#w&w yawning grave

[write-and-wander]

Yawning Grave | Four: Decompose

Astarion x Ayzora (F!OC)

Description: Demands are still being made, and difficult decisions are beginning to surface. The pressure begins to wear away at the walls built and masks worn until vulnerability finally begins to show its face, and bold-faced lies shift to careful half-truths shift to unwilling confessions; as if the predicaments they face could wait.

Warnings: Panic attack scene | Word count: 5.3k

| One | Two | Three | Four | ...

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Time passes by.

Seconds turn to minutes as neither move.  Neither say a word.

Her skin feels softer than he first imagined.  Most bodies he touches are warm, reminding him of just how cold his own flesh can be in its undeath; but her hand is just as cool, and suddenly his condition isn’t so strange.  There is a callous on her palm, where Messorem has worn its mark over decades of use.  Her hand stills as nervousness subsides.

His hold is gentle, lacking every ounce of confidence he paraded; but it's firm.  Refusing to let go.

Honest.  The word lingers in her mind while the churning in her stomach rolls with the waves of scars on her skin.  In all of her life, Ayzora has never been so entrenched in a sense of fragility.  One misstep, one careless word, and this moment snuffs out like the trembling flame of a dying candle.

Astarion had hoped his usual tricks- the flirting, the performance, the sex- would work.  He had planned to make the necromancer fall in love, pledge loyalty to him, and promise him safety from Cazador- but he hadn’t expected it to happen like this, in which his prey pursues him in equal measure with reckless abandon.

The lie starts to feel less like a mask and more like a mirror by the minute.

He gives her a sidelong glance, before his eyes snap back to the crackling fire; yet his stare is distant.  Words swell and fade in his closed mouth, mulling over the cacophony of feelings that seize him- feelings he decides to swallow.

She settles into the moment.  Gently, slowly, her thumb begins to move back and forth, caressing the back of the vampire’s hand.

Strangely, he doesn’t flinch.  His stomach doesn’t turn in disgust.

Honest , she reminds herself.  But where would I even start?   Her lips part as her mouth barely opens, ready for words she is still trying to find.  “Star…” she whispers, turning to look at him.  

The blaze dances in his ruby eyes for a couple of hesitant seconds before he at last meets her gaze.  “Yes?”

Sand and grass crunch as the footsteps of other companions approach.

Ayzora turns and stands, quickly pulling her hand from Astarion’s grasp.

He almost wishes she hadn’t let go.

Karlach is the first to reach the center of camp.  “Hey, soldier!  You won’t believe what happened when-”  She freezes.

Ayzora gives Karlach an uncertain look, when she feels eyes on the back of her head.  She turns her chin towards her shoulder as a new figure comes into view: a man, appearing to be around middle-aged, with brown shoulder-length hair and a fine set of clothes.

“My, my,” his voice bellows with a confident air.

D’Urge and Shadowheart jog up to the rest of the group, wearily stopping in their tracks as they see the visitor.

“What manner of place is this?”  The man takes a look around at the camp, pausing briefly on each individual.  “A path to redemption, or a road to damnation?”

Astarion instinctually steps closer to Ayzora when the stranger’s eyes land on her, an eyebrow cocking up in amusement.  

“Hard to say,” the stranger continues, leaning towards the necromancer,  “for your journey is just beginning.”  He straightens, addressing the rest of the group.  “What would suit the occasion?  Hm…  The words to a lullaby, perhaps?”

D’Urge takes slow, careful steps forward, before firmly positioning himself between the man and the rest of the group.  Wyll stands close at his side, scowling.

“The mouse smiled brightly: it outfoxed the cat!  Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that.”  The stranger chuckles, looking to D’Urge.  “They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don’t they?”  His hands stretch to either side of him, bowing at the waist.  “Well met.  I am Raphael.”  He straightens.  “Very much at your service.”

“If you want to threaten me, don’t disguise it with pretty words,” D’Urge bites back.  Lae’zel’s arm rests on her blade, while Karlach's battle-ready blaze fires up.

“Why, I never!”  Raphael’s hand rests on his chest in shock, until a smirk grows on his face.  “You’re paranoid, aren’t you?  Must be the surroundings,” he reasons, taking another glance around.  “Rather bleak and lonesome.  One feels so… exposed.”  He pauses, as if thinking for a moment.  “This quaint little scene is decidedly too middle-of-nowhere for my tastes.”  He leans forward and purrs, “come.”

In a bright flash of light, the comfort of camp is gone, and Ayzora- along with everyone else- is transported yet again to an unfamiliar domain.

Swaying trees and colorful tents are suddenly replaced by elegant marble and immaculate gold trim.  Turning around, there is a giant table completely filled with all sorts of food, from fine wine, to fresh fruits, to warm bread, to roasted meats.  The opulent feast is the centerpiece of the grand hall they now find themselves in.  Facing Raphael again, a grand painting of a devilish figure, with crimson horns and outstretched red wings, is proudly displayed above a roaring fireplace, before which he stands.  Multiple chandeliers of gold hang overhead, with red and gold fabrics draped between.  Heat rises in the room, leaving everyone to begin to sweat- save for Karlach, who at last feels comfortable.  Raphael seems to be unfazed by the grueling temperature.

“There,” he proudly declares with a gesture, “middle-of-somewhere.”

“Could you be more specific?”  Wyll pipes up.

“The House of Hope.  Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed- lavishly.”  He gestures to the table.  “Go on.  Partake .  Enjoy your supper.  After all… it might just be your last.”

While a few glance at the piles of food, none dare to take anything.  Everyone’s eyes remain carefully trained on Raphael, with a few who are still prepared to fight at the first sign of trouble.

Ayzora’s eyes almost seem to glow in the dusk-like light, the golden rings around her pupils catching the light in an eerie contrast to her emerald irises.  No one has taken me to their domain with good intentions… I will not be made a pawn again.

“Easy, darling,” Astarion coos in her mind.

Ayzora flinches, glancing at the pale elf.  “Astarion,” She warns, displeased by his uninvited mental intrusion, “I have half a mind to starve you for a tenday.”

“You’re tense; and as much as I enjoy being a little knife-happy, I would advise caution at the moment.”

She glances down at her flexed hands, humming with the magic of a prepared spell.  Suppressing an eye roll, she forces them down to her sides.  “Fine.”  

“Are these theatrics leading somewhere?” D’Urge asks, seeing that no one has chosen to take Raphael up on his offer for food.

The man lets out a half-hearted laugh.  “Are you not entertained?  Well- far be it from me to disappoint.”  With a cocky grin, a blaze engulfs him.

The group jumps, taking a step back from the fire.

As the swirl of ash and flame fades, a devil stands tall before them.  Suddenly, the visage in the portrait is made flesh, with the same jagged horns and outstretched wings.  His scleras turn black as fiery orange irises regard the group.

“What’s better than a devil you don’t know?” Raphael asks, feigning thought as he raises a hand to his chin.  His hand lowers with a rumbling chuckle, “a devil you do.  Am I a friend?  Potentially.  An adversary?  Conceivably.  But a savior?  That’s for certain.”

“What makes you think we need saving?”  Ayzora retorts.

D’Urge holds his hand outward, silently asking her to stand down.

“Come now,” Raphael condescends.  “Why play hard to get when you’re in deep over your tadpoled head?”  He turns back to D’Urge, showing more interest in the informal leader of the group.  “One skull, two tenants, and no solution in sight.  I could fix it all,” he snaps, and a flame sparks from his fingertips for a moment, “like that.”

“You think I’ll make a deal with a devil?  Are you mad?”  D’Urge responds, his tone sharp and firm.  The rest of the group seems to ease for a moment.

“And what is madness but a denial of reality?”  Raphael tilts his head.  “Still,” he lifts a finger, as if warning the group, “I’ve a feeling you’ll change your mind.”  He leans forward.  “Before it’s changed for you…  Try to cure yourself,” he continues, waving a dismissive hand, “shop around- beg, borrow, and steal.”  His expression hardens with earnestness.  “Exhaust every possibility until none are left.  And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair- that’s when you’ll come knocking at my door.”  He straightens, looking off to some other point, “Hope,” he mutters to himself with a hardy laugh.  “Such a tease,” he adds, shaking his head.

“Take us back,” Wyll demands, “now.”

“And after that,” D’Urge continues, “I never want to see you again.”

“By all means,” Raphael says, raising his hands, “bite the hand that feeds you… while you still have teeth.”  He crosses his arms, with one hand gesturing, “all those pretty little symptoms- sundering skin, dissolving guts- they haven’t manifested yet, have they?  One might say you’re a paragon of luck.  I’ll be there when it runs out.”

In a flash, the room is gone just as fast as it appeared.

Ayzora crosses her arms over her stomach, holding herself silently while the group breaks out in frustrated conversation.  Glancing around, she locks eyes with Astarion, whose expression is one of incredulity.  Before he can speak, she turns on her heels, promptly heading for her tent.

“Now there’s a bloody devil after us?”  Astarion asks aloud with an incredulous laugh.  “This gets better and better,” he mumbles, following after Ayzora. 

Astarion stops in his tracks as she ducks into her tent, letting the flap close in his face.  Sympathizing with her apparent upset, he continues.  “‘Shop around,’ he said,” Astarion mocks with a grand gesture.  “He seems sure we won’t find anything.”

Upon hearing no response, he opens the tent flap.

Ayzora sits on the ground, her back facing him.  She hardly moves to acknowledge the vampire as he enters and sits beside her.

“And he might be right,” Astarion adds, his tone sobering.  “We’ve had no luck so far.”

Ayzora shakes her head while she stares at the base of the tent wall in front of her, “He’s playing with us, Astarion.”

“I’m aware,” he says through gritted teeth.  “Cazador liked to toy with people, too.  Let them think there was hope right until the end; until he snatched it all away.”  He leans back on his hands, crossing his legs at the ankle.  “Creatures like them don’t play games unless they know they can win.”

“Exactly.”  She rubs her temples, hiding her face in her palm.  “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This!   Being toyed with!  Being dragged from one realm to another by cocky assholes with a promise veiled in threats-”

“We keep hunting for answers,” Astarion interjects.

She gives him a look; a silent “really?”

“What other choice do we have?”  He exclaims, lifting his hands in defense.  “This is no ordinary mind flayer parasite.  Who tampered with it, and why?  What do they have planned for us?  And why are we important enough that a devil comes knocking on our door?  If we find those answers, we might have a chance.”

Ayzora concedes with a nod, wrapping her shaking hands around herself and falling silent.

Actually, her whole frame trembles, Astarion notices.

A beat of silence passes.  And another.  Concern- oddly enough- begins to settle in for him as he watches her, silent and curled up and shaking.

“Darling?”  He asks softly.

She won’t even take a breath- much less speak.  She shakes her head.

“Darling?” He tries again, probing into her mind.

It races with thoughts: fears about the three powerful figures who prod at her vulnerabilities, anger at Orcus for his ask, uncertainty of their ability to find a cure, hopelessness for her redemption, anxiousness about finding answers in time- it all swirls into a whirlwind that overwhelms the both of them.

Astarion abruptly disconnects from her mind, taking a moment to center himself.  And as he looks back up at Ayzora, again, he sees himself.  Alone, trembling, consoling himself in whatever corner he could find.

Alone was the key word.  Suddenly, he finds himself in the face of uncomfortable vulnerability and intimacy that can’t be masked with theatrics; and it feels like he shouldn’t be here.  He wouldn’t want to be seen in a state like this, it’s only fair that he gives her some space to breathe and collect herself.

He shifts, preparing to stand- but a hand raises in the air, silently asking him to stop, and he heeds.

“Please,” she chokes out, divulging the amount of energy needed just to take a breath in this state.

He settles back into place, far enough for a gap between them, but close enough to reach out.  His eyes dart around the tent as he fidgets with the fabric of one of her blankets, and feeling awkward in the heavy silence.  

Her body shakes in waves as her lungs still yet again and her hands clutch her sides.  Terror tells her that the horror she endured all that time ago is on the brink of flooding her again; and this time, Orcus won’t be the only culprit.  Two new figures, capable of gods-know-what, are suddenly vying for pieces of her she’d thought she reclaimed at last, and begging for total control over a glorified puppet.

But she isn’t alone anymore.  The silence, loud and cold and horrific, is still somewhat comforting when it's held in company; company that believes they might have a chance, despite the odds that continue to rise against them.

Gradually, Ayzora’s mind begins to slow and her body begins to still as she clings to the breath of a chance.

After all, a chance got her this far; perhaps it’s all she needs.

When she at last calms, Astarion seems to perk up.

“Better now, darling?” He asks.

She nods with a half-hearted smile, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“Good.  I’d hate to have Orcus set his sights on one of us as a replacement.”

She huffs- softly, as her lungs are still near-empty- and then it hits her.

She had been holding her breath this whole time; and as oblivious as Astarion can be, he’s not that stupid.  Wide-eyed, she turns to him.

He cocks an eyebrow at her sudden shift.  “Yes?”

Half-words tumble from her agape mouth as she trips over her clashing thoughts, before finally less-than-gracefully landing on a response:  “Shit.”

His brows furrow.  “What?”

Wiping a hand down her slacked face, she continues.  “You know.”

“Know what?”

“About… me.”

“About…?  Oh, the undead thing?”  He asks flippantly.

Ayzora rolls her eyes, which settle into a glare.  

An obnoxious ‘yes,’ on all accounts .  Astarion can’t help the grin that pulls his lips upward.  He shifts, leaning back on one hand while he pretends to inspect his nails on the other.  “Darling, that was old news.”

Her expression is unmoving, and brutally cold.

But he’s unbothered- in fact, he’s almost amused.  “Oh, come on.”  He rolls his head to his slouched shoulder.  “You didn’t really think you could hide it from the vampire, of all people?  Please.”

“Get out.”

There’s a moment of shock on his face that quickly shifts to exasperation.  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of- you’re clearly in good company,” he adds, gesturing to himself.

She stands, holding open her tent’s door.  “Out.”

He rises to his feet.  “Alright, have it your way.”  He ducks out of the tent, returning to his own.

The second he steps out, she closes the flap and collapses into her bed roll.

Tears slowly roll down her face as her fears and failures weigh heavy on her head and heart.  She would hide away for the rest of the evening if she could, but…

There’s still that party tonight… Gods, I need to pull myself together.

It’s a battle, gathering her confidence and collected appearance again, but she manages.  The party hardly seems special- nothing more than a gathering of tieflings and “heroes” and shared liquor, likely with some songs and stories tossed in between.  It ought to be much easier to navigate than the sorts of parties she grew up attending, with countless nobles and an endless list of etiquette rules woven between practiced dances and long toasts.

Or, perhaps the lack of closely-followed-scripts and protocols will make it worse.

Only time will tell.

She stands in front of her mirror, adjusting her at-ease clothes.  Her hair is in the same pristine braid she creates every night, and her light grey blouse is neatly tucked into her leather shorts.  She tugs at the tops of her looser-fitting boots, adjusting them to the same height on her thighs.  Stepping back, she takes another long look at herself.

It’ll have to do.  Nothing seems to look quite right, but she’d rather not draw attention to herself as the last one to show- if at all.  That is, if anyone notices she’s gone in the first place…

“Ayzora?  Are you joining us this evening?”  Gale's gentle voice calls through her tent.

She sighs.  Of course he would.   She pulls open her tent, securing the flap to the side to keep it drawn open.

Gale stands at her door with a pleased look and an easy smile.  He's in his usual evening wear, but his hair is drawn back in a tousled half-bun.

“Trying new hairstyles?”  Ayzora asks, giving him a once-over.

“What do we think?”  He opens his arms out in presentation and turns, showing off the minor transformation.

She gives him a smile, and a slight nod.  “Not bad.”

“I think that's the kindest thing you've said to me yet,” he beams, winking at the necromancer over his shoulder before turning back around to face her.

“I strive not to further inflate the ego of a mage,” she responds almost dryly- but there’s a twinkle of fondness in her eyes, giving way to levity.

“I see.”  He glances around behind him.

There are some other conversations carrying on around camp as the night sinks in.  D’Urge sits around the campfire with Karlach and Wyll, and Shadowheart seems to be in thoughtful discussion with Halsin, who had arrived a few minutes earlier and announced the rest were on their way.  Lae’zel sits in front of her tent, carefully polishing her weapons to put on display for the evening, while Astarion stands on the rugs set out before his tent with a book in hand.  The vampire rogue steals a glance over at the chatting wizards, briefly reaching up to ensure his curls are perfectly in place before resuming his reading, turning the page.

Upon confirming their companions are occupied, Gale turns back to his friend.  “Are you alright?”

Ayzora, whose gaze had been subconsciously drifting to the nonchalant rogue, snaps to attention.  “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been rather uncharacteristically absent since our encounter with the devil.”

“I have a characteristic absence?”

“Most tend to,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Her head cocks to the side with a smirk.  “Fair.”

“So, might I lend an ear to whatever it is that troubles you?”

She turns her head in the beginning of a shake, before changing her mind as it dawns on her: she isn't the only one with a god looming over her.

