#i'm not saying i want you to remain nocturnal but

[libraryofgage]

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

[goldenchocobo]

Kingdom Hearts Tamagotchi Adventures

So, I got the Kingdom Hearts Tamagotchi for my birthday this year. and it was only in September that I decided to activate it (I was hesitant because I know Tamagotchi can be needy and can't be turned off). So here's my so-far roughly one month journey!

Here he is- Base Sora on day 1. I took care of him, played games, and generally fiddled about with what I could do. This was my first ever Tamagotchi, so it was a new experience to me. You fight Shadow Heartless, Dusk Nobodies and Flood Unversed occasionally with the tap of the 'A' button. They didn't happen super frequently so I was fine fending them off.

Unfortunately things didn't go well. I became ill with stomach flu the night after. The manual says it takes roughly 49 hours for Sora to change/evolve. and well...

When I was able to move again... I woke up to... uh... Heartless Sora. Everything remained the same, except the food and treat (Paopu and Icecream) turned into Heart and !. Heart being that you well- fed him hearts, and ! meaning he attacked you (I think... he vanished then appeared closer and waved his arms about). I felt really bad that my first Tamagotchi basically 'died' because of things I couldn't control. But I enjoyed my time with Heartless Sora; and after a few days, Kairi found him and saved him! Very cute 2 bit scene. Back to Normal Sora. I found an issue. You see... I'm more nocturnal; and this Tamagotchi... wasn't. He woke up at 9AM and slept at 10PM; meaning he didn't get the right care from me.. but I figured I could change the time to suit me- and did. Now he wakes up at 12PM and sleeps at 2AM- same as me. Next evo was a surprise! Sora introduced me to (and trusted me to care?) Riku!

This was when I found out each character/evo has different sleeping schedules. Riku would sleep late and wake late (I'm thankful it wasn't early due to the whole Dawn motif because I didn't want to change the clock too much again). They also have their own unique cutscenes, with Riku primarily featuring Mickey. Not much happened, and I showed Riku to Riku(My Riku... the cockatiel- named after... Riku). But He left and Sora returned. At this point I wanted to aim for Roxas- or Ventus (I'm sad there's no Vanitas). So I miiight have looked up a quick wiki to see how to get the characters. "Wow that's cheating" you might say.. and yeah- probably... the issue is that I didn't get Roxas.

Instead, Sora 'grew up' into KHII Sora. I was interested to see what kind of outfit or character I could get to show up, so I continued with normal care.

On the 28th of September... Sora.. ever the festive fellow...

Donned his Santa outfit.

I found it kinda funny, but kept him up with Normal care. I was starting to forget him (I got a little drawer handle I put him on during the evening on my right hand ride next to my monitor, and during the day he's on the couch arm- I don't take him out because I'm scared I'll lose the Tamagotchi somewhere). So He was getting upset/hungry; but if he beeped I knew he needed something. He Unlocked/locked the Keyhole to Halloween/Christmas Town, then flew off in the Gummiship, returning as Normal Sora. After 49 hours, he once again reintroduced me to Riku. having forbidden knowledge, I knew I could turn Riku into Dark Riku. and tried.

I. Felt. Awful.

I know they're just 2bit pixelart on the screen... but Riku has a special place in my heart (I named my grumpy, gay cockatiel after him!) so me... just basically neglecting Riku? it hurt :(

After this. He did not turn into Dark Riku. He left. just straight-up.

Sora flew back in on the Gummiship and my quest to get Roxas/Ventus continued.

But I was surprised when I came back after an outing to find... Sora turned into a fish

Wiki says he's from 'Bad care', but I don't remember giving him subpar treatment, and catering to what he wanted- so I'm baffled. He did come with an Aerial/Sebastian scene, though- so that was cute. He didn't stay for long and locked Atlantica's Keyhole, returning as Basic Sora.

Again- I tried to get Roxas, but instead got KHII Sora again; so I thought I could maybe get Axel or Xion; since they're included in the KHII evo list.

Nope. Christmas Sora again. Oh well- He does love Christmas.

I'll update this if I get anything interesting. I know you can get Xehanort- I recognised his Silhouette on the manual, so maybe I'll get him one day.

I'm still waiting on Roxas..

[jacevelaryonswife]

Shadowplay | Part two

When did he develop intentions for you? You, who were never special. You weren't a dragon or blood of old valyria. And yet, you were the only lady who cleared his sight on cloudy nights.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

warnings: slight angst, happy ending.

for: @hopebaker

Part one - Part two

The conflicted feeling between following your shadow and not getting involved in your life gradually suffocated Aemond, pushing him over the limite that night. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know why, he just knows he has to come to you and stop the madness you’re subjecting your life and reputation to. You might not be that special, but you were occupying a space in his mind that troubled him on a daily basis.

“The city at night is not a suitable environment for a lady.” He said, blocking your way out. "Where is your brother?"

Your mind went back to the grey strands you'd seen on one of your first escapes from the castle. It was him. When tension began to creep into your body and your breathing became irregular, you inquired:

“Are you watching us? A few nights ago I thought I saw grey hairs in the hall.”

He remained silent, features fading briefly. In addition to being discovered earlier, it had self-reported now. Maybe he underestimated your perception, or overestimated his abilities.

"Let me pass."

"No."

"Why?"

He did not know.

“It's not safe for you out there. Not decent.”

Decent. What was decent? Submitting to the misfortune of a choice not made by you? Serving as a breeding source for a man's children? Keeping up appearances of something unreal? Not. Decency is a concept that does not apply to your reality. There is no decency in the court of King Viserys I, only service.

"I'm afraid that's not your problem, my prince." When he continued to bar your way, your tone rose considerably. "Let me go."

"No."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”

"I don't know."

"You don’t know? Do you want to mess up my life for something you don't know about?"

“You are disturbing your life, what do you think your lord father will do if he discovers your nocturnal wanderings?”

“Do you dare tell?”

“Do you think I should?”

"No."

“So return to your chambers, my lady.”

Your beautiful eyes, before indifferent, now replicated the feeling of the last time they crossed paths: anger. Your jaw clenched as harsh words tumbled from your mouth.

“It's easy for you to act like that. You’re not trapped in an unhappy engagement and you will not spend the rest of your days in a decrepit castle in the north serving solely to birth the children of an old man who cares nothing for me, beyond the name and youth I carry.” Your lip trembled as a lone tear threatened to stain you cheek. "You don't understand and you never will."

Even though Aemond's recurrent pity for the situation softened him, urged him to touch your face and calm your heart, he remained impassive, erect, without moving a hair.

“My mother married an older man.” His words were emotionless, conscious of weight and meaning.

"I'm not your mother." You protested irritably. “Let me go, Aemond, please.”

“I can not, my lady.”

He didn't expect so much fury from your small body when you tried to break through the barrier he imposed. His long hands held you forearms firmly but gently.

“I don't want to hurt you, my lady.”

“You’re already doing it.” There were no obstacles to stop the tears from escaping your eyes. He felt awful, truly awful. “My wedding is in a month and you are trying to deprive me of seeing the world beyond these walls.”

“Did you intend to go alone today? Are you out of your mind my lady, don't you know how dangerous it is out there for someone like you? These people are wild and freeloaders. Your brother is a fool for showing you this world.”

“My brother is the most honorable man I know. You are a fool for trying to control my life. Get out of my way!"

"Where is he?"

“None of your business.”

Yes. It says. He doesn't know why, he doesn't know why he cares, seven hells he doesn't know why he keeps holding your body so close. He just needs to do what he has to do: maintain your honor and safety. So he hates himself all over again when your eyes widen at the threat of telling your father in exchange for your brother's location. He could feel your body tense again in pure derision. He hates himself for it.

“At the intersection between the castle and the city.” Your tone was meek, weak and whiny. “Don't do anything to him, please.”

Releasing your wrists, Aemond forced himself not to caress your face and wipe away your sadness. “I will not, my lady. But you have to promise me you won't do that again.”

“Why, Aemond? Why are you doing this?"

“Just promise me.”

"No. I will not submit to you. Do not speak to me again.”

Your name was tossed to the wind as your legs stormed towards your chambers. Who does he think he is? You wouldn't let another man dictate the reins of your life. No. Not now that you've tasted the sweetest piece of freedom.

That night Aemond went to meet your brother, surprising him. He was a fool, utterly, what kind of man would expose a lady as exquisite as yourself to the low environment of the flea bottom?

“Why do you care?” Your good brother questioned truly intrigued.

"It does not matter. Yo-"

"Yes. Matter yes. What are your intentions with my sister?”

Perhaps the prince overestimated his effect on people, for your brother was undeterred.

“What are your intentions with my sister, my prince?” He insisted.

“I have no intentions with your sister, my lord.”

“I saw how you looked at her a while ago, when we were with my father and her bridgeroom” Your brother recalled. “And now this. How often do you watch the other nobles, my prince?”

Even with the one-eyed prince's newly stiffened posture, your brother continued.

“If you wish to marry my sister, I need to know that you would treat her well, as I might deal with my lord father.”

Tempting.

"I don't need your interference."

“So you admit your intentions?”

Aemond took a deep breath. He hated being confronted in such a way, especially when there was substantiation in the insinuations hurled at him. And when did that happen? When did he develop intentions for you? You, who were never special. You weren't a dragon and you weren't blood of old Valyria. And yet, you were the only lady who cleared his eyes on cloudy nights. You, a pretty, fearless little thing with expressive eyes and tempting lips. You were beautiful and he knew so little about you. Not that family and blood bullshit, but about you, who are you when the owl sings? He was intrigued and tempted. He needed to meet you.

“If you have something to say, come to me. If not, just stay out of my sister's life, she has enough unhappiness to worry about.”

He didn't want your unhappiness.

The prince's steps towards the red keep were relentless like the confusion in his heart. He doesn't understand the origin of feelings and what he really feels for you, but he knows he does. He feels. He wants to wrap your body and dry your tears, he wants to unravel your thoughts and personality. What did you like? What did you think of him? Who were you? Would you be able to love him as lord husband and man?

Aemond tried to be silent as he knocked on your bedroom door, breathing heavily. He would never forgive himself for tarnishing your reputation, no matter how much he wanted to kiss you as soon as he opened the door with tense hands dressed in a white bedclothes. You were angelic. It was almost a sin to touch your skin with dubious intentions.

Your nervous eyes failed to see him motionless, toes curling in response. You didn't expect him back, you didn't expect to see him there. Aemond Targaryen was not Aegon Targaryen, he did not hunt palace maidens like a predator, nor did he make sexual passes for noble ladies. He was polite, reserved and observant.

No lady has ever dared to breach his barrier, and he himself has never dishonored any woman. Still, he was at your door at owl time with heavy breathing and an uncertain look. When you remained silent and did not invite him in, the prince's hands took his own, making a lingering thumb stroke. Your gaze widened, mouth opening the tiniest bit as he walked slowly into your chambers and closed the door.

“I don't know how I developed this feeling that tightens my chest when I think of you, but I can't pretend it doesn't affect me.” Aemond initiated. “I want to touch your face, finger your lip and take you as mine. My lady wife.”

If it were possible for your eyes to open wider, you would. You inhaled deeply, mouth opening in confusion. Aemond Targaryen was pleading with you. He was… he wanted… to marry you.

Oh.

“Do you… do you want to marry me?” Your tone was low, calm and smooth.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Would you talk to my father?”

"Yes.”

You don't know how or why the prince wants to join you in marriage. You don't even know why you got excited internally with the idea, besides beauty, blood and reputation, you don't know him. You don't know who Aemond is. But you could know.

Before he could react, your lips were on his vividly. He was handsome, young and imponent. So attractive.

“I won't have time to meet you. And if you regret it?” You whispered into his lips.

“If that happens, I will give you time to find another bridegroom to your liking. Even if I believe that will not happen.” He sealed his lips to yours, his big hands cupping your face. “Be mine, my lady.”

Yes.

“Yes, my prince. Make me yours.”

[optiwashere]

On the topic of Nocturne/Shadowheart: is that how Blades in the Night is going to go? I guess this is spoilers so maybe you won't answer, but is it going to be Asheera/Shadowheart/Nocturne?

Heya anon! 💜

Well, I won't spoil anything about what's left to come in the fic, but that's just not a dynamic that I want to write for Asheera. It wouldn't fit her, to be honest. She's, I'm sure to the sorrow of many, monogamous anyways. So it wouldn't exactly make sense for her to get into a long-term relationship with multiple people at once.

Now, you can feel however you want to feel and think whatever you want to think, obviously. I can't stop you from shipping something (that'd be a bit weird for someone that writes fanfic to do...)

I merely think it's sweeter to imagine that Asheera and Nocturne can be friends and that Shadowheart and Nocturne can be past lovers without it needing to become a throuple situation in that universe. There's plenty of other universes where Shadowheart and Nocturne get together, and infinitely many where Shadowheart/Nocturne/someone else's Tav get together, and I think it's all lovely. Asheera wants Nocturne to pull away from Shar to come live with them because of what it means to Shadowheart, not because of anything romantic between the two of them. Shadowheart herself wants nothing more than Nocturne to come along, to be honest.

So now they've got another goal in that fic other than "don't die." That, and tying up some other post-canon ideas, was the whole genesis for the Nocturne plot added on top of the "fend off Sharran assassins" plot that started the fic.

