#behold an adorable prompt

[bluerosefox]

Mama Bat

There was a baby in the Batcave.

There was a baby in the Batcave.

There was a glowing, white haired, Lazarus green eyed baby floating in the freaking Batcave!

A baby that was currently wearing a superhero themed footy pajamas and making tiny circles in the air as they coo and make spit bubbles.

A baby Cass had found while on patrol... in Hong Kong before suddenly and somehow appearing in Gotham. In the Batcave.

Along with them, sitting innocently on the batcomputer chair was a baby bag (themed after Black Bat somehow) full of everything a baby needed a glowing green sticky note with purple handwriting on it.

'Cassandra Cain

Take care of our little Ghostling. Everything will make sense in due time.

P.S Daniel enjoys the stars.

-CW'

By the time Bruce finished reading the note aloud, Cass had manged to get a hold of the baby who was making happy noises and patting her cheek.

And a second later a blinding light overtook the baby and once the light was gone, the baby now had black hair and bright blue eyes.

[chuluoyi]

✎ the babysitters' club

- gojo satoru x reader

in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

genre: total crack, first years are trying their best to babysit your son to save their grades, an attempt at humor, gojo is irritating as always, fluff, fluff, fluff

note: this is sooo incredibly silly :') some inspiration are taken from the baby starfish onesie, this ask, and this illustration -> if you're wondering how gojo dressed his baby, he's looks just like that :)) tagging @3zae-zae3 <3

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Gojo-sensei... what is that wiggling starfish!?"

On one sunny day in jujutsu school... trouble is once again brewing in the form of Gojo Satoru bringing his baby son to the class.

"Starfish? No, no," Gojo retorted with a displeased expression, directing his gaze towards Yuji and clicking his tongue as he patted his squirming baby, which was still hidden from their view. "He's my pride and joy! Don't refer to him as starfish!"

"But you've got him dressed up as one..." Nobara pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed.

"That's his kid," Megumi provided, wearily sighing. God, he knew already today was going to be a long day.

No one from school had seen your seven-month old baby son yet, and Gojo was determined to make it an occasion to remember.

Beaming with pride, he gently removed his baby from the starfish-themed onesie, revealing him in a tiny black jujutsu outfit specially tailored for him, complete with miniature black glasses. He held him up, presenting him for everyone to see.

"Behold, everyone... my son! Isn't he just adorable?!"

. . . a momentary silence before—

"Oh my goodness, he is!" Nobara cooed, forgetting her earlier sentiment, immediately approaching the baby with shining eyes. "Sensei, how could you manage to have a baby this cute!?"

"Heh! Only the finest technique utilized to create him—"

"Complete bullshit—"

"Hush, Megumi! No cussing in front of my baby! I'll deduct your marks!"

"Seriously...?"

"Now, class, today I have a very, very important task for you..." Gojo said, his voice dripping with mischief as he sported a broad grin. "If you succeed, I'll personally draft a recommendation letter for each of you to Yaga. But if you don't..." he paused for the suspense, scanning his three students' curious faces.

"Then I'm failing you in my class!" Gojo continued with a grin, prompting immediate reactions from his students.

“What! Why?!”

“That's not fair!”

“Sigh.”

“All you have to do was to watch over him until I come back. Everything you need is here— in this bag!”

Megumi rolled his eyes. Nobara raised an eyebrow. Only Yuji who seemed to be genuinely interested.

"Isn't that easy?" Gojo tilted his head playfully, looking absolutely stupid with his blindfold. "There are three of you here. If you can't even manage to look after one baby, then you should not even think about romance and dating."

"Nonsen—"

"Quiet, Megumi!"

And so began the day's mission: looking after Baby Gojo until his father's return.

“Lalala~ look you’re flying!”

“Fwa...”

“Kugisaki, don’t hold him like that! You’re making him cry!”

“No, I’m not— Itadori! Don’t smush his face—!”

“WAAA!”

“You idiot!” Megumi hissed, plucking the poor baby from his clueless friends and immediately soothed him, pulling him close and patting his back. He even gently shushed him, “There, there...”

And Yuji and Nobara could only look at him in awe as the baby's wails turned into soft sniffles, peaceful in his embrace.

"Whoa... Fushiguro, so babies like you, huh..."

"Unfair!" Nobara clicked his tongue, before fixing a wide smile and waved at the baby in Megumi's arms. "Hi baby~ don't you want to held by big sister—"

"He doesn't like you, Kugisaki."

And so, that was how the three of them spent half the day—constantly watching over Baby Gojo, with Megumi supervising both the baby and his two friends.

"Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in him..." Megumi grumbled sullenly, resigned to his fate, his gaze fixed on the crawling baby while he sat on the floor and threw his little sunglasses.

For all the sighs he exuded, Megumi undeniably had a soft spot for the baby. Prior today, he had held him several times, and he'd never admit it, but he'd protect him to the best of his ability, if anything, because you had done so much for him.

“Gojo-sensei is cool!” Yuji remarked. “Of course Y/N-sensei is happy with him.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that.”

"Hey, don't you think he wants his milk?" Yuji suddenly pointed out, as the baby became fussy. Megumi nodded and Yuji immediately reached for the bag Gojo left. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to his friend, but in the process, he accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Ahh, my bad," the boy sighed, collecting the diapers and washcloth, until he realized that there were some more—

"What's that? Photographs?" Nobara picked one of them up, and immediately gasped. "Oh my! Look at this!"

On the picture was the same baby, but much more smaller and swaddled in baby blue blanket and tiny blue beanie. Most likely taken when he was a newborn.

"Whoa, wait, there's something written behind the photo..."

When she flipped it over, both she and Yuji studied the messy handwriting, instantly recognizing it as their teacher's.

Yaaay! ♡ Baby is here! I'm sooo happy you made it! But mama went through a lot to bring you here... so don't ever forget that she loves you very, very much, okay?

"This is sweet." Nobara looked at the picture with a genuine smile, until she realized that there were some more scattered on the floor.

The other picture was of the blue-eyed baby on his arms and knees, wrapped in an orange and black bee onesie, complete with little wings, and behind it was written:

Aren't you just the cutest bee?! And what's more, you've started crawling! Aw, papa is so proud! In no time at all, you're going to be as strong as me!

"What are you two doing over there?" Megumi asked, still feeding the baby with the milk bottle. Nobara beckoned him over.

The third photo was of you smiling so prettily while holding your baby, still in his bee suit, and Gojo also in the frame, wrapping his arm around you, clearly the one holding the camera to take the selfie.

Two my most precious treasures ♡ Sweetheart, I love you. And baby too!

Yuji smiled, as he felt warmth spreading in his chest. "Gojo-sensei really treasures his family, huh?"

"He is," Megumi agreed, because he had seen it all throughout his life.

"Well, no wonder..." Nobara giggled. "Any woman showered with this much love would be happy."

And that day, the trio also uncovered another side of their teacher, that his deepest affection was reserved exclusively for his wife and child.

Well, the sentimental feeling didn't last long though...

"This is our chance!" Nobara said in a hushed whisper. "When else are we going to get an extra family discount!?"

Megumi was so ready to burst a blood vessel as he held the baby—given that he had forbidden his two friends to lay a finger on him. "We are meeting Gojo-sensei here, not to—!"

"Hush! Itadori, don't you agree with me?!"

Yuji nudged his cross friend, trying to appease him. "Lighten up, Fushiguro! We can have more meat!"

At the last minute, Gojo suddenly told the three of them to bring his baby and meet him at the shopping center as he didn't want to waste energy to go back to the school. And like broke students Nobara and Yuji were, they decided to use Baby Gojo to snag an extra plate in a yakiniku place.

Megumi's eyes twitched. "This is not making sense at all, they won't believe—!"

"Shut up, you! Waiter~ here! We have a baby! So we're eligible for the family package!"

The judging stare of the waiter was enough to make Megumi combust on the spot, and yet somehow he passed the four of them as family eligible for the extra plate.

It was later, after they had their lunch that Megumi suddenly had an upset stomach and left the baby momentarily in his two friends' care.

And under less-than-watchful eyes...

"Hey, Kugisaki, meat on this side is the juiciest! Try it!"

"Ooh, you're right!"

The baby only blinked at them in wonder as he stayed in his spot. Not for long though... and it didn't help that they forgot his existence after they went to the cashier and headed out.

"Oi, Itadori! Don't forget to split the bill!"

"Oh yeah! Anyway, why is Fushiguro taking so long?"

Megumi got back right afterwards, and he frowned. "You done already? I haven't even gotten my ocha refill—" and it dawned to him when he saw both Yuji and Nobara with empty hands.

"Wait... where's the baby?"

"—! Oh my god!"

And when the three of them rushed back to the yakiniku place and approached their table earlier, Nobara almost screamed at the empty chairs, "He is gone!"

"You left the baby with the kids and told them to come here?!"

You were positively fuming as you scolded your stupid husband in the bustling mall.

"Well, we haven't gotten much time to spend together, just the two of us!" Satoru retorted, his tone sulky as he pouted. "And besides, Megumi is there. I'm sure they'll do just fine~"

You let out a sigh. True enough, being parents is no joke. Aside from stay-at-home dates, the frequency of the two of you going out had dwindled exponentially since having your baby.

"Technically, you are still on the clock though." You threw him a glare. "You're being a very irresponsible teacher."

Satoru smirked. "Heh, spare me. But I'm being a very good teacher to you in our—"

"One more word and I'm locking you out—!"

Just as you were about to give him your (empty) threat, the building suddenly boomed with an announcement from the mall's broadcast speaker.

"Attention, shoppers. We've received a report from three teenagers that they've lost a baby. He is seven-month old, wears black shirt, has white hair and blue eyes. He is last seen at Yakiniku Q—"

"Satoru..." your voice trembled, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The baby described by the speaker was unmistakably your son, and the realization of him being missing sent you spiraling into panic.

"Hey, calm down." Satoru gripped your hand tightly, his voice steady as he faced you. "We're going to find him, alright? I'm here. Don't worry."

And after taking off his glasses, in a matter of seconds, Satoru figured out where he was.

Nobara's eyes welled up with tears, frustrated. "What do I do, Gojo-sensei will fail us now..." she muttered, biting her lip.

"That's what you're worried about?" Megumi replied, turning to her with a clear glare.

"He's going to be fine! He is!" Yuji interjected, trying to reassure his two friends despite his own rising anxiety. "He’s not just any random baby—who knows, maybe he can shoot cursed energy to protect himself!"

Megumi and Nobara leveled their annoyed stares on him and Yuji immediately regretted his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I still think he can't get far from the yakiniku place." Megumi was too panicked to check with the staff earlier and just went with Yuji's suggestion to report it to be announced, but now that he thought about it— "I think we should go back."

And thank goodness the three of them returned for the second time because, this time, they finally saw the baby safely cradled in your arms, with Gojo speaking to the waitresses nearby.

"Oh?! Gojo-sensei is here!"

But as soon as the three of them came into view, Gojo immediately fixed them with his unamused gaze.

"You three..." his voice was lower and it made the three kids shudder. "What did I tell you about failing this mission, huh?"

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi were visibly spooked, immediately bowing their heads in unison as they chorused—

"Gojo-sensei, we're so sorry!"

Nobara then pointed an accusing finger at Yuji. "But it was his fault! He kept eating away and didn't even oversee the baby anymore!"

"Wha!?" Yuji glared back at her. "No! You too! You kept eating my meat too!"

"Whatever it is, I'm not a part of this—" Megumi cut in boldly. "My stomach hurt so I had to go for a bit, and they couldn't even keep an eye on him—"

You soothed your squirming son as the first years were throwing blame at each other. Gaping in confusion, you couldn't help but wonder how such a simple task had turned into this incident.

"Tsk." Gojo crossed his arms dramatically, and you knew he was just messing with them, as he suddenly turned to you with a grin.

"Nah, as both a teacher and the victim's mother— Sensei~ who do you think is responsible for this? Or should I punish all three of them?"

The three kids before you were quaking in their boots, and you really didn't have time for this right now. Honestly, if if you had to quickly pinpoint the source of this chaos...

You directed your most irked glare at your husband. "You."

“Huh?!”

“You’re the one staging this by threatening their grades, and it results in our baby being missing!”

Now you were bickering with your husband and putting him in his rightful place. Nobara and Yuji gaped, while Megumi heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does this mean... our grades are saved?"

Epilogue

"They said he fell..." You pat your baby's head worriedly as he babbled happily in his crib, your expression darkening into a frown.

You didn't really blame the first years for their lack of experience, but as his mother, the news from the restaurant staff that they had found your son falling from the chair made you extremely uneasy.

Seeing your distress, Satoru’s natural response was to comfort you until you were back to smiles again. He gently tickled his boy's tummy, prompting him to squeal in absolute joy. "Look, he's perfectly fine. You don't need to worry so much, yeah?"

"But it's strange... I'm happy he's fine, but how? Most babies will get hurt or at least be inconsolable after falling. But he was totally okay..."

Satoru shifted his gaze to his son, as now his round, crystal blue eyes that mirrored his blinked back at him with such innocence and trust that even melted his heart.

"Ah, I see." Suddenly he smiled as if he had figured something out. "This is just my guess, but you know my guesses have like... 90% of probability of being correct—"

"Hmm...?"

"He might have activated Infinity by instinct. Heh."

[astranyx]

So I'm sure you've all seen this picture before:

It's gotten a surprising amount of use here on Tumblr. So allow me to regail you with the tale of how it came to be.

A while back, (like five or so years) Facebook would not stop inundating me with an ad for a "build it yourself" Hurdy Gurdy kit. Naturally I complained about it to my friend group since it was absolutely ridiculous. Well after about three or so months I finally broke down and bought the damn thing. This immediately prompted my best friend @thevoidwatches to make an edit of the popular Garfield propaganda meme to read "You are not immune to the Hurdy-gurdy." And we all had a good laugh about it. Void ended up helping me build the Hurdy-gurdy which was a very fun time, even though the cursed thing sounds like a dying cat. But even still it's a very beautiful to look at piece so I keep it around.

