#write-and-wander

[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!

[bluelockmaniac]

thinking about how your husband changes drastically when he’s had just a little too much to drink. his faint, whiny hiccups would escape his quivering lips, filling your ears with his intoxication as he leans against you. he reaches out to play with your hair, gently tugging at the strands and trailing undirected kisses along them as you bite your lip to suppress your giggles. he then brings his unsteady hands to your face, squishing your cheeks before pulling you closer, looking at you with glossy eyes—small hearts seemingly etched into his pupils.

"i wish y-you hic were mineee...."

"pftt—" you burst into a fit of laughter at his uncharacteristic neediness—you’ve always enjoyed it when he'd get drunk. after all, they say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. so, although he loves you an awful lot, he would never admit, while whining, how much he actually wants you. 

"i am yours though, sweetheart," you reassure him softly.

“oh, really? you are?” he raises his brows questionably, “well, that's good... i couldn't bear the thought of some other loser having you all to himself."

unbeknownst to him, however, is that you had recorded him during his moment of vulnerability. he was absolutely embarrassed and ashamed of himself when he had sobered up.

—

"y/n. delete that."

itoshi rin, kaiser, MIKAGE REO, barou, XIAO, kaveh, alhaitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, CHILDE, geto, megumi, BLADE, dan heng, dr ratio, aventurine, scaramouche

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[kzrosa-writes]

NSFW BELOW — MDNI

— “p-please– no more!” you would beg, your desperate moans muffled against a pillow. his tip glistening with your arousal and countless orgasms circled and teased your entrance, gently pressing into your tight hole before he pulled it out. you let out a shaky breath, suppressing a whine. he was so cruel, so so cruel to your poor pussy. your mind was hazy and blurry, only filled with thoughts of how well he fucked you. you couldn’t even keep count of how many times he had made you cum in the past hour.

“c’mon, darling… you can handle one more, can’t you?” he would coo as he continued to tease and rub your clit with his tip. gently pressing it into your aching hole before pulling it out, your pussy clenching around him in a desperate attempt to keep him inside. “even your sweet pussy wants me to stay inside of you, love.”

it was the same thing every damn time — promising you that it’ll be the last one, making you cum all over his cock, teasing your clit, and the cycle repeats. you’re surprised just how well you’re taking it, but it seemed like he knew your body better than you did. 

giving him a silent nod of approval, he proceeded to slide fully into you without warning, eliciting a sharp moan from you. you clutched tightly onto the sheets, your belly pressed against the soft plush of the mattress as he continued to fuck you roughly from behind. your moans and gasps were partially muffled against a pillow, drool pooling around the corner of your parted lips. no matter how much he teased you, you could never stay upset at him. not when he has his hard cock pounding into you as an apology. 

thrusting roughly and fervently into you, he slid his hand in between your thighs to rub your swollen clit. you could feel his length pulsating inside of you with each thrust, throbbing and aching for release. soon enough, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach as he brought you closer and closer to your climax. you couldn’t tell which felt better — his sloppy and desperate thrusts or his slender fingers rubbing frantically against your aching bud. 

with a final snap of his hips, you felt your walls of pleasure crash down for the nth time tonight. letting out a whiny moan, you came all over his cock and your thighs, your release soaking the sheets once again. not long after, he came too, filling you up with his familiar warm and sticky cum. the hand playing with your clit brushed against the wet, dripping mess between your thighs, pulling it away before licking his fingers. he savoured your delicious taste, a sweet reward he had earned from making you cum. 

he pushed himself off of you before carefully helping you to sit down on his lap. brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, he gave you a soft, tender kiss, a huge contrast to the rough, berserk fuck he just gave you. he pulled you closer to his chest, holding you in his arms as the two of you basked in the afterglow of your release. leaning closer to you, he whispered those same damn words into your ear.

“think you can handle another one, sweetheart?”

childe, dottore, wriothesley, pantalone, neuvillette, kaeya, zhongli, diluc, scara, kinich, ayato, alhaitham + your faves !! ♡

♡ masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules —

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

4.2 spoilers but it's interesting how Scaramouche and Furina were both made as replacements. But while Ei saw Scara's humanity as a flaw, Focalors thought that's what made Furina perfect.

I need the two of them to interact

[ririinies]

he just wants to hang out

[skeweus-archive]

Accidental Charisma?!

Char. - Albedo, Al Haitham, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Heizou, Kaveh, Kazuha, Wanderer, Xiao and Zhongli

During Highschool your bound to meet some memorable peers, you just so happen to have meet quite a few. They all seem bewitched by you but why aren't your noticing!?

Word Count: 6k ( about 500 words each )

Fluff, crack, all pining, No established relationships. Highschool AU.

GN!Reader

A/N; Procrastination goes crazy I've been writing this since 2023 😭

Albedo

‘ Oh? Sure go ahead, please sit. ’

- library lovers

- LIBRARY LOVERS

- It was just your luck that during your final exam season the library was full.

- You had no other option but to ask the beige haired boy near the back of the library to sit next to him.

- When you asked him he said yes as he looked at you in an unnoticeable trance.

- You sat down next to him and opened your laptop ready to do some hard work. But who actually studies lmao, so after five minutes you decided to look over at the computer of the beige haired boy.

- When you look at his laptop it's just rows of science opportunity offers

- huh…. Turns out he must be quite the science prodigy.

- You were most certainly flabbergasted as he slightly smirked at you

- ever since that interaction he would always sit next to you at the library and so a blossoming relationship began.

- Surprisingly the more you got to know albedo the more you realised that he is quite a tease.

- Behind his calm, cool face is a string of words ready to charm you.

- But he’s not the only one who can tease!!!!

- You're unknowingly very good at capturing his heart.

- The way your eyes focus on your laptop (or his), the silly words that you say, the way that your touch his should oh he could go on.

- He’s enchanted!! You've stolen his heart and he doesn't want it back.

- Albedo finds himself eagerly awaiting your next meeting together but he doesn't know why!

- It’s a great surprise to him when he sees your face at the library and he’s nearly sprinting to the seat next to you.

- He was the one who asked to exchange contacts with you, whilst you just thought it was a simple question he proposed in light conversation but you don't know the countless thoughts he’s had on how to ask you.

- Despite all of this it took him a while to realise what his feelings meant.

- Why did his heart skip a beat when you greet him, why did his knees feel weak when your hands brushed. Why did his heart ache when you left his sight????

- Then albedo was hit with it, he had a crush on you.

- Without a doubt Albedo is one of the top students in the science department

- So when he kindly offers to help you raise your science grades, who are you to say no??

- It turns out to be the smartest thing you've ever said yes to as your science grades went from a C to full on As!!!

- Each moment he spends teaching you pieces of content and watching you connecting the dots is one that he enjoys

- If he can’t see you in person before a test, Albedo definitely sends you a text wishing you good luck and maybe try to slip a casual cafe hangout to celebrate your efforts.

- So after all that hard work, seeing your joyful face as you present your science test with near full marks warms his heart.

- While his heart is filled with warmth when you present your results, he’s pretty sure his heart actually stopped when you gave him a hug.

- The warmth that envelops his heart when he feels you close makes him blank out, but it's his turn to pull out the moves though.

‘ [ name ], do you want to go see a movie together to celebrate your test? ’

Al Haitham

‘ 98? good job. I got 99. ’

- Whilst you're not the best at science you're pretty good at other subjects but the one person in the way is your academic rival Al Haitham.

- After all this effort to get to the top Al Haitham always score 1 or 2 points higher

- And it gets on your last nerve!

- However Al Haitham just loves seeing you all fired up and angry at him and just adores your pout as you declare that you’ll beat him the next test

- And of course he’ll entertain your declarations of war with a slight smirk plastered across his face.

- But what is a competition without a prize? Al Haitham likes to get a little favour from you if he wins ( which when given an incentive of course he will try his best )

- And whilst you’d think it’d be something embarrassing or something that would be fun but no, all Al Haitham wants is to study together with you.

- Personally he prefers to study at cafes because it makes him feel calmer knowing that your eating

- and has a guilty pleasure of feeding you food.

- Please let him feed you some cake, he won the deal so you have to agree!

- Plus when he feeds you a sweet treat he can enjoy your flustered face as old women coo as that cute couple ( you guys ) at table 12.