Plus, I like the idea that ex-lovers (or whatever Shadowheart and Nocturne were in your mind, it's completely open to interpretation in canon) can be friends afterwards and actually remain friends without it being romantic. They can still love each other in a platonic way! Platonic love doesn't get enough play in fiction, and I want to include Nocturne in my idea for Asheera and Shadowheart's post-canon bliss because it gives me a good way to showcase a type of love that Shadowheart and Nocturne both deserve.

I'm not trying to imply that you're saying that they all have to be together, by the way. I just rambled because it's natural.

[ache-of-saint-vick]

Since I'm building up to run a Ravenloft campaign using Shadowdark rules at some point this year, I wrote up a setting-appropriate Rumors table; this reflects 3e-era lore because the Arthaus era fucks and 5e sucks. Without further ado,

Rumors of the Mists:

01. The Count of Barovia is sick, and there's fear of a succession crisis if he dies without an heir

02-03. A new island has been sighted in the Sea of Sorrows, and it appears to be uninhabited

04-05. The prettiest girl in the last town you visited is starting to grow horns from her forehead

06-07. Gravediggers have found a chained coffin buried lid down in an unmarked grave

08-09. The fearsome dragon of the Mountains of Misery was sighted silhouetted against the moon

10-11. The Vistani dragged some poor fool back to Barovia for a "family reunion" at Castle Ravenloft

12-13. Captain Ysmault has been lost at sea; his poor wife is being hounded by creditors

14-15. Falkovnian chain gangs are being used to forage for bat guano and saltpeter; is war coming?

16-17. Foul horrors of undeath are swimming out of the Necropolis to terrorize the living

18-19. The Ba'al Verzi have been hired to kill someone who looks exactly like one of you

20-21. Gundarakite rebels are spending lots of money. Where did they get it? What's their plan?

22-23. Captain Ysmault has returned! He says his ship somehow ran aground in a landlocked desert

24-25. Omens suggest the inhuman El-Koth are stirring in the hinterlands of Hazlan

26-27. One crypt in the cemetery doesn't belong to any family, and has treasure buried inside

28-29. Someone in the next town wants to run away but can't subdue a Mist Ferryman alone

30-31. Baroness Lyssa is hosting a party in Zeidenburg, but needs guests willing to travel there

32-33. A new Mistway opened on the Nocturnal Sea; nobody wants to risk a ship to explore it

34-35. The Dilisnya family is summoning younger members to a meeting; what are they planning?

36-37. A Zhakatan temple has been unearthed, and the ancient dead enshrined in it are angry

38-39. The Wild Hunt Club of Vechor has lost one of its guides and is looking for a replacement

40-41. Someone is sending abhorrent love letters to the Vistani camped around Tser Pool

42-43. Two women on the mainland are feuding to be the bride of Blaustein's pirate king

44-45. Werewolves are attacking Captain Snowmane's riverboat as it sails the Musarde

46-47. Bodies are being found in the river in Lekar, completely drained of blood

48-49. Only thirteen years remain until the Time of Unparalleled Darkness is upon us

50-51. A windmill in Barovia is grinding the bones of everyone who's gone inside to investigate it

52-53. Captain Ysmault is setting forth again

54-55. The Darkonian Church of Ezra has ordered its faithful to stockpile nonperishable foods

56-57. A gambler won the deed to the House on Gryphon Hill playing Thieves and Wizards (yes I know it's called Wizards and Thieves, but Thieves and Wizards flows better)

58-59. Someone is kidnapping men and replacing them with cursed dolls

60-61. The druids of Immol will enchant a blade for whoever leads a raid into the Forlorn Vale

62-63. A boatload of immigrants has arrived from famished Paridon... with impostors among them

64-65. Rats and ratcatchers in Pont-a-Museau are contracting a disease that drives them mad

66-67. A swordsman from Rokushima has claimed a bridge and demands to duel any who cross it

68-69. The Boritsi family is offering a reward for the return of a holy relic from their chapel

70-71. The tyrant of Invidia's troops have raided Zeidenburg; the Count of Barovia is threatening war

72-73. Elf children are having nightmares about a white tower looming over a mysterious city

74-75. Someone is poisoning unopened Borcan wine; this could be the next Andraal 735 fiasco

76-77. A hideous man with half his body melted has been sighted in the seamy slums of Kantora

78-79. The mayor is being very evasive about where they were during the last two full moons

80-81. Outlanders seek a sword Rudolph Van Richten brought back from Barovia as a trophy

82-83. The moon over Vechor turned blood red and lightning flashes are visible on it at night

84-85. Have you heard the new Harkon Lukas song? It's a wonder the composer hasn't come forward

86-87. A power struggle is brewing between two high-ranking leaders of the Kargat

88-89. A mad monk has been caught in the act of burglary and refuses to explain why

90-91. For the first time in years, the Carnival is headed back down the Old Svalich Road

92-93. The prettiest girl in the next town is sleepwalking and waking up on Old Craven's grave

94-95. The Tepestani Inquisition warns that a vile fey of darkness has escaped and roams the land

96-97. Honest Igor was just here the other day, but left in a hurry when he heard you were coming

98-99. A freestanding staircase with a door at the top has been sighted in the forest nearby

00. Azalin Rex has hired someone to explore the furthest corners of the Mists for unclear reasons

[dragonedged-if]

SURPISEDDDDD!!!!

Hello my lovely Readers! :)

I know I'm been gone for a long time my summer class and moving to a new location has taken a toll on me and started to drain my creativity. Plus not giving much time to write.

Mind you I will be busy in the few months or so but in the meantime I decided to rewrite this ask I received in the past few years.

It's a Luna ask for my Royal Asset IF.

Enjoy and if you want send me some angsty ask or sappy stuff for my 3 IF's I might not reply back instantly. However I will answer it ASAP.

(Luna's POV)

Under the radiant moon shining brightly above the tranquil night sky, Luna found herself standing in the palace garden, surrounded by an ethereal glow that seemed to mirror her inner turmoil. Her heart felt like a wild beast, beating furiously, its rhythm resonating with the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. She had vowed not to let her emotions steer her actions, but the allure of MC was too potent to resist.

In the presence of MC, Luna's composure shattered like fragile glass. Her nerves trembled at every word they spoke, and her breath hitched when their eyes met. Just being near them brought an overwhelming sense of joy that filled her very being. But in the moments when they were apart, a hollow emptiness gripped her, leaving her longing for their presence.

As the night grew darker, she cursed herself for arranging this meeting, yet she couldn't help but seek closure. Luna's hands clenched and unclenched with anxiety as she awaited MC's arrival, her mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. Even though she had one simple question to ask, fear gripped her heart, and she felt like a blacksmith hammering her emotions down, desperately trying to forge some semblance of control.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the stillness, calling her name from behind. Luna's heart leaped in her chest as she turned to face MC. Their impatient gaze felt like a scorching furnace, fanning the flames of her inner conflict.

"MC," she replied, her voice betraying her vulnerability as she gave a slight nod.

"What's the reason for this late-night meeting?" MC inquired, their tone revealing a hint of irritation.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment, Luna attempted to steady herself. This was the moment she had been dreading, when her heart's desire would collide with the cruel reality of MC's feelings.

"MC, I need to know… Do you have feelings for me?" Her words rang out like the clang of metal against metal, resonating with the intensity of her emotions.

MC's expression remained impassive, their eyes cold and distant. Luna's heart hammered louder, fearing the words that would escape their lips. The moon's glow seemed to dim as a cloud of anguish enveloped her, and she could feel her worth being hammered down with every agonizing second of silence that followed.

Under the shimmering moon, the garden's once-faint light now seemed to waver in uncertainty as Luna stood, her heart pounding like war drum accompanied by the sound of a thousand soldiers marching to war. Her eyes pleaded for a different truth as she confronted MC, hoping against hope for a glimmer of compassion. But the laughter that spilled from MC's lips was like a cold gust of wind, chilling her to the bone.

"Hahaha, feelings for you, you say?" MC's voice dripped with cruel amusement. "NO, Luna! I DON’T HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU!" Each word was enunciated deliberately, cutting deep into her soul.

The surge of anger that welled up within Luna was accompanied by confusion, as if her emotions were locked in a fierce internal battle. She couldn't fathom why she had allowed herself to hope for something more, to anticipate a different outcome. Yet, the question she had asked now haunted her, echoing through her mind like a haunting melody she couldn't escape.

"Why?" Luna's voice trembled with defeat, cracking under the weight of her emotions. She met MC's unyielding gaze, seeking an explanation that might lessen the pain.

Their eyes bore into hers without remorse, fueled by a deep-rooted fury. "You sacrifice everyone for your work," MC accused, the words cutting through her like shards of ice. "Even innocent people who did nothing to you!"

As much as Luna tried to deny it, she couldn't dismiss the truth in their words. The very nature of her responsibilities demanded tough decisions, often leaving scars on her conscience. Her heart pounded louder, the clanging echo resounding in her ears as if attempting to drown out the harsh reality.

"I will never have feelings for you as long as I have breath," MC's words were laced with bitterness, their disdain apparent in every syllable. "My flame for you is completely extinguished forever more. You're a heartless monster, and you don't deserve love!"

Luna felt her chest constrict, her breath catching in her throat. The anguish and torment she had buried within herself surged forth, like molten lava threatening to consume her. She wanted to protest, to plead for understanding, but the words were stuck, suffocated by the weight of their accusations.

Watching MC turn their back on her, Luna felt the weight of their rejection, a thousand invisible chains binding her to a painful reality. Tears blurred her vision, distorting the moonlit landscape into a watery canvas of heartache.

"You're a monster and you don't deserve love," their words echoed in the night air, each syllable piercing her like a thousand needles. Luna crumbled, her heart torn between the desire to refute their claims and the painful acknowledgment that they were right.

Alone in the garden, she clung to the moon's comforting glow, seeking solace in its cool embrace. The turmoil of conflicting emotions within her raged like a tempest, tearing at her soul. Every step MC took away from her felt like another blow, leaving Luna to confront the harsh reality that some wounds might never heal, and some hearts might remain forever broken.

The words that had cut Luna's heart like a million blades continued to echo in the silent night air, haunting her very being. She sank to her knees, her hands instinctively reaching for her face as tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs escaping uncontrollably. The pain was overwhelming, the anguish unbearable, and she felt as though her soul had been shattered into countless pieces.

For what seemed like an eternity, Luna remained on her knees, letting her heart pour out its grief. Each sob felt like an ocean wave crashing against her soul, eroding away the edges of her vulnerability. The relentless waves forged an unyielding resolve within her, sculpting her emotions into a hardened fortress. Her worth had been stripped away like sand by the wind, her hopes and desires scattered like ashes, fanned by the scorching wildfire of MC's gaze, which had branded her as nothing more than a heartless specter, undeserving of love.

In this surreal landscape of emotions, Luna felt like a lone tree standing against a howling storm. The tempest of rejection threatened to uproot her, yet she remained steadfast, her roots digging deeper into the soil of her inner strength. The storm had torn away the delicate petals of her heart, leaving behind thorns of determination and self-preservation.

Her tears were like crystalline raindrops, each one carrying the weight of her shattered dreams. The rain mingled with the garden soil, forming a muddy path beneath her, as if nature itself wept for her pain. Luna's sobs echoed through the night, harmonizing with the haunting melodies of the nocturnal creatures, creating a symphony of sorrow.

Finally, as her tears subsided, Luna wiped her eyes with a trembling hand. In that moment, she made a vow, her voice carrying the weight of determination and finality. "This is the last time I will let my emotions get the best of me," she declared. Her heart hammered loudly, dreading the memories of MC's cruel rejection. "I don't need love. I am a weapon, and I will do my duty above all else."

Her words seemed to echo through the vast expanse of the garden, as if nature itself bore witness to her transformation. Luna's resolve was firm, yet beneath the surface, conflicting emotions raged. Her heart yearned for love and acceptance, but her mind was steadfast in the belief that she was destined to be a tool, an instrument of duty and sacrifice.

Epilogue - MC's POV

In the aftermath of that fateful night, MC couldn't shake the image of Luna's heartbreak. Despite the cruelty they had shown, a part of them wondered if they had gone too far. Luna seemed to change after that encounter, and while they expected her to be shattered and broken, they were surprised to find her smiling more frequently.

But this newfound smile sent shivers down MC's spine. It wasn't a smile of joy or contentment, but rather one of satisfaction, tinged with something darker. Luna's eyes held an intensity that seemed to pierce through the soul, and when their gazes locked, MC couldn't help but shudder under its weight.

As they observed Luna, they couldn't help but wonder if this transformation would lead to something worse or even demonic. Her determination to be a weapon above all else was admirable, but it came at the cost of burying her emotions deeper. MC pondered if this suppression would eventually manifest into something far more sinister.

Only time would reveal the truth, but for now, MC couldn't escape the unsettling feeling that Luna's heartache had unleashed a dormant darkness within her, one that would forever alter the course of their future interactions with one another. Yet, the questions that rings in MC's mind of all the rest, will they survived through this ordeal?

