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alpydk · 4 months

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Fire and Ice

My contribution to the art/fic trade with @orangekittyenergy - Tav's can be very personal, so I'm praying that this is okay. I really enjoyed this and let it all just go where it needed which probably explains the length written in the last few hours... I like writing, it's productive daydreaming.

Word Count - 3339 words - Angst/Comfort, happy ending

Fawn cursed the depth of the wizard’s chest as they squeezed into the alleyway, her half-elf body forced so closed to him she could feel the tensed pectoral muscles against her own slight frame. He’d gone to talk only for her to place her palm against his mouth, her eyes a glaring signal that now was not the time for a lecture on the making of deals you did not plan to keep.

The Zhentarim mercenary ran past, his footsteps heavy on the sundried cobbles of the city streets. Baldur’s Gate was no longer their potential turf, all because of the involvement of a group of meddling adventurers. She’d known what was going to happen, her dealings with them all those years ago not allowing her the true freedom she desired, but after all this time, after Gale’s belief that she was a noble person, she couldn’t go back into negotiations with them. Her brother would be disappointed, but this was for the best and maybe, with luck, one day she could save him from them as well.

She felt the moistened heat of Gale’s breath upon her hand, his eyes growing impatient, his own hands fidgety around her waist. They crept around to the base of her back, pulling her in a little closer, and she felt the effects their perilous situation was having on her wanting companion. He’d once read a book, he’d explained, and she’d believed him wholeheartedly after that night, what the effects of danger had on desire. What had once been her quiet, well-spoken wizard had become as unrestrained as the magical energies at her own command.

Her hand lowered from his mouth as the danger passed, a hunger in her own eyes spurred by the closeness of his physique. The sweat from his brow brought strands of hair to stick, his sandalwood scent merged with her own, his lips would taste of the morning’s fresh bread.

“Fuckin’ magic users. They’ve probably gone and cast some invisibility or some other bullshit.” “Yeah, but they can’t have got too far. You check the sewers; I’ll try the park.” “Why do I get the sewers?” “Because you already smell like shit. Quite complaining.”

The elf listened as the two mercenaries parted ways, leaving her and Gale with the chance to escape. Her shoulders wanted to relax, but the playful smirk of the wizard, the hand that gripped her hip a little too tightly, would not allow her the possibility. “Gale… We both know this isn’t the right time.”

He brought his face to her neck; heated breaths merged with soft kisses. “Maybe, but how many more opportunities will we get like this?”

She sighed at his words. She knew he was right, as usual. The upcoming battles would grow more difficult: Orin, Gortash, The Netherbrain. There were so many that one or both of them might not come back from, so many moments where they could be torn apart from one another, where she could lose him, as she had so many others before. His fervent kisses became more eager the longer she took to resist. His tongue ran up the arch of her neck, her hips pushing instinctively into his within the confines of the shadowed alleyway, her hands beginning their own dance trapped between their compressed bodies.

“Oh shit, sorry.” A child stumbled upon them, trying to use the alleyway as a shortcut home.

Fawn tensed and used the momentary distraction to pull herself from Gale’s grasp, her heartbeat raised, her own sweat beading under her russet tones, joining the scarred line across her eye. She slid herself from his hands, out from under the shaded canopy of the buildings and into the stifling city sun. The child gave a small laugh and squeezed past Gale with ease, running down the alley to their unknown destination.

---

He tensed up, running his hands down his robes, a combination of patting off the dust from the brick wall behind him and making himself look like the presentable magic user he was and not the desperate sack of physical urges she always turned him into. He patted his side once, twice, before looking down. “The child has pilfered my gold pouch…”

She chuckled at his misfortune. “Yeah, they’ll do that if you’re not paying attention. You need to keep your wits up about you. Try to focus on less pressing matters.”

Her playful smile did not go unnoticed as he emerged into the sunlight, his lips moistened from yearned kisses, cheeks blushed as Elverquisst. He didn’t know what it was about her that drove him to these uncharacteristic moments of insanity. He’d suspected it was the Weave coursing through her veins, binding the two of them together, trying to entwine as it naturally would, or maybe it was the way her glance always saw through him. Ever since the portal incident, it was as if she’d read him like he was one of the simplest tomes known to man, and he’d happily let her trace her fingers over every weathered page.

He sighed, knowing there was little point in chasing the urchin. A few measly gold to him would mean a week’s worth of food for the child, most likely a refugee of the city, or one of the many orphans growing up into a world of thievery and the Guild’s politics. Taking Fawn’s delicate hand into his own, he stepped forward. He saw the gentle dusting of ash, the crackling of a lightning bolt leaving its reminder on her ivory skin, and he ran his thumb over it, revealing the beauty that lay beneath. He made a note to place a kiss there later in the evening, a starting point of the map he planned to use on an awaited exploration of mounds and crevices.

As they walked through the streets back to camp, their attentions split between each other and the potential lookouts trying to find them, Gale spoke. “A friend of the family… I always was curious why Roah said that to you.”

The half-elf lifted her hazel eyes to him, and he could see the calculations going on, the wall she kept up so readily now being further supported with a cold distance. “That’s just the phrase the Zhentarim use. She meant nothing by it.” Her voice wavered a little, an uncertainty in the strength of her lie, and he felt her pace quicken a little as if she were trying to escape the situation she found herself in.

“My love, I know there have been many a moment my propensity to read into behaviours has led to disorder, but I cannot help but notice your aversion to this line of questioning.”

“You wizards…” She sighed deeply, releasing his hand as she walked further ahead of him.

He stopped for a moment, trying to register her words. Again, this would be the argument of the evening, as it had been a few times before when things became uncomfortable for her. She would claim that all wizards were too curious for their own good, that their unnatural abilities with magic are what lead them to unbridled ambition. Once, she had stumbled over her words and inadvertently blamed him for his own folly, and only once had he blamed her reckless use of magic for the reason she had no loved ones to speak of. This was not the way he wanted things to continue going.

“Fawn, wait.” He took a few quick steps forward and kept pace with her, trying to quench the rising flames as quickly as he could. “You know I meant no harm with my line of reasoning. I simply wish to understand why the Zhentarim have turned on us as ardently as they appear to have.”

“And you expect me to know? As if I’m some omnipotent goddess watching over all?”

He shook his head at her words. Clearly, time would be the best solution to remedy the matter at hand. He considered his options: continue with her in stony silence, or take a different route, allowing them both the chance to clear their heads. There was little distance until the campsite and the risk of being captured was practically zero now that they were out of the busy city streets. “You make it very clear sometimes that you are not a goddess. I apologise for my blind devotion.” His words hurt as he spoke them, too final, too reminiscent of words he had wanted to utter during his year alone.

---

Fawn watched as he turned from her, his footsteps growing quieter as he took the eastern path from her. She wanted to run after him, to apologise and explain everything, but it had always been easier to push those around her away. To protect them and herself. She thought of her brother when she was a young girl, how he had left the first moment he could. She hadn’t understood fully at the time, but as she grew and trained under their father, it became clearer. Their mother was gone, leaving nothing but ex-military routine and training, her sorcerer blood a disappointment in her father’s cold eyes.

She walked the path to camp alone, knowing she had been wrong to speak as she had done. She longed to be back in that alleyway, lustfully bound to Gale, his body pressed against hers, and only the present moment existing between them. No tragic pasts, no doomed futures. The tents fell into view with the setting of the sun, shadows extending like creeping tendrils. She was thankful that they grew no further than permitted; the Shadowlands finally resolved of its dreadful curse that took so many lives.

Gale sat outside his tent, a book in hand, the pages turning with a little more agitation than either of them liked. Soon he would begin to cook, and with it, calm down enough for her to approach him, restarting the cycle of their relationship once again. She thought not of the future, instead finding comfort in the recent past, of Moonrise Towers, and royal blue sheets beneath her, of words of love and comfort.

---

He saw her come back to camp, her quick glance placed over him, but he refused to lift his head to her. He was angry, though he was unsure at which of them it was directed at. She had yet again pushed him away, but again he had questioned her motives rather than trusting her. Fawn had believed him from the start of his history with Mystra and the orb. She’d granted magic items without reservation, had held his hand softly as the pain had been too much for him, and then there had been Moonrise; a night that he believed would be his last. Long before that starlit evening he had realised his love for her, but it was only then that he had summoned the courage to admit it to her, and she had replied in kind. From that night he’d given her everything he could of himself, his honesty, love, body. If she requested it, he would happily give his life for her.

Now though she departed for her tent, an armour put up that he was unsure he could break through. He moved to the campfire, his hands mindlessly preparing the evening meal, his eyes watching the flickering flames that danced over the firewood. Gale sat alone for some time; his mind lost in thoughts of how he could remedy the situation. The pot boiled away, the savoury broth releasing the homely aroma into the air. His shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched from its involuntary position.

Quietly placing herself beside him, he noticed Fawn lift the wooden spoon and stir. “Smells nice,” she said softly, testing the waters of conversation.

“Well, I always strive for the best. In both magic and cooking.”

The silence hung heavily around them, neither knowing what to say nor how to apologise, if they should apologise.

Fawn brought the spoon to her lips, giving the broth a silenced blow before taking it into her reddened lips. “It tastes nice, too. Could use a little salt, though.”

“Always the food critic, never the cook.” He smirked at her, trying to ignore the pleasure he felt on seeing her tongue licking at the tip of the wooden spoon. Easily distracted by the movements, the cookery, and her presence, he found it difficult to focus on the matters he wanted to discuss with her. He coughed nervously, bringing himself back on track. “Are we going to discuss earlier or refrain from the topic altogether?”

She shuffled awkwardly, placing the utensil back in the pot sharply. “And say what, Gale? That again, you have sought answers for questions you yourself have made?”

“I seek answers to the secrets you hide from me.” His voice came out more exasperated than he wished, and he took the momentary silence to compose himself. “When I was a young wizard, and not the fallen Chosen you witness before you, I had a Drow elf as a… Well, a close friend. She would often chastise me similarly to how you do and always strived to do better than me, as if it was a competition.” He took a pinch of salt and added it to the cooking pot that lay between them both. “She often spoke of khaless, trust, but especially misplaced or foolish trust; something she saw in me so often as I worked to become the best I could be. And she was right in what she observed. I do trust too easily, and I certainly love far easier and with more of my heart than is wise.”

He hoped she understood his words, his long-winded explanation, an apology for who he was as a person, for the pressure he placed on her simply by being honest with her. He watched as she exhaled; her gaze focussing softly on him. He was unsure where this conversation would lead, but the balance needed to be disrupted. He had given all, and now it was her turn.

---

Fawn knew she had pushed and pushed, but it had now gone too far. Emotionally closed off was the term her brother had used in mockery so many years ago. She may have struggled to wield a sword as much as father had wished, but she had mastered the concept of psychological warfare. “Do not share yourself or else they see your weakness. Do not let your mental guard down or your heart be pierced.”

Gale spoke, and she listened. Together they had been as fire and ice and slowly her heart had begun to melt. “We have a similar word in Elvish, kessuk. It translates to stupid,” she said, trying to hold on to her walls so desperately.

Gale gave an awkward chuckle. “Maybe it is that which she was truly insinuating.” He lowered his head, the heart of the subject now approaching. “I suppose what I poorly attempt to articulate to you is that maybe I have been kessuk, as you so bluntly put it.”

Her mouth fell open at his words, the belief that he was in the wrong almost an insult which hurt her. “No. No. How can you even think that?”

“My dear, I love you and you know I would offer my love to you for a thousand more nights to come should the opportunity unveil itself, but, and I say this with nothing but the starlight of my heart that shines for you, I do not know how much more I can give. There are times I feel you may not be on the same proverbial page as me, and in some lonelier moments, even in the same book.”

Her heart broke at his words; that this was possibly the end for them, now nothing but starlit nights fading to dawn, of darkened alleys bathed in sunlight. “But…” The tears built up in her eyes and she looked away before Gale could see her weakness.

His voice was soft as he spoke, not demands but innocent questions that she couldn’t ignore. “This is what I speak of, Fawn. You shut me out, all of us. What will it take for me to see the heart that has beaten in tandem with mine? To feel the selfless love that I know is buried deep beneath the surface.”

Her hands sat in her lap, struggling to find a place of rest. The sorcerer rarely felt fear in the face of danger, had stood against the gods and their orders, but at this moment she felt vulnerable, as if Gale was seeing every crack in her armour as clearly as the scar on her face. “I left Baldur’s Gate before things got too bad, but until then, I was in a rough situation.”

She went on for some time telling him of her childhood, of the mother she never knew and the father who couldn’t accept what she was, of her brother who introduced her to the Zhentarim and the odd jobs she unknowingly did for them before understanding who they truly were. She spoke of Roah and their passing acquaintance, of how she had left the city and begun to build a life of her own, wielding her magic that flowed so naturally. As her tale continued, Gale grew closer to her, his hand resting on hers, a weight that brought her calm. The fire dimmed, and the food cooled, but every secret was told, every emotion bared for him to see and reject if he so wished.

---

He looked at her with sympathy, understanding all too well how a childhood under a soldier could be; training schedules and emotions hidden being the law of the home. Their lives had run similar paths at the beginning, but turned out differently. Both, though, had been ones of loneliness and finding their own way. Whilst hers had been one of potential crime, his had been of isolated study. He had grown to love too easily; she struggled to love. His magic had led him into the arms of a goddess; hers had driven her away from the arms of her father.