Gale had told her about his love affair with the goddess of magic, Mystra.  A tryst that began to drive him to a desperation to impress her, and ended with a magical bomb in his chest, something he called a Netherese Orb.  A precarious condition he has to maintain through the absorption of magic in order to stay alive- and, well, keep the impending explosion at bay.

That's when she told him about Orcus.  About the triad.  About the power and security it promised her, and the brutal downfall that followed.

If he knew that she, too, oft absorbed a precious and immaterial force to stay alive, would he understand?

She gives a long look to the wizard.

His eyes dart between hers as he works to get a read on her.

“I know that look.”

She catches herself in a moment, forcing her expression to remain the same; forcing herself to remain in control.  “What do you mean?”

“There's something you're not saying; because for one reason or another, you're afraid to talk about it.  I’m here if you-”

“No.”

His eyes go wide.

No, She thinks to herself, of course not.  He wouldn't understand.

Her mind searches for words she cannot seem to find- something to ease the tension rising in the air and in her stomach.

Gale’s expression shifts from shock to resolve as his eyebrows furrow.  His voice is softer, but much more firm.  “People who speak in excess often conceal a lack of knowledge.”  He leans in, gesturing with a nod of his head towards Astarion, “our friend seems to have mastered the craft.”  

Ayzora glances at the elf, taking a deep breath as she locks eyes once again with the wizard.

Gale holds up a finger; as both advice and a warning, “It’s the ones who stay silent you need to keep an eye on.  They know much more than they would ever let on, often to a concerning degree.”

The necromancer cautiously scans the camp for listening ears.  Everyone appears to be occupied.

She doesn’t notice that Astarion only turns the page when he feels eyes on him.  Besides, with his tent next to hers, who can blame him for accidentally hearing bits and pieces of her conversations?

Her focus returns to Gale.

His eyes soften.  “But remaining silent and alone is a grim sentence.  Whatever it is, Ayzora, I will listen.”

There’s a long pause.  Thinking.  Debating.  And finally, acquiescing to her friend’s persuasion.

“Orcus returned last night.”

“After a long stretch of silence?”

She nods, shifting her weight.  “He wanted to make one last deal.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He nods thoughtfully.  “Is it the unknown nature of this final bargain that troubles you?”

She pauses.  The answer is… complicated.  Half-yes, half-no.  She’s long grown used to the less-than-explicit approach Orcus took to his orders and offers.  This time feels different…

Her eyes drift again to pale white curls.

“Yes,” Ayzora answers slowly, as if cautious of every syllable.  She looks at Gale, taking pause to find her words.  “But I worry about the implications it may carry for others.”

His head tilts to the side.  “How do you mean?”

She tilts her chin downward.  The gold ring around her irises catches the light, glowing in contrast to her cold emerald eyes staring at him through white eyelashes.  “Traveling in numbers means any bargain struck by one is made for all;” her voice, though still resonant in her chest, is broken by breath as it quivers, “and I fear I remain a bad omen.”

Gale casts his gaze downward for a moment, gathering himself.  “Ace…” he whispers under his breath.  No other sound emanates from agape mouth, his eyes pleading for his mind to catch up to his heart and say something. 

And yet, the wizard with a knack for always having something to say is rendered speechless.

She watches him with baited breath, awaiting any sort of comforting response; but the longer she looks at him, the deeper the pit in her stomach sinks as she begins to feel less like a friend pleading for encouragement and more like a looming shadow over a gentle soul undeserving of further torment.

Before it can cut any deeper, she steels herself, giving a curt nod to Gale and stepping past him: The conversation is over now.

As much as he would like it to continue.

“Ayzora?”  He asks, trying to deny- or at least appeal- her decision to leave and dissuade her from putting her walls back up so quickly.

“Thanks, Gale,” she adds over her shoulder as she walks away from her tent and over to the incoming group of Tieflings.

The wizard stands before his friend's tent for a while.  In a way, he almost stubbornly hopes it tells him something she won't. 

It doesn't.

Astarion stares at Ayzora from afar.  He swirls a bottle of wine in one hand, lifting it to his lips and swallowing the bitter liquid until he feels sufficiently distracted by the horrid taste of the mediocre drink.

As soon as the guests arrived, she had been comfortably near them and agonizingly far from him.  Listening to their songs and stories, softly smiling at their jokes, and even waltzing with Wyll for a while.  Yet her eyes continually found his, as if anchoring herself to him in these uncertain waters.  There’s hardly a moment for his concern to find voice in his mind; she continually makes wordless promises to return to the home he has become, and he cautiously dances over the line between honesty and manipulation as he tries to draw her in further.

Mulling over his disappointing beverage, he watches on as a tiefling shows off a few of his spells to a small crowd, Ayzora among them.  A minor illusion ignites from his fingertips, rising up into the air before bursting in brilliant blues, whites, and purples as bright fireworks.  Ayzora offers reserved applause along with the rest, stealing yet another glance at the rogue.

The bright light of the fireworks fade into the blue hue of the moonlight and reflect in his silvery curls, highlighting the tops of his strong cheekbones and pink pouting lips.  The contrast of the cool tones in his ruby red irises makes his eyes twinkle as he meets her gaze.  Ayzora saunters over to Astarion, her alcohol-induced buzz relaxing her gait, in turn bringing a gentle sway to her hips that he can’t help but notice.  As she nears, he puffs his chest and wears a charming smirk, donning the seductive act yet again.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” he announces- mostly just to her.  Like no matter how loud or grandiose his speech, she will always be his audience.

She catches herself in an involuntary grin, glancing down to regain her composure before looking back up at him.  A soft smile still remains, despite her efforts.

He continues, “you will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

She raises an eyebrow.  “Will I?”

“Darling, I can hardly keep my mind clear to fight; I’ve been thinking about our last night together ceaselessly.”  He drops his head, fidgeting with his hands, shifting from declaration to confession, “I’ll be in quite the spot of mortal peril if you let me keep distracting myself dreaming instead of doing.”  He leans back, resuming his arrogant flirtation, “we can’t have that, can we?  It would be very dangerous.”

“Well, now I’m tempted to leave you dreaming a while longer,” she teases.

“Ah, so you need a bit of enticing?”

She shifts her weight to one side, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, silently challenging the vampire.

“Let me see…”

She watches as he thinks for a few seconds, before pulling one of his lines out of his mental catalogue.

“How about this one,” he begins, “All these accolades from the Tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

She thinks for a moment, before shaking her head.  “I’ve heard better.”

“Hmm, let me give it another go.”  He re-positions himself, standing back like an artist taking in their sculpture work.  “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation -” he emphasizes, leaning towards her as if the beauty he speaks of is a confessed secret.  Straightening, he offers an explanation:  “It’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

Perfect body?  The gods?  Please.   Despite his best efforts, she can’t get past the fact that these lines were meant for someone- anyone- else.  Her arms unfold as she begins to examine her fingernails, noting how chipped the polish has become.

Before she can say a word, Astarion sees her negative shift in expression and jumps in with a final attempt:  “How about if I said these little words…”

Ayzora looks up, intrigued.

“Everyone’s favorite,” he adds, stepping closer to her.

Her stomach stirs, but she does not move.

Astarion begins to speak, but as the words fall from his mouth, his expression shifts from feigned gentleness to suppressed fear as they seem to ring truer than he had intended:  “I love you,” he says low.

Her eyes widen as her heart drops into her stomach and a pang echoes in her hollow chest.  Everything tells her that this moment is fabricated; the rehearsed confession of a professional seducer, and a man desperate for the safety of a companion- but softly, whispering in the back of her mind, is a voice telling her that somehow, he might mean it.  But he doesn’t.  And… there’s part of her that wishes he did.  But she can’t even bear to think about it.

A long silence- only a couple of grueling seconds long- passes.

“Y-you… don’t mean that,” she finally responds, voluntarily adding salt to wounds she wasn’t ready to admit existed.

His jaw clenches for a moment.  I didn’t mean it.  Of course I didn’t mean it.  I’ve said it countless times to faces I hardly remember now.  Her pained expression burns into his memory as guilt grows heavy on his consciousness.  “Well,” he reasons, “I could.  If only for tonight.”  The tension within him eases.

It’s stupid.  She knows that.  But gods damn it, she’s come to care about the rogue- and despite the grief that will inevitably follow yet again, she can convince herself to believe another lie for one more night.

He recovers the theatrics, carrying on before she has the chance to dwell too much longer on just how much he can mean it if he allows himself the evening.  “Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I’d much rather we got to experience each other’s, uh… full portfolio of talents once again.”

She takes a deep breath.  “Perhaps once everyone has turned in?”

He smirks.  “I’ll be waiting,” he says with a wink before turning on his heels and dipping into his tent.

Ayzora stands outside of his tent, swallowing down a lump rising in her throat.  She can tend to her wounds later- for now, they don’t have to exist.  Heartbreak will have to wait.  She slowly turns to look over the rest of the party before deciding to pass the time by joining the group around the fire listening to one of the bard’s stories.

Meanwhile, Astarion lies in his tent and stares at the ceiling.  Just tonight, he reminds himself.  Just tonight, he repeats.  Just tonight.  The mantra turns from a promise to a prayer to a plea.  Just tonight.

But when the fire dies down, and the tieflings leave, and their companions doze in their tents, and the suddenly beautiful necromancer appears at his tent door, and his hands find their gentle way to her hips, he pulls her close.  His confidence wavers, grazing lips over skin in hesitation before pressing soft kisses into her neck.  He reaches for the ties holding her blouse to her body when a hand stops him.

The gold ring around her pupils glows in the low light, making her emerald gaze all the more intense.  “Tell me,” she commands- no, begs.  If he will mean it for now, she wants to hear it, and memorize the sound of the words from his mouth.

With a slow, chaste kiss to her lips, he whispers: “I love you.”

And he means it.

This is cross-posted to my Ao3, @ write-and-wander, so be sure to subscribe to the fic there if you want to see it first and be notified when it updates!

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where you scold theo for dozing off

a/n - was inspired by this post + a tiktok I saw where this girl was talking about how her boyfriend games till like 3 am with his friends but nods off at like 9 pm with her and all the comments were like girl he's so relaxed w you cuz of how much he loves you and it was all just soooo cute 😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :))

tropes/warnings - flufffff, eepy theo, established relationship, cuddling idk

word count - 830

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @iamheretoread1234

"Teddy."

"Teddy?"

"Theodore."

One hard shove to his sternum later, Theo's eyes flew open.

"'M up - "

You gave him the stink eye as he coughed sporadically, choking on his saliva. You sniffed disapprovingly.

"Honestly, Teddy. I didn't bring you here to nap."

Theo glanced around incredulously. The two of you were sitting on a picnic blanket on the side of a grassy knoll on the other side of the Great Lake. After indulging in some chocolate-covered berries, a sleepy, hazy kind of quiet had descended on the hill in that late afternoon sun. In short, it was a perfectly comfortable setting for napping.

He winced, rubbing at his sternum. "Oh, c'mon. You feed me these - these fuckass strawberries - "

"Don't talk about my strawberries that way!"

" - then you lie me down and expect me to stay awake? It's warm out, cara. I sleep warm. You know I sleep warm."

Scoffing, you lie down next to him, muttering darkly under your breath. Still, you can't resist running your fingers through his hair, gently raking at his scalp. It's an addicting thing, watching the tense parts of his face relax, watching that crease between his eyebrows disappear. Some of your earlier anger dissipates.

“You are so easy,” you tease, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Only for you, amor,” he murmurs, voice low and knowing.

Your face burns. “Merlin, shut up.”

Chuckling, he stretched his arms over his head before letting them fall lazily back down, one draping across your back. He tugged you against him, his warmth seeping into you.

"How is it that you can stay up till 3 am with your friends, but ten minutes with me and you're out like a light?" you mused. You pull your fingers away from his scalp.

"Am I that boring, Theo? Do I put you to sleep?"

Theo huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers ghosting over your shoulder before settling there, warm and grounding. His other hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer.

"Obviously," he murmured, voice still thick with drowsiness. "You drone on and on - "

A sharp pinch to his ribs cut him off, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. "Fuck - alright, alright." His grip tightened, holding you in place before you could enact further vengeance. "You don't put me to sleep."

Theo's half-lidded eyes fluttered shut again, his breathing evening out. His fingers resumed their slow tracing along your arm, dragging lazy patterns that sent shivers up your spine. As your own eyelids grew heavier, your eyes drifted over the lake’s glimmering surface.

"Actually," you murmured after a beat, pressing your cheek against his chest, "this is quite nice."

Theo made a show of pretending to shove you off.

"I see how it is," he grumbled as you laughed. "When you want to doze, it's perfectly fine, but Merlin forbid I"—he poorly stifled a yawn, blinking blearily—"get a little shut-eye."

You scoffed. "This is different. Even logistically speaking, how am I supposed to drag you back to the castle? You sleep through anything, Nott."

Theo grunted. "And you sleep through absolutely nothing."

You smiled lazily against his chest, knowing exactly what he meant. Many a night, he'd creep into your dorm, taking great pains to quietly shuck off his jacket and shoes, only for you to stir the second the mattress dipped. He’d scowl at you in the dim moonlight as you blinked at him sleepily, voice hushed but teasing as he slipped under the covers beside you. Every single time, he’d scold you for staying up, telling you in that firm, low voice of his to go to sleep, as if he hadn't been the one showing up at your bedside to begin with.

"Maybe you should try staying up with me for once," you said idly.

Theo snorted. "You'd make me watch those god-awful Muggle films."

"You love my god-awful Muggle films."

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying. You tilted your head to look at him, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair again.

"I just wish you'd save some of that energy with the boys for me."

Theo sighed, long and slow.

"Can’t help it," he mumbled into your hair, fingers ghosting over your arm. "You’re so...warm. And soft. And you smell - " he dropped his head to the hollow of your neck as he inhaled, holding you close even as you squirmed in his ticklish hold, "- like that. Like...home. Like love."

You could sense him dropping off again in the way his words slurred and his voice quieted. He was probably too drowsy to even know what he was saying. For a moment, all was silent except for the rustling that came with the occasional gentle breeze. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him pressing into your side.

Maybe you should shove him awake again. But then again…

You nestled closer to him, your own eyes drooping shut.

Maybe not.

[deadhands69]

Lights. Camera. Action?

When y/n keeps ending up in every porn trope imaginable, how will the league of villains react?  crack w/adult situations, language gn/afab reader Four short stories featuring: Tomura Shigaraki, Suichi Iguchi (Spinner), and Touya Todoroki (Dabi)

Stuck in the Washing Machine (feat. Tomura Shigaraki)

This laundry day has not gone as planned. You were almost done. A basket full of clean, fresh laundry warm out of the dryer. All of your chores finished before noon! 

Then you see it: one last sock clinging to the back of the drum. 

Naturally, you lean in to pull it out. Should be simple, right? Unfortunately not. 

When you back up to pull yourself out, you hit your head in the process and your hair gets caught in one of the screws. 

“Fucking piece of shit,” you mumble, cursing the old appliance for existing. 

Well, you'll just have to untangle it, right? Easier said than done. You can't quite see where you're caught since it's so close to your scalp. In addition to that, you can't move your arms far enough in this position to do much of anything. 

You're stuck.

Then you hear it: footsteps. Deus ex machina; you're saved! 

“Hey,” your yells echo back at you, nearly painfully. “Can you help me?”

“What?” Tomura Shigaraki’s sleepy voice drawls from the hallway before you hear his footsteps approaching. 

“I'm stuck,” you mumble, slightly ashamed of your situation.

“How the fuck did you manage that,” his gravely voice projects down at you, sounding…hot. You try to block the thought from your mind, there are more pressing matters at hand.

“Wow, you're actually stuck in there,” he says, barely hiding his amusement. 

Yeah, he definitely sounds hot today. You're not sure what got you in this mood. Was it something you ate? Didn't eat? Maybe you're ovulating. In any case, suddenly you're desperate for him. If fucking someone's voice was on the table, you'd be first in line. Shit, you need to pull yourself together. 

“Can you help?” you say a little more suggestively, arching your back to give him a view of the tiny shorts you threw on this morning.

“Uh, I can try.” You listen as his footsteps grow closer until you can see his sweat pant clad legs in what little peripheral vision you have. 

He pulls out his phone for the flashlight, reaching his hands as far into the dryer as he can get. The closeness only spurs you on. With as much motion as you're capable of, you lean into his leg, rubbing your hip against him like a cat. 

“Can you hold still?” he groans, voice still sending a thrill through you. 

“Need you,” you moan, feeling drunk on your own arousal. 

“I know you do. There's no way you're getting this untangled on your own.” 

In the corner of your eye, a piece of metal flashes as he pulls it from his pocket. This draws you back to reality, but only barely. 

“Wait,” you exclaim, “is that a knife?”

“Well, I'm not about to decay your head. Just hold still, I've almost got it.”

The clatter of the knife and dull sound of your hair being sliced reverberate around you. Suddenly, you're free. 

Standing up, you stretch for a moment. When you turn to look at Shigaraki, he hands you a chunk of your hair. Confused, you accept it. Great, first you were stuck now you've had an impromptu haircut. That's nice.

