#— ♡ ❛ whispering to the moon. (out of character)

[tvrgaryenz]

[housetargaryenloyalist]

From a seed grows

Chapter I: Thyme

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Synopsis: To claim a dragon one must be prepared to give up their life, yet this is the one thing you never wished to give up.

Wordcount: 3.5K

Warnings: implications of death, mentions of death, but really light nothing graphic.

Author's note: It's done, the first chapter! Fun little fact: every chapter will be named after a plant/flower that represents an emotion/theme of one of the characters :) I put a lot of thought into this story, the chapter names, and the character so I hope you will feel that as you read.

One last thing, a huge thank you to @madame-fear for showing interest into the story which prompted me to continue working on it! I adore her and her work, you should check out her blog!

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

‎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡Masterlist♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Blood dripped from your hands, the dagger clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the dark, empty alleyway and reverberated in your head. Soft, sharp gasps left you as you staggered backwards, your legs struggling to keep you standing as you buckled to the ground.

Blood dripped from your hands, the dagger clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the dark, empty alleyway and reverberated in your head. Soft, sharp gasps left you as you staggered backwards, your legs struggling to keep you standing as you buckled to the ground.

“What have I done?” your voice whispered to the night, your hands gripped the stone of the street as you struggled to regain your breath. You couldn’t stay here; staying here meant getting caught, getting caught meant being punished, and the punishment would most likely be death.

A life for a life.

You looked around you, hoping you were concealed enough that you wouldn’t be recognized. The only light was a single street lantern at the entry to the alley and the moon. You knew you had very few options: leave the city, leave and hope you’ll never be found out, be found out and flogged, tortured, flayed, or hanged. None of them sounded particularly great, but one sounded the best.

You crawled to where you had dropped the dagger, knowing you couldn’t leave it behind, no matter how rusty or stained it was. You took out an old handkerchief you always carried and wiped the blood off the blade, before stuffing the dagger in its holder. You sat there for a moment, trying to regain your breath before forcing yourself upwards and onwards. You prayed as you walked towards your home, prayed for forgiveness, prayed for mercy, prayed for help.

Prayed to all the Gods you knew of, old and new, to grant you safe passage out of the city. You passed people and shops, pleasure houses and closed homes, you passed by your life, your dreams and hopes. All to be left behind.

A moment later you were at the humble shack you called home, or at least your home was one of the rooms within the shack. Fleabottom wasn’t known for having particularly good real estate, but you and all the others made do. You went to your room, unlocking the shabby door that had seen too many beatings to really be considered safe and entered your little haven.

It was by all accounts small and in an abysmal shape, mold decorated the bleak walls alongside various other stains whom you did not wish to identify. Your bed was on the left side of the room, with a clear view of the door (just in case) and your small, very small, dresser was in front of it.

You dug through the room searching for a bag of any kind, when you found it you filled it with anything that could be considered even remotely valuable. It may have been little, but it should allow you to buy a one-way trip on a ship. The destination mattered little, as long as it wasn’t King's Landing.

As you ruffled through the top drawer of the dresser you stumbled upon what felt like a button. In all your years of owning it, you had never once felt this weird object hidden amidst your possessions. Curiosity beguiled you to push it and a latch opened on the top of the dresser, revealing a small hidden compartment.

Although curiosity had won the first battle, you were unsure if you wanted it to win this one. Alas, you had dipped a toe in the water and the waves were now too strong to get out. A hidden compartment was no novelty, many stories started with the protagonist finding an object of great significance in such a place and then embarking on an earth-changing adventure to save all of mankind.

You, however, felt like quite the opposite of such, even when your fingers felt an object hidden in the dark, hidden place. You almost laughed at the absurdity of this day, perhaps the Gods above were in a jesting mood. Slowly, carefully, you pulled the strange object from its hiding place, and soon you were face to face with something you had never seen before.

It looked to be a necklace, a simple silver chain with a simple pendant, it looked much like the necklaces you saw people wear around Flea Bottom. There was truly nothing notable about it, except for maybe the seven-pointed star of the Seven decorating the front and the small engraving on the back.

An engraving that had faded badly, presumably from the necklace having been worn a lot. It could only be seen when held at a certain angle, with ample light to decipher the words: Naejot issa byka zaldrīzes.

You rolled the words over your tongue, trying your hardest to grasp whatever language it was. It sounded oddly familiar, as if it were something from a dream, a memory unclear and nearly forgotten but now resurfacing. Whatever the words may mean, you presumed them to be words the previous owner must have cherished when taking into account how faded they were.

As you looked at the words more closely you noticed small initials beneath them, your eyes lit up slightly. This necklace must have been a gift. The initials were vague, two letters common enough they could belong to anyone.

A.T.

An odd feeling washed over you as you imagined what must have happened to the owner of this beautiful piece, how it ended up hidden in a dirty old dresser, in a shabby room in an even shabbier house. You did not have much time left to waste pondering the necklace’s history, dawn was creeping up into the sky, you could see small streaks of early morning light on the horizon.

In a hurry you put the necklace around your neck and hid it under your simple clothes. You braided your hair, in a quick manner, so it would not hinder you as you hurried through the maze of Flea Bottom.

You arrived at the harbor quickly through some risky but effective shortcuts, nearly avoiding a drunken brawl. At last you had made it to what would hopefully lead you to safety, or close to it. Sailors were moving around you carrying various sizes of knapsacks and their fellow sailors who had partaken too much in cheap ale. Dockworkers were starting their morning shifts as they moved to unload the various ships laying in their docks.

They carried crates filled with the finest fabrics, with spices you could not pronounce nor taste for they would surely cost more than you’d ever be able to afford. Your eyes wandered around to find someone you could approach and soon enough you spotted a young man with silvery blond hair and shabby clothes moving towards one of the ships. As you looked to see where he was going, you noticed some others moving towards the same ship. All sporting that same silvery blond hair.

You jogged towards the man who was surprised to see you approach him, “excuse me,” you smiled at him as he came to a halt, a silent invitation for you to continue, “where is that ship headed?”

The man furrowed his eyebrows at you, as if you just asked the most idiotic thing known to man. “To Dragonstone,” was all he said before he took off, increasing the speed in his step, almost as if to deter you from following.

You pondered to yourself for a moment, as you watched more silvery blondes approach the ship. There had been rumors, for there are always rumors in Flea Bottom, about the Black Queen looking for Targaryen bastards. Anyone with either silvery blond hair, lilac eyes, or both or even neither was urged to come to Dragonstone for an opportunity to bond with a dragon. Perhaps it was more than a rumor as you saw more and more people board the ship.

It was foolish, really, truly, well and wholly foolish, you thought to yourself as you stood in front of Dragonstone, the holdfast large and formidable. Guards escorted the large group to a small courtyard, as you looked through the crowd most of them had silvery blond hair, some light, others dark. There were a few on the other hand who had come with brown hair, red hair, or even black.

All had come to stand before the Black Queen, to serve her cause by potentially claiming a Targaryen dragon. On your journey, the people had been speaking of nothing else but the dragons, their size, their coloring, their behavior.

Much regarding the opinions of dragons had changed after the Greens paraded Meleys’ head around King’s Landing for all to see. There used to hang an air of unspoken devotion to dragons, they were to be feared, regaled, and not opposed, unless one wished for imminent death.

They were gods flying high above men, and the people who rode them were their only link to humanity. Now the smallfolk knew dragons were mortal, killable, vulnerable, and that the very house who rode them also killed them, paraded them, and unlike the small folk, did not worship them.

People whispered of killing dragons, where before those words were said in bouts of drunken foolishness, they were now said with drunken confidence. The people were hungry, and the dragons were potential food. Food for the stomach of starving men, ailing peasants, and also food to fuel a rebellion.

So now, for one of these dragonriders to actively seek out Targaryen bastards and lure them with a possibility of becoming equals, many could not resist. Not even you. You knew the dangers involved in claiming such a phenomenal beast, knew it most likely meant your death if you truly tried to claim a dragon. You also knew that you were now away from King’s Landing, in what could possibly be the only place safe for no one would dare attack this stronghold with all the dragons that lay within.

A guard came up to you as you were letting your eyes wander, his Kingsguard uniform reflecting the sun caught your attention, “Hoods down,” he commanded as he reached over to pull it down himself.

Before you could stop him, you could already feel the wind tussling your braid and tickling your ear. Now, with your hood down and hair a mess, you were just like all the others.

A silver-haired bastard.

A dragonseed.

What a cruel fate you had.

Not long after, a young man strolled up to a platform in the courtyard, silence befell the crowd as they realized who he was.

Clad in the dark red and black of the Targaryens, his hands crossed on top of the pommel of his sword, brown curls whirling around his face.

Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, daughter to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and he was a beautiful, beautiful man. He addressed the crowds, warning them of the danger, thanking them for their arrival, yet it all felt weirdly aggressive. There was no thankfulness or appreciation to be found in his tone, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned.

You heard a man behind you whisper that he was just a coddled princeling and another chuckled in response, you looked behind you briefly hoping that a stare would silence them. As you looked up back to the prince, you noticed him looking in your very direction. It almost felt as though he was looking directly at you, into your own eyes.

Others who had the same notion as you lowered their heads in reverence, in respect for their prince albeit that some carried an air of reluctance to them as they did. You felt no such devotion, felt no such need and your actions reflected that. There would be no bowing to a man meters in front of you, who spoke to you with contempt, as if your lives meant nothing at all.

His speech was over quickly, and he was gone with a few guards following in his steps. Another guard stepped up and made one last declaration before the group was to go into the dragons’ lair. “All those who wish to leave may leave, no harm shall befall you. You will be escorted back via ship at the earliest possible moment. All the others-” he signaled another guard who opened up the barricades put in place earlier, “follow me.”

Many of the crowd left, deciding that the threat of death so brutal was too large to face in comparison to the one they would face in King’s Landing. You supposed you could not blame them, a death by dragon fire or dragon stomping didn’t sound pleasant, however the fate that would no doubt await you in Flea Bottom sounded worse.

The ones left over were escorted to the inner parts of the castle, staircase after staircase, never once allowed to dawdle or gawk. The Queensguard were strict and didn’t hesitate to employ certain tactics to keep all in line. You winced as one of the guards struck a young man for touching a statue, the guard said nothing as he did so, only pushing the lad back into the line when he was done.

Tears pricked in the corner of the boy’s eyes, his hand cradling his hurting cheek. He had been pushed right in front of you, almost causing you two to collide. You tapped his shoulder as you procured an old handkerchief from your pocket, “here” you said as you practically shoved it into his non-occupied hand. He smiled a soft smile at you in thanks, before taking the fabric and dabbing at his eyes.

He didn’t seem much younger than you, perhaps he wasn’t. You didn’t ponder it too much however, chances were that he would die in the dragon pit just like many others. There would be no benefit in cosying up with the others, knowing that after this most of you will likely be dead or have risen too far in station to consider yourself with your lessers.

You cursed yourself and your cynicism often, however, today you proved yourself right. You were clinging to the walls of the dragon’s cave, hoping for dear life he had not seen you. The only light source you had were the flames that had come from Vermithor as he erupted in a fury that made him worthy of his name.

By now he must have devoured nearly all of the bastards that came to try and stake a claim. You pitied all of them, they tried to improve their standing however now all they were were ash and bones. Growls followed by screams were heard in the distance from yourself, perhaps the distance was large enough for you to get out and run, flee, escape, whatever the apt word might be.

An escape would be difficult, were it not for the fact that Vermithor was deeply engrossed in hunting a few people in the opposite direction of where you needed to go. You stalked through his enclosure with practiced ease, you tried to remain calm with your heart pounding in your chest, clouding your hearing and making your breath erratic. You refused to die here, you refused to be a burned corpse or some dragon’s dinner. No, you wanted to be more, so much more.

You wanted to be more than a peasant from Flea Bottom, a silver-haired bastard, a woman, you wanted to be more than all that. You wanted to be more than a dragonseed, more than what your parents doomed you to be. In order to achieve that, you would need to rise to the occasion and escape. With every ounce of strength, willpower, resentment, and fear you had in you, you ran towards the exit.

As you reached the opening you noticed it didn’t lead to solid ground, no grass or rocks to greet you. As you smelled the fresh air you also smelled the unmistakable smell of the sea. A salty fishy smell filled your nostrils and consumed your lungs.

Into the sea you soon jumped, a stupid, reckless idea, but far better than trying to climb down a mountain. All you hoped for was that the Gods would show you mercy and carry you to shore. The sea was cold, colder than you had expected, it took you great power to swim close to shore and drag your body through the sand before collapsing.

Your chest moved up and down in quick succession, desperate for air, as you tried to regain your strength you closed your eyes, letting the happenings of the day pass through your mind.

Sleep tried to claim you, alas, it was to no avail, for soon thereafter a loud roar resonated into the sky causing you to bolt upright from where you laid. A winged creature flew above you. It was large and formidable, you believed it to be even larger than the dragon you had seen in the Dragonstone caves.

The formidable beast’s shadow covered you as it flew over the sun, for as far as your eyes could see the world was now shrouded in darkness, only in the far distance could you see the sun rays touch the ground once more. The roars it let out were bone-chilling, a feeling of dread had washed over you from the moment you rose but now you were rooted to the ground with the fear of death settling in your veins which ironically left you unable to move. You had never imagined your death this way. Where nobles imagined dying in their canopy beds on silken sheets, you would be lucky if you died by a clean cut to your neck.

Now, however, it seemed you would die from this dragon thinking you made a decent hors d'oeuvre, before finding something larger or more plentiful to truly fill its stomach. Gods you really had a most cruel fate.

Once more a deafening roar resounded to the sky, causing your knees to buckle in fear as your hands shot to your ears in a vain attempt to dampen the noise. You kept your eyes locked onto the large figure as it soared through the sky, going higher and then lower, as if taunting you, playing with you, truly regarding you as prey.

In an odd way it frustrated you, standing there, waiting, baiting your breath as to when the dragon finally decided to end you. Anger rose through you more and more the longer this cat and mouse dance continued. Fear became an afterthought as your anger of a futile death overcame you.

“I’m here!” You screamed at the sky “Kill me! I dare you!” If anyone saw you, they’d be regarding you as a madwoman, which admittedly you were. However, it seemed as though no one was there, on this vast beach with waves continuing their cycle of ebb and flow, you were alone. Alone with the dragon. One last attempt you thought as you opened your mouth to scream, yet no sound could come for that very moment the dragon chose to descend onto the ground.

Your frozen feet suddenly could not move any faster, the large dragon got closer as you scrambled to get away, the sand making for incredibly difficult terrain when you want to be quick. One wrong step and you were sent tumbling down, face first in the sand. With the thought of impending death overtaking your mind, you found the tiniest bit of energy to turn around. In doing so, you were facing the dragon as it descended, shielding your eyes as sand was blown in all directions from the beating of the wings. A loud thud echoed on the empty beach as the beast finally stood on solid ground, its large body covered you in shadow.

Its snout was so close to your face, you could feel the puffs of hot breath. Bright, emerald green eyes were in stark contrast to the pitch black of its scales. The dragon was magnificent as it was terrifying, you gulped and took rapid breaths. Panic had settled in now, panic, fear, and anger, none were a pretty feeling. One of your hands went up to clutch your new necklace as you closed your eyes.

Waiting for the inevitable.

.

.

.

On a distant dune stood a smaller dragon, much smaller than the one hovering over the young woman. Upon that small dragon, with scales of olive green and wings decorated with a pale orange, sat the young prince, a spyglass held to one of his eyes as he witnessed the scene.

A part of him felt a great sense of pity for the woman. She looked young, perhaps around his age, and she had showed great courage in fleeing from Vermithor. A pity she would die so soon, yet at the same time. A bastard less or more would not make any difference

He closed his spyglass and pocketed it inside his tunic. There was no need to watch the scene unfold, he thought. He buckled his saddle tighter and spoke to his dragon, “sōvēs Vermax.”

