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bluerosefox · 7 days

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GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #danny kept writing letters to jason even after his announced death #jason todd #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #deaged ellie #Jason asks Alfred about the letters #and Alfred says he nor Bruce had the heart to open them since they were addressed to Jason #instead Alfred put them away but because he hasn’t gotten a letter and with their chaotic lives he forgot #Jason is conflicted #should he reach out? to his old friend #Also what did Danny mean in his last letter? Deaging? with #he reads the other letters and realize the stories of a ghost boy might not just be stories #Danny is living in Gotham with Ellie #he cut some ties in Amity #He’s done his best to stay off the Bats radar though #he doesn’t wanna be dragged into the hero business again #He does meet RH when Ellie and her classmates are kidnapped though #what happens next is open ended #maybe dead on main? idk

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fredwkong · 4 months

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Taking a Trip

Arne was more than excited to visit Vancouver for the first time. Everyone said that he could have easily seen beautiful mountains on a trip to Switzerland, but Arne wanted something a little bit extra inspiring on a continent he had never seen before. His life at home had become a little monotonous at his corporate job, and the dating pool was as unpromising as ever for a shy, reclusive man in his mid-20s.

With his frugal nature, Arne balked at the hotel prices in the city, and quickly found himself looking at short-term rental sites. The prices were, if possible, even worse. Finally, he followed a link to a retro-looking gay room-sharing website and saw an ad that read: “Shared room, accessible, perfect for tourists.” The price was well within Arne’s range, and it was within walking distance of transit. He booked it without a second thought.

It was only as the taxi drove away after dropping Arne and his suitcase on the curb that he had second thoughts. He followed the instructions the owner, Julian, had sent him and went around the small house to the back, where there was an external door to the basement. All around the door were skateboards, leaning on the concrete foundation, each with a unique design painted on its underside. As he knocked, Arne felt a tremor up his spine, like an anticipation of danger.

Before he could react in any way, he heard heavy feet and voices behind the door. With a clunk of the latch, the door swung open to reveal a young man with dark, curly hair and a thin moustache with no shirt on his tanned, muscular body. “What’s up, bro? You must be Arne,” he said in a deep, slow voice, holding out a big hand that engulfed Arne’s, even though they were the same size. “I’m Julian, your host.”

Arne opened his mouth to reply, but he lost his train of thought as an eye-watering stench poured off Julian’s bare, hairy muscles. He almost seemed to steam in the cold air. The smell was a mix of stale sweat, cooking spices, musky body odour, and, over all of it, the stench of weed.

After a moment, as Arne struggled to control the cough that threatened to burst out of him, Julian seemed to realise he was bare from the hips up. “Oh, sorry, bro,” he said, lazily backing away into the basement apartment. “I was, uh, busy.” He chuckled and moved away, grabbing a stained green shirt from an equally stained couch.

Reluctantly, Arne followed Julian through the doorway, and immediately realised that it was not only Julian who stank. The smell permeated the whole space, making Arne lightheaded. He wished that he had thought to bring air freshener in his luggage.

The basement suite was small, with low ceilings. Behind the couch was a counter to delineate the tiled kitchen, while in front of the couch was a low, beat-up table with a bong and other smoking paraphernalia scattered across it. To the side, a couple of doors led to what Arne hoped were the bedrooms and bathroom.

One door banged open, and another guy stumbled out into the living room. With a beanie over his dishevelled hair and his shirt on inside out, it was clear that he had dressed hurriedly. He looked over Arne with bloodshot eyes, his movements clumsy as he pulled on a thin jacket. “Hey man,” he grunted. As the man waved, another scent washed over Arne. This time, the skunk-smell was tempered with dried cum and a tangy, earthy flavour that hit the back of his throat.

“We lost track of time. Omar was just leaving.” At Julian’s gesture, Omar brushed past Arne and out the door. Arne turned to see him grab one of the skateboards leaning against the concrete stairs before the door shut behind him.

Arne was still shaking his head in an attempt to clear out Omar’s stench when Julian grabbed his bag. “In here, dude.”

Julian led Arne back through the door Omar had burst through into a room with two twin beds, exactly as small as Arne had feared. “Obvi, I won’t have guys over while you’re here, bro,” Julian said, handing Arne a spare key. “But if you like, we can always push the beds together for extra sleeping space.” He raised a lascivious eyebrow at Arne.

Blushing furiously, Arne made several aborted gestures. “Uh, no, no, no thank you,” he muttered, his accent thickening.

“Your loss, bro.” Julian raised both his arms to show his hairy armpits, posing as his musk assaulted Arne’s nostrils. “Just tell me if you change your mind, right? If you need me, I’ll prob-ly either be here smoking and painting, or over at the skate park, smoking and skating.”

Chuckling dumbly, Julian left the room. Moments later, while he sat on his bed and trying to work up the courage to leave, Arne’s nose was tickled by a waft of thick, numbing pot smoke.

It was just a few days, Arne reasoned. He’d be out all day anyway. He probably wouldn’t even see Julian that much, even if they did sleep in the same room. Plus, with a quick check of his bank balance, Arne knew that any alternative sleeping arrangements would be utterly impossible.

Arne forced himself to stay out late that night, exploring Davie Street, but his jet-lagged brain forced him back to the basement suite by midnight. Disheartened at the sight of a light on in the tiny ground-level window, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Julian was painting a skateboard in the living room, a half-smoked blunt in one hand. Not even the acrid smell of the paints and lacquer could overpower the stench of weed and musk in the tiny space. “Evenin’, bro,” Julian slurred as Arne blinked his eyes and tried to adjust to the thick, musky atmosphere. “Hey, come sit with me.”

“I have to go to sleep,” Arne protested, even as he walked to the spare seat on the couch and lowered himself into it. He remembered that he had resolved earlier not to touch the couch, since it was covered in who knew what kind of stains, but it was already done.

“No worries, this’ll help you sleep, bro,” Julian said, waving away Arne’s excuse with his blunt and then taking a deep pull off of it. He blew a stream of smoke into Arne’s face.

Arne spluttered. “Wh-what the hell!” He’d smoked a few times, but he was hardly a stoner. He could already feel a contact high working its way through his system, loosening his muscles and overwhelming him with sleepiness. For some reason, it also left his body feeling strangely tight.

“What design should I put on this board?” As he spoke, Julian leaned back on the couch and laid his arm across the back. Through the haze in his mind, Arne realised Julian was shirtless again, with musky sweat dripping down his sides from the bushes in his armpits.

Julian was still talking, something about dragons and complementary colours, and Arne just nodded along, too fixated on Julian’s body to care. He had never liked smelly guys, but something about Julian had Arne’s cock flooding his boxers with precum.