Maybe this morning doesn't have to be all bad though. 

“Since you saved me,” you lay it on thick, gripping his bicep, “is there anything I can do to thank you?”

“Yeah,” he yawns then considers for a moment, “since you're offering, can you throw my clothes in the dryer? And try not to get yourself stuck again,” he calls out from the doorway as he leaves. 

Pizza Delivery Boy (feat. Spinner)

It was just here yesterday, you think while ripping apart your bedroom to find your wallet. If you would have checked earlier, you could have ordered from somewhere that let you pay with a saved card online or Venmo. Unfortunately, the best pizza place in your neighborhood has a strict cash only policy. By the time you realized you couldn’t find the money, the order was already in the oven and it was too late to cancel.

Your phone dings from under a pile of clothes. It’s one of your friends letting you know you left your wallet in her car last night; she'll drop it off after work late tonight. You switch apps to the delivery page. The status bar on your the screen ticks forward, indicating that the driver, ‘Spinner’, is on the way. Not that those are ever correct, but it gives you some vague idea of how little time you have left.

You pull up the couch cushions and search for change under the bed. The yield of your efforts still leaves you just short. Fuck.

With a screech of tires, followed by the light crunch of a vehicle hitting a curb, you're alerted to his presence. You rush to the door, watching through the peephole. The driver climbs out of his car with one hand carrying your pizza and the other flipping his magenta hair out of his face. The world briefly morphs into an old music video, it's like everything is in slow motion.

He’s cute. Really cute.

Maybe there’s another way you could pay for it.

“Hi, uh Spinner!” You answer the door with a bounce, suddenly feeling shy but you push through it. “So, here’s the thing. My friend has my wallet and I’m coming up short on cash. Surely there’s something I could do to make up for it?”

“Oh,” he says, processing what you’ve just said. He’s never had to deal with this on a delivery before.

“When’s your lunch break?” you ask in the most alluring voice you can manage.

“It’s now,” he says nonchalantly. “Well, it's soon. Right after I finish your delivery.”

“You wanna stick around,” you run your hands over his arm, pulling at the sleeve of his leather jacket. “I’m sure there’s some other way to make up for the rest of the bill.”

“Yeah, I’d be down to split it. You picked my favorite toppings and I need to get lunch anyways,” he says, moving into your living room to make himself at home.

As the two of you are eating, you keep glancing up at his face for signs he might be interested in more. Unfortunately, you got yourself pretty worked up in anticipation of trying to seduce him and you’re finding it nearly impossible to turn that off.

“So,” you muse, “after this. You still have like twenty minutes or so, right?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“I thought I could do something for you,” you lean into his shoulder, “you know, to make up for it?” 

“Oh, it’s really not a big deal. I had to get lunch anyways,” he says, “but if you want I could stick around for a bit. I think I know what you're getting at.”

He scoots and closer to the center of the couch near you and takes off his heavy jacket. “You know, I really appreciate it too. It's always so hard to unwind in the middle of the work day.”

Just as you're about to reach for his belt buckle, he leans past you – grabbing an n64 controller from the table. 

“You want to be Mario or Luigi?” he asks with a huge smile.

The two of you proceed to play the most awkward session of Super Mario Bros of your life, jumping down pipes when you wish he was sliding into yours. When he leaves, he asks for your number, exclaiming how great it is to have a good "video game bro" to hang out with during the day now.

Walked In On (feat. Dabi)

It’s been a long day and you finally get a moment to yourself. All you want is to unwind, what better way to do that than an orgasm? Jumping in the shower, you set the water temp just right. Your favorite music is playing and you relax into it. You finally find the perfect angle for the shower head when–

BANG!

Suddenly the door crashes open and your roommate Dabi barges in.

You stifle a moan for long enough to yell, “hey, I’m in here!” It’s no use though - he’s already in the room, digging through the medicine cabinet.

“Well, there’s only one bathroom and you’re hogging it. Besides,” he adds, “the only Tylenol in the house is in here.” That’s not true, you think to yourself, but it doesn’t matter: he ruined it. 

Or, maybe he didn’t.

Through the clear plastic shower curtain, you can make out his frame. Maybe you’re just turned on, but he’s pretty hot. And you’ve only been in here for five minutes, at most, he had to have timed it on purpose. It's almost like he wants to be in here with you. 

“Heyyy, Dabi,” you breathe, hoping he hears the longing in your voice and gets the hint it’s okay to join you from that alone.

“Yeah?” he asks, shaking some pills out of a bottle before drinking straight out of the faucet. 

“Can you give me some help in here?”

“What, did you get something caught in the drain or something? Because last time that was fucking disgu–”

“No, nothing like that,” you reply quickly, hoping to derail that thought before it gets too far. How is he not getting it, he’s the one who walked in here? “I mean, you came in at a very specific time.”

“Oh, that. If you needed me to get you tampons, you could have just said so. Not like I don't have a mom and sister. Yeah, I'll head to the store. We're out of paper towels so I need to go anyway.”

Good to know, but that's still not what you meant. 

“No,” you say exasperated, “that's not the help I'm asking for. Do you want to get in the shower with me?”

You aren't sure how you could make it more obvious than that, surely he has to understand now. 

He yanks the shower curtain back, startling you. But, now that he's here… his arms glisten with the drops of water splashing onto him from the shower. You notice the perfect line of his jaw, leaning in to kiss him.

Unfortunately for you, Dabi's attention is still elsewhere as he searches the ceiling. He moves, not noticing your advances.

“Is there a bug or something? That's what you needed help with in here, right?”

“There’s not a bug, I just thought maybe you’d want to take a shower with me.”

“Oh, yeah. That water bill was insane last month,” Dabi says, his face relaxing now that he thinks he understands. “I showered this morning though.”

He closes the curtain on you, turning to head out the door. “Plus,” he adds, “I wouldn’t want it to be weird for you to have to see my dick or anything.” 

Weird? That's exactly what you want. You finish your shower quickly and spend the rest of the evening hiding in your bedroom.

Casting Couch (feat. all three)

After months without so much as being called back, you jumped at the first job interview you landed. It’s at a seedy bar on the side of town you don’t usually visit, but that’s not a deal breaker. 

When you arrive, a polite man with some sort of smoke quirk greets you at the bar before taking you to a back room.

“Right this way,” he says, holding the door to the hallway. “They’re all back here waiting for you.”

“They? How many people are interviewing me?”

“Just the three of them, they like to work together on matters such as this.” He pushes open another door to a small room and gestures for you to sit on the couch across from the three men. They all perk up as soon as they see you and begin asking questions.

“So how much experience do you have?” asks the man with shaggy blue hair sitting across from you.

“How flexible are you in tough situations?” adds the one with the gecko quirk.

Then the darker haired man chimes in with, “how available can you make yourself?” 

It’s all so familiar.

The three attractive men across from you. The leather couch. All of the suggestive questions they’ve been asking. You’ve heard of interviews like this. With how long it’s taken you to find work, you’ll happily play along. Looking at the three of them, you’re even excited for it.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” you say, taking off your sweater.

“Right now?” asks the blue haired one, looking more confused than you expected.

“Yeah, you want to see what I can do, right?” you reply provocatively.

“Yeah, but,” adds the one with nose piercings, “there’s not enough room in here.” The others nod in agreement.

At that statement, you wonder what kind of crazy shit you’ve gotten yourself into. Curiosity gets the best of you though and you push forward. Whatever it is, you still need the job.

“Then aren’t you going to take me somewhere else?”

“Yeah, you might want to put your sweater on though. It’s pretty cold out,” the man with the fuschia hair replies. Reluctantly, you throw your sweater back on, knowing you’ll just be peeling it off again in a little while.

“Well, lead the way!” you say excited at the prospect of a potential job and the opportunity to sleep with three of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life. 

The four of you exit through the bar, the man at the counter waves knowingly. You exit, walking a few blocks down the sidewalk and turning to cut through a park. You must be going to one of their apartments. Abruptly, they stop in the middle of the field and turn to you.

“Now’s your time to shine,” the darker haired man nudges you.

“R-right here?” you ask.

“Yeah, this looks like a good place,” states the one with scars on his lip and eye. Again, the others nod in agreement. 

“But there are people...” you whisper, glancing at the busy playground nearby.

“Oh, these people aren’t bothered by anything,” starts the scaled man. “No one in this neighborhood is. Just keep it over here and they’ll mind their own business. Dabi comes down here and does this by himself all the time,” he adds, pointing at the man next to him. Dabi looks pretty proud of himself.

“Huh,” you consider, “well, if you say it’s okay. Maybe we can go behind the gazebo or something.”

“You shy or something?” asks the man who you now know as Dabi. 

“Yeah, something like that. I’ve just never done this before. Not like this, at least."

"Weird, but okay," says the one with blue hair.

The four of you walk behind the gazebo where you take your shirt off and they promptly ask if you are having heat flashes and need medical attention.

Needless to say, you did not get that job.

bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @cryptidfuckerofficial @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

@lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820

@its-evee16 @love-for-yoosung-kim

[annecoulmanross]

So it's been a while. But I couldn't let James Fitzjames Finding Day pass without some celebration—thank you Doug Stenton, Stephen Fratpietro, and Robert W. Park for giving us this wonderful and terrible knowledge. I've made an emotional playlist of all of us currently experiencing whatever emotion this is:

Selected lyrics for each song included below the cut!

Strange Ships | PHILDEL

Strange ships won’t let me sail out Passed by the ice and stone now

2. I, Carrion (Icarian) | Hozier

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

3. Howling | Wild Rivers

Howling out here for the morning light I can’t sing no more

4. The Yawning Grave | Lord Huron

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

5. Sax Rohmer #1 | The Mountain Goats

Ships loose from their grins, capsize and then they’re gone Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on

6. Long Wave | Dessa

Starve the guard dog And see what hunger does It’s easy when we’re well fed To talk of love

7. Achilles Come Down | Gang of Youths

Throw yourself into the unknown, With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold, And see life as a means to a triumph

8. Eat You Alive | The Oh Hellos

I’ve seen the true face of the things you call life The song of the siren that holds your desire Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she’ll eat you alive

9. My Ego Dies At The End | Jensen McRae

Leave my body and my ego early Kill it kind with a surgeon’s mercy Claim I put it out of its misery

10. Who We Are | Hozier

Darling, we sacrificed We gave our time to something undefined This phantom life sharpens like an image But it sharpens like a knife

11. Devourer | Aidoneus

Beams of light, show me how to feel Light the gloam, find my Achilles heel I will welcome my mortality—let me go

12. Sound the Bells | Dessa

Go lift your sails up For one last swell Go lift yourselves up To sound the bells

13. Your Bones | Of Monsters and Men

Said goodbye to you my friend As the fire spread All that’s left are your bones That will soon sink like stones

14. Wildflower and Barley | Hozier, Allison Russell

This year, I swear it will be buried in actions This year, I swear it will be buried in words Some close to the surface, some close to the casket I feel as useful as dirt, put my body to work

15. These Bones | Azrai, Momo O’brien

It’s a savage sea we’re made to roam Every tide can turn to haunt us But the ocean reaches past these ghosts And I will always sail for more

16. By Way Of Sorrow | Cry Cry Cry

You have come by way of sorrow You have come by way of tears You’ll reach your destiny Meant to find you all these years

17. Gracestone | PHILDEL

When I open my final door I’m gonna sail much wilder seas than your ships were built for I’m turning into dust across that cove You know, I have known enough to not feel owed

18. Glowing | The Oh Hellos

You’ll rise, like land, pulled up at the sound of some strange commandment A moon alight, reflecting fully And I guess it would feel like rebirth, out of some kind of dying To see yourself so glowing

[natequarter]

TOM BAKER: The sense of loss is so acute, because I identify with it myself, ‘actuarially speaking’, as they say. I’ll be the next to go, somebody reminded me. ‘Actuarially speaking, Tom, you’ll be the next Doctor Who to die.’ ‘Thanks,’ I said.

INTERVIEWER: Don’t be silly. You’ll live forever.

BAKER: (Smiling) You’re very kind.

INTERVIEWER: You’ve always seemed so comfortable talking about death, though. I mean, you’ve bought your own gravestone [engraved ‘Tom Baker, 1934 –’], which is a bit morbid.

BAKER: I don’t think it’s morbid. I think it’s my idea of a joke, actually – to make jokes about what frightens me most.

INTERVIEWER: Where is your grave now?

BAKER: The grave? The grave’s yawning for me. I don’t know where the grave will be, but the stone is still at that church [St Nicholas, in Boughton Malherbe, in Kent, near Tom’s old home]. I’ve thought of having it sent over [to his East Sussex home], but the postage is excessive. (He points to the door leading to the bar) It’s nearly as big as that door. It’s a beautiful stone. It had been used before. It’s weathered. I only had my name put on it because I was arsing around, and because I thought those w***ers might sell it to someone else. Then I heard that the rural dean spotted it one day, and he was not amused that someone who’s still alive had bought a gravestone and put their name on it. The church is tyrannical. It’s my gravestone. Why can’t I put on it what I like? Maybe I should put, ‘Tom Baker – he f***ing likes being dead!’

[...]

BAKER: I have written a letter saying what I would prefer about disposing of me when I die. I was rather touched and intrigued by the mighty John Gielgud – all actors adored him – who left instructions, when he died, that there was to be no funeral and no memorial service. It is said – because he could be terribly funny, in a bitchy way – that his reasoning was: ‘I simply can’t bear the thought of that dreadful John Mills reading some awful poem about walking through the valley of the shadow of death.’

INTERVIEWER: I thought you’d love all that melodrama at your funeral.

BAKER: (Laughs) Well, actually, I said to Sue, ‘I think I should do the readings in advance, and a little homily saying, “You may think I’ve gone, but I’ve got my eye on you,” or “Aren’t the acoustics terrible in here?”, or “I’m talking to you from beyond the grave. Good God! Is that Jon Pertwee over there?!”’

[rosedpetal]

Omg I didn’t know u wrote for Robert chase 🙈 I loved ur last fic of his! Could I request a fic of him spending a day off w his s/o? Like going out for breakfast, and then grocery shopping and maybe like a bookstore stop 💗

Hey girl, I'm so SORRY for how long it took me to write this. I'd tried to keep this as sweet as possible. Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 705

Masterlist

The alarm went off loudly on your phone and you groaned, inattentively turning it off. Robert yawned, gently pushing your body away and untucking his arm under you, stretching it.

"Seriously, baby? On my day off?" He half teased, pressing a kiss on the nape of your neck.

"That's what you get for telling me I'm fat." You mumbled, with your eyes still closed.

"Let me guess, I said that to you in your dream?" His lips softly trailed the shell of your ear and you giggled at how ticklish it made you feel, a trail of goosebumps appearing on your arms.

"Hmmm, maybe."

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Robert had his fair share of relationships before, and he knew better than to ask you for the details of whatever insecurity your subconscious induced in your sleep, no matter how ridiculous he thought it was – considering you were the hottest thing alive in his humble opinion.

"What are our plans for today?" He asked, his fingers trailing your stomach, eager to change topics. You squealed when he poked at your side.

"I thought we could laze around all day?" You suggested. You weren't a morning person, and the thought of being on his arms all day was a very welcomed one.

"No way." Robert scoffed, sitting up, to your disappointment.

"Why not?" You tried to hide the pout in your face.

"Because, sleepyhead, House is not gonna bother me for 24 hours and I wanna be awake to actually enjoy it. Or you know, I might end up dreaming about patients and-"

"Okay, I get it." You said, huffing slightly and trying to turn away from his grip only to be met with tiny kisses peppered all over your face. "I'm awake!" You hummed in contentment when his lips finally met yours.

Robert pulled back just a little, his blue irises on yours, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Let's have breakfast in that little café you won't shut up about it."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, I'll marry you."

He chuckled when you quickly got up, going straight to the shower and following right after you.

Robert could now understand your obsession with the café. It had the best coffee he drank in a while, and the pastries were delicious. Also, his stomach did that little flip thing it always did whenever he saw your eyes shining at something you enjoyed.

After paying the bill, the two of you took a little stroll in the neighborhood, stopping by the local market to buy some stuff you run out of.

You were picking up some vegetables, already trying to decide what you'd cook tonight. Maybe something with tomato sauce?

Jokingly, you pointed to the strawberries. "Hey, how about those?"

"If you're trying to kill me, go for it." He rolled his eyes playfully, since he had that severe strawberry allergy that could put him in the grave.

"Nah, I'm just kidding. You're way too handsome to die. Specially by my hands." You wrapped your arms around him from behind, standing in your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Except if we're talking about la petit mort."

He suppressed a groan. You could be such a brat when you wanted to. "Keep whispering this stuff to me, and we'll skipping that trip to the bookstore you've been begging me for weeks now."

A little whine, and your hands weren't on him anymore. Smiling to himself, Robert accompanied you to the the local bookstore in the corner.

You weren't even interested in browsing a lot. Most of the popular books you saw on TikTok you've already had read or or didn't finish, so you just picked a coloring book and Robert, very sweetly, paid for it along with some new coloring pens for you.