As she fell quiet, he knew there was little he could say. All questions had been answered, and the truth finally revealed to him. The woman who sat in front of him glowed brighter than she ever had. Under the mask had been revealed a strength and reliance that only made him love her more. He brought his arms around her and pulled her in close, no longer lustful hands of trailing desire yearning for her, but a desperate need to protect her and love her as she was in that moment. He felt her warm breath on his chest, smelt the floral aroma as he nestled his face in her hair.

---

A small part of her felt exhausted, as if she had endured a battle and emerged from the rubble battered and bruised. His arms around her felt like a home she had never had, a safety and connection with another person she had only ever dreamt of. He’d listened to her, accepted the past she had run from and now still embraced her as fondly, if not more so. She lifted her head to his, her soft lips brushing up against his, wanting in her eyes to give him everything, to no longer hold back from him in any aspect of their relationship. “I love you, Gale.”

His hands drifted up her back as their lips met, as the stars shone just for them, and time halted its ever-journeying march. For a thousand nights more, they would share in moments like this, some frantic and passionate in darkened alleyways, some in the desperate eagerness of sun-drenched fields, others more leisurely from the sanctuary of Gale’s tower as the rains fell from the heavens. A thousand more nights of a future together; Gale and Fawn burning with starlight as one.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #art/fic trade #not panicking about the quality #not comparing it to other writers who are much better #no not me

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poetryinsilence · 7 months

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A Wish for Eternity

Astarion x gn!magical!tav

A/n: am I madly in love with this elf? Yes. Do I wish to bring him everything he hoped and dreamed of? Also, yes. Hence, here I am, thinking about what happens after the epilogue, did he search for a way? If you play as a sorcerer or wizard, once you are at a higher level (not in the game), there is a certain spell that could achieve your hopes and dreams. So, what if…? Anyway, happy fluffy valentine's day!

Synopsis: a long journey of travelling through every corner of Faerûn for what seems to be an eternity. Luck sure isn’t on your side in your quest to find a mythical item, a cloak. Rumoured to be special, you are determined to find it, with your nightwalking partner, Astarion. But, fate has other things on its mind.

Word: 2,344

6 months after you reunited heartfelt celebrations with inebriated companions; the night never seems to cease with boundless alcohols and dancing to lively tunes until your feet refuse to leave the ground. Through thick and thin, nonetheless, such an adventure weaved you all together at the stake of Baldur’s gate.

At the right place, at the right time.

In a blink of an eye, another 6 months had gone by. On your quest, you trek through the marsh terrain on your journey and strangle a few swamp things; scorched and burned under the dry heat of the sun and almost meet your fatal death by getting swallowed up inside a giant sandworm; and almost, almost, stepped into the fey realm by no fault of your own. Suppose it wasn’t for a certain trickster. A very lovable trickster, mind you.

The relentless quest to acquire an article of clothing—a rare magical item; enchanted with each woven of threads. A cloak, to be exact, that was once said to have been created by drows of the Underdark. To allow one that’s weak in sunlight to walk freely under the blistering sun.

You first heard about this mystic item from none other than Gale. The wizard was lost in his recent reverie of taking upon the role of teaching, to no surprise. One night, while holed up in his tower, flicking through weathered pages of tomes, when he came across the wonders of this cloak. Intrigued, as he may be, wanting to study the magic behind this unique fabric. After all, a little more knowledge wouldn’t hurt.

But, it seems others require it more than him. Lo and behold, he appears when you think your luck has run out. Seems like Tymora has finally blessed you with a pat on the back, who would say no to divine intervention?

Although this is a solution to your current situation, it all just seems too good to be true. A flimsy piece of garment is your answer? You could swipe a black cloak from the market and enchant it yourself. Though you are well-versed in magic, enchanting items aren’t really your forte. Nor are you of drow descent to know such ways of crafting.

You had your doubts about this cloak, however, you do not doubt the reliability of Gale. If he said such a thing exists, then it must be credible.

Month after month of tracking your journey—based on one rumour that gossamer across Faerûn. With every possible lead, you travelled across the continent of the cityscape to the underworld. This endless journey may be gruesome, but you didn’t do it alone. Your lover, Astarion, walks amongst your shadow. By day, you are his shield protecting him under the blazing sun. At night, he swore as your sword to cut through the lurking dangers of the dark.

The Sun and its Moon.

He is the reason why you’re on this journey in the first place. To bring him the sunlight once more, to breathe in the life of the Pelor over the vast lands that were taken from him when he was still young. But the chances of finding this cloak are getting slimmer by day—like water slipping through the cracks of your hand.

Astarion’s hope is getting dimmer, too. You tried to reassure him that you were certain the both of you were getting close; maybe you were just not looking at the right places.

Of course, he brushes you off with a smile and jokes that he’s not that interested in it because ‘cloaks cramp his style’. He persuades you not to mind it so much. Or, hoping you’d be the mirror reverberating back to him instead. But you can see right through the facade. Pride. Shame. Disappointment. All too familiar.

The guilt is rubbing off on you. When you talked him out of ascension, you believed that it would be the best decision for him. You were no better than the others.

No. This shouldn’t be the answer. If the cloak’s got you nowhere then you just have to look at this situation from a different perspective. Take matters into your own hands, even if danger is on deck. At the very least, you have to try.

You made camp for the night; a quaint spot overlooking the horizon that joins the sky and the sea, with the moon taking stage in a cloudless canvas. The pale elf took charge of the campfire with a stick in his hand to poke the flame. Next to him, you lie down with your hands weaving through the air, connecting the stars together, making a revelation to your own understanding of your magic. It flows through you like the air that you breathe; like calm waters gliding your hands.

This might be the perfect time to ask, though wyverns gnaw at your stomach, you’ve run through this scenario millions of times in your head. You’re prepared, you think.

The lavender and turquoise hue dissipates from your fingertips, you steal a glance in Astarion’s direction and sit up amid his distraction.

“If you’re getting tired, you should sleep first. I’ll join you in a little while.” He chimes out.

His little ritual, you’ve noticed. Whenever the two of you opted to camp in the arms of nature instead of paying for a tavern’s night and listening to drunk patrons shouting till the break of dawn. He would lay with you in your bedroll until you fell asleep, then as quiet as a mouse, he’d get up an hour or two just before sunrise. You’d caught him once, just as curiosity nips at you, slipping out of the tent and finding him sitting in the open field with the blades of grass swaying to its own rhythm. Just watching, waiting. Waiting to catch a glimpse of the sun, as it slowly casts life back to the lands, before the ray decays him. The light sears his skin and cracks like dry paint, biting down the pain as much as possible until he’s bound back to the shadows. Then you’ll find him in bed again like nothing ever happened.

“Astarion?”

“Yes, darling?” He hummed.

“What if…” you hesitated, “what if we stop looking for this cloak?” Your voice wavered at the end of your sentence.

The stick in his hand stopped. You can see it, the thoughts forming in his mind like a potion. Stunned, confusion and a drop of anger concocted in muddy colour. But like a cork on top, he bottled it up when he soon turned to face you, the warm glow lit up his plastic grin.

“Oh, heavens! I forgot about that until you’ve brought it up.” His voice is in a higher octave. A string of vicious mockery disguising his lie, in all honesty, stings more than you think.

“No, that’s not—let me rephrase this. W-what I’m trying to say is, how about we look for a different method?” You asked, hands fidgeting more than usual.

His crimson gaze pierced in you, they engulfed and tangled like flames, wanting to swallow you whole till you’re nothing but a pile of ashes. “Vampirism isn’t an illness or a wound. If a person dies, they could be resurrected. But I’m too far gone beyond the point of living now, darling. There is no other way.” He snarled, snapping his gaze away before he could say something he truly regrets.

“But..there is another way.” Your voice comes out with nothing short of a whisper. Astarion’s shoulders slumped as he perceived your words, now fire in his eyes had extinguished and reflected with the solemn of moonlight.

Hope.

You spring onto your feet and take his hands into yours, thumb gently caressing his skin.

“Don’t give me any hope. 200 years of hoping for hope has tormented me endlessly that I do not want to be part of it again. Please…I do not have the heart to take this…” Astarion whimpered. You can hear the sob suppressed in his throat for the last 200 years as his hands tremble, emotions so vulnerable and unravelled right in front of you that he so desperately tried to hide. It shouldn’t be like this. It breaks your heart to see the man earning his freedom, yet the illusions of shackles are still tying him down.

It is unfair.

You grip his hands tighter to your heart, biting down the tears threatening to spill. “When there’s a will, there is a way,” You smiled. “Astarion Ancunin, what is it that you wish for?”

“What? But—I don’t understand—“ his brows furrow trying to make sense of your words but failing. Yet, he can feel a tingle at the back of his neck. A sign.

“Please, Astarion. Tell me your wish.”

The warning bells in his mind are telling him to run, to end this conversation right here, right now. But the fluttering feeling in his gut is saying ‘This is it. This is the moment you’ve been desperately trying to find’. Now the sparkle in your eyes is drawing him in, things that he had been longing for, and the love you are showing him. The sign he’d desperately prayed to the gods for all these years.

“I wish…” he trailed off, “I wish to walk in the sun again. I wish to see this world in the light that I was created in; I wish to take back the life that was ripped away from me for all these years, in darkness and torment, to have what is rightfully mine.

I wish to live again.”

The soil beneath your feet vibrates and crackles, the fabric of your clothes softly ripples in the air; a lavender beam emerges through and etches your runes, circling a gateway around both of you.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

Statics channelling in the air as you tune yourself to the weave. You can feel it. You can feel it all—the dark musk of ember, the evergreen blades rustle, the crashing of ocean waves. Magic tying deep into the burrows of the Earth willing to your command, feeding brighter into your rune as you hold on to its reins. But, the power of this spell is not without a cost, like gravity dragging you down. Your face breaks into sweat with the force burning in your gut.

“Stop that! You’re killing yourself!” Astarion struggles to break free from your grasp.

“Don’t—I’m almost there!”

A sinking pressure presses in Astarion’s chest; it’s warm, then burns aflame but it does not hurt; the pressure pushes deeper, searing through his organs and scratches at each porous of his rib cage. And then, gone.

The sound of silence.

Your legs give out as you crumble onto the floor, ready for impact. With a swift motion, Astarion catches you in his arms and carefully lays you in his lap. His mouth opens, ready to protest with his snarky remarks but closes it again, brushing away strands of stray hair from your battered face.

You chuckled breathlessly, reaching your hand, heavy as it may, and cupped his face. “Your wish has been granted.”

The sky begins to transition in lilac as dawn breaks, the ocean glimmers on the horizon and songbirds sing their tunes again. The red flaming ball peeked through the crystal water, bringing out the soft glow of orange. As the first ray of light shines, the warmth of it carries. Hungry, delicate, a sign of life.

“I’m…alive.”

A gentle breeze picks up and brushes against his cheek; hot tears spew from the corner of his eyes. So naturally warm. So, very warm. The silvery strands swayed to the rhythm of the wind, and he inhaled deeply, as much as his frail body could hold, the nostalgic scent of sunshine, like a spring afternoon.

Then, an unfamiliar familiar sense came. A thud. And another. Something rattling endlessly at his ribcage threatening to come out and yet staying in its place, a rhythmic humming coursing through his chest to the tips of his fingers. A sound so loud thumping and yet so quiet as a whisper in his ear. A sense of jamais vu.

“You'll always be who you are. No matter what you've become—a vampire or not. I will love you as long as life continues to breathe on these vast lands. And till the end of time."

Astarion squeezes you into a tight hug. He’s trembling in your embrace, and catching you off guard, he bursts into a fit of laughter. Maybe even your first time to hear him laughing with such carefree manner but the heat of his tears travels to your shoulder. Your hand finds its way to his soft locks, petting him as you melt deeper into his touch.

He pulls back, eyes frantically searching your face. “I-I don’t—I can’t—“ he clears his throat, “thank you, my love.”

He cups your cheeks and gravitates towards your lips. Sweet and velvety, your lips curl at his kiss. He pulls away just enough to admire your features; cheeks flushed rosy and eyes bright and confident. Everything about you is love-touched, that after centuries, someone could cut through the world to bring him back into the light.

“Now, are you going to stare at me all morning, or are we going to get some breakfast?” You teased.

“Actually, I was thinking,” Astarion eyes you up and down. Whenever he has some brilliant idea, it’s never a good one. “The tent’s been empty all night, and I think we should, um, keep our bedrolls warm, at least.”

His hand slithers its way under the hem of your shirt, running a hand at your soft curves. You sigh in defeat, knowing you could never say no to his lovable face.

“Fine. I guess breakfast can wait.” You smirk.

Hands flew to the collar of his shirt as you yank him down to your lips. You parted them slightly, an invitation for him to deepen his kiss, teeth included. It might be a long morning, but there are plenty of mornings yet to come.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #⭐️.doc

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astraphone · 24 days

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nothing ventured, nothing gained

1.2k, gen, cadash & varric. amber cadash doesn't care what her hand can do; she's not sticking around to be executed for a crime she didn't commit.

When Amber wakes up in Haven after almost dying for the second time in three days, she decides enough is enough.

She waits until the elf woman closes the door behind her before beginning the inventory that she always goes through when she wakes up in a cell.

First step, assess herself. She feels a bit like she’s been run over by a wagon, but she’s not in chains, which is an improvement. That damned mark is still glowing on her hand, but it feels more ‘strange and uncomfortable’ than ‘about to kill her’. She’ll get used to it, probably.