A bit of time passes and @theshitpostcalligrapher opened their askbox to get some good good shitposts to make calligraphy of, and naturally I had to get the meme immortalized. However I didn't remember the wording void used for some damn reason, and ended up submitting "I am not immune to the Hurdy-gurdy"

So why am I telling you all this? Well 2023 just ended and my friend group did our holiday gift exchange. And when I opened up my gift I found out that my best friend @anonforlackofabettername commissioned shits to make me a truly curséd thing.

BEHOLD:

A new and improved version of the infamous "I am not immune to the Hurdy-gurdy"!

Apparently anne got pictures of the damned Hurdy-gurdy to send to shits for the drawing right in front of me, and I had no idea what their true purpose was for.

It goes without saying that I absolutely love and adore this gift. Now I just gotta find somewhere to hang it up.

[moonstrider9904]

Don't Blame Me

This one shot is for the Bad Batch Prompt event using the prompt:

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Tags: 18+ strictly. Minors should not interact with this or any of my writing pieces as they are content for adults only. Smut, sexual tension, foul language and swearing, oral (female receiving) sex, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, flirting.

Playlist: Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

@arctrooper69 Tagging you right here :D

A night like that one was much too rare. The sun had just finished going down beneath the horizon, and the faintest hue of blue still lit the sky while the stars had already begun their nightly dance. The breeze was warm on your skin, even with the drops of water that lingered on you as you sat at the edge of the pool with your feet and calves still in the water, your hands running down your wet hair as you sighed and took in the life of the moment. The speakers played chill tunes, easy to listen to, perfect to vibe with the summery air and the laughs coming from all around the pool.

You looked around and smiled at the fact that all of your favorite troopers were there, and even some you hadn’t seen before—probably shinies who had just joined their platoons. Boys from the 501st, 212th, hell, even the 99s had bothered to come to a summer pool night on Naboo for their shore leave.

You couldn't help but laugh and think you’d seen it all when, across the pool, you saw that silver-haired sniper taking a sip from a bright cocktail. And his eyes were on you too, glaring, but you were used to that. You shot a cheeky grin at Crosshair only for him to roll his eyes and look away.

Your gaze remained on him for a little longer until you heard somebody diving into the pool, and when you looked at the crystalline water lit by the warm bulbs submerged in it, you quickly realized it was Fives as he emerged from under the water running his hands up his face and towards the back of his head, brushing the hair away. In that pose, Fives opened his arms and flexed, showing off his biceps as he shot you his signature charming grin, winking at you.

“These babies have gotten bigger since the last time I saw you, sweetheart,” Fives beamed.

Laughter escaped you—as much as you adored Fives, his attempts at flirting were always a sight to behold. Something about young, handsome soldiers tripping over their feet for your attention made you wish all summer nights were like that one, and to follow along with Fives’ game, you crossed one leg over the other, planted your hands firmly on the ground at your sides and shrugged, pursing your lips together.

“I don’t know, they kinda look the same to me,” you teased him.

“Don’t listen to him,” you heard the voice next to you as Jesse took a seat beside you only to fully get into the pool and swim over next to Fives, adopting his same pose. “I actually think I pull it off better, and I only lift half as often as he does. It’s like I don’t even have to try.”

“Oh, shut up!” Fives yelled, grinning mischievously as he brushed his hand and forearm over the water’s surface in Jesse’s direction, splashing him.

“That’s how you wanna do it, you runt?” Jesse played along and began splashing back.

As if that gesture were a galactic beckoning for the clones, the pool almost instantly became filled with troopers wanting to partake in the splash battle. You giggled as you watched them splash and wrestle playfully—the scene in front of you was probably the best definition of “boys being boys.” You loved it, and laughter wouldn’t stop leaving you. For the duration of that night, you hadn’t enjoyed anything more than what was currently playing out in front of you.

However, across the pool, the same pair of piercing amber eyes glared past the scene and into you, but you weren’t taking notice of that anymore.

It only took a few seconds for the clones’ splash war to no longer be about you, and the water flying in from multiple directions was beginning to get out of hand. Wiping a couple of drops that had fallen near your eyes, you got up and made your way towards the chair where you’d left your things. You slipped your feet into your sandals, smiling at the sound of the racket behind you blending with the music, and then you took the cream-colored shawl you’d taken to the party and wrapped it around your hips in a makeshift skirt. You were in the mood for a drink now, but while the water wars ended, you figured you’d hit the powder room to adjust your suit.

Crosshair watched you from where he stood, his eyes following your silhouette as you walked from the pool to the lounge. Every time your right leg came forward, your skin was exposed by the edges of the fabric wrapped around your hips, offering him a teasing glimpse of your thigh. He picked up on the sway of your hips, the delicate left and right of every step that you took, partnered perfectly with your hands coming back and forth in tandem with your stride. As you walked past the chairs and the tables, Crosshair took in how gracefully your hair framed your face, as well as how perfectly the top of your bathing suit framed your breasts and the top half of your belly, letting him see the skin just above your belly button only for the smoothness to stop just above your womb, where the shawl began.

Fuck. He suppressed a groan. Did you even have any idea how sensual you looked? Clearly you didn’t, why else would you waste yourself on all those amateurs trying to impress you with a basic flex and a splish-splash of water?

You’d made it to the common mirror just outside the restrooms and looked at your reflection in the flattering warm lighting. You combed through your hair using your fingers, trying to achieve a carefree look, a blend between messy and done that seemed right for the night. When you were done with that, you eased a few creases on the fabric of your shawl and tightened the knot—you didn’t want that getting loose on accident—and you smoothed out the top of your bathing suit as well. Once you were ready to head back out into the party, you turned around and began making your way where you came from. Your thoughts on what cocktail you were gonna get were interrupted by a tall, lean silhouette dressed in black coming into view. The sight of those amber eyes made you stop in your tracks, and you couldn’t help the little grin that appeared on your lips.

“Look who finally decided to socialize,” you teased him.

Crosshair scoffed, his eyes looking aside as he did. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t waste my time or energy with you.”

You placed your hands over your heart, faking a heartache. “Must you hurt me so?”

“I’m not particularly happy with you,” Crosshair crooned.

You giggled. “You’re never happy with anyone. And you of all people have no reason to hold anything against me, you never even let yourself open up to me.” Your gaze softened and you took a step towards him, holding your fists behind your back and pouting up at him. “Why won’t you let me in, Crosshair?”

Again, he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here for this.”

“Something tells me you did,” you answered. “Here I am, what do you want with me?”

“Nothing,” Crosshair nearly spat the word out.

You raised a brow. No one in that party could deny how insightful you were, not even him.

Crosshair scoffed again. “Fine, I’ll bite.”

“Please do,” you couldn’t resist the urge to say.

“Maybe I didn’t like the way the others were making fools out of themselves for your attention,” Crosshair glared. “It was pathetic to watch.”

“Ah,” you crossed your arms, nodding slowly. “So you’re jealous.”

“Fuck, no,” Crosshair smirked. “I just wouldn’t be caught dead being a complete idiot like that.”

“So you aren’t jealous?” You smirked back.

“No.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to stab someone?” Your smirk widened.

You’d cornered him, and Crosshair hated that. He was used to always having the upper hand, the higher ground, to being on top of everything. Nothing could ever surprise him, and when it did, it only meant he’d screwed up. The fact that you had just done that in the most leisurely of settings made him want to puke.

“Forget this,” he said, his silhouette beginning to turn around.

“I didn’t take you for the type to run away, Crosshair,” you said as your hands went over to your hips and you shifted your weight onto your left side, emphasizing the curves of your silhouette.

Crosshair faced you again, his gaze darkening at the little pose you’d adopted. You noticed his eyes running down your body, but when they met yours again, his gaze hardened.

“Fuck you,” he said, without hesitating.

You scoffed, looking at him from head to toe as well. “Fuck me yourself, you coward. I’d like to see if you can.”

He scoffed, his thin lips curving into a smile as he made his way towards you painfully slowly. Hovering in front of you, he took his fingers up to your chin, tilting your face up, making your breath hitch despite your witty exterior.

“You better be damn serious about that, doll,” Crosshair purred with hungry eyes.

“What, did I stutter?” Your breath shook as you whispered, and your hand snaked up his abdomen and felt his chest over the black shirt he wore. “What other way do I have to tell you I want this?”

The hand that was on your chin traveled back and down to cup the side of your neck, firm, but never hard enough to hurt you. Crosshair’s fingertips rested gently on your nape, and his other hand went up and joined the first in perfect symmetry. He pressed his body closer to yours, never breaking eye contact with you, and your heart beat so fast you were afraid he’d be able to hear it through your chest. He was devastatingly handsome, looming over you, watching you with lustful eyes foreboding passion. It didn’t matter where you were. It didn’t matter if there were people outside—they were enjoying their own night, they didn’t have to be involved in what only concerned you and Crosshair. All that mattered was the sensation of his hands on your skin, your hands over his chest, and the heat beginning to boil low in your stomach.

You half-expected another snarky remark, another sneer coming from Crosshair just to test the waters, but you basked in the mercy of the satisfaction that came when Crosshair finally crashed his lips down on yours. He stepped towards you and you stepped backwards, stumbling into the bathroom for him to lock the door behind him when you were both already inside. The music continued to boom from the party outside, as did the cheers and the laughter from everyone blissfully ignorant of the fire catching between you and the marksman. You didn’t have to worry about being heard.

You blindly walked backwards with your fists tugging at Crosshair’s shirt, your mind swarming with the concept of him as he devoured your lips with luscious kisses and mischievous nibbles. You felt your back bump into the wall next to the sink, and he pressed you onto it, letting you feel the erection growing under his pitch-black boxer bathing suit. You whimpered at the hardness and let your hands travel up his chest and around his shoulders until the tips of your fingers found his silver hair, which you twirled and tugged hoping to get a sound from him. Crosshair pleased you by letting out a low grunt and grew more passionate with every tug you gave to his hair.

One of the hands that was on your neck traveled down to your waist and kneaded your flesh with his fingertips, freeing your neck for him to take his kisses down to that sensitive skin he so badly wanted to mark. You shuddered when you first felt Crosshair suck on your neck, and you were astounded at his ease to find your sweetest spot. He nibbled and sucked such that you were certain there would be a maroon mark on your skin, and you enjoyed every second of it. You were enjoying the idea of coming out of that bathroom with that mark on your neck for everyone to see, and something told you Crosshair would get a kick of it as well, parading you in front of everyone else to show them how it’s really done.

When he was finished with your neck, Crosshair moved down your body leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles whilst feeling every inch of your body he could, including your hardened nipples over the fabric of your swimsuit, until he was on his knees in front of you. His hands greedily squeezed the flesh of your buttcheeks as he focused his kisses on your lower abdomen, just above the line where your shawl and the bottom of your bathing suit began. Unwilling to wait much longer to finally taste you, Crosshair curled his fingers around your bathing panties and pulled them down your legs with ease. You stepped out of them for him to hand them to you for you to hold in one hand, and when your other hand went to undo your top, he was quick to stop you.

“No, doll,” Crosshair purred. “You’re keepin’ that on.”

You giggled at him in response, and by his actions, he didn’t intend for you to remove that shawl either. Part of you would have preferred for Crosshair to have already been shirtless at this point, but any sort of thought faded when Crosshair took one of your legs and wrapped it around his back—it was only until then you became aware that your aching cunt was finally exposed to him.

Crosshair split the fabric of your shawl and placed it over your hips to keep it out of the way; he held your butt with one hand to keep you steady while he used his index and thumb fingers on his other hand to lift the hood of your clit. Your mind barely had a second to ponder on the fact that he knew what he was doing, and when you felt his tongue begin to brush over the pearl of your clit, your whole world faded. A deep moan escaped you, and your head fell back to the wall as your chest heaved at every sensation Crosshair gifted you with. You slipped farther from sanity and nearer into bliss, feeling he’d tip you over the edge in an obscenely small amount of time.

Switching between luscious kissing and precise sucking, Crosshair turned you from confident temptress to whimpering mess, pleased at the idea of having you at his mercy. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, and your hand reached down to find his hair again, twirling and tugging at his beautiful silver locks. You drew a moan from Crosshair, and its vibrations resonated deep within your flesh, finally finishing you off. Your already helpless moaning turned into pleading mewls as the pleasure that focused on your clit exploded into beautiful flames invading every corner of your body. Your muscles tensed as you squirmed, knowing it was only Crosshair’s grip keeping you upright. You were oblivious to the amount of times you whimpered his name, you only had the headspace to rut your hips against him, as if you weren’t feeling enough mind-erasing pleasure already.

You wanted more. You wanted his fullness, his touch. You wanted him.

Crosshair emerged from between your legs as if he were coming up for air after a long swim. You were dazzled, panting in the aftermath of every wave of pleasure you’d just felt, but you managed to look down and see him smirking proudly. Crosshair grunted as he stood up, towering over you again, and just when you were beginning to make sense of the world around you again, you saw him pulling down his bathing shorts to reveal a long, hard erection waiting just for you.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, making him chuckle with pride.

“Got room for some more?” Crosshair asked.

You nodded frantically, and without hesitation, Crosshair firmly grasped your ass and lifted you, resting part of your weight on the sink beside you. You clung to him, needily wrapping your legs around his waist, and he could only hum at the sight, pleased. After the painful wait, you finally felt Crosshair sliding himself into you, hissing at the initial stretch of your flesh only for you to moan when it became the most incredible sensation you’d ever experienced.

And Crosshair took it from there. Holding you firmly, he took care of every movement. Your arousal made it easier for him to slip in and out of you at whatever speed he desired, and you could tell he wasn’t planning on putting anything off. He was quick, accurate, decisive, grunting low and seductive into your ear with every few thrusts into your hips. Your nails clawed into his upper back, moaning deeply as you tightened your legs around him as much as you could, and it heightened the sensations you felt.

As he continued to fuck deep into you, Crosshair made eye contact with you for a moment, his cocky exterior suddenly becoming caring, even soft. The thought of your prior conversation entered your mind—how long had he felt that way for you? How long had you been suppressing your own desires for him?