When you got home, you put the veggies you picked in a bowl with water, spreading your new coloring pens and book on the dining table. Robert, leaning against the wall, cleared his throat. "You're not forgetting about anything?"

You knew that face. His blue eyes fixed on you, gaze a little hazy. You giggled and ran to him, jumping on his lap, and happily, he carried you to your shared bed.

[euphoricbi]

reader wanting to sleep on the couch cuz they feel bad for using the safeword w geto, gojo and choso :( (separately)

-🍪 anon

kay. ♡

smut//comfort.//satoru's being kinda toxic, eee.

C h o s o

I think we can all agree that Choso has a lot of stress, so he takes it out when he fucks you. Your head is pushed into the pillow in front of you, staining it with your spit and tears as you try to hold up your body. He's been fucking you for hours, honestly, you forgot how long.

Choso drills his cock into your hole, his hands gripping your hips as if trying to break them. Your eyes roll back as he holds your ass up, your legs shaking as you practically scream into the pillow. His hand pushing your head down as his own eyes flutter shut, the way your body gave out was almost like a trophy for him.

"Red— Red!—" All his movements come to a halt, "Did, did I hurt you?—" he asks, slowly flipping you over so you could face him, his lower lip jutting out in the tiniest of pouts as he kisses your tears. "Sorry—" he says as you try to catch your breath, you feel bad for saying it. Choso stands up, removing his cock from inside of you, walking away to bring you water, and wipe your sweat. After that, you both sit on the bed for a moment before you spoke.

"Can you give me a blanket? And pillow?—" You ask as you look at him, seeing him look a bit puzzled. "For what?" You get a bit nervous hearing him say that, "So I can sleep on the couch.". He looks at you for a few seconds, hands grabbing at your wrists so you can face him. "Aren't you angry at me for saying that?—" The more you speak, the more confused he gets, "Why would I be angry? Sometimes I get that you can't take things. I'm not upset with you." he scoots a bit closer, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"I'm not letting you leave."

Even if you tried to sneak away in the night, you'd either wake him with him on the couch with you, or he carried you back to bed.

S u g u r u

Suguru loves fucking you rough because he knows you can't handle it. Your legs are pressed against your chest, as he pummels his cock into your hole, his face with a smug smirk. He loves the way your eyes can barely focus, your body shaking as it just welcomes his onslaught. Tears slowly streamed down the sides of your face, drying in your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to your open mouth.

He leans forward to make sure his dick stretches you open a bit more, his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes slowly, focusing on making you cum for the umpteenth time, loose strands of hair tickling your face. Your head is becoming hazy as you try to grab onto anything, confident he was fucking you into your grave.

"Red, Sugu— Suguruu— Red!" You cry out as he slows down, getting a few more greedy thrusts in before inevitably pulling out, placing his hands on your face before pressing kisses on your cheeks. "I got a bit carried away— I'm sorry, beloved." you breathe slowly, hands now grabbing at his back, your body continuously shivering as he pulls away.

He lays next to you, pulling you on top of his body, arms being wrapped around you. He looks confused when you pull away, "Sorry, I'll go sleep on the couch." you say, sitting up with a small yawn.

You hear him chuckle a bit in disbelief, "No, you're sleeping here. Don't be silly." he pulls your arm which makes you fall back onto him, his arms now firmly around you. "You're not going anywhere."

S a t o r u

Satoru loves hearing you sob from pleasure. His arm is wrapped around your stomach, his other pulling your head back by your hair as he licks at your cheek, breathing heavily against you. He loves seeing your mouth open is a cute 'o', tears streaming down your face as he splits you open with his dick, "Love fucking you like this." he groans as he shuts his eyes.

He continues to fuck his cock into you, making your body almost feel on fire, your body feeling limp— which allows Satoru to hold you up, whispering things in your ear to possibly make you feel bad for being weak. " 'Toruu, s'too much, stop—" he slows his hips, not completely coming to a halt.

"Too much? Want me to stop?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your ear.

"Yes— yes, red, red. Need a break." You shut your eyes as he finally stops moving his hips, muttering a soft 'okay, baby', and he lays you down on your back. He circles his thumbs on your stomach in a circular motion as he smiles, "Look so cute with your body all fucked out.", he notices the way you groan and turn away, embarrassed. Satoru stands up, grabbing a tissue from his side of the bed— "Why do you have tho—".

"Ah ah ahhh, fucked out people can't speak, they're fucked out." he snickers, wiping at your lower body a bit- cleaning up his own cum. After that, he lays next to you not bothering to put any clothes on as he smiles, pulling your body against his.

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch—" You say as you try to pull away, and he doesn't let you. "Wha— Why?" he asks, snuggling against you— "Aren't you mad that I said red?—". That stuns him, he pulls away to look at you, his face portraying shock.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that." he lays his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses there.

[arcane-vagabond]

WIP GAME 🖋️✨

thank you so much for tagging me @elixirfromthestars!! 💛

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell us about it. then tag as many people as you have wips.

Alright, this is a long list, but here we go...

Hanging By a Moment (Wild West!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

Singing in the Sanctuary (Wild West!AU w/ Bradley Bradshaw)

Outrun the Devil (Wild West!AU w/ Bob Floyd)

All That Glitters (Wild West!AU w/ Javy Machado)

By Its Cover (Regency!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

Road to Perdition (1930s!Mobster!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

Foul is Fair (College!Omegaverse!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

Fortune and Glory (Indiana Jones!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

These Scars We Have (Vigilante!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

Call the Nightingale (Medieval!Knight!AU w/ Jake Seresin)

Two Birds (Mafia!AU w/ Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw)

Stranger Like Me (Tarzan!Bradley Bradshaw)

Down By the Bay (Mermaid!Siren!AU w/ Bradley Bradshaw)

We Abide (Apocalypse!AU w/ Tyler Owens)

Together, Transformed (Witch!AU w/ Tyler Owens)

Trapped in Silk (Vampire!Bucky Barnes)

Lord of Thieves (Robin Hood!Bucky Barnes)

Til the Summer Comes Again (Jack Frost!AU w/ Stiles Stilinski)

Fathoms Below (Little Mermaid!Derek Hale)

The Yawning Grave (Fae!Isaac Lahey)

Unnamed Cupid & Psyche fic w/ Jake Seresin

Oof, what a list.

No pressure tags: @goldenseresinretriever @sorchathered @baezen @roosterforme and anyone else who wants to do this!

[theholmwoodfoundation]

Now the Pilot has been out for a few days we figured it was worth sharing our inspiration playlist again!

We think maybe the songs might hit a little differently this time! 👀

Full Playlist:

Superstitious Foundation // CG5 Somebody's Watching Me // Rockwell Eyes On You // Oh Geeez Not Again creature - w/ Orchestra // half-alive Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves) // The Wombats There's a Ghost in Our House // Merry Hell Like Real People Do // Hozier Monster Town // Go! Child Liar // The Arcadian Wild Colder Heavens // Blanco White Something To Die For // The Sounds Supernatural // World's First Cinema Dracula // Artio Take The Journey // Molly Tuttle The Horror and the Wild // The Amazing Devil Sincerely Yours, Jonathan Harker // Schoolyard Heroes Meet Me In The Woods // Lord Huron Little Lion Man // Mumford & Sons Monster // The Automatic Work Song // Hozier A Sadness Runs Through Him // The Hoosiers Ghosts // Ladytron You are Jonathan Harker // David Arnold, Michael Price Mina Harker's Secret // Trevor Jones Whitby //  Stephan Moccio Mina's Theme // David Arnold, Michael Price I Will Follow You into the Dark // Death Cab for Cutie The Yawning Grave // Lord Huron

Don't forget to donate to our Kickstarter!

[write-and-wander]

Yawning Grave | Three: Dwindle

Astarion x Ayzora (F!OC)

Description: New faces, old memories, and internal battles. The party at last finds Halsin and begins to move closer to answers, all the while Ayzora and Astarion dance along the balance between the head and the heart.

Warnings: N/A | Word count: 7.1k

| One | Two | Three | Four | ...

Read on Ao3

Streaks of red ridges carve sharp pathways into pale plains.  Lines interrupt the curve of great circles, punctuated with bug-bite dots.

Ayzora’s scars are like a waving Van Gogh variation on her own skin, carved out in a reminder of the life Orcus forced upon her; a contrast to Astarion’s, which are an intentional pattern drawn by the hand of another.  Because the marks made by a master upon their slave are a promise:  “I own you.  I will use you as I please.”   But of all the ways to brand a slave…

“Why Infernal?”  Ayzora asks aloud.

Astarion, standing tall in leather slacks, does not turn to face her.  He faces the rising sun, arms spread, as if embracing the Dawnfather himself while he basks in the golden glow.  He does, however, tense at her question.  He rolls his shoulders ever so slightly, as if allowing the sudden tension to roll off his back, and ignores her question.

“You sleep light…  I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

She decides not to push, stands, and reaches for her clothes, beginning to dress herself in silence.  He seems reluctant to look at her, only turning his head towards his shoulder enough for her to hear his words.  He seemed… distant last night, too.  Even when he did look at me, his eyes seemed… empty.  Am I so unbearable to look at?   Her spiraling thoughts only speed up her process as she rushes to cover her horrid, scarred body.

She almost believed him, when he called her beautiful.  She desperately wanted to.  But reality is swift to settle in.  

It’s over.  Astarion is not holding her; caressing her; kissing her.  He is cold and distant.  He let go of her the second it was finished.  He stood as soon as she fell into trance.

She is not a lover, but a monster.  She is an orphan and an outcast.  She cannot be anything else.

She takes a slow breath, exhaling until her chest is hollow, and holds it there as she finishes dressing.

Astarion sighs in concession as he realizes the conversation isn’t going anywhere now, and at last addresses Ayzora’s first words.

“I don’t know why that bastard wrote the poem in infernal,” he admits, watching her.

Her back was turned to him as he spoke, preparing to leave.  She stops just short of the edge of the clearing, eyes remaining on the trees.  “Poem?”

“A gift from Cazador.”

Ayzora turns to face him.

“He considered himself quite the artist, and used his slaves as a canvas.  He composed and carved that one over the course of a night.”  He bows his head, his voice lowering.  “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Her eyes flicker in sudden recognition as it clicks:  that searing pain I felt when we first connected.. .  She opens her mouth to offer her sympathies, but he’s quick to interrupt.

“It seems yours are much more meticulous, though.”

“It’s a necrology,” she says, wrapping her arms around her abdomen as if it protects the mosaic that hides beneath her dress.

His head tilts to the side in sudden piqued interest.  “That’s quite the list you’ve compiled, then…  Trophies?”

She shakes her head quickly.  “No, reminders.  If I don’t forget them… I can make up for it all.”

“Well,” he responds in surprise.  He tilts his head, examining his nails.  “A little cliché, don’t you think?”

She shrugs.

Astarion’s shoulders slack.  She’s impossible!  How in the hells does Gale, of all people, get her to talk?   

“You seem to like cliché, if your words are anything to go by.”

His eyes widen.  After all of this passivity, she’s… flirting?  It seems my work paid off after all.   A smile settles on his features.  “It’s always a pleasure to find like-minded people.”  He grabs his shirt from the tree branch it hung from.  “Now let’s go, we’ve wasted enough time already.”

Ayzora feels something flutter in her stomach, and bashfulness immediately follows on its heels.  Shit .  The smile is already on her face- the mask has already slipped.  She turns and walks back to camp in hurried strides.

Astarion watches his newest plaything leave as his confidence swells.  I’m almost disappointed.  This was certainly easier, but I think blackmail is always so much more fun .

He put the pieces together last night.  Her skin is pale, and cold.  Her heart did not pound beneath his touch; it was still.  Her breath is a natural habit, sure, but clearly unnecessary; her chest never moved while she tranced.  Her patron, Orcus, is the god of undeath himself.  She tries to hide it, and manages well enough, but Astarion knows death better than most.

Ayzora is undead.

She’s no vampire, but she reeks of death as much as her lover.

And no one else knows.

A surprise for later, then. 

“I owe thanks.  I am the druid Halsin.”

Ayzora’s stomach drops.

What once was a bear now stands tall before the group in a humanoid form.  His ears are pointed like an elf’s, but instead of the lean frame of Ayzora and Astarion, his defined muscles nearly double his size by comparison, dwarfing even the white dragonborn that stands before him.  He maintains nearly a full foot of height over his elvish counterparts.  He wears brown and green leather with golden filigree and leafy detail, signaling his druidic background.  Covered in the viscera of slain goblins, his introduction makes waves amongst the group as a flurry of emotions rise.  Most breathe a sigh of relief.  Shadowheart whispers thanks to Lady Shar, while Lae’zel, still offended by the group’s general disinterest in her creche, remains quiet.

“Glad we could be of help,” Dark Urge, ever the confident leader, responds as he steps forward.

“I must admit,” Halsin continues, “I didn’t expect anyone to come to my aid…”

His voice fades into the background as Ayzora glances over at Astarion, who is watching the druid with an uninterested expression.

Feeling eyes on him, he meets her gaze.

She smiles and drops her eyes back to the floor.

The tadpole in her brain writhes for a moment as Astarion mentally prods, asking for permission.

She allows their minds to connect.

“Yes, darling? ”  He asks.  Despite the conversation being utterly silent, only existing in their minds, his tone is lighter than usual, as if he’s smiling in light of her attention.

“You seem bored.  Aren’t you… excited about this?  We found the healer.”  She tries to keep her feelings concealed: the worry about the healer’s ability to truly cure them, the fear of her nature being revealed to the group, and above all, the solemn concern that she will be alone and without chance at redemption if Astarion- the elf she is rapidly garnering affection for- goes his own way; but the emotions translate to Astarion as clearly as her words through the mental pathway.

“We’ve also met two other healers who did nothing to help.  I’ll be impressed when one of them manages to prove themselves useful.”

Ayzora shifts her attention back to Halsin, who is still in the middle of sharing his knowledge about the tadpoles.

Hope begins to wilt away as the druid speaks, until the damning words at last confirm what she had feared: “I can’t cure you.”

Astarion scoffs.

Ayzora turns and begins to leave.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t help,” Halsin adds.

Gale catches the necromancer’s arm.  “Wait,” he whispers.  “Please.”

She pulls her arm out of his grasp, but concedes.  Back still turned to Halsin, she turns her chin towards her shoulder and listens.

Halsin explains that while he did not find a cure for the illithid tadpoles, he did find their source: a place called Moonrise Towers.  On the heels of his information is a request- help him, and he helps them.  If the group kills the three leaders of the goblin camp here, the tieflings in the druid grove could finally travel safely to Baldur’s Gate.  With the grove taken care of, Halsin can join the journey to Moonrise.

“What can I do to help?”  Dark Urge asks, immediately accepting the new quest.

“Another favor,” Astarion notes mentally, his tone chock-full of exasperation.

Ayzora takes a deep breath.  “More blood to spill,” she adds, matching his tone.  

In her youthful naïveté, she started her travels to make ends meet.  She walked herself down a dark path because her god and her friends demanded her to.  All the while, so much blood was shed it could create her own ocean to drown in.  Each new kill feels like another gasp for air that only fills her lungs with gore.  Watching over the temple of the Raven Queen was supposed to be the ladder out of the eternal fountain of death Ayzora was baptized in, and yet her head is still under bloody waters.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Astarion’s voice breaks through her guilt.  He smiles, the thrill of bloodlust dripping from his bared fangs.

Before she can respond, the tadpoles’ connection snaps.  She is alone, again.

It’s frustrating, how Astarion’s absence stings.

“Come with us,” Dark Urge insists.

Astarion rolls his eyes.

Ayzora looks back at the muscular elf.

Though his form is towering and his words speak of a gruesome fight, his eyes are as soft as the tone of his baritone voice.  A sense of recognition pricks the edges of her thoughts.  He’s familiar to her- like a few notes bringing a long-forgotten song back to the forefront of her mind.

Halsin looks over the party, assessing his unlikely companions.  While Wyll and Karlach remain at camp, the rest stand before the archdruid, anticipating the confirmation of the group’s newest addition.  His eyes linger on Ayzora.

Meeting his gaze, suddenly, it clicks.  The now-remembered melody sings.  Memories flood back to her.

“So be it,” he says at last, and looks again at the white dragonborn.  “May Silvanus lend us nature’s fury.”

The series of fights that follow are hard won.

Halsin, shifted back into a bear, leads each battle with the fury of the scorned.  He is a child who fights for his god’s creation, and a leader who fights for the safety of his people.  His prowess is noble.

Astarion loses himself in the joys of bloodshed, dashing between goblins and running daggers through various kinds of flesh and furs.  With his secrets at last exposed, he can indulge freely in turning his fanged rage against Cazador towards his temporary opponents; and none stand long once they are made his target.  The blood that splatters on his chest and drips down his cheek mixes with sweat, turning translucent and catching the torchlight like glittering ruby dust.  His passion is contagious.