[a-deadly-serenade]

nocturne review, ramblings

obvs spoilers for the show down below.

so, i'm gonna be real with y'all; i dont think i would have watched this if not for one of my mutuals spilling the beans about alucard making an appearance 💀 s4 was ok and a fine conclusion to the og castlevania that started this animated franchise, but i dont think i will ever get over the absolute fumble and frankly, insulting way they wrapped up s3. even s4 had its cringe moments, like lenore getting a peaceful sendoff and carmilla getting to kill herself. but, i digress. i was going into nocturne with an already negative mindset and that may have made me more critical of the show. can u blame me though? lmao

i had seen a few clips and screenshots on twitter when they dropped the first 3 eps early and... they only helped solidify my decision to remain skeptical of the staff's writing capabilities. shit was already a little hazy and wishy-washy with their portrayal of isaac in s2 and how they treated hector thruought the show (not to mention the two asian-coded characters in s3). let's just say, the netflix castlevania team doesnt have the greatest track record when it comes to writing poc characters. so, when i saw screengrabs just outright stating that this show was going to deal with historically accurate racism? hm.

obvs as a white woman, i can only go so far on this criticism of the writing, but i dont really understand why they needed to include this? the comparisons and allegory of freedom from indentured servitude to the french revolution, was very weak and bare bones at best. you can keep the motif of the church existing on exploitation and blood of the people-- a whole cross section of the world was involved in the crusades, which is the priests & his entourages whole deal--but, why couldnt annette just be a witch? why did this "historical accuracy" need to get involved with the time period? bcuz the french revolution was name dropped? your main villain is a hungarian countess from the 16th century that made a pact with an EGYPTIAN goddess to become all powerful. like.

and also..... why the FUCK are vampires getting involved with the intercontinental slave trade bro??? 😭 theyre immortal beings that have seen the rise and fall of empires and can do whatever tf they want and go wherever tf they want and they choose to..... own a plantation? give af abut the economy? with selling goods??? okkkkk. also, this line of dialogue is insane to me:

you cant have a central theme of your story be standing up against the oppressors and then make said oppressors fantastical monsters. what kills me is that they've delved into the monstrosity of humanity in s1 and s2, and yet, when you bring in one of the most monstrous things humanity has ever done in its history for the sake of historical accuracy, you turn the very perpetrators into something mythical, and evil that the common folk had no chance of ever defeating even if they tried. its just overall, very messy and they certainly were not the creative team to try and tackle something like this.

speaking of, the writing, again, it definitely left something to be desired. there are moments that are good, don't get me wrong. episode 6 is a particular favorite of mine, shining through with its wonderful character moments b/w annette's soul searching with her ancestors, richter and juste's heart to heart, and olrox's confessions to mizrak. tera's sacrifice to ensure maria's safety is also really well done, as well as maria's final confrontation with her father in the church. however, these were fewer and farther between than i would have liked. a lot of the scenes that played out just fine, were ultimately sullied by this series' incessant need to insert swearing into every other sentence. its something that bothered me nearing the end of s4 especially, and i've just grown tired of it. it honestly takes me out of the scene to constantly hear fuck thrown out every 2 seconds for literally... no reason. i promise y'all can write meaningful and impactful dialogue without having your characters swear lmao

the writing itself is what unfortunately makes the first half of the show kind of drag a bit. the story doesn't really know what it wants to do. none of these new characters are really given time to breathe and be really fleshed out, bcuz every time things settle down and we're given the chance to learn more about their motivations, its like they're almost scared they'll lose your attention and any down time is immediately followed up with an intense action sequence. which, dont get me wrong, if theres one thing they dont disappoint with--its the action. but, i dont think that was ever up for debate to begin with. however, i believe that the characters really suffer bcuz of this. if you've never played the games, which, i believe most people tuning in to watch these series never have, you would have no idea who maria or richter are, and, i really don't think they were given enough time to be fleshed out. half the time, richter's dialogue just ends up being naive, walmart trevor belmont sarcastic one-liners and poor maria ping-pongs b/w the blandest, generic, wonderbread toutings of 'revolution' or calling richter a dick, wanker, or anything in b/w. episode 6, one of the better episodes as mentioned previously, is where we really get to see some actual growth around richter especially. there were moments where his trauma could have been further explored earlier, but they kind of got shoved to the wayside in favor of dragging out the interworking bw all the villains. which.....

if i'm gonna talk about the villains. my initial thoughts were that nocturne was going to be a one-and-done, standalone series with its own self contained story that would be wrapped up in these 8 episodes. i was wrong. and i really dont know how they're going to keep this story going. erzsebet is already a very weak and uninteresting and, honestly, confusing ? villain? for more than half of the series, she's talked about as the mysterious and all powerful Messiah and theyre gathering all these sacrifices for her to bring her back and create an army of night creatures. why is she considered powerful? bcause she made a pact with Sekhmet, an egyptian goddess. why did she do this? who knows! why does she have such a devoted cult of loyal followers when she hasnt done anything but kill a lot of people? again, who knows. why did maria's father think that a VAMPIRE would keep him in cahoots during this whole plan and not immediately fuck him over once she got what she wanted...? who fucking knows. olrox is the most interesting of the villains but even he isnt fully explored. the motivations are just not really explained very well and the buildup to erzsebet's arrival was so sudden that i literally thought i missed an entire episode. one minute, shes hiding in the shadows and the next ? waltzing in on a golden chariot and being heralded as the people's savior?? so damn messy and honestly? i really could not have cared less about her. which is insane to say, bcuz shes literally based off of a real countess who's case and life were a special interest of mine. i just... why an EGYPTIAN goddess?? shes from HUNGARY. were there no goddesses in europe to pull from she could have made a pact with? idk man it just makes no damn sense.

i am definitely more than a little peeved that this wasn't even the complete story, bcuz they did such a poor job establishing erzsebet as a villain, that i really dont give af what crazy shit they come up with to extend the story. you show her being a big badass in the very last episode. ok, you as an audience member, are immediately shown why dracula is so feared within the first 10 minutes of the first episode. and all of that wasnt even HIM fighting!!! the worst thing i've seen miss countess bathory do over here is summon a crazy orb and turn into a furry. like, where is the story going to go from here? they fight tera? save edouard and have a night creature alliance? make maria or alucard (yes, i'll get to him) summon the portal again? which btw... machine from HELL? im not even gonna touch that can of worms. somehow bring olrox back to.....? help kill bathory? idfk

and man...... i was hoping against hope that when i found out alucard was going to make an appearance, that it was just going to be some neat little cameo at the v end of the series after the main story had concluded. a little nod, a little treat to the audience that the next series would be encompassing the events of symphony of the night. maybe we'd even get a depiction of maria and richter when theyre older, i dont know, anything but throwing him in there as an overpowered hail mary to save the day. we couldnt just let these new characters figure it out and triumph in their own way? we had to drag him into this, now? i cant even tell you how disappointed i was when i saw that sword pierce drolta. ME! the resident alucard fan since i was like mf elementary school!!! ugh.

i think this is it for me and netflix castlevania lmao im a grumpy old man and miss when it was mainly fun easter eggs to the games, like how they brought in juste or how olrox turns into a big green monster and has an attack that sends flying skulls your way, or the REMIX of RICHTER'S THEME!!! but its just gotten so silly and the writing hasnt gotten any better..... from now on, im going to simply stick to the games that made me fall in love with this series in the first place & let this be the last time i ever feel the need to bitch about new 'netflixvania' content.

[jupyt3r]

Yellow

Set between Acts 2 and 3, Wyll confronts Astarion about the Rite of Profane Ascension; Astarion realizes that they have more in common than meets the eye.

It's nice to see the stars again, he thinks, after so many days spent cloaked in the gloomy, arcane shadows that had marred the landscape nearly from Elturel to Anga Vled. He'd only just gotten used to the sun's warmth when they'd entered the dark cloud, somehow so oppressive as to be almost tangible; like breathing in curls of steam, if steam were cold and necrotic. But the air is clear now. Clear enough, in fact, that he can see the whole of the Gate sprawled out on the horizon, the warm glow of candles and cantrips a lively reflection of so many icy stars above. An all too familiar silhouette looms menacingly from its perch along the curve of the lower city’s central wall, and Astarion has to quash the fear rising up in his throat as his eyes skate past it. He has a plan. A real one, now. When he gets to Baldur's Gate, he will ascend, and Cazador will be no more.

But he's not in Bladur’s Gate, yet. The gray stones of Wyrm’s Lookout are cool beneath him, warmed ineffectively by the dying coals in front of him. It's late, and the others have gone to bed. He considers curling up on his bedroll to trance, but suddenly there's sounds of movement from down below, where the camp has been set up. Rustling of blankets; shuffling footsteps. A pause. Then the clink of buckles on a pack being undone, the whisper of canvas as something is removed. The footsteps are heading for him now, ascending the ladder to the roof of the squat tower where Astarion is sprawled by the remains of his fire. The breeze carries a scent towards him, and it's all yellow: lightly floral, lemony, golden honey-mead middle notes, and a barely discernible undertone of brimstone. Sickeningly sweet. Sunshine-sour. Sulfurous.

Wyll Ravengard lowers himself wordlessly to the ground next to him, uncorking the bottle he's brought with him and taking a swig. Looking up at the stars, he proffers the amber liquid to Astarion. At first, he screws up his face and prepares to decline, but then thinks better of it; he takes a long pull. It's exactly the sort of drink he'd expect to find in one of the lavish estates of the Upper City, and he's not even sure how Wyll had managed to procure it: aged whiskey, peppery, vanilla, biting. It's not good. It's strong, though, and he figures that's what they're both after.

“Nightmares, is it then, darling?" he says dully, passing the bottle back.

Wyll shakes his head. “Actually, unless you count our nocturnal visitor, I haven't dreamt at all since this," he replies as he taps his forehead and sighs. ”Just couldn't sleep, is all.”

Astarion's question had been rhetorical and he doesn't much care to hear about whatever's ailing the restless warlock, so he doesn't deign to respond. Wyll starts talking anyway.

“I haven't seen my father in almost seven years. I keep running over in my head how it could go when we find him– gods, if we find him alive. I don't know how I'll feel. Angry? Relieved? Maybe he won't even want my help, when he sees these horns. But I have to try.”

"Hm.” Astarion truly wishes he had not asked. The quiet solitude of his night seems out of reach now. Last month, he'd have counted himself mad if someone had told him that his nights would consist of wrangling an owlbear cub to bed or listening to the laments of Duke Ravengard’s wayward son.

"Do you have anyone you're looking forward to seeing in the city, Astarion? A lover, perhaps?”

Oh, no. He is not having this discussion at all. He shoots Wyll a glare that hopes is interpreted as daggers coming out of his eyes. “Oh, yes. Hundreds. I'm adored by many people, you see."

The daggers fall flat against the shield of Wyll’s earnestness, or stupidity, whichever it be. “Oh, I have no doubt about that. Family, then? Parents?"

“No." Astarion can't remember his father, or even if he knew one to begin with. Seeing Wyll's discomfort, he thinks maybe that's for the best.

“What about Cazador's other spawn?"

He's had enough. “My ‘siblings’ should consider themselves lucky that their miserable lives will serve a higher purpose, for when I see them next, they will live their last.”

Finally, Wyll tightens his lips into a thin line, seeing that he's struck a nerve. Rather than back down, he needles it. "Siblings, though? So they are family to you?”

“It's not my chosen wording, it's– Ravengard, did you come up here just to bother me about my personal life?”

Wyll puts his hands up in surrender. “I'm just trying to make conversation, is all. And I have to admit, I've been curious about your relationship with them, and your plan, since you told us about the ritual. This… Rite of Profane Ascension. The name is a little on the nose, no?"

Astarion can't fathom why he'd take any interest in the plan beyond what would be expected of him for his involvement– which was very little. Either he'd help or he wouldn't, but that has no bearing on the decision Astarion has already made. "What would you have it be then, hm?” he asks. " The Rite of Puppies and Sunshine?”

"Listen, all I'm saying is that if it sounds downright evil and it's a contract drafted with a godsdamned devil, then maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be. Trust me, I would know. It just seems… nefarious in nature.” His mismatched eyes beseech him in silent plea.

He can't be serious. Astarion flops over dramatically, the back of his hand raising to meet his forehead as his eyes flutter shut. "Oh! At last, the famed Blade of Frontiers has come to save me from my own incompetence. My very soul is in danger– well, if there's still one to speak of, that is.” He peeks out of one eye at the last sentence, flashing a catlike smile.

The Blade of Frontiers purses his lips. “I'm being serious, Astarion. And while, yes, I am concerned about how this affects you, it's not just your life we're talking about.”

He scoffs, returning to his lounging position. "I'd be doing you a personal favor by carrying out this ritual. Six spawn and a full vampire lord disposed of, and you don't even need to lift a finger! What more could any monster hunter want?”

“To not create an even greater monster." He turns away, looking pointedly at the coals. The dim glow reflects off the dark sclera of his good eye.

Astarion suddenly understands the aim of the confrontation. Wyll’s not concerned about him, not really, but about the threat of unleashing a vampire ascendant; a wholly unknown type of being which exists entirely at odds with his naïve philosophy. He's still trying to play the hero– but Astarion knows that heroes don't exist.

He raises himself to a sitting position on his knees and spreads his arms wide. "Stake me now then, if you're so concerned.”