Second step, assess the room. It’s a few steps up from the prison cell; it looks more like a bedroom than a cell at all, actually. There’s a spare set of clothes folded next to the bed, a cloak sized for a dwarf hanging on the back of the door, and a small assortment of food set out on a table. Best of all, there’s a window on the wall opposite the door.

Third step, get the fuck out. She pushes herself out of bed—she's a little shaky on her feet, but she's been worse—and gets to work. She dresses quickly in the spare clothes and cloak, and throws the food in a sack. It isn’t much, but it’ll have to do; with any luck, she’ll be well out of town before anyone realizes she’s gone. She heaves herself out the window and into the waiting snow without a backwards glance.

“Going somewhere?”

She starts. The dwarf, Cassandra’s other prisoner—Varric, she thinks his name was—is leaning against the wall. He’s positioned himself so he’d been just beyond her line of sight when she’d checked to see if the coast was clear before going out the window. Clever bastard.

She crosses her arms, giving him the 'fuck with me and face the consequences' look that she’s perfected after years in the Carta. “Maybe I am. What’s it to you?”

He doesn’t so much as flinch at her glare. “Nothing at all. I’d probably be doing the same, if I were in your shoes.”

Part of Amber is itching to just shove past him and make a run for it, but he’s armed with that ridiculous crossbow and she’s got nothing. She doesn’t think he’d shoot her, but that’s a gamble she’d be making with her life, and that feels like tempting fate after the week she’s had. She’s stuck, for now.

“How’d you know?” She asks.

“You aren’t the only shifty smuggler type, remember? I heard you were awake. Figured you might be doing the reasonable thing and making a break for it.”

“Fine. Yes. I’m not sticking around for some sham trial for a crime I didn’t commit, alright?” Not that she’d stick around if she had committed the crime, but he doesn’t need to know that. “The Carta will have my head if they find out I survived the Conclave and didn’t come back. I need to go, and you need to get out my way.”

“Like I said. Reasonable.” Varric moves, and for a second Amber thinks he’s about to go for his crossbow. Instead, he takes off the pack he’s been wearing and tosses it to her. She catches it instinctively and raises an eyebrow at him. “For you. Call it a thank you gift for stabilizing the breach.”

She warily opens the pack and peers inside. More food—nothing special, but enough to buy her a few more days—and a small selection of daggers.

Off of her astonished look, Varric shrugs. “Couldn’t exactly sneak that two-hander you were using out from under Cassandra’s nose, but I figured no one would notice a missing dagger or two.”

“…What’s the catch?”

Varric chuckles at that. “Spoken like a true Carta woman. There’s no catch. I’ve seen what happens when normal people get sucked into something that’s larger than life. It’s never pretty.”

She’s shoving the food she took from inside into the pack as he speaks, slipping it over her shoulders. “It’s not about getting sucked into anything. It’s about not wanting to get executed.”

“In that case, you should probably know that half of Haven is calling you a hero now, Cassandra included. I’m pretty sure execution is off the table.”

That does explain the elf—she’d been in too much of a rush to get out to think too hard about it at the time—but 'pretty sure' isn’t much to go on. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“Fair enough. Well, best of luck out there. I’d get moving before the Seeker realizes you're gone, if I were you.”

“What, you aren’t coming?”

“Ah, no.” Varric shrugs, looking something like awkward for the first time since they met. “I figured I’d stick around, see what I can do.”

She stares at him incredulously. “Cassandra took you prisoner and dragged you out here and you want to help her?”

“Not her, specifically. But I’ve done my fair share of standing by and hoping the problem goes away—it doesn’t tend to. If everything goes to shit this time, at least I can say I tried.”

“Is that your attempt at a guilt trip?”

“No, just an observation from someone who spent a long time trying to keep his head down. I hope it works out better for you.”

With that, Varric turns and walks away, and there’s nothing standing between Amber and a path out of here. She should move, quickly. She has food and a weapon, and if she’s smart about it and keeps her head down that might just be enough to get her to a port. She can catch a ship back to the Free Marches, and then—

And then go back to the Carta, and her small, brutal life that means nothing. And the sky will still be torn apart, and she’ll be no one but someone who could’ve helped and didn’t. Amber’s greatest wish has long been for a way out of this dead end life, and she’s never done a damned thing about it.

Varric could be lying, and she could be thrown right back in jail or worse. Or the Carta could hunt her down for cutting and running. Or she could prove to be no match for the demons pouring out of these rifts. All reasons not to stay—but she’s never going to have a chance like this again.

Oh, dust it all, I’m going to regret this. Amber swears under her breath and hurries after Varric. "Hold up.”

Varric stops and turns back towards her, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Thanks for the gear,” she says, because the list of people who have stuck their necks out for her is a short one. “I won’t forget it. But I’m going to stay for now.”

Amber doesn’t know Varric well enough yet to know if the look he’s giving her is one of approval or skepticism. “Just like that? You sure about this, Cadash?"

"Not at all. But I don’t think I want to go home.”

In the months to come, who Amber Cadash really is and what her true motivations are will cease to matter. But in this moment before everything changes, all she has is the truth, and Varric accepts it with a nod.

“Well, come on then. I’m sure the Seeker wants to talk to you.”

He gestures deeper into Haven. Amber, for better or for worse, follows.

#dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #inquisitor cadash #cadash #varric tethras #aka: the last time in a long time that cadash is honest about her motivations behind joining the inquisition #amber cadash #cleo writes

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foxglovecove · 11 months

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In which the Loki variant from the episode that lives in my head dies in battle with He Who Remains (Kang? Is it Kang? Are they one and the same? I haven’t watched Quantumania so I’m unclear if this is supposed to be the same character? I’m assuming so?)

Anyways, this is just self-indulgent art cuz I’ll never be able to write the story I have in mind but I can attempt to do some scenes from it.

More ramblings under the cut

Originally I was thinking Sigyn would also wear Loki’s colors to show they’re a united front, but I like the idea of her having her own color palette and then each of them having some small details as a nod to the other, at least when it comes to their battle clothes. I gave Sigyn here blue and gold with some green here and there for Loki, and Loki got a bit of Sigyn’s blue.

If they had been given a chance to grow old together their colors would probably blend more as sometimes happens with old couples (ha), but alas they never got that chance. Sigyn also gets pointy elf ears cuz who knows maybe she’s a descendant of the Dark Elves somewhere along the line. Who’s ta say?

Back to the story/episode idea:

It’s been about a week since TVA Loki and Mobius have shown up in Sigyn’s timeline. They’re still searching for this timeline’s HWR and haven’t had any luck so they decide they need to draw him out. Not sure how yet, it’s a WIP, but at any rate one evening there’s a party at the palace. Not sure why, maybe someone’s birthday, or they’re just having a good old fashioned “it’s winter, let’s feast” party or something idk.

Everyone’s having a good time but Sigyn has been a bit melancholic since Loki returned dredging up old memories. She leaves the party discreetly and goes to this one long hallway where there’s a massive long memorial relief depicting Loki’s life, culminating in the battle where her Loki was killed.

She’s alone, or thinks she is, as she runs her fingers over the carving of her Loki. She smiles as tears form, she’s thinking about their time together when she senses someone there with her. She begins to speak:

“We were just kids when I met him. You…him…” She turns as our Loki comes out of the shadows to stand beside her. “Millennia ago now, but I remember it like yesterday…”

So she walks Loki down the hallway telling him their story. How they fell in love, how Thor had decided he didn’t want the throne because he fell in love with a mortal woman and how her Loki didn’t want it either, he didn’t feel worthy of it, but he was. And he was good at being king, he was loved by his people and they all mourned with her the day he died

Scene ends with her holding Loki’s face in her hands and just smiling and saying thank you cuz she got to see him again. Loki’s full of all the emotions and before Sigyn wanders off into the night he hugs her and holds her for a while. She also takes the opportunity to “borrow” Loki’s TemPad (unbeknownst to him. She’s a trickster too, after all, learned from the best). She’s curious about this whole time jumping, fate of the multiverse stuff

At the end of this so-called episode, after they’ve caught this timeline’s HWR and returned to the TVA with him so they can read his temporal aura and hopefully prevent the meltdown of the loom, Sigyn has a talk with her sons, telling them it’s their time to rule. When she’s alone, she pulls out the TemPad, activating it: it’s time for her to have adventures of her own

#Loki show #my art #loki variant #king Loki of Asgard #variant #Sigyn #WIP #love and death #Loki #MCU #norse mythology #magic #goddess of victory #victory giver

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 11 months

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reading updates: october 2023

hi everybody!!! things (by which I mean everything) have been a little bit hectic lately (by which I mean it feels like everything is one fire 100% of the time), which I guess explains why I'm late posting this AND why I only finished four books in all of October.

I would be very sad about this if the number of books I read had any correlation to my value as a person, but luckily it doesn't! so I don't give a shit, I am literally just vibing and trying to have a good time reading my silly little stories. here's a book report about it.

what I've been reading:

The Goblin Emperor (Katherine Addison, 2014) - okay, so picture this: you're the fucking elf king's least favorite son. you're not a bastard, but he didn't love your mom and after she died he basically banished you to a miserable little estate in bumfuck nowhere with no one but your abusive older cousin for company. probably he was going to leave you out there forever and hope that you would die quietly so no one would ever have to remember you existed. (un)fortunately, your shitty dad and all of his male heirs just died in a blimp accident and now you're the emperor. GOOD LUCK. this book is political fantasy of the highest order, with loads of machinations and intrigue and chewy worldbuilding interspersed with genuinely sweet moments between characters as one very good boy befriends his way to power. blah blah empires are inherently evil, obviously yes but this is a made up empire with 0 real consequences and Maia is my little dude. the only way I could love him more would be if he'd just nutted up and kissed his boy secretary on the mouth.

Happy Hour (Marlowe Granados, 2020) - I kept seeing this book enthusiastically as kind of a light fizzy funtime celebrating being young and free and running around New York City with no plans, and man... that was not my experience! Isa and Gala are maybe the most stressful girls I've ever encountered in fiction: perpetually broke and hungry, absolutely lacking in direction or ambition, always ricocheting listlessly from one situation to another in search of a good time and mostly only discovering disappointment, I need these girlies to get their lives together for my sake as a reader. there's one scene in particular where Isa is crashing with some disgustingly wealthy friends at the beach and keeps getting callously dismissed while sweating profusely and trying to figure out how she's going to convince them to keep paying for her food and it was so visceral that I developed a second, worse anxiety disorder because of it. Granados' writing is stylish, to be sure, but drama was not worth it for me.

The Magpie Lord (KJ Charles, 2013) - this historical fantasy romance is quick, dynamic, and horny. I can't actually say that I'm particularly charmed by the quality of the writing, which is there to hurtle you at warp speed between scenes of homoeroticism and bald exposition about magic, but I do admire Charles' panache. the book opens on a rather gruesome scene of our protagonist, Lord Crane, attempting to slit his own wrist; it quickly becomes clear that this isn't because he's genuinely suicidal, but because he's been cursed by persons unknown in an attempt to drive him to ruin. enter Stephen Day, a magic practitioner who hated Crane's deceased father and brother but is determined to help him all the same. some plot happens, but also a lot of flirting and (spoilers) sex that comes with an actual power-up for Stephen due to the wonders of blood magic. a pulpy good-time all around, and short enough that it doesn't overstay its welcome.

The Fervor (Alma Katsu, 2022) - The Fervor is a historical horror with a tantalizing premise: in the 1940s, Japanese demons begin to manifest inside of an Idaho internment camp for Japanese-Americans, adding a swirl of the supernatural to a situation that's already rife with mundane horrors. the actual execution is... lacking. Katsu's prose is blunt at best; when I call it "unsubtle" I don't mean the way some racist might mean when they inevitably go on a ramble about how Katsu beats her readers over the head with how racism is bad. racism is bad, duh, and it's hardly unrealistic to emphasize the fear and hatred that dogged the lives of Japanese-Americans during WW2. when I say this book is unsubtle I mean Katsu approaches each chapter like her readers have maybe forgotten everything they read leading up to that moment; you will be reminded frequently of characters' names, relationships, and straightforward motivations. and yet, somehow, the actual plot is still pretty murky. much is hinted at in the protagonist's past in Japan, then never actually elucidated, a main POV character falls clean out of the plot without resolution just before the climax, I still don't know what was up with those goddamn demon spiders. disappointing!

there was also one very specific, GLARING thing in the ending of The Fervor that I did not care for in the slightest, but that's tucked away on my Patreon in the monthly hater post. pay me if you want to hear about some CRAZY copaganda!

#bookblr #reading updates

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batshikns · 4 months

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hii i heard you had a bsd dungeon meshi crossover au and as somene trying to make one themself id like to hear about urs :0

OOOHHHHH OOOOO!!!! heads-up, i haven't thought about them for.. a little bit and i dont know some details about dungeon menshi, but! tysm for asking and being interested!!!

(lucky for you, i had an entire backstory brainstormed that i never posted >:3c)

First off, Dazai is an elf and Chuuya is a dwarf. I was thinking the PM is this big function that hosts adventuring teams and the ADA is an opposing function that's much smaller. the PM is this really big one that super powerful and destroys dungeons easily(often using black magic and other illegal ways)(run by Mori, who is also an elf). The ADA is a smaller but equally powerful. Unlike the PM, they don't have set-in-stone teams and usually rotate on who goes into dungeons and such.

Dazai, as a long-lived species, loathes death. I think it'd be ironic because elves live a lot longer than other species(so dazai can't even rely on death from natural causes). Around the time Dazai was still younger(i dont know an exact date), Mori took in Dazai to the PMAF(Port Magic Adventuring Function?). Something very similar to cannon.