[alatushours]

☆ SLEEPYHEAD, feat. roronoa zoro — no matter how tired he is, zoro is always willing to keep you company.

contents. gender neutral reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship. soft zoro ! ! ! post-timeskip but can be read any time after the crew receives the sunny. tw. insomnia, reader is gn but lives in the women’s quarters, maybe ooc zoro ♡ word count. 616

notes. aaand mari finally makes a comeback !!! so sorry to keep you all waiting for so long, i lost my spark for a while. however i am excited to say that this is my official one piece writing debut !!! (love potion doesn’t count guys) i think about zoro everyday,,, he’s such a comfort character to me <3 sorry for any mistakes, i haven’t written in a very long time ♡

when you can’t sleep, you go look for zoro on the sunny.

peeking open the door of the girl's cabin, you step out in your sandals onto the wooden deck, the floorboards slightly creaking. walking to the port side of the ship, you watch the reflection of the stars over the open sea before moving to search for your lover.

sometimes zoro might be sitting on night watch at the bow, or in the kitchen for a midnight snack. most of the time though, he’s up in the crow’s nest training or catching up on sleep away from the rowdiness of the men’s cabin.

you find him doing the latter tonight, his swords cradled in his folded arms as he dozed. you smile and close the door quietly behind you, careful not to disturb him.

however, zoro stirs, his eye peeking open. “hey. what’re ya doing?”

well, there goes that. “sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper. “i was just coming to look for you.”

he chuckles softly. “couldn’t sleep again, huh? why didn’t you just say so?”

you smile sheepishly. “sorry… i had too much coffee today, and then earlier me and the girls were watching a horror movie on the video transponder snail, so now i’m up.”

you shrug, and your boyfriend laughs again. “c’mere.”

you make your way to snuggle into zoro’s chest. his gold earrings clink together as he shifts, his arms moving to wrap around your waist. “how was your day?” you ask him, absentmindedly tracing the scar on his torso.

“nothin’ interesting,” he replies, his voice raspy in your ear. “just training ‘nd watch, the usual.” but you could tell he was tired, from the way he was blinking slowly every few seconds to keep himself from falling asleep. “whadda ‘bout you?”

you talk to him for a few minutes, telling him about how you and chopper caught a load of fish today (and how luffy ended up eating all of it at the end, to sanji’s anger). zoro chuckles, smiling as he listened to your ramblings.

after a while, zoro hums, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair. “sorry, i needa sleep,” he whispers in your ear. “nami said we’re gonna get to the next island real early in the mornin’ so i gotta keep watch. you can sleep here with me if ya want, though.”

“oh, okay,” you intertwine your fingers with his, making yourself comfortable against the warmth of his body. “will you call me when you wake up? i wanna watch the sunrise with you.”

your boyfriend nods slowly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “sure. now go to sleep, yeah? i’ll be here if ya need me.”

“okayyy,” you draw out the word. “oh, one more thing.”

he groans, “what is it?”

you grin at him, giving him a kiss on the lips. “i love you, ‘zo.”

zoro smacks your ass playfully, but not without returning the kiss. “yeah, yeah, i know. i love you too. now seriously, go to sleep!”

you giggle, closing your eyes to the soft lull of his breathing. eventually, you drift off to sleep, not knowing that your lover was still awake to ensure your peaceful rest.

zoro would slice up mountains, cut the moon in half and bring the pieces back to you if you asked; he'd do anything for you. your needs always come first; after all, he will always be indebted to the love that you showed him, what seemed like not so long ago. something as small as helping you fall asleep was nothing compared to your love, your utter adoration for him.

plus, he always slept better with you at his side.

end notes. the fact that it took me a month to write the first half of this and the other half in less than a day… and it’s still not even 1k words 😭 idk how i used to do it omg. but anyhoo soft zoro soft zoro soft zoro ! ! ! i’m normal about him i swear

© alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[kaleldobrev]

In the Cover of the Night

Pairing: Felix Catton x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Felix Catton

Summary: Felix fingering you on the steps in the middle of the night

Word Count: 939

Warnings: Cursing (5x), Smoking (Brief), Smut (Fingering - Semi-Public) & Praise Kink (Implied)

Authors Note: Semi-public sex tag as this is taking place outside | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

There was a slight summer breeze as you sat out on the steps with a lit cigarette between your fingers, looking up at the almost full moon in the starry night sky. You were severely under dressed to be outside this time of night; only wearing one of Felix's light dress shirts with absolutely nothing else underneath, as it was the first piece of clothing you had managed to find from the scattering of clothes on yours and his floor from the needy and desperate sex the two of you engaged in after yet another Catton dinner party.

As you placed the cigarette into your mouth, you turned your attention to yours and Felix's bedroom; the darkness completely consuming the space — the moonlight trying it's best to make it's way into the room but ultimately failing because of the curtains completing covering the windows.

You heard footsteps coming from behind you, and you turned to see who it could be. Your first thought was Venetia as she would usually be the one to come and spend time with you this time of night; the two of you often enjoying staring up at the moon together. But it was Felix who was making his way toward you with an already lit cigarette in hand wearing just his robe and nothing else. "Were you peeping at me before you decided to come and join me?" You asked, as your boyfriend took a seat on the same steps your feet were placed on.

“For a bit. You look very tempting like this; couldn’t help myself,” he smiled, popping the cigarette between his lips.

"I was just having a little smoke and looking up at the moon. What's so tempting about me this way?" You asked as innocently as you possibly could while nonchalantly starting to part your legs, and putting out your cigarette on the steps.

You noticed his eyes starting to move from your own to your legs as he placed a single hand on your thigh, smirking as he did so. “You’re wearing one of my shirts with no panties on, love,” he stated. As he spoke, his hand moved up your thigh slowly, stopping at the hem of the dress shirt. “And you know how much I love fucking you in my clothes,” he added, keeping that signature smirk of his on his lips.

He removed the cigarette from between his lips, and put it out in a spot next to yours before his fingertips started to inch their way higher so they were completely underneath the shirt. He brushed them ever so slightly against your clit, and you were starting to get wet from the insanely brief contact that he was giving you. You used to be embarrassed by this, embarrassed by how turned on he had made you by barely doing anything; how instantly there would be such a pool between your legs the second he even remotely looked in your direction. But as time went on, you didn’t care, didn’t care because you knew how much he loved having this kind of effect on you, because you had the exact same effect on him.

“Always so ready for me,” he whispered; two fingers running up and down your clit. “Want to fuck you just like this,” he whispered again, his fingertips still teasing the outside.

“Then do it,” you stated; and his smirk grew even wider — you didn’t think it could get any wider. He didn’t say anything in response; he simply just started dipping his two fingers inside of you, starting to fill you with the sensation you always seemed to crave. Despite having sex with him only a few hours prior, you would never get tired of the feeling of him filling you up.

Your head automatically went back and you shut your eyes; but it was so brief as his other hand went to your jaw, making you focus on his face. His fingers went in deeper, slightly curling. “Lift up the shirt a little so you can look,” he said, an octave above a whisper. “Want you to see how beautiful you look like this.”

Without hesitation, you did as you were told, and lifted the hem of the shirt more, your pussy completely exposed out in the open as you watched his fingers disappearing and reappearing inside of you — the moonlight providing the most erotic looking type of light. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, and he finally leaned in to capture your lips; which caused his fingers to go even deeper inside of you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed; his fingers starting to pick up the pace just only slightly. Your moans were so muffled, and that's one of the things he had loved when it came to fucking you like this out in the open. He loved how you tried so hard to remain quiet, but always failed.

You started to clench around him, and he smirked into the kiss. "Does my girl need to come?" He whispered in your ear; slightly nipping at your earlobe before starting to kiss your neck.

"Yes," you moaned out, as he continued to suck and kiss your neck — ultimately wanting to leave hickies on your skin.

"Then come," he said softly, his lips attaching themselves to your chest; almost peppering kisses just below your collarbone.

With a few more pumps, your whole body started to shudder as you came; but his movements didn't let up as he helped you ride out your orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he praised against your skin. He always praised you.

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[malleleothreesome]

Fellow Honest Drunken Confession Feat. Playful Land Cast

(Ch.1 & Ch.2)

🌟 summary: Rewriting the end of Playful Land event where instead of Fellow Honest running away, he tries to convince you and your classmates to go out drinking with him. Cause he's super into you. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW so far (undecided on the end), fluff, romance. This is a slice of life comedy. You're just gonna have to go into it blind. Take my word for it. You're gonna love it. If you don't, don't tell me. All characters assumed to be of legal drinking age besides Gidel. ༶༶༶ 🌟 inspired by: this ask from @omo-kitty thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

🌟 song: Trust Fund "Oh, where, oh, where is my trust fund? Why can't I get ahead? 'Cause I have to work My daddy's such a jerk For not givin' me all his cash" ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 4.7k

Fellow Honest lets out an exasperated sigh, perched next to you and your classmates as the massive cruise ship that housed Playfulland amusement park sinks into the ocean’s abyss. With his hands clasped behind his head, a carefree grin lights up his face. 

"You know what?" He asks, turning to you. 

His fox ears twitch atop his head as a salty breeze sifts through his orange hair. Night was encroaching, a half moon suspended in the starry sky, pale and glowing. You stare back into his face, noting the visible points of his fangs, and the tip of his curly orange tail swishing happily. 

Fellow winks as he laughs his signature haughty cackle. "Do you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Ace Trappola perks up at the mention of alcohol and barrels forward, face beaming with naivety. "Hey, free drinks? You're talking to the right person, Man. You gonna let us drink free? I mean, it's like, the least you could do for trying to traffic us, am I right?" 

Trey Clover hisses, “Ace!!!” in a desperate (and failed) attempt to shut him up. 

Fellow regards the spectacle with the blankest of stares, his ear flicking as a whisper of a wince flickers across his visage.

The monster of a man tilts his head and smiles slyly to you—and only you. 

His eyes sweep you up and down as he croons, "just you and me, Hot Stuff. We're talking romantic, steamy even. We’re connected… don't deny it. Whaddaya say?" 

Fellow steps closer, tongue running along his canines as he looks you up and down with a cheeky grin and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You, me, alone, drinking, talking... I'll be real good to you—I'm an honest guy! All my business is legit now!" 

He throws his head back, and with a flourish of his arms, roars with a particularly raucous laughter. Upon composing himself, his piercing orange eyes turn sharp, and he flashes you another lecherous look. A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, an eyebrow rises suggestively. Fellow leans to whisper in your ear, lingering in the electricity of your aura a bit too long before speaking. You shiver. 

His voice drops to a low, suggestive purr as hot breath grazes your neck, "but, if you like, a little bit naughty ain't out of the question... "

Before you can respond, Ace—unable to be subdued by Trey—makes his way back over and elbows you in the arm. As clueless as ever, his freckled cheeks flush bright pink from excitement. 

"Free drinks, Bro! He's an underworld mobster, Dude—a high ranking one—we'll be VIPs anywhere we go. We’ll be sipping absolute top shelf… not that gross, warm piss from a barrel everyone else gets!" 

Ace is giving the performance of his lifetime, gripping his heart and holding out his arms in utter theatrics, then leaning heavily on your shoulder. 

"Free… top shelf… liquor!" Ace shouts to the rest of your classmates, waving them over.

Fellow's eyebrow elevates further, threatening to leave the confines of his forehead. His eyes remain dead, cold. His tail, for once, stays perfectly still, frozen in an upright arch. When his lips part in a rigid smile and his shoulders begin to shake, a venomous displeasure radiates from him, palpable enough for you to feel on your own skin. Out of his mouth spills a jumble of fragmented curse words and giggles. You look at him in mild alarm, unsure if he has finally reached a state of losing his goddamn mind, or if he's about to commit a violent murder—starting with Ace.

Fellow holds up both gloved palms, covering his face. Slowly shaking his head, he doubles over, wiping away tears of hysteria in an uproarious guffaw. You are stunned, staring as Fellow wheezes and struggles to get ahold of his faculties. 

Catching his breath, he throws back his head and bellows with unrestrained joy, "The sheer audacity! The unmitigated gumption of this fool—oh my GOD.”

In a valiant effort to calm himself, he holds up his hands, as if praying, a wicked grin plastered across his face. Ace squints suspiciously at his antics, still totally clueless to Fellow's intent. Trey shakes his head slowly, rubbing his face in abject defeat, looking as if he's willing his brain to purge the trauma of ever coming to this place. 

Fellow breathes deeply. "Sorry, sorry, it's just funny, oh my God. Wow. He has some balls on him, I'll give him that! I really admire the gall. You know what? This brat might have a career in the biz." The fox beastman reaches out and condescendingly ruffles Ace's head of red hair.

"Alright, tough guy. Yeah, let's go get boozed. And hey, little Bastard—" his fiendish grin takes a more sinister tone, fangs slightly exposed. "Just so you know, if your pathetic college didn't send that sweetheart…” He winks suggestively at you, before his eyes wander across the crowd of students, utterly unimpressed, “I'd never be letting any of you idiots go. No way! I’d have dragged each of you back to my boss by force. Don't test my generosity or my kindness." 

Smirking, he shoves his finger into Ace's face, leaning towards him with intent to intimidate.

Fellow takes a sharp inhale and clasps his hands shut. "Now, just for fun, let's get liquored up on the highest rooftop bar, play some poker, do a little dancing..." His eyes flit back over to you— "...maybe some smooches, hey?" A foxy yip punctuates his sentence. His eyes return back to Ace, whose lips are pressed in a firm, disapproving line. Fellow's eyebrow twitches with delight as he takes in Ace's defiance, biting his lip for a second so as not to cackle.

"There isn't going to be any 'VIP treatment,' 'free drinks,’ or 'top shelf.' Is that clear? Who do you think I am? You think I like doing that type of shit?" 

He points to the water, gesturing to the decimated remnants of the amusement park. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Kid, people don't do those types of jobs because they're loaded.” 

He leans down to get eye level with Ace, using expressive jazz hands and a pompous voice. “'Oh, man, my yacht's all paid off and ready, better become a goddamn kidnapping organ trafficker—oh, the glamor! The luxury!' Do you understand what I'm saying, you dinky little shit?"

You can't help it—you burst out laughing. His grin returns full force, and he winks at you knowingly. He looks back to your classmates, and you consider his movements. The pure self-assurance in his stride, his careless and brazen attitude, his cheeky cockiness—intricate pieces of exactly what drew you to him initially. While his irreverence for any societal construct has both scared and enamored you, the sheer madness he exhibits on a regular basis is so addictive. How could you deny a guy with this level of audacity? You really, really want to give it a whirl—experiment with what might be if you throw caution to the wind.

His smile grows, noting the chagrin across your classmate's faces. Fellow gestures dramatically once more, his gloved hands clawing through the air, his gesticulations growing increasingly overzealous as he waxes poetic on the harsh realities of adult life. 

"So, listen up. Listen very carefully. Picture this: I'm poor. I'm scrappy. I was homeless. I don't even own the suit you're seeing right now! My clothes are stolen off the street." His expression darkens, ears and tail drooping, shoulders slumped, and head lowered. For a fleeting, transitory instant, there's an indiscernible emotion that flickers through his eyes—something genuine that betrays his frivolity. "That boy is the only family I have, and we've got nothing to our name."

He stares forward at something only he can see, his gaze boring a hole into the horizon. It is a wistful, haunted gaze, a longing and lost memory in his eyes, a sad sigh that drifts on a gentle summer breeze, lost within its dreams. "Not a single thing. Just the two of us, struggling and barely making ends meet, scraping by in this horrible, unforgiving, greedy world that cares not for the innocent and goodhearted folk. We need to be greedy. Selfish, if we want to keep each other safe. So, excuse me for being just a tad on the offensive side, you entitled fucking brats! I had to be the strongest so I could support the both of us. You truly know nothing about suffering—this isn't a pretty life to have and it isn't fair, yet, what can you do? Adapt, or die. There is no romanticism about hunger, about living like animals, constantly scrambling for scraps of food like the world is a bottomless garbage can and you are its filthiest dog." The sardonic chuckle he gives isn't unkind, merely tinged with bittersweet longing. You reach a hand out, resting it on his shoulder, and his fingers close over it with a soft caress.

There's a touch of vulnerability in his eyes, and his words strike a cord that resonates deeply within your soul. Though it hurts and grieves you, his explanation was enough for you—a starting point of understanding, as you accept him exactly for who he is. You see beyond the facade—the sheer intensity of the desperation that underlines his words and actions, that hollowness within him that yearns for more than the world can provide. 