As Julian took another hit off his blunt, Arne realised that he could smell the salty tang of his precum in the air. Looking down, he could see a slick, spreading stain on his jeans. How long had he been sitting here? He thought that he should be embarrassed, but working up shame seemed like so much effort. He was so relaxed, sitting here on the couch, breathing in Julian’s sexy musk and clouds of pot smoke.

The rest of the night was a blur. Arne was so tired. He vaguely remembered Julian’s face looming over his, dripping sweat into Arne’s mouth. At some point, Arne thought he must have taken his shirt off because he got so warm and sweaty sitting on the couch. Finally, they had moved to the bedroom, where Julian had kept talking while Arne tried to calm his dripping cock enough to fall asleep.

Arne woke up slowly the next morning, cocooned in the scent of musk and weed. He started to roll over, but realised suddenly that there was a pair of sweaty arms around his chest. One of Julian’s fingers brushed across Arne’s bare nipple, and he moaned uncontrollably as a spark of pleasure shot to his slick, precum-smelling crotch.

His face burning with embarrassment, Arne carefully extricated himself from Julian’s bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He wondered why his body felt strange and top-heavy until he switched on the light. In the mirror, he saw a pair of massive pecs on top of his slender torso, the big nipples erect and pink.

Despite his horror, Arne still found himself feeling oddly horny. Looking further down, he saw an unfamiliar, half-hard cock between his bare legs—he had slept naked!—still leaking thick, clear precum that gathered in big drops before falling to the floor.

There was something seriously wrong with this apartment, and with Julian. Arne struggled to think, but the scent of his precum was quickly filling the little bathroom, making his head foggy. He had to…He had to…He had to touch his fat man tits.

Arne watched in the mirror as he popped his sweaty pecs, and then grabbed them with one hand. Not only were they real, they bounced hypnotically as he kneaded at the muscle. A finger brushed over his pert nipple, and Arne moaned again. His voice sounded strange. A little bit too deep, and slower than he was used to.

Would he feel even better if he pinched his nipple? As Arne went to grab his opposite nip, he struggled to remember what he had been thinking about. It had been something way more important than his bouncing pecs…

The thoughts dissolved as Arne started to tug on his sensitive nipple. He moaned loudly, his legs buckling as jolts of pleasure engulfed his body. The trickle of precum from his cock grew into a continuous stream as he knelt on the bathroom floor, mindlessly tugging on his pecs.

Arne barely noticed the bathroom door open until a pair of strong arms grabbed him under his shoulders and started to haul him to his feet. “No cumming yet, bro,” said Julian’s relaxed drawl next to his ear. “You’re not nearly done yet.”

By the time Julian handed Arne a plate of poptarts, Arne’s horniness had mostly faded back to a low hum, which spiked at the scent of Julian’s unwashed armpits. Arne wondered if he should feel embarrassed to be sat, naked, on Julian’s couch, his insistent cock still slowly leaking tangy precum onto the seat.

“Yesterday was a lot for you, huh bro?” Julian said through a mouthful of poptart. “I bet you just wanna stay here and hang out with me all day.”

Arne frowned. He was supposed to go to the suspension bridge today…No, that sounded like a lot of work. He’d much rather hang out with Julian. He had no idea why he’d thought Julian was gross or uncool. His smell was utterly intoxicating.

“What were you planning to do today?” Arne asked, after he’d eaten a few bites.

Julian shrugged, shedding runnels of sweat from his pits. “I was gonna go to the skate park and hang with some bros, but you need me more, bro.”

“What do you mean?” Arne was independent! He didn’t need Julian around! But it did feel nice to have someone hot and manly like Julian looking out for him, he realised.

“You can’t be left alone right now, bro.” Julian had finished his breakfast, and started to set up the bong on the coffee table. “So we’re gonna hang out, I’m gonna smoke, and then you’re gonna help me with some boards.”

Before long, Arne was floating comfortably, a little stoned from how much smoke billowed out of Julian’s sexy mouth. Julian got to work painting a skateboard, but after a few minutes he turned to look at Arne, a strange smile on his face.

“Come over and help me, bro.”

When Arne slid down to the floor next to Julian, his host raised one tanned, muscular arm. “I’m so sweaty, bro,” Julian said. Arne agreed, watching a rivulet of sweat emerge from the dark hair in Julian’s armpit, adding to the heady musk in the room. “If you could just, like, lick it up for me, I’ll be able to focus so much better.”

Arne frowned. That didn’t seem like it would help at all. But before he could protest, he felt a strong hand on the back of his head, and Julian was pushing him into his musky armpit.

The smell overpowered any of his protests. Julian’s musk was baked into his skin, and taking it straight from the source was far more intense than smelling him at range. The smell of sweat filled Arne’s mind, and he started to lick and suck at Julian’s armpit hair without realising it. The rank taste filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, and Arne felt his leaky cock start to flow again. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter than this. As Julian kept painting, he moaned whenever Arne’s tongue pushed against an especially sensitive spot.

As he laved his tongue over Julian’s tight belly button a while later—time didn’t really matter—Arne started to feel itchy all over his body. As he ran a hand over his arms, he felt the resistance of thick hair. All over his body, Arne felt long hair growing. Before long, his precum didn’t even fall onto the skin of his hairy thighs, it just got lost in the hair.

With his new fur, Arne found himself sweating at least as much as Julian in the heat of the little room. When Julian took a break from painting to grab some lunch, Arne noticed a new smell filling the air. He was emitting his own flavour of musk now, like Julian’s, but with a bit more of a richness to it from the precum dripping between his legs. He couldn’t help but give his armpits a sniff, licking up what he could reach of his own taste.

Julian returned and grinned at Arne. “Damn, bro, you’re almost ready.”

“What?” Arne looked up at Julian. It felt like he was seeing through a thick haze. It was so hard to think. He had to get outside and get some fresh air. But where were his clothes?

Julian held out a brownie for Arne. “Here, bro, this’ll help that brain of yours along. It’s my special blend.” He winked a dark eye, and Arne obediently took a bite of the brownie from Julian’s hand.

While Julian got back to his painting, Arne felt himself feeling slowly, but insistently, hornier. From licking up the sweat at the top of Julian’s back, he moved lower and lower, until he was licking at the very top of Julian’s musky asscrack. His cock felt iron-hard and huge against his thigh, a continuous stream of precum trickling into his sweaty leg hair.

Julian groaned. “Oh, bro, if you’re gonna get in there, let’s do it for real.” Putting the freshly finished board aside, Julian rose to his feet and pulled Arne up as well.