Not much changed with Chuuya either besides maybe the fact the sheep were a group of kids dungeon diving who didnt have parental figures in their life? Chuuya probably would've been the strongest and such and made the team's weapons. yadda yadda, Chuuya makes a deal with the PMAF, Arahibaki is some kind of dark mage that's essence was put into Chuuya, Chuuya gets betrayed and recruited into the PMAF, such and such.

Oda would probably just be a normal tall-man, so when the thing with mimic happens(some criminal group that did some war-crime stuff like in cannon) Oda would probably already be... older in age and nearing more of his 50-60's. (He probably didn't think he had much longer to live anyways). Dazai saw Oda dying, Oda tells Dazai to do some good, the whole shebang.

Dazai joins the AAT(The Armed Adventuring Teams); the function helping out with lost adventurers and fufilling bounties. He recruits Atsushi, a beastman, and probably some other stuff happens lol-

There's also the entire Book thing that would be like a product of secret dark magic and stuff, but uh... that'd make this 3x as long-

I wish you luck in making your own au and if you have any more questions about mine, just ask! ^^

#HOOOO THIS IS SO LONG IM SO SORRY #and sorry this is so dazai focused #oops-#bsd au #dungeon menshi au #bsd x dungeon menshi

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siriannatan · 2 years

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Arranged Rearrangements - chapter 1/?

It was supposed to be a one-shot as I said in an earlier post but things happen and now it'll be longer. We'll see how long.

AO3 link for anyone who prefers to read there.

Mythland Great Winter Ball was probably the most boring from the wide selection of the events fWhip has to attend. He wished Mythland wasn't as closely connected to Grimlands as it is, he really did but their empires were probably the closest among the Wither Alliance. And all that for one, simple and incredibly annoying reason - since before either of them was born fWhip has been engaged to Sausage, the current king of Mythland. And yes, he could technically recall the whole thing, being the Count of Grimlands and the leader of the Alliance but his advisors always got annoyed whenever he mentioned it. Mostly worried about what Mythland's council would get their king to do... Not that Sausage liked the whole engagement himself.

And has been ignoring fWhip for the past four hours and did not think to have any blood available for the vampire. Was he planning to starve him to death or have a rampaging starved vampire crash the party? fWhip was not about to check that so he set off to find a member of the Mythland's council and say he was not feeling well and going home.

Not that he had any intention of going home.

"But..." the councilman tried to keep the count at the party once fWhip said his piece. And glanced where Sausage was laughing loudly with some of the younger nobles. Completely ignoring his responsibilities.

"I'm sure he won't mind," fWhip grinned, restraining a sigh and with a polite bow left the ballroom and instantly went to the gardens. He was not running into any more councilmen, nobles and advisors Sausage kept in his far too big court.

The gardens were nice. Quiet and pleasantly cool to the undead count after that stuffy and boring party. He would much rather be stuck at one of Katherine's parties and fey parties were known for being incredibly boring. With a sigh, he let his wings out and flew not to Grimlands but to... Rivendell. If he had any luck Scott was still awake and reading in one of many rooms in the castle. Much better company than Sausage and his constant ignoring of fWhip unless he annoyed the Cod Father and needed help... Ugh.

His relationship with the elven king, known for being neutral and staying out of conflicts - maybe unless they involved a certain forest elf his brother eloped with... - was a strict secret only the two of them knew about. fWhip's council of course had their suspicions about it with how often fWhip came home with snow still in his hair and looking more nourished than his usual diet of blood bags and animal blood let him be. But they were smart enough to not question a vampire that could easily kill all of them. Or an elf able to swing a blade at least as long as he was tall. A runic blade but fWhip was impressed anyway every time he saw Scott with it.

Speaking of, as fWhip closed in on Rivendell and the castle only one window was lit up. The drawing room window, with a balcony about big enough for fWhip to land comfortably. Once he landed he dusted a bit of snow that settled from the gentle snowfall on his shoulders and hair and knocked, least he scare Scott.

The elven king did not make him wait long and opened the door with a smirk tugging on his lips. "Shouldn't you be in Mythland, enjoying a party?" he asked but let the Count in.

"It was even more boring than those usually are," fWhip sighed and as soon as Scott closed the door pulled the elf into a hug. "I really should just cancel the damn engagement. Ignore what my damn council thinks about it..." he mumbled into Scott's hair. It was so nice and soft and slightly curly and always smelled so nice. He really wished he could keep the elf like this forever. And it wasn't the dragon part of his brain talking.

Scott giggled at it. It was rare either of them could just relax and not care about manners and decorum. "Tell me about it?" Scott asked, freeing himself from the hug and pulled fWhip to the mess of blankets on one of the couches. Where he was before fWhip knocked. "Or would you rather listen to me talk about the complicated history of our ancestors?" he added at the pained expression that crossed fWhip's face. "And let you bite me, I'm guessing Sausage did not feed you."

fWhip sighed, falling onto and relaxing into the couch. Thank you elves and your love for comfort. "I was there for four hours and he barely even looked at me... I really don't want to talk about it..."

"It's okay," Scott smiled, settling close next to fWhip. And worked his right sleeve open. Even his more casual evening relaxing clothes had many buttons and golden embroidery. "You do look good in dress clothes if it makes you feel better. Really handsome," he smiled and gently pulled the vampire into a short soft kiss. And offered him his wrists after pulling back.

"You're the handsome one," fWhip protested and pressed a kiss to Scott's wrist. "And you're not even dressing up... And you don't need people to help you get dressed," he added before biting down. Scott's gasp followed by a quiet moan had him smirking around the bite. He always did his best to be gentle with Scott whenever the elf offered him his blood and Scott was nice and gentle to him in return. Offering a shoulder to lean on and listening to his complaints. He really wished he could be engaged to Scott instead...

"Are you sure it's enough?" Scott asked when fWhip pulled back and kissed the already slowly healing bite mark.

"Yeas, I have blood at home, don't worry about it that much," fWhip chuckled and kissed the elf once more.

"I know you do but I also know my blood is better for you," the elf huffed. "Anyway, I found out why Rivendell is no longer part of the Wither Alliance."

fWhip hummed in response, leaning back and pulling Scott into his lap. He'd hold him like this until the elf fell asleep, carry him to his bed, stay with him a bit and then go back home. As unfortunate as it was they both had empires to run and could not have a lazy morning, not with how their relationship was.

"Yes, my grandfather insulted your great-grandfather by marrying him to my mother and not your grandfather. I have their angry letters," he chuckled, leaning into fWhip as if he was a pile of his comfiest pillows.

"Was the engagement completely called off?" fWhip asked a bit curious. Could it mean... no.

"Well, I can't talk about Grimlands law by by our law... I'm technically engaged to you now," Scott giggled. "I wonder what your advisors would say about that since it was technically agreed first."

fWhip was a bit shocked and pretty sure his council would be more than happy to have him marry Scott instead. They always told him to be nice to Scott in case Rivendell ever wanted to rejoin the Alliance. And if they saw those letters and whatever Scott has on the engagement... They would be overjoyed. And Sausage would be happy to not have to stand next to fWhip on any official occasions.

"I think they would be interested. They like you more than Sausage..." fWhip chuckled.

"Meaning I can go by tomorrow to ask them for your hand by the elven law?" Scott grinned.

"Sure, my council should not have issues with an impromptu meeting... I'm pretty sure they already figured out where I run off to escape having to hang out with Sausage," he shrugged and patted Scott's back when the elf yawned. "Should we move you to bed?" he offered and Scott nodded, clinging closer so fWhip carried him to the royal bedroom.

By the time he reached his huge and filled about a third of the way with fluffy pillows and warm blankets, Scott was pretty much too asleep to change on his own so fWhip helped him and tucked him in. "Stay with me?" the elf asked, barely still awake, weakly pulling at fWhip's sleeve. "Just a little longer?" he added and fWhip sighed. There was no way he could say no to Scott's pretty eyes.

"I always stay a bit after you fall asleep," he smiled and sat at the edge of the bed. "Now get your sleep snowflake, tomorrow's gonna be busy," he added while gently petting Scott's hair. "I'll see you at my mansion," he hummed as Scott slowly drifted to sleep.

He stayed by Scott's side, watching his calm slumber with some envy before he decided it was time to face his council. Likely waiting for him. Already informed he ran away from Sausage's party. Very displeased even if it was Sausage that insulted him... he really hoped the prospect of a close alliance with Rivendell would get them excited.

#empires smp #empiresshipping #empires fwhip #empires scott #scwhip #golden husbands

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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 9 months

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Santa Paws

Criminal Minds Garvez WC 1,587 of Christmas fluff

Friday, December 22nd

Petsupply

Penelope and Luke looked on adoringly as Roxy posed for her picture with Santa Paws, bone shaped snowflakes hanging all around and a red and white dog house-workshop in the background.

Somehow he’d let her convince him to leave his apartment and go shopping on a rare day off, three days before Christmas, in light snow and DC traffic. This trip also happened to see him agreeing to donning matching green and red Nissehue hats while shopping, and pet portraits with the jolly old elf- something he’d absolutely never do on his own, but somehow didn’t have the heart to turn down where Penelope was involved.

She nudged him with her elbow, still beaming at the dog, but inclined her head talking softly, “Now you can have copies made and send out New Years cards for your family. I know even though you had gifts shipped, we’ve had so many cases you didn’t have time to write cards and update your family on your exciting life here in DC.”

Luke chuckled at the jab to his personal life, looking down at her, but a pang struck knowing he didn’t have much new to share with anyone this year, certainly not the thing his mother hadn’t stopped asking about since he’d admitted to he and Lisa calling it quits so long ago…How Penelope was this involved, this close, this caring…and yet, still insisted they were only friends… He didn’t care to explain he would take her companionship in any way she deemed worthy to bestow, that it filled a space until “his person” eventually did come along…He knew how she’d react, he didn’t need that.

Luke, lost in a maze of thoughts, was startled out of it as the elf pet-handler returning Roxy cooed, “What a beautiful little family you have! Are you sure you don’t want one with the three of you?”

Quickly, Luke responded, “Oh, hah, no, thank you. Ah,” he looked to Penelope, hoping the assumption hadn’t made her uncomfortable, “we’re not together, we’re friends. But thank you.”

Thank you for assuming the woman I’m in love with loves me too.

Thank you for stating we outwardly look like a couple.

“Oh, well, the picture can be picked up around the corner, and you can have them made into cards at the kiosk if you want. Some people like to do that,” the elf offered as she handed the leash back to him.

Luke just gave a small, polite smile and nodded his thanks again before placing his hand on Penelope’s back, turning in the direction the worker had indicated.

Errands run and cards made, he couldn’t help but notice how off she was on the drive back to his place, how quiet she’d been ever since leaving the shopping center… She’d turned down hot chocolate at that fancy new french cafe and hummed noncommittally at all of his attempted conversations. Thinking back on it, he realized she hadn’t said a word since leaving the pet store. Penelope Garcia: Silent Human was not a side he’d ever seen from her. Frankly it was not a side he was liking. Chancing a glance from the icy road, taking in her strange expression, he thought he’d push his luck.

He’d felt her bite so many times over the years her lashes were more like a gumming at this point, and better that than this- “Penelope…everything okay?” He knew the holidays tended to be hard for people who lacked family nearby, maybe all the festivities and sad ‘home for Christmas’ songs had stirred things up. But Penelope, for all her attachment to the team, never really seemed particularly bothered by the distance between her brothers and herself…still, maybe she was thinking about her parents? The Morgans? Any number of past victims and their families, or her support group members. When he thought about it, the things that could upset someone who dealt with what they did were endless…He couldn’t blame her if all the commercial joy and nostalgia had suddenly put her in a funk.

Penelope looked at him thoughtfully, brow pinched, a dismissive quip primed, but then impulsively, rapidly, it poured out, “Why did you say that? I mean- I know why, we’re not- it’s just-” she frowned, stopping herself, “Never mind.”

“No. Wait. Hold up, it’s something I said? Why did I say what?” His head bounced back and forth from road to face trying for clues. He’d made some jokes while they were out shopping, and he’d made a face at the faux fur coat she playfully held up for the Black Queen, but it was all in fun- Somehow she’d shrunk, Penelope small, voice smaller, shying from the shame, but she’d opened the gate, and there was no going back, “The elf. She said we were acute family and you told her- we’re friends.”

His head snapped back again, confusion evident. “Penelope, we are friends. As much as you may like to deny it publicly, if we’re out getting pet portraits together, there’s no other way to explain it.” Why would she be upset he politely corrected someone? What did it matter? It’s not like this person knew either of them, there was no pretense to keep up over fake-hating him.

Detecting a conversation he’d need to give his full attention to, Luke pulled over to the side of the highway, decelerating, then putting the SUV into park. But at the vehicle’s halt, that same impulsivity that seemed to possess her mere seconds ago saw Penelope rapidly lunging across the center consul, hands snatching at the lapels of his wool coat, leveraging herself closer, steady, belt straining against her as her lips crashed into his, Luke only just turning to face her, taken off guard. Their mouths met in a rapid, electrifying mash of teeth and lips, skin to skin, scraping stubble, supple flesh -and concluded in a halting gasp as she froze, pulling away.