Fellow seemed to awaken with greater purpose when you looked into his soul and told him he didn't have to do bad things. Something shifts in his eyes as he considers new paths. You see the stitches holding his tattered spirit together loosen slightly, revealing glimpses of his raw wounds, the aches and scars that he buries with sarcasm and callousness. His vibrant, intelligent, playful nature deserves more—his life isn't meant to be wasted, yet he feels as if that's precisely what he has done, resigning himself to this existence of bitter hatred against the world. When you meet his gaze, you feel a tenderness blooming in the chilly winter frost of his chest, like the first glimpse of spring. At last, you can sense the farce crumble, and the real Fellow taking shape underneath. You wish you could spend the rest of the evening talking to him. 

Fellow's fingers remain intertwined with yours as the moment passes and his flirtation returns. There is an uncanny ease with which the man is able to keep his expression blank while swapping personalities, as if each identity is a costume he wears as long as it suits him. A fleeting look of sadness drifts over him before being replaced by his cheeky, foxy smirk. He reasserts the cocky, irreverent demeanor—his favorite cloak. His orange eyes flit towards yours before gazing into the crowd of your classmates. You squeeze his palm reassuringly, and he beams down at you with gratitude. His finger swipes across your cheek, gently brushing it.

Fellow smiles his carefree smile, but there's a warmth and gentleness behind his orange gaze now. 

"All that being said,'' the beastman claps his hands together, grinning widely and putting on another showman's performance, "I bet I could do a little persuading to get us some free booze. We're going drinking, my new friends!" He throws his hands up jovially. 

A chorus of voices in front of him ring out in dissonance at the thought, except for Ace—who is whooping and hollering triumphantly, and Kalim, who is cheering in earnest. Before the rest of your classmates have time to voice their objections, Fellow shouts out, pointing at everyone, a finger dramatically extending in the air.

"Ah, ah ah—none of your whining and sniveling bullshit, you snot-nosed punklings. We're all getting our rocks off tonight and it's on me. Consider this the apology tour for almost making you all... well, go into involuntary servitude, to put it lightly." 

The corner of his lips twitch as his orange eyes scan the crowd for recognition, yet remain friendly despite his teasing. 

"Besides, a celebration is due! What I learned tonight was so startling to me—I did not foresee myself going down an honest path, a career in helping the helpless. This is truly life-altering, and it's all thanks to you folks." 

Another moment of vulnerability flickers in his eyes and his mouth is slack, letting the raw honesty and realization of change settle. A stunned silence from the crowd ensues.

Flailing his arms wildly to keep up and air of lightheartedness, Fellow huffs, the first signs of exertion finally showing. He was beaten up pretty badly while trying to detain your classmates, after all. He continues his pitch. 

"Of course, no hard feelings or anything. Just a nice fun night, free drinks, music, laughter—how could any of you possibly turn down such a gift?" 

With a grin and a gesture to the amusement park's busted entrance gate, he declares his final verdict. 

"It is your final day off before a lifetime of school, study, stress and commitment to society—your youth is ending, friends. Embrace this wonderful last sunset of freedom—because by tomorrow, we will all be under the yoke of labor, spending our lives slaving away to pay rent while we deal with taxes and the true horror of capitalism! At least, those without trust funds, right? Hah." 

Once more, your classmates all clamor with protests. 

"Like Hell I’m goin’ out drinking with that guy! Don't take orders from that shady jackass," Leona roars through the crowd.

Fellow’s scowls, tail swishing vehemently back and forth. 

"Ya just met him yesterday and he was about to sell us all off! Does a sociopath's Nice Guy act not make you the least bit suspicious or even nervous? Don't fall for it. No one's that forgivin' or stupid." Leona stares coldly at the conman with an indignant sniff as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Vil stands with his arms crossed as well, but his posture and expression exude boredom as he blows out an annoyed exhale, visibly judging his idiot classmates. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with Leona once again," he chimes in, ignoring the aggravated huff from the Savanaclaw dorm leader. "Our kidnapper is insistent on buying us drinks? Who does that?! Clearly, this guy has something up his sleeve." Vil clicks his tongue derisively, and flicks his purple hair over his shoulder in dismission.

Floyd, ignoring the forewarnings entirely, throws his arms up happily. He bellows, "hell yeah! What's better than a night of heavy partying to lighten up the mood, right? Bring it on. There's alcohol involved? It’s free? I’m in." He giggles maniacally, wrapping an arm around Fellow to pull him in for an enthusiastic noogie (and completely ignoring the pained squeaks coming out of the conman's mouth). Floyd’s twin brother, Jade, grins in agreement to the proposal.

Trey adjusts his glasses nervously, brows knitting and mouth stuck in a grimace. He opens mouth and closes his mouth a few times before suggesting, with trepidation, “it is... quite unusual for him to take us out drinking all of a sudden... are we sure this isn't some sort of trap, or a game, or—"

Trey is cut off by a loud groan from Ace. "Weren't you guys paying attention?!" Ace shakes his head rapidly and scoffs with derision. "He's obviously trying to get into Y/n's pants! The guy's totally thirsty! How are you not seeing this? He was checking Y/n out when he was doing all that crazy shit in the amusement park." 

A tense moment of silence falls across your class as they turn their heads towards you, eyeing you with surprise. "He's been hitting on the prefect this entire time! His weird-ass obsession is for real—no joke or scam. He's interested, I know it when I see it. He knows Y/n's not gonna go unless he takes all of us. So, like... yes, of course I'm into free beer!" 

Ace's red eyes gleam like he's just discovered the polio vaccine, proud of his insightfulness and intellect. The other students look back and forth between you and the notorious criminal fox beastman, noting his nonplussed smirk, calm tail wagging, and the way in which his ears prick up in excitement at the conversation about you.

Another uncomfortable moment passes. Your cheeks feel warm, knowing everyone's eyes are still on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them. 

Kalim claps his hands together and chirps, "oh yeah, come to think of it, he does seem like he's super fond of you! All his cute talk and that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at you and listens to your every word—he clearly really, really likes you, Y/n! That's totally awesome you found someone special in such a dark place!" 

Kalim is—almost comically—unaffected by Fellow's unsavory reputation. "And isn't it great if he's truly starting down a righteous path instead of being a bad criminal who hurts and steals from people? We've got to support him, this could be his fresh start! We're his friends, and that's what friends are for—they help each other out. We'll save him from evil!" 

Kalim is positively beaming now, his energy infectiously reassuring and radiant. "I’m looking forward to a fun night, count me in!" 

Leona scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut before looking into the distance. It’s as if his consciousness has departed, from the sheer idiocy of this conversation. 

“How much has that fuckin' clown got you brainwashed already to make you spout such delusions of grandeur?!" He gapes at Kalim's relentless positivity. "C'mon Jack, we're goin' back. They can handle themselves." Without a backward glance, he walks away, trusting that the freshman will follow suit.

With a short sigh of resignation and a brief incline of his head, Jack follows along in his dorm leader's wake. "Sorry, guys," he murmurs. "I gotta agree with my Housewarden. Something doesn't feel right. Hope to see you all later." The wolf man turns his back and trots to catch up with Leona.

Fellow wears an indecipherable expression as he watches them leave. The muscles around his eye twitch slightly and an ear has flattened against his hair in annoyance. Though Fellow is doing his level best to remain unaffected by the sour reactions, a tiny tendril of disappointment wavers briefly over his features. His resolve steels, yet he keeps his smile, resolutely ignoring their mutterings as his fox tail sweeps side to side. His body language remains relatively casual and open, save for a subtle defensive set in his posture and shoulders. He stands a little taller in an attempt to maintain his cool.

Vil scoffs and walks over to the gate, holding up his perfectly manicured hands in mock surrender. "There's no amount of liquor on the planet worth suffering his disgusting presence or getting tangled in whatever diabolic schemes he's attempting. He's a repugnant vagabond with nothing but deceit and manipulation oozing from his vile, malicious tongue. Y/n, you can do far better—really, anyone with a proper background and education instead of someone from the fringes of society who can't even feed himself." 

With a flip of his hair, Vil sniffs dismissively. He gives you one last look of disapproval before strolling away in search of a less irritating place to be.

Ace begins to panic, feeling his chance at free drinks slipping through his fingers. "Wai- Wait- wait, WAIT—everybody STOP," Ace frantically exclaims in desperation. "Come back, you can't just leave! Come on! There’s free alcohol at stake here! Please?! Dammit. UGH!" 

Vil's words seemed to hit home. Fellow's unbreakable poker face crumbles as his ears pull down flat against his scalp. His tail stiffens, lowering between his legs in utter humiliation. The fox beastman swallows thickly as the tides of his happiness drain. Gidel scurries up to Fellow and places a hand gently on his back to console his guardian. Fellow tries to plaster a makeshift grin back on, but his pain bleeds through, brow furrowed and eyes darting, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

Ace blinks and smiles awkwardly before muttering, "Well, now I actually feel pretty bad." His freckled face reddens slightly, cheeks taking on a darker tinge of rose as the color creeps out to his ears. A soft, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his mouth. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, clearly caught somewhere between guilt and shame—internal conflict is evident. 

Despite all the flippant, disrespectful comments, teasing and general disregard Ace has shown Fellow, this complete and public emotional breakdown appears to hit Ace harder than he'd care to admit, and perhaps—just maybe—a faint sense of kinship forms at the connection he sees between himself and the conman. Two jovial and clownish individuals—born entertainers. Suddenly, this moment strikes Ace more so than anything else Fellow has said or done thus far, leaving the redhead oddly touched. It’s as if his own heart was personally struck by the kind, selfless soul Fellow seems to be deep down, no matter how hard the foxman tries to keep it buried.

"Listen, man," Ace smiles shyly, shifting from foot to foot with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. "You know, even if nobody else says it, I, uh... Well... If you're going straight," Ace chuckles, clearing his throat, "like you say, then you're pretty cool. Besides, all your antics are pretty funny. And... The way you really care for him..." Ace stares with admiration, nodding his head towards Gidel, voice low with reverence. His cheeks are completely red now, unable to formulate words, just awkwardly shuffling around trying to escape his own embarrassment. 

"You're a... a really good big brother. You know," He sputters, blinking and glancing to the side before slowly looking back at Fellow, and then you. "So... Just forget about Vil's stupid bullshit and move on. Because..." He pauses for a second before nodding assuredly, his confidence growing. "Because you've got plenty to give! It might not feel like it, and sometimes there will be a moment where all seems lost..."

You shake your head in disbelief. Had Ace just openly spoken words of wisdom? Such kind words, too—from him of all people! That, surely, is the sign of an actual miracle happening, since Ace, your dearest friend, is not typically one for… sincerity. ‘Shocking’ would be an understatement. Ace's friendly gaze causes Fellow's orange eyes to grow glassy. Your classmates, equally as stunned, stare at Ace in open astonishment.

Ace presses on with his impromptu speech, conveying the utmost sincerity, "You've got to be strong and push past your misfortune, and not allow yourself to think you're not worthy of love or care." His smile grows warmer and he turns his face to you, making brief eye contact before casting his gaze back towards Fellow. "I just know that somewhere out there, a happy life awaits you... and maybe... there's someone wonderful to share it with."

Now why would Ace allude to you when you haven't even decided your feelings yet? You quickly turn around to conceal the rising flush in your cheeks. You’re somewhere between mortified and thrilled for Ace to publicly express his support of your romance. Nerves flood your stomach—the anticipation, the prospect of falling in love has made you equal parts anxious and giddy. A mixture of euphoria and despair hits you all at once—how beautiful to acknowledge your affections for the fox man—yet, can you commit?

You look over at Cater and mouth with abject horror: 'What the fuck is going on?'

Cater looks thoroughly entertained by the entire event, flashing you a thumbs up. He bites his lower lip, silently giggling to himself. He snaps a picture of you on his phone—the audacity.

Cater mouths back, “looks like someone has a cru-ush.” 

Your face displays all of your confusion. “Stop—shh—be serious, this is real,” you whisper, stifling a tiny, strained giggle and putting an end to the banter by sternly holding out your index finger.

This is too much—too fast—you feel helpless, swept up in the stormy waves of fate and romance. One single day has dragged on and on, as if stretched forever by the overwhelming events of your trip. Even Fellow's unexpected change of heart is but a fleeting part of some fever dream—it couldn’t have all been real. An insane whirlwind romance, a kidnapping, a deadly amusement park, and a desperate con artist—who you’ve become increasingly drawn to. This has been one of the strangest experiences of your entire life.

Glancing quickly over your shoulder, you catch Gidel grinning and bouncing happily, his eyes bright with energy, seemingly thrilled at the idea of you and Fellow becoming partners. His excitement is contagious, and it only adds fuel to the fire in your heart. To know the little boy holds high hopes for the two of you—maybe something is already blooming? Blood pounds in your veins and a tightness builds in your chest, causing your heartbeat to drum ever faster as Fellow takes a step toward you.

He gently turns you to face him. His grip is strong, yet soft. A twinge of hope tugs at the corners of his lips, though his posture betrays his vulnerability and fear of rejection. His interest in you is palpable, and the seriousness of the impending moment makes you want to run away. As hesitant as you are to admit it, you definitely feel a connection to this man—one beyond lust. A deeper bond transcends physical attraction, as if your hearts are bound, stitched with a million red puppet strings of fate. With each pump of blood, another thread pulls taut, drawing the two of you closer together.

You're nervous, embarrassed, and entirely unsure of what you want. In an attempt to stall, you address your remaining classmates. "Well, I sure could use a drink right now! How about it?" Slight panic italicizes your statement.

Ace raises his hands in the air with triumph. "Fuck yeah," he laughs, looking around eagerly. Cater looks relieved to have the perfect excuse to drink a ridiculous amount of booze without getting nagged by Riddle for acting inappropriate. Trey sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a strained manner, as if resisting another stress-related aneurysm. He nods with resignation that he won't be back at Heartslabyul any time soon, committing himself to making sure none of the trouble-making underclassmen get up to their usual antics of havoc, mayhem and chaos. You catch Trey mutter, "I will definitely regret this," to himself, but you still allow a surge of gratitude wash over your anxious heart at his kind gesture.

Lilia's laughter rings out, the night breeze sweeping back his hair to reveal a playful grin. "The Pop Music Club is always down for a fun time. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to show Kalim and Cater how to really party! Oh, what a splendid evening this will be," he gleams, patting his clubmates heartily on the shoulders. They both gulp, nervous about his declaration.

The gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean catches Lilia's irises in a breathtaking display of shimmering crimson. In a flash, he materializes in front of Fellow, nearly scaring the poor fox out of his skin. Lilia's lips are curled in a wide, sly smile and he stares deep into his soul. 

After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, stepping forward and speaking conspiratorially. "But tell me the truth. What really is the score on this entire set-up?" The sinister, terrifying nature Lilia exhibits makes Fellow's ears tremble and tail swish madly in defense, eyes large and alert. Fellow lets out a nervous yelp, frozen as the staring contest commences. After what appears to be some type of mental standoff, the vampire's demeanor eases. 

Lilia puts a comforting arm around Fellow and hugs him to his side, eyes glowing brighter. "Ah, young love! So fun to watch! You two have my blessing," Lilia beams at the stupefied Fellow, whose ears still lay flat against his scalp in terror. His tail is tucked tightly between his legs in an act of submission, a concession of defeat.

With that, your classmates trail out of the boardwalk, away from the ruins of the defunct Amusement Park. Their loud banter fills the night air, a jovial cacophony of nonsense and delirium. Fellow places one hand between Gidel's shoulder blades to gently guide him along, and he extends his other to you, silently inviting you to interlace your fingers with his. His expression is relaxed and expectant—but his eyes show his nerves. His smooth, gloved palm envelops your hand and together, the three of you follow your classmates.

🌟 song: Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 1.8k

The dark streets of the city are lit in an amber glow from the many shops that stay open late, with neon signs boasting special deals and hot food creating a gorgeous rainbow of flashing colors in the night. Bustling crowds move briskly, pouring in from all directions. They mill around, eager to engage in the nightlife of the entertainment district, excited to partake in their desired sins. You follow a group of partygoers through an arching entranceway that has the phrase 'Hell's Den' lit above the metalwork in garish crimson lights. Passing underneath the grand entrance and entering the gaudy exterior is another world of sound, color and light—a vibrancy not meant for the meek. The entirety of the complex is covered with glowing tiles, casting a radiant aura in such a dazzling fashion it reminds you of a place in your home world: Las Vegas.

