)

“I think we could stock up there. ” You point to a row of buildings, signs practically unreadable, grabbing the attention of the others in your group. They all hum in agreement before heading off in their own directions. The only store you assume you’ll be needing is a general store, so you head in that direction. 

You reach for the handle but someone else's hand beats you to it, pulling it open for you. Turning to look, you make eye contact with the ever handsome Astarion, smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Why’re you opening the door for me? What do you want?” You point an accusatory finger in his face, causing him to chuckle. His laugh is so soft it almost makes you drop your finger. 

“It’s called chivalry, my dear. You aren’t familiar?” He follows behind you as you enter the store, rolling your eyes at him. The store is mostly empty, besides a few men looking through the wares available. But even with all the open space for him to walk, Astarion seems to tail you as if the store is crowded. 

“Ooh get some more of that stuff, remember you used it on me? It made that cut on my arm feel like nothing.” He points from behind you at a healing balm in a small, glass jar. You stop in your tracks to grab it, causing Astarion to push into your back, and you look back at him with a confused stare. 

“Why’d you stop? ” His brows are furrowed, face close to yours.

“Why are you walking so close to me?”

“I just can’t stand to be far from you, my love,” He places his hand on his chest dramatically, voice incredibly theatrical as if he wasn’t already dramatic enough. You're sure that people in the store are shooting glances your way but, unusually, you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when Astarion is looking down at you with playful eyes and a giddy smile on his face. He looks so sweet like this, so free of worry and attitude, his guard is down. But you can't let him realize your thoughts, so before he could even notice your staring you force your face to remain as stoic as before.

You once again roll your eyes then continue your search for anything the group may need. Once you finish you head towards the door, making a point to open the door for yourself which causes Astarion to grunt in disapproval. 

The group finds each other once more and you head out of town, fully prepared for what might be ahead. At least that's what you think, maybe a stupid thought considering you're never truly safe on this perilous journey.

As you travel along the trail, your group seems to split off into its own smaller groups. Whispering and laughing with eachother, making far too much noise in your opinion. And Astarion, slowly trickling from the front all the way to the back where you're walking, finds his place beside you. 

“Why do you always walk so far towards the back? That’s a dangerous position for someone as small as you, no one to keep you safe from behind.” He chuckles to himself as he notices your brows furrow. 

“There’s nobody to annoy me either.” His hand flys to his chest, pretending to be hurt once more, his pace faltering ever so slightly then catching up with you again. 

“Ouch. How you wound me so with your cold words darling.” 

“Astarion, if you wish to accompany me in the back I’d appreciate if..” Your sentence is cut off with a yelp of surprise as you trip over a dip in the road, stumbling forwards. But you don’t fall very far, Astarion’s hand gripping onto your wrist and pulling you towards him. Your chest hits his, and you take a moment to regain your bearings before taking a step away from him.

He raises your hand, still in his grip, up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles, “You must be more careful, darling. Don’t want you getting hurt.” 

You know your face is pink, you can feel it, and the smirk on his face solidifies your worry, but you remain composed and give him a simple nod as you pull your hand away. 

“Shall I hold your hand to ensure you don’t trip again?”

“In your dreams, fangs.” He smiles, it's always so soft during these moments, and the sight alone almost causes you to take back your words and give in to his offer, but you stand your ground and keep your hands close to your hips. Astarion lets out a small laugh at this.

You continue to walk in peaceful silence, Astarion making small quips so the air is never truly silent around you. You've come to realize that Astarion can't stand silence whenever he's around you, and he makes a point to keep the noise level up. But when his tone shifts, and he becomes quieter, you take a peak around. You notice that the group is much closer than before but you don’t mind. Safety in numbers and what not. 

But something feels off. It’s eerily quiet. Not even the whistle of a bird and you swear the wind has stopped entirely. And you think the rest of your group notices as well, perhaps the reason that they had moved closer was so they wouldn’t be caught off guard. Their hands stay on their weapons ready to take them out. 

And then it happens. A group of goblins jump from the surrounding forest and circle around your party. Usually something as small a threat as a goblin would be no problem but in such large numbers they might prove to be a problem. When they initiate a fight, thrusting their blades towards you, you draw your blade. 

Slowly, you pick off goblins, one by one. They’re stronger than you expected and their weapons are much nicer than the ones you had encountered in the past. But you keep your guard up and they’re unable to land a blow on you. It’s when the amount of goblins in front of you is reduced that your guard is let down even the slightest. And your focus shifts. Not the smartest move.

You look around you, realizing that Astarion is no longer by your side.

In your state of distraction, a goblin is able to strike you, leaving a relatively large cut on your arms and cutting the arm of your shirt into a tattered piece. The pain causes you to refocus for a moment, just enough to kill the goblin before you look back towards Astarion.

When your eyes reach his position, your heart drops to your stomach. He is completely surrounded and you're certain that he is unaware just how shitty his situation is. So without a second thought, you leave the goblins in front of you behind, and rush over to him. 

Swinging your blade with as much force as you can muster, you kill the goblins behind him and grab his wrist to pull him out of his unfortunate position. You kill another, after ensuring he is no longer in the way. The two of you pick the goblins off together, standing back to back. And when the fight is over you finally allow yourself a moment to breathe. 

But it doesn’t last long. 

Astarion pushes at your shoulder, causing you to stumble forward, you hardly catch yourself but you do. When you’ve found your footing you straighten up, turning to him with furrowed brows, “What was that for?” 

“Why would you do that?” His tone is so aggressive it catches you off guard, “You could’ve gotten hurt! How could you be so irresponsible? Look at your arm, Gods!"

He holds your arm in his hands, hesitating for a moment before ripping off a piece of his own shirt. Gently, he pushes the arm of your shirt up to uncover your wound and begins to wrap the piece of cloth around the wound with shaky fingers, muttering curse words under his breath.

“You could’ve been killed Astarion! I would’ve gladly gotten hurt in order to prevent that.” You try to keep your cool. The pain is hardly noticeable with the amount of adrenaline pumping through your body. And you honestly find yourself more worried about him being angry with you Obviously, he’s yelling in your face, but it might just be shock getting to him. 

