#sorry this is so sappy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morgana-ren · 8 months

Note

i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)

First part of the story HERE

Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!

"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"

He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--

"My love, I just need you to--"

"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."

"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"

"My lord?"

Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.

She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.

"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"

Her blood smells of rot and she--

She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.

"I won't!"

Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—

—his soul?

The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--

And suddenly he is in a chair.

Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

"What in the hells—"

His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.

"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"

The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.

"I-- What was that?"

He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.

"No-- No, that cannot be it!"

"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."

He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.

"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"

"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"

"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"

Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.

"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"

"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."

He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.

"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"

She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"

But the woman simply shakes her head.

"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."

His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.

"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."

"And what of what she feels?"

His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.

"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"

"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"

"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."

They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.

"I-- I need to know she will be safe."

Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."

He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."

"Then you may yet see this through."

He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--

"The coin first, boy."

He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.

"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."

"Me too, Little Star."

He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.

"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.

"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.

"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.

"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.

"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.

He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.

Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--

She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--

And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.

"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"

"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.

"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.

"And?"

"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."

"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."

"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"

"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."

"And what do you think?"

"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."

#morgana and friends #astarion #astarion spoilers #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #heh that last one messed yall up huh #heres a fix for it #SUPER sappy FYI #SO ENJOY!#I don't usually write sap (or angst) so I am bad at this #sorry its bad fellas #I GENUINELY could not think of a way for him to fix him becoming her cazador so uh #have a retconn #call this a fast fixer upper lmao

2K notes · View notes

carissime · 7 months

Text

Literally no thoughts just Gojo after your wedding carrying you over the threshold of your hotel room. You’re not leaving for your honeymoon until the morning but he nearly trips on the doorframe in his haste.

“You really don’t need to carry me—”

“But it’s tradition, we need to consummate the marriage!” he insists. Within seconds his lips are against yours and he’s fumbling with the light switch, and you finally swat his hand away and just beg him to take you to the bed.

He works the zipper of your dress down, part of him sad that he’s not going to see you in this gorgeous gown again, but then it reveals your white lace lingerie and the groan he lets out is broken and guttural and desperate.

This is far from the first time he’s seen you like this, but there’s something about this moment here and now that makes it so much more intense, so much more intimate and he just never wants to let you go.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and his breath hitches.

He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. “Shh, I know. Just lemme take care of you, like I promised.”

And when he sees the gold band on his fourth finger pressing into the skin of your hips as he sheaths himself inside of you, he nearly loses himself, sending up a prayer to whatever gods are listening that he can keep his promise to keep you safe and happy forever.

2K notes · View notes

vampiresfromxenon · 7 months

Text

I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!!

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy.

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you.

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love.

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical.

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations.

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep.

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads.

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side.

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you.

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?”

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space.

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep.

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know.

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

“I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice.

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks.

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds.

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-”

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you.

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him.

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery.

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel.

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more.

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy.

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes.

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again.

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do.

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words.

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise.

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you.

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.”

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips.

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat.

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing.

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you.

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest.

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe.

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :)

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

2K notes · View notes

mellowthorn · 2 months

Text

Family cuddle

#rote #realm of the elderlings #my art #rote fanart #fitzloved #fitzchivalry farseer #the fool #beloved #bee farseer #assassin's fate #assassin's fate spoilers #fitz and the fool trilogy #fitz and the fool spoilers #rote spoilers #art #illustration #Today it's been exactly one year since I posted my very first rote fanart! So this is something of a redo of that same idea.#That fanart was the first thing I drew after years of not even touching a pen and honestly I was a nervous wreck when I posted it.#But as it turned out. the people in this fandom are incredibly nice and welcoming. so thank you all for always giving me the motivation #to keep practicing and drawing/painting these amazing characters <3 #(and sorry for writing a sappy novel in my tags lol)#anyway i will forever be thinking about AUs where these three get to be an actual family. they deserve it

488 notes · View notes

nevarroes · 3 months

Text

cas shaped body pillow

#you dont get it his waist has to be that tiny so Gortash can put his legs around him ok😖#art tag #art #gortcas #casim carnarvon #im done w the sappy mood now sorry . sorry i just needed to get this out of my system

645 notes · View notes

pizzaqueen · 5 months

Text

A snippet from a future fic I'll probably never write, where Steve is a widower with two teenage kids, and he and Eddie randomly meet up, rekindling their old flame. This is when they've been together a while:

“Thank you,” Steve says, coming up behind Eddie at the bathroom sink.