Welcoming aromas of cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne, and the buzzing, neon atmosphere draws a content sigh from Fellow. The wide array of faces passing by—all of them new and shining with happiness, seeking to escape their own respective realities. There is something inspiring about this bustling den of iniquity. The electricity that percolates within the underground is like a shot of adrenalin. It's pure magic. It is no wonder all of this serves as an irresistible lure for those craving freedom. In this night-city, any sinner can find solace.

As you pass the main foyer of Hell's Den, an enormous set of double doors lies ahead. Three large, burly bouncers loiter at the entrance and peer closely at you all.

"Now what do we have here?" the bouncer booms, zeroing in on Gidel. The bouncer points towards the kid, accusatory. "Ain't he a little young for this joint?"

All heads turn towards Gidel, who stands proud and fearless in the face of these mountainous men. While most everyone else shifts nervously, Gidel plants his little hands on his hips and looks up at the bouncers unabashed, pursing his lips in an indignant pout and giving an extra little sassy bob of his head. He stands his ground with the cold, fierce and commanding presence of someone much older. The way his stance radiates authority, even in the face of danger, is both admirable and comical. The usual slouching and youthfulness of his mannerisms and body language are totally eradicated as the imperious stare he fixes on the bouncers bears down. Gidel is a fearless soldier—a fiercely determined, stalwart pillar in the face of adversity, daring the guards to deny him passage.

"You wound me, good sir," Fellow puts a gloved hand to his heart in a mock sign of hurt. "Of course, he is of drinking age. How insulting!" He levels them with his withering orange gaze. The muscle men shift uneasily at his silent challenge—the cocky facade is his customary tactic for warding off hostilities before they could grow and take root. "This here," he grabs the glowering Gidel, patting the child proudly on the head, "is the eldest of our party." The bouncers look at each other, then at the boy, then back to Fellow. The sheer absurdity of Fellow's statement is undeniable—no reasonable person would buy it.

Fellow goes on. "Cater, are you seeing this shit? Discrimination, in this day and age? Put these nitwits on blast," Fellow gestures to Cater's phone, and Cater begins filming. Gidel points aggressively at the bouncer, shaking his little index finger with the might of his wrath, as Fellow declares loudly, "I want everyone to know—this place is not welcome to those of different social stations, based on age or appearance. This is preposterous!" He turns his attention back to the bouncers, widening his arms to the gathering crowd.

"Bigotry, ageism, it's so awful! No wonder Gidel hides the fact that he's over 2,000 years old. Now I see why the man refuses to share the wisdom he's collected, the amazing anecdotes and experiences, and the undeniable brilliance he could impart upon the world—instead, he hides, ashamed, all due to the abuse he receives on a daily basis from these types of buffoons!" 

The surrounding individuals stare in stunned silence. "It's not Gidel who is the child here, but all of you. People should not be judged so harshly due to their appearance. Everyone should be accepted—their ideas, actions, and experiences embraced with respect, despite physical differences that set them apart. Everyone must be loved and appreciated, for there are precious gems everywhere we look in this beautiful world. The rich, diverse community of people who inhabit this planet should be able to share with all, learn from one another and work together in unity, free to be who they are without harassment!"

The neon light catches fresh tears running down various faces in the crowd. To add further insult to the bouncers’ injuries, Royal Sword Academy's Seven Dwarves—who happened to be waiting to get into the same bar—stare daggers at the gatekeepers and gather near Gidel in solidarity. Their angry, diminutive stature radiates powerful force when unified against a common enemy—it is truly a frightening sight to behold.

In one single swoop, Fellow swings public opinion in Gidel’s favor, inciting rage to right the wrong. The fervor of the crowd continues to rise. "Please, show our precious elder the respect he deserves. Do not look at him and see a mere child—look into his eyes to the aged visage beneath." His orange gaze bores into the guards. "Can you not sense his inner radiance, the power and splendor of his soul, and the treasures locked away within? Don't allow your prejudices and expectations to hold him back. Or you, for that matter. The sheer fact of his youthful appearance is no obstacle to greatness! And as long as you carry this narrow-minded sentiment, you will forever be barred from ever knowing the greatest secrets of the universe. Remember, folks! In the end, it isn't your status, money, or popularity that ultimately leads to a better future! It's our kindness, compassion, and tolerance." The conman punctuates his powerful speech with a satisfied swish of his fluffy tail, and the crowd cheers wildly in approval.

Cater is eating this up. His thumbs frantically type out a lengthy post that ends with his signature sparkling diamond hashtags, creating the most glorious online discourse. 

Trey is lost in thought, muttering to himself, "he does have the right idea, maybe he'd make a good Headmage after all." 

Kalim stares intently, with a faraway gleam in his eye, utterly entranced by Fellow. He’s just about ready to sign up for a personal tutoring session on the topic of the Universal Principles. 

The rest of your classmates have the most deadpan expression on their faces, looking at each other and silently communicating how deeply uninterested they all are at witnessing this bizarre, disturbing spectacle for the umpteenth time.

The guards can’t hide their bewilderment, and they reluctantly backpedal to let your group inside. You and Cater share a mischievous smile, impressed at Fellow's antics. 

Your devious fox pulls you flush to his body, ushering you into the club with a sly wink. "Shall we, dearest Y/n? Let’s make our debut, hmm?" He smirks in the direction of his brother as he spins you around, all while moving backwards into the bar. He bows deeply and gestures elegantly, indicating you should head inside first. You can't help giggling, covering your mouth to conceal the toothy grin that betrays your giddiness as you make your way inside. His eyes travel up and down your frame, marveling at your swaying hips, devouring every curve. His suggestive tongue wets his bottom lip before he bites it, fangs now visible. You're almost ashamed of how attracted you are to him.

Your classmates follow like ducklings trailing a parent, curious to see where the night will take them and if any of it will be blackmail-worthy. How amusing. They muffle laughter at Fellow's narcissistic flamboyance and over-exaggerated antics, taking note of every ridiculous attempt to woo you. A few pretend to gag, exchanging distressed, strained expressions—a theatrical attempt to shove down the raw, unbridled horror they feel at the thought of having to live through another performance of the clown show.

You're not even sure if he wears a persona—a true entertainer, for the thrill of it all—or if he's trying on sincerity for once. You suspect he's a walking caricature of his own making. Even so, the raw energy and manicured showmanship are alluring. His penchant for high-pitched laughter and dramatized emotion adds levity to an otherwise dark situation—something about it really tickles you. His potentially-feigned amusement lights up his impossibly expressive face in a manner that is genuinely contagious.

Slowly taking in your surroundings, your mouth falls slightly open. This was no ordinary dive bar—this was a full on club. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, dispersing kaleidoscopic beams of color and light throughout the space. The rhythm throbs, perfectly synced with the strobe—each flash of luminescence reveals a slightly new scene. Sweaty bodies bend and sway to the thumping, seductive beat—you’re so ready to join them. Every face around you morphs into carefree bliss. From behind you, Fellow's presence is electrifying, playfully tracing his fingertips across the curve of your lower back as he leads you to the bar. His hand lightly smacks your ass, as if in approval, and your face warms. The effervescent air and residual excitement of escaping death creates an aphrodisiac unlike anything you’ve experienced. The pulsing bass, Fellow's slightly-territorial hand on your hip, and his sensual gaze makes your heart thump erratically. An aching want—no, need—simmers beneath your skin.

"May I get you a drink?" 

Fellow's soft words pull you from your daze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes appraises your dilated pupils. His toothy grin widens. 

"You prefer sweet, don’t you? I know just the thing." 

He studies you lasciviously. 

"Freshly-squeezed juices and top shelf liqueurs always do the trick. I just love the taste of cherries." 

He brings his hand up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers hovering over the shell of your ear before landing around a stray tendril of hair. He twirls the silky strand between his gloved fingers and tucks it gently behind your ear. Tantalizing.

"Yes, please. That sounds delicious."

You giggle nervously, unable to break eye contact. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were—the bottom pout most inviting. You hope he doesn't notice you gulp.

Somehow, the man's smile grows even bigger. He takes your hand in his, clasping it tightly and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft, chaste kiss. 

"Wait right here for me, won't you, my dear? I'll be back in a heartbeat." 

With a spin, he dances his way through the crowd towards the bartender, expertly navigating the chaos. You stand there dumbfounded, unable to keep the affection from blossoming in your chest; full, red, and so tight that you're afraid it might burst.

Hi, it's me again. Erica. The girl who said "my goal for 2024 is to spend the whole year writing!" Yeah. Sorry about that. Turns out that life sucks and writing is hard. I'm doing my best out here, though. I hope y'all enjoy this one! This shit really makes me laugh, so I hope you laughed too. If you want to create any art based on a scene from this, PLEASE do. I've already started working on chapter 3. I hope it won't take me forever to finish this story but, I'm really just taking my time with it. By "it" I mean, you know, getting to the whole point of this request, which is where Fellow Honest drunkenly confesses to you. But as you can see, we are going on a whole journey, here. I hope you love it! That's why I'm calling it a slice of life. I hope I get to talk to you all again really soon, in my next writing, which I hope... will be... soon. Love you all dearly, ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome. P.S. I'll be at Anime Expo at the beginning of July. Come say hi!

[xxsugarbonesxx]

Librarian Miguel x Flower Shop Owner

tags: tooth rotting amounts of fluff and some suggestive bits. No one is spider man in this AU, mainly just character set up stuff :3 and no gender is specified for reader any1 can read it

hopefully this will be me getting back into writing since i took a break from it lol (this was done in 30-40 minutes at 2am so sorry if it isnt too high quality) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

In the little rural town of Nueva, there was a library, it was owned and operated by the single hottest man in town, and probably the whole state, Miguel O’Hara. 

Miguel O’Hara was a simple man really, he ironed his clothes, did sudoku on the train and ate a bagel with light cream cheese, an assortment of raspberries, blackberries and blueberries every morning every day for breakfast. 

He took his coffee dark with the littlest splash of cream and one sugar cube. Two sugar cubes would be just reckless. Coffee could be substituted with Camellia flower tea when he was out of coffee, peppermint for when he had a migraine.

All the women in town would sing his praises to another. Little was known about him besides that after the death of his daughter he moved to Nueva and opened his library. In front of his library was a small community garden and a bench dedicated to his dear daughter by the double doors. 

No one brought it up, no one asked, and he liked it that way. He liked the simplicity of Nueva. The air was cleaner, the people there warmer and the ringing in his ears seemingly disappeared when he moved there. 

He liked to keep his library neat and tidy, he had plenty of rules set in place to follow…children's books in the front and adult books in the back. The spicer content was shelved by the cook books so no kids found them. You are to only use the various lamps in the library, never the big light. It totally ruined the cozy atmosphere he had set up. 

Jazz, Frank Sinatra, and Selena Quintanilla was the only music allowed to be played, he didn’t like any other types of music. Coffee was free as long as you returned your mug to the table his coffee maker was on once you were done. No talking louder than a whisper, and only pet the library cat if you had all your shots. That was mostly a joke, but Miguel didn’t want people who weren’t up to date on their immunizations touching his cat.

It was almost closing time, and there were only a few people left. The familiar cast of characters Miguel had come to know now wandering the maze of shelves. Ben Riley was using one of the community monitors. Sending emails back and forth to his girlfriend in Canada. Only god knew if she was real or not.

When Miguel asked why Ben just bought his own laptop or computer to converse with his girlfriend, Ben explained he didn’t want to go through the trouble of setting up a laptop when he could just walk to the library to use one for free.

Miguel couldn’t help but hold back the fattest eye roll known to man when he heard that.

Peter Parker was looking for cookbooks for the dinner he was gonna make to win his ex wife back. Stressing over the perfect dish to make as young Mayday Parker debated whether she wanted to check out GoodNight Moon or Skippyjon Jones for her bedtime story tonight.

Then there was Pavitr Prabhakar and Gayatri Singh. Debatably his most adorable regulars. Miguel would watch the two teenagers stumble through their awkward study dates, he couldn't help but feel the littlest bit proud of Pav when he finally worked up the courage and kissed her. 

But his favorite, hands down, was you. You owned the little flower shop across the street from his library next to the bakery. On the opening, you had brought him a bunch of sunflowers tied with a pearl white ribbon as a gift. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he was actually allergic to sunflowers and graciously took the generous gift with a stuffy nose and kind smile.

You would come waltzing in, batting your eyelashes like you were auditioning for a mascara commercial. At first he had no interest in romance, but you were just so…kind, caring, loving, compassionate. You were so slow and soft spoken, giving him the space he needed while he grieved and was there afterwards to hug him and dry his tears. 

At the beginning, you’d only stop by and help him in the library or check out a novel or two, but as you became a frequent visitor, you stopped coming just to help him…and started coming just to see him.

He remembered how one day, you had arrived at the library as usual. A perplexed look on your darling face with your hands behind your back. You had spent all of the night before carefully crafting a special bouquet of lilies and tulips. Making sure there wasn't anything in it he was allergic to.

After dancing around the subject, you had slowly confessed her feelings to him. 

The next hour was spent in the back room of the library. Feverishly groping another and kissing frantically, your glasses kept sliding against each other’s as you both ran to rip each other's clothes off another's bodies.

Miguel was still that simple man he was all those years ago when he moved to the sleepy town of Nueva. The idea of building a real relationship with someone scared him from how many times he'd been hurt in the past and the fresh wounds from the death of his child.

But now he has you. He has someone to come home to besides the empty walls of his little cottage home. He has a significant other to fill that void and to lift him up, someone to be his lock screen picture.

Someone to tell all the things he’s learned from the regulars at the library. He told you about Ben getting catfished, Peter winning MJ over with homemade ratatouille and a promise, about Pav and Gayatri’s kiss while the both of you snuggled up on the couch over a bottle of strawberry wine.

You'd both started the relationship a little rocky, not knowing whether this was right with the things Miguel was working through then. But it soon proved to be the best decision either of you could have made. 

He had your wedding picture next to Gabriela's school picture day portrait on his desk. 

His favorite parts of his day were when you’d walk from your shop to the library on your lunch break to eat together, and in the evenings when he'd read the book you were currently reading out loud to you, before going to sleep together. 

He was still that simple man, but now he’d share his bagels with you. He’d offer to iron your clothes for you, and even when you didn’t understand, he showed you how to play sudoku on the long train rides. Even though you were just nodding along to hear him talk about something he enjoyed.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — your facetime calls with nagi always have you wishing he’d come home sooner.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! fluff, all characters written 22+, nagi is written as a pro player, hes overseas for an away game, cute facetime calls. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! this idea was v much stuck in my head so i had to sob, he’s the best <3

“seishiro, what’re you looking at?” your voice is soft as you watch your boyfriend nagi jostle slightly on your phone screen, grumbling before he’s smooshing his cheek against his forearm where they fold on the desk infront of him. its morning where you are although the suns long set where he is — you can tell by the hues of the sky behind him, but he still blinks up at you like he’s staring at the moon.

“nothing.” he tries to play off the fact that he’s just been memorising, missing your features over your facetime call despite the way his voice seems to fade into something dreamier at the end as he gives you a drowsy blink and a pout. his sleepy gaze moves softly from corner to corner of his screen and he seems to soften with his next breath, he’s looking at you.

“you’re staring.”

“am not.” nagi replies again as he sighs and you watch the way his back moves under the fabric of his hoodie as he shifts — snowy bangs falling over his features and the urge to reach forward and brush them from his gaze like you normally would has your heart squeezing a little.

you let the silence hang in the place where you both take a breath as you lean back against your pillow, grabbing your phone to prop it up on the plushie that your boyfriend made sure to buy you to keep you company — even though he assured you you’d have choki incase you needed someone to talk to while he was gone. you watch his head fall to the side slightly and it makes you giggle at the way he’s still so committed to calling you despite how tired he is.

“seishiro..” you drawl and you don’t miss the way nagi’s eyes seem to flutter closed at the smooth call of his name, like a lullaby that he’s longed to hear. you’re well aware he misses you as much as you miss him.

“are you asleep?” your words are a whisper, soft enough not to startle the sleepy striker but still enough to make him grumble as he peeks up at you through his messy bangs.

“nah, ‘m awake. not being with you is such a pain though.” nagi’s voice is lower this time, slightly buried into his sleeve before he’s pushing himself back in his chair to stretch — grumbling as he reaches under the hem of his hoodie to scratch at his stomach. your eyes follow his movements and he picks up on it as his brows raise, head tilting to the side as he lets out a little yawn that makes you laugh softly.