“Oh. Oh god. And now I’ve done that. That is not what I meant, and I know, I’m sorry…I know I have no right to be upset about the friends thing, we are friends. I’m sorry. I know, what I just did was not a friends thing it didn’t feel- are you- I know we decided there was nothing here-” she was faltering and floundering watching his shocked face, Luke processing what she’d just done, what it could mean, not what he hoped it meant or felt it meant, but really, in the context of Penelope meant, he needed to know where to go from here. “-nothing between us and we’re just frenemies -or friends, and I’m sorry,” she continued, “I’ve just, I’ve been thinking, the truth is, lately…Luke, theres no one else that’s felt more like family…that I’ve felt like a family with…than you. The two of you.”

Her hands still on his lapels, shook them, gripping as she forced out the untimely confession, eyes pleading, every part of her pleading he understand…he was her friend, but he’d become more than that…she hadn’t realized it until some stranger thrust it at them, but now she couldn’t shake it, and she couldn’t deny it and worse yet she didn’t want to, and she hoped…he didn’t either…

His eyes flickered over every millimeter of her face, taking in all of her at close range, was she really suggesting? Everything she’d said was true for him too, the five of them becoming this little family unit…something he was happy to indulge in, but softly softly, knowing his partner hadn’t felt the same way, until apparently she did.

Luke twisted in his seat, angling towards her, his hands flexing, releasing the death grip he’d unwittingly been inflicting on the steering wheel, then softly, softly, he brought one to gently cup the back of her shoulder, the other, combing over ear and through hair to guide her towards him. He hadn’t said a word back yet, but lips parted, he continued to watch her, gauging her reaction as he inched closer, fingers tightening, a breath a part, her mouth dropped open in response, quietly he confessed, breath to breath, “Family to family, I’d like to try that again-” and with that his lips fell on hers, or her’s descended on his, he wasn’t sure which, though it didn’t really matter as the result was the same, soft, but powerful, respectful, but demanding, Luke kissed her breathless, kissed her endless, kissed her until she broke away with a shuddering ragged breath.

Hands still locked on each other, embrace intact, he sunk into her eyes warm as tea, “Still think there’s nothing here?”

Her head shook briefly, gaze locked on his own before a quiet smile twitched into place, “Not a chance-”

Darting in, he snatched her lips to his, brief, sensual, then, hand cupping her cheek, parting, he smiled down at her, “Who knew Santa Paws was granting wishes early”

Penelope grinned up at him, hands slipping under his coat and up his chest, Luke silly, Luke happy, Luke, comfortable, like home. “We should go back and get that family portrait, thank him.”

His skin burned under her touch, Luke on fire in the drivers seat, Penelope finally his, “We’ll send him a card- right now there’s nothing I want to do less than sit on Santa’s lap” and with that he put the truck in drive, taking them home as quickly as conditions would allow.

#criminal minds fan fiction #garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #christmas fluff #snails tales #ao3 #criminal minds

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bikerfromthevoid · 1 year

Text

Drabble: Divination

Vynnie had been looking forward to the Occult Faire for a couple weeks. There had been some spooky happenings in his home that he had been throwing the entire book at to reduce. An occult faire sounded perfect for having some of the things he'd need, maybe advice if it seemed that hopeless to him. But, more than witchcraft protection, he was looking forward to this faire cause of his date. Since the day he'd met the metal singer at his venue, he'd been absolutely twitterpated with the man. It felt impossible to keep up his suave, cool demeanor when it came to Lynx. That didn't mean he wouldn't try. So he put on a nice high-collared leather jacket, his best cologne, and took an extra ten minutes to make sure his hair was perfect. And the date started off great, right up until their first booth. Moon divination! The Light and Void didn't play well together, but he had never considered the Moon. It was the night elf woman, Mirri, running the booth. So was this Elune's divination? Did She even do that? He realized how clueless he was to night elf culture and beliefs, but he was no less curious when the cards were laid before him. He tried not to think too hard about which one to pick and lifted up the 6th card in a lineup of nine. "Ah, the Waning Twelve card. Along that path lays the steps of Medicine. Calm stillness abides. After a time of chaos and pain there comes a time of rest and healing. Tender from damage inflicted and reminders of what was lost. Gain strength and clarity from healing quiet and inner reflection. Rejuvenate your spirit and come out stronger than before." It was overall positive, sure. A large portion of people would scoff at this and tell him that it's all just generalized to seem relevant. But no. This hit him a little bit too close to home. What hadn't his people lost. What damage had not been inflicted upon him from the Scourge, from his exile, his time in Revendreth. It's felt like one hit after another, and he was not one to sit down and process. Quiet inner reflection? That time was spent quieting voices in his head. He knew that his reaction would be plain on his face, and he couldn't let his time with Lynx be- Ah, Lynx. He turned to watch him select his card, and the man was absolutely beaming with excitement. A new job, new friends, and this handsome elf next to him. He'd been just living life moment to moment, preparing for when the good luck ran out and the next big trauma arrived to be dealt with. But in reality, it wasn't. His 'calm stillness' was here, and it wasn't going anywhere. He put on a smile, and resolved in that moment, that his healing was happening, and there was no shame in it. He'd take the punches as they came, but they would not distract him from the joy he'd been experiencing. For the rest of their night, he was shortly unburdened from the Void, and the expectations of his position, and the dread of work. But he couldn't forget to stock up on protection spells from these witches! ((A quick little drabble based on a reading from @siennablaze219 and mention for @talthorn-sylvoran 's Lynx! Thank you both for the RP!))

#drabble #wow rp #void elf #divination

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the-traveling-rock · 1 year

Text

There is nothing more confusing or deranged than a newly formed group of adventurers confronted with the delusion of choice. They crowd the bounty board of the Phandalin, hands reach, fingers pointing, voices rise with intensity and excitement as other voices go louder to be heard themselves. I hear tell of goblins, bandits, and even a dragon or two. You know the standard missives. I’m not saying a dragon is boring but I feel the difference between an epic and an adventure is the people taking part.

I scan over the crowd to see a group I can follow, essentially I look for people who know what they're doing.The smallest of them, a female elf, is waving their hand above their head, weakly I might add. Her other hand is cupped to her mouth asking who in the group can heal, dejected as it seems this isn’t the first time I’d intuit. The first group I heard of, I began making my way over as I see the male elf behind her taps her shoulder and I see him bend to whisper in her ear. I see several emotions flash through her face as eyes widen, cheeks flush as crossed hands rise to cover their mouth, before they look downwards. I hear the uncertainty of their response as she says that she’s new but supposes she could heal.

I hate to play stereotypes but I like when I can tell what a book is when I look at it. I look at a book with a picture of lovers in embrace, that’s a romance. I see a magnifying glass and bloody knife, that’s a mystery. A picture of food, probably a cookbook. This gets more complicated with people.

It’s not even 8 minutes since we arrived before the elf rogue mentions his tragic past. There's a whole dramatic pantomime full of momentary anger, sadness, and extolling vengeance for his murdered lineage. In my opinion it appears so canned and rehearsed, but this actually is a story I hear so often that I wonder how there are elves at all. As I mused to myself, the emotion falls from his face as he looks the druid over and demands what circle she’s in. The druid meekly reiterates that she’s new but doesn’t know as she gets interrupted with his self assuredness telling her she should be Circle of the Moon. These are obvious red flags but I’ve already started writing and they're the first group that seems to be coming together the fastest as I see others turning to join the conversation.

Another elf, also a rogue, their clan murdered. Again, the same story as everyone else, but female elf. The difference is this one talks with no emotions when talking through their tragedy. I think about how I’m a half-elf but with the remarkable luck to suffer an approximate zero familicides, but I suppose one is too many. I grew up in a Neverwinter orphanage, at any rate, maybe my parents were murdered. Things just happen though, and maybe we don’t need to be so dour about it.

There’s this incredibly well dressed human man who balances that out by being incredibly hung over. We’re talking hands on knees, bent over, breathing hard and heaving. It’s super weird to see but I swear to all the Gods, he jumps up flashing the brightest smile beginning to play a song on his lute. His voice is majestic and charming as he belts out this amazing improved bardic beat that I actually think I can save this article, that I’m catching on isn’t a success.

It starts off incredibly strong with a lovely string line with a creative use of hand drum place on the ground he hits when needed. It is a wonderful start with simple lyrics that requires nothing to recall. It is the perfect song that the dragonkin who run the bard industry could sell to pop perfection.

𝄞𝅘𝅥𝅯 Money, money, money!

Must be funny!

In the rich man's world!𝅘𝅥𝅯𝄞

To be clear, I inferred the last word because it was that moment the bard would projectile vomit on the male rogue when he turned his head. I’m in the middle of a metaphorical cadaver cartpile up. This is literally the worst group I’ve seen and this is my start. This is the hell the universe gave me, for thinking I could have an idea. The bard wipes his mouth off on his sleeve while the rogue seethes shaking vomit off. Then it happens.

The bard looks at all of them, registering the looks of disgust and awkward feelings of what happened. Opening his mouth he sings that which destroys my will as I resign myself to the realization that torture is no longer an option for me.

“Same time next week?”

Shockingly, they all shrug and agree. Hopefully, they’ll do more than just talk about themselves next time.

Phandalin, Late Spring

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lilyofthesword-writes · 4 years

Text

Rain

Request by: @creeping156tin

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 1,422

Warnings/Disclaimers: Starts off sounding a bit angsty but turns fluffy about midway through.

A/N: First request! Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Whoever glorified adventuring was not being one hundred percent accurate. It had its moments - a cool breeze under the warm sun, the moonlight cascading through a canopy of tree leaves, a quick skirmish to spice things up... But others are rarely mentioned. It was one of those instances you found yourself in right now. As much as you enjoyed your newfound companionship in the Fellowship, the brooding thunderstorm overhead was enough to squelch the mood for anyone.

Aragorn, like the rain, refused to let up, wanting to cover as much ground as possible during the day. They had yet to reach the Path of Caradhras to cross over the Misty Mountains. The sooner you all could reach Mordor to destroy the Ring, the better. That was about the only thing keeping the misery of tangled hair and soaked, mucky shoes at bay.

You barely took notice of the shift in light indicating the setting sun, the dark clouds shielding out most of the light to begin with. Far at the head of the group, Legolas jogged up to Aragorn and halted him with a hand on his shoulder. They spoke low, almost frantically, as they waited for the rest of the Fellowship to catch up. Furrowing your brows, you picked up your pace to keep up. Were they arguing? Legolas glanced behind them, worry lines etched on his forehead upon catching your confused gaze.

Shaking his head with a huff, Aragorn spoke up for everyone to hear him, “There is a cave up ahead. We shall rest there for the night.”

The sigh of relief was unanimous with the Hobbits being the most vocal about it. Well, it was mostly Merry and Pippin.

“It’s about time!” Merry started.

“My feet are so muddy, it makes me wish hobbits wore shoes,” Pippin complained, kicking his feet as he walked in an effort to remove the excess muck.

You swiped at some of the hair the rain plastered to your forehead with a laugh. “And to think I was just wishing I did not need shoes. These are absolutely drenched!” You teased.

Despite the torrential downpour, the cave was nice and dry. Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas went off to search for wood while the rest of you prepared for camp. After helping set up the three’s bedrolls for them, you snuck off to a hidden alcove at the back of the cave to quickly change into dry clothes.

There wasn’t much luck finding dry wood for the fire, but Gandalf made up for that with the help of his staff. Sam started cooking over the fire while everyone else huddled close to it for warmth, clothing strewn about nearby in hopes they would be dry by morning.

Dinner would still be a ways off, so you took the time you had to fix your hair to some extent. Undoing the braids, you carefully combed your fingers through the strands to rid them of the knots and tangles caused by the wretched rain. A small hiss of pain made its way to your ears, Legolas as its origin. Seems he had the same idea as you though he certainly had more difficulty with it.

Even elves could not fully combat the natural elements. His nearly white golden locks, normally plaited and draping past his shoulders without a thread out of place, were tangled and beginning to frizz, though not nearly as terrible as yours. His nose adorably scrunched upwards with every snag he ran into. Of course you wanted to help the elf who you had been fancying since you met him in Rivendell. You plucked yourself up from your spot and quietly sat next to the elf prince.

“You sound like you are having trouble. Would you like help?” you said trying to keep your voice light.

Legolas stilled a moment before huffing and running through another set of tangles. “I am, yes. I would much appreciate your assistance,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper, cheeks dusted pink.

You nodded with a reassuring smile as you moved to kneel behind him to be at the right height. Gently pulling his hair behind his shoulders, you started working through the ends. As you made your way higher in his blonde locks, you couldn’t help but notice how soft it was despite the recent harsh rain and general outdoor exposure. The closer you were to the roots, the silkier the threads became.

“Is this alright?” You wanted to be sure you were not hurting him.

All you received was a nod. Legolas had peacefully closed his eyes and was leaning into your touch.

You were rather surprised at how much you enjoyed combing someone else’s hair, even going so far as to tenderly run your nails across his scalp as you untangled the remainder of his tresses, eliciting a quiet yet content sigh from him. If only you could keep doing this. Pulling back, you sat on your heels in contemplation.

A small part of you realized this was the closest you had ever been to the elf. You usually kept quiet and towards the rear of the troupe, preferring to watch from afar, content with the friendship you currently held.

“Would you like me to braid it for you like you had before?” You tried to hide the hopeful tinge seeping out of your voice.

“Please.” He looked over his shoulder, the corners of his mouth tugged slightly upwards.

You carded your finger through one section of hair and picked up a small part to begin the first braid. Taking your time, you delicately weaved the strands together with the utmost care to replicate the style he had before the storm. To your disappointment, it did not take long to complete no matter how slowly you moved.