Ayzora is elsewhere.  Her movements are made with practiced precision, proving effective even in close range of her enemies.  Her mind, however, is trapped in the purgatory of her present situation, drifting down the river styx with a different sort of hell beckoning her on either side.  If she tries to anchor herself to the present, she drifts away from goblins in a dark ruined tower and washes up on a great battlefield facing the people who she betrayed.  If she reaches towards another place or another time, the faces of angry gods flood her mind with anxiety.  So instead, she chooses… nothing.  Her eyes drift between opponents only to aim a spell.  Her mouth only moves to vocally command the flow of magic through her.  Her scythe swings and slashes with ferocity.  All the while, Ayzora is absent, locked away in the recesses of her mind.  Her state is unnoticed.

When it’s finished, Halsin, Dark Urge, and Gale enter a quiet conversation.  Lae’zel cleans her blade while Shadowheart cleans her armor and Astarion makes a beeline for the treasure hoard.  Ayzora turns Messorem from scythe to cloak and sits, clasping it back onto her harness while she stares a thousand yards away, into nothing.

“We’ll see you back at the grove, then,” Dark Urge says as Halsin takes his leave.

Lae’zel promptly stands to return to camp on her own, and after a beat, Astarion returns to the group, pockets full of gold.  Ayzora quietly stands, shrugging off Gale’s gentle concern with a smile and a quip about their poor luck with healers.  Shadowheart and Dark Urge begin their walk back to camp, and Gale and Ayzora start to follow a few paces behind.  She turns back to Astarion, checking to see if he’s coming with them.

Astarion meets her gaze, and for a moment, his heart sinks.  He recognizes the emptiness behind her green and gold eyes.  He’s felt it before, choosing nothing as a means of escaping that which he refuses to experience.

It was the expression he wore last night, as he ravished her in the woods.

For the first time in decades, there’s a pang of guilt in his chest.  Guilt.  Why?

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m coming,” Astarion chirps with a wink, jogging to catch up with the group and taking his place alongside her.

That evening, Gale and Dark Urge recount the day to Karlach and Wyll, even making a point to introduce them to Halsin when he stops by the camp.

Ayzora sits in front of the fire, slowly plaiting her hair into a clean braid, and carefully watching Halsin as he greets the others.  His eyes occasionally flicker to hers, feeling her stare fixed on him, but he maintains his focus on the newly met companions.

She stands and walks to the nearby shore, staring out at the lapping waves of the Sea of Swords.  She wraps her arms around her frame, a chill running from the base of her neck, down her spine, and dispersing in her legs.

“It’s a beautiful view,” Halsin says softly.

Ayzora jumps, glancing back to see the Silvanic druid standing behind her.  She nods, turning back to the sea.

The moonlight dances on the surface of the waters, casting an oblong silvery reflection against the distant ripples of the lively ocean.  Stars sparkle across the mirror of the horizon, turning the sky and the sea into a glittery gossamer blanket of indigo over Torril.

Sand softly crunches until warmth radiates against Ayzora’s back- he stands close, but does not touch her.  Slow tears trail down her cold face.

“I remember everything,” Halsin says low, his rumbling voice trailing hot breath that lands on her skin.  “And it seems,” he continues, moving to stand beside her, “you remember as well.”  He glances at her briefly, but moves his eyes to the sea as she continues to stare forward.

“71 years,” she whispers.

He hums.

The salty-sweet ocean breeze fills the otherwise silent air.

She breathes in deep, letting her watery eyes flutter closed.

A large, calloused hand reaches for hers in an offer of comfort.

She takes it.

He speaks again at last: “I’m so sorry.”

Her voice is breathy and broken, barely carrying over the waves crashing into the shore.  “It’s alright.  You tried.  It meant a lot.”

“We all tried.”

“It never matters.”

“It does,” he insists, turning to face her as he wraps both hands around hers.  “You must not give up, Ayzora.  You will find an answer.”

“This isn’t a curse, Hals.  I can’t cure what I am-”

“Not by normal means, but there may still be a way.”

She looks up at him, tilting her head in a despondent plea.  Please, don’t.

“You convinced me with the Shadow Curse.  I have yet to give up on healing the lands again- and the longer I search, the more certain I am that it can be done.”

“I am, too.  For you.”  She lifts a hand to his cheek.  “I’ve made peace with it.  I need to focus on recompense, now.”  She pulls her hands away, dropping them back to her side.  In another life, she would have loved to journey with him.  To have searched together for a cure to her state, and healing for the shadow-cursed lands.  Perhaps to have even grown to love him.  But when she met him, he loved another.  The lands had been cursed for decades.  Her life was permanently shrouded by undeath.  There was no light amidst all the darkness.

If only I had told her then, he thinks as he looks upon the face he loved and lost all that time ago.  Maybe it could have been different.

“You tried; and when you failed, you gave me Droop.  You’ve done enough.”  It’s a closed chapter, she means, let’s not try to open it again.   She sighs, and mutters: “I’ve only started.”  My story is far from finished.  No rest for the wicked.

“Ace,” he begins.  But no words follow.  The moment he saw her again, his heart stirred, as hope and love rekindled.  Now, it only aches.

She nods.  She knows.  And that is enough for her.

Halsin watches as his once-companion- who could have been so much more- walks away, leaving him standing on the shore with the same defeat he had felt 71 years ago.

Silently, she returns to camp.

Astarion watches her walk through the camp like a ghost, drifting over the cool grass with hollow eyes that only look forward.  He knows what drives him to that place- but what has driven her there?   He stands and begins to follow, but stops in time with her as she freezes just in front of her tent.

She takes a deep breath, shifting her posture, and turns.  Seeing Astarion, she blinks a few times in surprise- clearly too preoccupied beforehand to have noticed him following her.  “Astarion,” she greets.

“Hello, darling,” he responds, shifting his weight onto one foot.

She looks around the camp.  “Has everyone else gone to bed already?”

“Yes- you just missed an exciting little tiff between Shadowheart and Lae’zel.”

Ayzora sighs, “of course.  Did they resolve it?”

“Unfortunately.”  He looks over his nails.  “Dark Urge talked them down.  A shame, really,” he whines, glancing over at the other tents, “a fight certainly would have been more interesting.”

“Shame I missed it,” she says flatly.  “Do you need to feed on me, tonight?”

His brows twitch together for a moment in confusion.  “Well, I don’t need it, seeing as we’re due for a party tomorrow.  But I wouldn’t say no.”

“A party?”

He sighs, resting one hand on his hip while the other gestures along with his speech.  “The tieflings from the grove offered a night of celebration to thank us for saving them.”

She hums, “Tomorrow might feel more like home for you, then.”

Astarion’s head tilts, silently questioning her.  He’s no hero.  What about this would feel homey?

“You know… the ‘bustling taverns’ and all?”

“Oh, yes,” he chirps.  “It might not be so bad after all… at least, with the right company.”

She looks down.  He didn’t really want me… did he?  He just seemed so-

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?”  Her head snaps back up.  “I’m fine.  Why?”

He scoffs.  “You may be one of the quiet ones, darling, but you’re never this standoffish.”

She shakes her head, “It’s… a long story, and I need to get some rest.”

“Well, in any case, if you ever need to… talk ,” he strains, clearly… out of his comfort zone, in this sort of conversation, “I’m all pointy ears.”

His joke, corny as it is, manages to make Ayzora smile.

He feels relieved at the sight.  It catches him off guard.  Why does it matter, anyway?

“Thanks, Star,” she responds quietly.

Star.  Like a light in the darkness.

He smiles, ever so slightly.  It’s small, barely noticeable, but it’s a feeling he had nearly forgotten.

“Goodnight,” she whispers before slipping into her tent.

“Goodnight, Ayzora” he responds after a beat, so quiet she probably didn’t even hear him.  His smile lingers.

He turns away from the closed tent.  Tomorrow, the journey is put on hold, taking a day of rest as the tieflings come to celebrate with their… heroes.  A title that, for the first time in his two and a half centuries, includes him.

He can ponder his feelings all he wants tomorrow, then.  Maybe I just need reassurance in our… alliance.  Perhaps another night of passion would make it feel a little more secure.   Then, everything can resume as planned.  Walls go back up, feelings are pushed out of the way, and a target is carved onto Cazador’s back.  The perfect plan carries on.

So long as he continues to deny himself the genuine connection he somehow desires still, despite everything.

The navy night shifts to a soft, sourceless lavender light emanating around her as she trances.  A bright blue glow flashes from the other side of her eyelids, and the chilling sensation of a presence hovering over her body forces her eyes open.

“I came just in time,” the voice greets, “you are transforming.”

Ayzora jolts back, shrinking away from the looming figure.

An elf in gold and red armor kneels beside her, holding a gentle hand near her sweating forehead.  His eyes are the rich brown of a wood elf’s- almost bearing a distant resemblance to Ryon- but his features are softer, less angular.  His face, and even more so, his voice both feel familiar.  

When the nautiloid crashed… and I lived…

He shifts back, granting some space between them.

‘Transforming.’  Into a mind flayer.  Is he the reason for our lack of symptoms?

“You…” Ayzora begins, but no other thought comes to mind.

“I saved you before.  You remember?”

Ayzora nods. 

“I’m here to save you again.”  He smiles warmly.

It does nothing to disarm her.  Her head shifts sideways as her expression shifts from confusion and curiosity to a defensive threat:   Why?  What are you doing?

“Don’t worry,” he continues, holding up a hand to signal his passivity.  “You will not become a mind flayer.”  He stands.  “Not while I’m around.”  His hand extends towards her, offering to pull her up to her feet.  “I’ll protect you.”

Watching him with the expression of a cornered animal, prepared to lash out at a moment’s notice, Ayzora scoots back to add a couple extra inches to the space between her and this… dream visitor… and slowly rises on her own.  The last person to come to me in a dream was Orcus.  He, too, made a promise that seemed too good to be true.  Who is this?  What the hells does he want?

“Independent,” he notes, twisting her defensive behavior to a positive light with a smile that is beginning to unsettle her, “good.”

Now standing, she looks around.  Stars litter the lavender skies, but there is no movement to them, as if time stands still.  The ground beneath her feels less like a promise and more like a suggestion, something she could easily leap from without the resistance of gravity.  Rocks of various sizes float around the small, airborne island she finds herself standing on.  Weathered pillars hold up a stone gazebo- one that could be an independent structure, or part of something much grander and much older than this floating piece of land could allude to.  What is this place?  

“We haven’t much time, so listen closely.”  He pensively paces towards the edge of the island, staring out into the sparkling purple abyss.  

Ayzora remains in place, watching his every movement.  But, she listens.

“There is great potential within you.  It comes from that parasite.  Your instinct is to resist the power it gives, but you must accept it, nurture it.”

So you protect me from its evil transformation, but sing the praises of its power?  Convenient.

“I will keep it from consuming you.  But for the sake of both of us, you must learn to wield it.”

If it consumes us both, I still come back in less than a tenday.  I could take my chances…

But… Astarion.

Fine.

She nods.

The stranger gestures towards the space that lies beyond, and at last, Ayzora takes a few hesitant steps closer.  Distance still remains- enough space to give her time to react- but she can see the vast skies that stretch beyond this small sanctuary this elf has brought her to.

It’s a stunning view.

Until another distant island- shimmering with magic, surrounding some sort of… great skull, it seems- comes into focus.  Glowing figures, basking in a light that renders their humanoid form otherwise unreadable, engage in a battle in the air.

“A fight for the fate of Faerun,” the visitor clarifies.  “A fight we are losing.  For now.  You can change that, but only if you embrace your potential.”

If only you knew where my ‘potential’ got me.

“I have to go.”  His voice is suddenly lower.  Less pleading.  More grave.  He turns to her.  “The enemy is closing in.  I will be back.”

Ayzora looks back to him.  She has felt many things on this journey- but the instinctual fear that rises in her stomach surpasses all of it.  This is wrong .  He is not what he appears to be.   She doesn’t know how she knows, but she’s certain of it.  No.  Not another one of you.  I can’t do this again.  

Before she can even begin to express anything, a bright light pulsates out from the distant battle-ridden skull.  It floods her view, drowning out the sparkling purple sky.  She lifts her arms in front of her face, bracing herself, when the visitor steps directly in front of her.

Holding out a hand out towards the other island, the growing light is contained; but only for a moment.  “Wake, now,” he urges, telekinetically forcing Ayzora backward, away from the explosion, with just the gesture of a hand.

As she flies into the space beyond, bright white light fills her vision, forcing her eyes to screw shut.  When she drifts, all she sees is that light, while his deep voice echoes in her mind:

“You’ll feel better- I promise.”

His promise is broken the moment her eyes open again.

The air turns cold and thin as the white light is swiftly drowned in dark night.

“My harbinger.”

His voice fills her body with a dread she has gone decades without.

Ayzora, already on her knees, beholds the Demon Lord of Undeath.

His eyes glow red beneath the deer skull he wears over his face.  Two massive horns protrude from matted black fur and curl outward with his stretched gangling wings.  His blood red skin is half-covered in black leather armor, adorned with black iron spikes.  His clawed right hand clenches The Wand of Orcus, a black obsidian and iron rod shaped like a human spine, and at the top is a mount for the glowing human skull- an eternally cursed memorial for a hero that dared stand against him centuries ago.

A weapon she used to wield, in what feels like another lifetime.

“Orcus,” she acknowledges with a nod.  

“Your companion,” he begins.

“Which one?”

“The vampire.  He, too, belongs in my domain.  It seems he has captured your attention, as well as mine.”

Her body jolts towards him, but her movement is quickly halted by the hands that grasp her shoulders.

“Has it been so long that you’ve lost your respect?”  His left hand flicks outward, ordering the others to release you.  “Come now, Ayzora.”

Claws retract from her flesh, leaving symmetrical trails of blood on her collarbone.

She stands, posture straight, face devoid of emotion.  Masterfully, she draws open the slit of her dress and drops her head in a low curtsey.  “What do you require of me, my lord?”

Orcus smiles as she straightens.  “You’ve found us quite the gift.  Fitting, that it is borne by my domain.”

She bites her tongue.

“Am I correct to assume your affections for the vampire outweigh that of the others?”

Her teeth dig into its flesh.  Stale blood mixes with saliva.

“I only ask for certainty that you will not be swayed by the druid, nor the wizard.”

Enough.  “When did you start watching again?”

His head tilts to the side in interest.  “I am always watching over my champion,” he answers, as if the question were trivial.

“We had a deal-”

“And I have maintained it perfectly, despite your failure.”

“You should have told me we were contending with Shar!”

He clicks his tongue.  “Nevermind the past.  Though you failed to harness it completely, your aid in the shadow curse still harvested plenty for your phylactery.  My armies grew, and I have left you alone.  As agreed.”

“Until your need for me becomes too great.”

“So you do recall our deal.”  With a wave of his wand, undead creatures swarm behind him, gasping and moaning as they clamber over one another until a throne of bones and rotting flesh forms beneath him.  He lowers into his undead seat.  “Your dear elf has the key to the next great expansion of my domain- one that, I assure you, will be to our mutual benefit.”

“What do you want with him?”

“Tsk, I care not for the vampire.  I care for what he can grant me.”

At least he’s honest about these things now.

“You’re smart, Ayzora.  You will know when you discover it.  All I ask is that you follow through.”  He extends a hand to her.  A deal is offered.

Ayzora instinctually begins to reach for his hand, but stops herself.  Gathering every bit of the courage she’s built for the last seven decades, she lifts her chin and looks into the eyes of her patron.  “Call this our last deal.”

His hand retracts to his side.  He leans forward.

“If I ‘follow through,’ then you end our pact.”

“You will lose the chance to make a deal with the Seldarine, and you alone will be responsible for your phylactery.  Are you certain?”

The Seldarine.  Even after all I’ve done, would Corellon accept me back into his hands?  Will I ever return to the Feywild?   Long ago, Ayzora dreamed of paying off enough debts to make a plea with Corellon.  She would be accepted back into elven society.  She would belong.  She would finally be redeemed.  And after serving his people for the centuries that could follow, she would at last return to his embrace in the Feywild; perhaps he would even send her back to Toril, allowing her to reincarnate and live a life free of the pain she could not escape in this one. It’s been over a century and a half since Orcus tempted her with the idea.  Inspiration has long since withered.  If I don’t escape now… when will it be over?

Closing the gap between her and the hulking demon lord, she offers her hand.  Orcus’s symbol, still magically carved into the back of her hand, is revealed at last as it begins to glow a dark blue.

“You’ll get what you want.  I’ll get my freedom.  Then you can find someone else to do your bidding.”

“Very well.”  Orcus extends his hand, grasping Ayzora at the forearm.

One last deal.

She wakes with a jolt.  The cold sweat upon her brow is gone, along with the pain of the beginnings of ceremorphosis, and so is the nightmare.

But the churning anxiety in her stomach remains.

A being, clearly of some sort of great power, coming to her in a dream.  Offering to protect her, while also granting her power of her own.  All the while, placing the proposal against the backdrop of some great war that only she can help with, so long as she embraces whatever it is he offers her.

It’s all happened once before.  It turned her into something else entirely.

She can’t do that again.  

She won’t.

And the demon lord responsible is making a request on the heels of this stranger.