“Why would you do that for me? That is absolutely ridiculous.” He huffs, throwing his hands in the air, then allows them to fall back down to his sides. And an idea suddenly enters you brain. 

Slowly, with caution to not annoy him further, you reach for his still shaky hand. He stares at you, brows furrowed, but he doesn’t pull away. Gently, you place your lips against his bloodied knuckles, making an effort not to hurt his already irritated skin.

“It’s called chivalry, Astarion. You aren’t familiar?” You notice the smallest change in his eyes as they soften, even a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He isn’t mad, just worried. And you know that all the annoyance has fled his body at your attempt to make fun of him and his flirtatious remarks. Honestly, he's a little flattered you remember what he said, and flustered from you playing his own game against him.

You take a step closer, placing a hand on the side of his face to pull him in closer, to plant a soft kiss to his cheekbone. His curls touch your fingertips, and you take the opportunity to play with his soft hair for a moment. When you pull away, a pink tint lingers on his skin, allowing color to flow on his beautiful face. “You know I don’t want you getting hurt.”

This time he lets out a soft laugh, “That’s enough, darling. I understand what you’re doing, you can stop mocking me.” He turns away from you, but you rush to his side, wrapping your hands around his arms. You lean into him, resting your head near his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Shall I hold onto you so you don’t trip, my dear?” You mock his usual flirty tone, and he pushes your head away gently in an attempt to hide the color rushing to his face, ruffling your hair up.

“What, I'm not allowed to flirt with you but you can do it to me?”

"That's exactly right, my dear."

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

PLS YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE FICS ABOUT ASTARION the one you did was so good and cute ☹️☹️ i love it

Let Me Clean Your Wounds

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : a long week of hard work leaves your party tired and injured. you offer to clean astarions and to your surprise, he accepts.

warnings : talk about blood.

a/n : thank you anon :0 i STILL have not played baldurs gate (so i apologize again for my lack of knowledge).

It had been an incredibly long week. 

It started by someone in the party pointing out that you had no more money left. So you had to spend your days doing odd jobs for people in the nearby town. 

However, a few of them had failed to mention the fact that their job requests could end up harming you in more ways than one. An easy job, like gathering fruit for an old lady who can’t venture out that far anymore, suddenly turned into fighting a hag in the woods for trespassing on her property. 

The compensation received was hardly enough for the injuries you and your party would gather on your bodies throughout the day. 

As powerful as your group was, being caught off guard by some giant creature in the woods left you at a disadvantage. And when calmly mentioned to the people of the village, suggesting that their pay be higher for sending you to do such strenuous tasks so they wouldn’t be attacked themselves, they threw their arms up to you. 

Calling you greedy and saying you were trying to steal their gold. Of course that didn’t sit well with the nearby guards, and while jumping to conclusions without any investigation, you were thrown in a cell. Not all your party, just you, as the leader. 

You weren’t released until a member of your party persuaded them, using the gold you had just earned from the townspeople’s ridiculous jobs. 

So you packed up your camp, and ventured out to find another village. One where you hadn’t been put behind bars for scheming and trying to steal gold from the elderly. 

When you found a nice spot, and a town that looked to have more than enough gold to go around, you set up camp in the nearby woods. The townspeople were less than friendly, but at least they were honest about their jobs. 

They made it abundantly clear that they would not be handing out charity and that you had to work for the gold you earned. That turned out to be a challenge after a few jobs had been completed , and it had clicked that your party has been consistently acquiring injuries over the last few days. 

Your party was down in power. You were lacking in energy, and it was showing in the way your attacks would fly but often miss or hit with not much force behind them. 

So after completing one last job, and buying some fresh meat from the town, you decided to rest. Finally caving into the exhaustion, you felt almost weak when Lae’zel complained about stopping. But nobody else seemed to have any complaints. 

Lae’zel was hasty to eat, along with almost everybody else in the party. They got a fire started and the warmth hugged your body, but while scanning over everyone’s face you realized just how rough your condition had become . 

Everyone seemed to be holding up all right, you weren’t too worried, but as you looked in closer you noticed Astarion was seated farther away from the fire picking at his skin. 

Curious, you left the warmth of the fire and wandered over to him. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

“No, well, not much. But I don’t think you’d listen if I said I did.” You shook your head at him before taking a seat beside him. 

His face was pretty bruised up, cuts on his cheek and lip. And his arms were covered with scratches that it was continuing to pick at. 

You took another glance before standing up and walking back over to your own tent to grab some bandages, your flask of water, and a rag of some sort to wipe his wounds. When you came back he stared at you with amusement in his eyes. 

“What exactly are you planning to do with all that, darling?” 

“You're covered in cuts, have to clean them up so they don’t scar your pretty face. Let me clean your wounds?” You tried not to let the pet name have any effect over you, but you were sure your thoughts were showing through your cheeks. His hand moved to touch his cheek, as if he didn’t believe that he truly did have any injuries, wincing as his finger brushed against a larger cut. 

“You’re seriously worried about me when you’re in the same condition? For the love of the gods , you were thrown in a cell this week and you're truly worried about some cuts on my cheeks?”

“May I?” You held the rag up in your hands, pouring some water over it. He nodded, hesitantly of course, but he allowed it anyway. 

Gently, you placed the dampened rag over his cuts, wiping away at the dried blood and layer of dirt covering his pale skin. His brows furrowed, the sight causing you to let out a giggle. Usually, Astarion was very closed off, so being this close to him and him allowing you to help him was sort of new to you. 

“Why are you laughing? I’m in pain and your ..giggling?” He tried to be stern and serious, his usual facade, but a small smile was playing at the corner of his lip.  

“I’m sorry,” You let out another giggle as you swiped away at his skin and his eyebrows furrowed once more, “It’s just cute, I’ve never seen your face scrunch up like that.”

He seemed to pause, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. You were being serious. You thought he was cute, when he was covered in blood and dirt. Him showing a little weakness , you thought it was cute? 

“What? I know my face is probably dirty.” You rubbed at your cheek with your free hand, conscious of your appearance as his gaze lingered on your face. He didn’t care though, he was too busy thinking about your words. 