And Wyll looks like he really considers it, which stings a bit. Eventually, he says in a pained voice, "You have to understand the dilemma I have. Astarion, I don't want to go against you. But you confound me.” He shakes his head, running a hand up his braids between the horns. “On the one hand, if you don't perform this ritual, then it's easier for me to believe that a vampire is capable of good; but it also leaves alive seven vampires, one of whom I know is not good by virtue of your description of him. On the other hand, if you do go through with this, then maybe you are a monster. And while it's true the world would be net negative vampires, it would be hard for me to… trust you, after that. If you would sacrifice your siblings for power, the people you've spent two hundred years with, who's to say you would stop there?”

Astarion pouts in mock pity. "Aw, have we discovered what morally gray means?”

Wyll's fists gather on his thighs. "Don't condescend me, Astarion! I've dedicated my life to protecting the people of the Sword Coast, and I'm trying to do that here while giving you the benefit of the doubt because you're my friend.”

And that surprises him, because he hadn't considered them friends. He'd only recently stopped worrying about being staked in his sleep; although maybe that was a mistake. "Which is it, then? Am I a friend or a monster?”

"You tell me.”

Astarion is furious, then. What right does Wyll have to sit there and demand that he justify his own continued existence? As if he hadn't made his own deal with the devil? As if he were a hero, when no one is truly that good? If it were possible, then Astarion would have been saved long ago. Wyll's too late. Astarion would be his own savior now.

“I think," he snarls, “you're a sniveling pup poking his nose where it doesn't belong. I think you're an insufferable hypocrite to threaten me with the borrowed power of a devil. And I think you'll regret it if you cross me, because I'm going to live. I'm going to endure. I will ascend."

Wyll matches his intensity, nostrils flaring. “And I think you're making the wrong choice because you're afraid. You're too weak to do the right thing.”

Astarion is practically animal, hinged forward and fangs bared, because somewhere buried deep he knows the warlock is right. “Don't you dare think for a moment that you could presume my emotions. You are an infant. You could not conceive of the centuries of torture I have endured, the fetid conditions in which I was kept, the things I had to do to stay alive. I am claiming my right to be free; and to make sure I am never a slave to anyone else, ever again. And if that makes me a monster, then so be it."

“Just because I am human does not mean I don't understand what it is to be used. To be trapped. We both have our masters."

Wyll's voice is soft and flat; a hand rubs absentmindedly at his throat, and Astarion sees him for what he is beneath the heroic charade: a child, yes, but one who's lost his father, one who's under the thumb of a devil. He feels a little bad for yelling; but not that bad.

“Then you understand that I have to do this. No matter the cost. If given the opportunity, would you not make sacrifices to be free of Mizora?”

Wyll's response is immediate and resolute. “No. I agreed to this pact, and I would do the same if I was faced with the choice again. I may not have known the details at the time, but that's no one's fault but my own. I would not have anyone suffer for it."

“Then you are a fool. Can't you see that she tricked you? You were too young to soundly make that decision, however she coerced you into it." Gods, he can't imagine defending Cazador like that. He finds that he pities Wyll; so desperate to hide from the fact that he'd been taken advantage of that he tries to look strong by bearing the needless guilt, by indulging in this foolish fairy-tale heroism when he can't even save himself. The Blade of Frontiers is just a story he tells himself so he can sleep at night– and his presence here is only evidence to the fact that it isn't working.

Wyll has been silent, eyes scanning the horizon after taking another deep drink of the whiskey. After a time, he reaches out and points toward the base of Dusthawk Hill, a towering black silhouette which manifests mainly as a lack of stars. "That's where it happened, seven years ago. I told Tav the whole story earlier; Mizora granted me that, at least. In my father's absence, a cult made a move to summon Tiamat to Toril. The city would have fallen to the Dragon Queen; Mizora warned me just in time, and gave me the power to save it. Whatever price I have to pay is worth the lives of everyone in Baldur's Gate– so sacrificing more lives to undo my choice would render it meaningless. Besides, I've saved more lives with my patron’s power than I could have otherwise. I will bear it for their sake." 

How boringly predictable. “And how do you know that Mizora didn't set the whole thing up? That she didn't tip the cultists off about your father's absence, precisely so you could fall into her waiting claws?"

He pauses as if he's genuinely never considered it before. “I suppose I don't. But what's done is done, and there's no use wishing it had gone differently. I can only hope to use these infernal powers for good now, when I'm not busy playing her games."

“You are hopelessly dull. Look at what she's done to you!"

“I–” he stops himself, and lets his face fall, realization finally setting in. “You're right. She's fashioned me into one of the very villains I'm sworn to hunt. I saw the way all those tieflings in the Grove looked at me– I can't imagine how my father will see me. I hardly recognize myself." He brushes a few fingers softly over one horned temple, releasing Astarion from the hellfire of his gaze.

Astarion runs his tongue along his fangs, remembering his own unpleasant transformation; the pain as his body healed over the fatal wounds, the feeling of his own blood drying up and cooling in his veins, and the gaping silence from where his heart was that would take years to get used to. He can’t imagine being dragged through each layer of the Hells had been any more pleasant.

“I can… sympathize," he says hesitantly, not even knowing why he wants to offer comfort to the man who's still deciding whether or not to kill him. “I'm not sure I would recognize myself, either, if I could see my own reflection. But for what it's worth, the horns do look quite flattering on you."

He looks a bit surprised at the compliment, which Astarion supposes is reasonable given the insults he's been hurling up until this point in the conversation. “... Thank you, Astarion. I'm sure if you could see yourself, you'd find yourself just as dashing as in your mortal life. I mean that– from one red-eyed fiend to another.”

And as much as Astarion is frustrated by Wyll's storybook prince persona, his annoying black-or-white morality, he admits that parts of him are the closest he's come in a long time to looking in a mirror. He has a plan towards his own salvation, and he can't help but want the same for Wyll. "You know… In my mortal life, I was a magistrate. If– Don't snort, it's unbecoming. One must have respect for the law’s intricacies to know how to escape its consequences. As I was saying, if Mizora has now freed you to discuss the terms of your pact… I would be willing to look over it for you. Perhaps there's a loophole. One that follows your rigidly virtuous creed, without demanding a sacrifice. A way for you to be truly free."

Wyll's eyes widen at the thought. “If such a thing were possible… I would truly owe you a great debt of gratitude. You would really do that for me? After what I've said tonight?”

"Just call it a favor. From a friend. And, of course, feel free to pay me back in advance by not killing me in my sleep tonight.”

Wyll smiles, although it hadn't really been a joke. “One of the stipulations of my contract actually spells out who I can kill. Clause G, section 9: Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless, and the soulless. I think I can safely strike you from the heartless category.”

Astarion tries to hide the worry from his voice when he asks, "And the soulless?”

The monster hunter is serious once again. “I don't pretend to be an arbiter of the soul, having sold my own. That one's up to you. You've been winning me over, as of late, Astarion, but please… think about what this ritual will cost you. I won't intervene, and I understand what's at stake for you. I'm going to trust you, so just… don't make me regret it."

He's not sure he deserves this trust; he knows he's not good like Wyll. But… he's starting to see a universe where he might try to be. He knows he'll never escape the sins of his past, and, gods willing, he won't become some nagging do-gooder, but with Cazador out of the picture… he might evolve into a version of himself that he hates less. It's just such a waste of all that power, at the tips of his fingers. And the blood on his hands would taste so sweet.

"I can't promise that I'll change my mind. But… I'll consider it,” he relents at last. It's the best offer he's going to give. Still, Wyll's posture relaxes minutely, and he clamps a warm hand on the vampire's shoulder.

"To considerations, then,” he says, bringing the bottle to his lips and then offering it out.

Astarion can smell the strange perfume of his blood from the wrist near his face, so he looks up from beneath his lashes and bravely ventures, “I can think of something better to drink, if you're willing… ?”

Wyll flattens his lips together and pats him a few times on the shoulder where his hand rests before getting up. "And here I thought we were making progress. Good night, Astarion.”

"Wh– I thought you said we were friends?" he protests at the retreating figure.

“Not that good of friends," Wyll replies as he descends the ladder. “Keep telling me how nice my horns look, though, and we'll see how we get on."

“You are surely the most fetching sheep I've ever met,” Astarion teases.

“Don’t push it.”

“Good night, Wyll."

[supernovafeather]

hi dear. really love your leto atreides fanfics. can you make more f reader x leto noncon? i strangely love it, especially the forced marriage trope in the war tribute. oh this is so embarrassing but can you make it as brutal as the poe dameron ones??

Thank you ! ☺️

Here is one, hope you'll like it !

Dark Consequences (18+)

Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Content : noncon, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, angst.

Synopsis: after her husband got condemned for treason, reader can only face her Duke's wrath.

"What are you doing here ?"

The Duke's voice in your back couldn't get well described, veiled by the loud rain hitting the windows in an enraged roar. Calm, yet with some displeased undertone.

Rubbing your nails nervously with the pulp of your fingers, you couldn't see the nocturnal scenery outside.

"I still think you shouldn't have done that," you blurted out, "it was a mistake."

"You chose to marry a traitor. I had to punish you. Now let me have access to my quarters. My Lady." He added coldly.

Never before you could have thought of him able to commit such atrocity himself. As a leader he would have hid himself behind his army at war, but as a human he was no better. You had known him for years, learned to respect this flawless Duke only to become his prey. A naive vulnerable fly landing right into the trap waiting for her.

His hip thrusts were not the most humiliating part. To you it was more the way he felt free and amused enough to spank you at random moments despite your distressed screams muffled by your husband's jacket he stuffed into your mouth. He lifted your dress up, pressed your face against that table half-choking you with that jacket your prepared for your life partner, and he started to take like you were his.

"I won't let you until we talk about this my Lord." You claimed before turning around to face his frown.

"I see. You liked it ?" He asked with a mischievous grin more similar to a grimace.

"No." You lied with crossed arms. "I want you to know that I don't approve any of those acts. You are going to regret it one day. One day you will make mistakes that are going to make you wish you were not born."

Had you anything to lose ? After all your husband was now safe in his coffin, and the Duke ejaculated in you during the execution.

"Threats don't suit you. You will remain the traitor's whiny but fuckable wife for me. Be glad I still acknowledge your existence." He said seriously.

"Just because you took me against my will you think of yourself unreachable?" You questioned in genuine disbelief.

"I was unreachable well before that. After all I was the one that had to reach you. And I did reach you with great pleasure."

With a wink and without a smile, the Duke walked past you only to get stopped by you and you only. How much did you wish to stab him to death.

"Killing my husband was not enough for you ? Destroying our House wasn't enough ? You had to destroy me to get your ego satisfied?"

You stepped back at the flames in his eyes, but never looked away. He could perceive your fear indeed but now you were only trying to save some pride and honor left. At least you would have stood up for yourself.

"I didn't destroy you, I penetrated you. I came, you came, maybe you are going to be my bastard's mother. If you are still able to create life- especially with me - I don't consider it as destroying. Of course I could have fucked you hard enough to injure you. But I'm no monster despite what you like to think."

Now you were boiling inside. You were still scared but deep down you knew you could kill the Duke. You could kill the Duke of Caladan and get executed for such action. Maybe this was the only honorable solution.

"You won't impregnate me pervert." You claimed between your clenched teeth.

"If you say so. It's true that hiding a bastard would be a waste of time.*

You stepped back again. His whole demeanor was calculated but his eyes couldn't lie. Alright. You would face that with bravery. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, blinking nervously as you started to feel yourself about to dissociate. Your mind was wandering away dangerously and silently, ready to protect you in a way you couldn't choose.

"Leave me alone." You whispered as your back hit the door.

"Why ?" He smiled.

It looked so natural to him as he locked his eyes to yours, this smug grin and his hand pushing the door open, still not looking away as he stepped towards you to force you to enter his quarters. You couldn't pay attention to the details. Everything was blurred, like insignificant. You felt him coming closer, you heard the door.

"Leave me alone." You whispered again.

Your mind was screaming but you could only let Leto kiss you, as passive and dead as he was active and full of passion, ravishing anything he could. Your body froze completely as well as your brain. His hands were all over your dress now, his teeth nibbling your throat painfully before attacking your shoulder. You tried to fight back but nothing happened.

"A whiny whore that's all you are." He groaned angrily as he forced you to kneel down with a firm hand on your nape. "Not even saying no. You deserve that. I'm sure you want that cock. That's why you can't stop yourself from provoking me."

Was it so easy for him to have an erection or did it take so much more time than you thought ? You blinked once, witnessing his erected shaft before it got rubbed against your face mercilessly. Too weak to stand up you tried to push him away from you with shaky hands on his thighs, and your attempt to bite his cock failed miserably as he already stuffed your mouth fully, laughing at the disgusting sounds leaving your throat.

"Trying to bite and instead getting choked on some dick. A whore that's all you are." He mumbled.

He reached the back of your throat every time in stern thrusts, enough to have you crying as you tried to look up at him. You could hear the wet noises echoing in the room, feel the tip coated in your saliva, smell his sweat. You were about to throw up you could feel it.

"Take that honey." He whispered with eyes closed and a hand wiping your wet cheek. "Oh fuck come here."

Before you could even throw up you got thrown to something soft, a blanket, brutally enough to prevent your stomach from spilling its content. You still had his taste all over your taste buds, and you barely had the time to breath in four times that your eyes opened suddenly.

Already above you, he was smiling and pinned your wrists on either side of your head, his tip on your lower lips.

"Leave me alone please sir please." You sobbed with a nod.

A short chuckle from him later you clenched your teeth as he started to penetrate you, his erotic moan covering your pained whimper.