Now that you were in his arms, feeling all the pleasure he could give you, you were certain you were where you needed to be.

A tender moan of his name escaped you just before you felt the pleasure expand through your body again. The moans induced by this second orgasm were far louder and embarrassingly more lustful than those of the first, and Crosshair thrust his hips faster into you as he fisted your hair and gave it a light tug. Your vision went white as you succumbed to the pleasure, to him, until you felt the heat of his release inside you followed by soft, low-pitched moans that sealed every one of your feelings for him.

Carefully, he set you down, and once he was sure that your feet were firm on the ground, Crosshair went limp in front of you. His arms were the only thing that remained strong as he caged you to the wall, panting to recover his breath in tandem with you. His lips were close to yours, and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to cup his face and kiss him gently. Crosshair kissed you back without a hesitation, retrieving his hands from the wall to place them over your wrists, pressing you deeper to him.

“You never had to be jealous, Crosshair,” you whispered.

“Don’t blame me,” he panted, “for getting a little unhinged at the thought of someone else trying to satisfy you.”

“Hey, if this is the result, I’ll take it any day,” you winked. “I should have known a tease and a challenge was all it took.”

Crosshair smirked at you and let his hands travel down to your waist, straightening his back and lifting your feet up with him. “Wanna show off your hickey?”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Crosshair chuckled and pecked your lips, setting you down on the floor again and pulling up his bathing suit again. “Come.”

You put the bottom of your bathing suit on and followed him out of the refresher with your arm linked in his, ready for all the stares you were about to receive. Crosshair would definitely show them all, and you never would have fathomed the idea of parading a fresh hickey in front of a group of men who were flirting with you minutes earlier, but if that love hadn’t made you a bit crazy, you wouldn’t have been doing it right.

[elioslover]

Green-Eyed Monster- Harry Styles x Reader (kiss prompt).

[Premise: Harry has been pining over his best friend's older sister for as long as he can recall. Here's some angst when the band goes on hiatus].

Prompts: "You're jealous, just admit it, you want to be the one kissing me." // “If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.” 

Word count: 2.6k.

More Grapejuice / Other Writing

🍷 the guest 🍷

There is no reason for you to feel as bent out of shape as you are in this very moment, zoned out of a conversation with an old friend because standing behind her is the man himself- leaning against the balcony with a collection of adoring guests gathering near, Harry Styles. 

Harry Styles; whose boyband had just announced a hiatus. Harry Styles; is properly back in his hometown for the first time in half a decade. Acting- as you deem- far too nonchalant for someone as global as he seemed to be. He had simply slipped back into his old groove as if no time had passed at all. 

But all you can think about is how much time has passed. Harry seems almost unrecognizable- hair and tattoos only increasing in length and number. It’s only when his face takes intervals to crinkle with glee- smile cheesing, eyes squinting with joy- that you see the Harry you’ve known so long it feels as if life never existed before him. 

Even as his life is about to change completely- a whole new chapter challenging his past and now his future- Harry seems to have little reservation about embracing happiness. Perhaps his nonchalance is the reason your observation stirs into frustration and confusion, causing a sort of panic you were sure to have never felt prior. Who is Harry Styles now? 

Then again, your sudden distaste may also be attributed to the adoring attention he has been receiving all night- particularly that of the beautiful people who were visibly blessed with the chance to praise and pet him… And they were indulgently taking advantage of the opportunity. 

Harry, by the looks of it was eagerly lapping it up, happily reciprocating touches and even looking at some of them with a gaze you had once noticed when it was dedicated to yours truly. 

He definitely isn't a teenager anymore, and it dawns on you how impactful and influential his introduction to stardom had been. 

Where were these thoughts even coming from? Your mind never wavered to the thought of Harry unless a One Direction song came on in public or Jack dropped him in conversation. 

All the questions you had never pondered were causing your brain to swell, your body stuck in a frozen frenzy of how much has changed- for all of you- starting with the obscene and sudden assessment of his features- had you ever considered him as anything other than just… Harry? Has he always been so pretty? 

All of those thoughts shatter as you raise your glass for a sip and across the room, Harry’s arm wraps around an unknown auburn-headed woman’s waist- which, at the least, makes your stomach clench and at the most, has you tilting your head back to empty the glass in one desperate swallow. 

Without consideration, you hastily dismiss the person still animatedly engaging in a one-sided conversation and turn your back on the oddly upsetting scene happening against the balcony railings. 

Ignoring the high possibility of tripping, agitation carries you to the kitchen- abandoned and almost silent in contrast to the party vibing merely meters away- and you immediately get ahold of the nearest bottle of chilled champagne, filling your flute to the brim and have a hearty sip before finally settling, taking a deep breath, trying to untangle your thoughts- hopefully rid yourself of them for good. 

A couple minutes- what sounds like the length of a song- pass before you feel grounded and sane enough to rejoin the festivities. So, with a deep breath and a final sip for good luck, your faithful docs exit the kitchen and trail into the chatty confinements of the living room.

Lo and behold, Harry Styles is everywhere you go, practically blocking your path with his body pressing up against Auburn from outside, and he looks mere moments away from engaging her in a kiss. 

That silly sickly feeling threatens to return if you stay a moment longer, so your stare meets the floor and your feet pick up their pace, heading directly for the barricade that is Harry. 

His eyes bore into your own with a fervour that you will never forget and for a moment he has you pondering how such a magnificent emerald forest, framed by the wispiest of lashes, could have gone unnoticed for so long- how had you granted his adoring gaze such little attention? 

🍷 the host 🍷

Harry is in two minds about this evening- he can’t help but indulge in the praises and doting that showers him from each and every direction, his pulse is racing with ecstatic at the relief of finally being home again. 

His fears of everything changing have long passed, leaving his worries at the door as he is embraced with excited and excessive welcomes from anyone and everyone who looks his way. 

With his oldest and best friend, Jack, by his side once more, Harry feels no different than he did at that farewell party at least five years prior, enthusiastically greeting familiar faces, accepting each praise with a gracious humbleness. 

But Harry can’t tell if humble is even an accurate definition anymore and it isn't long before he feels his social battery starting to stutter and it’s clearly time for a drink. 

By the end of drink number two, his body is as relaxed as his mind, and Harry is now encouraging the constant vying for his attention- his supposed importance- especially when it includes an array of beautiful people stroking his extremely inflated ego. 

Leaning against the balcony railing, Harry cradles a whisky in one hand and the waist of a dazzling woman in his other. He hasn't actually been listening to a word said around him, nodding every so often as the small group around him eagerly bantered on. 

He’s just happy to be here and doesn't think it could get any better until he spots the only thing on earth that could permanently put him on cloud nine- his greatest dream all wrapped up in the gorgeous physical being that is yours truly- and suddenly Harry feels as if all of the happiness he currently feels is merely an appetizer to the type of joy he could be feeling if he were only across the room staring into your eyes. 

Oddly enough, your eyes are already set on him, suspiciously staring him down with an unreadable gaze that fills his stomach with an odd sense of unease. You look older- the same, but older- and something about that freaks Harry out and reminds him of his own age, how different things actually are now, even if it doesn't feel that way. 

And as if he were seeing you for the very first time, Harry cannot stop staring with bewildered admiration- his eyes darting from your trusty Docs to the extremely fashionable clothing you donned, sternly studying the dips and curves of your body before settling back on your grumpy, but heinously beautiful face. 

He felt it unreasonable- borderline evil- how much better you seemed to get with each interaction, how the hell was he to garner your attention now when he was already hardly capable of doing so for the last decade?

After you disappear into the sanctuary of the kitchen, Harry is too antsy to keep it together any longer and he finds his legs blindly following after you. 

He’s hardly in the hallway by the time his female company comes from outside- he didn’t bother learning her name. Her auburn hair was identification enough- and she caught up and captured his bicep between her cold hand. 

She ascends to her tippy toes, puckered lips finding their place just below Harry’s earlobe, her breath fanning over his sharp jawline as she seductively slips sensual suggestions his way, her free hand trailing up along his torso, fingernails tapping his chest. 

For a good moment, Harry truly does start to forget what he had gone on the hunt for, easily distracted by the shower of affection drizzling all along his body by the unknown woman. 

But, with a sudden shock, the kitchen door violently swings open to reveal your rigid figure, eyes furrowed and lips trapped fearfully between your gritted teeth.  

You are the spitting image of a deer in headlights, staring up at Harry with a look that has him stopping in his tracks, realizing that fate has struck again and he has his elusive person right where he wants you. 

Except, his plan to finally confront you had not included a third party and Harry could feel his face swelling with red blotches of blushy embarrassment. 

For a reason he can’t pinpoint, shame creeps its way into the pit of his stomach, fists clenched as his body turns to brick, and Auburn, still semi-latched on, is becoming so suffocating he feels like a lobster about to boil inside out. 

Rudely, and far too obviously, Harry disarms himself, shrugging his body from beneath Auburn’s grip and muttering some dismissive promise of meeting up with her later on- praying that his words are muffled enough that you don’t hear them. 

You aren't stupid though, and by the height your brow manages to raise in suspicion, Harry confirms that his words did not go unnoticed. 

His dismissal of Auburn seems fine by her as she smiles hopefully, giving him a swift kiss on his cheek before slipping past Harry and disappearing back into the party. 

Unfortunately, he isn’t surprised as you attempt to pretend this interaction was even occurring by disconnecting your shared stares, glancing your focus to the living room, and planning an escape route. But there is no choice other than to pass Harry and there is zero chance he will let you get away with it. 

Harry steps and then tilts his body closer, hoping to encourage you to do the same, but you stay put and only glare up at him expectantly and impatiently. He ignores your frigidity as if it were just a farce- it is- instead his smile turns to a full-on grin, reaching his eyes and crinkling cutely at the corners, and it spreads along his features with a fondness so fierce that you find yourself working overtime to avoid your face from breaking out into the same smile. 

“Avoiding me, hm?” He muses with a precious pout, “Y’know that hurts my feelings, klutz.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You do it every single time.”

Arms folding across your chest, face frowning with the preparation of upping your defensiveness in the name of dismissing Harry- just like old times,

“I see you enjoy lying for fun now.” 

Harry nearly scoffs but it projects as a sly smirk and points it at your painful scowl, 

“Y’do. Dipping in and out of patios… kitchens… Yet you always meet me in the hallway.” 

The stomach-knotting realisation that this is factual- how many times had this happened before? How many times would it happen again? Have it your way, and this will be the last time,

“Meeting and cornering are not the same thing.” 

“Stop tryna be smart.” Harry slightly, but softly snaps as his lips smack together.

“You’re ruder than I remember.” 

All snippiness leaves as soon as it comes, Harry sinks back into a swell of adoring amusement, 

“You rate?” 

“Ignoring your guests is a party fowl.” Definite diversion on your part. 

“Avoiding the host is a party fowl.” He counters. 

Weakly attempting to walk past him, only renders your back pressed up against the red abstract wallpaper. He remains put- which, to you, is rather unnerving- and upset is racing along your prickling skin, 

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you.” 

“Why don’t I believe you?” He edges closer with curiosity. 

“Just because you’re used to people throwing themselves at you doesn't mean I'm avoidant." You spit and suddenly, he’s so close. 

“They don’t all do that.” 

“Sure, Harry.” 

Have you two ever been this near before? Most certainly, but you could always chalk that up to intoxicated confusion- at least on your end had it ever felt this… intense? Is there any worldly justification for the suspicious stirring of curiosity now that he has so calmly and tenderly crossed the threshold of your personal space. 

Harry knows he has never felt as satisfied as he does whenever your bodies threaten to blend into one, but for perhaps the first time, he thinks you may consider this palpitating chemistry as something more than a silly game. 

But, he does so fondly enjoy the game, and if he pushes even a moment longer, Harry knows your patience will wither and guide you away from him for good. He uses a tried and true tactic,

“I like your hair.” He does. 

“Yours is like longer than mine.” It is.

“D’you like it?” Harry is deep within your space. 

“It’s alright.” You shrug, lying through your damn teeth. And you could leave it at that, but the bitterness has clearly taken over, “I’m sure the groupies are creaming, though.”

Hell, Harry has missed the pleasure of being in your preference, how electric and alive his body expels excitement and the anticipatory flames you will surely attack him with. He loves it- hates how much he does, can’t help but prod and provoke, 

“I can tell you’re agitated.” 

“Does that make you feel special?” 

“Can’t put my finger on why…” He ponders- Harry’s missing context, the type you are unwilling to confess- the only evidence he has is your pointed stare flickering with fury- wait, envy? “Oh.” 

“Oh, what?” 

“Oh, you’re jealous.” 

Your throat chokes on your stomach as you croak out a spluttered, “What?” as Harry’s chest brushes your shoulder blade and his spearmint-scented breath fans across your neck, 

 “I think you heard me just fine.” 

“You are delusional.” 

Is he, though? Has jealousy been the reason for your distaste and discomfort this evening? Are you as delusional as you believe Harry to be? He seriously thinks so, skin tickling your own,  

“Maybe… Still think I’m right.” 

“Fuck off, Harry.” 

He won’t though. Hand coming up to play with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger as his righteous gaze bores into your own- frozen and wide with bewilderment- and finally, his lips threaten to brush the back of your ear, 

 "You're jealous. Just admit it. You want to be the one kissing me."

“No-” 

“Never looked at me like this before..”

You know, and you hate that he kdoes too. You should leave. Now. But with a compulsion too fierce to fight off, a culmination of fascination that ignores your conviction of moving away,

“I don’t-”

“If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.” 

Harry says it so matter-of-factly that it shocks your body, and brain, into returning to reality and those succulent tingles swirling in your stomach twist sourly, threatening to suffocate you inside out. 

With disappointment that is mostly directed at yourself, your sudden enamourment switches to the act of pressing your palm to Harry’s sternum and pushing sternly until he stumbles back in surprise. You cannot risk leaving without gifting him a cruel and crushing tongue-lashing, 

“You’re a frat boy in the body of a former pop star. I would never want to kiss someone like you.” 

You slip past him with zero resistance, no consideration for confirming his reaction as your back turns to Harry. 