“how’s practice? you better not be slacking off because i’m not there to watch.” you tease as you watch the drowsiness creep onto your boyfriends naturally soft features, his lips resting into another tight lipped pout as he pinches at the hair that rests across the bridge of his nose.

“eh, i just wanna be done already. then i can come back home and play games again.”

“you can play games there though.”

“eh, but it’s no fun without you now, ‘ts a bother.” his words are meant literally but they make you giggle, you always loved how straight forward he was despite the way that he still liked sneaking in glances towards you like he was afraid you’d catch him. but you think nagi seishiro looks his brightest under the moon, and he thinks you look your prettiest when you’re caught somewhere between a smile and a laugh.

“you’ll be home soon though.” the smile on your face is maintained as you relax again and you watch the way he fiddles with the drawstrings of his sweats as he tries to busy his hands — too used to tapping away at the screen of his phone but he still gives you his full attention everytime you speak. he flicks his eyes between the sky outside and the phone screen and you think you prefer the way the sky looks through his canvas of grey as you watch him.

“yeah but the flights so bothersome, want you here now.” nagi settles in his seat before he breathes and it’s like his sort of love is woven into the silence, because he never had to say much to remind you that he loved you.

“one more week, i’ll even buy you lemon tea.” he seems to perk up at that as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and you tilt your head to the side when he shrugs a few moments later.

“but that makes me wanna leave and come home now.” you know this isn’t a conversation you can win when it comes to nagi, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the quiet of your mornings with him with your sheets pulled up to your chin and his face resting in your neck. you look around your jostled sheets, a bed made for two that’s only occupied by one right now before you’re looking back at him and you smile when you realise he’s staring again, and suddenly the start of your day is already easy despite the missing piece.

“you should sleep, sei. i don’t wanna get you in trouble when you have dark circles on tv.” your words make him hum at first before he’s back to resting over his table with folded arms, his sleepy state evident on his features and you swear he stifles a yawn before he speaks.

“eh, but i don’t wanna go yet.. ‘m not even tired.” you think it’s charming the way nagi seems to try to fake being any sort of rested, his tone shifting into something a little faster than his usual drawl as he gives you a wide-eyed blink, like he’s trying to convince you to stay with him, just for a while.

“sei.” but you see right through him and with that he huffs before he’s letting his eyes rest closed once more, like a little sign of defeat despite the way he still makes you soften.

“no fair, jus’ wanna talk to you a lil while longer, jus’ til i fall asleep, please.” nagi drawls, a little lighter and whinier than his usual lower tone that’s almost like a sleepy plea. but when it’s accompanied by a slow drowsy blink as he gazes up at you— you know you can’t say no anyway.

“fine.. just ‘til you fall asleep.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[papiliotao]

・❥・DICTIONARY OF LOVE

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Ayaka, Kazuha, Tartaglia, Wanderer (Scaramouche), Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: love through their eyes.

♡ — Content: fluff, very very light angst(?)

♡ — Warnings: spoilers for some characters' backstories

♡ — A/N: honestly, I'm kind of proud of the fact that I was able to keep each part relatively concise. Also, one of these parts is just me being down bad for one of the characters (I'll leave who it is to your imagination hehe). Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy the fic!!

To ALBEDO, love means patience. He's well aware that he's not the most energetic or expressive person. There are moments where his social battery is low, and he needs to immerse himself in his own world more than anything. Whenever this happens, you sit in the snowy landscape of Dragonspine, watching Albedo as he drags a brush across a canvas, causing inky strokes to bleed across the intricate composition. You wait in silence, intently peering at him, observing every movement of his arm and flick of his wrist. The frigid air stings your cheeks, but Albedo's presence is enough to cease the chills that threaten to wrack your body. Once he finishes, he turns to you and smiles softly. Albedo thanks you for waiting for him. Your understanding means the world to him, and despite the fact that you insist you need nothing in return, he still feels the need to reimburse you by taking you back to his camp in Dragonspine where he cuddles you until you feel warm again.

To AYAKA, love means acceptance. After long days of being surrounded by people who idolize her instead of seeing her as a friend, your presence makes her feel like a human being instead of some faultless goddess. Although she appreciates the individuals who think highly of her, she loves how spending time with you feels so easy in comparison. With you, she has no image to maintain. Formalities and etiquette are thrown out the window when she is with the one she adores. Despite the fact that you know she's not a perfect person, you're still hers, and that makes her feel secure. You're special to her because you accept all her flaws instead of ignoring them, yet you love her nonetheless.

To KAZUHA, love means tranquility. After all the storms he has encountered in his lifetime, he needs someone who can help him calm the raging tempests in his heart, and that someone is you. Peace — it's a feeling reminiscent of the serenity that courses through his veins when he basks in the last ephemeral rays of sunlight with you by his side. It’s a sentiment that is evoked by the gentle lapping of waves on sand as the two of you walk along a pristine shoreline, hand-in-hand as the sun sinks below the horizon. And most importantly of all, it's found in the sense of stillness that settles over him each night as he falls asleep with you in his arms. The moon acts as a witness to your love, curiously glancing down at the two of you as Kazuha holds you close and whispers sweet nothings into your ear until you drift off into slumber. When he is finally left alone with his thoughts, Kazuha wistfully gazes overhead and thanks every star in his sight for leading him to you.

To TARTAGLIA, love means war. He is a fighter by nature, so needless to say, he will fight as many battles as it takes to protect you. He knows it's not easy nor safe being romantically involved with one of the Fatui Harbingers. Numerous foes have tried to take you hostage and use you as leverage against him. However, Tartaglia is always there to protect you whenever his enemies try to strike from the shadows. His love for you and his contempt for those who attempt to hurt you fuel a fiery rage that urges him to show no mercy. By the time he is finished with them, he is certain that they will never try to harm you again. In Tartaglia's eyes, loving you is like fighting a war, and although the prospect is unappealing to many, Tartaglia is different. The thrill of battle fills him with adrenaline, and at the end of the day, he finds that it is all worth it because you're still by his side.

To the WANDERER, love means eternity. It is a concept he is all too familiar with — after all, the deity who embodies the principle is the one who created him just to cast him aside, initiating the first of several betrayals to come. All the fleeting moments of warmth he has experienced in his lifetime have left him raring for more, but no one ever quite quenches his thirst for intimacy before they abandon him. He wants something lasting, but he's too afraid to voice his desires due to the dubious thoughts that riddle his mind. If the God of Eternity’s affection for him was as transient as the vibrant maple leaves that adorned his birthplace, then who would ever be willing to love him indefinitely? His burning questions are all answered when he meets you. You are able to look past his harsh exterior and see him for who he truly is: someone afraid of the impermanence of tenderness, so when you finally confess your true feelings to him, you make it clear that you plan on staying by his side forevermore. When you make your vow to the Wanderer, he feels a gentle heartbeat thrumming to life in his once-empty chest. Perhaps this time, eternity will last forever.

To XIAO, love means subtlety. It is difficult for Xiao to verbally convey his admiration for you, so instead of expressing his infatuation in a straightforward manner, it is instead a sentiment he administers through lingering touches and shy acts of service. His love is quiet. Subdued, yet passionate all the same, and he will forever be grateful that you never fail to pick up on what he is discreetly trying to say to you. A heartfelt "I love you" is hidden in every small moment, no matter how insignificant it seems. And the way you reciprocate his gestures by preparing his favourite dish, shyly taking his hand while you're sitting together on Wangshu Inn's roof, and inspecting his body for any injuries in what you think is an inconspicuous manner makes his heart race time and time again. To Xiao, love is not something that needs to be in-your-face; it is found when you read between the lines.

Au revoir, mes amis. Also, all of these were supposed to be wholesome, and then Childe came along, and I just said VIOLENCE. I wonder if anyone can tell which one of these characters is my favourite. (Any guesses? /hj)

[ajortga]

i'm not coming home.

pairing: vada cavell x fem reader

warning! sensitive topics ahead include: character death, suicide, overdose, massive angst with NO happy ending.

thank you egg for your request! cried a little making this which usually.. isn't quite normal to happen. hope this might make your angst heart pour a little.. p.s this was partially inspired by some other fics i read that i loved and this was particularly based off the lyrics im not coming home, not really my future:o

-

I just saw that song fic you made, it was very nice. So I’d like to request one of my own…

My future by Billie Eilish?

Obviously for my favorite girl Vada Cavell. Who else would I request for?

-

Her eyes looked at the moon, Vada’s brown eyes looking at the way the moon shone across the city.

“The moon is pretty, isn’t it?” A voice said beside her.

Vada's eyes glanced at you, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Yeah. But you were always prettier.”

“You used to say that a lot.”

“I know. It’s because I think it’s true.”

You stood there in silence, Vada scooted closer to you, pointing at the flowers right ahead of you guys.

“Do you remember when we planted those?”

“Yeah, they grew so pretty. We wanted to make a whole flower garden together.”

“The garden is growing I think.”

“I think so too.

Silence once again, the only sound was the dark trees rustling in the blue moonlight, stars above the two’s heads. Vada bit her lip, looking at the stars, her knees tucked under her arms.

“Do you think in another universe, we’d be in love?” You whispered, catching her off guard as she looked at you, seeing the way your eyes looked hurt.

Vada shrugged, thinking for a moment, “I don’t know..”

Another pause.

“Maybe in another universe, I never so badly wished it was this one though.”

She heard a small laugh, hurt laced behind it, “It once was.”

“In this universe we’re not. Because you’re no longer here.”

…

“I know.”

Vada wishes she could take those words back. 

-

Vada needed space to herself after trying to heal from traumatic experiences it was so hard for her to deal with. You were just trying to help.

You were just trying to help.

Offering to hold her hand in the hallways, reassuring back rubs, kisses on the forehead, sticking by her side.

It was too much for her. She just wanted to be left alone, but she didn’t want to tell you.

You just were so worried, you made sure to love her.

The day Vada was the most stressed, she took all her anger out on you for just trying to comfort her.

“Can you stop being arrogant for once and get it into your brain that you need to leave me alone? You have to let me go and it’s getting so frustrating you can’t get that into your system! Just give me my space when I need it!”

Vada’s voice echoes through the house, her eyes looked enraged as she saw the way your figure looked so small.

“Okay.”

That was the last word she heard you say before you left the apartment to just.. Process.

Vada felt bad, seeing the way your shoulders dropped as you walked out the door. But she was just so frustrated with all these events she couldn't bring herself to apologize. She was too tired.

-

Ding

...

Ding

....

Ding ding ding ding ding

"Oh my god.." Vada groaned tiredly, her phone light almost lighting up the whole room as she rubbed her eyes, stirring from bed.

Who the hell would be notifying her at 2:43 AM?

Her hands flipped her phone over as she looked at the messages, the way her eyes widened was indescribable.

my sweet y/n♡: vada they won't go away.

my sweet y/n♡: i'm so scared.

my sweet y/n♡: it won't stop, vada it won't stop.

my sweet y/n♡: i can't breathe

my sweet y/n♡: i just want it to stop.

my sweet y/n♡: baby please i need you. i don't feel good.

4x call missed

my sweet y/n♡: i'm sorry.

my sweet y/n♡: i love you.

my sweet y/n♡: i love you with my whole heart and i promise that you can finally be left alone like you wanted.

"No! No no no no no!.." She said louder to herself, immediately jumping off the bed and hitting the call button. No response.

"Please just pick up!"

She grabbed her keys and slammed the door shut, immediately going to your house with an inhaler and meds.

She kept ringing and ringing as she heard you pick up, immediately putting the phone to her ear.

"Baby! Baby.. Talk to me. Talk to me please."

"...Vada.." you cry, your voice barely a whisper, "It hurts."

"What did you do? Y/N.. Tell me please, what did you do? Did you take something bad?"

"I just.. I..."

Vada hears you breathing heavily, making small hurtful breaths.

"I just wanted everything to stop... I'm so tired.."

"I'm almost there baby.."

Vada makes a full on swerve as she busts out of her car, hearing the way your labored breaths were gradually beginning to grow shakier. The call ends as she makes a plead of frustration. She grabs the keys she snagged when she left the house and frantically unlocked your door.

"Y/N!" she cries, the house was dark as she turned every corner before rushing into your room, barging in.

There you were, curled up on the ground, your arm over your stomach as she saw the way your chest shook, the way you let out cries. There were pills scattered around you, your hand holding a pill bottle that was almost half empty. Vada screamed as she immediately knelt down as you turned.

"Baby, Y/N, wake up!" She cried, shaking you

You were barely able to make a noise, she could only hear you say her name, your voice barely an audible whisper with tear-stained cheeks and glazed over eyes.

Vada let out a painful cry as her hand reached up to caress your now cold skin. You were shaking as Vada picked you up and cradled you, calling the 3 numbers as quickly as she could, begging for the ambulance to come as quickly as they could.

"Everything is going to be okay. Don't close your eyes sweetheart. I promise you'll be okay.."

You curled your body into hers, your head drooping down as you look at her, your vision unfocused.

Oh how your eyes were the ones she loved so much, the ones she loved so much now looking like this. Lifeless, barely hanging on.

"I'm so sorry. Vada's so sorry baby. I should have never said those mean things to you. You mean the w-world to me. I love you so much," The guilt was stirring in her stomach, unlike anything she's seen before.

You whimper against her, "I-I d-don't feel good... I-I feel s-so c-cold.."

Vada sobbed as she wrapped a blanket around your shaking, fragile body, hugging you tightly.

"I'm here. Help is coming," she whispered, looking down at you, fallen tears beginning to drop on your clothes.

Your eyelids were half-open, Vada's voice was beginning to become muffled. You knew Vada was beyond worried, you just wanted everything to stop for a while.. You also knew deep down, you wouldn't be able to make it. You wouldn't be able to make it out alive. You wouldn't be able to spend the rest of your life and marry Vada. Maybe live in the green meadows like you always dreamed of, cuddling as you watched the stars at night. Maybe have had a cat too and looked like the romantic sweethearts everyone envied of, sharing small gentle kisses in the corners of every place you traveled.

You knew you couldn't be with her till her last breath, but you knew she would be with you till yours.

You knew you wouldn't be able to live your love, so you mustered all the left-over strength you still had and croaked out the 3 little words.

"I love you."

You felt it. Vada did too. The way your eyes glassed over, it was no longer the warm, pretty eyes she adored, they were now foggy and dark. The way your body began to lose it's warm comfort that Vada ever so loved feeling when she cuddled you to bed. It was all fading. And she knew your life was fading too.

Vada cried, she didn't want to loose you. She was sobbing and she couldn't do anything about it, she was so so scared.

"I love you too. I love you so fucking much Y/N. I.. I.." She didn't know what else to say, she was so scared that she couldn't speak anymore, wailing.

You gave her the weakest smile you could muster, though she knew that it wasn't the smile you gave her when your eyes would light up as soon as you saw her, it was the smile that you finally understood.

You understood. The cracking smile that showed you were ready.

"That's all my heart can ever ask for. I-I'll be there with you, as a pretty deer in the moonlight, or the shiniest star. I-I'll be there whenever y-you need me.. It was never your fault.." You whispered, before she could see your eyes go still, your shaking body beginning to slow. The last teardrop that would ever fall go down your cheek.

"No! Open your eyes Y/N! Baby! Please! I'm here! You can open your eyes now! Wake up!"

Vada didn't know love could make her cry this hard as she felt your skin turn cold, she wished she could just take it all back. She'd remember you through every memory. But she'd remember that the memories of the person she loved most would never exist in the future. It was all in the past. She knew that you were gone as she cried into the wind. The ambulance was just too late as they saw her hugging your soulless body, never wanting to let go.

"Vada's so sorry.." She cries in a whisper.

-

Vada felt herself sniffle, she could feel the way her memories invaded her brain. She could never forgive herself for it. On every shooting star she wished that it could've never happened in the first place.

She then noticed the way she felt her cheeks suddenly stain with tears, seeing your pretty body fade away in the moonlight above. Seeing the way that you bit down a hurtful expression, smiling with a cracked heart as she sniffled. The night sky is now beginning to reflect through you. 

It was all her fault. She couldn’t bear to hear it. But she knew now that you weren’t going to come home. You never would.