"He was a lucky guy that's for sure." He sighed before looking down at your crotch. "Shit I knew I should have undressed you first.

"It hurts..."

"I know. But what's life without pain ?"

It took him several attempts to get inside you fully, his now focused face staring at your watering eyes. Your fingers were already cold and pierced by thousands of invisible needles under his hands pressure.

"I'm going to give you my seed graciously." He growled as he started his gentle thrusts. "I'm going to come in you. I'm going to make it official that yes you gave me so much pleasure that I ejaculated in your tight little cunt after your husband got killed off."

You could barely try to fight back. Hands under his control, the both of you fully clothed, and his cock rubbing your walls expertly like you were his own wife, you could only close your eyes and turn your head away. Your body was reacting, coating his erection with a wetness that was both soothing and humiliating as he fastened his pace.

"Good girl, good girl." He whispered with a smile. "Now that's better, see it's good to just give up."

You shook your head in an useless attempt to show your disgust but you could feel that pleasure increasing. You felt hot. The moans sounded like coming from someone else but no they were leaving your own lips.

"You too." He sighed before changing the angle slightly.

This time he released your hands to grab your hips under your dress, his veiled eyes directed to your violated pussy as he nibbles his bottom lip. His hips were getting erratic, as much as your breath as you grabbed the blanket.

"No sir no..." You pleaded as you watched him closing his eyes.

"Shit shit shit..." He whispered with a growing smile.

His thumb suddenly started to rub your swollen clit, and before you could even think about it you could only moan out of pleasure, your arching body welcoming his seed.

[mitamicah]

Lemme hear your songs :3

2/4/9/12/17/21/23 :3

I hope this is too much, if it is just pick the ones you like the most. :3

Okay let me get mentally ready for this xD

2. A song to sleep to?

Silence x'D no, but I am not a fan of falling asleep to a song tbh because I want to finish it and the fear of not hearing the whole song is scary OVO

I remember this one song I heard that had a very dreamy, sleepy vibe to it, let's see if I can find it :3

Goodnight Moon by Go Radio

4. A song that hypes you the fuck up

Do you know how hard is not to go for Cha Cha Cha rn x'D? Hmmm... what other songs hype me up 🤔Okay Hoita Mut and Gay (both by Benjamin) also does something for me x'D

Hoita Mut by Benjamin

GAY by Benjamin

9. A song that makes you want to go on an adventure?

Now we talked about the HTTYD soundtrack recently why not go for Test Drive x'D

12. A song to listen to whilst you lie in a meadow?

I think I got it: Nocturne by Secret Garden ... it is just so pretty and so cool that it is basically a 2 min violin solo sandwiched inbetween some pretty lyrics :'D (Also, it won Eurovision the year I was born x'D) but I Hear A Symphony is another good meadow energy song tbh :3

Nocturne by Secret Garden

I Hear A Symphony by Cody Fry

17. A song that makes you want to grab your friends jump up and down dancing and screaming the lyrics?

Oh boy then it need to be a song we both know x'D (not very likely with how my playlist looks like rn :'D) ... Oh, I believed I've done this specific thing to Toxic so I guess that one x'D

Toxic by Britney Spears

21. A song for when the sun has gone down and you are feeling absolutely buck-wild with exhilaration!

The whole scenario gives me vibes of Ethnic tecno weirdness from Eurovision so I'm sorry I have to go with my gut and say it is a three way street between Shum, Fulenn and Spirit in the Sky ... due to post limitations however I'll go with Keiino :'D

Spirit in the Sky by KEiiNO

23. A song that when you listen to it you’re transported to a liminal space, time is pointless and you must sit and wallow in the void that remains

Am I being too much up ESC's butt if I say my gut reaction was Tout l'univers :'D?

I think I might go with the Synthesis version of My Immortal instead tho :'D

My Immortal by Evanescence

[a-driftamongopenstars]

could I ask for some crumbs of Angel!Crow and Vampire-Exo!YW? I have no idea how it would work, maybe prototype exoframe? i dunno, but this idea has been floating around in my brain forever now, lol

anon!! anon! this is an amazing prompt and I had a whole lot of fun writing it :D tbh i wouldn't mind exploring more of this au, because wow, was this fun it was. if i figure out any semblance of plot, I might write more :D

also on ao3

In this barely lit corner of a street no one would find Crow and the Guardian, leaning against the corner walls, panting slightly. They have just landed down, barely returned from one of the Guardian's nocturnal outings, and a minute in the dark is beneficial for both.

Crow moves his shoulders a little, feeling the muscle tense, then relax and a pair of grand white wings retracts into the spine of his skeleton. It is only a slight twinge of pain - and then they are gone.

The Guardian's brightly glowing Exo eyes watch him with curiousity. They've seen it happen many a time, and yet Crow finds them staring every single occurence.

"What?" he asks with soft hesitation and shyness.

The Guardian hums. Seeing his angelic wings has always been quite an impressive sight for them, they explain. They can't imagine getting used to it nor do they want to, to keep the sense of mystery and awe in tact.

Crow laughs a little. In the corner of his eye he sees a small white feather soak in a dirty puddle on the street floor.

"Are you sated?" Crow asks a few minutes later as they take their rest, listening to the ever present hum of the ships in the air, of the City, busy and loud as ever.

The Guardian nods.

"You never explained how it works."

They laugh. He never did ask.

"Well, then I'm asking now," Crow smiles brightly, pressing his head against the cold plaster wall.

And they explain. An experimental Exo frame, only a few ever produced, and they were among that small number. Running on something familiar, injesting blood to keep their frame going. Almost human, one could say, yet not human at all.

"And those you bite... do they..."

The question lingers.

The Guardian shakes their head. No, they don't die. Those who they bite will never know what happened. Their bites are too tiny to truly notice and they heal quickly. Some, those who are aware of such Exos existence, offers themselves willingly.

Crow listens patiently, feeling a shiver run under his skin. Does Awoken blood taste differently, he wonders? Does an angelic one? A mix?

He shivers again, both intrigued and terrified to ever find out.

The Guardian watches him for that whole moment, tilting their head a little, unblinking eyes staring.

As they do, a fraction of yellow light reflects against their artificial skin and the metals of their jaw, and Crow sees a smudge of red where it shouldn't be.

"You..." he says quietly, reaching out without thinking. "A streak, here."

And just as instinctive, he touches the Guardian's jaw, pale thumb gathering up the remainder of blood until there is no more on that cool familiar face.

Crow finds himself panting again, but less so from the exertion of the flying, and more so from excitement of the moment.

The Guardian remains a statue. Yet those eyes, lively and bright and shining, tell Crow that they would quite like to explore that impulsiveness he exhibited.

[mortau]

It'd been a day since the three women had showed up to his church. While he couldn't say the encounter was too remarkable, it had done something to break up the monotony. Which was something he could appreciate.

And it seemed it would happen once more as yet another beautiful woman came into his church looking for him. Just as he was about to head home, too.

Long, wavy black hair, grays eyes akin to the sky on a cloudy day. Her smile was ditzy - she didn't look too bright. Maybe that was why she walked into the church wearing such a flimsy dress. It looked she just wrapped herself in a bed sheet and put nothing else on. Part of him wanted to see if that were true.

He flashes her a charming grin, wondering if she was another sucker that got pulled in from the flyers.

"Hello, young miss. What brings you to the church so late at night?"

Nocturne looked him up and down. It was as Ambros said - she could tell from the energy coming off of this man that he clearly was not human. His hair was short, black, parted in a way that was flattering paired with his glasses. His eyes were violet, but when he turns his head, she can see them flash red when his glasses didn't obscure them.

....The way he stared at her dress made her skin crawl. Was it really the right choice to come here after Ambros told her what kind of person this was? Well, it was too late now.

When he opens his mouth, she sees his teeth - definitely vampiric or carnivorous in some way.

"Are you Father Enoch, renowned miracle worker?"

...He knew it. She wanted a blessing, didn't she? Usually, after some time, he killed the ones who asked for one. But she was cute, so... Maybe something else could be recompense. "That would be me, yes. Are you here for a blessing?"

"Your friend Ambrus sent me," she began with a smile, delighting in the way his expression fell to one of annoyance. "May we speak in private?"

Well, there went that idea. He narrows his eyes, a once kind expression twisting into a sneer. "Fine."

He waves for her to follow him down a brightly lit hallway, cream-colored walls plastered with the images of missionaries in other countries, pamphlets speaking of god and bible verses written on chalkboards. He leads her to a room with a blue door, closing it and locking it once she was inside.

"What the fuck did he want?"

It didn't take much for him to drop his facade of kindness, did it? not that it was all that good anyway, with the way he leered at her. His mask had slipped to reveal a much more crude person than she expected. Even now, she could see him trying to take a peek down her dress.

She reached a hand up to take his glasses off, revealing that it was a mere glamor. So his eyes really were red, hm?

"Watch where your eyes wander, sir," she giggles, holding them just out of his reach. "He didn't want anything... He just told me about you."

He tries to grab his glasses, sending her a hiss through bared teeth as she simply stepped back to continue her little game of keep away. "So he didn't send you and you just lied?" he snapped.

Finally, she stays still and allows him to steal his disguise back. "It sounds to me like you lie here every day. Such a shame that you must taint a house of god like this." Despite her words, she still smiles. "You must remain here and hide, but I wonder how you feel about that... Would you not rather be among the like-minded?"

He scoffs, shaking his head as he places the glasses back on his face. "I'm not hiding. I've been doing this shit so long, i've perfected it, thank you very much. I don't need to change up now."

She steps forward, placing a hand on his arm, staring up at him from her half lidded eyes. "Hear me out at least."

Enoch narrows his eyes, before exhaling. "Fine. But if I hear any bullshit, I'm throwing you out."

"You can consider me a missionary from an ancient religion," she begins, the same smile plastered on her face. "Have you heard of the Moon Goddess, Serena, and her rituals of blood?"

She pulls away, spinning dramatically. "A vampiric Goddess who demanded sacrifices from her followers. A wondrous Goddess who brought prosperity to all who worshipped at her feet in return for them!" She grasped the crescent moon pendant around her neck, sighing blissfully as she spoke.

"Father Enoch... Do you want to be worshipped?"

...She wasn't making a lot of sense. In his seven hundred years of life, all of his research, his religion hopping, his extensive knowledge of ancient pagan religions (including the one that created him)... He never heard of a Goddess Serena who required blood sacrifice. And an offer of being worshipped? This sounded like one of the scams he peddled.

"Worshipped, huh?"

Still... It sounded nice.

"I'm trying to bring back this religion, you see... I need a figurehead."

He raises an eyebrow, scoffing once more. "So I'm not gonna be in charge of anything? Sounds like bullshit."

...This would be tough, but she didn't feel like arguing. Not right now. She'd have to convince him at another day. A smile graced her lips once again. "How about this... Maybe we can talk this over lunch, maybe? Or a coffee?"

"...Hm. Fine." He finds a notepad and a pen, writing something down. "There's my number. Contact me later, now get the hell out. I'm busy."

Rude!

She snatches the paper out of his hands, moving to unlock the door. "I'll call you later."

And with that, she was gone.

[alumort]

Ao3

little mermen nejilee :3

He didn't really like light, and usually just remained in one spot until the moon appeared in the sky. Pretty much taking a nocturnal kind of life in the sea.

It wasn't as if he could swim for long– Lee was an eel of sorts, in a way, and his fight with another merman some years ago didn't help at all with his movement ability.

The merman didn't really do much in his routine; rather, he usually spent most of the time waiting for an unaware fish to swim close to his cavern, only for him to strike swiftly and eat it in mere seconds. It was rather monotonous, except for whenever another merfolk passed by to try and talk with him, until they saw his round, unblinking gray eyes.

Everyone found his gaze unsettling, and most swam away afterwards– he was used to being alone, anyways. Eels didn't really like being in groups, and he had left his parents as soon as he had become a capable adult himself.

That was alright. Lee was content like that, having a space big enough for him and his things, on shallow waters. He was close to the shore if he ever needed to go there for any reason.

His sleepiness went away as a familiar scent reached his nose, and a smile appeared on his face as he recognized it– many merfolk preferred to stay in deeper waters, but two of them liked to visit him from the depths from time to time.

“Are you awake? I'm sorry, I know it's early,” his visitor said, and Lee had to squint to see him better, usually depending more on his other senses rather than on his sight.

But he loved looking at him– Neji, one of his few friends and part betta fish, was just… mesmerizing to look at. His purple scales were brighter than anything else in the ocean, and his tail and fins were long and flowy, being a lighter shade than his scales; lavender, was it? Lee didn't know how to describe it, only that his heart felt happy whenever his eyes fell on the other merman.

“That is alright, my friend. I am happy to see you again!” the eel replied, moving his long yellowish tail to make some space for his friend, who sat down on the sand beside him. “How have you been? Have you found anything in the depths?”

Lee couldn't remember when they had begun hanging out, but he was sure of one thing; whenever he wanted to explore the sea, Neji didn’t mind holding his hand and doing the swimming for both of them, tasking him with carrying anything that caught their attention.

He was nice to him, and he had never been afraid of his eyes. Lee liked spending time with him, not really forcing him to talk if he didn't want to– the betta was quiet, and only gave him some odd-looking shells that were probably from the way to shallow waters. Neji seemed upset about something, though he said nothing as they both began to arrange things in the cave, distracting himself with that.