- and pleaseee don’t look away, He needs to savour that shy look in your eyes

- As your relationship progress more, you come to realise how he isn't as much of a jerk you though he was

- He may just come off as an arrogant and self centred guy but he's actually super attentive to others and helps out a lot of people.

- Although this may not be true for others Al Haitham will always have a soft spot for you.

- It’s simple stuff like when you both are studying together and he notices you push yourself too much he'll stop you.

- Or when he sees you nervous before a test he’ll come over and tease you if it’s a good distraction for you

- Al haitham thoroughly enjoys your presence and always finds himself looking for you in a crowd.

- You're ingrained into his routine every step of the way. Wake up, deal with kaveh, see you and then whatever after.

- He always finds himself seeing you in whatever he does without even realising it. His spoon seems particularly shiny today, just like your hair. It was so soft and shiny when he saw you today and when you turned arou- oh crap he’s doing it again.

- He also starts to try and learn more about your interests instead of reading books about academics that are hard to wrap your head around he starts reading books that are related to your interests.

- The history of how your interest came to be, what your interest is, the basics. Anything to learn more and get to know you better!

- If he can sneak in little facts or trinkets to show that he invested in your likes then he considered that day a win.

- He likes impressing you and enjoys being around you and that intensified the moment he realised he was in love with you.

- it was over for him once you laid your head against his shoulder.

“ Oh crap. ”

Ayato

‘ Well then, want to head down to the boba shop today? ’

- The charming school prince

- This man has an entire fan club dedicated to him.

- Ayato is known for his charming personality that seems untouchable from afar. His soft, pale skin, his alluring eyes that entice everyone in, his general vibe and presence just attracts everyone in a room.

- He’s even well liked because of how wealthy he is.

- You personally don't even clearly remember how you became friends with Kamisato Ayato

- One thing led to another during some after school cleaning and now you Ayato call you guys buddies.

- He enjoys teasing you about the littlest things, whether it’s your choice of drink or a little quirk of yours. He just enjoys making fun little quips about it.

- You're just so done with him and his teasing but he'll never stop. No, he enjoys it too much.

- Sometimes his teasing is borderline flirting and he’ll constantly push you to the edge ( never too far or to a point where your boundaries are crossed though )

- Ayato enjoys being around you because you arent chasing him or staring at him with hearts in your eyes. It feels so refreshing knowing he can be himself without you squealing and fangirling about his every little action.

- From a young age Ayato has always been admired and adored by those around him so meeting you was like a breath of fresh air.

- So when he realised his feelings for you he could enjoy that feeling of the chase to gain your love.

- On the weekends or after school ( really anytime he can convince you to go ) he likes to take you to his favourite boba store down the street from school.

- Of course he’ll cover the bill because that's the gentlemanly thing to do!

- The kind old lady at the front always give him a 50% discount though ( and that might be because his family does own the entire chain but don’t worry about that )

- When you both sit down and if Ayato decides that he doesn't want to tease you as much today he company is extra nice and can lead to some pretty deep conversations.

- and of course he’ll walk you home after you two drink some boba and have a nice little chat

- He could call his driver and have him come drop you guys off but he doesn’t want to seem pretentious to you.

- Plus it’s nice creating new memories with things you see on the walk back to your place.

- Whilst hanging out with Ayato there is almost one thing that consistently happens

- One poor girl decides to take her shot at confessing to the elusive and charming school prince

- Whether he’s handed a letter or pulled to the side, he’s got confessions coming for left and right.

- For those who make the endeavour to ask him directly they will sadly be met with a hard no.

- And for those who dare to ask him why not might be met with a charming Ayato saying he’s waiting for someone else to fall for him.

- And of course he’ll come back to your lunch spot all smiles and his usual demeanor

- And whilst although you’ve never consider Ayato as someone who you’d have a crush on, some others see your friendship in a different light.

- I mean why do you get the privilege to hang around Ayato when it should be them!

- Anyone daring to comment on it to your face can try but will definitely be served with a notice of expulsion.

- you don't need to know though, if it's to preserve your friendship Ayato will go to great lengths.

“ How rude of them, don't let it get to you. Want to go get some Boba? “

Childe

‘ [nameeeee] can you help me bandage up my arm? ’

- Your local bad boy delinquent

- One day you were walking home and you just happen see this guy from your school half awake and bleeding

- Of course being the good person you are you help him out, putting some bandages to the places that look like it needed it the most and wiping the blood off his face with some wipes.

- From the moment he could see you clearly he was starstruck and looked like he saw an angel.

- Even though you happened to be wearing a facemask that day, Childe asked around and happened to find out your identity.

- And so he has now dubbed you his nurse and comes to you whenever he's injured.

- Because of his frequent injuries you have now resorted to keeping a first aid kit on you stocked with everything that you could possibly need.

- You could become a nurse at this point!

- If he can he will definitely join you for lunch and as a thank you he will buy you overpriced canteen food or will bring his own fancy food that you didn't even know he could afford.

- And on the days he’s not having lunch with you, he's typically beating up people, serving detention or hanging out with this gang who he says are called the Fatui or something.

- Childe likes to impress you and thinks that his Kawasaki Ninja H2 R Motorbike will definitely catch your eye ;) he spent a lot of money on it and it has a nice sound to it. ( why aren't you going ‘ wow childe you so awesome and cool! ’ ?!! )

- Another way he tries to impress you is by taking you on random outings dates in his eyes.

- Bowling, Laser Tag, PaintBall, Arcades, anything where he can show you just how talented he is!

- Yeah sure he only got 2 strikes the entire time and it took him 8 tries to get you that plushie but still he was really good at laser tag and paintball!!!

- Childe genuinely knows that you are a good person and wants to introduce you to his family.

- He just knows that his younger siblings will love you and that his older siblings and parents will like you as well. ( He knows he’s a rowdy kid and you’ve helped him calm down alot )

- He would definitely invite you over for a sleepover and just wants you to have a good time!

- He definitely helps his mum cook dinner the night you come over and tries his hardest to make the best Borscht he can.

- Although he intends to just spend the night chilling with you, his siblings have stolen you and you’d somehow be roped into seeing Teucer’s ruin guard plushie collection!

- Childe is an extremely loyal guy and would go to great lengths to protect your friendship together. He knows that hanging around you might affect your reputation but it’s that selfish part of him that wants to hang around you.

- But if people ever talk bad about you he will not hesitate to go have a little ‘ chat ��� with them and tell them not to mess with you.

- He will just casually drop ‘ need me to beat anyone up for you? ’

- He does want to get to know more about you and your interest so he got the genius idea to take you on a shopping spree to learn more about you.

- And don’t worry about paying, he's got it covered!

“ Don't worry about looking at the prices I've got it covered ;) “

Cyno

“ Nice TCG deck, wanna play? “

- A school athlete that a lot of people get along well with

- He seems like a scary guy and that scares a lot of people away from trying to talk to him but he’s actually a pretty chill guy.

- He has a few friends like Tighnari, Kaveh and Al Haitham but still people don’t see him as a super friendly person.

- The way you met him was actually kinda silly. You were going to a TGC convention and faced off in a match. Whilst you didn't beat him ( who could ever ) he was very impressed by your playing skills.

- The two of you striked up a conversation and ended up getting along really well.

- You both exchanged numbers and hung out alot together.

- Whether it was practicing your TGC skills or something else Cyno and you just clicked really well.

- You didn’t even realise he went to your school until one day you were walking in the halls and saw him.

- Of course after the initial shock wore off you went up to him and just hit him with a million questions.

- After he answered all of your questions ( he’s patient with you so he’ll listen to everything you have to say ) he offered to walk you to your next class.

- The two of you walked to your classroom whilst oblivious and dense you giggled at Cyno’s ‘ jokes ’ unaware of the people shocked at the two of you.

- By the time you had gotten to your classroom and waved Cyno goodbye, you’re met with multiple people surrounding you asking how in hell you’re able to talk to Cyno so casually.

- you didn't know you went to the same school until you saw him in the halls

- you went up to him and struck up a chat as he offered to walk you to your classroom ( giggles you guys... GIGGLES [ what am I on..] )

- you didn't know how popular Cyno was until once you came into class some of your classmates you know better interrogated you on how you know Cyno.