“Cute is an absurd word to use when describing someone like me. I’m too handsome to be described in such ..simple terms.” His smirk returned to his face, your mouth now agape unsure of whether he was serious or not. 

“C’mon now Astarion, I never said you weren’t handsome. I just said you were cute with your face all scrunched up like that.” The rag sat in your lap, his face was clean, his cuts just needed a little cover up. 

“So you do think I’m handsome?” He leaned in closer , his voice captivating. 

“Well I never said that either.” You placed your hand on his chest to distance yourself , ripping off a piece of the bandaging in your hands and manipulating it into place on his cheek. 

He wore a subtle pout on his lips but when you moved in close and kissed his cheek, in a moment of boldness,  it soon fell away. 

Astarion’s hands brushed against your own, taking the damp rag and pouring more water onto the other unused end. 

“My turn, darling.” The rag, making contact with your skin, made goosebumps appear on your skin. It was colder than you expected, and you knew there had to be small cuts littering your face by the way it stung. Your face must have tensed because he took his turn to laugh at you. 

“You know, you are very beautiful, even with your face all scrunched up.” He was mocking you. obviously, but his voice mixed with his compliments made your cheeks flush. 

A final swipe along your cheek and he pulls the rag away, “There. All clean, my dear.” 

His hand reached out to cup your cheek, but before the act became too intimate, he changed his course and ran his hand along the side of your hair to flatten it down. 

“You really are quite pretty .” He knew his words had such a serious effect on you, as you never tried to hide the fact that your feelings for him were far from platonic interest. It was so weird seeing him be so friendly, and flirty in a way that wasn’t meant to manipulate.

“Would you stop? It’s not nice to tease y'know.” 

“And who told you I was teasing, my dear? Was it Lae’zel cause I’ve always thought she might have a thing for me.” He laughed at the end of his sentence, joking. “I would never tease a woman as pretty as you, that would be very cruel of me.” 

“Do you want to join me by the fire?” His gaze shifted to look at the group seated around the fire, he seemed to ponder before looking back at you with furrowed brows. 

“I can smell their horrible odor from here.” You huffed, pushing his shoulder. He looked once more, and seemed to ponder some more but his face was hard enough to read when he wasn’t looking away from you. 

Astarion groaned, ringing out the wet rag still sitting in his hands. “That is not an answer, Astarion. I’m cold, and the fire looks so nice.”

“Fine, if we must, we can go,” You smiled down at him as you stood but it was replaced with a look of shock when he pulled you to sit back down, “On one simple condition.” 

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want from me?” 

He stayed silent for a second, but as he noticed you becoming increasingly impatient he began to speak.

“A kiss. Not a petty one, and not on my cheek. I mean a real one.” You were flush in the face once more. He seemed totally serious, a permanent smirk painted on his face, but his eyes stared into your own without any sign of humor. You honestly thought he might be mocking you. 

“Okay. I can do that. Easy, but only if you’re nice and say please.” 

“Now who’s teasing.” You only stared at him, sternly. If he wanted to act like a child, and demand rewards in order to complete simple tasks, then you could tease him like one. “Fine. Please…pretty please.”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t think you had ever heard him say please to anyone, let alone add in a “pretty”.

 He didn’t move, he was entirely dead set on this. His face was close enough to yours that you didn’t have to shuffle very far. As gently as you could, in case he decided that he was joking and pulled away, you placed your hands on his face.

One hand cupping his cheek, fingertips rubbing at the hairs falling delicately in front of his ears, the other near the bottom of his cheek and holding onto his jaw. Slowly, you pulled him in until your lips met his. You still weren’t entirely convinced that he was serious, but when his fingers entangled in your hair and pulled you in deeper, you had a hunch that he might not be joking. 

He didn’t let you pull away until he was entirely satisfied. Your breath was heavy, and your skin was hotter than before in multiple ways. 

“I haven’t had a meaningful one in a long time, darling. Thank you.”

“Should we go sit by the fire?” You stood up, legs wavering before stiffening, and you offered him out your hand. He took it in his large one, following you to the fire, sitting beside you. There was a heavy silence, causing you to look around and see everybody's eyes already on you. 

“What?”

“If you guys are gonna keep sucking each other's faces, could you please do it in a tent? You made me lose my appetite.”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Much Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has found a soft spot for a girl who is much too kind for her own good, too trusting, in such a gruesome world.

warnings : astarion bites.

a/n : i haven't played baldurs gate (so i apologize for my lack of knowledge) but astarion is consuming my brain.

“Do you honestly feel safe sleeping with him sitting this close by?”

“He’s done nothing but help us this whole time, why would I not?”

“Because he’s a vampire?” Shadowhearts face is blank, speaking as though her words shouldn’t need to be spoken, an obvious thought. She stares into you, awaiting a proper answerings, and she almost scoffs when she doesn’t get what she wants. In return you roll your eyes, continue to ready yourself to sleep. 

When you feel that you're ready to go to bed, Shadowhearts voice is unheard. She is already situated inside of her bedroll, which she had set up farther away from the fire than you liked, in a way of protecting herself from a seemingly harmless Astarion. In all fairness, you have probably been too trusting in the man. But how could you not?

He had been such a tease since the moment you met him. Because he seemed to annoy you, he never left your side. But you quickly grew fond of the pale man, and it was suddenly you who couldn’t leave his side. Astarion had no problem with this, and a weird fondness began brewing in his chest whenever he was around you. He had a burdening soft spot for you unlike anyone else. He couldn’t even bring himself to feed around you in case he scared you off, feeling an unprecedented amount of fear of losing you. The relationship you shared was teetering on a very thin line of romance and teasing gone too far. 

The two of you were an unlikely pair. Astarion was manipulative, and you knew that from watching him work, but he never used it on you (as far as you knew). He viewed you as too sweet for your own good, taking it upon himself to keep you from danger. In all honesty, you probably didn’t need him for that. Sure he helped when you were obviously being lied to and couldn’t tell but you could hold your own in battle just fine. From your point of view he was nothing but trustworthy and helpful. Shadowheart, your ever protective friend, had a hard time seeing the same thing. 