She prefers the Raven Queen’s nightmares.

“Breakfast is served!”  Gale calls out.

Her head snaps towards the door of her tent as people begin to shuffle around the camp outside.  The sun is rising, and with it, her companions.

And, rumor has it, there’s a party to be had today.

Lovely.

When she leaves her tent, she hears the tail-end of Lae’zel’s “call to action” (a githyanki’s version of a request) to head north and at least scout out the path that will guide the group to the creche that she guarantees has the cure they’re seeking.

Wyll, Karlach, Gale, and Dark Urge agree to go with.  Astarion takes the opportunity to “get some beauty rest,” and Shadowheart… seems to have wandered off a while ago.

“In that case,” Dark Urge pipes up, “I will go search for her.  Traveling alone may prove to be dangerous.”

“Don’t need an excuse, D’Urge,” Karlach chimes in, “go find your girlfriend.  We’ve got it.”

With a smile- and a glare- he takes off.

“What about you, Ace?  You could come along,” Gale offers, shifting the group’s attention to their yet-silent companion.

She dismissively waves a hand, “no, I’ll stay.  Someone still needs to watch camp.”

“And start a fire?”  Wyll asks.

“Sure,” she agrees with a nod.

“Then it is decided,” Lae’zel confirms.  Turning on her heel, she promptly begins the walk north.

“Be back soon, soldier!”  Karlach yells back with a wave as the rest of the group disperses.

Footsteps fade behind the gentle breeze.

Exhale.

Glancing around to confirm she’s alone, Ayzora’s tears fall freely at last.  Silent, but free.

A few quiet hours pass by.  The sun has passed by the top of the sky and is beginning its descent back to the horizon as the afternoon settles in.

The sunlight warms Ayzora’s cheeks, which are still drying from intermittently crying.  She sits on a log by the fire pit, placing down a few pieces of the wood Wyll had freshly cut the day before and littering them with kindling. 

Near-silent footsteps appear behind her, catching her attention.

Astarion. 

She wipes her face of any remaining tears as the footsteps stop.  Determined to talk about anything other than what weighs on her mind, she speaks first:  “Do you think you’ve adjusted to it yet?” Ayzora asks as the now-revealed Astarion sits down on the log behind her.

The dry leaves finally catch, quickly consumed by flame.

She moves to sit and take up the unoccupied space beside him.

His eyes follow her, head tilted just an inch. “To what?”

“The sun,” she answers, turning her face upwards with closed eyes to bask in the warmth. Silently, she thanks the Dawnfather for allowing her under his light, even if Corellon never will.

“Gods, no,” he scoffs. “200 years of habits aren’t broken so quickly.” He sighs, and continues with a low voice, “especially with a… temporary change. But I’m never one to turn down gifts.” His eyes flicker to her neck. As wonderful as the light of the sun is, its warmth hardly holds a candle to the gift of warm blood filling the mouth of a hungry vampire.

“Gifts?”

“Oh, yes,” he says, as if suddenly remembering something, “I had the strangest dream last night.  There was a visitor promising me protection, and all sorts of delicious powers from the parasites in our heads.”

Her expression sobers as she looks at him.

“Given our shared affliction, I suppose you had a similar dream…?”

She says nothing.

“No need to be shy about it, darling.  This is a good thing.  Now we can see what these tadpoles can do for us.”

She hums, rolling her head back towards the sky.  “Enjoy it while it lasts. The scales will always balance in time.”  Her mind wanders to Orcus’ first promise- the one she sold herself for- as her stare drifts to the distance.

“Oh, I plan on it,” he purrs.

But there is no response from Ayzora.  She is returned to the fog of her mind.

The fire crackles.  Astarion watches the blaze consume the wood, turning brown bark to white ash.

And Ayzora’s mind wanders.

He came to her in a dream. “A life for a life,” he said. If she destroyed the Raven Queen and her temple, he would grant her the power to bring back Laz. Ayzora could finally give her adoptive father, Zedd, the wife he had missed so dearly; she could finally pay him back for everything he had done for her.

So she accepted his offer. Ayzora, Remus, and Ryon- The Shrouded Triad, he called them- infiltrated the temple and tore it to the ground, taking the goddess of death with it.

Laz’s body laid in a tomb beneath the temple. Ayzora resurrected the woman, introducing herself briefly before bringing her home to Zedd. The reunion was- still is- the happiest day of Ayzora’s life. The family she had so desperately craved was hers at last.

It wasn’t until Ayzora had seen Orcus’ symbol glimmer and fade with necrotic magic on Laz’s forehead that she questioned what she had done. She suddenly wondered about the conditions of his gift of resurrection; the hidden cost of the deal beginning to surface.

If only she had stopped there.

“You were there, that day,” Astarion notes softly, “when the nautiloid reached Baldur’s Gate.”

Ayzora is wrenched from her thoughts, jarred by the sudden shift in topic.  Shit .  “You remember?”

“I remember your gods-awful cloak.”

Ayzora laughs breathily.

Silence returns to the air.

Astarion shifts, his eyes still trained on the orange glow of the dying campfire. He tosses in a few more bits of kindling, encouraging the flames to grow a couple of inches taller.

“You stopped,” she finally says.

“Hm?”

“When you saw me. You stopped.”

“As did you, if I’m not mistaken,” he quips, lifting his head to look at her.

“Well-”

“Why were you there?”

Every muscle in Ayzora’s body snaps to attention, tensing together and leaving her frozen.

The expression she wears is almost identical to the one he saw that morning. He’s seen her flustered, sure- hells, she could hardly keep her cool the first time he offered her a night of passion- but this was… different.

Her mind buzzes through about a hundred variations of an answer, ranging from blatant lies to softened truths.  She would twist her story, somehow, into something that paints her as far less desperate, but…  He wouldn’t buy it for a moment.  With a deep breath, she gathers her courage and manages to finally speak: “You prayed.”

“What?” His eyes grow wide beneath raised eyebrows.

“To the Raven Queen.  I heard you.”

He shoots up to his feet, taking a step back to gain some space in a suddenly intrusive conversation.  “You were there?”

“No, I-”

Everything crashes down on her at once.  Orcus.  The tadpole.  Astarion.  My damnation.  It’s all falling apart at the seams.   Her perfect posture crumbles before him as she doubles over with her face buried in her hands.

“I used to scry on the temple, and answer prayers on the Raven Queen’s behalf.”

It’s all too much for Astarion to take in- how dare she see him like that, in all his naked desperation.  “Odd choice for the chosen of Orcus,” he digs.

“I am his no more than you are Cazador’s,” she spits, looking up at the elf. Her arms cross over her midsection, clutching her sides in an attempt to soothe the guilt twisting knots in her abdomen. “I-” … wanted to be good again, she finishes silently. She swallows, forcing back tears.

Astarion clenches his jaw at the mention of his master’s name- but he stops himself.  If he snaps now, he loses her.  Good things come to those who wait.   So he waits.

“I wanted to help you.”  It’s a half-hearted admission- there’s so much more to it- but it’s an admission regardless.

He sits back down beside her in a near-collapse.  So someone did hear me.  Someone did come for me.  All this time, Astarion knew he would rot away in the bitterness of his utter abandonment; but now… his heart could rot no longer.  Suddenly, he isn’t alone.  Suddenly, he isn’t invisible.  Suddenly, he isn’t abandoned.

Suddenly, he’s completely screwed.

“And I left,” he whispers in disbelief.  “To think, I almost brought you to…”

“Why didn’t you?” She interrupts, the question burning in the back of her mind all this time finally making its way into words.

He’s taken back by her bold question.  If his heart could still beat, it would race.  “W-Well, it… I thought I’d play savior.”  His eyes darken as he tries to retreat back into the comfort of theatrics.  “Chaos makes for easy prey.”

“The frozen elf wasn’t easy prey?”

“You were-” Astarion begins, but falls silent.  How can anyone reason with the kind of things I was forced to do? How can anyone make sense of what I did to stay sane?   He sighs.  They can’t; so he answers honestly: “You… looked like me.”

Ayzora’s words fall into the abyss.

Her skin is just about as pale as his; her heart just as still.  Her long hair, though straight, is the same silvery white as his curls; her eyes as bright of a strange hue.  He looked at her, and saw himself.  He couldn’t bear to watch Cazador kill him again.

It was a selfish reason, sure, but she couldn’t hold it against him.

It was the same reason she chased after him.  To free a slave from an all-too-powerful master.  To save herself.

All this time, in chasing each other, they were chasing after some distorted echo of self-preservation.

But now, she sees so much more than herself when she looks at him.

She’s terrified.

And gods be damned, so is he.

They both continue to stare at the fire in silence.  What else is there to say?

His prayers didn’t go completely unheard, after all.  And the one who tried to answer them nearly lost her life in the attempt.  Here he was, attempting to lure someone who was already running to him.

She only ever wanted to save herself.  That was all that drove her to this place.  Yet, she finds herself caring more for his future than her own.  No matter how this ends, she would try all over again.  For him.

Her left hand shifts.  Slowly, carefully, it slides just millimeters closer to him.  Reaching for him.  Asking to be held.  Just for now.  Even if it’s all a lie.  She’s okay with that.  He can lie about everything, as long as she can be honest now.

His eyes glance down while his head remains in place.  He watches as her hand turns, exposing her palm.  A hand to hold, if he so chooses.  Small, innocent touch, offering comfort.  It feels… alien.

It’s all a lie.  A plan.

His right hand lifts off his lap.

A plan I perfectly carried out.  A plan she walked right into.

It gently lands atop hers.

It’s a lie.

She squeezes.

Right?

This is cross-posted to my Ao3, @ write-and-wander, so be sure to subscribe to the fic there if you want to see it first and be notified when it updates!

Chapter Four: Decompose

[elliespassagerprincess]

The air is getting crisp fall is coming so a bôa song is definitely needed can you do twilight by them

Twilight - (ellie williams x reader)

hi anon! Your wish is my command! Ugh I wish it was fall where I live, it's literally so fucking hot lmao... I hope you enjoy it <3

this story is based off the song Twilight by Bôa, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are always open, feel free to leave one!

HUGE Warnings: descriptions of violence, murder, death, gore, sadness, small mention of depression and graves (don't read this if you aren't in the right mental state)

Summary: In which you couldn't win Ellie's heart

Authors note: ladies and ladies, the violence is back! Idk man it's been a while since I've written something like this. Remember you are loved <3

Your word and my word and her word is

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

And twilight gives me, an inner sanctity

And you're feeling, and you're hungry for her

And you don't understand it

But you know you haven't planned it

Your feelings and mine are all lonely

And dawn comes you're there lying with me

And you reach out to touch me, but I am in the twilight

You heard Ellie let out a sigh as she continued venting to you about Dina.

Stupid Dina.

Seems like all Ellie could talk about was her.

Why her? Out of all the people on the fucking planet why did it have to be Dina?

"She said "hey Ellie" and she didn't even smile with me! like what the fuck???" Ellie practically yelled with frustration.

You rolled your eyes at Ellie.

"Ellie calm down maybe she had a bad day"

Ellie stopped pacing around the room to look at you.

"Yeah.... you're right! She doesn't hate me she's just tired" Ellie said with a small smile.

You watched as Ellie lowered herself onto your bed and she looked up at you with a shy smile. She reached out her arms in your direction "cuddle?" she asked softly.

You let out a sigh as got into the bed spooning Ellie. She let out a hum of satisfaction.

"Ellie you need to stop doing this"

"doing what?"

you only shook your head and thought: "making me fall in love with you"

"friends don't cuddle" you brought up.

"Friends do" Ellie argued.

"Dina wouldn't like this" you added.

"well Dina isn't here right now" Ellie spoke matter of factly as she snuggled closer to you.

All you did was sigh as you brought your hand up to scratch Ellie's head. She let out a moan and she closed her eyes.

"You are a great friend, you know that?" Ellie spoke through a yawn.

Yeah, you were a great friend.

Your feelings and mine are all holy but,

You know and I know it's untrue because

When day dawns you're there lying with me

And the dawn can fly away

And you know I love you but you know that

There's nothing you can do about it

Because you love her, and you still want me

If I could be her... but I'm not her and she's not me

And you're somewhere different, on a different planet

You loved Ellie. You loved her a little more than a friend should.

Every time you saw her, your heart raced. She made you feel hot by just giving you a smile. Ellie made you feel things. Things you've never felt before.

You loved her.

But you knew she didn't feel the same.

You lay many nights next to Ellie, listening to her complain about Dina who's oblivious to Ellie's feelings.

It hurt you.

Seeing how Ellie always smiled when Dina walked into a room. Seeing how excited Ellie got, every time Dina said something. Every time Dina complimented Ellie, she almost exploded with joy.

It made you sick.

You tried being Dina.

Maybe Ellie would love you if you were someone else.

Maybe it was the way you did your hair? Was it the way you dressed? Was it the way you looked? What made Dina so special?

You tried cutting your hair the same length as Dina. You started dressing like her. You even copied her stupid music taste.

You tried. You tried so fucking hard.

But you could never be her and Ellie would never see you like that.

You knew Ellie loved you. She wanted you, but not in the same way you wanted her.

You were her best friend.

The girl she could go to with her problems, the girl who would help her with her hair and outfits.

You were nothing more than a friend.

You wanted to be Dina and you prayed to the gods that you could become her. But you didn't. You were nothing more than a friend in Ellie's eyes.

You saw how much Ellie's crush on Dina affected her.

How much it hurt her knowing that Dina most probably doesn't feel the same. And you being the amazing friend that you were, you decided to help Ellie.

You made it your mission to get them together.

Even though it hurt you knowing Ellie would never love you, as long as she was happy, you'd be happy too.

That's how you got yourself in your current position. Sitting across Dina in her apartment.

"So" you stared as you took a sip from the orange juice Dina gave you.

"we need to talk"

"about?"

"Ellie" "What about Ellie? Dina asked confused.

"do you have feelings for her?" you asked.

You watched as Dina burst out laughing, you watched as she threw her head back from laughing.

Anger sparked in you.

Why the fuck was she laughing? What's so fucking funny about liking Ellie?

After a while of Dina laughing, she slowed down breathing heavily before she let out a "Why would I like her? She's weird".

You felt your eye twitch before all hell broke loose.

How dare she say that about Ellie?

Your Ellie?

Ellie loved her so much and this is what Dina had to say?

This was the girl Ellie loved. She didn't deserve Ellie. If only she knew the amount of tears Ellie cried for her.

fucking bitch

You leaped from where you were sitting onto Dina, you straddled her as you punch her over and over again.

"How-"

*punch*

"dare-"

*punch*

"you"

*punch*

You don't even know how long you sat on her, and listened to her beg.

"Please" she whimpered as she tried getting you off her.

You eventually got off her breathing heavily as you looked down at your hands.

Your knuckles were bruised, and your hands covered in blood.

Dina's blood.

You looked over at her, seeing her slowly breathing. She didn't move, she didn't even make a sound.

Maybe she was unconscious.

You couldn't even recognize her with all the blood and bruises.

If Dina woke up, she would call the police. She would tell Ellie. Ellie would hate you.

You couldn't let that happen.

You slowly walked back from Dina, as you heard glass shatter. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound.

You saw pieces of glass scattered everywhere. And your orange juice was all over the floor.

Fuck you wanted to drink that.

You slowly bent down to pick up a shard of glass, and you held in your palm.

You walked towards Dina and you slowly pushed the glass into her trachea. You watched as the blood seeped from the wound.

You took a step back, leaving the glass shard in place. The blood dripped all over her throat and clothes, blood came out of her mouth.

Soon after Dina stopped breathing.

You killed her. You fucking killed someone.

You knew you made the right decision by killing Dina, because now you finally had Ellie to yourself.

And you still want it

The inner sanctity

And it's an evil

But the evil is necessary

And you're still hungry for her

And you still want her loving

But she doesn't love you

You watched as Ellie sat next to Dina's grave. She was sobbing.

Why the fuck was she crying over someone who didn't feel anything for her?

After Dina's death Ellie really struggled. She struggled to accept that the girl she loved wasn't here anymore. And what hurt Ellie the most was that Dina never knew.

Dina never knew the love Ellie had for her.

You watched Ellie spiral. You watched how she suffered.

Your plan was get rid of Dina, not the hurt the girl you loved.

Late at night when Ellie would lay in your arms you would sometimes feel regret for what you did. You didn't know it would affect Ellie the way it did, and you never wanted to hurt her. The guilt you felt soon get's replaced with pride when you realize that you got rid of the girl that was only going to hurt Ellie.

You saved Ellie. You saved her from rejection and embarrassment.

You knew she would get over it eventually.

Ellie's life wouldn't stop because her crush died. At some point she'll just have to accept it and you'll be here waiting for her with open arms.

You quietly walked towards Ellie as she sobbed next to Dina's grave, you raised your right hand putting it on her shoulder.

Ellie looked up at you, and in her eyes you could see how broken she was.

"It's ok Ellie" was all you said before she continued to sob into her hands.

You let out a sigh at the sight.

Months after Dina's death you realized that Ellie wasn't going to forget so easily.