- That was pretty difficult to explain haha

- Cyno is a bit of a dork when it comes to hanging around you but he knows you won’t judge him so he’s glad that he can be himself around you.

- It could be a 2 hour rant about a new TCG card deck or going to an event about one of his interests and Cyno goes weak in the knees knowing that you’ll join him.

- Whenever you're playing in a TCG competition together Cyno insists that the two of you sign up as a duo.

- Because there’s no one better than you to be his TCG partner!!

- He definitely saves up to get you some fancy cards and sleeves because he’s like that <3

- When it comes to his sporting world he wants you to be a part of it!

- He’ll invite you to his games ( please say yes or else he’ll be sad all day ) and you secretly dedicate his next shot to you. He’s glad he didn't say it outloud though because he missed…

- if you want to borrow his jersey he's happy to hand it over!

- He knows you've got some admirers out there so he's gotta let people know to back off.

- He'll also invite you to his practices and say that if you want to have Cyno try hard in practice, inviting you to come is key.

- But of course on the walk home he’ll give you her jacket because it’s cold out here!

“ You can keep the jacket, just make sure your warm “

Heizou

“ Come on partner, we've got to solve the mystery! “

- The self proclaimed best detective of the 21st century

- Heizou believes that it must some higher being above that allowed the both of you to meet, because from the moment Heizou’s eyes rested upon you he thought he saw an angel

- He thanks the world that some idiot ( Kaveh ) lost his book because now he could go up and ask if you’ve seen it.

- And when you smiled slightly and offered to help him find the book, goodness you're pretty and kind?! You're just perfect.

- Well from the moment the two you found that book, Heizou officially declared you his fellow detective partner

- He's very attentive to your reactions and even if you conceal how you feel he can read you like an open book.

- Because of this skill, it allows him to be responsive to your needs and feelings.

- He’s always doing things that will make you happy and excite you. If you mention that you want a cute keychain you bet that he’ll line up for 2 hours just so he can get it for you, and hey look he’s got a matching one!

- As well as that he’s a really caring guy and always just happens to have exactly what you need. Got a cut on your finger? Here's a bandage! Feeling thirsty? He has an extra bottle of water so drink up!

- He also always brings you snacks for whenever you're out and about with him and they will always be your favorites so really you just walk out with nothing on your person and Heizou would have everything you need.

- Heizou loves to spend time with you but you're always so busy :( so he has to get your contact so he can text you all the time!

- He loves sending you funny memes or just selfies of his day ^.^

- He’ll send you selfies of whatever he’s doing whether that's what he’s eating, a picture of him or just something funny, your phone never lacks notifications from Heizou.

- Heizou also likes to facetime you so he can see your beautiful face and hear your gorgeous voice gently chide him.

- Although he is mindful that you need to sleep, there’s just some nights where he can resist it and has to call you.

- He’ll try to be more chill and keep his energy down but he’s a very happy guy whenever he’s around you.

- Heizou loves spending time with you and listening to you talk and what better way to spend time with you then doing some good old detective work?

- He loves helping you grow your investigative skills and making memories with you.

- Because being a detective means going out and about, going to new places and spending time with you.

- Though there is a downside for poor Heizou.

- Because you're such an enchanting beauty and of course everyone else can see that. He has to watch other guys try and shoot their shots! He’s playing the long con ok?

- He’s a lucky guy though because you always reject these unworthy boys.

- But besides that a detective day out means he gets to treat you to a nice meal and pick up some little trinkets on the way

“ You should hang out with me more [ name ], these other guys aren't as entertaining! ”

Kaveh

“ What would I do with you [ name]?? ”

- The MOST disorganized man on the planet

- seriously! 

- The two of you guys met because he dropped all of his books and papers on the floor and you helped him pick it all up.

- The poor guy had dark eyebags and he just looked done with everything. You couldn't help but feel pity for the poor guy and offered to help him carry his stuff and since then you've hit it off.

- Kaveh is in need of someone to help him out and you're the best option! You help him study, you remind him to eat and you cheer him on!

- Kaveh is so grateful for you and genuinely doesn't think he could move forward without your help.

- He doesn't know how to repay your kindness to him but despite him being piss poor, he’ll try to treat you whenever he can. He’ll save up from his part time job so that he can take you to a fancy ramen place down the street.

- He’ll tell you to pick whatever you want and he’ll even treat you to a fancy dessert!

- It makes him glad knowing that he can at least treat you to a nice meal even if it’s not close enough to expressing his gratitude.

- Aside from fancy food places though, Kaveh always knows the best spots and places to have a good time!

- So when the both of you are free on the weekends Kaveh will take you to a fun weekly music performance from a place called the Zubayr Theater. 

- It’s a delightful time talking about just anything whilst having beautiful music in the background.

-  Kaveh is a really smart student and is really good when it comes to art. 

- When he can’t concentrate on drawing his buildings for a project he’s working on, he finds himself opening up one of his sketchbooks that has a bunch of drawings of you.

- You're just such a beauty that Kaveh wants to remember your face. Etch it into his mind. You are his muse and will always be his muse.

- The one issue when it comes to his personal life is his roommate Al Haitham. He’s so annoying and is apparently also friends with you! 

- Kaveh didn't even know Al Haitham was able to form friendships with other people. But because of his stupid roommate he can’t invite you over to show you all of his designs because he can’t let Al Haitham annoy you or even worse steal you for himself!

- Despite being horrendous at taking care of himself, Kaveh is surprisingly good at taking care of other people.

- He did it for his mother for a while and he helped out at the retirement village down the street when he was younger. 

- So when you come down with something Kaveh is faithfully by your side ready to help cure you.

- He’s got a med kit by his side ( he got the idea from your medkit ) just in case you need some painkillers, he’s got a cooling cloth on your head being changed out 24/7, he got some ingredients for soup that he’ll get started on soon and just anything he can think of that would be helpful for you.

“ No, no, no, don't get up!! You're always taking care of me so let me take care of you for once. ”

Kazuha

“ Want me to share my notes with you? Don't worry I've got you covered :) ”

- Even though you only share your english class with him he has quickly become one of your good friends ( he hopes to be more than friends though )

- During your classes if you every get bored you'll find a cute little poem written on a torn out price of paper or a game of tic tac toe to entertain you.

- When it comes to the poems it’s always a guessing game about what he’ll write as he likes to experiment with what to write about but most of the time the poems are always nice and calming.

 - Speaking of calmness though, Kazuha himself is such a calming presence to be around! His voice is so calm and soft and his eyes always put you in a bit of a trance.

- This really comes in handy for Kazuha for whenever he sees you stressed out over a test as it seems that you like to listen to his voice and typically agree with him when he asks you to take a break.

- Kazuha is always one with nature when he’s not in class he enjoys making mini flower bouquets for you or just putting flowers in your hair whenever he gets ahold of some pretty flowers. 

- He also gets along well with animals such as stray cats and dogs, birds, squirrels, you name it! ( Irl disney princess trust )They just seem to be attracted to him so whenever you hang out with him it’s just cuteness overload of all these cute animals ( and Kazuha? )

- Kazuha likes buying you blind boxes because after all these difficult exams and just the toil of school work he feels glad that he can be the source of your reprieve.

- It doesn't really care for any of the brands but tries to get series he knows you like, like the bald green ones. He doesn't really care for the price as long as they’ll make you happy.

- It is the sudden dopamine rush that comes from you that makes him get excited. The actual content of the box doesn't really matter to him, he just enjoys seeing you happy.

- Which is why when he sees you upset his heart just breaks. If he can, he'll provide reasonable solutions that will help solve your problems, but he’s just as glad to provide you wordless comfort, just rubbing your back.

- If it happens that some people hurt you, he is not afraid to ask that sketchy gang called the fatui or smth to help out. He knows your friends with that ginger delinquent guy so he knows that he can get people to help him out.

- Likes to take you to laser tag as it’s a thrilling experience and he enjoys watching your focused gaze look for him in the dark. 

- Even as you carefully look around and try to avoid other players you still can’t catch him!!

- But he’s nice so he surprises you and grabs your hand, twirling you and just trying to show you how cool he is. Hoping to catch you in a trance before his ultimate betrayal of shooting you.

- Of course whilst he’s helping you take your equipment off he’ll apologise but still a betrayal is an unforgivable crime

“Sorry to get you there let me make it up to you with overpriced fries”

Wanderer

“ they're staring at me not you it's fine, don't worry “

- your local popular outcast. 