Eddie pauses, catching Steve's eye in the mirror. “What for?” he asks, mouth foamy with toothpaste.

Steve slips his hands along Eddie's hips, hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder. “For loving my kids.”

“You don't—” Toothpaste dribbles down Eddie's chin and he stoops to spit what's left in his mouth into the sink, gathering his hair to one side. He rinses his mouth out, wipes his face with a towel, then turns to Steve. “You don't have to thank me for that. Of course I love them.”

“Not everyone I've dated has.”

“They're idiots.” Eddie grabs the hem of Steve's shirt, pulling him close. “I mean, first of all, they're part of you, and I don't think I could love you and not love them. But...” He trails off, a small smile tilting his lips. “They're amazing kids.”

Pride swells in Steve's chest; he slides his arms around Eddie's waist and says, “They are.”

“And I'm pretty damn honored I get to be part of their lives,” Eddie says, “so thank you,” and he butts his head gently against Steve's.

Steve huffs and slides his hands up Eddie's back, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you.” He presses a kiss to Eddie's neck.

“I love you too.”

“And they both love you as well.”

Eddie lets out a shuddering breath. Steve knows how nervous Eddie was, when they started dating, that he wouldn't be welcomed, but it's almost like he's always been part of their family now. “Good to know,"”Eddie says.

Steve holds Eddie a little tighter. All those years ago, back in Hawkins, when they ended things, Steve thought he'd never see Eddie again. But here they are, together—a family—and Steve's never letting him go this time.

#Steddie #Steve x eddie #Steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #this is soooooo sappy I’m sorry 😫#anyway I don’t have names for Steve’s kids yet lol #but his son is bi too #his daughter is more like him otherwise though #also Steve takes a while to accept his sexuality so he’s only just come out to his kids because I like stories like that #even though I know some ppl in this fandom have found them offensive??#but yeah when he comes out his son gets upset because he then feels like he can’t come out without it being weird haha #and Steve is like what??? no??? when he eventually tells him #(I watched a lot of soap operas growing up :P sometimes it comes out in my writing lol)#that’s why I’ll probably never write this fic but it’s fun to dabble in the verse #pizzaqueenfic #pizzaqueenwrites #tsofverse

524 notes · View notes

mysicklove-main · 11 months

Text

“i like you.”

you pause, smiling to yourself. “I know, love, we are dating.”

“but i've never liked anyone this much," Rengoku says, pressing his lips onto the back of your hand. a kiss for each knuckle. he says that every inch of you deserves love, so often times you find him kissing your hands, your temples, your wrists.

it wasn’t like the two of you were doing something big to deserve this declaration of "love". you both were sitting crossed-kneed across each other and drinking warm tea. well, you were— he was staring at you, seeming to hang off every word you said.

but of course, he just got back from his week-long mission, he was always so doting the day after. it was cute seeing how affectionate he can be. he wanted to know exactly what you did the days he was away. he didn't want to miss anything important involving you.

when you set the tea down, he gently pulls you over to him, wrapping his body around yours and presses light kisses along your neck. “we should be wed.”

you softly smile as you always do. he has said this so many times, so you don’t even falter at it. “you know I would love to kyo.”

he sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulders. you can feel his body droop, the disappointed unhidden. “but I won’t risk you being a widow. it’s harder for a widow to find a husband”

his arms tighten around you, as if the mere idea makes him uncomfortable. he has come to terms to the fact that he could die any mission, but with you around everything feels so different. the thought of you being left alone haunts him.

“if something did happen to you, I wouldn’t take another,” you mumble leaning into his chest. it was true, you don't think you would recover if he ever did pass.