She knew one day you would fade from her mind completely. She couldn’t bear to know that one day, she’d forget the way you sounded.  She knew that one day, your ghost would eventually fade away, your faded presence beginning to slow as time healed. There would be a day that your ghost would stop showing up completely.

She knew that one day, all your memories would turn into months, years, decades.

Until it’ll all be too old for her to remember. To remember you and the way you were the first person Vada felt her stomach tingle with fluttering butterflies as you kissed her so gently. To remember the way you would hold your umbrella for her as it poured rain, seeing the way your forehead would drip with water from protecting her before you could shelter yourself.

"Keep our love special okay? Keep it just between us. Keep it in your heart." You whispered, before you faded away, knowing one day you'll appear once again.

Vada nodded, slowly, she still can't believe she isn't over it. How could she be?

Her hair was wet, she was so used to feeling a hood over her head. She was so used to being protected by you. Rain drenched her clothes as her body shook, staring at the way the city lights dimmed below her. 

She knew that you weren’t going to come home.

Because there she was, sitting on a wet patch of grass, drenched in the rain. Knowing that once before, you sat with her in the rain, holding an umbrella over her head as you hugged her, cuddling for warmth. 

Vada let out a shaky, broken sigh as she looked up, seeing the way the stars shone. One shone so bright as she smiled. Her star.

From the wind blowing so gently in her hair with rain showering across the city, the deer peeked behind the tree, making a soft noise.

"Every night and day I wish I could feel your cuddles, kiss me and tell me it was all a nightmare, but it's been too long to know it's not just stupid nightmare. I miss you more than words can possibly describe."

Vada rubbed her cheeks, wiping the tears that were falling, feeling the rain drizzle with her sadness, making a quiet cry.

"It's been 5 months Y/N. I love you. I wish you were here with me. "

Maybe you wouldn't be with Vada till her last breath, maybe her grieving wouldn't last that long. But she was there for yours, that's all you could ever ask for. Your girlfriend hugging you as you took your last breath. That was special.

[actiniumwrites]

(scenario, if it’s alright ?) diluc and kaeya with an s/o singing them to sleep :’0 or just softly singing to them for comfort/in general (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) i’ve been listening to rises the moon by liana flores n i can’t help but imagine how soothing n healing it must be for their s/o to sing to them that way hhngghfnsdjnxjsn . . . their chest would swell in affection and look at them with hearts in their eyes while s/o sweetly holds them in their arms n stroke their hair tenderly . . . (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♡

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

synopsis: in which you sing your restless lover to sleep

characters: kaeya, diluc x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, nightmares, vague mentioning of diluc’s past, i accidentally made diluc’s kinda angsty (sorry)

notes: anon, this is so cute!! i used to be obsessed with rises the moon for such a long time, coincidentally i would also use it to fall asleep sometimes. thank you for the request!

Kaeya:

It was close to two in the morning when you awoke from your sleep suddenly. The room around you was cold and silent, haunted by the evening shadows that enveloped everything around it aside from the gentle candlelight that flickered from the other side of the room.

You laid back down for a few moments, falling aimlessly against the warm sheets below you. Your eyes focused on the white ceiling above you as they shifted between squinting and widening to adjust from just previously being asleep. A quiet sigh fell from your lips as you relaxed for a moment. Instinctively, your hand inched toward the other side of the bed where your boyfriend normally slept. When all you could feel was the cold sheets where he should have been laying, your eyes snapped back open.

Somehow, you hadn’t even noticed his presence had not existed within your bed, but was instead sat in a chair at the desk tirelessly scribbling away at a piece of paper. Originally, you had just assumed the flicker of the candle was due to carelessness on your part. That, perhaps, you had just forgotten to put it out before allowing yourself to fall into a warm slumber for the night. But alas, that was not the case.

Sitting upright, you hung your feet over the bed. You shivered at the touch of the freezing wooden floors when you arose from your spot. Wrapping your hands around your waist in a desperate attempt to keep warm, you quietly walked toward the desk where he was sitting.

You stopped right before him, tenderly placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to peer at what he had been writing. He hardly gave a reaction, but didn’t stop you from gently massaging his shoulders.

“Kaeya,” you softly murmured, not wanting to disturb the silence of the night. His hand rushed to finish one final sentence before he placed the pen against the desk where it should have been the entire time.

“I’m done. I swear,” he assured you, turning around as he stood up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he pulled you closer to him. Resting your head against his shoulder, you begun to sway back and forth with him.

After a few more wordless seconds together, you pulled back from him but kept his hands in yours, “Come to bed…please.”

Sleep seemed to have been evading Kaeya for the past two weeks. You were well aware it was because of his upcoming expedition and all the hard work and preparation that came alongside it, but that didn’t mean you could excuse the way he was neglecting his health.

He nodded silently, giving into you just as he always did.

When you got into bed, you tucked the covers over the both of you. Scooting closer to him, you propped your arm up a bit so you could lean over him. Brushing his hair softly with your fingers, you whispered to him, “Are you having a hard time sleeping again?”

Kaeya mumbled something softly as he nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, “Sing to me? Please?”

A tender smile pulled at your lips and a hushed laugh escaped you, “Of course.”

And so, you quietly began to sing him his favorite song. Your voice was quiet and soft, and it was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard in his entire life. It didn’t overtake the rustling of the trees outside the window or the calm crackling of the wick candle you had decided to let burn a little while longer. It had only taken a minute or two before Kaeya had entered a peaceful sleep. Thanks to you, it was the first one he had gotten in weeks.

And when his breath evened and his eyes were firmly shut, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Sleep well, love.”

Diluc:

It was the middle of the night when you awoke suddenly, a feeling as though something was wrong shook within your chest. The soft pitter patter of rain made its way to your ears as you glanced at the window next to your side of the bed, thunder following suit in big booms. You almost shook the feeling off all together had it not been for the bright flash of lightning revealing your boyfriend sitting upright in bed, head within his hands.

The room had been so dark, and with the thunder and rain occupying what normally was filled with silence, you hadn’t even noticed him.

“Diluc?” you called out to him hesitantly, not used to him being up at such hours of the night. Not unless he was off doing work as the Dark Knight. When your hand made contact with his shoulder that was left bare by the white tank top he had worn to bed, he jolted softly away from your touch. You pulled your hand away instantly, like you had just been burned.

There was a moment where anxiousness began to boil in your stomach, whispering that you had done something to hurt him. Your eyes darted across his form as they began to adjust to the darkness of the room, starting to give into those worries. Maybe you had said something wrong at dinner? Or maybe he finally had gotten sick of you like you always worried he would?

A gentle sob stole you right from out of your mind before you began spiraling yourself, placing your attention back on him. It was a small action, but one that made you realize just how absurd those possibilities were. Diluc loved you, and had reassured you countless times there was nothing you could do to change that. You felt your heart ache when another sob left his mouth. Instantly, you moved closer to him, placing your hand against his back to rub gentle circles against it. “I’m here, okay? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered softly, careful to not make things worse, especially when you were unaware of what was going on with him.

Finally, his head raised from his hands and his big ruby eyes met yours, a pool of tears filled within them. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before he just shook his head and fell into your open arms, head against your shoulder and arms slung lazily around your waist. His sobs were barely audible over the rain as he mumbled things about his father, Kaeya, and all the trauma he had built up over the years against your chest. Finally things clicked.

You stared down at him with knowing eyes, a pitiful but comforting look within them. It wasn’t often that nights like those would occur, but they did happen nonetheless. It had been so long since the last one that you forgot about them all together.

He’d told you about them when you first began dating, but it was not a subject Diluc often enjoyed conversing about. Honoring his wishes, you opted to never bring it up unless he did first. His mind would plague itself with nightmares filled with horrid details from the darkest depths of his memories. So dark that he’d wake up in a cold sweat, eyes welled with hot tears, and unable to control his spiral of emotions. The only thing that could reassure him on those nights was you. You were the only thing keeping him from crumbling in on himself from how much he had held in his pain over the years.

Keeping him within your arms, you gently laid backwards until you were leaned up against the frame of the bed you both shared. Diluc shut his eyes tightly, a frown grew deep across his features. An expression you hated to see painted on his face, too beautiful to be tortured by such treacherous emotions.

“Please,” he mumbled out so quietly you almost missed it, “sing to me.”

You nodded with a gentle hum, running your fingers through his hair as you shut your own eyes. A soft melody left your mouth, a song that was well known across Mondstadt that you knew he loved. You didn’t sing loudly at all, but somehow it was enough for Diluc to drown out the sound of the rain and the painful memories flowing within his mind.

Eventually, his arms grew limp around your waist and his breath evened out. Peacefulness took hold of the features that the frown once desperately clung to. The tune that echoes from your mouth sung him carefully to sleep.

You slumped down into the bed next to him, eyes blinking a few times before they shut for the night. And before you could fall asleep, you hugged him tighter, reassuring him of your presence, even in his sleep. Nothing could ever hurt him, not for as long as you were there to protect him.

[ja3hwa]

Hey!!!! First of all, I’d like to say that you are probably one of my favorite fic writers out here and I’m always so excited to read your fics! I would like to submit something for the sleepover party (it’s my first time so I hope I’m doing this right). I wanted to ask for a Yunho or Wooyoung (you pick) x reader where they’re watching her favorite movie, like Romeo and Juliet or Pirates of the Caribbean, and the reader is so entranced she’s mouthing all the lines. The Ateez member notice, and it turns him on, like a lot, to see her so passionate about the movie. Right before the characters kiss on screen, he quotes the lines back to her, to her surprise, (he learnt it just for this), and then kisses her, and the two start having passionate sex…. Is that okay? Or is this too complicated? If it is, Dw!!! (Sorry I wrote so much 😅)

Thank youu baby, for the send, hehe. I'm gonna be honest with you i haven't seen pirates of the Caribbean, but i have seen a few different types of Romeo and juliet plays. But I've never watched the films of it, ahhah. Also, i picked Yuyu cause I'm down bad for actor yunho ahah

But let's imagine...

Yunho is leaning back along the couch his left arm draped over the cushions, and the other resting on your lower back drawing shapes lightly on your exposed skin. His legs were spread wide, his thigh leaning snugly against your crossed legs. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you watched your favorite version of Romeo and Juliet for what seems like the millionth time.

This was only Yunho's second time watching it—well as fair as you knew—. He had secretly watched a few scenes over and over to remember the lines. Specifically, the love confession. He knew how much of a romantic you were, so when you asked to watch it, he was thrilled to watch it with you so he could put his plan into action.

His eyes were stuck on you, watching the way you smiled or how you mouthed the words softly. Your eyebrows knotted when a character kissed another. Or how your face turned red when someone said a flirtatious line. You were so smitten for romance. And then, as the scene starts, Yunho can't help but grin.

"Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I swear. That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—"

Your head whipped so quickly that you swore it almost snapped. Your eyes were wide, and your throat went dry. Yunho's smile only grew, his legs spreading wider. "What shall I swear by?"

Your lips quivered a tear building on the corner of your eye. "If my heart's dear love—"

His hand that was playing with your back now slowly snaked around your waist, sitting up to tug you slowly towards him. You let him manhandle you until you were perched on his right thigh. "O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"

He whispered that line, his lips so close to yours, and then you finally responded. Your fingers lacing into his loose shirt, "What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"

"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine." You could feel his hot breath on your face. His hands gripped your ass slightly, grinding your body forward so your chest was flushed against his. You had forgotten the movie entirely now as you leaned in to seal your lips against his own. Your mouths move in sync like a play only the two of you can perform. Your hands, dance along one another, feeling every curve and imperfection. Neither of you could tell when or how clothes were lost or how Yunho ended up on top of you. But as the movie drew to a climax, he made sure you did too. Sunk so beautiful on his cock, he listened to your moans like his favorite song.

His thrusts, were so gentle, so moving. Like he spoke words of endearment without his voice. His fingers laced with yours, as his lips kiss any part of your skin. “My Romeo.” You’d whisper.

“My Juliet,” He murmured back.

-

anywayyss hehe. I hope you like this. I tried making it more of a poetic thingy i dont't know. but also thank you for sending in an asks again. ♡♡♡

[tvrgaryenz]

the fact that you’s new season is set in london and not in paris ?? i feel robbed ?? 

[bedoballoons]

Hello I suddenly had a idea since it's October

And thought of the anemo boys finding out that

Reader is a werewolf because of a full moon

Ahhh apologies you didn't get this in october! I hope you still enjoy the idea though because I loved writing it! Thank you for your request! <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Awoooo~༺}

CW: Slight fear in the characters, reader is a werewolf, fluffy in most but angst in Wanderers!! Xiao has a bird form!!

(Includes: Venti, Kazuha, Heizou, Wanderer, and Xiao!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Venti:

"Are...are you okay?" Venti reached a hand out to you, his face pale and body shaking with the cold of the spooky night. He could barely make out your shadow in the light of the full moon, you were groaning in pain...body shifting before his eyes in ways his brain didn't know how to handle. "H-hello?"

Your head turned, no longer that of a humans, but of a ravage beast with almost glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth. He was petrified in place, unable to move even a inch as you drew closer... you could never hurt him...you wanted him to know it was okay. "I'm...not dangerous...I swear."

He fell to the ground, back against the tree as you closed the distance, gently tapping your nose to his knee and hoping with all your heart.. he'd still accept you after finding out your big bad secret. He closed his eyes tightly, reaching out a shaky hand to touch your soft fur. Once he did he seemed to ease up...still finding the whole situation jarring, but no longer scary and definitely not enough to end what you shared.

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Kazuha was trying his best to stay calm, but seeing you in the bright moonlight with fur that ruffled in the wind and hearing your howl when you caught the look in his eyes...it was alot for him. "W-what's going on? What h-happened to you?" He had goosebumps all over his skin and his heart was pounding so loud that your sensitive ears heard it like a beating drum, but he still kneeled down in front of you...wanting not to run away...but make sure you that you were alright, even though he was scared he still cared about you.

"I'm okay...I promise. I just...don't want you to think I'm going to hurt you, just because I'm like this doesn't make me a monster..."

"I know you won't, I guess my mind got the better of me...no matter if you have claws and sharp teeth or soft hands and sweet smiles, I will always love you."

𑁍༄Heizou:

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"I knew it..."

Those words were anything but what you were expecting...had he really found out your secret before the moon had even been full. "H-how could you possibly have known? I know you're a-a detective but-"

"But I know you and I love you, so obviously I tend to notice things about you more often than you do. I wasn't entirely sure if my hypothesis could be true...I just had a inkling."

"And...do you hate me for it..?"

"Not in the slightest, you're the love of my life and if anything it just makes me all the more curious about you. I want to learn everything."

"W-what are you? Why do you look like that?" Wanderer looked at you...something almost like betrayal painted on his features while you stared back at him with wide yellow eyes,..unable to ease his feelings. "I'm...a werewolf...and I look like this because of the full moon, but I promise it's not bad. I don't want to hurt anyone or be a monster, I didn't even want you to find out..."

"I wish I hadn't."

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao kneeled down in front of you, his eyes meeting yours as he watched you intensely...you were shocked to see him unfazed by your change from the moon. "Xiao...you're not... surprised?" He shook his head, slowly reaching out to touch your fur as he whispered quietly under his breath, "I wouldn't say not surprised... it's more like...I understand."

"What.."

He sighed, pulling away so you could watch in awe as he changed too, his body shrinking into that of a birds and dark teal feathers now taking place of his normal skin...he was more like you than you ever could have known.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[totally-not-here-for-the-smut]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write about the M6 having baby fever? It can be nsfw and or sfw, I don't really care! Thank you!

Hi, my fellow julianist-smutter! As before, I'll randomly pick the spicy level for each character and write them in whatever-my-mind-blurts-out-first-order. The adult themes will be on a properly flagged reblog!

Key: ◇Random/cute/funny stuff; ♡romanticism/physical affection/teasing; ♧light smut&fluff; ♤hic sunt DONGS, minors def nope out

~♡~

[F!reader]

Portia keeps getting home late without any reasonable explanation. When pressed she blurts ovious lies, so you start to grow suspicious, then jealous. One day it gets the best of you, and you decide to follow her...

...up until the magic shop?! Is she...? And Asra??? You hear them talking quietly, so you sneak in from the backdoor. Portia seems... distressed? Hopeful...? Asra is explaining something complex from a big, old book.