- people are sure he's a cool dude but most of the time people are too scared to even look at him. 

- Once a girl attempted to ask him out but all that was left after the confession was a sobbing girl, the indifferent Wanderer and a few shocked people. Well at least according to rumours that had people now scared of him.

- At the start of the school year you had been placed in the same history class as him. The time had come for pairing up and you noticed that there was one guy everyone was avoiding like the plague. Wanderer.

- so you made the brave decision to ask him to be your partner for the project. Surprisingly he agreed.

- the more you worked with him you ended up bonding with him more and became good friends

- You guys both have matching keychains together of cats which when you gave it to him he said he wasn't going to use it but surprise he now has it on his backpack. 

- after school sometimes you both head over to your local 7 /// 11 and he buys you that expensive $20 small tub of ice cream 

- you both sit on a bench and vege put on the food you got. 

- You spend your time chatting together and eating your food but when you go to pop something in the bin you miss his burning red face. 

-Wanderer tolerates nearly nobody, everyone is always scared of him or just leaving him alone so when you came along and didn't leave him he truly fell in love. 

- he'd never admit it though despite how deep his love is he's always will try to be nonchalant. 

- but he's always trying to impress you 

- Wanderer enjoys taking you to different places that allows him to show off his skills

- such as the skatepark or a motorbike meetup

- he's very skilled at driving a bike and is amazing at skateboarding 

- he'll even teach you how to skateboard! 

- he may not be the most patient teacher but he'll make sure you know everything. 

- extremely cautious when it comes to you skating though 

- he gives you every price of protective gear possible. Knee pads, arm pads, helmet, everything!! 

- but don't worry you'll be fine 

- it's like 10pm and the sky looks like it's never seen the sun but don't worry he's very alert 

- if you're at a bike meetup he's got you right next to him or in eyeshot and if anyone suspicious tries to talk to you best believe he's staring them down. 

-despite the fact that he's in denial over his feelings, he'll always be there for you. 

- if you've got a performance or event going on, best believe he's there to support you, whether that's watching you perform and helping you setting up and other things. 

- however if there is one thing that wants to keep you away from is his mothers. 

- he says that they're both freaks with purple hair and pink hair. He knows the moment he brings you home he'll be met with lots of teasing from a specific pink haired lady. 

- but if you want to go visit his home he'll take you. 

“ just ignore my mums they're weird ”

Xiao

“ Sorry I think you got my drink, it’s a black coffee with three shots of espresso. ”

- Xiao is basically the same as Wanderer, but much nicer. 

- He seems mean and scary but really he’s a nice guy who’s always doing nice things!

- his reputation precedes him as the silent guy who helps carry others' stuff, the guy who blocked a ball from a girl's face, the guy who picks up rubbish off the ground and so much more. It's a stark contrast from the black mask and bangs that cover his face. 

- After a chance meeting and mixed orders at your local tea place the two of you got along instantly 

- It soon became a routine that the both of you walk home together at least once a week. 

- he’d like to walk home with you more often but he’s too shy to ask you so he’ll just take what he can get.

- however once you got cornered by a pair of delinquents and he found out so he mustered up the courage offered to walk you home more often

- So when you agreed to walk home together 3 days a week Xiao felt as if he won in life.

- If you’re going home later because you have a club on, or are studying, Xiao will wait for you and maybe even join what you’re doing.

- He wants to make sure you're safe so despite the fact that he’s not super intimidating to thugs he’ll always glare at anyone who seems to have any bad intentions towards you. Scares them off easily! 

- Xiao is always remembering the little things

- once you were complaining to him about dry lips and the next day he brought you a four pack! ( peach, strawberry, vanilla and raspberry in case you're wondering ) 

- he remembers your odd little habits, your interests, what do like to do and everything else 

- If you want to do something he’s always in to try!

- Once, you both decided to join a club but had quit the first week due to the entire time spent with everyone asking him questions or trying to flirt with him.

- When you both left the club he was so sorry and repeatedly apologised to you because he knew you wanted to join a club and even though he said he’d join with you he’s the reason why you had to quit and- you get the point.

- Just stuff a piece of bread in his mouth to shut him up! 

- and you’ll shut him up alright because when you did that his face was absolutely red!!! 

- Xiao is quite clueless when it comes to his feelings towards others but with you his heart was set and he knew that he liked you. 

- Xiao loves being useful and would willingly become your butler if you asked. 

- He wasn't particularly looking to get his driver's licence but when you asked him if he could drive you somewhere and he could, Xiao was on it.

- He likes to do things for you and his love language is definitely acts of service.

“ I’ve got a drivers license now and so I can take you places now! ”

Zhongli

“ Would you mind if I sat with you again today? I quite enjoy your company ”

- the sophisticated student Council president

- to the masses he seems intimidating but when you pay for his lunch one day he seems to be a much more complex individual 

- One day you’re at the lunch line and the guy in front of you seems to have forgotten his card. Wait..... is that the council president? !

- out of the kindness of your heart you paid for his lunch and ended up sitting next to him. 

- sitting next to him one time turns into multiple days a week! 

- the more you talk to him the more he seems like a normal person

- the elusive and intimidating perspective everyone seems him as is far from the truth

- He loves telling you stories!! You both spend many afternoons together listening to him talking about his stories 

- he also loves listening to you telling stories as he loves to learn more about you and find out what makes you, you.

- he’ll always remember every detail of what you tell him and if possible he’ll try to rekindle your memories.

- If you told him about a bookstore you used to go to as a child he’ll drive you there and spend time with you there. 

- It makes him glad to be responsible for eliciting such a happy reaction from you.

- Despite never his carelessness regarding his money he always seems to have just what you need. 

- if you want to go get some tea, he knows the sweet old lady who runs the shop and she’ll give you two a discount or just cover the cost, on the house!

- Zhongli also seems to have anything you need when it comes to oddly specific items. If you need a brown hair tie he’ll just happen to have one.

- In general he likes to care for you and make sure you have everything you need.

- Zhongli has long hair and just LOVES it when you play with his hair or do different hairstyles

- He likes it when you braid his hair and if possible he’d love to braid your hair!

- He has a deep appreciation for making memories together and truly cherishes the time you both went to a perfume making class.

- The both of you decided to make a scent for each other and he absolutely adores the musky, woody scent you decided on.

- He once ran out of it because he uses it everyday so he went back to the story just so he could remake it.

- It’s his signature scent and he’ll never wear anything else if possible.

- Despite having many duties to attend to, he is always looking out for you and just looking to spend time with you.

- when possible he’ll come to hang out with you or ask you to accompany him during a task. 

- He doesn't realise it but he definitely prefers you hanging out with him over others.

- if he knows you have goals you want to complete he’ll definitely go out of his way to help you accomplish them!!

- Whether it’s academic, fitness, spiritually he doesn't mind as long as he can help you.

- He’s content with waking up earlier or sending you reminders if it means helping you out!

“ You’ve got this, just a little closer now… please take some breaks though ”

[chococolte]

I think a sagau! touch starved/needy childe, scara and zhongli feels very attractive, to have two powerful harbingers on their knees just for a shred of attention from their god makes me wanna pamper them

but also like zhongli?? That man is so touch-starved like poor dude has been worshipping for hundreds of years without a reward for his good work probably drives him insane. I cannot imagine how he hold it together and doesn’t ascend on the spot when he breathes the same air as his god because I genuinely think he’s THAT needy

also your writing really brought me a lot of comfort!! Thank you for running the blog and doing what you do💜💜

word count. 3.8k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. im so happy you like my writing!! im sorry i took forever to write this, but i still hope you like it !!!!

childe

In the unfathomable dark of the abyss, you were the only thing Childe had to keep himself sane.

Without you, he would've lost himself; without you, he is nothing. He only survived because of your guidance. In his eyes, his ever consuming need of you is only right— he has no need of anything else, and sees no purpose to think otherwise. You've only ever proven how worthy you are of worship.

When light seeps through tree boughs, he sees you. He sees you in the way the leaves leave a shadow. He feels you in the cast of the wind's breath. Every breath he takes is inlaid with your name. The mere thought of the opposite makes him sick.