“i would want you to!”

you turn toward him with a raised eyebrow, before dragging your finger up his arm. "yeah? want me to lay in another mans arms?" you murmur, and press a kiss to his jaw, causing him to shiver. "kiss another man like this?", and begin to run your fingers down his body, "touch another man so sensually?"

he grips onto your hand before they reach their destination. his eyes peer into yours, and he has a soft pinkness to his cheeks. "marry me."

you slightly tilt your head to the side, a lazy smirk on your face. "and if i become a widow?"

he uses one hand to rub the back of your hand, and the other to lightly hold onto your neck. "nothing sounds worst than the thought of you with another. that alone will drive me to stay alive."

you grin at him. "mhmm, I do like the idea."

he brings his face closer toward yours, his forehead almost touching yours. "marry me."

"i am forever yours, Kyojuro."

he presses his lips to yours for a moment, and pulls away, the tips of his ears now burning. "I really like you."

"yeah? funny, because I really like you too."

2K notes · View notes

poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months

Text

Redraw of my first post on this blog. Oh how far we've come B'*)

#better drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #Credit where it's due: the first one is from November 2022. So its been a bit longer than the post date implies.#It was always part of the plan to re-draw my first wangxian art at the end of each season #but wow I really didn't give enough credit to the power of drawing every day for the last half a year #I've really loved doing this B*) I have found so much confidence in accepting the fact I'm not a 'non-artist' drawing mdzs comics #I'm a REAL artist drawing mdzs #and this is just the start!!!! I will keep drawing and improving and learning! and I will have a big smile like this every time -> B*)#I'm stunned that so many people found this blog so early on. Despite the roughness of my art...yall saw what I struggled to see #which was someone who was worth it #That and how art really is what you decide it is. I thought It had to be perfect. It doesn't need to be perfect. I see that now #I love you all so much! I am so much happier than I have been in years!#Sorry for being sappy twice in a row I promise tomorrow I'll be your little jester again

1K notes · View notes

strangersmunsons · 6 months

Text

you're not feeling your best. Eddie gives you some much needed comfort. eddie munson x fem!reader, ~800 words

“Hey, Eddie?”

Your soft voice breaks the comfortable silence hanging over the bedroom, where you and Eddie have been curled up in each other’s arms since you finished making love some time ago.

“What’s up, baby?” He strokes a calloused hand up and down your back, tracing gentle patterns into the skin with his fingers in a way that makes you shiver. You press your body even closer to his.

He smells musky with sweat and drugstore cologne, and the faint whiff of tobacco that lingers from his post-sex cigarette. He tilts his head down to press a sweet kiss to your shoulder, and then another, and then another.

You hesitate, unsure if you want to break this spell of gentleness by voicing your insecurities. But then Eddie traces the furrow between your brows with a delicate finger, smoothing out the small crinkle. His face is expectant. Waiting.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He gives you a dopey half-smile, the really sleepy one that you love the most. “You just did, didn’t you?”

You try to grin back, but it comes out more like a grimace.

His smile fades, face lining with concern as he takes in your expression. You've apparently hidden your unease from him well tonight; he doesn't like it. He brings a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Of course you can,” he says soothingly, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

You sigh at his touch. “Don’t laugh,” you whisper, throat tightening.

“I would never, sweetheart,” he whispers back.

You stare up at him, eyes welling with tears. You shift uncomfortably in his arms, overwhelmed by the urge to suddenly run from the room.

“Hey.” Eddie gently pats your cheek, growing alarmed at how upset you look, but nonetheless staying calm for your sake. “Talk to me, angel.” He sits upright in bed, pulling you with him, so your tangled limbs are all gathered into his lap. He rocks you ever so slightly side to side, and curls one hand around the back of your neck so he can bring your forehead to his. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You don't want to tell him anymore, but you’re unable to hide from him like this. Your lip quivers uncontrollably. “Do you…do you think I’m pretty?” The words are wispy, barely there.

You might as well have taken a knife to Eddie’s heart. Shock flickers across his face before sinking into unbelievable sadness. He crushes you to him. “Of course I do. I think you’re so pretty, baby. I think you’re beautiful.” The words become muffled as he buries his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck. “Most beautiful girl in the world.”

That does it.

Fat tears spill over your bottom lashes, and you hug him back as hard as you can.