Days later you get that book with an excuse, and magic helps you find the page they were looking at. The spell seems very complicated. Some kind of ritual that involves two women, a man, some fresh rainwater and nine full moon cyc...

Oh.

Oh.

Blood flushes to your face and somewhere else. You slam the book shut in embarrassment, and put it back. You're not sure about how to talk with Portia, for your hart is full of a warmth your words can't express.

You decide to let her be the one talking about it, when she'll feel ready.

~♡~

Nadia keeps pulling out pictures of when she was young, talking about all of her fondest childhood memories and how blessed is an home full of children.

She gets you to se Pepi's new litter, and you see her melt internally as she holds one of the tiniest fluffy balls.

One day you find her and Natiqua with Nadia's nephew. They've come to visit even though she went to see the newborn just few weeks ago. With an excuse, Natiqua hands you the little one, who grabs your hair and doesn't let go. The sisters laugh, whispering something in Pakran. God where's Julian when you need him.

One day she gifts you a beautiful calendar. It's gilded in gold and powered lapis, with beautiful illustrations of the two of you each month. Some days are marked. This time Julian's around, and bursts out laughing when he recognizes a fertility pattern.

Looks like you're gonna do this.

Lucio is super happy. He's always wanted to be the cool uncle.

Little does he know, Noddy has a comprehensive list of what games, tales and shenanigans will and won't be allowed.

~♧~

You and Lucio have a pregnancy scare. He panics, cries that he's too cool and young to be a dad (he's not, he's 40). Disappears hunting in the woods for a week.

He must have met his mother, because when he comes back at the Palace his left cheek is red and swollen.

Thank the gods it was just a scare.

The days after, Lucio starts to act weird. You caught him staring at you with a dumb dreamy smile.

He tells you he bought new animals from the red market. You're expecting crocpdiles, but fing wourself surrounded by hundreds of the cutest ducklings you've ever saw.

Mercedes, Melchior and Pepi are -burp- very happy of this.

You spend two days consoling Lucio.

Then he brings home ten "kittens".

They're tiger cubs.

Mercedes and Melchior happy.

Pepi very not happy.

Nadia and Portia extremely not happy.

When he arrives with a baby dolphin to substitute the vampire eels, Nadia snaps and tell him to go make a baby already if he so wants small things around him

That evening, you enter your room to find him laying on your bed, rose petals all around you, magical windchimes dangling over the bed.

"It MUST BE a great idea, Noddy had it!"

~♧~

Asra is the one who doesn't realize he has baby fever. Everyone else knows he has it, everyone is lowkey laughing about it, but god fkrbjd someone makes him notice.

You are now subscribed to detailed reports of Asra's paternity dreams. He goes on and on describing the beautiful white haired baby he dreamt, they were sleeping on his chest, with a cute pijama with small red foxes embroided on it. Each day he adds new details.

Every morning you wake up to a different, exotic breakfast in bed. "I figure you wanted chestnuts with spiderhoney" "I got you yak salty milk with spices!" "Hey, I brought you the deer horn flour sourdough you asked me for... what do you mean you didn't asked me for it? I deamed you were craving it?! Again?"

He's also all over you, night and day. If it was for him, you'd never leave the magic shop.

He takes every chance he gets to hug your belly. Now you're both used to him falling dead asleep there after going down on you. Sometimes he gives tiny kisses on your belly as he sleeps, and you smile while passing your fingers through his hair.

When you finally confronts him about it, he blushes violently and denies everything.

"So, if I told you you can take me now and do as you please, hre on the shop's counter without even locking the door, you wouldn't do it?"

He does it.

~♢~

Julian has worked with quite a number of babies, lately. Thanks to Nadia, now people eat better and are healthier, so they enjoy their life -and Vesuvia's nightlife- way more. This lead to a massive wedding season, and for the first time in his life the women and men who send for Julian night and day aren't lovers (or scorned spouses), but anxious parents of chubby newborns.

It's a lot of work, but for the first time in forever he's strangely not complaining about it. The doctor sleeps very little, but has a constant dumb grin. He is also very confused.

Tired like, he told Asra to "Open wide the mouth, vessel's coming!" while going in with a tongue depressor to take a look at his sore throat. Mouth free, Asra winked. "As big as I remember you Jules, maybe vessel IS an exaggeration"

Julian's house is now full on tiny gifts from the babies (and their parents): handprints on canvas, first drawings (he SWEARS that black spot behind red scribbles is his eye-patch), even a little elephant doll a two year old was adamant about giving him. "I'll put it aside for when he'll want it back, I'm positive it will happen"). You could SWEAR though, that there's a note of horror in his voice when he says so.

As usual, the nsfw ones will be in THIS reblog :)

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part VII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5600 Warnings: swearing, blood, some borrowed in game dialogue, violence, nudity, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here

Summary: Set in Act III, in Cazador's Palace. Continuing from part 6, Astarion has been captured and forced into the seventh slot of the ritual. But there is more conflict then just the physical fight before him. There is still the fight between his broken mind and heart to finish.

Notes: Hi everyone! So, we made it to the big bad fight... Parts of this is based off of how my actual first playthrough went when completing this mission (my character got one shotted and died in the very first round LOL,) along with head cannons that I created months ago as soon as the fight was finished and I finished bawling my eyes out. There is descriptions and some dialogue pulled straight from these scenes, just like the previous chapter, but there is a lot of stuff that I added to read between the lines. I also created a scene for after the fight but before Astarion invites you to the graveyard, as I feel like that poor man needs time to decompress and think before all of that happens! I will include some other quick notes/comments up here, which is slightly spoilery for the chapter - but I wanted you to be aware before you read.

(1) There is a bit of "main character" energy from reader/Tav in this one. As it has been established, reader is blessed by Selûne and this factors in heavily into this chapter! It is a big set up for things to come for completing their own personal arc :)

(2) I know there is a lot of discourse about some people wishing you could hug/comfort Astarion after the fight, and others who believe it is his moment and to just let him be. I agree with both sentiments - so I wrote it in the way that I envision Astarion would be okay with aka he initiates it himself. This is my opinion and characterization for Astarion, and is something that as someone who has touch aversion would be comfortable doing myself.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter and all of the angsty, sad, happy, tender moments it holds. As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

It was like fire was in his veins, pain seeping into every nook and cranny of his body in a way he’d never known.

He would take whips and chains. Teeth and claws. Coffins buried in the ground again. Anything but this.

Astarion couldn’t help the broken scream that escaped from him, the sound echoing throughout the chamber before perhaps his last words escaped him. They were a desperate shout for you, your name shredding his vocal cords. He could barely keep his eyes open from the pain, but what he could see was the searing red that filled the entire room from the infernal magic. And blurry figures through the tears forming in his eyes — his friends gathering together defensively around you.

His mind was a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts. He wanted to you to run — to know that you would at least survive this… that would be his only comfort before he died. He needed you to run. To be safe. To live.

But that selfish voice in him, the devil on his shoulder, whispered and hoped you wouldn’t. Knew you wouldn’t. That hoped maybe, somehow, you could pull through. That after fighting the chosen of gods, an undead dragon, hoards of enemies… just maybe you could defeat the vampire master. Maybe Selûne was watching, and his prayers would finally be answered all these years later in the form of you.

His heart and mind continued to fight as his body kept burning, the pulling of the red magic on his limbs stretching his muscles and bones, pulsing through every pore of his skin.

But he knew what the answer would be — regardless of what he thought, what he hoped. You said it yourself, you would do anything for him. You would die here for him, if it came to it. And at this rate it would.

He was your undoing. He knew it would come to this and yet he still fell for you. Let you fall for him. Let you kiss him and teach him, comfort and protect him. Knowing it would one day lead to something like this.

An end just as violent and bloody as he was.

Astarion had never hated himself more.

His tears broke free, sliding down his face as he silently screamed from the pain and anguish. His voice too broken for anything more than a fragmented choking sound to come out.

It happened in an instant. A flare of blue magic that cut through the scarlet light around them. Then a loud snap echoed through the cave. A teleportation spell — someone was leaving.

Or coming closer.

Then your scent, so sweet and warm washed over him. His eyes closed as he breathed it in, realizing he was must be slipping into delusion from the pain. His brain, or maybe the tadpole, offering the hallucination as a final comfort before death.

“Quickly!” A male voice hissed with urgency.

The voice broke him from his stupor. Gale? He could barely open his eyes, but he forced them open the tiniest smidge.

You were in front of him, your eyes slightly glowing from the magic everywhere as they focused just behind him. “Darling,” He mumbled in confusion, so unsure of what happened, of how you were here.

You spoke so softly to him. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He looked down to see your hands flashing with their own magic as they cut through the incantations binding him.

He felt the pressure on his ankles dissipate, his eyes flicking to you and the rest of your friends. They were shouting as they launched spells and swung their blades at the beasts and creatures under his master's control. Karlach’s scream of rage vibrated the stone floor as she cleaved through a werewolf like it was nothing.

But where was he? Where was Cazador?

And as he thought it, he appeared. His master’s red eyes piercing through Astarion as he felt the final piece of the incantation snap free, his body started to fall the few feet back to the stone ground he was hovering above.

The ancient vampire must have felt it, the spell breaking, the moment he was free. His eyes snapped to you instantly and if looks could kill… Cazador’s jaw set and his nostrils flared as he took a single step forward with his staff raised.

"Wait, no—"

And just as fast as you had appeared, Cazador was launching a powerful spell at you. Astarion screamed your name, lurching forward to shield you. But it was too late. It was as if time slowed completely as he watched you whirl around, your hair splaying as you turned to him, your eyes widening with shock. And fear.

And then you crumbled to the ground.

“Such a waste.” The ancient vampire snarled from across the dais, waving his staff as he finished the incantation.

Images flashed into Astarion’s mind of your lifeless body in his lap in the Shadowlands, the sound he had buried of your heart slowing until it stopped. You had promised back in the Shadowlands, on that tiny dock — you promised you would stay out of harms way. This wasn't happening, it was a nightmare. It should be him, not you.

No, no, no, no.

“NO!!” His words were echoed throughout the chamber as Shadowheart thrust her hands forward — a blinding, golden glow in her hands rocketing towards you, unmoving on the ground.

It struck your chest where Cazador’s dark spell had hit just mere seconds before — seeping into you, spreading across your body until it radiated with magic. Your unconscious form was raised into the air, floating with a golden outline. The tips of your silvery-white hair waving with a breeze that came out of no where. Then your eyes flashed open — but they were not their usual shade, his newfound favorite color since he met you. No, they were glowing silver, radiating authority and power as they stared at his old master.

You opened your mouth to speak as you remained floating, but it was not just your voice. A female voice that dripped with authority echoed your words, like something was speaking through you. Someone.

Gods, it couldn't be.

“Your reign of terror and abuse ends here, Cazador Szarr. I refuse to let your hate and cruelty fester any longer." You dipped your chin down, your blazing eyes narrowing as you remained locked on the ancient vampire.

Cazador cocked his head, an eyebrow raised at the spectacle of you. Astarion knew the gears were turning in his head, calculating and trying to figure out how he would turn this into an advantage. What he would get from you.

But your voice continued, the second one still joining you as you floated closer to the center dais, closer to the vampire master. "You believe yourself to be all-powerful. You believe yourself to be a blessing, a mercy to the creatures you keep at your feet. A benevolent master who can make himself a God."

Everyone in the room had stopped to watch, the ritual stopped with Astarion freed. Friend and foe both had weapons at their sides, mouths slightly agape as they tried to process what they were seeing. Who they were seeing.

There were not many beings of Faerûn who could say that they had seen a God in the flesh.

As it was Selûne who spoke through you know, who granted you this power, who had created this vision of blinding radiance in this dark, decrepit crypt.

"But what you really are… is a result, from a cycle of venom and greed and fear. And that cycle ends today.” You, she, said it so matter-of-factly. Declared so simply that it was both of your wills, so it would be so. Closing your eyes softly, your hands lifted up like you were summoning something deep within yourself.

Astarion's mouth fell open as light began to radiate out of you, silver and bright like the fullest moon on a clear night. He had become so accustomed to the talent of his friends — Shadowheart's golden light, Gale's purple and blue, Wyll's fiendish red. But this, this was something different. Pure and unfiltered power from the Goddess of the Moon. Then the light erupted, traveling so fast and loud that his elven senses twinged.

It hurled into the Vampire Master, his face mirroring yours from moments ago — filled with shock and fear. Astarion had never seen his master afraid, not in two hundred years. His steps faltered, off-kilter as he reeled from your blinding light that clung to him.

Who was the weak, pathetic boy now?

"NOW!" Your screamed, your voice returning to your own — though Selûne's power and magic still radiated off of you. Determination lined every single one of his friends' faces as they rushed forward to hurl their attacks on the Master and his creatures.

Astarion's hands were steady as his fingers unsheathed the daggers at his side, his stare deadly as he stalked towards the man who had ruined his life, broken him over and over. Cazador was trying to twirl and deflect, but the attacks kept coming as he was blinded by the light that was you. Yet, he still caught Astarion's eyes, still smiled wickedly at his spawn — even though Astarion could smell his terror and rancid blood from here.

"You are going to regret underestimating us, Cazador." He hissed as he flung his magical daggers out. They struck true, one slicing through the soft flesh of his side and the other up across his cheek.

"Agh!" The vampire's knees shook as he tumbled forward, another blast of magic hit into his back. His red eyes flickered up through his strong brow as he remained keeled over, "You don't have the balls to kill me, boy. Or did you forget that every part of you is mine?"

Astarion's nostrils flared as rage flooded through him, his vision turning red without the infernal magic surrounding them. He held his palms open as his daggers returned to them, twirling them in his hands without thought as he stepped forward once more. "You can't be owned by a dead man." He spat, before sending his daggers out once more.

"NOOO-" The ancient vampire's screams filled the crypt, bouncing off the stone floors and walls. With a poof, he turned into his infamous mist but your light clung onto him — illuminating his path as it raced for the sarcophagus nearby.

"No, no!" A deep desire for vengeance flooded Astarion as Cazador tried to escape, his voice a snarl he could barely recognize. His red eyes could focus on nothing else but his tormentor's end, his pain, his misery. He could draw it out, torment the sadistic bastard to match what he had done to him for all those years. A pounding was filling his pointed ears, the steady thump increasing as he chased after the mist. Using his vampire spawn strength he tore the top of the sarcophagus off, shoving it angrily to reveal the beaten and bleeding vampire within. "No, no! No healing sleep for you. Wake up!" He growled, grabbing him by his pretentious, soiled collar and throwing him to the ground.

Cazador weakly fought back, scrambling back onto his knees. He sneered up at his spawn looming over him, "Get your hands off me, worm!"

"I'm not the one in the dirt," Astarion spat, gripping the dagger in his hand so tightly that is already pale knuckles turned completely white. His bare chest was rising up and down, not from breath but with deep emotion. "One last thrust and I'll be free of you. I'll never have to fear you again."

The vampire spawn put on the mask he had mastered for centuries, his face a lethal calm as he suggested, "But if I finish the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone, ever."

If he did this, there would be no hiding, no running. No more fear, for either of you. He would destroy anyone and anything who would come to harm you. Who would stop him? You both could be anything you wanted, matched equals backed with powers that equaled those of the Gods.

His old master only scoffed, "You think me a fool? That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words, and ascend in my place? The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual. Complete it and those bearing the scars will be sacrificed - you included. You are simply a means to an end. I made you to be consumed."

"I AM SO MUCH MORE THEN WHAT YOU MADE ME!" Astarion roared, bending down more to scream in his face. He felt the intoxicating feeling of power, control flooding through him when Cazador actually flinched, "You fucking leech." His jaw was set tightly as he breathed in the scent of blood that was filling the room, desperate, primal need suddenly filling him. He was losing his focus, his bearings — what was this all for? Who was this all for?

Safety. Agency. Freedom. Power. Control. Dominance. Ascendancy.

The words were twisting darker and darker in his head as once again his broken mind and heart battled against each other. His hands started trembling as he finally looked away from the ancient vampire beneath him. Looking up to his siblings still bound by the remainders of the spell, up the stairs to the thousands of souls — real, present souls — who were trapped down here for centuries. He could feel his heart starting to climb up his throat as two separate sides of himself battled internally.

Remember who you are, Astarion.