Before you could pull away to say you were finished, Legolas swiveled around to take your hand in his. The elf’s sky blue eyes held a candied innocence as he brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Thank you,” he spoke his words just as softly.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You had surely not expected that much of a response. “You-you’re welcome. I’m happy to help.”

Across the other side of the fire, Merry and Pippin could be heard as snickered whispers. They kept looking up at the two of you with mirthful eyes as they nudged Frodo for his attention. He merely smiled and shook his head. Boromir was pointedly looking away like he was on watch. Gandalf was definitely smiling as he smoked his pipe, and Aragorn hid his tiny smirk behind a fake grimace while sharpening his blade. Sam was the only one who was genuinely immersed in his own deed of cooking a stew large enough to feed everyone. To be honest, you had been so focused on Legolas, you forgot about the others.

Legolas mutely cleared his throat, his ears now tinged red as he made the same observations. “Mele-Mellon nin,” he corrected himself before continuing shyly, “Would you like for me to help with your hair?”

This was happening. This was actually happening. You swallowed to keep your pounding heart from leaping out of your throat. “Y-yes, please. That would be nice.”

You shuffled forward closer to the fire as he situated himself behind you, settling on his knees with you in between. He started just as you had, starting with the ends and slowly gliding up to your roots. His fingers tenderly massaged your scalp before taking up some of your locks to plait. You now understood his bliss from earlier as it flowed through your relaxing muscles. This needed to happen more often, not just on an adventure.

Legolas finished interlacing your hair in a flash, his fingers much more adept to the craft despite elven tresses being much easier to work with. Swinging around, he replanted himself next to you.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” you smiled softly at him.

His lips mirrored yours. “It was a pleasure.” He placed a hand over yours and sucked in a breath. “Mellon nin, you are freezing!”

He squeezed your digits before letting go to wrap an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. You were a little confused by his sudden actions. You didn’t feel that cold, but he was definitely warmer by comparison, so who were you to complain. Resting your head on his shoulder, you felt more at peace than you ever had. Maybe the storm wasn’t so bad after all.

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas #legolas imagine #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #request #fellowship #fellowship of the ring #Aragorn #Gandalf #Boromir #Frodo #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #merry #pippin

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retvenkos · 4 years

Text

sprinting through cobblestone streets |

The Dragon Prince - Callum, Rayla, and Ezra, x Platonic!Reader, slight fluff requested by @biqherosix

tw: a mob, feelings of inadequacy

word count: 2.3k

prompt: “have you always been this idiotic?”

A/N: alright, so i know the request just said callum,,,, and i was going for that originally,,,, but then this happened. i hope you don’t mind? i was going to rewrite it but then it was 2k words and i couldn’t part with it.

Summary: Being half-elf, half-human, there was nowhere that (Y/n) truly belonged. But perhaps their luck would change, when they run into a group of idiotic travelers about to be run down by an angry mob...

Being half-elf in the Human Kingdoms was risky living. (Y/n) had been born on the human side of the Breach, and yet, every day was a danger - a possibility that fear would threaten their very existence. (Y/n) had known very early on how to live as an outsider; they knew how to hide their more telling attributes and how to stay away from towns. They lived in secret, away from everyone else and only stopping into town when necessity called for it, but there was always a low level of risk, to their existence. Not a day passed where (Y/n) wasn't constantly looking over their shoulder; there were always on edge, even in the comfort of their own home.

(Y/n) had been to Xadia once, when their elven parent begged their Queen to take mercy on (Y/n), for they were just a child and a victim to their parent's whims. It wasn't their choice to be half anything - all they had ever wanted was a place to be whole. The Lux Aureans turned them away, and before (Y/n) could return home, they tried to run away.

They had foolishly thought that other elves would take them in - that perhaps Xadia was a more just place than their family had feared.

They had made it far, but not far enough.

(Y/n) was brought back to the Human Kingdoms with their hood pulled over their head to hide their pointed ears. In Lux Aurea, it had been a horror that they did not have any horns. Here, in this place they would learn to call home, it was a blessing that there was less of them to hide.

(Y/n) had learned long ago to make no friends, to keep their head down and work hard, praying that perhaps, one day, they would be allowed into Lux Aurea as something other than the child of a traitor.

One day, (Y/n)'s parents had woken them in the middle of the night, pressing coin into their hand and telling them that it happened - they had been found, and they had to split up. They had kissed (Y/n) on their forehead, and it was the last they had seen of a friendly face for a year.

(Y/n) had run, only settling down to create roots when they had made it to Katolis - far from where each parent would be. They were careful, in this strange, new kingdom, settling in the thick of a wood where men rarely traveled, preferring to stick to the wider roads. For months, they lived without incident, only visiting villages for supplies twice - walking for days at a time so they weren't seen in the same place twice, and not coming from the same direction.

When supplies were running low once more, (Y/n) took the last of their coin and headed toward a new village - one further away, where no one would know their face. It had been a week's walk, but the burn in their thighs would be worth the protection. They slipped in amongst the crowd easily enough - the day was cold, the seasons changing to something with more of a bite and everyone had a thick cloak on, most of them with a hood pulled up, barely above the eyes. (Y/n) had found a villager to barter with easily enough, and it was when they had almost secured a reasonable deal that they heard the shouts that plagued their worst nightmares.

"You're an elf!"

Their blood ran cold.

(Y/n) had spun on their heel faster than lightning, their hand flying to the dagger they kept strapped to their side. Their heart was pounding with enough force to knock out any attacker they came up against, and despite the fear that struck their heart, (Y/n) kept a cool head. In a crowded marketplace like this, it wouldn't be long until innocent farmers became an angry mob, their ranks full of pitchforks and butcher knives. They expected to worst to greet them, but when (Y/n) turned, the horde of villagers wasn't looking at them at all, but three other travelers, one of which was unmistakably an elf.

"An elf? No way!" One of the travelers - a young boy with messy brown hair, chuckled nervously, projecting his voice in an almost comedic way, trying to wave off the villagers as the group slowly backed up, edging themselves towards the mouth of the street, where they might find a chance of escaping. "We're all very much human, here..."

(Y/n) slipped their bag of coin into their pocket, ducking and weaving through the crowd to edge their way closer to the ostracised group. If (Y/n) could find an outlet, maybe they could sneak off and save their own skin. But if they could create a distraction of some sort and pull the elf and her friends to safety, maybe they could be given some type of reward...

A reward that might earn them a place in Xadia.

"My human friend is wearing an elven costume! Y'know, for... a play?"

(Y/n) sighed at the lame excuse before pushing over a street cart.

The villagers were startled, caught off guard by the loud crash and apparent destruction, and it was just enough time for (Y/n) to rush forward, seizing the elf's arm and dragging her forward out of the crowd. The boys followed in suit, and together they got a head start, sprinting through the cobblestone streets.

"Hey!"

The villagers got their bearings quick enough and were only more enraged by the idea of a chase. (Y/n) took a sharp turn down the narrow street that they had originally entered into town from, ushering the group forth. A hay cart stood in the middle of the street, and (Y/n) picked up the young boy that held a glow toad by the back of his jacket to help him vault over the obstacle. The other boy from earlier - the one with the terrible excuse, jumped over with a fair amount of success - the adrenaline mixed with some quick thinking leading him to step on boxes nearby like makeshift steps, making the jump easier to handle. The elf jumped over with remarkable agility and (Y/n) followed in suit, the sudden movement pushing their cloak back, revealing their best-kept secret - their elven shaped ears.

(Y/n) cursed but didn't have time to scramble for the hood, instead choosing to press forth, leading their new allies into the woods, where they had just enough time to find a hiding place from the mob, the hay cart having been the perfect barrier.

Only half of the villagers passed by their hideout, judging by the cacophony of footfalls and heavy breathing, accompanied by the gruff voice of one villager, who decided to round everyone up and wait by the main road - they would have to get out, somehow.

The group had managed to stay exceptionally still, while their pursuers cleared out of the wood, but (Y/n) could feel three pairs of eyes watching them, their level of scrutiny unsettling.

When all was quiet, (Y/n) dared to venture forth, and they found the woods uninhabited. The three that (Y/n) had saved were slower to exit their hiding spot, and when they did, they turned on (Y/n) quickly - the elf already whipping out her swords.

"Who are you?"

"You mean other than your savior?" (Y/n) said, putting their hand on the hilt of their dagger - just in case.

"What are you, then?" The elf took a step forward, her accent punctuating her every word. "You're not human, but you're not elf either."

"I'm both."

And the revelation was just enough to stun the elf, allowing the idiotic boy from earlier to step up. "Well, thank you for your help back there. Right, Rayla?" —he shot a glance at the elf and she pushed her lips together, clearly still on edge— "I'm Callum and this is Ezran with Bait. And you are...?"

"(Y/n)." They crossed their arms against their chest, narrowing their eyes.

"(Y/n)," Callum repeated, nodding his head slowly as he shot wayward glances back at his friends, who were still assessing the situation. Ezran peered up at (Y/n) with a trepidatious kind of respect while Rayla still held her swords out, her brow furrowed, mirroring (Y/n).

"What were you doing in a human village, (Y/n)?" Rayla all but spat, tightening her grip.

"Apparently being smarter than you - have you always been this idiotic?" (Y/n) turned to look at Callum and he reeled backward, offended. "Going into a village market with an elf is a death sentence! You could have been caught."

"You went in there!"

"Because I had to! You are a human traveling with an elf - you could have easily gone without her."

Callum blinked, tilting his head to the side. Little Ezran walked up, tugging on his brother's sleeve. "(Y/n) has a point, y'know."

"Yeah, well, we just didn't think of it," Callum mumbled, earning a scoff from (Y/n), which elicited a glare from Rayla. "But in our defense, things were going smoothly until I tripped and pushed Rayla's hood back."

(Y/n) chuckled darkly, rolling their eyes, and Rayla took the opportunity to press forth. "What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be in Xadia?"

(Y/n) took a step closer, as though daring Rayla to make a move. "Shouldn't you?"

"Whoa!" Callum stepped between the two, gingerly pushing them apart. "Shouldn't we all be?"

(Y/n) shot him a suspicious look - one that they had been saddled with their whole life. It felt odd, almost, giving it to someone else. "Why would you be heading to Xadia? Why are you traveling with an elf, anyway?"

Callum chuckled nervously again, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and pointing at (Y/n) with the other. "I mean, no better place than Xadia - right? The magic, the elves, the dragons..."

"Callum doesn't know what he's talking about," Rayla recovered, but there was a slight shake to her voice - a tell. "He's taking me to the Moonshadow Path - we're friends. He's not coming with me. Humans don't belong in Xadia."

But Callum winced at that, and Ezran looked down, his feelings hurt. If Rayla noticed, she found no point in disputing her statement, choosing instead to press forth.

"Do you?"

And (Y/n) thought of why they had saved this group of idiots in the first place... in the hopes that they would get the recognition needed to belong in Xadia. For a couple of humans, a glow toad, and a Moonshadow elf, they seemed pretty intent on making it to the magical world beyond the Breach. Whatever their reason, it must have been good, seeing as they banded together, despite the hatred that ran between their races. (Y/n)'s immediate reaction was to leave and never look back - face the consequences of saving these odd travelers and find a new village to buy grain from, continuing to live the way they always had - but they couldn't. For a reason that was beyond what (Y/n) had always thought to be true, a feeling that went beyond their mantra to make no friends and keep their head down, they felt the urge to stay.

Ignoring the voice in their head that screamed at them to not make such a stupid mistake, (Y/n) lifted their hand and pushed away Rayla's sword with the tip of their gloved finger.

"I don't belong anywhere. But I hoped that by saving you, maybe I could."

Ezran took a sympathetic step forward, coming out from behind his friends, and looking (Y/n) deep in the eye. There was something in his gaze that made (Y/n) feel like he understood them, despite their lives being so different. Callum put a hand on the younger boy's shoulder and (Y/n) noticed it was in his eyes, too. They turned to Rayla, and she looked away, but there was a fury in her eyes - a familiar wave of anger that had to be righteously earned from being cast out, from being an outsider in a place that should have been home.

Suddenly, it dawned on (Y/n) that this ragtag group of wanderers didn't belong anywhere, at least, not anymore, and were walking to Xadia with a hope that (Y/n) had lost long ago.

"You can belong with us if you want," Ezran spoke up, and his words seemed to have the conviction of one twice his age, as though he had been born to royalty. (Y/n) entertained the idea as they considered his words. He certainly held the air of a royal, and he had nice enough clothes to be in the nobility.

"Ezran." Rayla fixed him with a look, one that implied they had secrets to keep.

"They saved our lives, Rayla, we can't just leave them."

The elf hesitated, but Callum stepped forward, a bit of suspicion still swimming in his eyes, but something more hidden beneath. "What Ez means to say is that you can journey with us if you want."

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure Rayla isn't going to kill me when my back is turned?"

"Not if you don't give me a reason to," Rayla said, and Callum turned to her with a poignant stare.

"We need all the help we can get, Rayla. We need to be safe if we're going to make it back to Xadia"

"Do you trust them with our cargo?"

(Y/n) cocked their head, and Rayla looked at them with a harsh glance. Callum sighed. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

"Alright, then," Rayla sighed, taking a step forward and extending her hand. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment before pulling off their glove, exposing their lack of a fifth finger, and clasping it with hers.

"You'll take me to Xadia?"