Well, Harry thinks he’s glad you grant him some privacy because the guttural disappointment melting his face into a frown is shameful enough.

He doesn’t understand the sudden stinging of his tear ducts, the shrill ringing in his ears. Suddenly, Harry doesn’t quite feel like celebrating his return. 

Head bows as he carries his hurt and frustration to the confinements of the kitchen. It’s about time to spiral. 

🍷

You can send me a couple numbers and a trope/dynamic to write about! (18, 26, 31, 32, 35,) em. Xo 💞

[spacebarbarianweird]

Dadstarion prompt:

Caretaker takes the kid to a fair, playground, restaurant or shopping, just spending the day and having fun together

Ha! Take that. Pure fluff. What could possibly go wrong??

Synopsis: Tiriel and Astarion take Alethaine to a fair.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff, a snippet into the future

Another fluffy thing I have written! And there is also a snippet into the distant future with adult Tiri who hasn't inherited her mother's macabre nature!

Alethaine's age - 12-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Guide on How To Skin Monsters

Tiriel stops at the daggers’ stall. All of them look rather dull and Tiriel decides to search for something better for Astarion. Besides, he prefers to choose weapons for himself and Tiriel can always get something else – a book, jewelry, or a shirt. He always huffs when she brings him gifts, but she knows he is grateful for those little reminders of her care.

“Looking for something?” A merchant, a halfling woman, asks.

“Nothing in particular,” Tiriel says.

The halfling is definitely in the mood for talking and starts gossiping about a feud between two noble human houses, a serious plague “originated by giants” and someone’s wife cheating with an ork.

“Oh, and have you heard? There was a murder in Secomber! The whole family was slaughtered and by whom? A dhampir!”

Tiriel takes her eyes off the daggers.

“Yes! A half-vampire! Can you imagine sleeping with a vampire? But I think their mother was assaulted. Anyway, the dhampir grew up and slaughtered the whole family! Those half-undead are merciless cruel creatures, and they say there are so many of them!”

“Yeah… cruel monsters they are,” Tiriel mutters.

She heard of the slaughter, but there were no dhampirs or vampires involved. Just a young man possessed by a dryad. He was hanged a week later, but someone started spreading rumors his mother fucked a vampire and that’s why her child grew up so bloodthirsty. 

Tiriel feels pale hands hugging her waist from behind. Alethaine presses her face against her back – she is 12 but she is still cuddly as a little child.

“Oh, is this your daughter? Such an adorable little girl. How old is she?”

“Alethaine,” Tiriel touches her fingers.

“I am twelve,” she says, trying not to betray her fangs.

“Oh… I am sorry… didn’t notice she was an elf.” The merchant apologizes and then proceeds  to tell other gossip.  

“Have a nice day,” Tiriel says, taking Alethaine’s hand.

“You too! And beware the dhampirs!”

“Beware the dhampirs my ass,” Tiriel says, moving further away from the obnoxious halfling.

“I can bite her,” Alethaine suggests. She is twelve, but elves mature slower than humans and half-elves and Tiriel notices her daughter sometimes behaves like a younger child.

“No, we are not biting people we don't like.”

“Dad wouldn’t mind if I bit her!”

“Hm, good thing it’s daylight then!” Tiriel rubs Alethaine’s ear. She knows her daughter too well not to notice the merchant’s words upset her. 

Cruel merciless creatures? Alethaine cries her eyes out every time someone dies in the books she reads! Well, she mostly sympathizes with dragons and monsters – but also with orphan children, victims of arranged marriages and curses. 

And little dead animals. 

Little dead animals are a whole different story. It’s been three years, but Alethaine still feels sorry about an albino kitten killed by a stranger. The dhampir accidentally resurrected the pet and now Tiriel and Astarion also face the issue of raising a necromancer.

“Hey, don’t be sad!” Tiriel leans to a little dhampir. “Do you want anything?”

Alethaine doesn't answer. She stops by the book stall completely enchanted by a huge black volume covered in leather. 

How to Skin Monsters.

Aletaine immediately flips the pages, and Tiriel sees intricate and creepy pictures of the insides of different beasts and monsters. She’d fought many of them in her lifetime (beholders in the Underdark are still one of her worst memories), but never ever did she want to look at their remains, let alone study them.

“Hey, don’t touch it!'' The merchant tries to take the book away from Alethaine’s hands, but the dhampir keeps holding it with her iron grip. “I think this book is rather dark for a little lady like you.”

“Mum, look, the cover is made of human skin,” Alethaine casually says. “No. It’s half-elf actually.”

“No it isn’t!” The merchant protests. “It’s… wolfskin!”

Liar, Tiriel realizes. She has good perception skills, and the merchant lies. And the dhampir necromancer has already passed the verdict. 

Alethaine puts the book away and takes another one – a green volume with letters in Espruar. 

“Is it just a collection of stories or the real guide on Feywild?’” Alethaine asks. “People who have never messed with fey write all sorts of fairytale stuff about pink unicorns and fairies who grant wishes.” She opens the book which is written with trembling handwriting. “Oh, I see. Looks like a feverish nightmare. So the writer has been there.”

The book merchant looks at Tiriel with a facial expression she knows too well. 

What crypt did you find this child in?

“I have some ballads and traveler guides. Maybe...it is more for your age?” he asks

“Travelers guide on what places?”

“Icewind Dale, but it’s a rather uncomfortable read…”

“I’ve read about Icewind Dale,” suddenly something else attracts her attention and she points at a small book with a dragon on its cover. “Show me this!”

The merchant sighs in relief and reaches for the storybook. Tiriel looks at the pages – even though she still experiences issues with reading, she sees that it's just an adventure story about knights, princes, dragons, and treasure hunting.

Something her daughter stopped reading when she was five or six.

“I will take this too,” Alethaine declares.

“Eighty silver for all three,” the merchant says.

Too much, Tiriel thinks. Alethaine frowns but doesn’t try to bargain. For some reason, she is very shy when it comes to arguments.

“Thirty silver,” Tiriel intervenes. “And we are not telling anyone about the half-elf skin you’ve bound the book with.”

“It’s not made of anyone’s skin!”

“I can hear her screams,” Alethaine whispers, flipping the book pages. “They flayed her when she was still alive!”

The merchant gulps. Tiriel chuckles. So, this is true and the merchant knew it.

“All right. Thirty,” he mutters and Alethaine happily gives him the silver coins. 

Alethaine puts the books in her black bag and wishes the merchant good night. The man mutters something not appropriate for children’s ears.

“Did you catch the scent of the skin or it’s more like your necromancy skills?” Tiriel asks, taking her daughter’s hand as they stand by the stall with needles and threads. 

She shrugs. “I-I don’t know. Maybe both.”

“Do you know if Dad needs something to sew?” Tiriel still can’t really tell apart shades of the same color and all needles look the same to her. 

“Take the black threads,” Alethaine says, touching the samples of fabric. “He’s always out of them.”

Tiriel nods. She doesn’t know why and when Astarion decided to make all his daughter’s wardrobe black, but here they are. Alethaine got from black onesies to black dresses, from black nappies to black skirts, gloves, and coats. Only her shoes and boots aren’t made by Astarion - and they are as pitch dark as everything else.

A few hours later, at sunset, they sit on the grass outside the market. It’s a beautiful summer sunset and Tiriel adores the light. Alethaine sits on her traveling cape and takes out one of her new books. 

“Interesting?”

“Uh-um,” she nods, completely taken away.

Tiriel smiles to herself. She’s never been a stranger to violence and dark things – if you faint at the sight of a blood sacrifice, you won’t survive in the wilderness. But having a child like this takes everything to another level.

Death, dark arts, corpses – they have  a special appeal to Alethaine, the same one Tiriel feels towards fights.

The sun sets and Tiriel sits beside Alethaine. Darkvision allows her to see in gray colors and Tiriel sees a picture of the monster inside.

“All right, now I understand who all these people were who hired me to bring them certain parts of the beasts I killed.”

“Dad is coming,” she says. “Or another vampire, but I think Dad scared all of them away.”

Tiriel smiles. “Good thing vampires hate the presence of each other.” She stands up and approaches the edge of the hill. Yes, Alethaine is right – Astarion has left his daylight shelter in the nearby inn. She can see his silhouette from the distance – white hair and black armor she can’t mix with anyone else.

She waves to him and he quickens his steps. 

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs in her ear the moment he hugs her. Astarion pecks her cheek and Tiriel rubs his left ear.

“Dad! Look what I’ve bought!” 

Tiriel thinks Alethaine will show him the anatomy book, but, instead, she hands him the adventure story.

Astarion studies the first page, then another. Tiriel watches them carefully.

“I just don’t get it,” Alethaine admits. “Is it about how to enter the thieves’ guild or how to smuggle drugs?”

“None,” Astarion returns her the book. “It’s about how to find a job as a bounty hunter in Neverwinter.”

“Oh, I misread the symbols then,” Alethaine pouts.

“Wait, the book is in Thieves Cant?” Triel asks.

“Yes. Hidden deep under snotty stories,” Astarion answers. “And what are these two monstrosities?”

Alethaine proudly opens the anatomy book as Astarion studies the Feywild one. Tiriel barely prevents herself from laughing as she sees Astarion cringing at the pictures. Vampire or not, he saw so many disgusting and cruel things he hated looking at them. 

Then Alethaine yawns. 

“Let’s go home,” Tiriel says. It will take them till sunrise to return to Daggerlake. If they don't hurry they will need to set up a camp for the daylight - or leave Astarion behind which Tirel absolutely hates to do.

It’s not like it’s a big deal right now – thirty-two years since he gained his freedom, he has nothing to fear. More than that, Tiriel is sure there is simply no other monster in the area who could be a threat to Astarion. He is a vampire, an undead, a skilled rogue, a dangerous assassin.

But when he is alone, the nightmares slowly crawl back. The loneliness fuels his memories and there are so many of them. Thirty-two years are simply not enough. Astarion can handle that too – he’s learned to. But Tiriel doesn’t want him to face mental struggles if it can be avoided.

Alethaine walks in front of them and Tiriel takes Astarion’s hand in hers. They are her little family – everything she’s ever wished for. 

She looks at Astarion and notices his lips are squeezed and there is some anxiety in his eyes.

Hunger.

“Go for a hunt, we will wait for you”.

“Nonsense, let’s return home sooner.”

Tiriel doesn’t push it. They agreed years ago that Alethaine isn’t to see him dining on her mother (because it’s absolutely a sexual thing and must remain behind closed doors) and also that she shouldn’t see him feed on animals (because her dhamprisim might get awoken – blood will tempt her and they don’t want their daughter to become more a vampire then she already is).

Of course, she isn't stupid, she knows her father drinks blood. She often sees bite marks on Tiriel when she forgets to cover them – but the process remains out of sight.

It’s already sunrise when they reach Daggerlake and Astarion walks forward not to risk staying in the sun.

By the time they return home, Alethaine rushes upstairs to prepare for sleep. She sleeps a lot, even more than a human would – and Tiriel wonders how much dhampirism affects her sleeping habits.

“So, is the book really about how to be a mercenary?” Tiriel asks closing the door to the bedroom

Astarion has already put off his doublet and now sits on the bed watching Tiriel.

He waits.

“Yes. It was a guide on how to find people who will give her a job as a mercenary,” he slowly answers as if he had to concentrate on speaking. His eyes are focused on her neck. 

“And can she read this book?”

“She thought it was about smugglers and thieves. Her skills aren’t that good.”

Tiriel approaches Astarion and he tugs her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.

Astarion is no longer a sweet caring elf – his predatory side is on the loose and he pierces her skin with his nails as the fangs are looking for the vein.

Tiriel wraps her hands around his neck and lets herself drown in painful pleasure. 

“Take as much as you need,” she murmurs. “I love you.”

She feels like falling into the warm dark void and, when she almost crosses the border of no return, the tender hands let her go and she finds herself on the bed with Astarion carefully applying a bandage on her fresh bite mark.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing her with his blood-stained lips.

“Will you stay with me when I sleep?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Besides Alethaine has occupied the bathroom – she isn't getting out any time soon”

“Oh… and I forgot…” Tiriel points at her bag. “I’ve bought you some black threads and new needles.”

Astarion kisses her cheek. “Such a caring and thoughtful wild girl. Now I have something to occupy myself with while you are asleep.” He takes her nightshirt from the floor. “Do you have anything in mind? I noticed you’ve ripped it.”

“Me? Astarion, you rip my clothes all the time!”

He unfolds the shirt showing the ripped collar. “Yeah, I agree. My fault. So, what patch do you want?”

“Maybe a dragon? A black one?”

Astarion covers her with a blanket – the one she uses when she sleeps alone – and sits on the floor with the shirt and the needle.

“I have a daughter who likes seeing monsters’ inside-outs and a wife who likes murdering monsters. Can someone in this family enjoy nice and cute things?” He pouts.

“Imagine Alethaine having a child who enjoys such things. She will pout then, ‘no one in her family has taste for macabre’”.

Astarion chuckles, and Tiriel wraps herself in the blanket. 

Safe. She feels safe. 

And loved.

**

Sewing has always helped Astarion to concentrate. It’s been centuries since he needed to shut the darkness up. Memories of his enslavement, memories of the misery have faded away and feel like a distant nightmare. 

But habits never truly go, and Astarion enjoys sewing patches and repairing clothes even though the old purpose of that process has long gone.

“You know, for someone who is an elf and was raised as an elf, you are very messy,” Astarion says looking at the ripped cape. It looks like it was chewed by a tarrasque.

“It’s not my fault! I was careful!” Tiri objects. She is making new arrows (as she lost the whole quiver while running from a particularly nasty behir in the Underdark the previous day).

Astarion chuckles. Tiri, his granddaughter, showed up at his place deep in the Fairgheight Range five years ago. Red-haired like her grandmother, she was eager to see the world beyond the Isle of Evermeet – and she still doesn’t show any desire neither to return to her parents nor leave him be and travel alone. 

“What patches do you want?” Astarion asks and takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack. 

“Well, I am an adult independent woman…” Tiri starts.

“You are thirty and you are an elf. You are basically a child.”

“Hm, you were a magistrate and mum would work for smugglers using her necromantic skills. Barely a child activity.”

“So?”

“I want a unicorn patch,” Tiri finally admits. “Or a butterfly. Don’t laugh, ar’o’su!”

“I don’t, damia,” Astarion finds white threads. “Besides, Alethaine has never been fond of cute and nice things.”

“Mum has her own idea of what is nice and what is cute,” Tiri touches a thin tiara on her hair. While all Tiri’s clothes are made according to Wood Elves traditions, her father’s ancestors, the tiara is pitch black and with a small skull in the center. It definitely belonged to Alethaine and then she just passed it to her only daughter. 

Tiri puts the new arrows on the ground and lies on her bedroll to reverie. Her drake, Aurix, immediately nestles on her chest like a cat.

Astarion casts a glance at his granddaughter. She has a certain similarity to Tiriel – and Astarion knows she would have loved her. But half-elves have such an offensive short life span in comparison with elves she had no chance to see little Tiri. At the same time, her facial features are her mother’s and sometimes she speaks like her. There is something else, something unfamiliar – Tiri’s father and their ancestors.

And she loves cute and nice things - and cringes at the sight of monsters’ inside-outs. Necromancy scares Tiri and she admits she’s never been to her mother’s dungeons just because of how uncanny it was for her.  And elves would often joke that their “witch-queen” just kidnapped Tiri because no way someone like Alethaine could give birth to such a sweet young woman. 

Astarion pierces the fabric with the needle.

“Well, so be it, a unicorn.”

-- Tag list

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[aesthetictarlos]

BuckTommy prompt: something with dogs ✨

Buck and Tommy are strolling around the park, enjoying their Saturday off and the sunny day. They're basking in a comfortable silence, their shoulders brushing as they walk with their hands intertwined.

Buck's never been in this park before, so he widens his eyes as they reach a big pond, surrounded by green bushes, he spots a few ducks and even a swan in the distance. "Oh, baby, look at that!" He says excitedly, already reaching for his phone in his back pocket, trash to take some pictures.

"I knew you'd love it," Tommy replies, kissing his cheek and disentangling their fingers so that Buck can fully jump into photographer mode.

Buck smiles brightly, walking around the pond and crouching here and there to get the right angle for his pictures. He loves nature and when some colourful flowers draw his attention, he gets lost in capturing all their beautiful shades.

That is, until he hears Tommy's voice exclaiming, "Hi, cutie!" with a soft, delighted tone. He immediately turns his head to see what's going on, and he can practically feel his eyes re-shaping into two hearts as he sees his boyfriend kneeled on the grass, petting an adorable Samoyed who's eagerly lapping at his hand.

He melts on the spot. He knows Tommy loves animals and that he's a dog person, but knowing and seeing him being a softie with a puppy are two entirely different things. Tommy with puppies is a sight to behold, and he can't help but take a few pictures.

Buck can't tear his eyes away. Tommy giggles cheerfully as the dog wiggles its tail, clearly enjoying the attention and the cuddles, and then he starts rubbing between its ears, earning a joyful bark as his fingers card through the white, fluffy fur.

Tommy must feel his eyes on him, then, because he turns and smiles widely when he realizes he's being stared at. "C'mere, I want you to meet my friend!"

Buck chuckles, joining him. "Hey, you," he says to the dog, putting a hand in front of its nose. "I see that you've my boyfriend wrapped around your paw, uh?"

Tommy rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder and points to the woman standing a few feet away from them, talking on the phone and holding a pink leash. "She owns the coffee shop next to my place, that's how I meet this cutie here. Her name is Alaska and she really, really loves cuddles."

Buck softens, petting Alaska while his heart beats to a litany of I love you, I love you, I love you.

[imagines--galore]

||Written In The Stars||

Summary: You had met him in the forest. A meeting that left an impact on you, just as it did. Neither of you escaped unscathed from your encounter. At least your heart didn't. And after that fateful run-in, perhaps it was finally time to bring to light what was clearly written in the stars. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. None. A/N: When I tell you I swooned at the Cinderella bit? I mean I ADORE the live action Disney remake and the dance scene is just gorgeous. Hope you enjoyed it @kililove. Also I couldn't help it! You HAVE to watch that dance to envision the last part of this fic perfectly ok?!

The first time you met him had been a chance affair.

You had been running through the forest, wind whipping through your hair. It was quite the norm to find you racing through the trees of the forest you called home. There was just something freeing about it, with the adrenaline rushing through your body, the wind whipping through your hair, and the near endless shelter of the forest you adored with all your heart.

Lothlórien was truly a place to behold no matter the season. The leaves would dance with the wind, the trees would sing joyful tunes to the morning sun, and lullabies to the moon and stars at night. The flowers would sway in the breeze, the animals would play with no fear of being hunted or coming to any harm. If there were ever to be a place akin to Valinor in Middle-Earth, it would be your home.

As you cleared yet another obstacle in your path, you let out a laugh that echoed against the very leaves of the trees you passed. Your laugh was one of pure joy, of freedom and utter happiness. You felt like you would race off the edge of the world and even then you would keep running because who's to say the world ended there.

And perhaps it was that laugh that pulled him towards you, that compelled him to halt whatever he had been doing and his head to instead follow the sound of your laughter, echoing as you raced away.

Any other person would've dismissed it and went back to their task, but not this listener. He was curious. Curious to know who would laugh like that while racing through the trees. A laugh so full of joy in such dark times. Surely this person had only ever known joy and nothing more. Sorrow, hopelessness, loss, none of these words could ever be associated with a person with such a laugh.

Little did he know why you laughed so. He would come to know later, much later, all that you had suffered, all that you had lost, all that you would loose. But despite it all, you never lost your will to live, and live happily. Live to enjoy everything around you. From the smallest of flowers, to the grandest of trees, nature brought you a sense of joy that nothing ever had.

Well that is until you met him.

You saw him from the corner of your eyes, a figure of gold and green that ran a few paces to your right. He had given no indication for you to stop, not that you were about to. You kept running, hair flying behind you, skirts ripped to allow your legs better movement, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as you turned you gaze ahead.

For him you were something akin to a wild thing as you raced through the forest. Free and untamed, like the horses he had seen racing in the fields of Rohan. He was barely able to make out your face, and wanting to look at you properly moved to step in your path.

But you quickly evaded him, all but dancing out of his way, jumping over a fallen tree, and continuing.

And so began a little dance.

One where he would try to get you to stop, but you would always change course and dash off. You should've found it annoying, and perhaps a little alarming that an elf was chasing you. But you didn't.

In your heart of heart you somehow knew he meant no harm. You had even allowed yourself to laugh at his failed attempts, a laugh that only prompted him to increase his efforts tenfold.

And not just because he wanted to stop you. But because if his attempts would make you laugh so, then he would gladly do so over and over.

Just to hear that sweet sound again.

Perhaps Lothlórien had traces of old magic left, something that was effecting his mind.

As he rounded a large tree, intent on stopping you once more, he skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted him.

You stood at the very edge of a cliff, your back to him, gazing out at the near endless landscape as it sprawled in front of you. The setting sun cast the last of it's warm glow, the wind blowing softly, prompting you to inhale deeply, closing your eyes, and holding out your arms at your sides. Almost as if you were embracing the very beauty of the nature around you.

He stood a few paces behind you. The very scene would remain with him till the end of days was something akin to ethereal. For him, everything in that moment was just that, ethereal. But none more so then you.

He had no idea who you were. For all he knew, you could be a mirage created from the very deepest recesses of his heart. What he did know, was that the moment he had heard your laugh, before he had even laid eyes on you, he had begun to feel his soul slip away from him.

And when you finally, finally, turned your head ever so slightly to look at him over your shoulder, he felt the very essence of his soul, his fëa, leave him to bind itself to you forever.

While he struggled to keep his composure, given how intense the moment was for him, you couldn't help but wander if perhaps your heart was beating so fast because you had just been running, or because it was beating so fast that it was trying to tell you something.

To tell you that the elf who had run after you and beside you, was the other half of your fëa.

Neither of you spoke a word, not as the sun disappeared and the stars peeked out. Not as the forest around you began to come alive with the creatures of the night. Not even when the moon shone down, bathing her cold yet somehow gentle glow on the both of you.

You were each lost. Lost in each other. It was almost as if you could read his heart and mind, and he could do the same to you. You could see his bravery, his loyalty, his kindness, his weaknesses and strength. And him? He could see your empathy, your joy, your devotion, your fears and resilience.

You were the one to make the first move. One step forward. A movement that he matched. One foot in front of the other, the wind blowing softly, pushing your hair back from your faces, the moonlight allowing your elvish features to glow in the dark. You were both only three feet away.

Two.

One.

A brief pause where you were almost nose to nose, your eyes never leaving the other's.

Intense.

Wanting.

Passionate.

Adoration.

Heated.

How were you able to convey all that and more with just that one look, you had no idea.

But then it was over.

You walked past him, slowly picking up speed, until you were running once more.

And this time, he did not follow.

                                             ————————–

You never forgot him.

He never forgot you.

You knew him by name, he was a Prince after all, and a member of the Fellowship.

All he knew about you, was the color of your hair, how expressive your eyes had been, and how, in his eyes, you were the very image of perfection.

He did not follow you that night. Not when he could not make any promises. Not when he had a mission to see to.

Legolas had often wandered what awaited him beyond the destroying of the ring, should he survive. He had no desire to go back home. And while he had made plans to travel Middle-Earth with Gimli once Aragorn was King, it never felt right in his heart.

And as he walked out of the Citadel, where the newly crowned Aragorn, and his Queen Arwen, were dancing so joyfully, he began to envision his own mysterious lady. The one he had met in Lothlórien.

The Lady.

Who was never far from his thoughts.

Who occupied his heart.

Who held his entire soul and had no inclination of it.

He could still picture her so clearly in his mind, he mused as he walked past the blooming tree in the middle of the courtyard.

You standing there at the edge of the cliff. Unconsciously his gaze lifted to the very end of the walkway along which he strolled.

An elleth with y/h/c hair, strangely the same color the figure standing at the end of the walkway possessed.

A figure, dressed in a blue dress, a color that reminded him of open skies during the day and the twinkling stars at night.

.

.

.

.

He stopped.

His eyes widened.

His heart quickened.

His fëa rejoiced.

His feet catapulted him forward.

The figure had her arms open. And while the last time those arms had been open to embrace nature, this time they were open to embrace him.

And while the last time the both of you had walked past one another, wanting, no yearning, for the other, this time it was different.

You watched him dash closer, you stumbled a few steps forward, until finally, you had him in your arms.

Neither of you knew how long you stood there for. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years. Eons.

It was all the same.

"It would seem our meeting was written in the stars." His voice was low and gentle, prompting a warmth to race through your entire body as you hummed in agreement.

"The stars in my dreams were the ones who told me to come find you tonight." You responded, a dream you had had not so long ago coming to the forefront of your mind. "I was flying. On a Star. And it told me it would take me to you."

He joined your laughter, the both of you still holding each other close. Now though, he pulled back so he could look at you, his arms still wrapped around your waist, while yours laid over his shoulders.

"And here you are." He whispered, his gaze searching yours.

You gave a nod and a smile. "Here I am." You reassured him, leaning to press your forehead against his.

The music from the open door of the Citadel was perhaps what compelled him to lean back slightly. While your arms dropped to the side, one of his hands never left your back.

Your eyes never broke their intense stare as the both of you, slowly, began to dance to the song filtering from the Citadel.

You danced, and you danced, and you danced.

Your need to be close to him over-powered all else. His need to touch you overtook any sense of decorum he had.

Neither of you spoke a word, and yet you didn't think anything needed to be said. Not when your eyes spoke for you. Not when your Fëa sang to one another.

You were sure of what you felt for him, and he was sure that his heart belonged to you.

And as the new dawn greeted you with her warm glow, you finally allowed your eyes to close, an act he mirrored.

Before sealing that unspoken promise to never leave each other with a kiss that was more binding and irrevocable, then any vow a living being could make.

[happyhauntt]

𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘!

sentence prompts from the webseries 'carmilla'.

• "what makes them any different than i am?" "what makes any person sacred to another?"

• "they aren't mine. you are. to annoy, or not. to love, or not. to save, or not."

• "a certain amount of murder just comes with the territory."

• "do you miss me?" "like someone cut a hole in me."

• "you think i hid you here after everything because i don't care? because the thought of something happening to you doesn't make me feel like i can't breathe?"

• "maybe the world is about to end, but if it is, i want us to have something good to hold on to."

• "i mean, the story goes: you fall in love with a monster and then they stop being all monster-y! the story isn't just... fall in love with a monster. that would be a stupid story."

• "behold! vampire bait."

• "i know krav maga. i am a weapon."

• "is it some kind of terrifying chicken demon?"

• "i know you're not just doing it for me, but..." "don't be an idiot. of course i'm doing it for you."

• "i don't want to pretend that what i feel about you is some stupid, frothy thing that doesn't matter, because it is like the axis that my world turns on."

• "you did something terrible to her, didn't you?" "define terrible."

• "don't you look like a virgin sacrifice."

• "you kiss me and it cracks me open and all of my stupid, messy hopes come tumbling out in maybes and somedays and how is that fair?"

• "well, sorry my post-traumatic revelation was inconveniently timed for you."

• "have you ever considered that maybe 'hero' isn’t one thing that one person was supposed to be by themselves? that maybe, in this story, you are my hero and i'm your hero."

• "MURDER HER FOR CHRISTMAS!"

• "i don’t want that to be our story. okay? our story is that we made each other better. so we go together."

• "i love you so much. i'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

• "we've had kisses and cocoa and stars and dancing. that's so much more than nothing."

• "dream on, creampuff."

• "i wouldn't want to be doomed with anyone but you."

• "don't take this the wrong way or anything but why am i not dead?"

• "even if the whole world burns, i won't lose you."

• "worst. crush. ever."

• "i don't want you watching me die."

• "this isn't, like, 'yesterday dead' or 'three weeks ago dead.' this is like 'predates opposible thumbs' dead."

• "i think i'd like to be dead now."

• "how sweet. doomed, clearly, but still very sweet."

• "pg13, how incredibly dull."

• "you were sleeping at the desk and doing adorable twitchy things that i can only imagine involves sleep-murdering a ball of yarn."

• "they were going to kill them, i get it, you saved them. but you can bring them back now. they're safe now. god! bring them back! JUST BRING THEM BACK TO ME PLEASE!"

• "you must think i'm ridiculous, what, with your sex, blood and rock'n'roll attitude."

• "could we pretend, just for tonight, that if i asked we'd run away?"

• "my feelings are not squishy."

• "comrades working shoulder to shoulder. with no desperate kissing or lusty sexual undertones. no awkwardness. just good, old fashioned platonic buddies."

• "did you pick a fight with a god?!"

• "those are bloody footprints! we do not run in the direction of bloody footprints!"

• "all I know is that in more than a century, you’re the only person I ever found worth saving. you and no one else."

• "you're in this mess because i am anything but a hero."

• "okay maybe let’s not throw ourselves at the centuries old, supernatural murder machine."

[mywritingonlyfans]

Stitches. // Alex Turner X Reader.

prompt: alex getting some stitches by you (med) after a gig episode. (it's a first meeting short-fic)

words: 1,7K.

His expression was filled with tension, an awkward smile pleading the curly-haired man to rescue him from the situation. His long legs fidgeted uncontrollably, as if he were trying to dig a hole in the ground.

"Alexander?" you addressed him, seeking confirmation from the man beside him. They appeared slightly older than you, exuding a coolness that was hard to ignore. "Well, I suppose you're the one in need of stitches, right?" you smiled, trying to convey a sense of calmness through his concerned, chocolate-colored eyes.

Your voice carried a friendly tone as you held his chin gently in your hand, examining the dried blood on his brow. His face nuzzled into your palm, eliciting a sweet smile from you as your eyes met his. He resembled a golden, vulnerable puppy, scared like one during a New Year's fireworks display.

"Is this goin’ to ‘urt?" His eyebrows softened, and you had to suppress a cute sigh in his presence.

The man patted his shoulder, assuring him of his presence. The smile was no longer on his lips, but he remained adorable. Dressed in a blazer and a crisp white shirt, he was undoubtedly feeling hot inside, yet the adrenaline prevented him from realizing it. His face was perfectly sculpted, with a well-defined jawline, and you found yourself fixated on the small scar near his eye, becoming somewhat obsessed with it. They appeared casual yet sophisticated, a captivating sight to behold.

"Not much, it'll be quick!" you reassured him, wetting a piece of cotton for his wound.

"He's not exactly the brave type," the man commented. You chuckled, though Alex didn't seem too pleased about it.

"Yeah? I must admit I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now, but I promise to make it as painless as possible."

"Thank you," he swallowed, growing increasingly tense.

His friend maintained a smile on his face, as if silently declaring his correctness. Judging by Alex’s expression, he was probably right.

You introduced yourself to him, and he appeared pleased by that, prompting himself for you to lift his face with your thumb. It seemed he was genuinely happy to know your name, although it could have just been your imagination playing tricks on you.

He was about to repeat your name, but you acted faster and pressed the cotton to his wound. He shivered, suppressing a groan. It was so adorable that you almost wished you hadn't interrupted him, as you longed to hear him say your name out loud. Even if only for a single time.

"I'm sorry," you wrinkled your nose. Patients in pain weren't your favorite thing, especially when their well-being rested in your hands. "I promise this is the worst part, you'll soon be numb and feel nothing."

"Yeah, Al. The doctor is pretty, they won't kill you if you don't ask," the man chimed in, causing Alex to blush and sending a delightful tingle through your body. It wasn't a vulgar remark.

"Uh, I'll ask you to close your eyes, I think it'll be better that way."

"Don't mind him, he's just trying to distract me."

"I see. Do you think it's working?" You continued the conversation. Theoretical classes had taught you that talking to patients could help them endure pain a bit better. Alex wasn't a child, but in that moment, he seemed just as nervous and restless.

"I think so, actually. Your presence helps. I thought I'd find someone older and grumpy." His brows twitched, and a tear trickled down his face. Why did it feel like the pain was affecting you too?

"Shhh, love. It's alright, we're almost done," you whispered, gently pressing your fingers against the sides of the wound to check if he felt anything. Fortunately, he didn't. From that point on, he would be fine.

"I wish I could say that your kindness and gentleness are calming me, but I'd be lying, although I truly appreciate it." He smiled sweetly, almost tempted to open his eyes but then deciding against it.

"Keep them closed, I like your long lashes." You felt a chill run down your spine after saying that, but it was so honest and spontaneous that you would have felt bad for not mentioning it. After all, you wouldn't see him again. "They look good on you," you added, placing your hand under his neck and twirling a lock of his hair around your fingers. Maybe you were overreacting, but you wanted to savor this moment and hold him a little longer. The man smiled back at you, having read you like a book. You couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, yet pleased.

"Aren't you too young for that? I'm not judging, just curious," the curly-haired man asked as soon as you looked at Alex. His cheeks were flushed, along with the tip of his nose. God, you wanted to kiss him. At least you wished you could do it once.

"It's okay," you avoided looking at his friend. "I'm in training. I've stitched people up before, but if it makes you feel better, I can get someone else to do it for your boy." Your voice revealed your nervousness. You hated to entertain the thought, as it was disrespectful, but if someone didn't want you to touch their body, you wouldn't be the one sewing them.

"No babe, I didn't mean it like that. Alex looks good with you. It was supposed to sound like a compliment. It looks like you've been doing it for years," he quickly clarified.

You let out the breath you were holding and refocused your attention on making Alex feel better. "Then, thank you," you glanced at him and could see that he never intended to belittle you.

"He's not mine, he's just in a band with me," he said, keeping his eyes closed and lightly touching your white coat. He squeezed the fabric slightly, his hand grazing the skin around your waist. "That's how it happened, by the way. It was crazy but kinda nice. How long will it take?" He swallowed dryly, making you chuckle as he held you a little tighter. You didn't think they were actually together, but you found it adorable that he thought so and took it lightheartedly. His urgency in making himself clear that they weren't together gave you hope, as if there was something potentially more to come.

"Just a few more," you muttered. "So, are you in a band? What do you play? And what exactly were you doing that led to this?"

His nose twitched into a smile, making you feel better, knowing you were managing to distract him. "I'm a singer and guitarist, and I got a little too excited with the microphone stand while I was singing. It's usual, but, huh, this time it didn't turn out so well as you can see," his friend babbled, looking at you and whispering, "He's a bastard." By his movement, you understood that he had kicked the object at some point. You nodded, playing along.

"I'll guess you guys are a rock band, huh? It doesn't seem like a very smart thing to do, but I think if I could, I would try too," you took a step back, analyzing your artwork on his pale skin.

"See, Matthew? It's a normal thing, you should try!" he spoke in a funny voice, sounding like an inside joke between them. Matthew rolled his eyes at him.

"Well, we're done," you held onto his shoulders, studying him. He smiled broadly, letting his chocolate-colored, lazy eyes meet yours. He looked even more attractive when you could see his light, relaxed smile. "You look good!"

"You look good too!" his attention remained on you, causing the entire room to go silent around you until Matthew coughed exaggeratedly.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth. Alex was something else. It had only been a few seconds since his hand was on your waist, and you already missed it.

"You could come to one of our gigs if you want," Matthew suggested.

"Yes, please. You'll love us!" Alex exclaimed, as if you had never stitched him up.

"Promise me that if I go, you won't scare me by trying to get hurt again?"

"I promise, no jumping around or kicking things when you're watchin’ me," he held up his hand, giving you his word.

"Then, fine. I'll keep that in mind. What's the name?"

"Arctic Monkeys," he got up, and your mind went dizzy with his height and essence. It certainly wasn't what you expected, but it wasn't a bad thing. He looked like a cute, not-much-tall, pudding mess. "I'm Alex. You can call me just Al, luv" he took your arm, placing a quick kiss on your head. You resisted the urge to hug his torso.

"The singer and guitarist, I'll remember that, you'll see," you were smiling like crazy.

"Just contact me, I'll be glad to see you again," he said happily, following Matthew, who was already by the door. "And you're really good at what you do, like this whole mini medical genius thing that you are, really good." You nodded, mumbling a simple 'thank you' while watching him walk awkwardly but cute to his friend. Your whole mood was radiant, and you felt like you could work another shift wearing that smile.

"Uh, excuse me," you were taken out of your reverie. You put your hand over your mouth so you wouldn't look so silly for smiling at nothing. "My bastard friend told you to contact him, but he forgot to exchange numbers with you." He added, waving a small paper in front of you. He was clearly enjoying the situation. How could you forget that you needed to have his number?

"Oh, yeah, thank you."

"And don't forget to call him. Don't make me come ‘ere with him again," he blinked as you nodded fiercely at his words. 

He wouldn't have to.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr

[sserpente]

A/N: I’m baaaack! Sort of, haha! I’m gathering my forces to get back into posting lots of new Imagines from next week but for now, please enjoy this silly thing I wrote. I’m still healing from Loki Season 2 and I already have a festive idea for that too… and on that note, if you have any Christmassy prompts in mind, throw them my way! Have fun reading!

Words: 1185 Warnings: winter silliness, fluff

“It’s three snowballs, Astarion. Three. And stop nibbling on that carrot, you can’t even eat it!”

“They make them with two in Baldur’s Gate!” A crisp sound tore through the ice-cold air, followed by an indignant gasp from Gale.

“Stop nibbling on the damn thing!”

It truly was a sight to behold. Gale, wrapped in a purple scarf and a hat that practically screamed wizard and Astarion, not bothered by the cold, wearing no jacket or gloves with his white shirt and those sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his strong arms; and the white new layer of snow that had come to rest in camp overnight.

Upgrading those tents with magical heating and enchanted fire had been a brilliant idea judging by how you sank into fresh powdery flakes knee-deep as soon as you stepped outside. The cold greeted you by biting at every inch of exposed skin it could find.

Gale ripped the carrot from Astarion’s grasp who spat out the tip he’d just bitten off with a disgusted expression. In between them sat two differently sized snowballs stacked on top of each other, and another small one next to the wizard’s boots on the ground.

You crossed your arms before your chest, holding back a laugh. “What in the hells are you two doing?”

“I am trying to build a snowman. Astarion is trying to sabotage me.”

“I would do no such thing!” With a shit-eating grin, he raised his arms in defence. “A snowman has two snowballs as I, kind as I am, have made Gale aware of. I was trying to help.”

“Well… Alright, I see. We went from fighting mind flayers to arguing over snowmen’s body parts?” You raised an eyebrow, still attempting your very best to keep that hysteric laugh bubbling up your throat down.

“Building snowmen is a perfectly acceptable way to pass the time in winter,” Gale argued as he heaved the last snowball up and sat him on top of the other two. The carrot slipped from his hands as he did and it took Astarion only a split second to snatch it up and plunge it into the snowman’s “face” with so much force the snowball almost broke in half.

Both Astarion and you watched soundlessly how Gale retrieved a handful of coals from his tent and proceeded to give the snowman eyes, a mouth and buttons.

“He looks a little thin, don’t you think?” Astarion suggested all of a sudden. You blinked as they both contemplated the snowman with tilted heads and then got to work, scooping up more snow from the ground to pat it on. If only you had Oskar with you right now to paint a picture of this—no one would ever believe it.

“Now… go on… give him your scarf and your hat,” Astarion said. You chuckled. The cold was all but forgotten now—you were invested. Hells, this was better than your morning coffee.

“I think I’ll pass on that one, thanks. I certainly need them more than the snowman does. Besides, I could just do that—“ Gale waved his hand and snapped his fingers in a fluid motion. Out of thin air, he materialised a miniature scarf and hat to complete the snowman’s appearance.

You clapped your hands. “Bravo! He looks adorable. Now… has either of you thought of making some coffee before you got to work with this masterpiece?”

“I can’t say that I did,” Gale announced. “I’m more of a hot chocolate guy around this time of the year.”

Chuckling once more, you stepped closer and shivered. You’d need a jacket soon. The cold was starting to take a toll on you, not even the hot flushes Astarion’s presence gave you could help with that.

“Then go work your magic and make us some, will you? Please?”

Astarion hummed, regarding the finished snowman wordlessly as Gale nodded with a smile and returned to his tent.

It was a beautiful winter morning indeed. You bent down to shovel some fresh snow in your hands and formed a snowball before joining Astarion for a good morning kiss.

“You know…” He breathed a laugh. “It’s almost funny. I’ve never bothered playing with snow before. I never had the time.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand when his gaze became distant, gently forcing him back to the present. “But you do now. We can make a whole snowman army. And have snowball fights.”

“Snowball fights?” The confusion in his voice was palpable, teasing almost.

“Snowball fights,” you repeated. With that, you brought the hand holding the snowball above his head and smashed it on top of his hair.

Astarion’s jaw dropped, feigned indignity paired with real indignity as the snow trickled through his hair and on his shoulders. You laughed, almost slipping on the snow campground when you turned on your heels and made a run for it. There was no need to look back to see if he was following you. He was—and with his vampiric reflexes, he had his arms wrapped around your middle in no time.

You both went down before your brain could even process you were falling. Astarion cupped the back of your head to keep you from hurting yourself as he landed on top of you, his free hand snatching both your wrists to pin them down above your head.

“How dare you, pet.” It wasn’t a question, that much was for sure. You laughed, your weak and half-hearted attempt to wriggle yourself free all but failing before it properly started.

“Ahh, oh, gods, it’s cold! It’s cold!” You arched your back to escape the snow but were promptly blocked by Astarion’s body weight on top of you. He chuckled—the mischievous sound immediately sent a pleasant shiver up and down your spine.

“Well… that’s what you get for attacking a vampire,” he mused.