He's pathetic, but his pitiful appearance is only for your eyes.

Just breathing in your presence is enough for him to feel weak and fluttery, but your eyes on him leave him delirious; the sort of dizzy where he can’t bring himself to move at all. All you have to do is glance at him for his knees to tremble like they're about to buckle underneath his weight.

Somehow, he keeps himself standing each time. He should be ashamed, he knows, embarrassed— but drool pools quickly in his mouth as your eyes linger, and any sort of dignity is discarded in the light of your gaze.

As a Harbinger, he should have more pride than he does, but Childe's only arrogance is his belief that he's special to you. That belief was the only thing he had to ground himself in the abyss, and he clings to it as if to let go would mean death. In his mind, it would be no different.

You were the only thing he had, even if he only knew you in the form of whispers and imperceptible kisses of wind. He didn’t need to touch you, no matter how tortuous of an existence it may be, as long as he could feel you.

That was enough. He thought it would be enough.

Seeing you is an entirely different matter however, and quickly, he finds himself wondering what your skin would feel like under his calloused fingertips.

He wants you to touch him. It's a selfish want, but one he carries with him all the same.

He wants you to play with his hair and hold him close as if he's something precious. He wants you to run your fingers along his spine and see him as he reveals every dark, nasty part of himself. He wants you to look and still find something to love.

Childe doesn't speak a word of his desires. He sits with them in the dark and tries to will them away. He tries to withstand their passage, but only ends up choking on each thought.

He tries to hold himself at night, imagining his arms are yours, but it only makes the ache worse.

He imagines loving you, and you loving him.

When you summon him to your chambers, Childe has to hold every nerve in his body to keep himself from running to you. It’s with a clearly restrained gait that he reaches you, just barely, his knees still wobbly and the floor a shifting kaleidoscope of colors.

It doesn’t bother him. Childe feels weightless, alight with fervor, and it’s a struggle to stop himself from rushing forward just to breathe a little closer to you. He drops to his knees, bowing his head until his forehead sits against your marble flooring.

Touch me, he thinks.

He somehow manages to choke a greeting out of his throat, unable to stop the small shudder that runs through him when he feels your gaze settle on him.

It feels right, being beneath you. It feels right, the slight tension in his body as he waits for you to speak.

Childe doesn’t say anything else. You’re the only one he truly respects, the only one he’s ever felt so fervently for— in your name, he would burn the world and scorch the earth. For you, he’d stain his hands so terribly the waters turn red. He holds no desire to clean his hands with anything other than your forgiveness— and so he doesn't dare to speak out of turn, unable to bear the thought of you being upset with him.

"Come here," he hears you say, your voice gentle and cooing. Childe doesn't hesitate, taking your words as a command, crawling towards you like some sort of dog.

Despite how eager he is to be near you, his hands rest dumbly at his sides. His fingers twitch, aching to touch you for just a moment, but he sits still, trying to be good. Without your permission, all he can do is sit, no better than a well-trained hound.

Childe looks up at you with a dumb, dopey smile on his face. He knows he must look like a fool, dazed just by sitting so close to you— he can already feel heat spreading across his freckled cheeks, and he knows it must be obvious— but he can't find it in himself to care.

It’s you.

You're so close he could touch you if he dared. Your warmth is only a few inches away from him, and he inhales, trying to breathe you in. For a brief moment, he allows himself the blessing to imagine what it would be like to touch you.

He imagines running his fingers against your skin. He imagines brushing against your hand. He imagines his palms gliding across the length of your robe, pretending the silk is your flesh. The thoughts strike him dumb, and he lets out a small whine before he can reel himself back in.

It's a breathless noise, but one he's sure you heard.

Your hand reaches forward to cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your palm, leaning into your warmth as if trying to drink you in.

"So cute," you say, and every dark, needy part of him lights up all at once.

Childe makes another sound, a soft whimper drawn from the back of his throat. His russet lashes flutter shut, and any sense of propriety is promptly thrown to the side.

Touch me.

Another sharp shudder runs through him when you rub your thumb over his cheek. He almost falls limp against your hand, his breath locked in his throat, but he manages to steady himself in time.

His hands find your ornate robes within a second, and then he's clutching onto them until his knuckles are white. Childe can feel himself digging little crescents into his palms, but your touch means he's unable to focus on anything else, and the thought of lessening his grip makes him afraid you'll pull away.

Childe bites his lips, trying to stifle another noise. He never wants this to end. You could spit in his face, and he would thank you for it.

Just as he jerks forward, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, overwhelmed by how good your touch feels— you're letting go, and pure, unbridled fear rushes over him.

"N-No!" Childe begs hoarsely, unable to realize that he's acting out of what he's allowed. "No, no, d-don't stop, please! Please, please…" he pleads weakly, fingers digging into your robes again, tighter this time.

Unshed tears wet his eyes. If it means having your attention on him, he would do anything. Nothing is too far beneath him. He’s already done unspeakable things in your name, hoping to garner your favor; if it means having your touch for one second longer, then there’s no low he wouldn’t fall too— no covenant he wouldn’t break, divine or mortal. 

As long as it means being by your side at the end of it, any agony would be worth it. No shame is too much for him to bear. 

"Oh, puppy," you murmur softly. One of your hands cups his cheek, while the other gently tugs at his hair. "How could I say no to you?"

The fear coalescing around his heart dissipates, and the fingers that were clutching onto you lessen their grip slightly.

"Mhm," Childe hums at too high of a pitch, but he's much too drunk on you to think about anything else, much less whether he's ruining your perception of him. He hides his face in your hand.

Your puppy, he wants to add, but his mind is too frazzled to get the words out.

Your fingers in his hair tighten, and Childe can't help the little bit of drool that falls from his lips.

scaramouche

He shouldn't be ecstatic with just this much.

All you’d done was look at him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and it was enough for him to feel every nerve bursting like stars all over, pin pricks dancing under his skin. It was enough for every ugly, horrible little part of himself to reveal themselves like he'd done nothing to hide them.

The sudden surge of emotion, an incessant and desperate need to please you— to give you no reason to give him away— breaches the surface far too quickly. His every move is then dictated by how it might affect you, whether it'll give him your favor or ire; and an ever increasing chittering spawns in the back of his mind, crying for you to touch him.

All you'd done was look at him.

Scaramouche tries to ignore it at first. He, very pointedly, does his best not to think of how his skin burns when a thought of you touching him enters his mind unbidden, nor how it simultaneously destroys whatever preconceived notions he had of himself.

He knows titles are meaningless in front of you, but that doesn't quite quell the petulance he feels when he crumbles each time you look at him. You don't have to touch him for every wall to burst like they were nothing. You don't even have to be near him. Your eyes meet his for a moment, and it's like everything he is shatters.

It makes him feel disgustingly weak and as insignificant as the day he was born.

Scaramouche is one out of many; one interaction you may have out of hundreds. He knows how many clamber for your affection, and how many more would ruin themselves for it.

You hold his gaze for a meaningless amount of time, and he knows it means nothing to you. His body still reacts like it does. He knows once you've turned, you'll have already found something else to capture your attention. His pulse still churns as if you’d just held his face in your hands.

It's nothing to you. It should mean nothing to him.

He hates the fact it bothers him.

He shouldn't care. It's not the same as you abandoning him. That you look at him at all should mean something. But it doesn't change the way fear bundles inside of him when you look away, nor does it change the disgust that rises at the very fact he feels that way at all.

He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother him. But it does. It does.

It eats away at him like a festering wound. It hurts like nothing before it. He wonders if you’ll grace him with a look, and when you do, that’s the only thing that matters. When you turn away, he wonders how he ever got to this point. When you don’t, it’s like his breath’s been wrung from his lungs, and he wonders again, at what point did he let himself fall so far. 

It’s a point of irritability for him, and he ignores it like acknowledging it would be the death of his ego. Knowing that it would only serves to make him suffer more.

Whether you smiled or twitched your brow shouldn't feel the same as being reborn or having life torn from him. 

You haven't left him yet. He constantly feels like you're about too.

Scaramouche has to sit and watch when you interact with others. It feels like torture. You smile, and for some reason, it feels like fire washing over him. You laugh, and somehow, he hears it as vividly as he would if he was next to you; only it hurts because he's not the one you're sharing it with.