Arne felt so tall. The floor was so far away. All he could see was his hairy belly and thick, drippy cock as he followed Julian through the door to the bedroom. Then, all he could see was Julian, lying on his back with his legs hooked over Arne’s hairy shoulders. At last, Arne was back in a place that made sense, looking into Julian’s asscrack, licking up the musky sweat on his firm cheeks.

As his tongue dove into Julian’s hole, Arne remembered the first time they had skateboarded together. With his natural musk, it was hard for Arne to make friends with other skaters, but Julian had skated right up to him and invited him back to his place.

As he lined his cock up with Julian and rubbed his copious precum over the shaft, Arne remembered growing up in Vancouver. Dealing weed had been fun before legalisation, but now his job at the dispensary was pretty easy. Arne spent most of his time perfecting his skating tricks or smoking up with Julian or their other musky skater friends.

As he thrust against Julian’s prostate and felt the smaller man begin to tighten around him and cum, Arne remembered how much he loved his buddies. He was the big guy of the group, with his big, hairy muscles and fat, leaky cock. He wasn’t much of a thinker, but he’d do anything for Julian and his bros.

With that thought, Arne felt his balls tighten against him as he unloaded a huge, creamy load in Julian’s ass. As he shuddered, collapsing on top of his bro, there was a knock at the door.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s my next guest,” Julian groaned, whining a little as Arne pulled out. In addition to selling custom skateboards, Julian made extra cash by renting part of his room to gay tourists. Arne loved Julian’s musky, pot-smelling basement, so he thought that sharing the space a bit more was a great idea.

Julian pulled a pair of relatively clean sweatpants up his legs and wiped the worst of his cum off his chest with one of the shirts on the floor. “Just grab some clothes, bro,” he said over his shoulder as he shut the door behind himself.

As he pulled on his XL sweatpants and grabbed his hoodie, Arne listened to Julian introducing himself to this new guy. “What’s up, bro? You must be Yadu. I’m Julian, your host.” The spiel sounded strangely familiar. Careful to leave the hoodie unzipped so he wouldn’t stimulate his oversensitive nipples, and careless of Julian's cum slowly drying in his chest hair, Arne crammed a beanie over his hair and stepped into the living room.

A shrimpy African guy was looking in horror at the room, a small suitcase hanging from his weedy arm. Arne waved at him, and the guy looked like he was about to gag as a wave of Arne’s thick, precummy musk washed over him.

“Sorry, bro, we lost track of time.” Julian was pulling on a shirt in the kitchen. “Arne was just leaving.”

Nodding to Julian, Arne brushed past Yadu and headed out the door, grabbing his skateboard from where it was leaning against the wall. He had to go meet up with Omar at the skate park anyway.

This story is a belated holiday gift for @rakurairagnarok! Here's to a very sexy, transformative new year, my friend ;)

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #reality change #dumber tf #musk tf #stoner tf #all fwkong

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stealingyourbones · 8 months

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Short DPXDC Prompts #884

Tucker is in his apartment on the outskirts of Central City just minding his own business when the ground absolutely shakes from a massive impact of something very heavy and very big crashing into the ground. Tucker investigates. Seeing a smoke trail roughly an hour out, he drives as close to the crash as he can before trekking through a forest to see… a crashed spaceship. Inside is a very damaged alien wearing a strange green uniform. They look at Tucker and smile, unable to move with very visibly broken legs and a massive gash pouring blood from their ribs. Tucker has so many things to say to this person, First of which is “How can I help you” and second one being “what the fuck what the fuck whatthefuck.”. All of those questions will never be answered as the aliens' eyes unfocused and their breathing halted. A glowing green ring slipped off their finger and floated in front of Tucker. “Tucker Foley of Earth. You have the ability to overcome great fear. You have been chosen.”

#dpxdc #bones prompts

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satoshy12 · 3 months

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Bat Archer

Danny, during a new power going awry, finds himself transformed into a spectral bat. And it turns out he can still use his sonic scream/ghostly wail while doing it.

So while playing in CW Tower in his new body, Danny discovers a portal he didn't see before with cool new things! And he did the only normal thing. He flew into it. If it were bad, clockwork would have stopped him!

Danny was now in Star City, and he helped the hero as a bat. He kind of likes this form; it's fun to use.

Green Arrow wasn't sure what he saw when he saw the bat use a Black Canary scream against the goon who was behind him.

But Oliver was a simple hero; he did dibs! As he saw the tiny bat with Dinah's powers.

He now has a new Meta Bat sidekick! An adorable white bat with green eyes.

Imagine his surprise as the bat turned into a tiny child! With black hair and blue eyes. Yeah, he and Dinah are now parents again! And Roy is a big brother.

Danny had no fun being taken with that hero. He seemed to be having fun, and he learned new things! If Vlad were this way without being creepy, he wouldn't have a problem with a mentor.

Danny's human form is him having a bow and arrow, and in his Bat phantom, he doesn't have it, but he uses ghostly wail and ghost powers. And flee if it's dangerous or he is tired.

Oliver walks most of the time with Danny sleeping in his green Arrow hood. When Danny is a bat and bored,

+ Danny was able to find the OG. Roy, who was 1 arm after a short time, Oliver asked Danny to find him. Danny took a short time to find him.

++ Yeah, Green Arrow had a Bat sidekick before Batman had one. Batman has just his Robins.

One of Danny powers is a small heal, so he helps as Arrow Bat the people in the city who are attacked by doing first aid.

#danny phantom #dc #dcau #dc comics #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp #dp + dc #Green Arrow #Bat Danny #Real Bat #Roy Harper #dinah lance #justice league #batman #young justice #Clockwork #Star city

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disneytva · 2 years

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We're Going Offline it's time! You'll be okay without it! 🎮 We're Going Offline!

In this cover of the catchy bop, “Ain’t No Doubt About It” from ZOMBIES 3, Cricket from Big City Greens tries to convince Remy to unplug from technology and enjoy a day outside with no Internet!

#Big City Greens #BCG #Chris Houghton #Shane Houghton #Broken Karaoke #Dan Siegel #Disney Channel #Big City Greens Shorts

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icanhearcolors · 7 months

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I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway.

He was something different now.

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already, he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there.

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here.

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor.

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?”

His voice is darker now. Persuasive.

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms.

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him.

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 #i have a problem

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sully-s · 23 days

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Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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icyg4l · 2 months

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PAC: Why Did You Reincarnate as a Woman?

For this Pick-A-Pile, I am going to continue with my Women’s History Month series, where I uplift, inspire and/or relate to women on this platform. This reading is a bit of a life path reading and a past life reading but it’s more general. So take whatever resonates and leave what doesn’t. Without further ado, please pick a pile!

Left-to-Right (1-3):

Pile 1: If you chose this pile, this is definitely for my girls who like to move around. I think that you’re someone who was meant to be rich, you definitely have expensive taste. In a past life, I think that you were into the esoteric world and into the arts. You dibbled and dabbled in a little bit of this and that. But I don’t think that you were able to find stability in your past life. But you had a clear vision for yourself. So this time, you’ve reincarnated as a woman to gain financial stability and independence from the debts of your past life. In past lives, you could have been non-committal or always wanting to rush into things. And as a result, you reincarnated without ever having a satisfied spirit. As women, we are expected to be the nurturers and sidekicks to men. But you, Pile One, are definitely the main character. You’re a free spirit and a force to be reckoned with. You follow the beat of your own drum. But remember that the goal is to feel happy with where you already are. Your spirit has a lot of fire but don’t burn it out trying to be everywhere all at once. You were born to be the non-comformist and that’s okay.

Signs: Gemini, Taurus, Leo, Sagittarius.

Cards Used: 7 of Cups, 5 of Wands, Queen of Discs, 9 of Discs, 2 of Discs, Ace of Discs, The High Priestess, The Hierophant, 3 of Swords, The Star, 4 of Discs, The World, 8 of Wands and Justice.

extras: beyhive. saweetie. white nails. green eyes. born with heart issues. short-term career path. life path number five. pirates. bohemian style. theatre kid. paint. big city girl.

Pile Two: If you chose this pile, you’re definitely someone who is described as a pure spirit. What’s funny is I channeled those Snapped interviews of people saying their friend was “the light in a dark room”. You have the tendency to make friends easily. You’re very introverted. That’s how it’s supposed to be. In a past life, you could have suffered from depression; perhaps you were in a mental hospital. You were burdened with a reputation that wasn’t true to your character. You were an outcast. Maybe you could predict death & people despised you for it. I think you felt unloved and misunderstood. This life is supposed to be a clean slate for you, Pile Two. I think that there was a lot of gossip about you. But this time, you carried over the scars from being a target of gossip. Maybe you feel like you don’t really have any friends. Maybe you have a weird relationship with trust & you end up trusting the wrong people/none at all. Maybe you keep people at an arms length but you’re still a friend to all. I think that you reincarnated as a woman to reclaim your power and the right to be here on this Earth. You make the world go round, Pile Two. Don’t forget that. Never feel guilty for having fun.

Cards Used: Justice, The Chariot, Knight of Wands, Page of Cups, 3 of Cups, 3 of Discs, King of Wands, 10 of Wands, Queen of Swords, The Magician, Ace of Swords, 9 of Cups, Ace of Cups (RX), Ten of Swords, The High Priestess, 7 of Cups, Queen of Cups and The World (RX).

Signs: Sagittarius, Scorpio, Aquarius, Libra.

extras: nurse. break my soul. ellie goulding. codependency. microsoft. computer geek. smiley emoji. venusian. dmv. pills. fasting. making friends with outcasts. working with autistic children/elderly people.

Pile Three: If you chose this pile, you’re probably a person who struggles with their faith. This doesn’t come from nowhere & it’s not new to you. It’s in fact true to you. Today, you’re described as someone who is rebellious or maybe even lazy, but somehow you never complain about your circumstances. You’re like Trish De La Rosa. You keep a job! But in a past life, you were like a moody teenager. You never really saw the good in things. You were very negative. You held grudges and shunned people if they pissed you off. You could have been a gang member or you were an advocate for civil rights. Either way, your mindset was very black-and-white, no in between. As a result, I feel like you can struggle with following the rules today. I also feel like you have the tendency to be anti-religion/anti-Christianity, which is the basis as to why you struggle with your faith. Someone could have told you that you had “loose” ways as a child and this lit a fire under your ass. Misogyny in the church, but also in general is a reason why you have this fighter spirit. You have a fighter spirit, Pile Three. You’re here as a woman to take back what’s yours. You’re here to help other women realize their worth, reclaim their sexuality and transmute their pain into something beautiful, Pile Three and you will do it successfully.

Cards Used: Nine of Swords, The Star, The Emperor, Ace of Wands (RX), Ten of Swords (RX), Two of Discs, Eight of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Sun (RX), 4 of Discs, The World, 4 of Cups, Justice (RX), 8 of Swords, The Lovers (RX), The Hierophant, Princess of Swords.

Signs: Scorpio, Aries, Capricorn, Pisces.

extras: detention. good luck charlie. rapper. obsessed with cats. megan thee stallion. enough (2002). independent women. scarlet red. queer rights activist.

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #hoodoo #tarot #tarotreading #astro notes #pick a card #pick a pile #divination #tarotcommunity #tarot deck #pick a reading #pick an image #pac reading #spirituality #tarot pull #tarot pac

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 5 months

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Fucking Period (Fluff)

Bayverse!Raphael x reader

Your period is back, as annoying as ever, so your big brute of a boyfriend decided to make your time a little more comfortable.

Warnings: Periods, period pains.

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The city was quieter than usual as the night settled in, causing the four turtle brothers to call their patrol short that day. In the lair beneath the city, came through the opening to their home, each of them scattering out, seeking out their favorite post patrol activities. Leonardo going straight to his room to take care of his katanas, Donatello going to his lab to work on his newest project, Michelangelo going straight to the kitchen to find snacks, while Raphael looked around for you, his girlfriend, while taking off his protective gear.

You lay curled up on the couch in the common area, wrapped in a blanket. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as you winced, clutching your abdomen. It was that time of the month, and the cramps were hitting you hard. You tried to distract yourself with a movie, but the pain made it difficult to focus. You cursed the nature of your human anatomy, before growling in pain, hiding your face further into the pillow on the armrest, pulling the blanket closer around you.

Raphael entered the area, his eyes immediately locking onto you. He could tell something was wrong from the way you winced and held your stomach. Concern washed over his usually tough exterior as he made his way over to you.

"Hey babe, you okay?", he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle as he crouched down in front of you. You had always loved that side of him. The big teddy bear hiding beneath all his muscles and roughness.

You looked up, offering a weak smile. "Just dealing with some killer cramps".

He frowned. “Cramps?”

Another wave of painful pressure fell against your pelvic area, causing you to groan out in pain and annoyance, closing your eyes shut. “Fucking period”.

Raph's expression softened further. One of his big hands made its way under the blanket and found your hip, making small soothing circles with his thumb. You shivered slightly at the feeling of cold air under the blanket, but hummed in delight at the feeling of Raph’s hand.

Human periods weren't a new thing for Raphael. Even before the two of you started dating, he had experienced times where you would be sprawled out in the lair, groaning in pain. Back then he learned that the best thing he could do for you was to be there. Be there for you, and bring you anything you asked for.

Raph leaned forwards, placing a soft kiss on your hip bone, before once again letting his fingers soothe your skin once more.

"Thanks, Raph", you replied gratefully, already feeling a little more relaxed by your boyfriend's sweet care.

Raphael smiled softly at you before taking a seat next to you on the couch, his large frame providing a comforting presence.

"Anything else I can do?", he asked softly, his hand still providing a comforting feeling against your skin.

You hesitated for a moment before responding. "Actually, some cuddling would be nice".

A hint of a deep green blush crept across Raph's cheeks. It was amazing how after so many years of friendship and dating, Raphael would still blush when you asked him to cuddle you.

He nodded. "Sure thing, Shawty".

He shifted on the couch, sliding down between you and back of the couch, lifting the blanket to make room for himself. You scooted your back closer against his plastron, and he wrapped his muscular arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. The television continued to play in the background, becoming white noise in your ears. You had already forgotten what show was playing, being more focused on the comforting feeling your big boyfriend provided.

As you nestled against his plastron, Raph ran his fingers through your hair soothingly. "You should've said something sooner", he muttered, his snout pressed against the back of your head. “Nothing happened tonight, so I could have stayed with you”.

"I didn't want to bother anyone," you admitted.

"You're not a bother," he replied. "I love you and want to take care of you, just like you take care of me. We take care of each other".

You turned over on your other side, now facing the hazel yellow eyes you had fallen so deeply in love with.

“I know”, you said, before nuzzling your head under his chin. “I’m just happy that you’re here”.

Raphael chuckled lightly, once again continuing the comforting circling of his hands in your hair and on your hip. You let out a relaxed breath, melting closer to his form. The pain of your period didn't disappear completely, but the warmth of his embrace made it more bearable.

Hours passed as you drifted in and out of consciousness, comforted by the steady rise and fall of Raphael's breath and the small kisses he pressed against the side of your face. It didn’t take long like this before you finally fell asleep against Raph’s plastron, comforted enough to forget the feeling of your period for a moment.

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its-time-to-write · 11 months

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three times ‘cause i’ve waited my whole life

I am apparently incapable of writing anything short. This has no plot. I think the only warnings are like swearing and innuendo. It is literally just Jamie and the reader being in love. I cannot stress enough how little plot this has. Enjoy.

three times ‘cause I’ve waited my whole life It’s one of Richmond’s biggest games. They’re facing Man City on their turf, an away game, and it’s a big deal.

It’s not important in that it really matters to their status in the premier league, but important because it’s Man City. Jamie has thrown himself completely into training, so you rarely see him except to eat dinner and then fall asleep, his arms around your waist as you watch tv, fingers combing through his hair. He’s awake before you are, but as soon as you hear him switch on the bathroom light, you make your way downstairs to make him breakfast. The team nutritionist had a strict diet for him, one modified by Roy to account for all the extra training. You rub sleep from your eyes as you brew a pot of tea, waiting for Jamie to come downstairs.

Arms snake around you as you wait at the stove for the tea.“You don’t have to do this,” Jamie says, kissing your neck. You smile and reach back to him.

“I know,” you reply, “It’s just the only time I really get to see you.”

Jamie pulls away and turns you around. You see that he’s frowning.

“I haven’t been a good boyfriend recently, have I?” he asks.

You smile, lacing your arms around his neck. “Jamie. This is just a part of life. You have a big game, you disappear for a while, I miss you and I adjust. You finish, win or lose, and we’re back. I knew what I was signing up for.”

He puts his hands on your wrists. “Yeah, but, like, we’re supposed to be talking to each other and shit. And I’m so tired all the time that I can’t think of anything to say. I also’ve been a shit listener. Can’t even remember what we talked about yesterday.”

You sigh, move his hands back to your waist, and then reach up to smooth the furrow in his brow.

“Remember when I had all that extra work last month and ended up working 60 hours a week because of everything that had to be done? I was up late every night, and all you did was bring me food and kiss me, then you left me alone. I think the longest we were together was when you let me sit with my legs on your lap for two hours. I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Yeah but-”

You cut him off: “Jamie. It’s just life right now. It’s not forever. It’s ok.”

He looks like he has more to say, but is interrupted by the kettle whistling. You give him a quick kiss and then point to his breakfast on the counter. You sit on the kitchen island while he eats, with your head on his shoulder until Roy comes.

—

Here’s the thing; no one knows you and Jamie are together. Sure, Roy knows. But Jamie loves Roy. Keeley knows. But Jamie said you’d love Keeley. (You did). Ted and Beard know, but only because they saw you two walking around the Richmond green late, late at night. (What they were doing on the Richmond green that late is beyond you, but hey). It wasn’t long after that that Jamie put a picture of you two up in his locker, so then all of AFC Richmond knew. But you weren’t public public. You had yet to show up in a tabloid or be seen with Jamie at a game or public event. You went to his games, absolutely, but you stayed in the stands, not the box.

He always got you a spot as close to the field as possible, but you would always meet up with Keeley and Rebecca after games to rendezvous somewhere else later.

You don’t mind. It doesn’t feel like Jamie is ashamed of you, especially because the people he cares about know. But you also know that you can handle it, and if he wants to go public and kiss you in the stands after a win, you would be ok with that. (You might be more than ok with that).

But as it is, no one knows about you. He knows where you stand on it, so the ball’s in his court. It’s been a year of this, but you just wonder how long it’s going to last.

—

Finally, finally it’s the week of the game. You had been staying in Manchester with Jamie’s mum, which was absolutely terrifying at first. It was not your first time meeting her, just your first time staying with her without Jamie present. You left a day before the team, so when they arrived Jamie sneaked away to come visit. You are sitting in comfortable silence on his mum’s porch looking up at the night sky, when he turns to you and says, “do you love me?”

You’re taken a little aback. “What kind of question is that?” you say. “Of course I love you.”

Jamie’s forehead is all scrunched up again, like it was that early morning. “What if I fucked my leg so badly I could never play football again?”

You laugh. “Not sure if you’ve noticed babe, but I’m not really a big football person. I’m more of a you person, so I guess there’s some overlap.”

Jamie is still weirdly nervous. “What if I play football till I’m forty, and you barely see me like it’s been? What if I’m always on the road and always training and all we get are dinners and shitty 3am breakfasts?”

He’s removed his arm from your shoulders at this point and you shiver, puffing out a breath into the cold air. He notices without saying a word and drapes his jacket around you.

“Jamie,” you reply slowly, trying to formulate your thoughts, “where is this all coming from? You know I love you. We’ve been together for a year, and this has never been an issue before.” As you’re speaking, you’re seized by a sudden, terrible thought: “Are you breaking up with me?”

The words tumble out so fast, you’re not sure he hears you until he’s looking at you, aghast.

“No, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” you reply. “But you’re acting all weird, and we’ve been together for an entire year and that’s the longest you’ve dated anyone and I just thought that maybe this was your way of letting me know gently that you’re over me.”

Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest.

Jamie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh. No. I’m not ending things. I want to be with you forever. I just get all freaked out in me head before games like this, and it’s been fuckin weird coming home, and I just want to win, you know, so that way all this time away is worth it.” He pulls you close to him again and you can feel his heartbeat slowing down to a normal pace, in sync with your own.

You sit there till his mum comes out to remind him that it’s time to go get some rest, and it’s not until you’re half asleep in Jamie’s childhood bed that your mind replays his words:

I want to be with you forever.

—

It’s game day. You send Jamie a quick love you! text and then slip into your Jamie Tartt jersey. It’s from one of his old kits so it’s a little worn, but you always put it into his laundry pile so it comes out of the wash smelling like him. It’s not something anyone would notice, but you know, and it makes you smile. You get to be in the stands and know that Jamie Tartt loves you and you love him, and at the end of the day he’s the one you get to hold. You give yourself a shake, and open your phone to figure out where you’re meeting Keeley.

—

“And Richmond wins, 3-2 with a smashing goal by number 9 himself, Jamie Tartt!”

You’re screaming and jumping in the stands, overwhelmed by the fact that we won, we won, we won! The Richmond team are piling onto each other, Dani on Isaac’s back, Sam and Jan Maas jumping up and down like kids. You lose sight of Jamie in the mix.

“Well Arlo, it looks like Richmond has once again, exceeded all of our low expectations.”

“That’s right Chris, all thanks to Jamie Tartt’s brilliant goal. Looks like he’s having a good time celebrating with the Richmond lads. Wonder what they’ll get up to tonight? But what’s this? It looks like Tartt has broken away from his teammates and is running to the stands! He’s stopped in front of a fan and it looks like he is kissing a very lucky Richmond fan full on the mouth!”

“Have you ever been so caught up in a moment that you’ve made out with a stranger, Arlo?”

“Can’t say that I have, Chris. Can’t say that I have.”

It all happens so fast, that you don’t even know how to process it. One moment you can’t find Jamie and the next he is leaping over the stands, catching you in his arms, and kissing you in front of the whole stadium as if no one else is around. When you finally pull away, breathless, he takes your hand and helps you hop over the wall onto the pitch. Not usually allowed, but you suppose they’ll let it slide for football’s golden boy. AFC Richmond has caught up to Jamie, and you’re all on the field, screaming your heads off out of the sheer joy of winning.

—

“You’re coming tonight, yeah?” Isaac asks you as you wait for Jamie by the team bus. It’s the day after the Man City game, and you’re back in Richmond with a plan to hit the town yet again, as though the night before wasn’t enough for them. (You actually wouldn’t know, because you were in a very nice hotel room with a certain striker).

“Yeah, you know the only reason we invited him anywhere is in the hopes that you’ll finally be able come along,” Colin adds.

Any story of Richmond’s win had a somewhat fuzzy picture attached of Jamie kissing you in the stands with some variation of the title “Tartt’s mystery girl.”

You laugh. “Yes, we’ll be there. It’ll be nice to actually be out and about with you guys. Family dinners are fun, but there’s more to life.”

Once you found out that Jamie’s whole team knew you existed, you made him invite them over for dinner once a month. It’s one of your favorite things, especially because they all bring food to share. When it’s warm you do pool parties and when it’s cold you play bracket uno. It was nice to meet Jamie’s family, whether he’ll admit that’s what they are or not.

“You ready, babe?” Jamie asks as he slings his arm around you.

“BYE TED!” you yell. “Ok. Now I’m ready.”

—

Sam closed his restaurant special for you all, and turned it into like a private club. You say like because it is, at its core, a restaurant. However, under Isaac’s supervision and creative design, he apparently has transformed Ola’s through rearranged furniture, dimmed lighting, and music into a place where AFC Richmond can celebrate their win without feeling crowded by strangers. You’re secretly grateful, because clubs are not really your scene. You’ll get all dressed up, sure, but you never know what to do with yourself once you’re there.

Speaking of getting dressed up, you were feeling yourself. You had a light blue mini dress, with an asymmetrical neckline and a single puffed sleeve. It was more a-line than bodycon, but hey. You like a little bit of a twirl when you spin. Your absolute favorite part though was that you were wearing two-inch silver block heels, with straps around your ankles. The dress plus the shoes made your legs look magical.

You and Jamie are in the bathroom getting ready, you fixing your makeup and him fixing his hair. He half-turns to you and points to his hair with a questioning look. “Lookin’ good,” you smile, and he smiles back.

“Oh, babe,” he says, tweaking his hair one final time, “I left my sunglasses back at the locker room, and I was wonderin’ if you’d be ok getting them with me before we head to the party? I just don’t want Bumbercatch stealing them.”

“Why would Bumbercatch steal them?” you ask.

Jamie shrugs. “Something about ‘no name, fair game.’ That’s how Jan Maas lost his favorite socks.”

You shudder. Why Bumbercatch would want Jan Maas’ dirty old socks, you have no idea. They must be really amazing.

You reply, “Yeah sure, I hate being too early to things anyway,” as Jamie absentmindedly kisses you on the forehead with a “thanks babe,” as he heads downstairs.

—

You don’t live far from the Richmond pitch, so you’re walking across the dark parking lot in no time.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Jamie says.

He’s swinging your hands as you walk. He looks nice, the sleeves of his cream shirt rolled up. Nice pants, nice shoes. Nice ass.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, momentarily distracted by the fact that this man is going to get laid tonight.

“No, I mean you’re always down for what-fuckin-ever, and you just let things bounce off you. And you like me, for my personality for some fucking reason? And I think about you all the time, when I’m gone or when, like, I have early training with Roy. And you make laugh because you stopped being afraid to be yourself around me. I just like you. And I meant what I said the other day, I do want to be with you forever. Not to freak you out or whatever.”

He’s stopped right at the doors and he looks so uncomfortable and earnest in a way that you’ve never seen before.

“I’m not freaked out, Jaim,” you say. “I love you, and you know I’m in it to win it with you. Now, let’s get those sunglasses and for the love of god, please don’t act this weird tonight.”

This elicits a chuckle, and he nods in concession. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The halls are dark and quiet as you walk to the Richmond locker room. It smells clean, for once. Like lavender. There’s a faint glow coming from the doors and Jamie pushes open the doors to the most magical thing you have ever seen.

There are candles on the benches and twinkle lights strung across the lockers. There’s a bouquet of flowers in the middle of the room and as you turn to Jamie, awestuck look on your face, you see him kneeling behind you, small black box in hand.

“Jamie,” you say.

“Yes, love,” he replies.

“What are you doing.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it comes out more wobbly than you’d care to admit.

He cracks a smile. “Eh, I hope it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing.”

You can feel a fucking tear forming in your eye and you will it to go away. You refuse to have streaky foundation.

“Love of my life,” Jamie begins.

“Yes,” you say.

“Oi, you’ve gotta let me finish.”

“Right, sorry, as you were.” You think your face is going to split in half with the size of your smile.

He takes a breath then continues, “there’s no one else I’d rather have shitty 3am breakfasts with, no one else I’d rather beat at MarioKart, and no one else I’d rather do life with. Will you m-”

He’s cut of by you kissing him like you have never kissed him before. After a moment, he pulls away and asks, “Is that a yes?”

You can’t help it, the furrow in his brow gets you every time so you laugh and reply, “Of course it’s a yes, you dummy!”

Jamie smiles and then yells, “Lads, she said yes!” and the blinds go up from the coaches office as the entire AFC Richmond team storms into the locker room. Dani and Richard are spraying champagne in the air as people hug you and slap Jamie on the back.

You find his hand amid the chaos and squeeze it.

“Can’t believe I were so nervous about this,” he says into your ear.

“Can’t believe you think you beat me at MarioKart,” you respond.

“Oi, we are not getting into this again-”

“There’s only one way to settle this.”

Jamie looks at you, then to all your friends celebrating, then back to you. “Think they’ll even notice we’re gone?”

You shake my head. “Nah,” you say, “let’s get out of here.”

Jamie smiles at me as you slip through six different lynx scents out the door. “You’re going down, Mrs. Tartt.”

“Only one of us is going down tonight, Mr. Tartt, and I can assure you it is not me!”

“You can say that again.” Jamie sticks out his tongue and wiggles his eyebrows at you, and your laughter echoes up into the night sky.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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mur4sak1 · 2 months

Text

How would genshin men react to seeing you in a dress?

A/N: Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3

Situation: that day in the city there was a big celebration that had animated the whole town. The people were elegantly dressed, they laughed, lived and joked, filling even the smallest streets with joy. Due to the size of the city you and your man hadn’t met yet, until he, searching through the crowd, managed to see your face. But due to your appearance he was unable to immediately approach you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Kaveh

Diluc=People's shouts of joy could be heard from every corner of the city and they were so loud that they even echoed inside the buildings. Diluc, who until now had been working in his studio, was ready to go to the streets to enjoy the last moments of the party. As soon as he went out the structure, the muffled music that could be heard from the rooms was louder than ever, giving him a bit of relif after so many hours of effort. He went down the stairs of the city until he reached the long balcony overlooking the main square, tiredly leaning on it with his arms. His eyes looked at the crowd dancing casually and without following the rhythm throughout the area until a group of them fell, perhaps because they were too drunk. A laugh escapes from Diluc's lips which makes him roll his eyes at the clumsiness of what he had seen. However, a girl arrives to help the men on the ground to get up, she was dressed very well in a long tight dress which highlighted her curves and with his back free from tissue, illuminated by the light of the setting sun. The group thanked her and staggered away and Diluc thought of how kind she was to help them, even if the fault of that situation was theirs. The woman turned and the redhead immediately recognized your face, even though it was very far away; he had always seen something more in you and this event sparked something and him. It was so obvious, his face had turned the same color as his hair, a scene that if Kaeya had seen it, it would have been a great excuse to make fun of his brother for life.

Kaeya=The celebration in Mondstadt heated up the streets. Everyone was joyful, excited and drunk, and Kaeya loved to take advantage of these situations to flirt with anyone he could see and then walk away without accomplishing anything, just to have fun, just for the sake of feeling powerful. The crowd had gathered under the statue of the archon anemo and loud music led everyone to a free and wild dance that filled the square. The blue-haired man was leaning against the side wall of the church, surrounded by a few women who drooled over him and asked to tell them all his amazing adventures. “…and that's how I defeated a horde of Hilichurl completely alone” he concluded proudly while the women listened to him impatiently, as if they couldn't contain their excitement. As he spoke, focused on driving the desperate ones even more crazy, he saw a female figure pass in front of him. She was too focused on carrying a large bouquet of yellow flowers in her arms and not tripping over her heels to care about anyone around her. The long floral dress she wore fell softly on her hips, leaving her chest partially empty and allowing the flowers direct contact with her skin. The long hair had a few small green leaves, probably blown away by the wind from the bouquet and landed there; Kaeya had noticed all this in a couple of seconds. She walked along the entire pathway alongside the church and then approached an elderly lady and, crouching down slightly due to his short height, handed her the large bouquet. When she stood up she shook his dress and moved his head to make any residue fall out. It was in that moment that Kaeya recognized you, brighter than any little girl present, the only woman he really wanted and that, for some reason, he could never get. The old lady thanked you and you lowered your head slight, and then joined Barbara and Amber who were talking not far away. Having disappeared from his vision, Kaeya regained his composure and this allowed his attention to return to the small crowd surrounding him which was now bothering him quite a bit. “Okay misses, story finished, I have to go now” he said, then he made space between the women and walked away. In return he received disappointed gasps, but he didn’t care anymore, those women no longer interested him. He just wanted to get rid of it so he could finally reach you and try, for the umpteenth time, to conquer you... but you weren't going to give him an easy win.

Wriothesley=The festivals in Fontaine were always large and involved all members of the big region. The city was decorated in every corner, filled with various activities and food stands to spend the day in company. That year Furina was extremely excited by the idea and decided to give all of her employees the day off so that they too could appreciate and enjoy the hard work that was behind the creation. It was now late morning and Wriothesley was walking through the streets near Neuvilette while they were looking for a place to have lunch; they were sure that everyone would share their idea shortly, so they hurried and entered in a small pub that made the best sandwiches in the city to avoid a painful and long row of people. As soon as they entered, however, they found a crowd of drunk figures laughing and dancing to the music in the large area surrounding the counter. With his hands in his pockets, Wriothesley followed his friend to the cash desk, ready to order lunch and leave the restaurant as soon as possible. As he was selecting his choice from the menu, heard Neuvilette say hello to someone, and as he looked up, he saw Navia sitting at the counter with a beer in her hands. The man greeted her with a nod and returned to concentrating on his lunch. At a certain point his attention was called again by the woman's words “and don't you say hello to y/n?”. Wriothesley was confused, he was always alert and attentive to everything! You weren't there, otherwise he would have definitely seen you! But he was wrong...he looked up again and behind the blonde he saw a familiar figure in a tight short dress and high black boots, with loose hair framing her lightly made-up face. Their gazes met and the man immediately recognized your eyes, being struck by your appearance. He had never seen you so elegant... of course, he had always considered you an attractive woman in work clothes but he would never have imagined that you could be so attractive in a simple dress. “Won't you say hello to me Wrio?” You replied with a light laugh. Finally the man regained his composure and greeted you, but did so with a slight stutter. This made Neuvilette frown, and as he looked closer at Wriothesley, he immediately understood why. So he immediately turned to Navia and asked her if they could go for a walk around the outside streets to discuss some work things. Initially she refused because she wanted to enjoy the party with her friend and without thinking about duties. The man, however, looked at her intensely, pointing to something in the dark-haired that made her burst out laughing. Still in ecstasy, she stood up and started to leave for the fateful work talk, laughing. Maybe due to the alcohol or the liveliness of the moment but what she said to Wriothesley made him blush and become even more agitated than he already was: "If I were you I would keep more control of your friend in public hahahah". In fact the man hadn't realized it but y/n's dress had not only left him speechless, but also the one who was creating the bulge under his trousers.

Alhaitham=It was now late afternoon and the party was coming to an end. The tired group of people was slowly decreasing and everyone was heading back to their homes. Alhaitham had walked alongside Tighnari all day as they tried, in vain, to contain Kaveh's contagious enthusiasm at every stand they passed. The city was not very large in size, but the numerous and intricate streets that were used as elevators to go up to the upper floors of the structure made it like a labyrinth and it was difficult to meet family figures. In fact, the man had not met you even once and this was remarked several times during the afternoon by Kaveh, who seemed to be your biggest admirer. Now half drunk, Alhaitham took him home and made him lie down on the bed, where he fell into a deep sleep. He went into the kitchen to prepare a quick dinner but while he was waiting for the water to boil to prepare a soup, his thoughts constantly ran to all those times that, after hearing your name from the mouth of his roommate, he searched for your face in in the middle of the crowd, without however having any results. Since he was a resolute man he decided to leave the house for a walk, in the hope of putting peace to the confusion in his head. By now the streets were deserted and walking had become much easier and more relaxing than it had been in the previous hours. Alhaitham took a small road that climbed upwards to reach a small gazebo that he loved so much, because it was isolated and had a magnificent view. He mentally retraced the road: as soon as he finished the short covered corridor he would have to turn left. He took the last steps but as soon as he turned around he realized that his isolated spot was actually already occupied. There was a woman from behind, sitting on a small stone bench, with her face turned towards the red sunset, the light wind was moving her hair and with it the hem of the short dress she was wearing. For the first time Alhaitham could not think; he was known for his intellectual qualities superior to the norm, and for always being a rational and cautious man in his actions. But this time it was as if his mind was turned off, struck by what his eyes were seeing. The woman moved her face slightly to observe the view from the other side too and the man immediately understood who he was looking at, it was you. The rotation of your head caused you to glimpse a male figure, gasping in fear. “Oh it's you Al, you scared me” you said giggling heavily, relieved it was him. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just didn't recognize you dressed like that,” he said, finally managing to compose himself. “The view from here is beautiful, right?” you said, turning your gaze to cover your embarrassment. The man answered after a while with a simple "definitely", which however was certainly not aimed at the sunset, but rather at the one thing that his eyes could no longer stop looking at. “Will you sit here with me or will you stand the whole time?” you asked, finally making the man come forward and sit next to you. You two looked at the sky for some time, in silence, without saying a word. However, if the two had opened their ears more, they would have heard a familiar laugh of joy coming from not far away; it was Kaveh who, woken up by the fall of the boiling pot, had gone out to get angry at Al for not paying attention but found him, after not a short time, with you. This made him explode with joy because he knew in his heart that he was partly the cause of everything that was happening, but also of his friend's first and only irresponsible behavior for which he could have teased him for a lot.

Kaveh=The city was so full of people that many had started to pass among the tables where other people were eating and drinking together. In fact, Cyno complained several times about this behavior while he was at a small square table with Kaveh, Alhaitham and Tighnari eating some skewers. The party was desert themed and for this reason you could occasionally see some child dressed as an Egyptian deity running through the crowd and stumbling due to the long white fabrics and the mask that partially covered their vision. Between one laugh and the next, time passed quickly but not having seen you yet caused a small sadness in Kaveh that he tried, as usual, to hide by transforming himself into the life of the party. After a couple of hours the boys were still sitting at the table talking about this and that when the blond felt hands covering his eyes and a figure standing out behind him. "Who is?" he asked . "Guess!". He immediately recognized your voice and showed the joy he had of knowing you were close with a big smile. “Y/n I know it's you, now let me see” he said laughing. You immediately did as requested and gave him a big hug from behind, wrapping your arms around his slender shoulders. Then you broke away and went to the other side of the table to say hello to all the boys. Due to the fact that you had suddenly appeared from behind, Kaveh hadn't yet been able to see you properly, but when he found yourself in his visual field, the boy was amazed. You wore a long white satin dress with two holes in the sides from which hung chains full of diamonds and gold decorations. The arms were covered by a thin white veil attached to the dress by a single seam at breast level while the back was completely empty, exept for a chain that started from the shoulders and went down in a "Y" shape until it found the fabric. In her hair there was a pin with a white flower and the face was decorated with long black eyeliner. Throughout the greetings, Kaveh had his eyes fixed on your outfit, so much that he didn't even realize that you were in the company of Collei (who was also equally dressed in the theme of the party) who immediately handed you a drink. The girl asked if you and her could join them and, after a positive nod from Tighnari, pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. You also did the same thing, but sat between Kaveh and Cyno. There was so much chaos and it was difficult to communicate between the music and the singing crowd. You sipped the drink your friend had offered you for the first time, exclaiming out loud that it tasted great, sure that no one had heard you. In reality you were wrong, as Kaveh took the moment to get close to your ear and whisper a phrase that would surely soon have more than unexpected results: "you're very good too".

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc x reader #wriothesley #wriothesely x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader

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