Eddie caresses and kisses every part of you he can reach. “Why’d you ask me that, huh? Did I do something to make you feel like you aren’t?” Every part of him aches at the thought of making you feel undesirable, accident or not.

You can only snuffle in reply at this point, too caught up in your tears to answer him coherently.

“Shhh,” he hushes you gently, rubbing your back. “Take a deep breath, baby. Try and relax for me, okay?”

He continues to coo sweet nothings in your ear while you let it all out, until you eventually come down from the crying jag. You slump against him, exhausted, waiting for the last few rogue sobs to finish wracking your body.

Eddie holds you all the while, and then tucks you away under his chin.

His voice is soft like velvet. “What happened to my girl today?” He resumes the gentle swaying from before, hoping the motion will soothe you. “What’s making you feel like this?”

“O-overheard…s-some people t-today…” you manage to stutter out.

Eddie’s jaw sets. Would you and he never escape the cruel judgment of others?

“They’re wrong,” he says firmly. “Don’t listen to them. Just listen to me, yeah?”

He jostles you lightly in his lap when you don’t answer. “I said, yeah?”

“Y-yes, Eddie.”

He softens again. “Good girl.” He dots a few more kisses onto your head. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. I thought you were the second I saw you. And then you turned out to be beautiful on the inside, too. Lucky me, huh?” Another kiss. “My beautiful girl. You’re my angel.”

Your voice is still watery, almost inaudible. “Thank you.”

He gives you a tight squeeze, still speaking in dulcet tones. “I’m happy to tell you that, because it’s true. I’ll tell you all the time now.” Kiss. “I think you need some sleep, sweetheart. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.”

He doesn’t let go of you for the entire night.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #sorry this is so sappy & gross i'm just in a mood ig #also sorry for using the term 'making love.' it was the only one that felt right #just really craving some soft sweet eddie rn 🥺

910 notes · View notes

bibibuck · 1 month

Text

i know that with the way things are going it makes sense for us to be focusing so much on the buddie of it all. but i want to bring some attention to the fact that tonight we’re watching 911’s 100th episode and that is just… so special.

how blessed we are to have a show that believes in people so much, that portrays human relationships so wonderfully and admits the complexities of them while always fighting to say, “it’s worth it. humanity is worth it. connection is worth it.”

and look, we all know that 911 is not a perfect show. and though we might agree or disagree on what its flaws are i think if we love 911 and consider it our show we all understand that at its core it’s a story about not just surviving but thriving in the world, about healing others and ourselves through empathy and hope.

#sorry for getting a little sappy it’s just that this show has given me so much and i am so grateful for it #and celebrating its 100th episode tonight is so beautiful <333 #911

280 notes · View notes

bulbabutt · 1 year

Text

self-care

i was bullied into giving you guys a leo hug after the last one

which is fair, my bad guys

#tmnt crossover #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt 87 #rise leo #87 leo #tmnt 1987 #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #my art #art #bulbasturtlesforever2 #this might be too sappy but i was just playing love like you over and over again #so thats the vibe sorry youre welcome goodbye lmao

2K notes · View notes

chilschuck · 17 days

Note

Not sure how to put this into words (again) but... Chilchuck with a very affectionate reader, one that's always wanting to hug him and hold his hand. Hopeless romantic falls in love with divorced man in his midlife???

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHH ANOTHER ADORABLE REQUEST FROM YOU ANON!!! i hope i did it justice!! i wrote this cozy in bed half asleep so it may be more sappy than usual…. Hshkshsjshksj. i hope you enjoy!! <333

— INTERTWINED: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, fluffy + sfw!!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 988. short but sweet!

✦ decided to give you a drabble instead of hcs this time, hope that’s okay!! this was super fun and i would love to elaborate more on the idea, hehe. <333

Physical touch was your love language, that much was clear. With the other party members, you found yourself patting their shoulder or back as you passed. Maybe even offering a hug here and there when you felt it was needed. Yet, with Chilchuck, you discovered your love language really stood out.