And Callum was the one to answer, shaking (Y/n)'s other hand with his own. "You can walk with us as long as you'd like."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

#the dragon prince #tdp #callum #callum tdp #ezran tdp #rayla tdp #rayla #ezran #callum x reader #rayla x reader #reader insert #platonic reader #one shot #imagine #tdp imagine #the dragon prince imagine #fluff #the idiot squad is here but is short one (1) member which is soren. he just steals the braincells #i blame this on seeing a headcanon set about a half-human half-elf character and craving angst backstories

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sevlgi · 4 years

Text

would it be so bad

requested: yes

group: twice

pairing: tzuyu x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: hogwarts!au, quidditch player!tzuyu, rivals!au. [23/33]

warnings: none

synopsis: You’ve never exactly been the bright kind, at least not when it comes to love. Would it be so bad to realize your feelings for your partner in crime, though?

a/n: i decided to make the reader’s house ambiguous lol but i hope you enjoy! (also i realize that this isn’t british english, please excuse my idiot american english). i was originally gonna post this tomorrow in time for “cry for me”, but i realized that i should be respectful to jonghyun, and i will not be posting tomorrow ❤

word count: 5.3k

“Tzuyu Chou and Y/N Y/L/N. Why is it that whenever something happens, it is always you two?”

The Slytherin standing beside you in McGonagall’s office stood as impassive as ever, no emotion to be found in her blank expression or her perfect posture. Perhaps that was a thing that Snape taught to his favorite students-- the ability to wipe any guilt or liability off your face in an instant, to stay steadfast in any situation.

Or maybe that was just Tzuyu’s own charm, you noted as you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, turning slightly so that you could view her side profile in your peripheral vision. Merlin’s balls, she’s gorgeous, you sighed to yourself, unable to take your eyes off the girl who had been your rival since before birth.

Instantly, you regretted it. “Y/L/N! Have something to say to Ms. Chou?” the professor snapped, the book she threw to the desk making a sharp cracking noise as you faced her again with your fingers knotted behind your back.

“No, ma’am,” you answered, moving your hand to zip your lips shut. Despite McGonagall’s exasperated sigh, a smile quirked at the corner of her lips; she’d always been kinder than she expressed on the outside, and that seemed to be no exception when it came to you.

“You do realize that you can’t get away with decimating the Quidditch pitch, do you?” The witch sat sternly at her desk, a quill scribbling on parchment of its own accord beside her. “It’ll cost thousands of Galleons to repair, and it may not even be possible to do so before the season begins. The two of you collapsed it!”

Tzuyu spoke for the first time since being called into the Headmaster’s office, her eyes still trained on the wall next to McGonagall’s head. “If I may. I believe I did more damage.”

“That is not a thing to be proud of!” Standing, the woman clenched her fists tightly and you smiled at the affect the two of you were able to have on her. No one had seemed to infuriate her quite so much since James Potter; even the Weasley twins were overshadowed as soon as you and Tzuyu sat on the Sorting Hat’s stool. “I realize that you may think you’re carrying on your families’ legacies, or that you’re gaining fame for your antics, but you will not pass your 6th year if you keep this up. I will make sure of it personally.”

“Understood, Headmaster,” you bowed. Your voice was still noticeably singsong-y, and McGonagall bristled at the tone, but she said nothing as Tzuyu followed your lead in dipping her head. “Won’t happen again.”

Had it been any of the other teachers, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been allowed to leave without a year’s detention, but the Headmaster merely pursed her lips and waved her office door open. “Very well. I expect to see you in Transfiguration tomorrow and not caving in the North Tower.”

And as soon as the (not-so) imposing wooden doors slammed shut behind the two of you, Tzuyu raised an eyebrow. “Did you mean it when you said it wouldn’t happen again?”

“Of course not,” you grinned in response, relaxing into a comfortable slouch again. “I just meant we wouldn’t collapse the Quidditch Pitch again. It’s too boring to do the same thing twice.”

She scoffed and followed as you swayed down the hallway, her voice a bit too quiet to echo off the stone walls like yours did. “Of course. And what exactly do you have next, Y/L/N? You won’t be able to one-up my Hogsmeade stunt, I’ll have you know. My parents taught me well.”

“Your parents were nowhere close to mine,” you sniffed, stopping to wave at Fred Weasley’s portrait on the wall. He wasn’t inside, of course, probably off to bother someone, but you liked seeing the heaps of unused pranks piled underneath the frame as offerings. “Which means that you’ll never get on my level either.”

Tzuyu easily caught up to you with her long legs, the slightly-too-short Slytherin robe swishing about her ankles. But no matter how much she annoyed you, the wintery sunlight shined brilliantly on the planes of her face, pooling in the dark color of her eyes. There was that kind of beauty to her that instantly told you she was a Slytherin, a kind of untouchable coldness that didn’t match the warmth hidden inside her heart. “Tell that to the amount of detention I’ve been forced to do,” she protested. “I had hours last week, while you--”

“Never seen a Slytherin so eager to serve detention.” Fred had returned, leaning on an empty portrait’s wall with a familiar smirk on his face. “Y/L/N, Tzuyu. Any mischief to let me in on?”

“McGonagall nabbed us for wrecking the Quidditch Pitch,” Tzuyu rushed to explain before you, a hint of pride sparking in her eyes when she beat you to the punch. “It’s collapsed. And all my doing.”

“Your-” You shoved her, hands colliding with her arm slightly harder than you meant to. But you didn’t bother to apologize, declaring, “I’ll have you know that I did more. I collapsed two of the bleachers, for Merlin’s sake!”

Fred watched the exchange with amusement, egging you on when Tzuyu glared at you. “Go on, pick a fight. You’re right outside old Flitwick’s classroom, though. I’m sure he won’t be too happy for the resident couple of troublemakers to interrupt lecturing first years on Charms.”

“We aren’t a couple,” Tzuyu blurted, stepping back from where she’d been inches away from your throat with her wand. You stared at her in confusion; when had Fred mentioned the two of you to be dating? “Just-- I don’t even like her.”

There was an all-knowing smile on the portrait’s face that you didn’t like, an expression that must’ve been passed on to his nephews as well judging by how often you saw it. “I know. Didn’t even mention that, really.”

“Yeah, Tzuyu, the hell?” When she avoided your gaze, you sighed and grabbed her arm, ignoring how she attempted to pull away at first. “Well, good seeing you, Fred. I’ll let you know how the next attempt goes.”

“Good luck!” he called out as you left. “She’s a stubborn one.”

You stopped at one of the arches leading out to the courtyard, your back to the students idly roaming. Tzuyu still avoided your gaze, crossing her arms and running her thumb over the engravings on her wand. “Hey. What was that about, Chou?”

She hesitated to answer even with her lips parted, and the bell that rang loudly in your ears served as her excuse. “Well, you heard it. Time for potions, don’t want to fail out.”

She walked off, ignoring the group of 4th year boys staring at her with parchment scrolls crumpled in their hands. But your brow was knitted as you stared at her retreating silhouette, and at the way that she walked too fast to notice Dahyun and Chaeyoung raising their hands to wave at her. “Since when have you cared about that?”

Mina and Chaeyoung were disgustingly adorable at the dining table, but you were grateful enough for their company that you didn’t really care. “Maybe we should get Tzuyu’s ears checked,” Mina chuckled as she took a bite of the cake that her girlfriend fed her. “It’s not unlike Fred to say those things, but it is unlike her to take it so seriously.”

“Right? I didn’t think he was insinuating us to be a couple at all,” you frowned, digging into the treacle tart that you’d been picking at for the past hour. To be honest, you weren’t all that hungry, your mind only fixated on your friend/rival. “Do you think something else is going on?”

Chaeyoung shrugged, lips jutting out in a pout as she thought. “If it was anyone else, I’d think she was shaken up from being lectured by McGonagall. But it’s you two, so I doubt it. Double Troublemakers, aren’t you?”

“Double Troublemakers,” you snickered. “Jeongyeon really didn’t know what she was doing, coming up with that name first year.”

Jeongyeon herself, passing by on Nayeon’s arm, shouted out in protest and threw a balled-up handkerchief at your head. “Watch out, Y/N, I’m not scared of you and your pranks.”

“You should be,” you shouted back, incinerating the ball with a simple spell. “Tzuyu’s not going to protect you from me!”

“Hey, hey, speaking of Tzuyu, shouldn’t you be helping her with a potion right now?” Mina mentioned, tapping your arm. “I think you promised to help her at half past seven, and it’s already eight.”

Your eyes widened to the size of a house elf’s, and you scrambled up. “Oh, bloody hell. Thanks for the reminder, she’s going to be pissed.”

Chaeyoung commented offhandedly, “I don’t think she’ll be too pissed off at you.” But you didn’t pay too much mind, rushing out into the icy hallway and leaving your half-finished dessert behind with your friends. You cursed yourself for not bringing your scarf to dinner as you rushed to the Potions wing; for whatever reason, Snape insisted on charming that specific tower to be at the level of the Arctic Ocean. Tzuyu never seemed to mind, but it wasn’t comfortable when you only had your house robes to protect you from the chill.

The door banged into the stone wall unflatteringly, but the Slytherin girl didn’t even bother to look up from her cauldron. “Tzuyu, I’m so sorry--”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” she sighed, flashing you a quick smile as she snapped her book shut. “Just gave me some more time to memorize the potion.”

As you rounded the corner of the huge table, you peered at the array of ingredients laid out. Potions had never been your strong suit-- you’d usually been too busy pranking Jihyo than listening-- and you had no clue what you were supposed to be making whatsoever. “Uh. How am I supposed to help you if I don’t have a recipe?”

Tzuyu raised her eyebrow slightly at you, tying her hair up loosely and motioning for you to do the same as she lit a flame under the cauldron. “Just do what I tell you. It’s not difficult. Besides, I’m going to be working with Dahyun on this, I need to practice how to give directions.”

“Are you jabbing at my Potions skills, Chou?” you rolled your eyes, taking off your cloak. Despite the chill of the potions wing, the other girl had evidently cast a spell that made it boiling hot in the classroom, leaving you in a normal sweater embroidered with the crest of your house.

She didn’t answer, handing you a plant to cut open inside. “By the way. You aren’t wearing any perfume, are you?” Tzuyu asked suddenly, avoiding your gaze as she ground pearl dust even finer in a stone mortar. “It distracts me, don’t look at me like that.”

“You being close enough to smell my perfume is out of the ordinary,” you snorted in response, sprinkling the peppermint into the boiling water. “But no. I’m not wearing any.”

The thing about working with Tzuyu was that everything usually ended up in silence. Not uncomfortable silence, but the kind that made you focus on the way that the candles cast a warm light onto the wooden tables, and the kind that made you notice the smell of the opened potion books. As the girl stirred in more and more ingredients, though, and as colored steam rose from the cauldron, the musty scent of parchment and tinny metal was replaced with--

A clatter sounded as Tzuyu shoved the cauldron over, the potion fizzing when it met the table. You could only stare as your hard work spilled out of the pewter cauldron rolling on the table, but the other girl spoke before you. “O-oh. I’m sorry, I think you should go. I can clean this up myself.”

“I... are you sure? I can help,” you offered, reaching for your robes nonetheless.

“I’m fine. Go.” Her voice was strange, like she wanted to say something to you but was holding it in, but you didn’t comment on it. Despite everything the two of you had been through together, you realized that you didn’t really have a right to ask more out of the girl; you didn’t know her outside of bickering, after all.

When you closed the classroom door softly behind you, though, you realized that you could still smell the potion’s aftermath in a cloud around you. Kerosene, like the kind you used to blow up the stadium a week ago, bitter chocolate, and the faintest hint of the house elves’ kitchen when you snuck in to steal Tzuyu’s favorite bread.

It was the kind of familiar that made you miss it while it was still here, like a ghost that you couldn’t grasp and hold close to your heart in the way that you desperately wished you could. And it made you stare at the closed door of the classroom, listen closer to the sound of Tzuyu mopping up the spilled potion by hand even though she didn’t have to.

It was weird, that’s what it was.

Momo and Nayeon clutched onto each other as you shined the light of your wand into the dark. Tzuyu was just behind you with her own wand held overhead; you were pretty sure that you could see Sana clutching onto the Slytherin’s arm and cowering behind the tallest girl of the group. “Are... are you sure that this is a good idea?” Jihyo asked, her voice uncharacteristically small.

“Ah, come on. It’s one of the Marauders’ abandoned tunnels, who knows what we could find?” you persuaded, turning back to grin at them. When no one reciprocated, you switched to a pout instead. “Rude.”

“We’ll split like this.” Tzuyu waved her wand between the eight remaining girls, parting them like the red sea into two groups. “Nayeon and Momo, you split, you’re too scared to be in one group together. Y/N and I will go together.”

Dahyun wiggled her eyebrows at that. “Ooh. Together, huh? Just the two of you?”

Even in the darkness of the tunnel, you could see Tzuyu’s cheeks flush brightly. She stabbed her wand in front of her in an attempt to shine the light away from her face, muttering out, “Let’s go.”

You waved goodbye at your friends, being tugged forward by the Slytherin girl and nearly tripping over the tree roots winding through the tunnel. “H-hey, why’re you walking so fast? Trying to kill me, Chou?”

“If I killed you, there wouldn’t be any fun in prank wars.” She glanced back at you, eyes straying to the map that you had clutched in your hand. “Where’d you get that, by the way?”

“Fred,” you answered, waving the scroll around. It was stained, of course, with the pumpkin juice that Sana had spilled on you that morning, and with the ink that you had smeared when copying down the Weasley’s overly complicated instructions. “He said that something in here’s going to help us with whatever we plan to do next.”