He could at least pretend he wasn't so pathetic before. He could hold himself up with some pride, even dignity— mask his emotions well enough they couldn't be used against him. Now, sitting in front of you like this, he can't even have that much.

It's piety, worship, love, or something in between or all of them at once. He's weak all over because of it, and it makes him furious at the same time it makes him euphoric.

He wishes he was stronger. Tempered by the abyss, and he still can't resist falling into you.

Your hand runs across the nape of his neck, and he shivers, skin burning where your fingers brush. A soft, shuddery breath escapes him, and his fingers curl where they're latched onto your robes.

If it was anyone else, maybe he would have mauled them for seeing him in such a state. People are perfidious; quick to betray, and even quicker to exploit whatever they've gleaned. Faster still to take away anything that makes him happy.

It's not just anyone, though. It's you. And despite how terribly he fears and how deeply he wishes to bury his emotions, his want of you runs deeper. If it means holding your attention, then you can have anything. If it means feeling your touch, then he'd let you use whatever you wanted against him.

If it meant having the assurance of your presence, then he'd kneel and discard his every title and name. He'd become nothing, if he knew he'd still have you.

“Good boy,” you whisper, and Scaramouche instinctively moves closer, rubbing his knees raw against marble, trying to breathe in your warmth.

He despises how fast he weakens at your beckoning; how he can't even will himself to resist, or fathom the thought of it— malleable to your every whim, and unable to be truly angered by it. He only shifts to be nearer to you, dreaming of your touch, hoping to share some of your eternity.

A whimper rises from his throat, trying to kill his desperation.

"Don't leave me," he says, the words wrenched from his throat. "Don't leave me."

Don’t betray me, he wants to say instead. Don’t abandon me.

It's a disgusting display of weakness. He wishes he could kill his voice so he wouldn't speak at all, but even without a heart, his emotions feel like they might choke him.

The things you do to him are terrible. Pleas for you to only look at him sit and die on his tongue. He reels himself back in before he can make a fool out of himself even further, but he knows you only have to look at him for a little bit longer for any sense of resistance to die alongside his pride. 

"I won't," you say softly, holding his cheek against your palm. "I'm here."

Scaramouche leans into your touch, hiding his face against your hand. He manages to keep himself from making an improper sound through sheer will, though he has to clench his jaw and close his eyes. 

Even just knowing he has all of your attention makes him feel dazed, and as you rub your thumb over his cheek, he can’t even muster any anger at being reduced to such a state. He hums, somehow leaning even further into your touch. 

“I’m here,” you say again, and Scaramouche whimpers into your palm.

zhongli

Zhongli dreams of you every night.

He knows he shouldn’t. It’s not proper of him, nor is it right for him to sully your image with his thoughts. Still, though, the thoughts come unbidden and leave him a wreck in their wake. 

What troubles him is what he knows to be the cause of them.

Zhongli has always been eternally grateful. He's sat with the love of you until it permeated every thought. He's lived beside the worship of you until it coated his every word and nerve. 

Being able to serve you past fantasies in his imagination brings him purpose, and that should be enough. And for a time, it was. 

He could see you and feel fulfilled. He could breathe your air and feel like the thousands of years spent waiting for you had been worth it. Even following you around like some sort of dog was more gratifying than splitting the earth apart. This, he thought, is enough.

This sense of greed, then, shouldn't exist.

Zhongli pretends it's not his own, but the truth is that every thought is painfully his. 

He imagines you running your fingers through his hair. He imagines touching your skin. He imagines you whispering praises against the pale column of his throat, and he imagines being yours in such a way that he knew he was special to you. He imagines you breathing his name and it feeling like rebirth. He imagines your touch. He imagines being able to worship you selfishly, entirely, in a way that no one but him could claim the honor of.

In a way, he thinks he deserves it. To be tortured with visions of things he knows he doesn't deserve and thoughts he knows you wouldn't approve of. 

Zhongli would think of you often before, when all he had of you were the prayers on his lips and promises of piety. It was difficult to imagine you as something physical, but still, his heart stirred. His most meaningful company was the thought of you beside him.

What he thinks of now is different.

He wouldn't have dared to imagine touching your skin. He wouldn't have let the thought escape the darkest of his subconscious. He wouldn't have dared to let himself the simple fantasy of you speaking his name like he's something precious to you. All he wanted, then, was to share the same plane of existence as you. A selfish want, but it was pure.

What pervades his mind now is some sort of sacrilege. He should know better, but he still sullies you every time he closes his eyes, unable to fight and equally unwilling too. 

His greatest arrogance. Even with thousands of mortal lifetimes lived, he still can't rid himself of it— even with his own self-hatred, his thoughts continue to defy him. 

Even when he knows he's failing you, he falls deeper. 

It's worse when you interact with others. Zhongli hugs your shadow and trails after you always, eager to please but always hiding behind a mask of propriety and decorum. He likes to pretend to have a semblance of control in your presence, though he knows that if you’d only ask, he would rid himself of it entirely and be thankful for it.

You're perfect, which is why you're kind even to those that don't deserve a modicum of your attention. You smile, and each time it's not directed at him, he tries to choke the indignance out of him. It’s selfish of him to expect that he be the only one to receive your affection, despite how his mind whispers it’s because he hasn’t done enough to prove himself to you. 

Why else, it supplies, would you waste your breath on those undeserving of it? 

He reminds himself of his place. It assuages him for only a moment.

Zhongli dreams of your breath. He dreams of you cracking him open and bearing witness to every depravity and every virtue and still whispering your love to him. He dreams of looking at you and knowing that he means something to you. He dreams and he wants so terribly, and he knows none of it is his to imagine.

He reminds himself of his place, repeating the words over and over in his mind. He whispers them to himself at night in hopes that maybe, it'll finally stick this time. 

Be pleased with this much.

He's meant to be. He tells himself that, maybe, if he perseveres well enough, he'll be rewarded. 

Maybe you'd let him touch you?

He wouldn't ask for much. Maybe you would be kind enough to let him hold your fingers in his. He wouldn't do so for long. Maybe, if he was good, you'd let him kiss your fingertips with the reverence you deserve. 

It’s an impossibility, he knows, but it's his sole comfort. If he withstands just for a while more, you'll be proud instead of disappointed that he's fallen so low. 

Then you ask for him to kneel, alone in your chambers, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Zhongli does as you say immediately. He falls to his knees so quickly that his mind doesn't have the chance to catch up. Vaguely, he understands that maybe he should be ashamed with how fast his body responds. He decides he doesn't care. All he knows is that you're looking at him, and that it feels sweet and good, and that he doesn't want you to stop. 

His breath is lodged in his throat. His heart sounds like a roar in his ears. Nothing exists but you and your words. All you have to do is whisper a word that could vaguely be understood as a command and he would be at your feet, ready to be used. 

He wants you to touch him. 

You smile, and his nerves feel alight with fervor. Zhongli’s hands stay clenched on his knees, trembling with the strength needed to resist touching you. 

You haven't given him permission, so he keeps himself still. 

You cradle his face in your hands. He can feel the warmth of your palms caressing his cheeks, and he wonders— how can there be anyone who doesn't worship you? 

“Good boy,” you say, and Zhongli inhales sharply. 

For you, he wants to say. Only for you.

He doesn't, afraid to speak; afraid that to murmur even the softest of praises would cause you to pull away. 

Does he tell you, he wonders, that he wants you to play with his hair? Does he tell you he wants you to love him completely, innocently, selfishly? Does he tell you he wants you to touch his skin, anywhere if it means having that small piece of contact? 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” you ask, and he can hear the small tint of mirth in your voice.

The question strikes him dumb. His body burns and his blood is singing. Zhongli doesn't care if you find him amusing. No, he delights in it. It doesn't matter as long as he means something at all to you.

His fingers twitch, and just barely does he manage to keep his hands to himself. 

“Everywhere,” he breathes.

[gronnulv]

2011 and 2025

[comatosebunny09]

Before AO3 goes down for maintenance, and before you flock to Tumblr to complain about how much it pains you to be deprived of your blessed, mood-enhancing, pillow-gnawing fics, make sure the writers of said fics know how much you enjoy them. It’s as easy as saying, “I like this. ☺️”

[write-and-wander]

In Words

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav (Reader) Description: Astarion, haunted by the seemingly inevitable darkness his future holds, tries to take it into his own hands and cling to the bit of power he might still have. Yet, as the cliche goes, love always finds a way. Warnings: Suicide mention Author's Note: I wrote this immediately after finishing Act One of Baldur's Gate 3. Idk man I listened to The Pale Elf by Jonathan Young and this appeared in my brain and I had to put it somewhere.