When he offered a hand to you to help with your balance, you would take it, giving it a light squeeze in return. Even when you were fine on your feet again, you still didn’t want to let go. You craved his touch so much that even in darker parts of the dungeon, you intertwined your fingers with his. The first time you did it, you could practically hear the sound of his head turning to give you a look. If he was uncomfortable with your touch, he didn’t verbalize it. Instead, he understood what you were seeking, and helped to give you a bit of that comfort.

Hand holding was easy to hide your true intent with, but you began craving even more. Your bravery would shine through when you’d feel his hand in yours long enough, and pretty soon you were setting up your bedroll beside his.

Chilchuck blinked, looking up from situating under his blanket to raise a brow towards you. “What are you doing?”

Biting back a laugh at his oblivious question, you decided to give a light grin instead. “Wanted to sleep beside you tonight. Heard you were warm.” That caused his face to heat up, as he fussed and grumbled about Izutsumi under his breath. Not able to hold back that laugh any longer, you giggled at his behavior before getting cozy in your own covers.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.” You spoke softly, reaching out a hand to rub his back for a moment. Your touch was soft, cautious, and full of a need to feel him under your palms. Instead of complaining about your affections, you noticed his eyes begin to grow heavy. Stifling a yawn, he ran his fingers through his hair before saying your name. “‘Night.”

You’d willingly call yourself a hopeless romantic. Enjoying the time you spent by his side and the small touches you managed to give, of course you’d begin to crave more. It was no longer enough just to give his hand an occasional squeeze or a reassuring pat on his shoulder. You noticed you’d often daydream about what it’d be like to hold him, and soon enough, you couldn’t take it anymore.

One night, the half-foot seemed to be lost in thought. He stared at his hands in his lap, tuning out any voices chatting around him. Except, of course, your own.

“Chilchuck?” You called in that sweet tune that always made an appearance when it came to him. “You okay? You seem preoccupied.”

Sitting beside him, you waited until he gave a reply in that tired tone you had grown used to. “Just thinking.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped an arm around him, pulling him gently to you. The hug was brief, but enough to knock him out of his stupor and widen his eyes. When you let him go, you made sure that every little detail of his chest pressed against yours would remain in your memory.

“You looked like you needed a hug.”

And he did. He always did when it came to you. It was strange, but he began waiting for your touches, your hands intertwining with his, your gentle caresses when he struggled to sleep. Chilchuck cleared his throat, trying once again to ignore the slight feeling of pink rising in his cheeks. “…Thanks.”

It was strange just how much you were doing to him. It was obvious what your intentions were, yet he couldn’t seem to make himself turn you down. He wondered, with a small smile, just what you’d pull him into next.

“You seem to let them do anything, huh?” Marcille questioned him one day, the two of them walking ahead of the rest of the party. Chilchuck gave a light scoff in response, his hands resting behind his head as they usually did. At least, when they weren’t intertwined with yours.

“That’s not true and you know it.” It was Marcille’s turn to make a sound, a huff of unconvinced laughter leaving her lips. Rolling her eyes, she thought about all she could throw in his face to tell him otherwise.

The constant hand holding, the sleeping next to each other, the soft hugs you would give him anytime you could. You’d even offer to rub his back for him to help him get sleepy again, something he was growing more and more tempted to accept. Counting on her fingers as she listed all the offenses, Chilchuck grew increasingly more embarrassed. He managed to somehow hide into his neckwarmer, before barking out, “Ok, ok, enough! Alright, I get it. No need to be a smartass.”

Marcille was definitely proud of herself, wondering just how much of this would end up like one of her romance novels. Maybe what he needed was someone much more romantic then he was, a foil to his cynical character.

She felt herself grin.

Chilchuck could deny it, but many things about you made him soft. Your smile, the way it crinkled your eyes, the way it lit up a room like some sort of magic. It was almost too much to bear, yet like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards it.

Maybe your hopeless romanticism was beginning to rub off on him or something. Especially, as he finally tucked himself in for the night next to you, he still longed for your affection. You had somehow managed to captivate a man who felt he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, seek love again. You proved him wrong on countless occasions, and even as he felt his eyes begin to succumb to sleep, your voice called him home.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <33

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #this turned out really sappy #hope you like it anon!!!!#sorry it’s so short ;;;#thought it’d be cute to end it there!!#chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader

225 notes · View notes