But when you made a fuss about having to sleep in your armour, unlike Shadowheart who had no problem with the matter, he had offered up a spare shirt. You weren’t sure where it had been beforehand but it was comfy, with undone strings hanging from the neckline, and it was large enough to go down to your mid thigh which was perfect. And his scent covering it was an added bonus. You had never thought much about it, but you never wore your heavy pants to sleep, being too hot inside your stuffy bed roll. 

You were usually asleep before everyone else, and the first to wake in the morning, so this never proved to be a problem. And, if you had to think about it, you were usually in a tent by yourself. But with only Shadowheart and Astarion around you didn’t see a problem. 

But when you crawled into your bedroll, at a middle distance between Astarion propped up against a log by the fire and Shadowheart sleeping farther from him, you began to see the problem. Shadowhearts words from before were dug into your brain, what if Astarion was dangerous and he did end up hurting you in your sleep just like she had said. You had never felt any fear towards the man, but her words had planted an unfamiliar distrust in your head.

You were dangerously aware of every noise around you. Unable to sleep, because of your focus on everything around you. The soft snores from Shadowhearts bedroll, and the quiet hum from a bored  Astarion playing with the fire. As long as he was by the fire, seated much too close for comfort now, you thought you’d be able to hear him coming. You think everything is fine, but being so edge you catch the smallest sounds, and you shoot up at the sound of a twig snapping. 

“My, my. Such a light sleeper my dear.” You turn towards Astarion, breath heavy, and a guilty feeling festering in your lower stomach. He’s almost exactly where he was when you first laid down. There’s a smug grin written on his face and you’re not sure why, though you don’t have the energy to question it. With sleepy eyes, you look around once more searching for anything out of the ordinary in the darkness, but you turn back to Astarion in the end. 

“I can’t sleep.” He throws another piece of wood on the fire, the light dancing across his face in pretty patterns from the dispersed light, his white shirt untied just enough to see his collarbones and the beginning of his chest. The sight alone has thrown the tenseness away from your body, and your muscles soften up, posture loosening. 

“And is there any reason in particular?” You meet his eyes again, a flurry of heat covers your cheeks, the look in his eyes telling you that you had been caught ogling him. “You seem so on edge, darling.”

He’s seated, practically the same height as you while he lays against the log, but it feels like he’s staring down at you. His fangs show as he parts his lips in a small, condescending grin. 

“I’m just not used to sleeping out in the woods s’all.” He nods, he doesn’t believe you, and you can understand why because you’ve only been camping in the wild for weeks by now. 

“Are you sure that's all? Cause I believe I heard that vile woman over there talking about a ‘bigger threat’ than whatever’s out there.” He gestures to Shadowheart and the dark, full woods around you. 

You shake your head, pout on your face, nervous that he would think differently of you if he knew what was actually going through your head. He was perceptive enough and, unbeknownst to you, you were an easy read. Of course he had heard the two of you talking, and he knew that you had not spoken ill of him, but it was so fun to tease you. And he knew you had grown nervous in his presence. 

“You’re not worried because of me are you?” Your eyes widen and you shake your head once more. There was  concern written all over his features, the crinkle in between his brows and his parted lips. To anyone else his concern would look fake, you were certain it was real. And to him, it was somewhere in between. He did feel something for you that put him in an unfortunate position, but the idea that you were scared of him sent misery through his bones.

“No of course not!” The comfy bedroll you had been laying in, shimmies down your legs as your torso tightens up again and your posture becomes much too straight for your liking. 

A soft sigh leaves his mouth, “Would you come sit over by me? You feel so far away.” His lips curve at the corners when you seem to think for a moment, but ultimately stand up. You bunch your bedroll up in your arms, not wanting to sit on the rocks. And when your eyes meet his again, he's already eyeing up your legs, you feel suddenly much too exposed. The night air nips at your skin and you hurry over to the spot beside him, throwing the bed roll on the ground and sitting on top of it. 

“Didn’t need to bring that over, silly girl. There’s a perfectly fine seat right here.” His eyes look down to his lap then back up to you, your face flush again. 

“I’m okay here,” You regret looking at him when you see his eyes plead with you, “..For now.” 

He really was cunning. You figured he was scheming. But he truly had no intention of misleading you, just wanted you close. He couldn’t help that he found it so cute how nice you were. Too nice in his opinion. Dangerous world out there, he was just trying to teach you who you could and couldn’t trust. Maybe you would get into more trouble, if you always trusted men like him.  

But no danger if you never have to think about other men. 

“Do you believe the things she says?” His eyes stared into the fire, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, that guilty feeling was growing in your stomach. “I know you must not trust me, at least not fully.”

You stay silent, you’re almost scared to talk, in fear you offend him anymore then you already have. You pull your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around your legs, guilt eating away at your insides. 

He looks at you now, with his eyes he traces your legs where your shirt no longer hangs enough to cover you, up to your face that wears a pout and tired eyes. “Do I scare you?” 

“No!” You sit up onto your knees, facing him fully. “No! I’m sorry Astarion, if i made you feel that way..”

He almost feels bad for a moment. You were too sweet, and while yes he had been worried for a moment, he was only teasing. 

In your moment of weakness, and putting yourself in an easy position, he grabs you to pull you onto his lap. Where he has wanted you all along. Both thighs on either side of his seated form, face much closer to his own than you ever planned on being. His shirt, adorning your body, hangs down your thighs and rustles against his legs. 

“Could you..promise?” His voice is so smooth, and his eyes look so alluring in this position, his hands planted on your hips. Your breath is caught in your throat when he asks, you aren't so sure that your answer before is entirely truthful now. He has too much control of this situation, and it is making you nervous, more nervous then before if that was even possible. 

“I..I promise. Of course, I promise!” You're in such a compromising position and you wish you had slept with pants on. It’s much too cold out on your bare skin, but being on Astarions lap is making your body much too hot.

“Very good.” His head moves closer to you, pulling your body into his and sending shivers down your spine. 

“Astarion!” Your hands find his shoulders, trying to put distance between you but his hold is strong. He has got you where he wants you and there is no way he will be letting you go. His face buries itself in your neck, breath tickling your skin and his nose leaving soft touches against you. 

“You smell..delicious.” His voice was sultry, and so suggestive. You knew what he wanted, had been waiting for the moment he would say something. He was a hungry man with an uncomfortable amount of power over you. And your neck was looking awfully inviting. You hated that he had you feeling so many things, for a man who was so obviously trying to take advantage of you. 

He may have thought you were naive but you were smart enough to know what this vampire wants from you. Even though you were debating allowing it just so he would be happy and full, it tugged at your mind that he might just be using you for this purpose.

Shadowheart may have been right about him being a threat while you slept, but right now he was just as threatening. Would it hurt when he sunk his teeth into your skin?

As if he suddenly became more conscious in his actions, he pulled away, breath heavy against you. “I’m sorry, you are just such an appetising little thing.” He places a soft kiss to your cheek, your silence beginning to fill him with the same guilt you were feeling. He wasn’t sure why. This is what he wanted, sure he had grown fond of you but this is what he needed from the beginning. But it didn’t feel right anymore, not with the way you were so pliable in his hands, allowing him to tease you just so you wouldn’t offend him. 

“Are you hungry?” Your voice, surprising him, sends his eyes straight to yours. You couldn’t possibly be considering what he thought you were. 

“Yes darling, but don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” He lets out a heavy sigh, planting more kisses on your cheek down to your jaw. His attempt to distract you almost works but you gently move your face away, pulling your hair away from your neck. 

“Could I help?” You looked at him with a warmth in your eyes, one he hadn’t seen from anyone but you for years. Your devotion to him pulled at his heart, you were so willing to help him without even knowing if it would hurt or not. 

“You would do that..for me?” His hand finds your cheek, voice sending gentle vibrations through you. You can only nod, scared that if you speak it’ll be nothing above a whisper. 

He takes your hair from your hand, holding it out of his way. A gentle kiss to your cheek. Another on your jaw. And he moves them all the way down to your neck where he intends to bite. 

‘Astarion?” 

“Yes, my dear?” He pulls away, and you can tell it pains him to by the look of disappointment on his face, lips too pouty for how tough he always tries to act.

“Is it going to hurt?”  His eyes are so soft when he looks at you, even though he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your flesh. 

“I’ll try to make it painless, but you can hold my hand, yeah?” You nod and intertwine your fingers with his, scared but determined to make him happy. 

He returns to his place in your neck, places a soft kiss before he sinks his teeth into you. Immediately, your fingers squeeze his own and he sends a squeeze back so you know he’s there. He almost feels bad, whimpers falling from your lips, but you taste so delectable that he can’t bring himself to. 

Astarion continues to drink, and you allow it. You only make an effort to stop him when you become dizzy, and your head becomes too heavy for you to hold on your own. Your grip on his hand loosens, and you use his other one to tap at his arm. It seems to snap him out of his trance cause he pulls away, licking his lips. 

“You taste as good as I had hoped you would.” A drowsy smile crashes against your face and your chest swells with pride, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. The energy is gone from your body. You know he wouldn’t have killed you, but any longer and you wouldn’t be in any condition to fight the next day. You didn’t know if you would be as is. 

Astarion seems to notice, and he moves you to sit inside your bed roll. Your hand still holds his, and you lay on your side to face him. 

“Such a sweet thing,” he rubs your hair flat with his free hand, admiring your sleepy features in the fire light, “Sleep my dear. I’ll keep you safe.”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

A Long Rest Is Overdue

pairing : ignis scientia x (fem) reader

summary : in a moment of over-tired weakness you let your insecurity affect your performance on the battlefield. ignis takes it upon himself to change how you're thinking.

warnings : weapons used, talk of feeling useless but nothing else. mostly fluffy.

With every swing of your blade you feel your arms growing weaker and weaker. Your body is tired due to Noctis refusing to admit he was also tired and keeping the group on the road all day. The sun is setting above you but the heat from midday continues on. Despite the sunset Noctis still refuses to rest. Another swing, and a cramp in your wrist. You know that if you let your sword fall you will be viewed as a failure. You’d be failing as a guard for Noctis, the training you went through with Gladiolus for moments exactly like this one would all be for nothing. Prompto, even as your best friend, would look at you differently. And most of all you’d be disappointing Ignis. 

But your legs are giving out, and your sword is becoming much too heavy to carry in your hands. You try to focus on your breathing, channeling all your strength into your arms to keep your sword up. Another swing. Another. A shot from Prompto's gun rings out and kills the enemy in front of you. 

“You okay?” His voice is laced with worry, even as he continues to fire his gun around. More eyes are on you now. This is exactly what you didn’t want. They couldn’t see you like this. They needed to focus. You shoot Prompto a curt nod and move on with your blade hanging dangerously close to the ground. Another enemy, a heavy swing, and a swift jab to finish it off. Your blade sticks in its chest and you're unable to pull it out. 

The battle is over and every enemy surrounding you is now lying around you on the ground, killed by other members of the group. Still embarrassment pulses through your body and you continue to pull weakly at the handle of your sword. 

“Goddamnit!” You send an aggressive kick into the animal laying in front of you, pulling your sword out finally. It doesn’t get very far and you hear the metal clang as it hits the ground. 

“That’s quite enough. The battle is over.” Ignis’ heavy hand lands on your shoulder but you refuse to look up from the place your sword rests. Your breath is heavy as you feel Ignis bend his shoulders looking to meet your eyes. You know the view he’s getting, sweaty face, red from over exertion and growing ever redder from embarrassment. Your muscles are sore enough to make your whole body shake, and your skin is covered in a layer of dirt wetted by the sweat running along your body. 

His face finally meets your eyes, brimmed with tears and still refusing to look into his. You know he sees, and it only makes you more embarrassed. You blink and a single tear makes a slow journey down your cheek, dripping off your jaw. To your surprise, though, Ignis doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Alright Noct, I propose we set up camp for the night. I believe we’ve had enough for today. I’ll prepare something for us to eat.” Noctis is silent and for a moment you honestly think he’s going to refuse, but your shoulders fall in relief when he agrees to Ignis’ idea. You fling your sword onto your back, wiping your face of any wetness before turning back to the group with a tired smile on your face. 

With Noctis and Gladiolus in the front, Ignis following close behind and Prompto holding himself back to wait for you. “Hey..um.. Are you okay?” 

“Hm?” You look at him, eyes red, but you don’t make eye contact for very long to keep him from suspecting anything. 

“It’s just you seemed unfocused on the field. And, right now, you look like you're about to cry.” You notice that Ignis slows in front of you, walking just close enough to hear you speak. 

You look at Prompto again, putting a smile on your face as best you can, “No need to worry bud. I’ve never been better! Let’s just get to the regalia.” Prompto looks like he wants to say something else but he stays quiet. 

When you finally get to the Regalia you hop in the backseat so you don’t have to speak to Ignis. You feel worthless and the possibility of him looking at you with pity or shame in his eyes has your stomach rolling just thinking about it. You don’t speak the whole car ride, even though Prompto's fingers play with the bracelet on your wrist and you can feel a pair of eyes burning into you from the rearview mirror. 

You think about what had started these thoughts that were hindering your abilities. Two months ago, you remember, you had made it clear to Ignis that you had gained strong feelings for him and to your surprise those feelings were returned. However ever since that moment you had been pushing yourself much farther than usual to keep him impressed. The last thing you would ever want to do is make him disappointed. But your performance had been worsening as you continued to overwork yourself. Instead of making yourself stronger you were just making yourself a bigger liability. 

His eyes still bore into you from the mirror, you can feel them. When you move your eyes to meet his, he keeps eye contact for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. You let out a heavy sigh before looking back at the land passing by the car, a wet line traveling down your cheek once more, quickly wiped away by your hands. Though, your sniffle is hard to cover up and you feel that same set of eyes on you once more. 

Ignis pulls over maybe a half hour later, your eyes are teetering on the edge of closing but when the car comes to a full stop you climb out with an uncharacteristic rush of energy. They set up camp, sharing jokes with each other, everyone but Ignis. He’s quiet as he sets up a place to cook dinner. He places a stool on the side, an unusual sight for someone who usually stands but it makes sense when his eyes meet yours and he points to the stool sternly. 

You feel weirdly as if you were in trouble so after your sword is placed safely by your tent, you walk over to the stool sluggishly and sit in front of him. The sternness he wore before is gone as he speaks to you now. “What would you like to eat my dear?” 

The pet name rolls off his tongue so fluidly it would make you weak in the knees if you weren’t already seated. 

“Will you make my favorite?” Ignis nods, a warm smile on his face before he begins cooking. All you can do is stare at him, he looks so at peace when he’s cooking and it almost puts you at peace too. Almost. But suddenly your mind is racing to your thoughts from before and you are thinking about how disappointed he must be in you. You turn to look at the fire where Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio are all sitting talking with each other and you think about going to sit with them instead but when a bowl is placed in your lap, the idea leaves your head.

“Thank you, Iggy.” You lock eyes and you swear you see pink glide across his cheeks before he turns to make dinner for himself and the boys. You didn’t know why but he always ensures that you eat whatever you want him to make, before the boys have eaten at all. 

After you finish eating you move to clean your bowl off, and you feel a presence behind you. His low and tired voice sends a shiver through your bones.

“I need you to sit up on the table once you're finished.” It’s Ignis. His voice makes your stomach stir again but you do as he says. The other three boys are still at the fire, far enough away that they wouldn’t hear the words leaving his mouth. Their laughs echo through your campsite. Your eyes stay glued to your boots, legs hanging off the edge and swinging around. You were waiting to be berated, or for him to say he was disappointed in your performance, or chastise you for showing weakness on the battlefield.  

But none of that ever comes. Instead his hand moves to cup your cheek, lifting your face up to look at him. In his other hand he holds a washcloth, which he dips into a bucket of water he had already filled. “You have a cut on your cheek, may I?” With warm cheeks, you nod at him, giving him your permission. 

Slowly he lifts the rag up to your face, gently wiping away a layer of grime and dried blood from the side of your face. Even though you didn’t feel it before, the water dripping down your skin and the roughness of the rag makes the cut sting and your skin tingle. As he wipes away at your skin, and the stinging becomes more noticeable you try to focus on anything else. 

His hand is still on your cheek but the warmth is not enough to distract you from the tingle on your cheekbone. Your eyes scan around for something more, landing on his face. His hair is down, a rare occurrence. It’s his lazy hair, his after the shower hair, his ‘I ran out of gel’ hair. Your fingers twitch, a reflex from wanting to run your fingers through it, but they don't move. You don’t feel the stinging anymore. 

He tosses the rag back into the bucket of water, but his eyes don’t leave yours. It almost feels like he’s caging you on the table with the way his hands are resting by both of your thighs. 

You take the opportunity to touch his hair like you had wanted to before. His hair hangs in front of his eyes and you lift your hand to move it out of his face, running your fingers through his hair towards the nape of his neck. But his eyes are still on yours and the thoughts come back all at once, hands falling to your lap and eyes following quickly after. 

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or do I have to figure that one out on my own?” Your eyes are glued to your hands still, and a sigh leaves his mouth moving the hairs in front of your face. Your hands are shaking in your lap when one of his own hands finds your face again. But you still don’t answer him. 

“My darling..” He moves your face to meet his once more , “I know something is bothering you. Please, will you tell me so I can help you?” Even with his glasses on, the softness in his eyes shines through. 

“I feel useless Iggy..” A breath you didn’t realize you were holding flies from your lips, and your eyes cloud with tears. “I have been trying..so hard..to keep you impressed with what I can do. And Noct has been staying on the road longer than at our campsites, so I’ve been using all the little energy I have to be a better fighter and to make sure you're not disappointed in me.” You continue to blubber out, “And I’m so sorry Ignis. I know I screwed up today. Please don’t be mad, I didn’t mean to cry. I’m sorry for crying.”

You struggle to form coherent sentences in between trying to catch your breath. You become flush from embarrassment, crying like a little kid while his eyes never leave your face. Your eyes red from wiping at tears before they fall and your nose pink from sniffling. Even your lips become puffy, and you wear a pout as you try to stifle sobs from falling out. His thumb rubs your cheek, wrapping his other arm around you to the small of your back to pull you into a tight embrace.

The smell of his cologne fills your nose, and as you stay in his arms clinging to his torso, your sobs begin to lessen. Slowly, after making you take some deep breaths, he pulls away to look you in your eyes again. 

“First of all. You could never disappoint me, get that idea out of that pretty head of yours, and in no way did you ‘screw up’ today. Shedding tears does not make you weak, even if you do it while holding a sword. And I could never be mad at you for crying,” He cups your cheeks in his hands, both this time, wiping away stray tears with his thumbs, “You are not useless, my dear, you are one of the strongest people I know. You pushed through exhaustion to keep Noct safe and I am so proud.”

Your lips curve at the corners, just barely, but just as quickly leave when Ignis speaks again. 

“However. You will not be pushing through said exhaustion anymore and I will be ensuring that we stop much more often to prevent this. No matter what Noctis says about it.” He places a soft kiss to your cheek, and the curvature returns to your lips. 

“One more, for me?” You puff your lips out towards him in a half-teasing manner but when his hands that cup your cheeks pull you in with a smile dancing on his own lips, your face breaks out in flames of pink. 

His lips meet yours softly, yours wet and plump from crying and his slightly cracked from being out in the sunny desert for so long. Ignis is gentle, like he’s scared to be too rough due to your fragile state, but he holds his lips against your long enough to make you flustered. He pulls away, removing one hand from your cheek but keeping the other on your face to feel the warmth of your blush under his palm. 

“Now let us join the others by the fire, yeah?”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Protect You Always

pairing : cloud strife x (fem) reader

summary: tifa is sure that cloud has feelings for you. so sure that she accidentally makes you confess.

warnings: none :)

“Could you go run errands with Cloud today?” Tifa held her hands out to you, mock pleas all over her face. 

“Huh? Why me? Why can’t you?” She backed away, turning to concoct another drink up for you, loosening you up to ask for her favour most likely. 

“Sure I could. But..he seems to have taken a liking to a certain mercenary sitting at my bar.” Suddenly your drink caught in your throat. With flushed cheeks you moved your almost empty cup up to your lips to hide your face as much as possible from anybody listening in. That was crazy. Cloud didn’t feel anything for anybody, except maybe…you thought for Tifa? With her back still turned she let out a small laugh, and you could feel the smile burning on her face. 

“That’s not funny Tifa.” Quickly she turned to face you, startling you enough to set your drink down onto the surface of the bar, as she pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“And I’m not joking. It’s so obvious. He is the nicest to you out of all of us,” she turned to grab the drink and then returned to hand it to you, “Plus he does literally everything you ask him to for FREE, you think he does that to all of us? No way.” If you thought about it long enough, she might be right. You could think of a couple examples of Cloud maybe showing you a little more attention then the rest of the group. 

He had walked you home from the bar almost every night for the past year that you had known him. Without fail. Without asking. “Girls like you shouldn’t walk around at night by themselves, it’s not safe.”

“I’m completely capable of walking myself home Cloud”.

“I know”

You would have a little too much to drink or none at all, completely sober and capable of walking yourself down the short street of the slums to your apartment. Didn’t matter, he was still walking you home. 

Cloud had never once used the excuse that it was because he lived right above you, and even if he had you would be able to easily tell he was lying because he wouldn’t go home after dropping you at yours. 

There was even that one time where you laid your head down on the surface of the bar for five minutes and had woken up in your bed the next morning unsure of how you had even got there, perhaps Cloud avoiding you the next day had nothing to do with that. 

Sometimes, when a guy would shoot an inappropriate comment in your direction, Cloud’s cheekbones would become more prominent. Why was he clenching his jaw? And why did he suddenly seem all pouty? You never paid much attention to them anyways and carried on with your day without being bothered by a sleazy guy in the street. Maybe it was simply coincidence that Cloud would always disappear for a couple hours after, without a good excuse or just leaving with a prompt, “I’ll see you later, I have something to take care of.”  

However those guys did seem to always end up coming to you with some sort of apology later that day or even the next, roughed up and clearly not there out of free will. 

And when you would ask him to do certain things for you that somebody had asked of him the same day. Tifa was right, he never asked you for payment, you couldn’t even remember a time he had accepted payment from you.. Every time you tried to pay him he refused it, pushing it back towards you. “Let's count it as a favor and say you owe me one.” Your face would scrunch up in annoyance but it would fade just as quickly as it had appeared when a barely noticeable smile would upturn Cloud's lips and his eyes would brighten the smallest bit.

“Who knew someone could have such a nice smile when they're all moody and scary all the time.”

“You think I’m scary?” Cloud seemed to make a habit out of smiling around you after that day. 

The sound of Tifa’s soft laughter had brought you back to the conversation happening in front of you, her eyes were staring into yours and you could feel your cheeks warm at her catching you daydreaming. 

“Thinking about Cloud?” You opened your mouth to retort but another voice interrupted you before you could. 

“Who’s thinking about me?” You were mortified, spinning in your chair to see Cloud approaching the bar, most likely coming to collect Tifa for their run to see who needed help. A job that you, unfortunately, had forgotten before he had made his presence known. 

“Just your favourite girl seated at my bar.” Tifa gleamed, grin wide and it only grew wider when she looked between your faces. You were flushed, embarrassed, eyes full of maybe anger and a want to hide from the earth. Cloud tried to be stoic, but he gave away his true feelings by the obvious pink tint to his cheeks and the way his mouth opened as he looked towards you. Words caught in both of your throats.

“I won’t be going with you today because I have some extra stuff to do around the bar. Is it okay if y/n goes in my place?”

“Uhhh..” Clouds hesitation made you want to crumble into a ball. If Tifa was right , and he did like you, then why wouldn’t he say yes right away? 

“I don’t have to, honestly! I can finish up for you here Tifa!” She’s shot daggers into you with her eyes.

“We’ll whoever’s coming with me, make it quick.” He stared between the two of you, face blank , before turning to go outside. You turned back to look at Tifa not waiting to hear the door close.

“What the hell are you trying to do?” It was your turn to shoot daggers into Tifa. 

“Just go with him, why is it any different than any other time?” In her hands she held a dirty class, wiping it down with a washcloth cloth as she spoke to you.

“Because Tifa now you’ve put this stupid idea in my head that maybe, and that’s a pretty big maybe, Cloud Strife might be feeling the same things I do.” She looked at you, concern rolling around in her eyes, and she looked like she was about to speak but you cut her off. 

“No. Seriously Tifa, I’m tired of you making it seem like me and Cloud might ever be anything other than co-workers. I can’t keep getting my hopes up over the same guy, and you're really not helping.” Her face was soft now, eyes full of pity before they shuffled towards the door. 

“What’s that look for?” You turned your body to follow her eyes. It occurred to, when you met his wide eyes, that you had not actually heard Cloud leave the bar. 

“I’ll be waiting..uhh..outside.” Cloud let out an awkward, silence breaking cough before letting himself out the door. 

“You are joking. This isn’t real. That didn’t happen. Why’d you let me spew like that?”

“I tried to stop you!” Before you could get any angrier at her she took your hands in hers and spoke before you. “I know that right now, in your head, the whole world just crumbled around you. But you should’ve seen the way Clouds face lit up. It was subtle but it was there.”

You went to speak but her finger met your lips. “Trust me. Go with him, and talk to him about this. Do not leave it.”

A sigh left your lips, tickling her finger enough to pull it away from yours lips, “What if you're wrong Tifa?” 

“If I’m wrong, free drinks for a year AND I’ll take over for you on every job with Cloud.” You gave her a somber nod and slipped from the barstool, dragging your feet out the door. 

Just as he had said he would be, Cloud stood not far from the door. From where you stood, and you weren’t entirely certain if you were seeing it right, but his cheeks seemed to be gleaming with an unfamiliar red color. As the door closed behind you, Cloud looked over, trying to hide the color blooming on his face. 

“Let’s go, I wanna get this done before the sun goes down.” He moves down the stairs quickly before you even get a chance to respond and your heart sinks but you follow after him anyways, heart in your stomach. 

The whole ordeal took the two of you maybe an hour and a half, but it felt much much longer. Silence overtook the two of you, both of you being much too stubborn to say the first word, so you worked in complete silence. 

When the job was done you almost slumped over in relief, but your heart had been sinking farther and farther in your body the longer it went on, and it was starting to affect you. 

“Hey Cloud,” the first words spoken between you for the last two hours, “I’m gonna head home if you don’t need anything else.” You couldn’t even hold eye contact, embarrassment burning your face. 

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” You looked up to where his mako tainted eyes were already burning into you, “But I’m still going to. We need to talk.” And with the words, you were sure you could throw up, heart fully sunk now. 

What was there to talk about? How he didn’t feel the same and Tifa had been leading you astray for months?

You walked silently beside him, skin crawling as you waited for him to say something. 

“I don’t think you’re getting your hopes up.” Hesitating, you looked up from your feet and tried to scan his face, but he was glued forwards. 

“What?”

“C’mon don’t make me repeat it. You’re a smart girl, are you gonna wait for me to spell it out?”  He shot a glance towards you and you were sure you saw it. He was red. Definitely not as red as you but the color was there!

Your heart returned back to your chest, almost tripping over your feet as you followed his quick pace. He was a man on a mission, always, and his steps were so hard to match.  “Oh!”

He didn’t say anything for the rest of the walk but he did ensure that you got up to your apartment safely.

“Would you come in for a second?” Cloud hesitated but he followed, closing the door behind him before standing awkwardly with his arms crossed. 

You sat on your bed and tried to think of the right words to say.

“I’m sure that Tifa has made it pretty obvious that I have ..romantic.. feelings for you.” Sitting down on the bed was the wrong move, you felt so much smaller than usual looking up at him, and his attention fully on you wasn’t helping much. 

“No kidding.” He rolled his eyes but let a small chuckle leave his lips. Cloud was usually so stoic, so serious, and you loved how he was never like that with you. It put a smile on your face. 

“Listen y/n,” Cloud moved towards you to sit on the bed beside you, closer than you would’ve expected from him, “I do feel the same.” A wide smile broke out on your face. his expression remained the same. 

“But you have to understand something.” And the smile flew from your face. Cloud was now showing emotion, his hand flying to your cheek, with concern flooding his eyes. 

“No. Don’t be sad,” His thumb rubbed soft circles against your skin and you weren’t even sure if he was consciously doing it, “I don’t want you to be in danger if we do this. I care about you and if people know that, you could be used to get to me. I can’t do that to you.”

You placed your hand on top of his, his thumb stopping its movement when you made contact, your other hand reaching for the one resting in his lap. “For you, I can be okay with that.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, ever.” 

“Hey! I can handle myself pretty well, you know,” His face was still so serious, and it was making you nervous, “Besides I have my own personal bodyguard.” You pushed his shoulder gently, and a small smile broke out on his face. 

“Cloud?"

"Hm?"

"Could I..kiss you?” His mouth opened slightly, but he only nodded. 

Gently, you placed your hands on the sides of his face and pulled him in until he was close enough. His lips brushed against yours and they parted just a little more, you froze in front of him in a moment of flustered hesitation. Cloud took his chance in that moment and pushed his lips onto yours, still holding your cheek in his large, rough hand. 

It was quiet and you would’ve felt nervous, if it wasn’t for Cloud’s hands on your skin keeping you so stuck in the monet, and his surprisingly soft lips still held against you.

When he pulled away, his face was still centimeters from your face with your lips still touching slightly, and you almost crumbled from looking into his blown out eyes. You were certain that you looked the same way, your pupils always seemed to be huge when you looked at him anyways. 

“I promise I will always protect you.”

“Always?” His hand found yours, holding your fingers within his own, as gently as he could.

“Forever and always.”