You had said that — so softly, with such a gentle touch as you had tried to ground him. No one had ever looked at him like you did, touched him like you did. His red eyes flickered over to you, and his half-dead heart fluttered strangely. He spoke with less of a bite, the edge disappearing, "If I do this I will be free. Truly, completely free. Isn't that what you want, my love?"

Your eyes looked at him, boring into his soul like no one else had. You stepped forward, so unafraid unlike him. There was no tremble in your hands, nor shaking in your knees. You didn't even look at the vampire master cowering on the ground, the immortal male who minutes ago had killed you. No, your beautiful eyes remained only on him as you stepped forward.

Silver was still lingering in your eyes, but he realized it was not latent power from Selûne. It was tears, threatening to break free as you spoke. The saddest smile spread your lips, your brows tugging in the middle. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

When would it end? Cazador had everything, his every whim met, more riches then one could imagine, thousands of spawn under his control. Even if he had completed the ritual, the vampire bastard Cazador was already plotting his next plan for cruelty by taking you. When would it end? Would any of it had ever been enough?

Could he live with himself, if he became that? Could you?

You spoke again, your voice so soft it was a whisper, "Let the cycle end here, Astarion."

His name on your lips struck him hard. It made him feel alive again, blinking back to reality. He shook himself out of the dark daze he was descending into, "You - you're right. I can be better than him." His gaze went back down to the man below him, the stirring feelings in him resolving as his fingers closed on his dagger once more. "But I'm not above enjoying this."

Fear glimmered in Cazador's eyes as Astarion fisted his long hair and plunged his blade into his chest.

And again.

And again.

Astarion imagined every lash, every carving cut, every scream and howl.

Again.

Again.

Every tremble and gulp he pushed down in an alley or tavern or forgotten hallway. Every moment of self-loathing. Every broken thought of wishing for it all to end — for someone, somewhere to just end him already.

Again.

Again.

He was covered in blood, the sticky red liquid splattering over his bare torso, creeping up his arms, neck and face. It was not appetizing, it did not cause a frenzy.

No, only a strange satisfaction.

Like a cleansing of his body and mind. His soul.

Complete catharsis.

Cazador's body had stopped moving long ago, laying mutilated at his feet.

His magical dagger, soured with the blood of his old master clattered onto the stone floor behind him. His trembling fingers losing hold of the blade, then his knees buckled and he was kneeling on the floor. His whole body was shaking, gasps escaping him as choked sobs climbed up his throat. He could not keep it down, not after all these years. Not after centuries of suppressing it, forcing it down to not give him the satisfaction.

Hot tears fell fast down his cheeks, and the howls of anguish, triumph and rage finally escaped.

Astarion wasn't sure how long he knelt in that pool of blood for. Time had no meaning at the moment, all of his senses suddenly turned off as he cried and howled.

“It’s over.”

Your voice. You.

Fluttering his eyes open, he found you kneeling in front of him. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your own cheeks stained with tears.

“It’s over,” You whispered again. You had kept your distance — your hands resting on your thighs, as you too knelt in the blood. Not from fear of him, but to give him space. You couldn’t ask to touch him, not at this moment but you needed him to know he wasn’t alone.

Astarion launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around your body as he buried himself into your neck. His cries started all over again.

“It’s over. You’re okay. We’re okay.” You continued the comforting whispers, holding him against you — you started to rock, swaying the both of you back and forth.

He couldn’t stop the sobs escaping him — they had been building up for so long and now these they had broken free he wasn’t sure how to stop. He tried blinking away the lingering tears from the bottom of his vision, taking you in. “You, he—“ He put his stained hands on either side of your face, drinking you in in. “What did I do? What did I do?”

"He's gone. He's gone." You whispered.

Astarion pushed his forehead onto yours, mumbling incoherently, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, M'sorry..."

"Shhhh, my love." You said tenderly, your fingers caressing the nape of his neck in a comforting touch. "I've got you. I've got you."

• • •

Astarion wasn’t sure how he got back to the inn.

The journey back was a blur of healing spells, quick decisions and whispers of worry. He had stumbled back next to you, your arm wrapped around his waist holding him close to you. It was his only reassurance as the rest of the world swirled around him. He hadn’t let you ask — gluing himself to you in a silent answer before your mouth could even open. Now you both were in the group’s room in the Elfsong Tavern— the rest of your companions out for the remainder of the day. He was sure there was an exchange of looks and whispered words about him before the decision was made. He was sure that if he had been really looking he would have seen pity across all of their faces. But he didn't care to. He couldn’t really bring himself to react to anything but what had happened.

Cazador was dead. By his hands.

He was free. Yet stuck. Forever a spawn. Forever fragmented and damaged probably — if how he felt right now was any indication.

But free, nonetheless, he guessed.

You had pulled across the privacy curtains and made him a hot bath, the steam and smell of oils clouding throughout the room. Hints of magic too. Then you asked him in a gentle voice if he would like to get cleaned up, gesturing down at him. Astarion blinked as he looked down at himself and his ruined clothes. The shirt he was wrapped in wasn’t even his own — Wyll had thrusted it at him in that good gentlemanly way he was trained to do since he was a boy. The knees of his pants were shredded from the stone floor he had knelt on. And blood. So much of it. There was red splattered everywhere on him — dried and caked on by now. He wondered if the feeling of Cazador’s blood would linger like the other phantom touches and feelings that haunted his skin. Maybe he would be scrubbing at it long after it was physically cleaned off of his skin too — turning his almost pearlescent skin dark pink.

The vampire could only nod at you, lifting his arms up to attempt to pull off his shirt before wincing. Even with his immortal body and vampiric strength, he was sore. The pulling and stretching of his muscles from the binding magic would linger for a while he imagined. "Help me." He muttered weakly. You averted your gaze as you helped him peel the shirt off of him, your touch the most gentle it had ever been. Astarion was so lost in his own mind that he didn't even realize he had stepped out of his ruined pants, his blood-soaked boots moments later. He barely registered his movements as he crawled over the large wooden sides of the tub and slipped into the water.

The heat of the water instantly warmed his muscles, giving him some reprieve from the physical pain that lingered. It even lifted the fog from his mind as he sat for a moment in the water, watching the water move around him slightly - barely tinting to red before some kind of enchantment cleansed it away. As he watched the blood and dirt drift off of him, he felt the numbing going away too. The tremble in his hands returned, shaking under the water as he blinked back to reality. That feeling from down in the crypt was returning — he felt like he was back on his knees in the puddle of blood, his heart crawling up his throat, his skin hot and crawling—

His red eyes flicked up to search for you, finding you seated near him but with your back turned — trying to offer privacy but to be nearby if he needed you. Astarion’s throat closed up again as he looked at you, the comfort he so desperately wanted. It was almost overwhelming. Just weeks ago, he was trying to wrap his head around why someone would want such soft, simple touches. Why someone would just want to be held, nothing more. Now he felt his body shaking and tears forming from your absence.

“Join me,” He finally croaked out to the back of your head. His voice was a weak whisper — gods, he sounded pathetic.

You twirled in your chair, looking over your shoulder to him with furrowed brows. “Astarion, I—”

But he cut you off, your name was a choked sob from his mouth. “Please,” He begged before you could say anything else.

You immediately relented, standing up, taking off your clothes unceremoniously and sliding into the wooden tub. It was the most he had seen of your body in months, and not at all how he pictured it would go. Astarion felt your knees brush his as you sat across from him. Even just the barest touch had the crawling sensation across his skin calming. He took a steadying breath, before he finally took you in.

Only your shoulders and up could be seen in the deep wooden tub. Red blood had dried all over you, shaped like handprints— his own handprints had smeared the blood that crusted over your soft skin and stained your silvery-white hair. A pang shot through him. “Look what I’ve done—” His wet hands cupped the side of your face, echoing the action that probably put the stains there in the first place. Guilt flooded through him.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You laid your cheek flush into his hands on your face. Then you turned your mouth, pressing your lips to his palm gently. Kissing his hands like they weren’t capable of monstrous, violent things. Like they hadn’t been covered in blood moments ago. “Are you?”

He stroked his pale thumb across your cheek before withdrawing it. Instead he searched for your own hand under the water, intertwining his fingers with yours. He kept his eyes on the water, shifting slightly back and forth — thinking quietly. “I don’t— I’m not sure how to answer that, right now.”

“Take your time, my love.” You said softly, squeezing his fingers. Astarion was thankful for your calming presence, but he needed more. He knew once you longed to just hold his hand, and it was a terrifying thought. But now he needed to be wrapped up in you, held so tight he would forget where he ended and where you started. In the small space of the tub, he barely had to move before he was pressed against you. His head in the crook of your neck, his nose pressed into your soft skin, inhaling your addicting scent. His arms around your waist as he held on to you for dear life. Within an instant you had your arms wrapped around him, fingers twirling in the ends of his hair, as you comforted him.

“I— I’ve lived with this all for so long. This pain. Who am I without it?” He whispered into your ear, so afraid to admit such things while looking in your eyes. But you pulled away, just enough so you could see him. Your eyes searching his — and they were so tender and full of deep emotion. Love, he finally realized. His half-dead heart fluttered at the realization. You loved him — even as the broken, undeserving creature he was. But instead of falling into deprecation and self-loathing, he savored the realization. He let himself get lost in it, the feeling of being loved by you. The reality of being loved by you, and it was so good… after so many years of shit.

“You are so much more than your pain, Astarion,” Your thumb stroked his side gently, your hands still wrapped around him as you held him close. “Or your past. But now you can define yourself however you want to be.”

Fresh tears slipped from the corners of his red eyes as he buried his face into your neck once again. His emotions were too intermixed, too hard to communicate out loud now as they all vied for his attention. But instead of numbing himself like had for centuries, he let himself be calmed by you instead.

Astarion stayed in that tub with you until there was no trace of the blood and dirt, nothing left to remind the vampire of him. He had made a silent vow to himself to never speak that name again, to not give the dead vampire master power over himself anymore. You seemed to catch on quickly to that too, the poisonous name had not been on your lips since you left the crypt. There was of course the giant fucking ritual carved into his back. And his fangs and sanguine hunger that could only remind him of who had cursed him to this existence. But one thing at a time. Cleaning off the blood would be a start. Burning those retched clothes that he had suffered in as well…

You both were pruny, but clean, when you finally emerged from the tub. Your beautiful eyes never strayed from his face as the pale elf stood up and slipped out behind you, grabbing your extended hand for support. Damp footprints were left behind as the two of you trailed over to your bed hidden in the corner of the room.

You were lying in bed now, both of your naked bodies wrapped in the warm blankets and each other. There was nothing sexual about it… nothing like Astarion had experienced. To be fair, such thoughts were not even registering in his mind right now. But he was surprised at how much he enjoyed this — simply skin to skin with you, no lust or biting or anything.

It was the most at peace he had felt in weeks. Months. Years, really.

Despite everything else that had happened today.

His pointed ear was pressed to your chest, listening to the steady thrum of your heartbeat like it was his own personal lullaby. But he felt it stutter a few times, your breaths a bit shaky — pushing up he found you scrambling to wipe tears away from your cheeks. Before he could open his mouth, you were giving him a sad smile, "I'm fine." You whispered.

"Darling, you're crying," He said softly back, his thumb catching one of the tears you had missed, starting to roll down your freckled cheek.

"I'm just relieved you're here with me. I was terrified all day, but when he took you — when you were bound by that magic... Gods, I've never been so petrified in my life."

Now you know how I feel. He almost blurted it out, but stopped himself. No, in all of his selfish wallowing these last few hours, he hadn't even brought that up yet — that once again, you had fallen. Taken away from him, from this world. Even if was for just a moment. "I seem to remember having this conversation once before... on a dock in those wretched Shadowlands. What of your promise to me then, hmm? To stay out of harms way."

Your mouth and brows quirked down, "I was supposed to just standby and let you die?"

"I had to watch you die today. Again." His voice broke, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to keep even more tears at bay. "If it wasn't for...," He trailed off. If it wasn't for Shadowheart. If it wasn't for Selûne really — who both powered their cleric but had also done something more. Taken over for you? Imbued you? He wasn’t sure how to describe what he witnessed in that crypt. “What happened today with her? With Selûne?”

“I— I’m not sure," He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, your face furrowing as you thought. "One moment I was with you, and the next... I don’t know. I was there but not. Filled with divine fury and... I wasn't going to allow anything to happen to you. Apparently, neither was she."

Astarion placed his head back on your bare chest, your hand instantly finding the side of his face. Your fingers traced the bottom of his jaw, his strong cheekbones and up to the tops of his ear — before you repeated the smoothing motion all over.

"I will never just standby when it involves you, Starry. Whether it is a physical threat... or something deeper within yourself. I will always shield you, defend you..." You licked your lips nervously instead of finishing your sentence

Love you.

Astarion's mind finished the words instead as you trailed off. He moved his head so he instead shared your pillow, moving so your faces only an inch apart. He studied your face carefully, “Why… why do all that for me?”

Your eyes stared into his, shining with emotion before you lowered your voice into a soft whisper, “You know why, my love.”

His heart fluttered at the unspoken declaration. His cold fingers reached up, curled and delicate as he had ever been, “I can’t help but think— Do I deserve this? Am I worthy of this? Of you?”

“Astarion...." You pushed your warm, flushed check into the palm of his hand, "All you need to ask yourself is do you want this?”

Gods, your eyes and the intimate way the stared into his soul. Your lips, so tender as they pulled into a gentle smile. Your patient touch and desire for him. Your quick wit and sharp tongue. Your big, stupidly kind heart. All of it. He wanted every part of you, to call you his and for him to be yours.

But before he could gain the courage you spoke again, “You don’t need to answer today — enough has happened, my love.”

Hot tears escaped from his red eyes as you displayed your patience once again. He pressed his forehead to yours, a sob escaping him. But it wasn't a cry of anguish, or pain. He wasn't howling with rage and grief. They were tears of overwhelming joy.

The vampire gave himself a moment before letting out a little puff, “Gods, I can’t stop crying. I feel ridiculous.”

“You aren’t ridiculous.”

“I’ve cried more today than I have for my entire life I think. The first one and this one combined.” Despite the crying, he found himself hoping of having yet another life. A third on with you. A chance to start over, all over again.

“I think it’s justified,” You said kindly, "Rest, my love. We will have tomorrow. And the day after that."

At your whispered words and gentle caresses, Astarion finally fell asleep, dreaming of that promise. Tomorrow and the day after that... with you.

[k-kroomie]

Ｔ𝘦ᒐ𝖑 𝗒ǟ' Fǟ𝑡Һᴇ𝔯 ‼️

Punkflower > Hobie × Miles

Reason, why I'm writing this:

3RD POINT OF VIEW.

The current time was 10:14 at night, Hobie and Miles have just arrived on top of Miles building from their date in Hobie's dimension.

Hobie took him to a drive-in movie, but of course, since neither of them have cars, it was a picnic date. Hobie "paid" for their spot, and they set out a picnic blanket and the food they both made. Miles brings a variety of sweets and some strawberry lemonade. Hobie, on the other hand, had gotten nervous and left the sandwiches he was going to bring at home in his fridge. Miles didn’t mind that thought. They could just eat the sweets he brought and get something later.

They ended up seeing some cheesy rom-com, which they made fun of most the time. After the movie, they swang around talking about how stupid the characters were in the movie, the air manly full with Miles laughing at something Hobie said about the characters. They ended their date by hopping into Miles dimension and stopping by multiple food trucks, then eating all of their food on top of Miles apartment building.

Now, here they are saying, "good-bye." Miles climbed into his bedroom through his window, Hobie standing out on the fire escape. Miles bumped into his desk chair, causing it to fall over. "Miles? What are you doing in there," He heard his dad say, "Well, that's my cue to leave ya luv." Hobie said. After laughing, Miles nodded, "Yea, it's time for you to go. I had a lot of fun tonight, Hobie. Thank you." He said with a smile, "Don't thank me, Sunflower, I'd give ya the moon if I could." He said with a smirk.

"Miles?" He heard his father's voice closer to the door, "I'm coming in there, boy." He said, "Okay, you really gotta go now," Miles said, slightly panicked. "Alright, alright. Oh yea! Tell ya, Father, I said 'ello!" He said, making Miles roll his eyes, "Hobie, get outta here!" He whispered to him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

And right before Miles dad can open the door, Hobie is already gone, swinging around Miles dimension like the happiest boy in the world.

The End♡