Tzuyu frowned at you slightly, still pushing aside cobwebs and vines to forge further down the tunnel. “Did you tell him about the rig we’re going to set up for McGonagall?”

You shrugged and peered down at a cockroach skittering over the dirty ground. “Of course not. Fred may be a legend, but legends don’t get treated any differently when it comes to knowledge about Double Trouble’s plans.”

“I hate that name.” Tzuyu stepped through another archway into a tiny cave, a rough stone throne with a button on the armchair the only thing inside. She flicked her eyes over, nodding her head at the chair. “This it?”

You lunged forward, pressing down on the button before you could have any regrets. “Only one way to know.”

And-- nothing happened whatsoever. Your partner in crime stood there with crossed arms, the backs of her calves almost hitting the stone of the throne. “What’s supposed to happ--”

A strong gust of wind, stronger than anything you’d ever felt before, punched all the breath out of you and sent you flying, the force of your body knocking Tzuyu onto the chair. To prevent injury, your hands flew out in front of you and pressed into the crumbly dirt wall on either side of Tzuyu’s head, your knees probably bruising with how hard they hit the stone.

When you opened your eyes, previously squeezed shut, you found yourself sitting on the lap of the Slytherin girl, her hands hovering on either side of your waist and your foreheads almost pressed together. She looked somewhat shocked, eyes wide and her breath shivering on your lips.

Before you could apologize and scramble off, though, you were interrupted by someone coughing at the entrance. “Dahyun’s right, apparently.”

You leaped off of Tzuyu’s lap faster than you could’ve thought possible, heat burning at your ears when you found Jeongyeon and Nayeon smirking at the entrance at the cave. “S-so. Uh. You found anything?” you questioned, attempting not to look directly at either of them.

“Nah,” Jeongyeon answered after a pause, apparently feeling merciful. “I think Fred was messing with you.”

“Damn,” you breathed out, adjusting the collar of your sweater to be perfectly straight. All of a sudden, it was too warm underground, and the heavy robe you wore was pulling you down into the ground. Maybe that last part was wishful thinking. “Let’s go, then. I’ll go get Momo’s group,” you volunteered, brushing past your friends into the tunnels again.

Tzuyu didn’t follow, thankfully, because you didn’t need anything else confusing your senses with the smell of kerosene, chocolate, and sourdough bread wafting past your nose already.

“GO MOMO!”

You cheered louder than anyone else in the bleachers, maybe except for Jihyo, who was practically hanging off the railing as she waved a banner for your Hufflepuff friends.

Chaeyoung laughed, her nose bright red in the winter chill. Sana and Momo waved at you and all her friends as they strolled out with the rest of her team, hands gloved and what seemed to be 3 scarves wrapped around both of their necks. But you were holding in the loudest cheer of all for when the Slytherin team descended to the pitch, and you raised your voice even more when Tzuyu appeared with her broom in her hand.

Unlike Jihyo, she looked nervous, face drawn tight as she stopped with the rest of her team on the grass. She only wore her usual green robes, wisps of caramel brown hair fluttering about her face, but she was more stunning than anyone else in the entirety of Hogwarts. “CHOU TZUYU, YOU KICK THEIR ASSES!”

She looked up in surprise at your shout, a small smile coming onto her face when she spotted you clustered among your friends, all dressed in contrasting house colors but cheering for the same people. You only waved harder when she stared at you, almost hitting Jihyo in the face when you swung both arms in opposite directions.

And when the game started, it was just as chaotic as it ever was to be sitting on the bleachers. Jihyo, who played for Gryffindor, and Chaeyoung for the Ravenclaw team, were thankfully undivided this time, merely screaming their friends’ names instead of houses. Usually, you were next to someone much quieter in their support, a certain Slytherin who was dominating the field instead.

“And Tzuyu scores! Brilliant Chaser, this one, and gorgeous, too, if Y/L/N would just take the hint!” Felix shouted out at the announcer’s podium, his usually growling voice higher pitched to be heard over the crowd’s shouts.

No one seemed to hear him, not even your friends as they thrusted the Slytherin banner up in the air and whooped. You and Tzuyu both stopped in your tracks, staring blankly at the tiny blonde dot that was Lee Felix. For the Chaser, though, it turned out to be much more dangerous, as a Bludger hit by a Hufflepuff Beater slammed into her right below her right arm.

Everything went silent, a dolphin-like tone ringing in your ears as you watched Tzuyu plummet down to the ground. With the way her hair streamed in the wind, you’d think she was floating, but you were cruelly brought back to reality when she hit the ground like a bag of loose bones, a sharp whistle from Madam Hooch making time move normally again.

“Tzuyu,” you gasped, stumbling back into Dahyun, who didn’t complain. “Tz--”

“Three fractured ribs, along with a completely shattered wrist. Can someone tell me what she was looking at?”

Your nails tightened on the skin of your palms as you stared at the wrinkled bedsheet underneath Tzuyu’s good hand, your foot tapping relentlessly against the tile of the hospital wing. Perhaps Jihyo and Mina, talking quietly with Madam Pomfrey, didn’t think you could hear them talk, but every word of theirs echoed unfortunately loudly in the otherwise empty wing. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Tzuyu, or at the violent purple bruises all along her right side, or at her frail and newly healed wrist cradled to her chest as she slept.

“I’m sorry, Madam Pomfrey. Sana... Sana and I asked Felix to say it as a joke, we didn’t think that Tzuyu would be so surprised,” Jihyo sighed. “And we didn’t think that Steelman would take advantage and hit her so hard.”

Pomfrey was quiet for a second, and the jagged tip of your nails nearly ripped your skin as you waited for one of them to speak. “I see. Well, I do believe you had good intentions, all of you. I will be speaking with Ms. Steelman about her actions, but Quidditch is tough sometimes. Please, refrain from asking Mr. Lee to play such jokes from now on.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mina joined you first, her hand a comforting weight on your shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Y/N.”

“Who said I was blaming myself?” you laughed listlessly, shaking your head. “Who am I kidding? I am blaming myself. Because it’s my fault. It isn’t Felix’s for playing an innocent joke, and it isn’t Jihyo and Sana’s--”

Jihyo shook her head as she knelt near you, her head obstructing the view of Tzuyu’s sleep-peaceful expression. “Y/N, please. You couldn’t have gotten there on time. It’s none of our faults, okay? Besides, we shouldn’t... we shouldn’t have rushed you on this.”

“What?” you blinked up at your friends. “Rushed me?”

They exchanged looks, Mina closing her mouth when the Gryffindor girl shook her head in warning. “I think it’s best for you to find it out on your own time. Because you will,” Jihyo smiled. “I have faith in you, Y/N. Now, don’t stay here too late, Pomfrey will take care of Tzuyu just fine.”

“Seriously,” Mina warned as she retreated, the sympathy in her eyes the last thing that you wanted to see. “Sleep early!”

You raised a hand in farewell, sighing and leaning back in your chair once they were gone. Your friends meant well, of course, and you genuinely didn’t blame anyone for the incident, but you couldn’t help but think about what you could’ve done to save Tzuyu. There must’ve been some spell, some prank mechanism that would’ve done something...

And just like that, hours passed. The sky had begun to turn back to cloudy blue-grey from the black of the night by the time you found your head drooping onto your arms; you had draped one of the blankets that Pomfrey left behind over your own shoulders, your hair loose and splaying out at the foot of the bed when your friend woke up. “Y/N?”

Blinking blearily, you found Tzuyu staring blankly at you. “Why’re you still here? It’s almost dawn.”

There should have only been one answer at the tip of your tongue-- “I was worried” or “I couldn’t leave you alone” or something normal-- but instead, you found answers to questions that you didn’t remember asking just begging to be let out.

Because the potion that you had made all those weeks ago was Amortentia, and it smelled like the kerosene that you used in so many prank wars with Tzuyu, and the bitter chocolate she tried to convince you to like. It smelled like the bread that you stole from the house elves to cheer her up, and it smelled like the vanilla hand lotion that you bought for her on Valentine’s day in 3rd year.

And she asked you whether you were wearing perfume because she wanted to know if Amortentia smelled like you for her, and Tzuyu must’ve knocked the cauldron over because it did. Because--

“You love me.”

You didn’t expect the jolt that shook the entire hospital bed, the Slytherin girl jerking back like you had burned her with your words. “I... what?” Her eyes darted back and forth as she bit down on her lip, almost scrambling back as your eyes began to shine with a revelation that turned your entire world upside down. “Y/N, what’re you talking about?”

Her fists were ice cold in your hands, her expression unrelenting as you attempted to persuade her to admit the truth that should’ve made sense all along. “Your Amortentia smelled like me, didn’t it? Because mine smelled like kerosene, and... and bread, and everything you like. And you reacted so intensely when Fred called us a couple because you like me,” you breathed with the biggest grin of your life on your face. “No, because you love me.”

Tzuyu shook her head and snatched her hands out of your grasp, clutching the bedsheets closer to her chest as if that would protect her from you or something. “You aren’t making sense right now, Y/N. I.. I want you to leave. Before you confuse me further.”

You stared at her for a good twenty seconds, at the girl who was avoiding your eyes like you had told her you’d murdered her mother. “Wh-what?”

“I want you to leave.” The Chaser’s voice sounded steady, but it wasn’t confident in the way that you knew it to be. There was something lying underneath that made her voice that of a stranger to you, and you obeyed it as you stood.

“Okay.”

Not another word slipped from your lips as you made your way out of the Hospital Wing, standing on the balcony of a silent castle with blankets still wrapped around your shoulders.

That definitely wasn’t how you expected anything to go.

For nearly a week, you spent your free blocks alone, poring mindlessly over all your books by the Great Lake. Nothing you read actually stuck in your mind, though, the words floating before your eyes in hurricanes of black ink. No matter how much Chaeyoung or Momo attempted to convince you, you wouldn’t go back to the hospital wing; instead, you asked Mina for updates, probably the only one of your friends who you knew wouldn’t pressure you to talk to Tzuyu.

Groaning, you collapsed down onto the grass, flicking your quill away from you. It wasn’t fun devising pranks and coming up with plans to rig the Headmaster’s office without her, and there was no real lure in winning when there was no one to win against. Instead of thinking about the water that you wanted to splatter down on McGonagall, you could only think about how to apologize to your friend, how to take back a truth that you weren’t sure you could forget yourself.

But with the way that she responded, could it mean that you were right? Was it possible that Tzuyu really loved you, and you... you really loved her back?

“Y/N?”

Your head jerked to look at the source of your voice, a crack sounding when you turned too fast. “Ow,” you mumbled, raising your hand up to cup the back of your neck. However, you were completely fixated on the slightly paler-looking girl, standing just a few feet away from you. “Uh. Hey?”

“Hey,” she smiled. So she’s not angry. Tzuyu wasn’t wearing her characteristic expensive robes for once, dressed instead in a pretty skirt that was too cold for the lakeside and a black coat slung over her shoulders. “You didn’t come to visit me.”

Shrugging, you reached over and cleared your books away for her to sit. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she frowned, plopping down beside you and crossing her legs. “You’re my friend.”

“Friend, huh?” You chuckled listlessly, leaning back with your arms supporting you. The surface of the Great Lake rippled softly, and you wondered whether there really was a squid inside that could drag you away from the awkwardness sitting between the two of you. “That’s it?”

Tzuyu laid her hand over yours, her skin cold from the spring weather. She almost looked like she pitied you even though she was the one fresh out of the hospital wing, and you hated that expression on her. “What do you mean? Should there be something else?”

If you were slightly less impulsive, you wouldn’t be scrambling to your feet, crossing you arms to stare in disbelief at the beautiful girl sitting cross-legged mere feet away from the Whomping Willow. “Are you serious? Tzuyu, are you just going to ignore everything we-- everything I said that night?”

She stood as well, her hands still reaching out for yours and her eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N, I wasn’t going to ignore it, I just don’t know how to talk about it. That.”

You scoffed, jerking away from her grasp. Some part of you thanked Merlin that you were alone, because you didn’t know if you wanted your friends witnessing anything that you knew was about to go down. “That. Answer me something, Chou. Would it be so bad to be with me? To admit that... that you love me. And I love you back?”

Tzuyu froze, her hands faltering in midair. “You love me back?”

“Of course I do!” And suddenly, you were rushing forward to meet her again, eyes pleading for her to understand how genuine you were being. “I meant it when I said so, and Amortentia doesn’t lie. Tell me, what did your potion smell like?”

She stammered out, “B- burning books. From the time we set the library on fire, and the stupid perfume you wear. Ink, because you refuse to use the pens that Jeongyeon bought you, and--”

You still paused a second before connecting your lips, giving Tzuyu time to back out, but she might’ve moved even faster than you so that her hands were wrapped around your waist. She tasted like chocolate and bread, too, and you smiled into the kiss when you realized that she probably stole from the kitchen before coming to find you.

The long, winding roots of some tree tripped you over, your back colliding with the grassy ground with a loud thump, but you didn’t care as the Slytherin girl landed right on top of you. “To-- to answer your question. It wouldn’t be bad at all, to be with you,” Tzuyu laughed breathily, her smile so much brighter than you ever remembered it to be. “I love you, Y/N.”

And instead of responding, you pulled her in again, lips moving against hers for maybe a minute before you were surprised by a bug that Tzuyu held up against your face. “Chou Tzuyu, you devil!”

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

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Game Master Akuma AU by crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

#submission

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