You watched as she printed out pictures of her and Dina, and she placed it all over her apartment. You watched as she went to Dina's grave every week.

You listened to Ellie cry almost every night.

Even though you knew Dina didn't feel anything for her, Ellie still wanted her. Ellie still craved Dina.

Yes, she got affection from you, but you were never going to be enough.

All she wanted was Dina.

And you knew in the years to come Ellie wouldn't be able to move on and forget.

Even though you were there for her through everything. Even though you showed her nothing but love, the only person Ellie ever wanted was Dina.

She wanted Dina's love. Dina's care.

You were nothing but a friend. The realization made you sick.

You did everything for her.

You even killed for her.

But you'll never be Dina.

All you could was comfort her and hope, she'll one day feel the same.

[silentium-symphony]

Book Buddies II (Link x Reader)

(a/n) hello! here is the second chapter of Book Buddies! if you haven't read the first chapter, please click here. i hope you enjoy!

cw: afab!reader, researcher!reader, a nice day out w link :), crowded places, escaping to nature, gentle looks and touches exchanged under the moon, first kiss vibes <3, quickly followed by a steamy makeout session heh

wc: 3.8k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Since that eventful night, Link at the library had grown to become an increasingly common sight. It was like clockwork, really. Sometime after lunch, you can expect to see a mat of blonde poke through the door followed by a pair of bright eyes that would smile when it met yours.

He'd often come by to return a book he had loaned and ask for more recommendations (which you happily supplied). Within a matter of months, the bookish Captain had worked through most of your list and had even shown you some goodies to read. It warmed your heart having a lil' book buddy; you couldn't remember the last time someone was able to keep up with your... fiery discussions of things that have occurred in your books.

Three knocks rapt your door. Your eyes slit open, wincing immediately at the stream of light conveniently placed right on your face. What time was it...?

"Y... Yes? Who is it?" You yawned through your fingers, clawing uselessly at that one itch just out of reach on your back.

"It's Link."

Your senses snapped awake and your head swiveled to your mirror, which proudly displayed the ornate bird's nest growing on the side of your head. You fumbled out of bed, hissed at the cold the wooden floor shot through your feet, and drowsily waddled to your dresser.

"J-Just a second!" You croaked, wincing at your dry throat. One swig of water later, you were combing your hair and slipping on a shirt that was at least better than what you went to bed with. One last look in the mirror and you clicked the thick door open, careful of not slamming it right in your visitor's face.

"Link? What are you doing this early in the morning? I'm trying to sleep..." You whined. All drowsy discomforts took a backseat when you saw the grave expression painted on his face.

"Her Highness told me that I am to be deployed soon..." He trailed off, brows furrowing deeper. "I'm afraid I can't give more details past that."

This wasn't a total surprise, given his occupation and everything, but it was still... numbing to hear. His words bounced around your head as you began to process what that would mean for the two of you. Your world wasn't crashing and burning, sure, but it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that some of the vibrant colors Link injected into your life have begun to drain out. In the end, all you could muster was a quiet,

"... Oh."

"So... Since we may not see each other for a while, would you like to..." He swallowed thickly. "GotoCastleTownwithme?"

"Would I... huh?" You blinked, rubbing your eyes as if that would help you hear better. "I'm sorry, can you say that again?"

He froze, silently recalculating what the odds were of you saying yes, but knowing you wouldn't settle for silence he tried again.

"Would you... Like to go to Castle Town with me?"

Being asked out on a date first thing in the morning was not what you expected when you tumbled out of bed.

By the Captain no less.

You had dreamt of this moment for months and it took every fiber of your being to channel your inner fangirling into a calm, graceful smile. But the moment he left, you knew you were due for a good ol' cathartic scream into your pillow.

"I would love to."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The moment training had wrapped up for the day, he bolted to the gates, giddy to finally have this time with you. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he had been aching to take you out for a pleasant stroll through town, going through the market's different stalls and showing you his favorite spots to relax. He's not blind to the effects work has on your body and psyche, and he hoped that your stresses could be washed away with these safe spaces the same way it cleansed him.

A flash of (H/C) in a crowd of similarly-dressed scholars bagged his attention and his eyes flitted this way and that. His heart soared seeing your demure figure moving down the steps of Hyrule Castle and one look at him almost got you running.

You waved goodbye to your coworkers and with a hop, skip, and a step, graced your man companion with your presence.

"Hey! Thanks for meeting up with me. Have you been waiting long?"

He shook his head.

"Perfect! Well, ready to go?"

He patted his rupee pouch and gave you a thumbs up. You giggled and waited for the iron gates to be heaved open.

Before long, you were traipsing down the streets of Castle Town, positively glowing. He was just happy to be present with you. He would listen to your latest findings with great interest, listen to whatever book you happened to get your hands on, listen to all your ramblings and random intrusive thoughts you had, and just... Listen. He wasn't much of a talker and you've made it exceptionally clear to him that he could stop you at any point, but he preferred to just listen.

"--and after that, she intentionally rammed her wagon into a tree! Y'know, that was the first time I ever read a book like that. I highly recommend it."

He hummed, his eyes shining like they had just captured heaven's highest stars.

"I've heard," he began slowly, his voice still not used to all the talking he's had to do recently, "from the mill ladies that your friend's favorite author is set to complete her next book in a month or two."

His wriggling eyebrows were immediately met with a jab to the ribs.

"Woah, really?!" A spark of excitement in your eyes lightly contrasted the playful grimace splaying on the Captain's features. "That's--! Um, ahem. I'm sure she'd be very pleased to hear that. I'll let her know... later."

He rolled his eyes and huffed; you laughed, reaching up and messing with his hair. You didn't notice the way he froze or the way he all but stopped breathing, and you definitely didn't notice the heat blooming all throughout his body while your attention was nabbed elsewhere.

"Oh! Can we look at that stall real quick?"

A faint nod and you were already bounding towards an ornately decorated sign that read "Jeweler."

"Hello, hello! Welcome to my humble little shop!" You eyed the... eclectic decor curiously and made a polite smile to the merchant. "Has anything caught your fancy? Everything you see here was painstakingly, artfully crafted by the finest jewelers in all of Hyrule! Some of my own personal works have made their way into this collection, heh..."

You half-listened to the merchant as he droned on and on about how he incurred every item you see before you, and you nodded every now and then to feign acknowledgment. Glimmers of bronze, silver, and gold dazzled you until your head spun. Jewels and stones encrusted in delicate veins of metal swelled your heart with want, but you stayed your hand once your eyes drifted to the tiny numbers set before each piece.

You were a mere researcher of Hyrule, not the king himself.

Realizing this whole shop was way out of your tax bracket, you awkwardly scooted closer toward the exit, making sure to eye everything you saw on your way out for politeness' sake. As you neared freedom and your friend, the most delicate piece of metalwork you had ever laid eyes on locked your gaze in a vice grip.

The dainty necklace's simple, elegant features starkly contrasted with the cacophony of gaudy golds and polished bronze--a mere sliver of the moon in a sea of gold and copper stars that vied for your attention. Your fingers grazed the crescent moon that dangled at the apex of the thin chain while a small, fond smile played at your lips. The three small stars by the celestial body fleshed the necklace into a gorgeous piece that didn't need to have metal bits sticking this way and that to make a statement.

"Ah, you have quite the eye for design! That piece right there was carefully crafted by yours truly! It can be yours today if you so desire!"

Your thoughtful hums turned to disappointment as your eyes once again rested on the price. It was by far one of the most expensive items here and dejection weighed your shoulders.

"Thank you, these truly are gorgeous pieces, but I must be on my way."

You drifted out of the stall and into the streets teeming with life around you. The crowd had gotten noticeably thicker as bodies rammed into you; there was hardly any room to breathe.

"Man, that stall sure was expensive, huh Li-- Link?" Your head whipped this way and that. "Link?!"

Your eyes scanned the conglomerate of bodies crowding about you. The sights, scents, and sensations of Castle Town were increased tenfold and you fought the crowd for respite off to the side. Lightly panting, you immediately went back to scanning the crowd for your lost companion.

"Link! Link!"

How long has it been since you lost him? Where was the last time you even saw him?

That would have been over there...

You threw a weak glance to an arbitrary point on your left, mentally reprimanding yourself for your carelessness. You thought he was right behind you! Did he not follow you to the stall? Did the crowd start picking up when you left? Did he get swept away? He can be anywhere at this point! Gods, now you've abandoned Link on your day out and left him to fend for himself against Castle Town's inhabitants!

A simple tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts and you spun around, almost knocking the both of you off your feet from the way your bodies clashed against the other.

"Link!"

A warm smile adorned his features and he nodded at you. You clasped your hands together and held them up to your chest, shaking slightly.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you like that! I thought you were right behind me, so I just bounded right over to the stall... I'll be more careful next time, I promise!"

He shook his head, that gentle smile not leaving his lips for a second. He offered his hand to you and eyed the crowd. He must be wanting to leave too. You gladly took hold of him and he turned off to the side, lacing between colorful tents and wooden stalls and slipping in and out of the crowd. Your eyes were trained on his figure as he skillfully bobbed and weaved through different bodies, effortlessly leading you through Castle Town.

You eventually rested on his hand, dutifully meshed with your own. You felt your cheeks grow hot and for once, you were relieved to have dozens of hot, sweaty bodies rubbing up against you lest he turn around and wonder why your face was a sweltering red.

You assumed he was making his way back to the castle, but a sudden left down a back alley and a veer off to the right opened into a clearing untouched by the encroaches of civilization. The vast openness of Hyrule Field spread across the horizon, wrapping its infinite plains and forests around your overstimulated self. You filled your lungs with the deepest, crispest breath you ever drew and let out a hefty sigh. The Captain did the same.

"This is so much better than that cramped market. Thanks for getting us outta there."

Turns out he wasn't done escorting you as he led you further into the wilds; the sweet melodies of songbirds and the wind making passage through trees cleansed the jolting bustle of Castle Town from your ears. You saw a clearing up ahead that opened to a grassy, flowery meadow with a crystal lake at its center.

A few steps later, you were washed in the gentle glow of the setting sun; crickets have joined in on nature's nightly symphony in conjunction with the scurry of small mammals rushing through thicket and brush.

After aestheticizing for a moment, he turned to you and his grip on your fingers loosened. You both pulled away, your fingers wrought with the absence of warmth you had been growing accustomed to. Eyes cautiously avoiding each other's gaze found shelter in the gentle swaying of sunlit trees and the long shadows they cast on the grass.

"It's so peaceful here... Do you come here often?"

He 'hmph'ed in confirmation and threw his arms above his head, scraping the sky with his fingertips in a futile effort to rake the stars.

You inched closer to the clear pool and sat down, rolling individual blades of grass and wildflowers between your fingers; your loyal knight followed suit. A comfortable silence fell over the both of you and you gazed dreamily at your semi-quavering surroundings reflected in the lake.

"Thank you for today, Link... It was fun."

The gentlest breeze cooed through your hair, pulling a few strands with it in a lighthearted dance. The sun caught in your quivering lashes and the dimpled smile on your plump lips could only be described as simply divine. Link's throat bobbed up and down and whatever passive thought was drifting through his mind dissipated immediately.

Oh Hylia, you were breathtaking.

He didn't dare look away from your glory, hoping to bask in your soft gaze for as long as you allowed him. His fingers fumbled with his tunic, with the grass, with the hem of his pants, with anything he could get his hands on and you giggled at his restlessness.

"You okay, Cap?"

"... Mm."

A surge of boldness shot through your chest as you found yourself scooting closer to the man. He positioned himself to make way for you until you slotted yourself just inches away from him. His heat radiated onto your skin and you felt your muscles lax out the tension it had been holding.

"I will be leaving soon." He whispered, streaking the serenity with hints of melancholy. "It will be a long and arduous mission far away from here... I do not know when I'll be back."

"... I know." Neither of your gazes met. "I know."

The sun, exhausted from its long journey across the sky, began its customary plummet past the horizon, calling its nightly sister to take its place as the provider of lesser light. The moon’s ascension to the celestial throne was slow and deliberate; the transition of powers brushed the sky with a rich indigo and vibrant marigold, marrying the two hues into perfect harmony. Wispy cirrus and scarlet stratus stood as witnesses to this otherworldly unification of colors, and both of you acted as passive guests to this ritual of dusk and twilight.

"But I'll wait for you." You say at last, turning to him. "No matter how long it takes, I'll always be waiting for you."

Surprised at the resolve in your own voice, your gaze faltered back onto his hands. His warm, calloused, steady hands. Your fingers itched to feel them again, but your still body betrayed your desires to hold and be held. What in the world were you saying? You weren't even his to begin with.

It was Link's turn to look at you now, heart seizing and throat drying. Forlornity tugged the corner of his lip into a somber smile and he moved his face closer to yours. He was close enough to feel your breath hitch (his did as well), and the proximity forced you to look up.

"I'll come back to you. I promise."

Your mind blanked as your arms found the back of his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace. You kept your contact light--fleeting even, in case he wanted to pull away. But he did no such thing, instead sinking deeper into you and wrapping you up in a pair of muscled arms. Suddenly all the cold, touch-starved nights of longing didn't feel as empty anymore. Suddenly all the pining, all the directionless love you fostered for the other had some place to go. Although you didn't hear those three magical words, his tightening limbs were all the confirmation you needed.

"I have a surprise for you." He murmured into your hair, pulling away slightly. His hands fiddled in his pants pocket and a streak of joy gleamed across his face. "Close your eyes."

You did as you were told, steep in disbelief and excitement that he had actually gotten you something. The image of that necklace from earlier shot across your mind, but you internally scoffed as the price followed shortly after.

Stop kidding yourself, there's no way he would have gotten--

"Open your eyes."

Dangling in front of your face was a thin chain pulled down by a crescent moon and its three starry companions.

"Wait... That's..."

"I saw you looking at it earlier," he rubbed his neck sheepishly, "so I bought it."

"Link, that was hundreds of ru--"

"Don't worry about it." His lips were pulled ear to ear. "Do you like it?"

"I love it!" Happy tears shamelessly leaked from your eyes. "Oh gods Link, I love it!"

You sniveled and trained your eyes on the pretty little thing and Link gently grasped your shoulders to turn you. A pleasant shiver shimmied down your spine as his fingers traced the back of your neck, gingerly pushing your locks out of the way. You pinned it up to aid him further.

Link took his time clasping the accessory around your neck, drinking in the way your bare skin looked in the moonlight. Dedicating the scene in front of him to memory, he hummed and you turned to face him. He never knew how effective a simple piece of metal could be at enhancing your already ethereal qualities; his heart melted and pooled at his feet.

"Beautiful..."

You shrunk under his lovestruck gaze and, in a flurry of millions of racing thoughts all melding together, pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

If the man wasn't already reeling, he certainly was now. Every single gear in his head ceased execution; he was wholly at the mercy of your little chortles, your bashful smiles, and batting lashes. Hylia only knows how quickly he would cast himself into the sea should you say the word, or how happily he would steal heaven's brightest luminaries should you desire a matching ring made of the North Star. He stooped closer, practically face-to-face with you.

"May I," he said at last, "have the honor of kissing you?"

His hot breath tickled your cheeks and you found yourself giggling at his endearing politeness.

"Of course."

His face closed in on yours, his breath fanning a deep fire from the skin it touched. Hooded eyes flitted to hot, parted lips and they sank lower as he drew closer; you followed suit, your eyes fluttering closed on your knight's beautiful face. A heated softness pressed tenderly against your lips, melting any and all tension into nothingness. Your lips engaged in a clumsy, heartfelt dance as his lips moved awkwardly, cautiously, lovingly, against your own. Your heart was practically palpitating when you felt a pair of hands sneak onto your face.

He drew back for the briefest of seconds before his lips found yours again and again, each kiss more ravenous than the last. The whine that escaped your wet, parted lips incited something deep within him and his lips connected with yours in a merciless onslaught, leaving your head spinning and your heart wanting more, more, more. A hand fell to the small of your lower back and he drew you closer, your bodies flushed tightly against the other as deeper passions bloomed.

You felt yourself sink lower, lower, lower until the grass tickled the curve of your ear and skilled, battle-worn arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel like porcelain. His lips moved on from yours and traced the outline of your jawbone with the lightest of movements, leaving a fiery trail in his wake. Your senses were wracked with newfound pleasures, his hands tightening in your own as he found solace in the crook of your neck. He peppered the soft, unmarked skin with butterfly pecks and kisses that thinly veiled his growing desires, suckling the skin just enough to send electricity through your whole body but just short of leaving a beautiful, bluish-purple welt (for he did not know if you wanted to be marked by him just yet). Your moans and sharp breaths intertwined heatedly, scattering your thoughts into a frenzy and numbing, blissful oblivion all at once.

His lips found yours once again, starved and craving for your warmth. One final, deep press into your lips before he pulled away with a pop, pressing his forehead against yours. A deep laugh rumbled in his chest.

"My apologies... It seems I have gotten carried away there..." He closed his eyes, stilling his rapidly beating heart lest it explode in his chest. Gods, he wanted more. More. One look at your pleading eyes almost made him come undone. Lilting lashes and blown-out pupils conveyed all the pent-up desire you've harbored for the man before you. He sucked in a breath and smoothed the mess he made of your hair, smiling tenderly.

"If you would like to continue, perhaps we should head somewhere more... comfortable."

Truthfully, the fact that you were in the literal wilderness may have slipped your mind just now. Your eyes went to scan for any body-shaped outlines hiding among the tree line, suddenly feeling very exposed. He saw the cautious look you shot at the trees and he couldn't help the laugh that spilled out of him.

"Are you shy, love?"

"W-Well it's just...!" Your eyes flew shut, unable to stand Link's teasing gaze any longer.

"Just... what?" His voice and face lowered into your neck. A deep moan thundered against your skin, sending butterflies knocking into your ribcage.

"Don't tease me like that..." Please keep teasing me like that--

A full belly laugh escaped the man. He pressed a quick kiss right at the junction of your shoulder and neck (his new safe space aw) and he pulled away to drink in your embarrassed, pleasured, wrecked expression.

"I've wanted this for so long..." An imperceptible smile bloomed. "Ever since I saw you grimacing at that scroll."

"You saw that?!" You shot back mortified, ears aflame. His hands shot up, waving them back and forth in protest.

"I-It was cute, I promise! I thought... You were so cute when you made that face..."

His slurred mumble made you want to ruffle his hair and hold him close whilst squealing into his chest.

"In fact," he hummed lowly, "it made me wonder what other kinds of faces you can make..."

"LINK!"

[lolathestoryteller]

This is a fun one I thought up. A jily lives Christmas AU, where young Harry thinks his mom cheating on dad with Santa(but plot twist, it’s James dressed as Santa😄)

*I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus

Underneath the mistletoe last night

She didn't see me creep

Down the stairs to have a peep

She thought that I was tucked up

In my bedroom, fast asleep*

Prompt:

“*yawn* what is those sounds? A burglar?? I should warn daddy!*

*goes quietly downstairs and peeks*

‘W what? Mummy is kissing Santa?? Daddy will be so sad! Better tell him tomorrow morning’

Hiya there Anon! Sorry for my late reply, had a busy week! Anyways, this one made me smile haha — I hope it makes you smile too! :)

Potter Manor; the following morning…

« Hey! There’s my little man! » James calls out as he sees Harry walking into the kitchen.

He pulls back the chair next to his, inviting the six year old to sit down. « Sleep well, Snitch? » he asks, gently ruffling Harry’s messy curls.

Harry looks down onto his still empty plate, not meeting James’s eyes as he says very seriously: « Daddy…I got to tell you something bad. »

James raises a suspicious brow at his son, leaning closer to him. « Something bad, huh? » he asks, not entirely sure whether it’d be actually bad or rather just cheeky.

You really never know with Harry — he is the son of a Marauder after all.

« Yeah, » Harry replies, his voice barely above a whisper, before he finally looks up to meet James’s eyes. « But I don’t want you to be sad… »

Alright, this sounds like the bad bad type then.

James scoots his chair closer to Harry’s, bending low to be on eye level with his son. « What happened, Harry? » he asks, getting genuinely worried.

Harry bites at his lower lip, in the exact same way James has seen another person do whenever she’s nervous — it makes him smile a bit despite his worry.

Seems he’s just as much his Mother’s son.

« I saw Mummy last night…I— I thought I heard a noise, so I went downstairs because what if it was a burglar…? » Harry explains with all the typical childlike imagination.

James shakes his head at his son’s cheek. « You went downstairs past bedtime? » he asks with a falsely stern tone. « Better not tell Mummy that. »

« No, but Dad, I saw Mummy kissing Santa last night! » Harry suddenly blurts, his green eyes wide and his little hands now grasping onto James’s forearm.

Oh, that.

Seems they haven’t been as quiet as he’d thought.

James tries his very best not to start laughing, but when in that exact moment, Lily enters the kitchen, his resolve completely melts away. « Did you? » he asks, chuckling at Harry’s incredulous expression. « Did Mummy kiss Santa? »

He meets Lily’s confused eyes, which suddenly glimmer with embarrassment. « What? » she asks, looking from James to Harry and back. « James! Why would you—»

« Seems our son saw you and Santa beneath the Mistletoe last night, Lil. » James cuts her off amusedly. « Care to explain? »

Lily’s eyes narrow in a way that tells him he’d just dug his own grave, though James thinks it might have been worth the laugh.

« Harry, Mummy did not kiss Santa. » she explains with all the patience she can muster as she crouches down in front of the six year old.

Harry crosses his arms doubtfully. « But I saw you. » he replies matter of factly, causing Lily to sigh and James to bite back another laugh. « You said you loved his beard and then you kissed him! On the lips! »

James thinks despite her serious facade, Lily’s just as amused by this as he is. He decides to finally help her out of this, rather hilarious, situation. « That wasn’t Santa, » he explains, causing Harry to look up at him confusedly. « That was just Daddy dressed up as Santa. »

James thinks he’s never seen Harry look so flabbergasted before. « Why did you dress up as Santa? » he asks as though that was the most ridiculous thing ever. « Santa’s like, way older too. » he grimaces, turning back to look at Lily, utterly confused.

She chuckles discreetly into her palm, but James only smirks — he’s definitely going to sleep on the sofa for this one. « Well, Snitch, what can I say…your Mum just has a thing for older men. »

« James Potter! »

[ttheggrimrreaper]

Hey hey hey

Can I request reader walking up the mountain (by herself) in her town at night and finding two graves she cleans them up a little bit only to find out it's her boyfriends (gagamaru) parents and gagamaru finds her looking at them saddened and she basically has him live with her

Thank you for being a writer you are wonderful and beautiful keep up the amazing work ❤️🌹🤩

I changed this up a little bit, mainly because I don't like it when strangers clean strangers graves. I find it disrespectful and if I saw my boyfriend or girlfriend or S/O cleaning my parents grave I would be extremely uncomfortable. However this does not mean your wrong for feeling that it's okay to clean strangers graves, this is just my personal opinion!! I hope you don't mind, I only changed it up a little.

Gagamaru x Fem reader! (I assume you want a female because you used 'her')

You yawned as you walked, hood pulled up over your head. You had left your tiny home, and boyfriend, for some fresh air while he showered. Your eyes looked down, you really should head back soon, after all, you were going to soon fall asleep.

Turning around, you used a different path then the one you came from, yawning again. Through the graveyard, although, this late at night, a pair of tombstones caught your eye. Soft and gentle lights illuminated the walkway, but what caught your eye was the sleeping willow tree that hung over them, almost creating a curtain for them to hide from the world.. if only slightly.

You groaned as you bent down slightly to duck under the willow tree, looking over to the paired tombstones, kept in perfect condition. Rubbing your eyes before seeing a familiar name.

'Gagamaru'

Your boyfriends surname. Meaning these... We're his parents. You frowned softly, eyes softening as you lowered yourself to the ground. Well... You always wanted to meet his parents? Even if you already knew they were dead before you got with Gin.

"umm.... Hi?" You started with a awkward chuckle that lead off into more silence. "I uh,,, well, I suppose I should start with introducing myself.. my name is Y/n L/n!" You smiled to the tombs, the trees leaves swayed as though waving to you.

"I am dating your son! He lives in my house, in a separate bedroom don't worry! Ah, well he did live in a separate bedroom at first... But now we are going steady for... Hmmm around a year? I have it written down somewhere... But he's moved into my bedroom and the guest bedroom is now a storage room.." you explained. It was silly, trying to feed whatever fantasy you had of them actually liking you. Maybe they would have! Maybe they would not have... But it would have been nice to know. "Umm.. I want to be a teacher when I grow up! Or maybe a doctor? Something with surprises ya know? My parents like your son, He's really funny and sweet. Soft and gentle with his words and touches, just overall perfect. Even if his eyes scare me sometimes with how wide they are!"

"I always liked to pretend that one day, in a world where you.... Mm. Where Gagamaru still was with you, that I would come over for dinner, the first time you all would meet me! It would be awkward at first yeah, but by the time everyone sat down we would be giggling and I would pull out the pie I made for dessert! I can't really make a pie,,, but Gin said you both liked pie.. and I would try my best" you sniffled, although these weren't your parents.., they could have been. Thats what was hurting you.. the could haves. The what ifs.. the possibilities...

"they would have liked that" you heard a voice from behind you, wiping your nose as you looked over. Gagamaru moved to sit next to you hair still slightly wet from his shower. "I would have liked it too.... They would have liked you."

"I hope so" you nodded. Leaning against him. You two both looked at the tomb stones... A married couple that died before they could meet their daughter... Shame huh? Well, in many stories spirits will find ways to reach the ones they loved. And it was no secret about how this sleeping willow tree seemed to appear over night....., a willow tree that always swayed towards you when you walked by it.. you just never noticed.

[quillheel]

CHARACTER AESTHETIC — BOLD /ITALICS WHAT APPLIES & REPOST

tagged by: @rebellionhearted , thank you sm!!!!!! <3 <3

tagging: @tenebriism / @tendercoded / @leuvspell / @gloryseized / @finalfronticr / @dreamjumps / @abyssembraced / @somnium-led / @stellaxincubo / @cicxdas / @adventuroushero / @playedbetter and anyone wearing glasses or a hair accessory today! multi's, do as thy wilt! do w/e muses u want!

SOUNDS.

tinkling of piano keys / the click of a lock / an engine starting, stalling / sinful whispers / stifled sobbing / the rattle of death / alarm blaring / a siren call / spanish guitar strumming / loud laughter at midnight / banshee screeching / drunk hiccuping / the giggle of a child / rolling thunder / disdainful chuckling / bones creaking / carefree whistling / singing off key / flesh hitting concrete / white noise / a mirror cracking / laboured breathing / a groan of pain / waves lapping at the shore / the roar of a lion / pages turning / swords clashing / deep humming / birds chirping / dial tone / tongue popping / fingers tapping a surface / crystals breaking / music turned up to the limit / raindrops on a roof / angry yelling / yawning at noon / horns going off / ravens talking / bubblegum bursting / splashing water / teakettle squeal / militia drums / wolves howling / slow, sarcastic clapping / soprano notes / whispering pleas / gregorian chants / mournful cries

VISUALS.

filled notebooks / dogeared books / clean shaves / empty stares / sleeping at a desk / the witching hour / driving all night / restless tides / broken windows / coffee any time / freshly baked goods / bonfires / lounging felines / circles under your eyes / bedhead / tangling in the sheets / leather jackets / paint stains / music sheets / too many tabs to find the music / weary brows / card games / messy ponytails / strained smiles / unsent texts / heart on your sleeve / slow dancing in the rain / star gazing / torn jeans / piles of clothes / filled bookshelves / hurricanes / chapped lips / cliff diving / the lights in venice / stolen kisses / poet shirts / half melted candles / empty coffee mugs / hot tea / unlaced boots / shameless flirting / too young to be so old / laced fingers / eyes in the trees / bloody knuckles / french letters / neon lights / ivy covered balconies

SCENTS.

burnt leaves / turkish coffee / spiced rum / moss / vanilla beans / freshly cut grass / decay / sea salt / strawberries and cream / cinnamon / honey / copper / pineapple / wet dog / pine needles / wood shavings / rainsoaked bark / something sharp, indefinable / Russian tea / dandelions / squeezed limes / Italian wine / freshly laundered clothes / coming rain / hardtack and gruel / roasting flesh / something cloying in the chest / ichor / lillies in spring / pollen / damp clothes / meatpies / greasy coins / curdled milk / leather / bone marrow / wet cement / ricecakes / open paint cans / cocoa leaves / tar / apples / sandlewood cologne / orchids / molded onions / cheap perfume / mistletoe / rubber on fire / grave dirt / old books / new books / melting plastic / roses / poison oak / seacucumbers / peppermint handcream

SOUNDS.

tinkling of piano keys / the click of a lock / an engine starting, stalling / sinful whispers / stifled sobbing / the rattle of death / alarm blaring / a siren call / spanish guitar strumming / loud laughter at midnight / banshee screeching / drunk hiccuping / the giggle of a child / rolling thunder / disdainful chuckling / bones creaking / carefree whistling / singing off key / flesh hitting concrete / white noise / a mirror cracking / laboured breathing / a groan of pain / waves lapping at the shore / the roar of a lion / pages turning / swords clashing / deep humming / birds chirping / dial tone / tongue popping / fingers tapping a surface / crystals breaking / music turned up to the limit / raindrops on a roof / angry yelling / yawning at noon / horns going off / ravens talking / bubblegum bursting / splashing water / teakettle squeal / militia drums / wolves howling / slow, sarcastic clapping / soprano notes / whispering pleas / gregorian chants / mournful cries

VISUALS.

filled notebooks / dogeared books / clean shaves / empty stares / sleeping at a desk / the witching hour / driving all night / restless tides / broken windows / coffee any time / freshly baked goods / bonfires / lounging felines / circles under your eyes / bedhead / tangling in the sheets / leather jackets / paint stains / music sheets / too many tabs to find the music / weary brows / card games / messy ponytails / strained smiles / unsent texts / heart on your sleeve / slow dancing in the rain / star gazing / torn jeans / piles of clothes / filled bookshelves / hurricanes / chapped lips / cliff diving / the lights in venice / stolen kisses / poet shirts / half melted candles / empty coffee mugs / hot tea / unlaced boots / shameless flirting / too young to be so old / laced fingers / eyes in the trees / bloody knuckles / french letters / neon lights / ivy covered balconies

SCENTS.

burnt leaves / turkish coffee / spiced rum / moss / vanilla beans / freshly cut grass / decay / sea salt / strawberries and cream / cinnamon / honey / copper / pineapple / wet dog / pine needles / wood shavings / rainsoaked bark / something sharp, indefinable / Russian tea / dandelions / squeezed limes / Italian wine / freshly laundered clothes / coming rain / hardtack and gruel / roasting flesh / something cloying in the chest / ichor / lillies in spring / pollen / damp clothes / meatpies / greasy coins / curdled milk / leather / bone marrow / wet cement / ricecakes / open paint cans / cocoa leaves / tar / apples / sandlewood cologne / orchids / molded onions / cheap perfume / mistletoe / rubber on fire / grave dirt / old books / new books / melting plastic / roses / poison oak / seacucumbers / peppermint handcream

[frvckles]

CHARACTER AESTHETIC — Oliver Charlton. BOLD / ITALICIZE what applies.

SOUNDS

tinkling of piano keys / the click of a lock / an engine starting, stalling / sinful whispers / stifled sobbing / the rattle of death / alarm blaring / a siren call / spanish guitar strumming / loud laughter at midnight / banshee screeching / drunk hiccuping / the giggle of a child / rolling thunder / disdainful chuckling / bones creaking / carefree whistling / singing off key / flesh hitting concrete / white noise / a mirror cracking / laboured breathing / a groan of pain / waves lapping at the shore / the roar of a lion / pages turning / swords clashing / deep humming / birds chirping / dial tone / tongue popping / fingers tapping a surface / crystals breaking / music turned up to the limit / raindrops on a roof / angry yelling / yawning at noon / horns going off / ravens talking / bubblegum bursting / splashing water / teakettle squeal / militia drums / wolves howling / slow, sarcastic clapping / soprano notes / whispering pleas / gregorian chants / mournful cries.

VISUALS

filled notebooks / dogeared books / clean shaves / empty stares / sleeping at a desk / the witching hour / driving all night / restless tides / broken windows / coffee any time / freshly baked goods / bonfires / lounging felines / circles under your eyes / bedhead / tangling in the sheets / leather jackets / paint stains / music sheets / too many tabs to find the music / weary brows / card games / messy ponytails / strained smiles / unsent texts / heart on your sleeve / slow dancing in the rain / star gazing / torn jeans / piles of clothes / filled bookshelves / hurricanes / chapped lips / cliff diving / the lights in venice / stolen kisses / poet shirts / half melted candles / empty coffee mugs / hot tea / unlaced boots / shameless flirting / too young to be so old / laced fingers / eyes in the trees / bloody knuckles / french letters / neon lights / ivy covered balconies

SCENTS

burnt leaves / turkish coffee / spiced rum / moss / vanilla beans / freshly cut grass / decay / sea salt / strawberries and cream / cinnamon / honey / copper / pineapple / wet dog / pine needles / wood shavings / rainsoaked bark / something sharp, indefinable / Russian tea / dandelions / squeezed limes / Italian wine / freshly laundered clothes / coming rain / hardtack and gruel / roasting flesh / something cloying in the chest / ichor / lillies in spring / pollen / damp clothes / meatpies / greasy coins / curdled milk / leather / bone marrow / wet cement / ricecakes / open paint cans / cocoa leaves / tar / apples / sandlewood cologne / orchids / molded onions / cheap perfume / mistletoe / rubber on fire / grave dirt / old books / new books / melting plastic / roses / poison oak / seacucumbers / peppermint.

tagged by : @joshosis ♥w♥ tagging : @spiriitum ( peter or trevor ! ), @fiftccnth , @biosurvive , @alllonsy , @b4didea ( amy or yaz ! )