That was fair. They kept different treasures from their trips there, as Hiashi wasn’t really fond of his nephew keeping ‘trash’ no matter how beautiful or entertaining some items could be. So Lee kept it all inside of his cavern, safe from the older merman's reach– Neji liked to play around with their collected things, but now he was just drawing circles on the sand, uninterested.

“Are you alright?” was all the eel said, though he regretted it almost immediately; his friend seemed to get sad at the mere question. “Ah– you do not need to tell me if you do not want to. I just worry about you.”

Silence. Neji was deep in thought, organizing rocks around him in a circle and then mixing them up again, moving his mouth without saying anything at all.

Lee knew that sorting usually helped him think, so he only smiled at him, making an attempt at cheering him up without words– after some long minutes, the brunet began to speak, finally looking his friend in the eyes.

“It's just… Hiashi wants me to get a mate soon. But I'm not interested in all the mermaids he presents, and I– I hurt them, Lee,” Neji exclaimed, his voice breaking in the end. “They're so bright my eyes hurt when I look at them, and– I can't control it. But my uncle refuses to listen to me! He says I'm being a piece of shit, and… and he'll try to force someone on me.”

“Everyone knows bettas can get aggressive out of a sudden– your uncle is one, too. He is forgetting his own instincts,” Lee commented, shifting a bit closer to his friend and offering him a hand.

The brunet was too shy to admit it, but he knew how much Neji liked physical affection– it helped him relax, so they would entwine their fingers from time to time without saying anything about it. Lee didn't mind doing such small gestures for him, also enjoying them.

“I can’t control it– but Hiashi keeps bringing in more candidates, and I just… attack. Hiashi doesn’t want to understand I can’t fight my instincts, and brings more mermaids to my cave,” Neji admitted, looking away as he spoke, using his tail to play with the sand under his scales. The eel didn’t say anything, allowing his friend to speak while quietly caressing his hand, knowing it usually helped him feel calmer after a while. “But… I don’t feel angry when we’re together, Lee. I wish I could just stay here, with you. You don't force me to do anything I don't want to do.”

Lee realized his friend had tightened the hold on his hand as he spoke, probably not even noticing it himself– the betta didn't really speak much about his feelings, so it must've been bothering him for a while… knowing Hiashi, he would do terrible things to him if Neji didn't choose anyone soon.

But Hiashi hated going to shallow waters, unlike his nephew. He would be safe there.

“Well, this cave is huge. You could stay here if you wanted! I like having you around,” the eel said with a huge grin, chuckling as his friend ended up hugging him in response. “You do not need to worry about Hiashi here! And if you do not want a mate, you do not need one. We will have more time to explore the ocean!”

Lee didn't have a good vision, but even he could tell Neji's cheeks had a reddish tint on them now. His friend even looked away in a futile attempt to hide it, so the eel didn't really ask about his blush.

“Oh, but I am interested in someone. But he's not a mermaid– he's a merman. An eel,” was all Neji said, quietly accommodating wild strands of hair behind his fins, fidgeting in order to avoid his gaze.

“An eel? I thought I was the only eel you… wait.”

Now his face was warm– he certainly didn't expect that outcome. Neji was the most handsome person he had known in his whole life, and he wanted him as a mate? A scarred eel who could barely swim on his own due to the injuries on his tail? Lee couldn't believe it, but the betta was now smiling at him once more, holding him close in their embrace.

He never imagined that anyone would ever love him in that way– much less Neji, who could pick pretty much anyone else. His eyes felt itchy as joyful tears fell from them, and he couldn't help it but chuckle in disbelief.

“You are. I think that's why I can't just… pick someone else,” the brunet admitted, quietly leaning towards his companion to press their foreheads together, still hugging him. “You've always been so kind to me, Lee. Letting me leave my treasures here, exploring the sea with me… it means a lot to me. I love you.”

“I– I love you too! I am still in shock, I am so sorry… But– I would love to be your mate!” Lee replied, letting out a sob between words yet smiling when his friend– his partner kissed his cheek.

They didn't really say much afterwards, though they did remain close to each other through the rest of the night as it was time to hunt for food– but now, Lee's kelp bed would have another merman apart from him, and the daylight wouldn't be so annoying if it meant he could spend more time with the betta.

[ahogedetective]

*yuma looks incredibly nervous as he stands in front of shuichi's door, the boy fidgeting as he clutches at the hem of his uniform! he really is trying to muster up some courage to just walk in and introduce himself, but his arm just won't move to grab the doorknob and he feels as if his voice is caught in his throat!*

("Introducing myself should be the easiest thing in the world, yet I can't even get through the doorway... Why did I let myself get talked into this? At least at the Nocturnal Detective Agency I didn't have to talk much. Now I'm stuck in some new city while the Chief acts like he's on vacation. At least I have him here with me, but still...") *he furrows his brows as he remains lost in thought, moving his arms only to cross them as he closes his eyes*

("I won't end up in a Mystery Labyrinth here, right? No... No, that definitely won't happen... Sure this place probably has its share of mysteries too, but I'm sure it's nothing like Kanai Ward... I won't need to go back into one of those things ever again, right...?") *the boy is spiraling before he suddenly gives a choked gasp, his small body suddenly jerking to the side as if something is pulling him! after a few seconds he seems to calm down a bit, although he gives an annoyed groan and proceeds to glare at the nearby wall! however, it's only when he turns back towards the door that he screams, not realizing that sometime during his little incident the door opened up!*

"I-I'm so sorry!!" *yuma is absolutely mortified as he bows deeply, the poor boy more nervous than ever as he keeps his head low* "I-it was just nerves! Yeah! I-I didn't know what to say s-so I wanted to practice a bit before our meeting! P-please disregard everything you may have witnessed!!"

("How much did he see?! How much did he hear?! He probably thinks I'm some weirdo or have a problem or something! The meeting's going to end and he's going to tell the Chief then he'll tell the others and they'll keep going until everyone knows! Wait, what if he doesn't want to train me anymore? What if I ruined this opportunity all because I didn't walk in sooner?!")

"Okay...Yuma should be arriving any second, now..." He mutters to himself as he checks the time on his phone. Today, Shuichi and Yuma will formally introduce themselves to each other. Naturally, the detective was very nervous, but while he sits and waits for the other boy, he tries to calm his nerves. He's certain Yuma will be just as nervous, if not more. The last thing he would want to do, is make that even worse if he's too nervous, himself. "All you're doing is introducing yourself to him, Shuichi...you don't have to be so nervous about that. Help Yuma feel welcomed..."

It's when he hears the faint sounds of someone behind his door (which oddly sounded like a gasps and a groan at some point), does he look towards it. "Ah-!" ("That must be Yuma...!!") Anticipating him opening that door and second, Shuichi takes a deep breath to push down and nerves that threaten to build back up. Though.... the door didn't open right away as he thought it would. ("That... is him behind my door, right? I don't believe it's locked, or anything...") Maybe his nerves got the best of him, he thought to himself... something he understands very well. And so, he decides to just open the door, himself, so he can invite him in. "Yuma: hel-" ...That's when he sees the boy... staring at the wall? "...lo? Um... I-Is everything okay...?"

Then Yuma suddenly screaming like that made a yelp leave him in turn, the baffled look on his face growing even more when he starts apologizing so profusely. "O-Oh, uh...!" He still wondered what was happening out there for Yuma to be staring at the wall like that, but the poor boy look embarrassed enough; so he'll just disregard as the other wishes, and places a hand on his shoulder to hopefully help calm him down. "I-It's okay, you're fine! Raise your head up, there's no need to apologize; I understand that very well. A-And sure, I'll pretend I did not, uh, see anything. Now please, come in: and... like I've been reminding myself; we're just introducing ourselves to each other... no need to be so nervous. So don't fret if you don't find the right words each time. They'll naturally come to you, Yuma." A smile softens on his face, as he gently beckons the boy to enter the door.

[burstingsunrise]

Hey best friend I have a burning question for you. If you were to fight all the members of 5sos (one at a time) why would you fight them and how would it go down? I actually cannot stop thinking about this pls answer asap

hello my newly nocturnal bff; thank you for this thought-provoking question! i had to caffeinate first. four shots of espresso because the girl at the bakery was feeling generous! alright, i’m just going to assume this is going to get long so...

ashton - let’s talk about ashton first because there are a multitude of reasons i would fight him. i’ve narrowed it down to the top 2 - in at #2, his atrocious spelling, grammar, and incorrect word choice. it could easily drive me to violence, however, since i’m mostly subjected to it in writing it doesn’t top the list.

#1 - he interrupts me repeatedly. i HATE being interrupted, because i am kinda quiet and it takes a lot for me to speak up, so then when someone cuts me off? KNIFE TO THE THROAT. and you know ashton would do it. not with any ill-intention; he just wouldn’t be able to stop himself, you know? he’s gotta get out his clever thoughts. so ashton cuts me off for the hundredth time, i see red, and then i’m kicking him in the shins. HARD.

i see this going one of two ways. either he holds up his hands and backs away because he’s in one of his woo woo moods, or his instincts kick in and he tries to punch me in the face. joke’s on him, though, i fight dirty. i will win this fight.

michael - okay so if i’m fighting michael it’s definitely because he beat me at mortal kombat and now he’s rubbing it in and i am NOT okay with it. i snap and yell at him in a horrifyingly earnest and sincere way and then i run away because i feel too vulnerable. an hour later, michael surprises me with a snickers bar because he feels bad.

calum - not to get too real here, but i’m fighting calum over his smoking. it’s psychological warfare, though. like i am going to manipulate this man into quitting in such a way that he doesn’t even realize it’s happening. 

maybe i’m going to pavlov him into associating cigarettes with something he hates. maybe i’m going to start hiding his cigarettes and putting, i don’t know, sour patch kids in their place. and if he catches on, i’ll just steal duke until he agrees to quit smoking.

luke - it will not come as a surprise to you that i’m fighting luke over his short pants. like i see a little too much sock and/or calf one day and i can’t take it anymore. it’s a cuddle fight, for personal reasons. i expect luke to win because of his sheer size, but he feels bad and lets me win. afterwards he immediately gets rid of all his short pants because he doesn’t want me to be disappointed in him.

i hope this is sufficient. i’m happy to elaborate if you have any follow-up questions. 💜

[nahoney22]

Uncontrollable*** | part 2/2

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 6.1k

Written In November 2021. Rewritten September 2023.

With his erotic dreams taking over his mind at night, Echo has no choice but to keep his distance from you but this doesn’t sit right with you and decide to confront him.

warnings: NSFW, 18+, more nocturnal emissions, slightly awkward scenes, dreams of blowjobs, sex etc, only one bed trope, dirty talk, fluff, slight angst as Echo talks down about himself, swearing, first kiss, mutual pining (?) Sex heavily implied. Mix between POVs. Mainly Echo but switches to Reader.

Part One of Two

Part Two of Two

This was bad. So bad. Echo's internal turmoil had reached a fever pitch.

For the past twenty minutes or so, he had been pacing relentlessly throughout the ship, his jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed ready to snap.

How could it have been you? You were his friend, and that's how he had always seen you. There was no denying your attractive appearance at all, but these dreams were spiraling out of control.

The image of you wearing his helmet had sent shockwaves through his cybernetically enhanced body, a constant reminder of the Techno Union's meddling that made it impossible for him to even fathom anybody could look at him a certain way. And now, he found it challenging to even look at you. The only time he could bear to face you was when you intruded upon his uncontrollable dreams. Just like that night again.

As usual, the room within his dream remained shrouded in darkness, the crimson mist creeping beneath the solitary door. He didn't see you, but your voice resonated, unaltered this time. "Echo, I missed you. I thought you weren't going to come."

Glancing around, the clone located the source of the voice behind the door. This time, he found the strength to stand by the entrance, his hand hovering over the handle. You spoke again, drawing him further into the depths of his dream. "You can come watch me if you want."

Without control over his actions or thoughts, Echo turned the handle and stepped inside. The room revealed itself to be a refresher, spacious and dimly lit by the familiar crimson hue. He could hear the sound of running water.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the environment as he walked on and on, the minutes passing by in a blur.

Finally, a rounded object emerged in his vision, and he took a few more steps before freezing in his tracks. Chills coursed through his body as he beheld you reclining in a bathtub, enveloped by soapy bubbles and red flower petals. Your head rested against the back of tub's edge, hair soaked and cascading over the ridge, eyes closed as you hummed softly.

The realisation hit Echo like a train as your head tilted to acknowledge his presence. There, in the depths of his uncontrollable dream, he locked eyes with the undeniable image of his friend—a final confirmation that it was indeed you.

"Hi, sweetheart," you giggled, sitting up amidst the sea of bubbles, and Echo silently thanked whatever force was orchestrating these dreams that the bubbles offered a modest veil as you leaned forward, a hand resting under your chin. "I'm so glad you're here."

His mouth felt parched like he had eaten sand as he took in the surreal scene, the crimson surroundings devoid of any context except for the bathtub and you.

"What is it? Do you not like it here?" your voice took on an innocent, tender tone, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not immediately focusing on you.

"I do," he managed to say, his eyes locking back onto yours as a warm smile graced your lips. "I-I just can't believe it's you."