“Hmm, and quite vicious it was.” There was a proud and smug hue about you but it didn’t last long for when Astarion pressed his cold lips against yours, you became putty in his awkward embrace in the snow. Your eyes fell shut, body welcoming him in and for a moment, his affection even chased away the biting cold of the fresh flakes underneath you.

“Hey, lovebirds! The hot chocolate is ready!” Gale’s voice came echoing across the entire camp. If your remaining companions hadn’t been awake yet, they certainly were now.

You licked your lips when Astarion broke the kiss, reluctance shimmering in his red eyes.

“Hot chocolate… you know… I wonder what would happen if we poured you a mug and then mixed it with some of my blood. You think that would taste good?”

“Well…” A smirk. “I am open to experimenting.”

“Speaking of experiments, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have sex in the snow.”

Astarion laughed. He rolled off of you and offered his hand to help you up. “I could be persuaded,” he said when you walked past him to get your hot chocolate. You grinned in response. You knew he already was.

[meowsgirldrawing]

Princess vs Prince (Astarion x Gn-Tav/Reader) WIP

I got 6 pages of this so far HA-

Prompt: The ragtag gang of tadpole holders saves a princess (daughter of a grand duke) from a miserable fate by a monster, then decides to help escort her back to her town. Astarion didn’t mind any of this, but after weeks since his and Tav’s exchange of real affections and confessions, he’s not too keen on allowing her fluttering eyelashes and obvious thing for hero’s to go on any longer.

(Aka-Astarion doesn’t like to share and wants to be the only “royalty” Tav adores)

(Aka-he’s jealous)

Why am I calling Astarion a prince? Because he acts like it besides the gore and vampy stuffz. Plus it makes a fun title.

Note: Tav is a tiefling in this, because I love tieflings so much, but I'm trying to keep it mostly open so people can imagine their Tav's easier. More or less a little self-indulgent on my part.

“Let’s save the little princess, they said!” 

“It’ll be harmless, they said!”

Astarion bristles, leaned up on the tough wood pole that holds up his tent. The pure white pup beside him pays no attention, his gnawing noisy and breaking the air occasionally with happy whimpers. “I mean really??” He manages to keep his words low-ish, but his hand movement, flaring up in mock dismissal, is rather the opposite. “Who does that little minx think she is?-”

“GO WYLL, GO!” Karlach’s booming voice interrupts him. Loud enough that Scratch finally peers up, tail wagging. Oh so you’ll ignore me but as soon as the big fire lady says one word-

Not that Scratch really needs to listen anymore, Astarion trails off, finally resuming on the scene before him. The scene he was so diligently watching for a few reasons only before his disgust came filtering in.

Gale steps up, settling in beside Karlach,  “Do we really need to do this?”

“Have a little fun, Gale,” Tav huffs lightly, playfully, as they snatch up another log and set it up in the stump, axe glinting in the sunlight from their hand.

“Of course we do! Since Tav thought it was oh so wise to comment-“

“It was just a joke, Wyll-“ They try.

“On my “princely-ness” I must show them exactly how prince-like I can be!” His shirtless chest puffs up in confidence, or faux bravo as Tav rolls their eyes and sighs. And that is through a friendly log-chopping competition apparently.

“Tsk’va-“ Lae’zel settles up next to Gale’s side, her eyes focused on the pile beside the two morons. “As long as we get firewood, I don’t care how it’s done.”

Tav nods, grateful “Thank you, sweet Lae’zel. See Gale, it’s harmless my guy!”

Lae’zel does her dismissal words, rolling her eyes. The friendliness form of ‘no problem’ a Githyanki, at least their favorite one, can offer apparently. 

What? No, the competition is certainly not Astarion’s source of disgust. The sight of a bare chested, years of fighting showing in rippling muscles, Wyll going against their broad-shouldered, built in both structured and height Tav, whose upper half is covered by a mere tank top. That is absolutely not it. If anything, he could sit there all day watching both go at it like morons over a simple joke. 

And no, it’s not how he can clearly see the others taking in the sight as well. Gale watches in more amused confusion compared to most, but if you looked harder, his eyes are certainly not straying from either’s form. 

Karlach’s tail wags lightly, while her eyes glim with her hearty laugh. Perhaps if she wasn’t already burning up from her engine, she’d probably be visibly burning up in another way. Still, her focus is on Wyll, amused and thoroughly intrigued.

Lae’zel’s possibly the only one who isn’t doing much leering, but she isn’t so innocent. She goes from watching their forms swing down the axes on Tav’s call to being unable to take her eyes off Tav’s arm stretching out for another log. She huffs but does nothing more besides crossing her arms.

He can’t blame them, not at all, his Tav alone is a sight to behold. Not to mention their overall friendly and sweet persona that takes no real effort, a gentle giant is what he’s heard multiple times by Shadowheart. Added with Wyll, an admittedly gentleman despite his profession at slaying off monster heads, his demeanor also alone can melt the strongest of hearts. 

Pair them together, and you got a nice show to sit back and enjoy. Especially with the banter thrown left and right.

“Ready to give up, Tav? Even by your tail I can tell you’re struggling.” He grins, eyes crickling in mirth.

Tav scoffs, their tail adjusting the log before swinging back to behind them.

“Try me, warrior boy. I’m just getting started!”

“Well-” At the next call, both heave up their axes and slit the wood in two. 4 more added to their respective collections. “So am I, my friend!”

Astarion’s lip quirks, but then turns into a full frown as soon as he hears it again.

A high pitched giggle.

A little ways behind the two competitors, there sits a young woman in a fair and fluttery day gown, dark long locks curled over her shoulder, manicured and well cared for hands trail near her full and red lips as she giggles out her response, “You’re doing just amazing, both of you!”

But her eyes stay on Tav. His Tav.

His lip curls, eyes piercing from the other side of the camp.

There she is, the little princess he and his group just so happen to come across when dealing the final blows on a goblin camp. Annalisa, or rather, Lady Annalisa-Daughter and heir of Duke Salton. Who just so happens to be from the town they planned to head to next before her untimely landing into their group.

[thisisnotkitty]

omg what would ness and mike’s first date be?!

im SO GLAD you asked

-i think that mike would want to take ness to a fancy restaurant but a) ness already works at a diner so mike’s worried that he wouldn’t want to eat out and b) do u really think mike can afford that lmao

-mike is probably freaking out about this w vanessa meanwhile vanessa’s like “im sure he’d love to go anywhere with you” and mikes like “okay but that’s not helpful WHERE should we go”

-the thing is mike wants to make sure that its a very special date. they’ve technically gone out before but usually with abby third wheeling. ness doesn’t mind and mike adores his little sister but he also kinda wants some alone time with his boyfriend okay?

-he does some research and there’s a historical museum a little ways out so on a day where vanessa can take care of abby and ness has a day off he takes them there

-ness doesn’t know where they’re going. mike insisted on planning the date by himself and just told ness it’d be a surprise

-lo and behold DINOSAUR MUSEUM

-(i tried to do research and if we’re taking the movie to be set in montana this museum is there and apparently has “one of the largest collections of dinosaur archeological remains” woahhh)

-ness is absolutely SPEECHLESS so mike thinks he doesn’t like it at first so he’s scrambling to make it better lmao

-hes all “it was a stupid idea, sorry. if u want we can just explore what they have around here im sure there’s like a coffee shop or something” and ness is like “mike for the love of god please shut up I LOVE IT”

-they go in and have a BLAST

-ness bc he definitely went through a dinosaur phase. he’s pointing at different models and telling mike all about them and what time period they were from etc etc

-mike is having a great time just listening to ness. does he know whats going on? no. could he tell u the difference between a velociraptor and an oviraptor? absolutely not. but he loves hearing ness talk so he’s more than happy to smile and listen.

-when they reach the giftshop he has to physically hold ness back from buying like 20 plushes thought lmao

-when ness is turned away sulking mike buys him one. he doesn’t know anything about dinosaurs and couldn’t tell you the names of any of them but he noticed ness getting particularly excited at this one exhibit so he took note of the frills around the dinosaurs neck and picks that one out of the plushes (its a dilophosaurus bc i personally think they’re cool)

-he also buys a coloring book for abby

-ness LOVES IT and then he shows mike that he also secretly bought something from the gift shop !

-its a keychain bc he knows mike’s kinda a sentamentalist and like to keep small memorabilia of things so he figured he’d want something to remember the date by and ness is like “do you like it?” eyes shining with anticipation

-mike, trying desperately not to cry: yeah

-suddenly ness is like OH! and scares mike out of his socks

-ness pulls out a puzzle from his bag and is like “this is for abby!” and mikes like “how am i so lucky” rahhh

-ness takes great care of his new plush and always gently places him in the middle of the bed once he makes it. (the first time mike comes over and sees it he tears up and ness teases him about it)

-mike also carries the keychain everywhere he goes (once he thought he lost it and made a mess turning the house upside down to try to find them. turns out abby had just borrowed the keys to open up something (she couldnt find the scissors) and forgot to put them back lmao)

sooo much brainrot i love them sm please keep sending prompts to feed the brainworms

[slytherhys]

Keeping Secrets

Prompt: Cassian's allergies help him solve a mystery.

A/N: After a long writing slump I have returned with yet another Elriel fic. If you guys like it I might write a part II about elriel's not-so-secretive rendezvous... 🤭

Cassian couldn’t help but think, as he looked out the window from Rhys’s new office, that the City of Starlight was a sight to behold when painted in the colours of Spring.

Flowers seemed to bloom in every corner, painting the cobblestone pavement in purples and blues and pinks, greenery following close behind. Their fragrance spread through the streets as the sun shone brighter, its light sparkling against the surface of the Sidra. People walked to and fro the Palaces, laughter and joy in their voices as they visited their favourite shops and enjoyed the warmer temperatures. It wasn’t Cassian’s favourite season, but he had to admit it was a nice reprieve from the bitter cold winter they’d had to endure the past few months.

Besides, Spring in Velaris was never a nuisance to him – despite his allergies, it was rare that he would so much as sneeze.

Even if today, for some reason, Cassian couldn’t stop fucking sniffling.

Rhys eyed him with a raised brow, sending the tissue box on his desk a pointed look - like he had done many, many times since he had first arrived. Cassian pointedly ignored him.

“The season doesn’t seem to agree with you, brother.” The asshole said, pushing the tissue box in his direction.

Cassian pointedly ignored that as well, sniffling indignantly and moving away from the window – even if it did little to relieve him. The entire office smelled like those damned flowers, making his nose run and itch like it did on the rare occasions where he had been unfortunate enough to visit the Spring Court. 

It was Elain’s fault, really. When he had first gotten to the River House - albeit an hour early - he wasn’t entirely expecting her to be the first person he’d see. He knew well enough the garden in the back was being tended to by her - something he clearly had failed to remember when he pulled Elain into a warm hug, pressing a small kiss to her cheek before setting her down. Needless to say before he could even say hi Cassian was sneezing - not once, not twice but three times. Elain had laughed softly, apologising and explaining that she had received a new batch of flowers that she had just carried to the back to plant for the first time. Her sister, of course, would be the one getting the flowers first. For her kindness, El had explained. 

He adored Elain - truly, he did. He just couldn’t understand why, exactly, he couldn’t stop sneezing and sniffling hours after being near her. 

He had gotten better for just a few moments - just until Rhys and Azriel barged into the office. Rhys first, frown on his face that he assumed had something to do with Nyx (apparently the High Lord didn’t like the fact his son’s first words had been mama ), and Azriel just a few minutes later, looking more flushed than Cassian had ever seen him. He had questioned neither - he definitely didn’t ask any of them why they’d both been over 15 minutes late to a meeting that was going to end up being nearly two hours long. 

So what if he had to leave Nesta in their bed, forgoing her morning cuddles in favour of a stupid meeting that they’d both been late too? So what if every minute they were late meant another minute away from her? Cassian wouldn’t point it out. He was a General, the Commander of the Night Court’s armies - he was above such petty feelings and childish grudges.

He sniffled - indignantly, of course, not because of his allergies - stepping further away from the windows once Rhysand finally concluded their meeting. “Well, I know you both have no concept of time, but I plan to meet Nesta by the Sidra for lunch, and I'm already fifteen minutes late.” 

He was above such petty feelings and childish grudges most times .

Rhys smirked, opening the door of his office, not even bothering to acknowledge his remark as he leisurely strolled down the hallway, hands inside his pockets in a show of ease that had taken him centuries to achieve. Cassian fought the urge to remind him of his younger years and all the embarrassing shit their High Lord had done, just for the sake of it. He was a good friend, after all.

 Azriel followed close behind, Cassian grumbling as he joined him, following Rhys to the foyer. 

“You don’t seem to be in a good mood, brother.” Azriel smirked slightly, his flushed skin glowing. But before he could remark on that unusual occurrence, Cassian sneezed. 

Four times. 

Azriel grinned. 

“And why are you in such a good mood?” He muttered, surreptitiously reaching into his pocket for a tissue he had stolen earlier when no one was watching, observing Azriel with a critical eye. Because he truly was in a good mood - which was odd, to say the least. Besides the flushed skin, his hair seemed rumpled, and even if the bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced than ever, there was a glitter to his hazel eyes that told Cassian it wasn’t exactly nightmares keeping him up at night. Even his leathers seemed more rumpled than ever, dirt under his boots and…was that a flower pressed on the toe of his left boot?

He also hadn’t missed the fact that Azriel had chosen to follow Rhys and leave through the front door like a normal person, instead of simply flying out the open balcony like he usually did. 

Cassian frowned. “Late night, brother?” He asked, just as they reached the kitchen. Azriel’s expression betrayed nothing, his face as stoic as ever.

“Early morning.” He mumbled, a light twitch to his lips. There and gone in a second. Cassian narrowed his eyes, failing to understand what that actually meant, but the sound of two familiar voices stopped him from probing. 

Feyre and Elain stood by the doors leading to the gardens, talking softly and laughing until they both noticed their presence. Cassian felt, rather than saw, Azriel go still next to him as he eyed them both, eyes assessing as they usually did. Rhys, however, seemed to relax - like he always did - as soon as his mate’s eyes found his, pulling her into a kiss that felt more intimate than it should’ve been in the presence of three other people. Feyre giggled, slapping him softly in the chest, a blush taking over her pretty face as they spoke softly with each other. 

Cassian quickly looked away, choosing to eye Elain instead. She, too, had a healthy blush to her cheeks, her hair a bit messy, a loose bun keeping it from going to her face. Her hands were playing with the straw hat she was holding, eyes flickering between him and Azriel, something secretive shining in them as she watched them both. 

Cassian ignored the tingling in his nose. “How are the new flowers coming along, El?” He smiled at his sister-in-law, not missing the happiness in her entire expression that seemed to grow every day that passed, just as she found her place in their court. The last few months, especially. 

Elain’s cheeks darkened further, her eyes widening slightly as she stared up at him. “Oh,” she laughed nervously. “Very well, thank you.” She said as she reached for her hair, letting it down softly as her eyes flickered to her sister and Rhys, quickly turning back to Azriel and Cassian when she saw them kissing once more. The scent that had followed him to the office earlier hit him full force again just as she let her hair down and before he could even mutter his confusion, he was sneezing again. Once, twice, three times. 

Elain smiled apologetically, but Cassian was entirely too focused on something else to even notice. A small flower , woven into her hair. A familiar sight, he thought, just one he couldn’t exactly place. 

Before he could think about it, he was reaching for it, taking Elain and himself by surprise with his sudden move. 

“You have something-” He trailed off, holding the small blue flower in his hand, trying to place it. 

“Oh.”  Elain chuckled softly, taking a step back as if to protect him from any more sneezing. He was grateful for it. “It’s the new flowers we got today.” She explained, smiling sweetly. “I spent the entire morning planting them in Feyre’s gardens.” 

Cassian frowned, eyeing Elain again. “Are you sure we don’t have these somewhere else?” 

Elain laughed, Az going suddenly very quiet. Cassian eyed him, oddly feeling as if he had been handed the easiest puzzle piece and still failing it somehow. “I’m sure, Cass. I ordered them specifically for Feyre’s new gardens a few months ago.” She eyed them both quizzically, something flashing in her eyes as she looked at Azriel, eyes widening comically as she backtracked. “Or… Or maybe I got some for Nesta? It’s happened before-”

“No, that’s not it.” He shook his head, eyeing Azriel closely. His daring eyes, his clothes, his boots…

And the fucking blue flower pressed to the toe of them. 

Cassian felt his eyes widen, his heart beating loudly before his brain could even catch up with what his body had already figured out. 

“Holy fuck, are you-” the rest of his words muffled by Azriel’s scarred hands, silenced by the flashing in the shadowsinger’s eyes that warned him about the dangers of even thinking about whatever was about to come out of his mouth. 

Elain looked entirely too calm - if only not for the panic in her pretty eyes as she eyed them both, unsure of what to say. Cassian wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her explain anything, if he was being honest. 

Her flushed skin, her rumpled hair… Not only from spending an entire morning working under the heat of the sun. The flower in her hair, suspiciously identical to the one pressed against the toe of Azriel’s boot. Not the sole of it, but the toe , as if he had been kneeling …

Oh, he was going to be sick. 

“What’s happening right now?” Feyre’s voice broke him out of his stupor, Azriel’s eyes flickering to their High Lady even if his hand remained pressed against his mouth. Cassian pushed his brother away, gasping for air. Had the asshole forgotten his stuffy nose or was he actually trying to kill him? 

Rhys sighed. “Don’t worry yourself about them, Feyre darling.” He said, taking her hand in his and pulling her in the direction of the front door. “You all know where the door is, so please make use of it sooner rather than later.” He said over his shoulder, just before turning around and sending Elain a charming smile. “Except you, Elain. Make yourself at home.” And then he was gone, his mate under his arm as they strolled down the sidewalk. 

Cassian stood dumbfounded, mouth gaping as his eyes flickered between the two people in front of him. Azriel simply rolled his eyes, as if Cassian was the one being dramatic. Elain simply tilted her head as she watched him with open curiosity. 

He wanted to throttle them both.

“How long?” He sputtered. “How did it even… What…” He took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. “Are you guys out of your mind?” He whined. “If Rhys finds out-”

“He won’t.” Azriel said with deadly calm. As if it were truly that simple. 

But Cassian was undeterred. “He will if you’re fucking in his garden, you genius.” He drawled, not missing how Elain pressed her face against Azriel’s stomach, trying to hide her laughter. As if it were funny . Cassian didn’t even blink at their sudden familiarity. As if, deep down, it simply made sense.

“He won’t find out, Cass.” He assured quietly, just as his hand reached out to play with her hair, stroking it, his eyes softening slightly as he looked down at the female next to him. 

No, he couldn’t say he was surprised. 

Sure, it had taken him by surprise, but not because he hadn’t seen it coming, he supposed. After months of odd behaviour from his brother, months of seeing him weirdly… content. Not to mention the fights over Elain’s privacy, the discomfort over Lucien’s presence…It was as if everything simply clicked. 

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. Nesta would become insufferable once she got wind of this.

“Does Lucien-”

“No.” But it wasn’t Azriel that interrupted him, even if his brother moved slightly, as if to protect Elain from his words. Elain’s voice, however, left no room for questions, almost daring him to ask anything else. Cassian knew she had already made herself clear over where she stood concerning Vanserra’s affection. 

Cassian also knew what Nesta would do to him if he found out he had told his sister that she should take the male’s feelings into consideration. Such conversation had taken place when they had made a bet, only days after the solstice last year. I’m pretty sure they’re hooking up , Nesta had said casually as she watched Az and Elain talk softly on the other side of the room. Cassian had laughed - loudly - which eventually led to a bet being made. Nesta had looked entirely too smug when he had agreed to it, but he hadn’t even stopped to think about it.

He was seriously regretting his own life choices. 

Cassian sighed. “I hope you guys know what you’re doing.” 

Elain squared her shoulders, raising her chin as she looked at Cassian. Yet, she never once stepped away from Az. “We do.” She said, a quiet conviction to her voice that he wouldn’t dare question. She gulped, squeezing Azriel’s scarred hand. An assurance , Cassian realised. 

That Az didn’t immediately pull his hand away was probably the most surprising thing happening in the past few hours. 

“There are some choices that are worth being made, Cass.” She simply said, as if such words said enough already. Cassian supposed they did. To them at least. As if  they contained a multitude of feelings, of secrets that no one could really understand but them - no matter how much others tried to question them.  

Elain tilted her head, brown eyes assessing him in a way that made him question if she truly saw more than she let on. “No matter what or who might stand against them.”

A quiet promise, he presumed. A threat to those who weren’t even present to hear it, as if Elain was stealing herself and Az, for what lay ahead. Cassian wasn’t sure what to say, what assurances to offer, what support to give - not when the future seemed so uncertain to all of them. 

But Cassian couldn’t worry about that right now - not when he had to tell Nesta she had won the bet.

Mother save him .

[aesthetictarlos]

Adorable prompt by @shxyerahol : Buck and Tommy date night at painting with a twist. Buck is not a great artist and has a hard time keeping up with the instructor but Tommy is phenomenal (headcanon taken by the fact that Lou is a fantastic painter IRL).

I really liked writing this one, hope you like it too ❤️

Buck should've probably seen this coming, but when Tommy invited him to a date night at painting with a twist, he eagerly agreed without stopping to think of the implication of that nor the reason why Tommy was so enthusiastic about the idea of painting together.

Truth is, he loves spending time with Tommy, no matter what they do or where they go, and he's absolutely enjoying this date, too, but he's also struggling. The instructor is nice and definitely very good at her job, but Buck's having a hard time keeping up with what she says. Or rather, he understands what she says but struggles to do what he's supposed to, because he sucks at drawing and painting, and art is not his thing at all.

He's trying, okay? He's trying to follow her instructions and use the right brush and the right colour but he's pretty sure he's making a mess, even if the instructor keeps encouraging and complimenting him.

It's date night, so they're supposed to make complementary paintings and they can't see each other's paintings until the end.

Tommy's sitting opposite from him, their respective canvas in the middle, so he can't exactly see anything but his face, but he can tell that his boyfriend is perfectly at ease. He doesn't even ask questions to the instructor, he's lost in painting and there's a little wrinkle on the bridge on his nose that tells Buck that he's deeply concentrated.

It's a sight to behold, honestly, and Buck gets a bit distracted until the instructor prompts him to go on, giving him some advice. He's supposed to be painting a half-heart shaped wave, using the colours of the bi flag, and it's not that bad but he's not sure it's going to be nice either.

"I'm done," Tommy announces five minutes later, and Buck widens his eyes in disbelief.

"What? How's that possible?" He asks, frowning as he takes in his own painting. He's barely finished with the background. "I still have to paint the wave, you're cheating."

Tommy chuckles, tilting his head. "I'm not cheating, I'm done for real. You wanna see?"

"I wish," Buck says, rolling his eyes.

"You can, if you want," the instructor chimes in. "It's not really a rule that you can't see your partner's painting before you've done with yours, just something I suggest to make things funnier," she says, inspecting Tommy's canvas. "Besides, I think that your boyfriend here might be really helpful."

Buck is very, very curious now, so he stands up, rounds the table and– oh boy, Tommy has painted is a masterpiece. He's not an expert, but he can recognize a wonderful painting when he sees one, and Tommy's definitely is.

He's used the gay flag colours to paint the wave, and he's also added a lot of details that make it look real. He's stunned and speechless, and can't help but stare in awe at the canvas and then at his boyfriend.

"Baby, it's amazing. I didn't know you were so talented," he says, surprised. "You're an artist, and a damn good one."

"Uh– Yeah, I would call myself an artist. I never mentioned that but I– I paint in my free time," Tommy admits, smiling sheepishly. "I've started doing that a few months after I came back from my tour in Iraq, and it helped a lot. I've never stopped since then, it's something I really like and apparently I'm also good at that."

"You are," Buck says, squeezing his shoulder. "And it's nice that art is one of your hobbies. I'm so bad at it, but it's calming and it definitely helps to clean your mind."

"It does. It's the reason why I started painting in the first place," Tommy replies, and then stands up and pokes him in the ribs. "So, you could use some help?"

Buck chuckles, blushing as he nods. He sits in front of his canvas again, and lets Tommy guide his hand, his body strong behind his and his breath fanning the side of his face. He's even more distracted now, but he manages to finish the painting with Tommy's help and when they put their two canvases next to one another, Buck feels warmth spreading around his ribs. The painting is far from perfect, and Tommy's definitely better than his own, but it's theirs and he thinks it's wonderful.

[mondaymelon]

⸝⸝⸝ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞… | albedo x gn!reader

prompt ˎˊ˗ | albedo helps you... study.

warnings/notes! ˎˊ˗ | fluff, highschool au, albedo is your tutor ♥

(a/n) ˎˊ˗ | another request by @eaeaeasaggresively (please oh lord why must you love albedo so)

"4 failed classes... two classes with a barely passing grade of just one point... 20 missed assignments and a multitude of failed tests..." Albedo's expression remained the same. "...I can see why you might need my help."

"Yeah..." Laughing awkwardly at the platinum blonde male, you slid into the seat across from him, sighing. "About that..."

"There's no need to be so nervous." Albedo mirrored your gesture before rummaging through his schoolbag. After a brief moment, the male fished out several study papers and textbooks and stacked them up on the table between you two. "After all, I'm here to help."

"Mhm." You pulled out the mechanical pencil you had brought, mind already starting to drift elsewhere before another action caught your eye. Albedo, moving his chair next to yours, so close that the two of you almost bumped shoulders.

"Okay, what exactly do you need help with?" If he noticed your sudden flustered state, he didn't seem to pay any heed.

"Ah- y-you're letting me choose? Uhm... how about science then? I mean- if you're okay with it...!" As discretely as possible, you had a silent mental breakdown, not sure whether to move closer to Albedo or scoot further away. From your dazed state, you could make out Albedo's pristine features as he smiled.

"I'm okay with that. Science is my passion. You shouldn't have any problems with me around." He gave you a small smile, an uncommon sight for you to behold. Nevertheless, you cherished it with a red face and frantic demeanor.

"Let's start with the basics then. So for factoring chemical equations you'll have to..." His serene voice faded into the background, a welcome addition to the white noise buzzing inside your head as you focused on his focused expression. His features were relaxed, and his teal eyes sparkled from the sunlight streaming into the classroom. Albedo's blonde hair was brushed elegantly into his usual style, as he wrote some notes onto a sheet of paper - notes that, as of the moment, weren't exactly your highest priority.

"...And that's about it. Does it make sense? What should I teach you next?"

"Kiss."

"...Sorry?"

"Teach me how to kiss."

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Your mind had already wandered far from the original topic, which didn't help you stayed focused. Yet, the utterly shocked look on the male's face was almost worth it.

"Is... Is that what you want?"

Was he... blushing? You must be mistaken. Albedo, dubbed as the prince of the school, was a polite but cold person, and the fact that he had smiled in front of you was already enough. Yet... there was no doubt, the light dust of red across his expression... you felt your heart skip a beat just at the sight of it.

"And if I say yes?"

"Then this is my answer."

With ease, the man leaned forward, closing the short gap between the two of you and sending warmth shooting across your body. You could feel his lips against yours, a sensation that just about seemed to overload all your nerves. Heart pounding as the world faded away, you peeked open your eyes just the tiniest bit - you had kept them closed out of pure shock and flusteredness - and saw a sight you wouldn't regret.

As the sun peeked over the clouds in the sky outside, glowing beams streaming through the windows into the empty classroom, Albedo's hair sparkled like golden thread. The gentle, almost wobbly smile that had spread across his face wasn't enough to distract you from his slightly flushed cheeks and ears. His eyes opened as he pulled away, lashes fluttering as he revealed his beautiful, azure blue eyes which you had come to adore.

You had to catch your breath before you spoke, the rush in your ears and racing of your heart roaring loudly. Thankfully, Albedo took your place, widening his smile gracefully as he kissed you one more time, taking your hand in his before meeting it to his lips.

"Full marks."