Oddly enough, he was thinking about everything other than the situation at hand. He had accepted the fact that it would hurt. There was no other choice but to accept it. Life is full of pain, after all. He knew that well. But it’s full of so much beauty, too.

He thought about the friends he had made. Some that didn’t like him much at all, others that did. Either way, they were people who stuck together and risked their lives for his, as he did for theirs. They healed him, in some ways. Not just because he was free from the pain he had been forced to endure- though, that really was a treat. No, it was more than that. He was glad to die feeling the sun’s warmth on his skin. He loved that he could go wherever he pleased, do whatever he pleased. It was healing to have that freedom again.

Yet, they couldn’t save him. He knew that- and he knew that they were in denial about it. They would likely be angry with him, wondering if he had given up on them. No, he had just given up on himself; but they could believe whatever they like. Many have thought worse. Their collective anger would subside with time. Wounds would heal again. Even the wounds of the one he cared for most.

They wouldn’t just be angry- they would be grieved. He always knew their heart was far too soft for his. They loved him from the moment they found him. Even when he bore his teeth as a cornered animal, they loved him.

He had told them that he felt the same- that he wanted them from the very moment he had first laid eyes on them. They both knew this was a lie. He was more concerned about survival (and the security of his freedom), and his cold demeanor made it clear that being close to others was not his strong suit.

At the same time, it was hard to ignore his draw to them. Their immediate forgiveness upon the withdrawal of his knife from their neck sent him reeling. He was a monster to everyone but them, even in that moment- he was just another person. Someone with real feelings and thoughts that actually mattered. They were one of the few people who could keep up with his wit, and yet, they were the most gentle soul he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. They could whole-heartedly love the cold surface and the man that hides beneath. Their love just... was that way.

He really had come to love them, though. He was putty in their hands; a now-willing slave who would use whatever power he had to move the heavens and the earth for them without a second thought. Yet, he had never said it out loud. He couldn’t. He would never be able to do what must now be done if he had.

And so, with a steak leveled at his own chest, hands shaking as they might, he thought not of this moment. The darkness of his memories and the promise of their reprise had driven him here. The warmth of the sun was the only thing to embrace him now. Yet, his thoughts were on the beacons of light that were his friends. His mind wrapped itself in the comfort of his lover, who could gently carry him unto death through memory alone. Now, he would finally embrace the once thing he had begged for over the last 200 years. His fists tightened around the steak as he began to press it into his chest.

Then they called out his name.

Their voice was no longer an echo in his mind.

They were there, calling for him out loud, their quivering voice echoing against the cliffside.

“There is another way,” they pleaded, desperation clear in their face as he finally opened his screwed-shut eyes to meet their gaze.

Suddenly, his plan was ruined before it began.

They ran to him, and rested their hand on the stake that still pressed against his chest. A drop of blood ran down his torso with the same heaviness as a tear running down a cheek. It teased him with death; with the power that would now hold, and the power that was now lost.

“You’ve made me soft,” he whispered, eyes watering. How dare they, he thought, less in offense and more in helplessness. He would not go like this. He could not go like this. Not when they would beg him to stay.

They'd saved him once- perhaps, against all odds and demons and gods that were pitted against him, they could save him again. Perhaps they already had; perhaps the victory was already claimed before the fight even began. They had a way of doing that with the ease of a breath- cheating time for those they loved.

They gently took the stake out of his white-knuckled hands. “I know,” they murmured, kissing his cheek.

He folded into them, finally able to relax completely. It was like the two of them fit together perfectly; like every moment they spent apart strained against their very nature. They were meant to be like this- together.

He resolved that, if he was never to be freed from his burden, so be it. At the very least, his taste of wretched freedom had granted him the beauty of the purest love. That could sustain him for eternity, if that were his fate. If the two of them died trying to promise his freedom, at least they tried. Hope had pierced his hardened heart and promised light in a never-ending night. He no longer knew how to do anything but strive for it.

As they held him in silence, he finally confessed his love in words.

[tnsophiaayaonly]

Imagine... You, a vampire low-key mastering the art of pretending to be human because, be fr, humans are basically the worst about vampires. They freak out, throw pitchforks, call you “monster,” maybe try to roast you like marshmallows. So yeah, you keep your fangs tucked in, your voice down to a whisper, and your whole existence on dnd mode.

And then... Scaramouche. Rich, annoying, obnoxiously charming and somehow your class partner in this ridiculous blood project nobody asked for. (Spoiler: he’s not just rich and smart; he’s got that whole “brooding vampire novel cover model” look going on — indigo hair that looks like it’s been dipped in midnight, those sharp red-lined eyes that could probably cut glass, and pale skin so flawless you’d think he’s been photoshopped by angels.)

Ofc ts is fanfiction, he somehow finds out you’re a vampire.

Because Scaramouche, in all his over-the-top, borderline insane glory, is a massive fanfiction nerd who’s been secretly obsessed with vampires since forever. Like, he’s read all the cheesy vampire romance novels and watched every supernatural show, and now he’s convinced he needs to be bitten by one. Not for survival or anything normal, nooo, but just because he’s got this ridiculous kink for being bitten. Yeah. You heard that right.

Cue the million times he asks you to bite him.

“C’mon, just a little nibble? Please?” he pouts, flashing that infuriatingly smug grin.

“No,” you say firmly, because, duh, you don’t do casual biting like it’s candy.

But noooo, that doesn’t stop him. He’s relentless. Texts you during class, sliding into your DMs with “Biting is caring, you know,” and showing up with that damn smirk like he’s auditioning for getting bitten.

Eventually, you snap. Like, in the middle of some heated argument, you just bite him. Not a tiny nibble — full-on sink your fangs into his neck and drink a bit. And holy hell, the taste? He’s like a walking nectar fountain. You practically moan internally because, damn, his blood is something else.

He doesn’t just fall in love — he plunges headfirst into the abyss of obsession. Suddenly, he’s texting you 24/7, begging for “just a bite,” showing up with his neck exposed like it’s some twisted sacrificial altar. He’s forcing you to drink his blood more than you drink water. And don’t get me started on the borderline psychotic fits when you threaten to sip from someone else — yeah, he literally makes them disappear. Like, “Hey, that guy? Gone.” Creepy break-ins? Check. Stalking? Oh, double check.

And when you finally get fed up and tell him to fuck off?

He turns into a toxic ex. Suddenly, your little “biting arrangement” is a relationship, at least in his fucked up brain. He drags you back, demanding to be bitten again, like some emotional vampire junkie who needs your fangs as reassurance that you want him — no, need him — just as badly as he needs you.

Honestly? It’s exhausting, a little terrifying, and totally ridiculous. But hey, when you’ve got a rich, insane fang-obsessed stalker on your tail, what else are you gonna do?

And yea he's human ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

(I'm writing it down rn rn... Liek the full fnafic....🤑)

[genshin-obsessed]

“What if we broke up?”

✧˚ · . Neuvillette

“Why would we break up? Have I done something to upset you? I’ll fix it.” Once he realizes you only meant it as a hypothetical, his eyes glance down at his desk. There’s a small silence that fills the air. “I… would be lost. I’d go back to being the way I was before you. Back to being alone. I… can’t be me without you.”

✧˚ · . Wriothesley

“What? Break up? You’re not thinking about breaking up with me, are you? Did I do something?” A sigh of relief escapes him when you tell him it’s just a hypothetical. “I’m… not sure. Before you, I was just the administrator in Meropide. A lot has changed since then. Now… I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

✧˚ · . Wanderer

“The hell? You’re just gonna break up with me like that?” His anger immediately melts when he you explain it’s just a hypothetical question. He’s silent for a very long time, just staring at you. “I… I’d go crazy. Probably. I don’t think I could lose you too. But if you’re truly unhappy with me… then I’ll let you go.” The words are hesitant and unsure. He couldn’t just let you go… could he?

✧˚ · . Childe

“Heh, where would you go? Wait, you don’t actually wanna break up do you?” There’s a hint of fear in his tone but his eyes show it all. He’s terrified. It’s instant relief when he finds out it’s not an actual statement. “I’d beg for you to stay. I’d beg and beg and beg. I couldn’t possibly lose you without trying my best to get you back.”

✧˚ · . Diluc

“Break up? Why… hold on, why would we break up? Everything’s been great recently? Are you unhappy with our relationship?” His shoulders relax instantly when you assure him it’s just a hypothetical and means nothing. “Well… I… don’t know, actually. So far, my life has been work. With you, it’s been fun. I don’t know if I can even picture my life without you anymore, actually. Probably just… lots of work.”

[bluerosefox]

Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions

Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.

Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.

"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"

When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.

"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.

And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.

"Danyal."

His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.

After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.

His bother who... wasn't dead.

His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.

His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.

His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.

His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'

And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-

Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.

[ririinies]

cool hat, dude

[kalystatheevil]

picture scaramouche bent over, hands tied behind his back, face pressed to a coffee table with you holding him from behind

tw: cursing, cnc, praise, humiliation, dom reader, unhealthy use of ellipses; (amab reader), 18+

you rub your glistening cock between scaramouche's spread asscheeks, almost moaning from the view alone. your precum is already leaking into the cracks, moistening them prettily.

"fuck, scara… what did i tell you, huh?" a sharp slap resounds, and scaramouche's right cheek immediately starts turning pinkish. the boy grits his teeth.

"go to hell you fucking psycho."

"mhhh…" your thumbs leave little indents in the supple skin of his ass. between them, a throbbing hole clenches nervously. "a psycho, am i."

scaramouche moans as you push the tip past the rim. you're sure he didn't mean to, but it still escaped his lips. slowly, you push just the tip in and out, watching intently as the skin spreads around the gland, swallowing it greedily.

"you stretch so beautifully, scara," you coo, a soft blush on your face. "so incredibly beautiful"

"stop— stop looking!" scaramouche growls. "it's—" he gasps loudly when the tip enters him yet again, face already red from all the blood gathering in his head.

"it's what, scara..."

"it's— ugly…"

at this, you click your tongue and stop. "ugly?"

scaramouche becomes angry, deflecting from his quickly rising shame. "yes, ugly. seriously, stop with this stupid game you're playing, i don't need you to act like you're into th—"

you thrust into him, deep and hard. scaramouche's words are lost in a strangled gurgle as his eyes roll back.

"it seems i need to fuck that thought out of you."

with one roll of your hands, you shorten the rope connected to his tied wrists, tugging them upwards. slowly, you start to roll your hips back, watching as the rim catches and slides over your cock. you moan. "aah, scara… you look so, so pretty like this"

"fuck… you… ngh— a-aahn…"

you breathe heavily. "fuck. fuck, scara. you take me so well. look at you, moaning like a slut..."

"shut— shut up. fuck. i'll kill you. i swear i'll fucking kill y— MGH!" you slam back into him. any further protest is drowned by the sound of thighs hitting flesh in sharp slaps as you start pounding into him. harder and harder you thrust back inside, needing to reach deeper, faster, harder.

it doesn't take long for scaramouche to lose his composure. on the surface of the coffee table, he rolls his head almost limply to the side. his eyes are blurry with pleasure, but still he tries to look at you out of the corner of his eye - to make you see exactly what you are doing to him.

you breathe a laugh, panting hard. under scaramouche's mouth, a steadily growing puddle of drool forms. he twitches, legs giving in.

you grab his hips so hard his skin will certainly bruise. scaramouche is not yet allowed to stop taking you. you stare and stare, fucking him until the world starts to tilt, until your cock feels numb from sheer pleasure, until you start twitching so hard that it's visible on the front of scaramouche's stomach—

you cum hard, gasping for air. white stars form in your vision, and you can feel your hands tremble on his soft skin.

"haha…" you laugh, out of breath. under you, scaramouche whimpers quietly.

after a moment, you pull out slowly. a thick line of cum connects the tip of your still slightly twitching cock with scaramouche's warm, fluttering hole. "ahh… fuck. my cum… hahaha… deep… deep inside you…"

scaramouche lets out another whine. his hole clenches before releasing a white drop of liquid. he whimpers, trying to say something.

"mh?" you ask, using your thumb to smear the droplet around the throbbing hole. "speak up, scara…"

amidst his wordless whimpers, you push your thumb inside and laugh again, feeling scaramouche milking it powerlessly.

"i wonder when you came…"

"mmglh…" scaramouche answers. when something warm touches his freely leaking cock, he flinches lightly. a moan tumbles over his lips. with the palm of your hand, you rub the tip of his soft erection.

"or rather… how many times." scaramouche's eyes slowly roll backwards. with a grin, you raise your hand back up and glide your tongue over the palm, humming appreciatively at the taste. "yum ~"

"no…more…" scaramouche finally breathes. "can't…" your arm slings around his belly. with ease, you lift him up. "ahn—"

"no more? no more, scara?"

"no... more..."

"but baby..." you place a soft kiss on his temple.

"we were just getting started."

[formatting shamelessly stolen from scara smut writer @hanxku]

[yuoimia]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ HEY, HANDSOME

summary: you’re shameless with your antics, and he hates loves it. characters: kinich & wanderer notes: fem + flirty reader, relationship is not established, but you’ve known each other for a while, wanderer’s is super short and messy bc i didn’t know how to execute my ideas well, wc: 580

kinich

“Are you free next week?”

Kinich glanced up from the base of the tree to where you sat casually on one of the thick branches. Sunlight streamed through its delicate leaves, spilling onto your hair, casting a familiar shadow he breathed in the first time you two met.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing you with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“What does she mean!? Are you STUPID-“

A momentary flash of yellow and green materialised for a split second, not without the usual explosive expressions, before being promptly booted with the irritated flick of Kinich’s right hand.

“Stop smirking,” he sighed, not coming out nearly as stern as he intended. “Out with it, and come down; my neck is starting to hurt,” he continued, turning away, trying to seem as composed as possible. Not now; he cannot be succumbing to nerves and sweaty palms. Why was his mind so foggy? Absolutely no helpful excuses formulated in case he faltered any further.

You let out a disappointed huff. “Fine,” Kinich could almost sense the roll of your eyes from the back of his head. “Make sure to catch me.”

“Wait-“

It happened in a split second, his arms subconsciously reaching out as you slipped down with no hesitation.

Almost instantly, words of disapproval (which included his typical empty threats that he seemed to forget within the next ten minutes) bombarded your ears as one arm held you from the back of your knees, another supporting your back. “Imagine if I didn’t catch you…you need to think before you do things…”

“But you did either way,” you shrugged nonchalantly at his frustrated face, enveloping an arm around his neck to rest your chin on his shoulder. “So…you free next week?” you whispered conspicuously, adjusting yourself to face him properly. “I’m running out of ideas for commissions, you know?”

And you swear you’re hallucinating. You swear you might actually be delusional.

“What if I told you,” he mused at the intimacy of the shared closeness. “That you never needed the commissions for my attention in the first place?” he responded, holding back a smile.

wanderer

“You look terrible.”

The unexpectedly rash comment causes him to jolt his head upright, his eyes instantly meeting the owner of the familiar voice and malicious remark. A strange feeling washes over his body as he relaxes his posture almost completely, careful to avoid seeming too relieved.

“Likewise,” he countered, scanning you with a look of supposed disinterest. Except he wasn’t disinterested at all, thoroughly noting down your appearance and mannerisms. Loose ends of your braid had fallen out of their original position, a vibrant rosy blush below your cheekbones, likely from exhaustion the way your chest rose quicker than usual.

“…likewise?!” you gaped incredulously, seizing a mirror from a pocket of your jacket.

You’re the one that told me I looked terrible.”

“You know I didn’t mean that at all.”

“And you know that, too.”

“You’re supposed to say that you’re tired and hungry,” you muttered disappointingly, fixing your braid in the matter of a few quick movements.

Confusion flooded his mind at the sharp diversions in conversation topics. “Why would I need to say that?” he replied slowly, surveying your face with greater interest and intent, as if thinking that if he stared hard enough, the deepest secrets of your mind would be magically revealed.

A victorious smile and wink adorned your face as you extended a hand. “So I can offer you lunch, handsome.”