A melodic, beautiful hum emanated from your mouth, and he watched in fascination as you reached out, your hand gently encircling his scomplink. His body tensed instinctively, apprehensive about your reaction, but your eyes displayed no trace of revulsion as you drew him closer until his thighs met the edge of the tub.

“Why believe, when you can make it a reality?” You ushered softly, wet fingers from the bathwater trailing along the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free from its restraint. As expected, he was as hard as metal.

“R-reality?” He stammered through heavy breaths, an aggressive heat attacks his face as he watches you get onto your knees, the water splashing with your movements as your bare breasts were now shown in sight.

“Tell me how you really feel Echo… then I’ll show you.” You tease gently, eyes blown with lust as Echo watches your dream form lick your lips, eyes focused on his now leaking tip.

“I-I…. I don’t know.” He gulps, his feelings for you currently caught in the web of his mind but you only wrap your hand around his shaft at the base, doing an experimental pump against him.

“That’s fine, but for now, I’d like you to fuck me after I suck your pretty cock.” You leaned over the tub, tongue extended as you trail your flat warm muscle along his balls before riding it up high towards his tip.

Echo felt his hips jolt involuntary, his eyes wide in astonishment and adoration as you maintained eye contact with him, taking him all in your mouth, cheeks becoming hollow as you began to suck.

The feeling isn’t like how he would have imagined in reality, but knowing that he would probably never feel this with you, he took the phantom feeling of your tongue around him gratefully. He knew it was wrong but it felt so right.

You finally pull away from him, his head that was tilted back and enjoying the very tender sensation looks back down at you but his gaze travels up as you soon rise to your feet.

Echo was stunned. Your nude body, whether it really looked like yours or not in person, stood in front of him in all its glory. Dripping wet and illuminating red that resembles the colour of his cheeks and the tip of his cock. You step out of the tub, taking slow steps towards Echo who finds himself backing up until he hits a basin that he was certain wasn’t there before.

“I like you, Echo.” Your voice was barely a whisper as your body pressed against his, his cock hitting your stomach. His chest heaves at the close proximity. “And I know you like me too. I’ve always known.” You purr once you lean into his neck, placing a delicate kiss to his skin.

“You’re not real.” He sighed dejectedly, pulling back.

“I am real.” You told him, taking a gentle hold to his cheek. “I’ll prove it to you.”

With that, you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist and as you wiggled, Echo found you sinking onto his length where he elicited a delectable moan. “Maker… you feel so good.”

Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, his arms wrapping around the imagination of you as he helped lift you up and down on his throbbing length.

“Say you love me.”

Echo's legs trembled at your words, his voice caught in a stutter as he struggled to respond. “I…I…”

"Say the words... say it, and then I'm yours. Forever yours," you implored, your tone a tantalising mix of allure and innocence, weaving a kind of seductive spell that was ensnaring Echo.

"I love you," he finally uttered, his words flowing like a revelation, even if it was only within the confines of this dream. He gazed at you, anticipating your response, but as your lips moved, no words came out.

"W-what?" Echo prompts you again, his hold on you tightening as he felt you start to slip away.

"Wake up, Echo."

In an instant, he shook his head, adamant that he could refuse waking up as his grip on you tightened even more, but he felt nothing but emptiness as you vanished from his grasp. Then, his eyes opened.

He bolted upright, panting heavily as his gaze adjusted to the dimly lit ship's walls. No one was there. Cold sweat trickled down his temples, and he belatedly realised that his hands had been down his pants, clutching his aching length while he was lost in sleep, envisioning you.

With a frantic motion, he pulled his hands away and swung his legs over the side of his bunk, collecting himself before making a hasty dash to the refresher to cleanse himself of his transgressions.

Tech was passing by, engrossed in his datapad, but he glanced up at the sound of Echo's hurried footsteps. "Why the rush?"

Ignoring him, Echo zeroed in on the refresher, the door closed. Without a second thought, and failing to hear Crosshair's call that it was occupied, he practically slammed the button to the door that it almost broke, freezing in place at the sight that greeted him within.

There you stood, toweling your damp hair dry while clad in only a bra and work pants. Although shocked by Echo's abrupt intrusion, you remained surprisingly composed. "Oh, sorry, forgot to lock it. I'll be done in about two minutes," you offered with a cheerful smile, seemingly unfazed by his unexpected arrival and the fact that you were partially undressed.

Echo's heavy breathing didn't escape your notice however. You dropped the towel as you observed him with concern. "Are you alright? You don’t look so good," you ventured, taking a step toward him. He, however, retreated, finally tearing his gaze away from you and rubbing the back of his neck.

"I’m fine, I'll uh... I'll go outside," he exhales heavily before hastily departing.

You quickly pulled on a shirt and exited the refresher, crossing your arms as Tech and Crosshair watched Echo practically flee the ship. "What's his problem?" Crosshair inquired, leaning back in his chair with folded arms.

"I'm not sure," you replied, your head tilting slightly. "But he's been acting odd recently."

The celebration was in full swing at a local inn, yourself and the Batch refreshing from a less-than-stealthy mission, enjoying a round of drinks. Hunter had managed to plan this surprise in advance and truthfully, you all needed it.

Wrecker, ever the enthusiastic one, had charged ahead and secured prime seating, a cosy booth in the corner and the rest of the team squeezed in.

You had the choice of sitting next to Hunter or Echo, and naturally, you chose Echo. He also happened to be the closest. Though his recent behavior had raised concerns of me you and you wanted to offer some support if needed it.

As you settled beside Echo, your leg brushed against his cybernetic limbs, and your hand briefly made contact with his own while you moved your drink closer. You said nothing, but you couldn't help but notice how his jaw tensed, his expression one of intense concentration.

Cups clinked together, a toast to the success of yet another mission, and cheers rang out. The group quickly fell into their own conversations. Being at the end of the row, you found it difficult to interject into Crosshair and Tech's discussion of ship improvements or Wrecker and Hunter's recounting of their recent tank takedown. Instead, you sat awkwardly with Echo.

In the past, the two of you would engage in fairly normal and even meaningful conversations. You even cherished the tales from his days in the 501st. However, now it felt strange even to be sitting beside him. You first noticed his odd behavior a few days ago when he saw you with his helmet on. Instinctively, you wondered if that had made him uncomfortable. Perhaps you should have asked him beforehand instead of assuming he'd be fine with it?

But as you sat and thought, there were those moments when you'd stumbled upon him in the midst of a disturbing dream, and more recently, your encounter in the refresher. You pondered whether your attire had contributed to his discomfort. Though you rationalised that you'd seen the others shirtless countless times! You all lived in a tight spot so it was a given and none of them had ever seemed uncomfortable around you. Of course, you had always made sure you were somewhat adequately covered, so you didn't think you had done anything unusual.

"Hey, Echo?" You finally broke the uneasy silence, prompting Echo, who was mid-drink, to splutter a bit in surprise. He winced slightly as he coughed, hastily covering his mouth and giving you a cautious side-eye.

"Yes?" he replied, his voice noticeably more formal than usual. It lacked the warmth and familiarity that had been typical of your interactions. His side-eye held a hint of tension and discomfort.

"Uh, you did good today," you began, offering a friendly smile while your fingers drummed lightly against your half-empty cup. "With the mission and all that. If you hadn't hacked into the systems in time, I'm not sure I'd be here drinking with you," you continued, your tone light, accompanied by a soft laugh that sent shivers down his spine.

"Right. Thanks," Echo responded, his tone still chilly, and he even turned his head further away from you. Typically, he would have offered a warm response, perhaps a clap on your back, and a similar comment in return. But this time, there was nothing.

You didn't want to make a scene, especially when everyone else seemed relaxed and content but you couldn't help but feel hurt.

You had now believed you might have done something to upset him, but you didn't want to ask directly in front of the others. Tilting your head away from Echo, you raised your cup to your lips, but your gaze met Hunter's across from you who appeared just as puzzled as you felt.

Standing up, you made your way toward Hunter with a smile. "Just going to the refresher," you informed him, but he stopped you by grabbing your arm.

"Is everything okay? Between you and..." Hunter subtly nodded toward Echo, keeping his voice low and discreet.

"I don't know. I feel like I've upset him," you admitted quietly, forcing a smile onto your lips just in case the others, including Echo, caught wind of your actual conversation.

Hunter released you, allowing you to step away briefly to catch your breath. After a while, he got up and changed seats, positioning himself right beside Echo.

"Echo?" Hunter began, addressing his brother.

"Yeah, Sarge?" Echo replied, bringing his cup to his lips while he rested his scomp on the table.

Hunter glanced in the direction where you had gone, ensuring you weren't on your way back, then turned his attention back to his newly-recruited brother. "You wanna tell me what's going on? With you and her?"

Echo's throat felt dry, and he feigned a look of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I just watched you be short with her for no reason... and you've been acting strange for the last few days. Is everything alright?" Hunter inquired quietly, earning a small sigh from Echo, who slumped back against the booth.

It hadn't been Echo's intention to appear this way, but if Hunter had noticed, you surely had as well. He acted this way because he was trying to push away the persistent thoughts of what had happened in his dreams last night, the vivid fantasies of being intimate with you, and even the admission of his love for you.

These feelings were something he wasn't sure he could control, and they were taking a toll on him. He couldn't hide the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach when he thought of you, saw you, or heard your voice. Even witnessing you in battle set his heart ablaze.

"I'm fine. Just… been sleeping badly," Echo told Hunter, which was partially true and also partially a lie. It was true because he genuinely struggled to cope with the transition from his dreams to reality, and it was a lie because he couldn't deny that he was actually enjoying these provocative dreams that nearly had him climaxing in his sleep every morning.

"Well, don't take it out on her. She's a good one. Anyway, you should be able to sleep better tonight. We're staying here," Hunter announced the last part loudly, eliciting cheers of delight from the rest of the team, including Echo.

"How come?" Crosshair inquired, his excitement at the prospect of a comfortable bed evident.

"It's a treat. I don't remember the last time any of us slept well, and since we have a decent amount of income coming in soon, why not make the most of it?"

The others celebrated this unexpected luxury, and even Echo managed a small smile. However, that smile quickly faded when you returned, running a hand through your hair. Echo's heart leaped at the sight of you, but it came to a screeching halt when Hunter announced the sleeping arrangements.

You. Echo. One room. One bed.

As Echo reluctantly followed you to the room you'd be sharing, he couldn't help but notice the change in your posture. Your usually relaxed shoulders were now squared and tense as you walked ahead, keycard firmly in hand.

Stopping outside the room, you inserted the keycard and the door whooshed open. Echo followed you inside, his sense of dread growing with each step. Sharing a room and a bed with you tonight was a less-than-ideal prospect, especially given his recent attitude towards you.

The room was painted a deep wine-red, with a window on the far side. But it was the bed that caught Echo's attention. It was a double bed, just as Hunter had told him, but the sheets were the exact same shade of red as the ones in his dream. He couldn't help but shudder at the uncanny resemblance. Across from the bed, a door led to the refresher.

Almost on autopilot, Echo made his way to the refresher, opening the door. It wasn't as spacious as the one in his dream, but the tub in the center and the basin to the side were familiar enough to send another shiver down his spine.

While Echo was busy inspecting the refresher, you watched him warily. His behavior had become increasingly jittery, and it made you uneasy. You decided to distract yourself by unpacking your belongings, hanging and putting away your clothes and toiletries even if it’s just for the night. Why not make the most of a somewhat pleasant and unpleasant situation? Eventually, you sat on the edge of the bed and wiggled a bit to test its comfort.

"Comfy," you said out loud, not particularly concerned whether Echo heard you or not. He had moved to the window however, admiring the view of the setting sun.

Minutes passed in silence, with neither of you uttering a word or making eye contact. Embarrassingly, you felt your lower lip quiver, and you stood up abruptly. The mattress beneath you sprang back into place as you crossed the room and gathered some clothes.

"I'm having a bath. I'll make sure to lock the door this time," you announced before heading to the refresher.

Echo turned this time, acknowledging the slight anger in your tone as you entered the refresher and slammed the door shut behind you, causing a small shower of dust to fall from the hinges onto the floor.

Sighing miserably, he rubbed his flesh hand over his face. He felt trapped in a room with the person he was having increasingly explicit dreams about, and the tension between you two was unbearable. He reluctantly made his way to the bed, taking a seat and trying to avoid thinking about the fact that you were now in the room across from him, clearly upset.

As he sat there, his mind couldn't help but drift to the vivid dreams that had been haunting him. The possibility of anything intimate happening between you in reality was slim to none, but in his dreams, it was a different story. He couldn't shake the images and the sensations that came with them, and his body was aching with desire.

He worried about what might happen if he touched himself in his sleep, and the idea of you catching him in such a vulnerable moment filled him with dread. Would you scream? Would you hit him? Would you tell the others, and they would come to confront him? The thought made him break out in a cold sweat, and he considered staying awake all night to avoid any chance of that happening.

Echo tried to push these thoughts aside as he began to remove his armor, figuring that getting comfortable might help calm his anxious mind. He slipped on a pair of black shorts and a gray vest top and sat against the headboard. However, he couldn't help but keep glancing at the door in front of him.

The sound of running water from the tub and the sweet sound of your humming filled the room, providing an unintentional distraction for Echo. He tried to distract himself further by scrolling through his holopad, reading the holonews and anything else that would keep his mind off his desires.

Unbeknownst to him, you had finished bathing and were already preparing to return to the room. As you open the door, Echo's gaze lifted to the doorway, where he - oddly - expected to see you in the sultry attire of his dreams. However, what he saw surprised him.

You stood there, rubbing your eyes tiredly, wearing a shirt that hung low to your knees, bed socks, and your hair tied back uncaringly. When you caught him looking, he quickly glanced down, and you could swear you saw him a little flustered. The tension in the room was palpable, and neither of you knew how to address it.

As you closed the door and walked toward the window, you could appreciate why Echo had been gazing at the view for so long. The scenery outside was truly beautiful, and you took a moment to enjoy it as well.

Eventually, you turned your attention back to the bed and gestured toward it, “Do you mind if I…?”

He looked at you, slightly surprised, but you were focused on the sheets, running your fingers over them. Your request seemed innocent enough, and Echo quickly agreed, shifting slightly to make room for you.

You climbed onto the bed, your legs slipping under the blanket, and a small, satisfied groan escaped your lips as you felt the smooth red satin sheets against your skin. The sensation was luxurious, and the mattress cradled your body like a warm embrace.

Echo swallowed hard, your moan catching him off guard and causing his previously softening arousal to spring back to life. He discreetly propped up one of his cybernetic legs to hide his reaction from you all the whole trying to maintain his composure.

He pretended to focus on his holopad, scrolling through the screen, but he couldn't concentrate. Your presence beside him, combined with the exhaustion from the day's mission and the tension between you two, was overwhelming. He had intentionally sat up to avoid falling asleep, but now he found himself unable to keep his eyes open.

Glancing down at you, he noticed that you had already drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Your soft, even breaths filled the room, and it was clear that you were completely at ease. Echo's eyelids grew heavy, and his holopad slipped from his grasp, falling to the floor with a clatter.

Unable to resist the pull of sleep any longer, Echo lay down on the bed beside you, his body relaxing into the crimson sheets as the two of you succumbed to the embrace of sleep, each lost in your own dreams.

Echo's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself back in the crimson-hued room. He was lying on his back, breathing heavily, but as he glanced around, he realised that he was alone. The sensation of the satin sheets against his skin was both a comfort and a cruel reminder that this was all just a dream

"You're back again. Back with me," your soft voice sang in his ears, and Echo's heart ached at the sound. He tried to sit up to see where you were, but his body felt heavy, and he could only manage to lift his head slightly.

"I'm back, mesh'la," he whispered, his fingers instinctively kneading the sheets beneath him. "Where are you?"

"I'm here," you giggled, and Echo strained to see you as you propped yourself on your stomach between his legs. His flaccid member lay against his stomach, but you traced a delicate finger over his thighs, teasing him.

"I've waited so long for you to come back... why didn't you come back sooner? Why did you leave?" Your voice was so soft, your pout so endearing, that Echo couldn't help but feel guilty.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave," he apologised, watching you lift onto your knees. His eyes roamed over your nude form, his desire building with each passing second as his gaze settled on your perky nipples.

Your head tilted to the side, and you licked your lips before smiling. You leaned down to his shaft, your tongue making a sweet, kitten-like lick along his length. Echo groaned softly, his hands aching to reach into your hair, but he found himself unable to move them.

"Just like that, sweetheart, just like that," he encouraged as he writhed beneath your touch, the pleasure intensifying with each of your sensual movements.

As the dream continued, you shifted and hovered over him, sheathing yourself onto his aching arousal. Echo moaned out your name, the sensations overwhelming him, but he still couldn't move his hands to grip your hips or take control. His eyes never left your face, watching as you moan and grin with lust down at him. The pace became relentless, the soft pressure building to an unbearable peak.

Just as he was about to reach his climax, he woke.

Echo roused from his slumber, the room cloaked in darkness. He cast a furtive glance to his side, finding you still nestled in a tranquil sleep, soft snores accompanying the rise and fall of your chest.

Irritation bubbled within him as he hastily disentangled himself from the sheets and trudged toward the refresher. His movements, however, elicited a reaction from you, stirring you from your dreams.

Turning to your side, you noticed Echo's absence and heard the distant sound of running water from the adjoining room. Rubbing the remnants of slumber from your eyes, you sighed deeply. You had to speak to him. Wether he liked it or not.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the plush carpet a comforting caress against your bare feet. Determinedly, you made your way to the door which Echo had taken refuge behind, your knuckles rapping gently against its surface. "Echo, are you alright?" you inquired, your voice.

Your words, followed by the thudding of your knocks, caused Echo to jump. He cursed himself silently for unintentionally rousing you from your sleep. "I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you," he mumbled.

Unconvinced by his terse response, you folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the frame of the closed door. "It's alright," you responded slowly, stifling a yawn. "May I come in?"

Echo's heart raced with uncertainty. Why would you want to do that? He contemplated coming up with an excuse like needing to use the refresher, but the thought of appearing disingenuous held him back. Instead, he managed to stammer out, "I, uh, I don't think you should."

Your expression hardened as you stood your ground. "Echo, I won't remain in this room for another moment while you ignore me as if I'm a diseased," you asserted firmly. "Now, talk to me and let me in."

In front of the mirror, Echo glowered at his own reflection, his face glistening with sweat. He averted his gaze downward, thankful that his earlier arousal had subsided, and drew a deep breath. Finally, he relented and unlocked the door.

When the door is unlocked and hisses open, you gingerly step inside, your eyes settling on Echo. But, your heart sank as you took in the sight of his drenched vest, a result of a strange mixture of water from the running tap and the beads of sweat glistening on his skin, remnants of an unsettling dream.

"Echo," you said softly, taking a cautious step closer to him, "what's going on?"

He continued to stare at himself in the mirror, gripping the basin's edge tightly. The turmoil within him kept him from facing you, his mind muddled by the graphic dreams that had invaded his sleep for the past few nights.

Sensing your hand reaching out toward him, he instinctively recoiled, pressing his back against the cool wall. You withdrew your hand instantly, your wide eyes fixed on him, a mixture of concern and confusion evident in your gaze.

"Echo, have I done something?" There was a hint of desperation in your voice.

He shook his head in response, swallowing hard. "No, of course not. It's just... I've been having problems sleeping." He spoke, his voice laced with unease, and his hand moved to rub the back of his neck, but he flinched as his fingers brushed against the cybernetic apparatus that ran from his lower back to his neck.

You nodded slowly, attempting to grasp the situation but still left with questions. Why couldn't he look you in the eye? Why this distance? "But what does that have to do with me? You can't even look your friend in the eye," you sighed, keeping your distance.

It was more than that, and Echo knew it. Friendship was one layer, then there was the raw physical attraction, but the deepest layer of all was the one he was reluctant to acknowledge—the uncontrollable love he felt for you. It had taken just a few nights of dreams to realise this, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to reveal it to you.

With a heavy heart and the sound of his own rapid pulse in his ears, he forced himself to meet your gaze. His honey-colored eyes locked onto your own, and he couldn't help but inhale sharply at your breathtaking presence. The admission was both terrifying and liberating, but he had to be honest. Get it over with.

"They, uh," he began, looking away briefly before returning his gaze to you, "they were about you. It made me think of things. Don't worry about it." He tried to dismiss it, moving to walk past you, but you blocked his path.

"What kind of dreams?" Panic tinged your voice, your concern for his well-being evident. You had witnessed the way he'd thrashed about, heard his restless whimpers and seen the sweat that coated his body. What kind of nightmarish dreams could they be?

Echo froze, keeping a respectable distance as you closed in. "Just... bad dreams," he replied hesitantly.

"Like what, though? Was I dying? Was I hurt?" Your voice trembled with concern, and you couldn't help but imagine dark scenarios unfolding if these dreams persisted.

"No! No," Echo assured you quickly, relieved to see the panic subside from your face, replaced by confusion.

"So... what kind of 'bad dreams'?" You crossed your arms, leaning against the basin. The action caused your shirt to ride up slightly, revealing a pair of shorts underneath. Echo's pulse quickened at the sight, but he managed to maintain his composure.

With a heavy sigh, Echo inhaled deeply, his gaze locking with yours.

You gazed back at Echo, your initial confusion slowly giving way to understanding as you deciphered the emotions hidden in his eyes, an unspoken plea for you to comprehend without requiring further words. A moment of revelation followed, and it hit you like a bolt of lightning.

Your hands fell to your sides, forming an 'o' of realization on your face. Your legs quivered, an odd mixture of nerves, intrigue, and perhaps even excitement coursing through you. Echo interpreted your stunned silence as a negative reaction and felt a profound sense of shame wash over him.

"I'm so sorry, I-I don't know how it happened," Echo confessed, his head hanging in shame. "The dreams wouldn't stop, and... I couldn't stop thinking about you throughout the day." He mumbled, his gaze fixated on the floor between you. He managed a wistful chuckle. "Heh, bet you wouldn't mind if it was someone like Hunter or... any of the others really."

His words cut you deeply, and your heart sank at the implication. "Why would you say that?" Your voice trembled with a mixture of hurt and confusion, your eyes, which were usually vibrant and full of life, now appearing soft and bewildered.

"Because look at me," Echo said, a tinge of self-doubt in his tone. He hoped you'd glance down and notice all the visible signs of his past injuries – the cybernetic legs, the metallic plates on his head, the scomp that had replaced his fleshy wrist, and the scars that told the story of his survival.

You, however, cared about none of that. "I am looking at you," you whispered softly, taking a step closer to him.

His body trembled slightly as you approached, your warmth radiating against his usually cold frame. "I didn't want to tell you... in case it scared you off, so I-" Echo began.

"Thought you could just ignore me?" you teased with a gentle chuckle, drawing a faint smile from him.

"I suppose," he admitted quietly, lowering his voice since you were now so close. "I didn't want you to leave... because of me."

You tilted your head to the side, a warm smile gracing your lips. "Echo," you said his name with such sincerity that he couldn't help but look up at you, silently urging you to continue.

"I'd never leave you."

Just as you had assured him in his dreams.

Something seemed to snap within Echo, a barrier breaking down. His grip tightened on your waist, and his lips crashed onto yours with a hunger that surprised both of you. You could hear the faint squeak of shock that escaped you as your wide eyes met his, and then, as swiftly as he had initiated the kiss, he pulled back, horror and flushed cheeks evident in his gaze.

"Maker, I'm sorry, I am so sorry, I don't know-" Echo stammered.

You silenced him with a soft-spoken yet fervent command. "Shut up, Echo," you exhaled, your hand rising to cup his cheek gently as your lips met his once more, this time driven by mutual desire and longing. The sudden, urgent connection sent shockwaves through his body, leaving him breathless and electrified.

One hand managing to find your waist again whilst his scomp presses agaisnt your back, the kiss gets heated and you’re pushed through the refresher door with your hands tugging on his top and pulling it over his head whilst your lips never parted from his.

He groaned against you, his wildest dreams coming true. The sound he made made your legs shut, just wanting to feel some kind of friction between your legs as your nub throbbed.

“Touch me, cyare.”

Echo melted at your words, the mando’a slipping through your lips like a prayer. But he listened to you regardless. All insecurities of his had vanished as he slipped a hand down the waistband of your shorts, moaning gently as he came into contact with the slick between your folds.

“Look how wet you’ve made me, Echo. And all from just kissing me.” You grin against him with a hum of amazement, your own little precious moan coming out as his fingers worked delicately against your core.

“You feel amazing.” He tells you, shocked beyond belief as his lips part from yours and begin to assault the flesh on your neck; rough sucking, nipping and licking against your skin that made your nipples stand.

Your head tilts back in satisfaction, eyes almost rolling into the back of your head at the tender bites he was giving you and you soon find yourself tumbling onto the bed with him on top of you.

He pulls away from you and looks down, his eyes searching your face as you smile dreamily up at him. “Is this okay? Do you want this?” He asked gently.

You giggle, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “I want you, Echo. I think I always have.” You tell him earnestly, nose nudging against his as you lean up to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

Echo could feel his heart burst, nothing but adoration in his eyes for you. Little did he know that all along he wanted you - and now he had.

“In that case,” Echo manoeuvres his hand under your back, bringing you to him so you were chest to chest with him whilst his scomp trails up your bare legs, “let’s see how you do in reality rather than in my dreams.”

The following events were a blur. All you could remember was the brutality of Echo’s powerful thrusts against your rear, his cock so deep inside of you that stars blurred your vision as your face was buried deep into the satin sheets.

The obscene sounds of his thighs slapping against yours, followed by muffled mewling from you. He praised you like you were everything to him, calling you beautiful, his beloved and much more. Maker, you didn’t even realise that you had moved positions from the bed to the floor until you tried to sit up but to no avail.

Your legs ached from when you were riding him, pushing yourself up and down against his delectable length that made your cunt throb just at the thought of seeing him looking up at you from under your lashes as your juices dripped along his cock. both of your actions were uncontrollable. The way his lips were on your sex, the way your mouth fit perfectly around his length... everything was perfect.

You must have been at it for atleast an hour. A gorgeous whole hour.

Echo had managed to lift you and put you back into the bed, the sun now rising from the window but he didn’t need to sleep any more.

Not after you cuddled into his chest, lips kissing his pale and soft skin of his torso.

Not after you not shying away from his physical form.

Not after you whispered to him in the intimate moments that he was perfect and good enough.

And not after his dreams finally came true.

Masterlist

Part One of Two

Part Two of Two

taglist: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad