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honeydippedwaffles · 9 months

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Smallest Drop

Summary: Tav overhears Astarion complaining about their situation and decides to do what she can to make it a little better for him and she ends up surprising him in the process.

Tav isn't referred to by name. There might be a part 2 if this is well-received.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 1.8k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It started when she overheard a passing comment from behind her, grumbled in response to something Lae’zel said.

From the earliest parts of the day, they’d been making their way through difficult terrain; surrounded by thousands of bugs and mud up to their ankles. She’d tried not to complain about it though Astarion never shared her focus on quiet suffering and he had a fair point.

Though they’d managed to set up a fairly comfortable camp outside the grove – not wanting to impose nor deal with the druids for too long – they hadn’t really found any chance to properly bathe since their abduction.

The late afternoon glinted into her eyes as an idea presented itself.

She slipped away from the group almost excitedly to find the abandoned house where she’d spied it not long ago. After making sure it contained no nasty surprises, she’d left. It didn’t really have a roof and the majority of it had been burned down by some form of magical fire but most importantly, it had a tub.

One night together shouldn’t have made her so weak for the elf but despite all his sweetened words and falsities, he captivated her attention. She knew he meant little by it but sometimes those words made her days brighter regardless.

And she wanted to return the favour given how the muddy path came from her badly thought-out route.

The river running close by provided her with clean and cool water, not the easiest to move in large amounts but still able to fill the tub. It didn’t leak (a minor miracle) and she managed to use a little more of her already-exhausted magic to get a few charms warming the water up.

She smiled at her work proudly and left the charms to do her work while she made her way back to the grove to get some soaps.

Her shoulders shook a little as she eyed her small surprise. Proud and excited, she now faced the greatest of tasks.

Encouraging Astarion to actually step away from camp.

��No, thank you,” he said, dismissed her with the casual wave of a hand. “I’ve had quite enough traipsing through the forest for one day. If you want to continue finding every possible swamp insect to attack you, you’re welcome to be my guest.”

She sighed. “But I have something to show you. It’s a surprise.”

He smiled, strained. “My, aren’t you a desperate little thing. Maybe I’ll join you a little later in the night but for now, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy or the interest.”

“No, it’s not…” she groaned. “It’s just a bath, alright? I overheard you complaining about being dirty earlier so I found one for you.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. Come along. Those runes aren’t going to last forever and I know you’re going to fuss about the water temperature.”

Astarion chuckled and she immediately knew he didn’t believe her. “I appreciate the creativity, darling. Really, I do, but you’ll find direct offers are far more effective on me.” He leaned closer and she became suddenly aware of how many eyes watched them from around the camp. “But if you’re really going to such lengths, I’m not going to deny you forever.”

Flushed, she stepped away and ducked her head. “Fine. I’ll use it myself but you better not complain once more about it.”

She ignored the slightly concerned expressions of her friends as she stormed back into the tree line by herself. Why she even thought he’d appreciate it… she shouldn’t have even bothered offering it to him. She really needed to be more selfish if she wanted to not get turned down by the vampire spawn again.

It stung more than she expected it to, even if she wasn’t offering anything more than an actual bath.

She brushed her fingers over the surface of the still-warm water when she got there and sighed. It still felt like a waste, even if she used it. Amazing how homesick she’d grown for her house when stuck out in the wild with nothing more of comfort than a single bedroll.

Maybe she should have stolen one of those beds from the goblin den they cleared.

The floor creaked and her hand flew to her weapon, spun around only to find a very arrogant elf who appeared annoyingly surprised.

“My, so it wasn’t even a ploy alone,” he said. “You genuinely managed to find a bath. I respect your dedication if nothing else. There are certainly easier ways of seeing me undressed.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the water. “I was trying to do something nice for you but as you’re not interested, feel free to return back to camp.”

He stepped close enough to brush his fingers against her cheek. “Whoever said I wasn’t interested?”

“You did. In very direct words.”

“Well, things change. I’ve decided you’re quite right. It’s been far too long since I got to wash and you’ve been so sweet, setting it all up for me. I couldn’t be rude and turn you down right now, could I?”

Cursing the elf beneath her breath for his indecisiveness, she moved to walk past him. “Enjoy.”

Once again, she surprised him and Astarion took a second to respond, calling to her as she reached the edge of the charred flooring.

“You’re not joining me?”

She looked back at him. “Am I meant to be?”

“Why, yes. I can hardly be expected to do things like washing my hair all by myself. What if I get lonely or attacked?”

She frowned at him but he kept smiling at her in the same insistent way he did when he wanted something. The corner of his lips pulled up as though he knew a joke and didn’t want to share it. She couldn’t help herself but relent under his burning gaze; he’d done the same thing when she’d agreed to let him drink blood from her throat. Perhaps she should be concerned with where her willpower went when it came to this man.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll help with your hair if you really need.”

“How fun.”

He insisted on being as distracting as possible when he got undressed. His constant glances at her met nothing in return but she couldn’t help glancing at the scars as he lowered himself into the tub.

Their ridges made her uncomfortable. Not knowing what it said frightened her for Astarion’s safety rather than her own.

Nothing good ever came from runes carved into flesh.

“There’s no need to act so shy, beautiful. You’ve seen me in far more compromising situations than this.”

She wouldn’t call their night together compromising but she ignored the comment regardless. His soft sigh of relaxation as he settled into the water worked wonders for clearing up her irritation.

How he managed to be so magnetic astounded her. She found a spot to sit behind him and slowly, gingerly, began to help him with his hair. Despite being ridiculously soft considering how long they adventured in the wilderness, it needed some careful care and attention.

She took care to stay gentle when she found where tangles turned into knots and worked them free without pulling. He gave a small hum when she had to give a soft tug and she took it as an okay to use a little more force.

“We don’t have much to work with but I did manage to get some things from the grove,” she said. “It won’t be up to your standards but I don’t think anything really is.”

Cagey about his past, all she knew surrounded the small snippets he gave her when upset or ranting. She doubted he’d ever had much time to fuss over which hair products he used, too busy watching over his shoulder for a constant threat. He still did so now when he thought nobody could see. His meditation never held him deeply as sleep took her.

“Regardless of whether or not it’s professional, I won’t complain about your skills with this.”

“Skills at detangling your hair?”

“At winning my favour.”

She frowned a little and focused on the white locks where they curled between her fingers. “I’m not only doing this because I want to impress you.”

“I’m sure you have other motivations,” he hummed, teasing. “But you know you’re more than welcome to join me whenever you’re ready. You chose a good-sized tub for both of us.”

She ignored him again, instead focusing on working out a tight knot. Once done, she encouraged him to lean back a little so she could massage the soap gently into his hair, rubbing soft circles against his scalp until his eyes fluttered closed and the smallest hint of relaxation showed in his expression.

Good. He carried far too much tension and she stopped herself from continuing the slight massage down to where she could see the stress in his neck and shoulders. How uncomfortable it must be but she didn’t want to encourage whatever strange idea he had about this situation.

Still, even if she hadn’t planned anything, she couldn’t deny her attraction.

She wanted to press her lips to the pale skin of his neck and trace the path of the water droplets as they pooled against his collar bone. She wanted to trail her hands over his sides and pull him close.

She coughed to stop her thoughts before they ran too far.

If the parasite in her skull didn’t kill her soon, she may just die from the way this elf made her heart pulse unnaturally fast.

“Everything alright?”

He sounded… well, still as flirtatious as ever but more concerned than she thought he would. She snapped her attention back to him and almost lost herself in those stunning eyes.

If she wanted to, she could so easily fall prey to his sweetened words and he really wouldn’t mind. He would encourage it even.

She finished washing the last of the soap from his hair and stood up somewhat uneasily. Pride still shone in her chest as he sat up properly, appearing far cuter than she anticipated with his hair falling flat against his skin.

She saw the invite on his lips before he even said it. Watched him flick whatever switch he had to draw her in and she hurried to leave.

“I’ll see you back in camp, alright?”

His confused expression followed her as she stepped away from the building but he didn’t call her back. She found her way back to camp with a slight heave to her chest and a desperate need for a distraction.

Though she really should have thought it through before she asked Lae-zel to spar with her. The bruise kept her up for the entire night – long enough to realise he didn’t come past for a taste of her blood in the evening.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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sweet-s0rr0w · 6 months

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Vintage Drarry Fics

Thought I'd put together a list of some of the old Drarry 'classics' of my teenage years, for anyone interested. All posted between 2001-2006, compiled using my (bad) memory, a lot of googling, fanlore.org and numerous different LJ rec accounts (including the incredible @capiturecs). I checked as best I could, but if anyone knows of any fics that their author doesn't want to be shared, please let me know and I will of course remove.

Please also note that these fics are of their era, when attitudes may have been different, and they may not all be grammatically perfect. I haven't reread all, as my own tastes have changed, but most importantly do note that they may not be tagged - don't blame me when, for example, Harry dies tragically on a rooftop at sunrise...

Hogwarts Era (mostly 5th-7th year)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by Duinn Fionn/geoviki (M, 105k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

All Bets Are Off by Allegra (R, 53k)

I am SICK of Good-little-innocent!Harry...Enter Playboy!Harry and his Overinflated Ego, a challenge, a bet, a couple of Really Cunning Plans - and there you have it, "Forty days and forty nights", Hogwarts style. Mayhem ensues!

Angels and Devils by beren (E, 52k)

Harry defeated Voldemort and his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He's trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but, thanks to the method he chose to destroy The Dark Lord, something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Artful Facade by Sky Sorceress (T, 66k)

Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.

Beautiful World by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 70k)

Harry finds out he's going to die on his 16th birthday. He embarks on a journey of self-destructive behaviour and drags Draco along for the ride.

Beneath You by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 113k)

Draco had no idea that the repercussions of stealing Potter's journal and shoving it down the back of his trousers would be so extreme.

Bond by AnnaFugazzi (M, 173k)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

Checkmate by Naadi Moonfeather (T, 245k)

Draco has the perfect plan to get Harry Potter and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind?

The Cicatrix Cycle by Ivy Blossom (NC-17, long!)

Three parts: Origins, Haven, Belong

Draco In Darkness by Plumeria (T, 41k)

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

Eclipse by PhoenixSong/Mijan (T, 287k)

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But, when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Friend Like Me by Lady Vader (M, 11k)

Draco's rendition of the love story that never was.

How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back by Durendal/Eleveninches (R, 12k)

Snape tries to hang himself, Draco enters an alternate reality, and Harry Gets a Clue. Humor, SLASH, naughty language, and other Evil Things. Harry/Draco, Snape/James/Lucius.

Irresistible Poison by Rhysenn (PG-13, 124k)

Under the influence of a love potion, Draco learns that poison doesn't always bring death -- there are other ways to suffer and live. Chemical emotion runs feverish as Harry and Draco discover the intoxication of love.

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 7.8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Love Under Will by Aja (R, 116k)

In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...

playing the game, living the lie by Abaddon (R, 159k)

Set in Sixth Year, both the wizarding and Muggle worlds are threatened as Voldemort plans a final revenge. Past, present and future collide as all must consider where their loyalties lie; who they are, and who they want to be. Amidst it all, Harry and Draco begin a dangerous journey of understanding. Is it possible to leave everything you thought you were behind?

Resolution by Frances Potter (R, 322k)

When you've spent six years fighting evil, all you really want is a quiet time. But when your name is Harry Potter the chances of that are very slim. A series of vignettes chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make the year end seem a very long way away.

Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself by Ari Munami (PG-13, 31k)

Harry goes through some er... changes in his Sixth Year and everyone, including Draco Malfoy, sits up and takes notice.

Snakes and Lions by GatewayGirl (M, 139k)

When Ron and Hermione get together, they notice only each other. A nightmare prompts Harry to return alone to the empty Chamber of Secrets, and leads to a new look at an old enemy. Harry enjoys the company, but with Bellatrix Lestrange actively hunting him, how far can he trust a Death Eater's son?

Something Impossible by epicylical/Cassandra Claire (PG, 6.4k)

As punishment for an act of vandalism, Draco is forced to perform three tasks to win Harry's forgiveness - only they don't turn out to be exactly the kind of tasks he'd been expecting. With wet shirtless Draco, paint-covered Harry, and Proust-reading Goyle.

Transformation by amalin (E, 98k)

In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, he must face the consequences of the attack on the Department of Mysteries and the effects of Voldemort's return. And in doing so, he finds that even your enemies can teach you valuable lessons—about the world, and about yourself.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Post-Hogwarts

Adagio in G Minor by furiosity (NC-17, 18k)

Seven years after Hogwarts and the war, life continues in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is rich, bored, and slightly jaded. Harry Potter is famous, busy, and somewhat disillusioned. They've not seen each other since school ended. What would happen if they were to cross paths again? What if it involved music?

Big Dick, Come Quick [PDF] by Calanthe (NC-17, 204k)

Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.

Draco's Escort Service by Cheryl Dyson/dysonrules (15, 12k)

Draco's job is to escort travelers through the dangerous, war-torn countryside. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco expected.

Left My Heart by Emma Grant (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Malfoy, P.I. by Nancy (R, 60k)

"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Queen of Hearts by scoradh (E, 65k)

A spectre is haunting Harry - the responsibility of his destiny. It looms over his future and, more importantly, over the future of his friends. Harry is determined to exorcise this spectre for the greater good, but on the way, he enters into a few unholy alliances.

Tissue of Silver by fearlessdiva (R, 76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (M, 58k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

#drarry #fic recs #vintage drarry fics #loved putting this together #blast from the past

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lucvly · 5 months

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— christmas headcannons with chris. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: fluff, cursing, mentions of sex, not proofread as always.

a/n: this is soo self indulgent help !! i love christmas fr.

— he’ll act like he literally doesn’t give a shit about christmas but on december 1 he’s already staying up late thinking about what he’s gonna give you.

— i don’t even wanna hear discourse about this but this man acts like a child around the holidays. he’ll enjoy december like he’s a 10 year old child who still thinks santa’s real.

— my man is quick to hang up those lights. it’ll deadass be mid november and he’s already asking you when you’re gonna decorate because he wants to help you.

— gingerbread house making is a must. he loves it. you do it at least three times in december because it’s by far one of his favorite traditions. of course he ends up building something that doesn’t look nearly close to a house but A for effort.

— you get matching ugly sweaters obviously. it’s your job to get them every year, and they progressively get worse. chris always complains about how itchy they are LMFAOO.

— baking christmas cookies with him is such a chore for real. you can’t even let him open the flour because it either ends up all on the floor, or on your face. don’t even ask him how to preheat the oven because those cookies will end up burnt.

— most times you have to make three or four batches of cookies because the first batch turns out awful, the second one: burnt.

— once your relationship gets really serious, you two make christmas cards and send them to your close family and relatives. it’s corny, sure, but you both love doing it.

— once every year, you go with him and his brothers for a late night drive just to see how people decorated around the neighborhood. chris always ends up falling asleep on your shoulder in the backseat while nick is yelling about how the lights should’ve been hung higher or how the reindeer is out of place.

— you best believe you’re writing letters to santa. it’s unserious but chris loves doing it, especially because he gets to write something along the lines of: “santa, all i want for christmas is my girlfriend under the tree. thx. — C” LMFAOOAOA sorry.

— you’re absolutely making matching ornaments. they have your initials on them it’s adorable. though decorating them is painful as hell because chris always ends up throwing glitter at you.

— takes elf on the shelf so serious like calm down!!! he better not catch anyone laying a finger on that dumbass elf or he’ll go absolutely insane.

— going christmas shopping with him is adorable. he gets so excited over what to get his brothers and his parents AWW, and he also gets a present for trevor obviously.

— you are never gonna know what that man gets you for christmas. he hides it so well it surprises you each year to be honest. you’re out here thinking he didn’t even get you a present and he’s already packing up at least three.

— definitely an expensive gift type of boyfriend, i’m talking tiffany necklaces, chanel bags, dior, ysl. and he doesn’t even care because seeing you happy makes him 10 times happier. (“baby, you didn’t have to– oh my god.” “i know, but i wanted to. you deserve it.”)

— of course you also get him cute and expensive gifts but you could seriously give him a rock and he’d cherish it as if you just gave him a gold bar.

— you two will absolutely watch christmas movies together, especially romcoms. he loves christmas romcoms LMFAOO. he’s the type to complain about the main character idc.

— he hangs up a mistletoe on his door just so he can tease you and give you a kiss every time you walk into his room. (“look, mistletoe, you gotta kiss me.” “chris i swear to god.”)

— christmas dinners are hilarious bye. he’ll deadass be eating 3 or 4 plates with no shame at all. you’re staring at him in disbelief and he just looks at you with his mouth full like “😊”. at least he’s happy LMFAOO.

— he gives you at least three presents. the first one is marked “from: santa, to: y/n” obviously you know it’s him LMFAO he thinks it’s cute and you just leave him be. second one is marked “from: chris, to: his girlfriend.” as if he wasn’t the one marking up those presents BYE. third one is “from: the best boyfriend ever, to: the prettiest girl.” he’s so cute somebody sedate me !!

— one hundred percent asks nick and matt to figure out what you got him for christmas. you’ve figured this out over the years so you don’t even give them hints anymore LMAOO.

— the worst jokes over the holidays seriously. (“hold on. babe, which cooking seasoning is the most festive?” “chris–” “christmas thyme.”) he needs to be stopped lord have mercy.

— secretly loves decorating. he’ll decorate with you all day fr. ornaments, mistletoes, the tree in general is his favorite. he cannot deal with putting up lights though. it pisses him off so badly– (only because he ends up tangled in them).

— i just know he makes hot chocolate with water. nuh uh. you had to teach him the correct way (with milk) because it was seriously getting on your nerves LMAO.

— he gets so lovey dovey over the holidays. he’s also horny 24/7 but that’s completely besides the point HELP. hands around your waist, arm around your shoulder, hand holding, everything.

— matching pjs YUP. he loves matching christmas outfits with you LMAO especially pjs. y’all have like four matching pj sets every year it’s so cute.

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bakuliwrites · 8 months

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Just to Be Held- Astarion x Reader

I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first.

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Baldur's Gate III

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader

Tags: Discussions of sex, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional, body autonomy, Baldur's Gate III spoilers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Affection, Gender-Neutral Tav, Astarion's POV, Tiny Kisses, In this house we cherish and love Astarion the way he deserves to be cherished and loved

Summary: Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Read here or over on my AO3.

Sometimes, when Astarion drinks from you, it's overwhelming. The sensation of his teeth piercing your skin, pin-pricks in your tender flesh, warm blood welling up to greet his lips. He can feel himself drowning, every nerve ending in his body lit aflame. It's almost too much as iron bursts across his taste-buds, flooding his throat with the heat rushing through your veins.

He drinks to sate and never in excess. He's certain that if he let himself partake in too much of you, his mind might never rest, though it is tempting at times. All the years he's spent in darkness, forced to consume the blood of pests and creatures far less appetizing than you, have left him longing for sweeter meals. But he hadn't accounted for how utterly overwhelming that might be.

When he's finished, he pulls back, breathless and overheated. It's as if he's febrile. Sometimes, he's filled with a clarity, a strength unlike anything he's ever felt before. Other times, his skin feels like it's on fire. Like with the slightest coercion, he might combust. In these moments, all he really wants is to rest. But he’s never known rest, and he’s not quite sure how to ask for such a thing. So he resorts to what he knows: teasing you with tantalizing promises of illicit rendezvous’ or making some sort of snide remark before stalking off into the night.

Sometimes, his encounters with you end in said trysts. Most often, however, they don’t. It’s almost frustrating how unbothered you seem when, after he’s done feeding from you, he doesn’t initiate anything further. You sit almost passively, waiting for Astarion to make a move, seemingly content either way the night ends. If you’re not doing this for sex, he wonders, then why the hell are you helping him at all? Surely, no thinking creature would want something so important as their blood to be taken from them without getting something in return. At least, that’s his logic for it. It almost makes him trust you less for not demanding recompense.

So, no stranger to confrontation, Astarion decides it’s high time you gave him some sort of explanation. As you enter his tent that night, he greets you with a steely gaze, a frown deepening the lines of his face.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” you quietly venture, boots crunching over gravel. A small branch snaps under the weight of your steps, causing you to flinch as if the rest of your party is going to hear it from where they slumber. When they don’t come bursting through the tent flaps, your shoulders relax once again and you turn back to the pale elf before you. Your furtiveness is almost endearing, Astarion realizes, and irritatingly so.

“What are you getting out of this little arrangement of ours?” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest and passing you the most petulant gaze he can muster. He watches a look of shock pass over your face, before it settles into something pensive.

“I- I don’t know,” you mutter, “I guess- I haven’t really thought about it as something I would ‘get anything’ out of. It’s just- you need to feed. And I’m happy to provide.”

“You know, most people would expect something in return,” he reasons, dissatisfied with your answer, “It’s not as if what you’re doing is a minor inconvenience for you, like letting me borrow a hanky or something. I’m draining you of something rather necessary for you to live.”

“I mean,” you return with a shrug, looking rather flummoxed by his outburst, “It’s not like you’re taking a lot.”

“Tsk,” he huffs, realizing he’s not going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. Perhaps asking you was a fruitless endeavor from the start. Astarion drops the subject, pouting as you settle in to let him take what he needs from you. You bare your neck to him, relaxing on his bedroll as he leans down to sink his teeth into you. It’s always the same each time: your involuntary gasp as his teeth pierce your flesh, the combination of both his and your relaxed exhales as he drinks.

Maybe it’s the humid night air or maybe it’s his own frustration, but Astarion feels the fever in him build with each sip he takes from you. A pyretic euphoria, born of longing for blood more nourishing than what he had to resort to for two whole centuries. He feels satiated by you and it’s almost- embarrassing. He feels mortified to react so viscerally, so enthusiastically. He pulls back suddenly, watching you wince as he roughly removes himself from your neck. But the irritation on your face dissipates when you meet his gaze.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you offer, your voice so gentle, it hurts him, “You seem preoccupied.”

Astarion hardens his gaze, gritting his teeth and opting to remain silent. Of course he’s preoccupied, but it’s nothing he wants to delve into. Least of all with you. But instead you decide to pry, speaking up with a tender, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no,” he returns, glancing sheepishly away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, crimson smearing his pale skin. He bites the inside of his cheek, snagging it with his sharpened canine, hoping it’ll stop the stinging threat of tears in his eyes.

“You can go now. I’m done with you,” he coldly spits, avoiding your gaze. He hears the rustle of fabric as you obediently lift yourself from his bedroll and make your way to the tent flap. But instead of opening it and leaving like you normally would, you pause, your hand grasping the fabric.

“I like being with you,” you quietly explain, turning to face the vampire spawn, “You asked me what I get out of this arrangement of ours. Well, I just- I guess I just like you.”

Astarion frowns, arms still crossed and posture stiff as a board. But he can’t hold his silver-tongue, despite his upset.

“Unfortunate, really,” he murmurs, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips when you laugh.

“I don’t need to ‘get anything’ out of this time with you,” you go on, letting go of the tent flap and striding back towards him. You kneel down, eyes filled with a brightness Astarion can hardly believe is meant for him. A silence passes as you wait for him to respond. He fidgets with his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists before he finally allows his shoulders to slump and an exhausted sigh to escape his lips. His body still feels overworked, heated and unable to settle.

“I assumed that sex was what you wanted from me,” he starts, still unable to look you in the eye, “Stupid assumption. It’s the only thing I’m-”

It’s the only thing I’m good for, he wants to say, but stops himself.

“Well, let’s be honest,” he chuckles ruefully, trying to divert your attention from his unfinished statement, “I wanted that, too. I mean, how could I not.” He says this with a sly smile, something impish twinkling in his eyes as he sweeps over your form. But then his face falls and he casts his glance to the ground again.

“It’s just- sex isn’t always what I want,” he finishes, “And I assumed that it’s what you wanted. So I guess I was- I don’t know- worried that you would be disappointed when we don’t tear each other apart like animals every time I feed from you.”

Another pause, this time filled with anticipation. With anxiety. For some reason, when Astarion has been around you lately, he’s found himself incapable of holding his tongue. He spills his thoughts left and right to you. It’s terrifying, the effect you seem to be having on him. It’s taken him a long time, but still, he isn’t sure he should trust you. Yet here he is, regurgitating deep-seated fears that are better left buried in the rot that’s bloomed in his mind.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he hears you whisper, pulling him from worry, coaxing him from the tendrils of self-hatred and disgust that have entangled him for two hundred years. He glances at you, disbelief in his crimson eyes before a rueful smile breaks his shock.

“You are far too kind to me,” he chuckles, a cocky smile on his face.

“I mean it,” you return, brows crinkling your forehead, “We don’t even have to touch if you don’t want to. And if you don’t want to keep this arrangement anymore, that’s totally fine. I’d be happy to help you find another source of food. I won’t be hurt.”

He eyes you suspiciously, scanning you for any hint that you might burst out laughing at some sort of cruel joke you’ve made, or some sign that you’re absolutely bullshitting him. The look you’re giving him is almost naive. He scowls, nauseated by your sincerity.

“Well, I don’t mind physical affection,” he mutters, desperately trying to hold on to his air of indifference, “Just-”

His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away?

“All I’ve ever been is used,” Astarion admits, wondering if he’ll regret this admission later. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, like it always does. “I don’t get a say in what happens to my body. I don’t get a say in what happens to me at all.”

“Astarion,” you breathe, gently cupping his face and turning his head so he can meet your gaze. His eyes are filled with a deep sorrow, the desolation of two hundred years scarring every crimson facet of his irises. In you, he sees no ounce of malice, no smarmy flattery, or deceit. All he sees is you, offering him your kindness, offering your companionship, expecting nothing in return.

“What do you want?” you go on, “Right here. Right now.”

Astarion’s mouth goes dry. His blood, your blood, threads through his veins like white hot needles. His nerves feel open to the air, every brush of the wind on his skin like lightning shooting through his body. Overwhelmed. He’s so overwhelmed.

“I just want to be held,” he finally whispers, and the absolute devastation in his voice threatens to break what little composure is left in that tent.

“I think I can do that,” you return, smiling softly. You let him take the lead, laying back on the soft bedroll beneath, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do. He sits beside you, cautious. He is raw and he is new, shivering from his overworked nerves, cold from the overpowering feeling of sweet blood in his body.

Gently, Astarion lays his head down on your chest and tenses, unsure of what to do. When was the last time he was gifted a moment to just rest? To just lay in the arms of another? He can’t remember, and thus, he can’t even remember how to relax. He shifts uncomfortably where he lays, trying to find some position where his arm isn’t falling asleep. You give no protest, patient as he rearranges himself. Finally, he finds something suitable and goes back to resting his head on your chest.

“I can stay as long as you’d like me to,” you offer, your voice reverberating through your body, before you both fall quiet.

In the silence, Astarion listens to the powerful thrum of your heart, the way it beats in rhythm to an unsung tune. He hears the air constrict in your lungs when he first rests his head upon you, before you let out a deep, comforting sigh. Crickets chirp in a jovial dissonance beyond the fabric of the tent and a wolf howls sorrowfully somewhere in the distance.

Astarion can still taste the metal of your blood on his tongue. He can smell it rushing through your veins, nourishing and enticing. It mingles with the faint smell of whatever makes you you, whatever pleasant natural musk you have that has become so comfortingly familiar over the months. The curling smoke of the fire outside has woven itself into your clothing, though it is not unpleasant in scent.

Astarion glances up at you from where he lays, studying your serene face. Your eyes are closed, eyelashes feathering shadows on your cheeks. Your mouth is parted ever so slightly as you doze, lips evoking pleasant memories of the way they’ve felt against his skin in nights past. He lets his eyes rove for a moment, searching the tent ceiling as if he’ll find something particularly interesting up there. He doesn’t, except for a small hole he’ll have to patch, come morning. Though, it is nice to see a couple twinkling stars peeking through the broken fabric.

As his eyes flutter shut, Astarion feels the heat from your body, cozy and benevolent. He presses further into you, wanting desperately to feel your closeness. In response, your arm wraps around him, pulling him nearer. Your nails tickle his back as you rub small circles into it. Snowy ringlets caress his forehead when a breeze picks up the fine strands of his hair. The earth beneath him isn’t terribly comfortable, but between you and the bedroll, he doesn’t much care.

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion thinks he might feel peace. It’s very possible, he decides, that in this quiet moment, he feels safe. In your arms, he could let down his defenses. Wrapped in your warmth, Astarion could allow himself to be vulnerable.

He slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers, quietly whispering that he’d like it if you stayed the rest of the night.

"Also, if you could possibly not tell the others about this?" he adds, somewhat jokingly, "Can't let them think I've gone soft."

"Your secret's safe with me," you chuckle, before smiling softly at him and pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. He lets the feeling wash over him, calm and comfort him. When his body settles, when his mind finally manages to quiet, Astarion lets his eyelids fall shut. He lets you envelope him in your embrace. He lets himself sleep, knowing he’s safe with you. Astarion lets himself dream, and they’re the first pleasant dreams he’s had in centuries.

A/N: I normally do a banner for my fics, but I really wanted to use this gif I had made of one of my favorite Astarion cutscenes. It's where he admits to Tav that they're the first "thinking creature," as he puts it, that he's ever drank from. The line delivery is incredible, the way Astarion looks away is so heartbreaking and endearing. This small moment of vulnerability is one of the first ones we see from him and it just feels so special. I wanted to write a fic exploring how he might feel in regards to Tav letting him have the freedom of feeding from them. And I wanted to explore the idea that Astarion might find it odd if Tav doesn't expect anything in return. There's a later line in one of his cutscenes where he's very obviously self-conscious about the fact that he and Tav haven't been intimate in a while. His sense of self and value is so contingent on the fact that his body has been used for two hundred years. I wanted to write something for Astarion that would give him a peace, gentility, and rest, without sexual intimacy. Anyway, I could ramble on and on about this forever. Perhaps I need to make a longer post about it, so I'll get on that.

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ivestas · 1 year

Note

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant.

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group.

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you.

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.”

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!”

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally.

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease.

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?”

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that.

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission.

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc.

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm.

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds.

So you just did that: focus on them.

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough.

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms.

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”

You did just that—retreat.

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more.

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding.

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn.

You lifted the arm, examining the wound.

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise.

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications.

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together.

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view.

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?”

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face.

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak!

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly.

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.”

You expected—wanted—him to berate you.

But he didn’t. He was kind.

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.”

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost.

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?”

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly.

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.”

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!”

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.”

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.”

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed.

“Gimme your arm, kid.”

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.”

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly.

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar.

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand.

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly.

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded.

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy.

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...”

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?”

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.”

You laughed.

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you.

They really care.

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.”

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon!#john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

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deanbrainrotwritings · 5 months

Text

— HEARTBREAK FEELS SO GOOD

SUMMARY : dean’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s fucking his girlfriend in the closet... okay, seventy-three percent sure, now… and actually, he’s pretty sure it is his girlfriend… thirty-five percent sure.

PAIRING : dean winchester x OFC, dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : jeralynne mora (OFC), random sexy elf girl deserves a mention

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, praise kink, Dean dressed as Ken, cheating, p in v, smut, unprotected sex (don’t be irresponsible), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, consent is so hot and it’s really sexy when you ask and it’s so fucking hot to ask for consent multiple times to make sure it’s definitely yes still

WORD COUNT : 3.5k

A/N : fall out boy song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — anonymous sex and costumes. for now, I think it’s just a one part story. all morality has flown out the window for this one, mates. XX

Dean lost track of his girlfriend somewhere in the sea of horny, sweaty, dancing people. It was dark inside the overly crowded house, lights flashed and overwhelmed his senses, the music was as loud as it could be so that he could feel the beat of the music in his stomach. The alcohol was not settling right in his stomach tonight because of it, so he abandoned the red plastic cup on a random table.

He didn’t want to come to this costume party at all, but Jeralynne insisted. Four months, they’d been dating for four months and it’s almost Christmas. It’s cold as hell outside and he’s dressed in one fucking layer of a Ken costume—for her.

He couldn’t bring himself to break up with her, but she was thrilled to see him everyday, and he just couldn’t do it. When they sat in silence, the words rested heavily on his tongue, his heart would beat fast, and he just wanted to do it, but then she’d be sweet on him. He couldn’t break her heart, but he knew he had to. Maybe after Christmas, he couldn’t do this to her now.

At least the hundreds of people dancing and kissing provided warmth.

Dean walked up the staircase, side-stepping past couples humping each other and making out heatedly against the walls. He made a point to stare at girls and gave them smirks and a wink when they grinned friskily at him while kissing their boyfriends.

The walls were so damn thin for such a giant house, he was unable to escape the loud sound of the music. The bass vibrated through the walls, causing picture frames to shake. He nearly wanted to run out of the place and choose to freeze his balls off outside, but he finally saw her.

Jeralynne was talking to a girl dressed as a sexy elf. God, at least that sexy Zorro costume she was wearing tonight was getting him hot and bothered. He considered asking her to fuck him and maybe slap him around a little, but maybe it was too early in the relationship for that.

Instead, he went up to her in her tiny, tight leather dress and slapped a hand over her ass. She gasped and turned around to face him, that classic red cup spilling liquid over her hand. She glared up at him cutely from under the brim of her black Stetson, her eyes narrowing between the black mask tied around her head.

He stole the drink from her and handed it to the sexy elf. She immediately took the cup without a complaint and whispered something along the lines of, “go get ‘em, hot stuff,” into Jeralynne’s hair.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, but he could hardly hear her. He just smirked down at her and pulled her close to him by her waist, leaning in to smell her skin. So flowery, always. “Dude!” She tried to look him in the eyes, but he nipped at her collarbone and shut her up with the gasp that escaped her.

“You’re not drunk, are ya, sexy?” He asked against her neck, leavening a trail of wet kisses along her neck and above her breasts. He walked her backwards and pressed her into the wall as she squirmed in his arms.

“Uh,” she flushed, pushing her arms against his chest, “no, that wasn’t alcohol.” She stared up at him curiously, there was sexy, fiery defiance and irritation in her eyes that turned him on. He planted a kiss on her lips that made her gasp in surprise.

“Good,” he murmured against her mouth and trailed his hands down to grab her ass then squeezed, and ground against her thigh. She cursed softly when she felt his erection. “You look smoking hot in this costume and I wanna fuck you real bad. I found a spot, what d’ya say? You down?”

He stopped what he was doing to weave his fingers through her soft hair and tilted her face up to drop kisses over her jaw by pulling gently at the roots. She stopped resisting him and grabbed his face to kiss him deeply, moaning a soft ‘I’m down’ against his mouth that made him smirk.

“Awesome,” he murmured, nibbling on her bottom lip and massaging her scalp. “The spot’s just a closet actually. That okay with you?” He asked with a quiet laugh, moving her with him to where the nearest closet was. She laughed breathlessly against his lips and nodded. A little shiver moved over her body like a wave when he opened the door.

“Yeah, s’long as we both fit,” she teased, earning a deep chuckle from him. He closed the door behind him and grabbed onto the tight hem of her dress to leave it bunched at her waist.

“Baby, the less space there is, the closer I am to your sweet little ass,” he moaned softly. She cursed under her breath and swiftly raised her hands to loosen the red tie he wore.

She pulled him in roughly by his now-loose tie and he moaned before they even made contact. She captured his lips in a breathy kiss. Dean felt his resolve melt away when she licked past his parted lips. His heart skipped a few beats when she buried her fingers into his hair and tugged. He gasped into her mouth, met her sweet tongue halfway, and kissed her lewdly.

She fumbled with the buttons of his striped blue and white shirt as he teased the waistband of her lace panties. He breathed heavily against her lips and helped her unbutton the shirt all the way. Their noses bumped against each other and he dove back in for a deep kiss while she shoved the red suspenders over his shoulders.

He licked her tongue as his cock twitched, aching to be let out of the thin slacks keeping him from being inside her. He swallowed her soft moan, pressing against her mouth desperately, keeping her pinned between the wall and his firm body. The sweet taste of non-alcoholic eggnog overtook his taste buds, so he sucked her tongue into his mouth for a better taste, needing the flavour of her permanently.

She hummed softly and reached behind him with one hand to squeeze his ass. He pulled back slightly with a gasp, a wet pop resounding inside the closed space when he parted from her mouth, and a blush scurried up his face.

“You're the hottest Ken I’ve seen tonight,” she whispered, fitting a hand between their bodies and biting his bottom lip, tugging gently until he groaned in pleasure.

“Pretty sure I’m the only Ken here,” he retorted bashfully. “But… thanks.” She skilfully unbuckled his belt, and laughed against his mouth when he looked down to watch her slim fingers move quickly to unbutton his slacks.

She trailed her lips across his jaw, slowly pulling his zipper down, and nipped gently at his earlobe. He bit his lip and pulled her underwear to the side, slipping his middle finger through her wet folds. He heard her breath hitch, moaned softly at the swollenness of her clit, and felt her leg ride up his hip to open herself up to his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so needy, sweetheart,” he murmured, circling her slippery entrance with two fingers.

“Says the one who can’t shut up,” she teased with a smirk. He scrunched his nose, then he pouted at her. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck and slipped her hand into his pants. She cupped his hard dick in her hand and sucked lightly at his pulse. He moaned lowly, almost growling when she found the spot instantly, licking and biting his special spot.

He felt like he was going to combust. She snuck her hand lower and brushed her thumb over the wet spot his leaking cock left on the cotton of his boxers. With a whimper, he removed his hand from her pussy and sucked his fingers clean of her arousal.

“I don’t have a condom, baby,” he admitted, untying the lace over her breasts so he could open the leather dress. She slipped her hand out of his slacks and frowned, disappointed. “I’m clean, though, if you wanna keep going. If not, I can find other ways to please you,” he murmured, tugging the dress open impatiently to latch onto her breasts.

“Fuck…” she moaned, arching her back. She was so horny, she didn’t really want to stop, and his constant search for a yes turned her on. The guys she tried to date were so horrible that the bare fucking minimum was doing it for her. His lips felt soft against her skin, his stubble tickled her sensitive skin when he moved from one breast to the other. “I’m clean, too,” she gasped, reaching for his hips, she tugged him forward, and ground her pussy against his thigh.

“That’s a yes to fucking, then?” He asked with a chuckle, starting to pull her underwear down slowly.

“Yes,” she replied with a grin, helping him pull the lace past her black thigh-high boots. He even got down on his knees and let her support herself on his shoulders so she wouldn’t trip. As soon as he got them off, she pulled both his boxers and slacks down, letting them pool around the shiny black shoes he wore. “Wow, you are…” she trailed off, taking his cock gingerly in her hand.

He grabbed her wrist and she looked up at him in question. He didn’t say anything, he just guided her soft hand up and down his throbbing, heavy shaft, while staring into her eyes. She bit her lip coyly and tightened her grip. It drew a rumbling moan from deep within his chest.

“I’m what?” He asked, his voice husky and raspy. He licked his pink, swollen lips, stepping closer to her.

“Big, thick,” she listed, tugging faster at his cock, “pretty. I wouldn’t mind having you in my mouth… it’s a shame you’re going inside me.” His eyes darkened at her lascivious expression. He pulled her hand away and manhandled her small frame into position. Her Stetson fell to the floor but they didn’t care.

“It’ll be worth it, babe,” he murmured against her neck, while his fingers pinched her nipple and he roughly kneaded her breast. She leaned back into his chest, squirming, panting, and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Is that an empty promise?” She teased softly, feeling him gently pull her cloak out of the way. He cut off the laugh before it even escaped her lips by lifting her leg up by the bend of her knee. She yelped and reached out to stabilise herself with her palm flat on the wall.

“Guess that’s up to you,” he told her, finding her sweet spot to mark it up as she had done to him. From behind, he rolled his hips forward and rubbed his cock through her soaked folds. They moaned together and he almost came when he felt her reach down to press his cock closer to her clit. With a breathless, “fuck, you’re driving crazy,” he reached down and replaced her hand with his, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance.

“Please, fuck me,” she begged, reaching back with her freehand to bury her fingers in his gelled hair.

He smirked and slowly pushed his cock inside her. He groaned instantly as her walls fluttered around him, her warmth made him breathless, and he squeezed the thigh he was holding up. When she gasped, he slowly pulled out and then thrusted back inside her roughly, going deeper and deeper.

From this angle, his cock brushed repeatedly over her g-spot. Either she was sleeping with the wrong guys or she was so horny anything felt good. She had a feeling it the former thing, he knew what he was doing, just how to fuck her, where to put his hands, and knew just what to say to make her open her legs to him. He got into a mind-numbing rhythm and sucked another red mark on her shoulder.

He breathed heavily into her ear and found her breast with his other hand rather than gripping her hip. Dean noticed that as he fucked her harder, her moans started to sound slightly different than before, softer and less pornographic. It was hotter somehow, more intimate. Her gasps and the occasional moans, and thrown in between curses were short praises that made him slam into her harder.

“You feel amazing,” he rasped, twisting her nipple one last time before bringing his hand down to massage her swollen clit. She gasped sharply and clamped down on his cock. “Good girl, so wet for me…” he trailed off, rubbing circles on her clit faster.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna-” a strangled moan cut off her sentence when he pinched her clit.

“Shit, me too,” he chuckled deeply. “Where do you want me?” He heaved, hips stuttering as she squeezed him tighter. She turned her face slightly and pulled his lips down to hers.

“Inside me,” she murmured, kissing him roughly. With a few more thrusts, she orgasmed and her velvety walls pulsed around his throbbing cock. Her curses and moans filled the small closet and he groaned loudly against her mouth.

He let go of her leg, thrusted into her harder, faster, and wrapped his large hand around her neck. Her legs were pressed together tightly, keeping him inside her as she came and cried out her pleasure. With a loud moan, he came, his hot cum spurting deep inside her.

His thrusts slowly came to a stop and he panted against her neck, exhausted and satisfied. He stayed inside her and pressed soft kisses over her neck and shoulder.

“Been wanting to fill you up with my cum,” he admitted softly, sliding his hands soothingly up and down her sides. “Didn’t think you’d be into it.” He planted a kiss on top of her head and pulled his soft cock out of her.

“Guess Ken was right about being a ten,” she murmured, turning around on shaky legs to lean against the wall. He snorted and grinned down at her. He reached down and pulled his slacks and underwear back up, shoving his cum covered cock carelessly into his briefs.

He got down on his knees, snatched her underwear from the floor, but instead of putting them on her, he pulled her hips away from the wall and buried his face into cunt.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, her legs falling open again as he lapped at her entrance, licking away her cum and his own.

“Still, Dean, darlin’,” he mumbled against her pussy with a laugh.

“Dean,” she murmured thoughtfully. His nose rubbed gently against her sensitive clit and she whined, letting herself relax as his tongue prodded at her entrance.

“Come for me again, yeah?” He looked up at her and pushed two fingers into her wet hole. He thumbed at her clit, flicking teasingly side to side, and waited for her to say ‘okay’ before replacing his thumb with his mouth.

When she orgasmed for the second time, he licked his lips gladly, and stood back up, bringing her in for a kiss. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. She slid her hands up his bare best, gently scraping his nipples with her nails.

He pulled away and inhaled sharply, then finally said what he’d been wanting to ask since he saw her pick this costume out. “Some time in the future… what would you say to helping me fulfil an old fantasy of mine?” He rubbed his thumb gently over her hipbone and kissed her forehead.

“You wanna do this again?” She laughed breathlessly, when he lowered his head to bite and tug at her nipples playfully. She pulled his hair so he’d look her in the eyes again. She wasn’t used to being doted on after sex, but it was a nice change.

“Uh, what do you mean?” He stared down at her with confusion, lips wet, red, and in a pout.

“What do you mean?” She asked, just as confused. The song being blasted turned from a loud one to a soft Christmas one, and he realised she sounded way off. He searched blindly for the light switch in the closet by sliding his hands across the wall. “Here.” She switched the light on and he swallowed when he stared down at the girl who was definitely not Jeralynne.

“Fuck,” he groaned, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Oh, fuck… no… I’m so… sorry,” he apologised, getting down quickly to help her put her underwear on. “Kind of sorry, the sex was great,” he corrected himself, refusing to look up at her. Even when he got her underwear up all the way and helped her adjust, he looked to the side.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” She searched for his face and then cupped his jaw so he’d look at her. His eyes fluttered, closing to avoid her, but then he opened them, and steeled himself for the truth he was about to tell.

“I have a girlfriend and you’re both wearing the same costume… and I… I’m sorry for putting you in this position,” he sighed. He took her hand, moving it away from his face, and watched her eyes widen.

“Uh, easy mistake?” She shrugged, her cheeks turned pink as she pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I don’t know what to say…” she trailed off, quickly tightening the lace of her dress to cover her breasts.

“They should lower this damn music,” he muttered, reaching down for her Stetson. She laughed softly at that and took it from him, putting it neatly atop her head again.

“We can forget about this,” she told him, lowering and adjusting the hem of her leather dress. Meanwhile, he started to button his shirt up again. “See ya ‘round, Dean,” she smiled awkwardly and cracked the door open.

“Wait!” He shouted after her. When she jumped, he cleared his throat and brought his hand awkwardly to the back of his neck. She raised a brow at him and waited for him to speak. “I’m gonna be straight with you right now.. I can’t click with my girlfriend…” He trailed off, watching her shut the door and cross her arms over her chest while chewing her lip.

“Want some advice or something?” She laughed softly, then reached out with a grimace to touch the red mark on his neck. “I guess I’m a pretty good coach, even if I haven’t dated in a while. You know what they say: All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players… actually, I don’t think that goes well with this situation,” she added distractedly, brows furrowed and a pout on her pretty lips.

He laughed softly and smiled down at her. He groaned, hating the fact that he was dating someone when he felt something so special right now with someone else. He shook his head and sighed heavily. “No… this is all fucked up, but… when I break up with my girlfriend, wanna… try this out?”

She tilted her head and bit her lip hesitantly. “How about we just stick together as friends… for the meantime,” she offered. He frowned, felt his stomach sink at the rejection, but she seemed conflicted about everything which soothed his ego.

“Yeah.. I get it, can’t just jump into one relationship and then another without giving myself time…” he nodded, trying not to appear too dejected. He smiled at her kindly and she smiled shyly in return.

“Sure,” she said nervously. “Uh, good luck,” she whispered, turning around once again to get out. She got out of the room this time, but he grabbed her elbow to stop her once again.

“Can I get your number?” He asked quietly, hope turned his eyes bright. “It’s cool, if you don’t want to.” She turned around and he let her slide her arm out of his grip, but she only kept her small palm against his calloused one. It felt so right.

She reached up for his unmade tie and pulled him in for a kiss. It was rough and needy, breathtaking and made his heart nearly burst. He didn’t realise how different it felt to kiss Jeralynne and this cute stranger. She pulled away breathlessly, but he chased her lips and gave her a final peck, wishing it could last forever.

“Fuck, you taste good,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. “Anyway, yeah…” she conceded, pulling away from him to hold her hand out.

“Awesome,” he whispered, unsure as he put his mobile in her hand. She added herself to his contacts and he smiled softly at her name. Now, he knew.

“We need to figure this out first. Until then, let’s… not have contact,” she added, staring up at him under the white glow of the light. He did the same, trying to memorise the hidden features of the woman who made him feel things he’d never felt before, and was now leaving—possibly forever.

Talk about wrong place, wrong time, right person.

➥ my love will never die

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean x female!reader #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

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thewulf · 3 months

Text

Let Me Help You || Legolas

Summary: Request - hiyaa, i dont really have a specific request but could you do something along the lines of reader hiding an injury from legolas and ofc he notices and takes care of her!❤️‍🩹

A/N: As always, thank you so much for the requests. You keep me inspired and wanting to write more and more and more! Hope you enjoy my favorite price!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: Insecurity, angsty, fluffy

You had killed thousands of spiders in the years of them slowly encroaching on Mirkwood. It was no longer a task but an annoyance to go out and take care of a nest. The only problem was the annoyance made you careless. You’d gotten a bit overconfident in it all. In the years you had been fighting them back not one had even come close to hurting you. Until today.

You were focused on a larger spider playing with it instead of just killing it, your first mistake. The second was ignoring the creeping spider on your right thinking you had more time than you really did. When you felt the stinging sensation of the spider jabbing its poison into you, you spun around and killed it instantly. Hissing in more pain than you could have imagined you ignored it and continued to eliminate as many spiders as you could. You would be fine. You would just have to head straight to a healer once you make it back to the city. Spiders poison did not work fast enough to kill you, only make you delirious.

Tauriel gave you a quick look when she saw you walking weirdly, favoring the side that had not been stung, “Is something the matter Y/N?” She pulled you back and asked once she ordered all the guard back to the castle.

Shaking your head as nonchalantly as possible you straightened up. You had thousands of years of practice to keep your face stoic even in pain, “I pulled a muscle in training yesterday. The healer told me to keep it easy, but I fear I did not listen to her words.” You smiled to her hoping she bought your lie.

She shook her head, “Why did you not tell me? You could have sat today out.”

“And miss out killing spiders? Who do you take me for Tauriel?” You laughed ignoring the growing pain on your side. Taking a quick peak down you wanted to curse seeing the green garment slightly stained with your crimson blood. It was dry by now, surely the wound was actually healed. You just needed help removing the poison.

The remaining walk back was spent in comfortable silence. You had known Tauriel for longer than you even remember. She had always been a constant in your long life. She was a few hundred years older than you and took you under her guidance early on as your parents were close friends. Poor families with strong daughters that wanted more than the living on the outskirts of the big city. Tauriel was the one with the plan, you were the one that followed always wondering what you would’ve been had Tauriel not been there?

Nevertheless, she decided she was going to be a part of the Silvan Guard and that was that. She trained hard, day in and day out. She brought you along once you were old enough to decide if that’s what you wanted. It didn’t come as a second thought as you accepted her offer to begin training. You’d worked your ways up through the different guards behind Tauriel. Finally, a few hundred years prior you had been selected by the king to join the guard. Tauriel was promoted to Captain of the Guard, and you had never been prouder. She was everything and more. A sister you never really had but always wanted.

You’d met Legolas properly the night of the celebration and even chatted for a while. It was not lost on you how his eyes occasionally glanced around the room and landed on Tauriel. She was truly a stunning elf maiden. It surprised you she had not been courted yet, that you knew of. Why wouldn’t Legolas be interested in her? She was stunning beyond measure, kind as could be, a true proven warrior in the field and the Captain of King Thranduil’s guard. What more could you actually ask for?

What you didn’t know was that he kept his eyes on her for security to the king. If he needed to react he was the castles first line of defense when he was home. For he liked Tauriel but only as a dear friend he had grown close to over the years. Ever since your arrival to the guard he had only seemed to have eyes for you. He was just simply good at hiding it from you. Only watching you when you were preoccupied in the ring training or on guard. He couldn’t help himself from just admiring you from afar sometimes. He found you to be the most exquisite elf he’d ever laid his eyes upon. The only problem he had was trying to get you alone. You always disappeared when Tauriel was around and Tauriel was always around, being your best friend and his close friend. It had frustrated him for centuries.

Even his father, King Thranduil, found amusement out of Legolas’s inability to string together a coherent conversation together. For as amusing as he did find it he was growing worried Legolas would never actually be able to figure out how to reach you. Thranduil was hesitant over his sons pining over the elf, but he had found in the limited time he had truly known you, not just heard of your talents, that you were a great match for his son. It had been almost a hundred years since you had joined his guard, and Legolas had grown closer to you but there was just something that was stopping you from indulging him. He had no clue you acted so distant was to protect yourself. It would be hard to pretend you didn’t have a crush on the elf.

You had nearly gotten to the castle before the familiar golden blonde elf appeared in front of the both of you. The poison was really starting to hurt now. You needed to get away from the both of them and down to the healers. You’d just have to think of a good excuse after a moment of listening into their conversation.

“Tauriel, Y/N.” He gave the both of you a quick bow which you only returned with a head nod for you were not so sure you wouldn’t be able to wince from the pain, “How did the day go?” He asked as he looked over both of you. Your heart rate picked up when he spotted the dried blood on the side of your dress. Legolas was observant and even as Tauriel answered him his eyes stayed laser focused in on your form.

“Successful day. I am positive we have not reached the nest yet though. We will be back out tomorrow if you care to join us, my prince.” She answered giving you a curious look as his eyes were still looking right at you.

He gave her a quick nod as if to almost dismiss her before turning back to you. Tauriel stood there stunned at his curious behavior before she walked away slowly hoping to hear the conversation between her two obvious friends. No matter how many times she had told you the two of them were just friends you would never seem to believe her. It was slowly driving her mad as the both of you seemed be so clueless over the others fascination with the other.

“Are you all right?” He asked after a moment of the both of you looking at the other, “You look pale and there is blood on your side.” His head tilted in concern as he stepped closer.

A quick nod, “I am just fine. A small nick on this side is all. I must get going to bathe now if we are to be back out there tomorrow.” Giving him a nervous laugh, you attempted to walk away but he was having none of it. He had let you walk away far too many times, and he wasn’t letting you do it anymore. He wanted to know you. He wanted to understand you. He wanted to spend a lifetime and more with you as he was utterly fascinated with everything he had learned and is learning about you.

You looked down at you wrist being held by his much larger hand then back up to those blue eyes you found so mesmerizing. When he saw you weren’t prepared to speak he did to fill the silence, “You are not fine. You are favoring your left side. You will not look me in the eye and that blood is not even dried! What is wrong Y/N?” He nearly begged while giving your wrist a squeeze hoping to coax an answer out of your stubborn mouth. A trait he both loved and hated when it came to him being on the receiving end.

You looked down, “It is embarrassing. Promise you will not laugh?” You asked him knowing there was no way out of this. When he was focused on something he would not let it go. You were his focus right now and you had a feeling you would pass out before he would just let you wander off now.

His eyes scrunched in concern at your request. What had happened in those woods and why were you hiding it from him? “I would never laugh at you mellon nin.” He grinned right to you.

Rolling your eyes you answered him, “That is a lie for you laughed at me just yesterday!”

He had yet to drop your hand and had no plans to as he waited for your confession, “I was merely laughing with you. Not at you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him you responded, “I was not laughing though.”

“That is beside the point.” He grinned knowing you had bested him, “Can you please tell me what is wrong then?”

“I need to go to a healer. I got stung by a spider. I was careless out there and got bested.” You spoke quietly hoping no others had heard. Your reputation would likely suffer. How could a Kings Guardself get stung so easily?

He frowned taking your words into consideration before deciding what to do, “Follow me. I will heal you. Up to my chambers.” Your feet started following him as he led you to his room. You had been there a few times, but this was beginning to feel different. He was casting gazes at you that you had never seen from the elf you’d grown to love.

“Sit there.” He pointed to his bed like it meant nothing. You hesitated as you looked over the pristinely made bed you’re sure a helper had done up for him.

“Are you sure…”

“None of that. Sit.” He waved you off not letting your brain give it a second thought. You watched as he gathered a few supplies from his bathroom before kneeling at your side.

After a few moments he spoke, “I will have to cut into your dress further.”

“You are lucky I am handy with a needle.” You nodded letting him know it was fine. You would have to show a little skin if he was to actually heal you.

“I will have a seamstress repair it. Do not bother with it.” He smiled right back at you before he began to delicately cut the fabric away. He knew he should not be enjoying this as much as he was, but he was finally getting some time alone with you. It felt like a miracle even if it was at your sake.

“That’d hardly be necessary.”

He hummed before cleaning off the wound, “It’s all right to let people take care of you, you do know that right?”

It was your turn to frown as you took in his words, “I must rely on myself. My parents live far away. My brother was killed in the war. It is just Tauriel and I now. And even then she is busy being the captain most days.”

Legolas looked up to you with a sadness you had hardly ever seen, “This may sting.” He spoke quickly in a much older version of Sindarin. You could hardly make out what he was saying. Instead, you closed your eyes fighting the growing stinging sensation in your side. It would burn until it was all out and unfortunately for you it had been spreading for some time. You clenched your teeth together as the spell worked to pull all the spiders poison from your system. When it was all clear you felt that signature wave of exhaustion come over you after all the adrenaline had finally started wearing away.

“Thank you.” Blinking your eyes rapidly you were trying your hardest to stay awake. At this rate it would be a miracle if you could make it back to your quarters without passing out due to the exhausting beating you.

He gave you a quick nod as he studied you. His concern only grew as he spotted your weary eyes giving way to your overtiredness, “Lay down. Rest your eyes.”

“Oh, Legolas I cannot.” You stood with a wobble for which he quickly grabbed at your waist steadying

“I insist. You will not make it back in your state. My bed is comfortable. Rest, mellon nin. I will be here in the morning.” He pulled the covers back guiding your over. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep at all. He was going to watch and listen to make sure your heart was steady. Your breathing was regular. He knew that you would be just fine, of course. That did not stop the twinge of worry as he saw you in a far more fragile state than he was used to. And you were trusting him instead of running away

“Thank you.” You whispered after he had pulled the covers up over you. Thankful for the night cover because you were sure your cheeks were blazing red. It felt oddly intimate to be cared for so casually. Nobody had really ever done that for you before.

“Quite literally, anytime. Now rest, I will see you in the morning.” He pushed you to close your eyes. And he was right. It did not take you more than a few moments to fall into a deep sleep helping your body recover.

When your eyes opened sunlight was hitting them. You had slept through the night for the first time in a long time. You peaked your eyes over seeing Legolas standing close but far enough to give you your distance with a brilliant smile on his face. You admired his beautiful blue eyes that reflected even brighter than usual. It simply was not fair that an elf could be as handsome as he was.

He took a step closer when your eyes locked with his, “How do you feel?”

“Much better. I slept very well.” You gave him a lazy smile as you sat up in his bed. It hit you that you spent the night in his chambers let alone his bed. Your mother would be horrified to learn you had done such a thing. But you had the suspicion he would never let such a thing get out to anyone. He would find a way to get you out of the royal tower without a second thought. This was Legolas. He would never let your reputation suffer on his behalf.

He nodded taking another step closer, “I told you my bed was comfortable.” His smile only grew into a smirk as he witnessed your cheeks flame up with color. How easy it was to get a reaction from you now that he could properly talk to you, “You look much better this morning. Much more color in your cheeks.” He teased you only worsening your reaction.

You looked down feeling his gaze too much, “You tease me so Legolas.”

He laughed softly, “Indeed. Is it so hard to believe I enjoy seeing you blush?”

You felt you heart pick up speed, “You do?”

“Aye, I enjoy everything about you actually.” He smiled feeling like he was finally letting it all out, “You’re the most interesting elf I have ever got to meet.” He only smiled seeing your shocked expression grow.

“What are you saying Legolas?” It came out as a whisper as if you were afraid of his answer. And you were truthfully.

“I love you. I have loved you for a long time. You have just never given me the chance to show you.” He grinned once more as he kneeled next to the bed, so he was eye level with you. He grabbed at your hand holding it in his.

Your eyes snapped up to his at that admission, “I thought… I thought you liked Tauriel?” You blinked at him more confused than ever. Had you truly been that oblivious to his feelings? You felt your hand growing warm in his.

“Tauriel?” he let out a low laugh, “No, never. She is more of a sister to me than anything.” He had confirmed what she had been telling you for years.

Licking your lips, you were sure he had heard your heart rate speed up at a rapid pace, “Oh, this is news to me.”

He smiled at your sudden bashfulness, “Is that all then?”

You felt the heat creeping up your cheeks, “You like me?” You asked him in response to his question.

“I love you.” He corrected you, “Meleth nin.” He brushed messy stray hairs away from your face. He was thrilled when he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you didn’t recoil or run away. You seemed more at a loss for words than he had expected. You always had a quick comeback to his words, but these had you stumped.

You whispered the words, “Meleth nin.” With the widest eyes right back at him.

His grin only widened seeing your expression shift from confusion to shock right back to bashfulness. He found you adorable in every sense of the word, “I’ve been trying to tell you for yours. But you always…”

“Run away.” You laughed bringing him to laugh right alongside you. The tension in the air evaporated in an instant as the two of you enjoyed a round of laughs shared early in the morning as the sun rose for the day.

“Exactly that.” He’d confirmed bringing you back down to reality.

After your fit of giggles had ended you looked down and away from his intense gaze, “Please forgive me for I thought you loved Tauriel. I did not want to intrude.”

Feeling his warm fingers beneath your chin he brough your eyes up to look right into his blue ones, “You must here me when I say that I forgive you. I forgive you a thousand times. Although we could have started this years ago it is all right. Please, will you let me take you out tomorrow? I’ll show you my favorite path behind the castle with the most beautiful flowers.” He paused trying to read your ever so stoic expression. When you broke into another grin he breathed out that sigh of relief he so desperately needed. He never imagined it to be so nerve wracking admitting such feelings to a friend like you.

“I would love to Legolas.”

He grabbed at your hands giving the back of one of them a slow kiss, “You do me a great honor, Y/N. “He let your hands go as he stood and moved towards the door.

Your face broke into a frown, “Where are you going?” It sounded whiny as it left your mouth. How had this elf made such a mess out of you so quickly?

He smiled not minding it a bit. He found he quite liked the departure of your usual self for one that’s much more needy, “You need to eat, meleth nin. I am grabbing you a plate of food. I will be but twenty minutes.”

You shook your head, “I can go, no need for you to make a trip out of it.” But before you could swing your legs over the bed he was stopping you.

He walked back over pushing you back down in bed for the second time in as many days, “No need to. Rest, please?”

You huffed, “I feel fine Legolas.”

“Meleth nin, let me help you.” He brushed his thumb along your cheek, “Please?” He asked once more now that you had calmed down a bit.

“Fine.” You crossed your hands over your chest trying not to argue with him. He was just being sweet. Let him do this.

He leaned down placing the softest, gentlest kisses to your temple, “Thank you.” He whispered before placing another kiss on your cheek. Pulled away he knew he would leave your mind reeling for at least the next twenty or so minutes.

“I will be back. Rest please.” He insisted once more as he walked to his bedroom door. Turning back to you he only grinned seeing you tucked so cozily in his bed. A sight he had wished to see for so long.

“As you insist, my prince.” You winked. Closing your eyes, you only heard his laugh before the door clicked shut. You decided fairly quickly that you could get used to this. Somebody to help. Somebody to care. Somebody to be there for you.

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lifeandlies-of-regulusblack · 9 days

Note

Please….Please save me from the regulus discourse I keep seeing…i saw 7 posts about it in succession…he doesn’t deserve this…I need…regulus headcanons…

JUICY HEADCANONS HERE WE GO.

tagging @rizzulusarcturizz @villain-crown @ilovefanfics @arcturusblackregulus and @queerregulusablack because i love them.

regulus smokes his first cigarette in his brother's room, taken from a pack sirius left behind. he keeps the pack even after he's smoked all of what's inside, because that's where he puts all his little notes for sirius.

—

sirius likes to tell regulus that he loved regulus before he was ever born, and little regulus would always laugh at that. he tells his big brother to stop being silly, and sirius plays at being offended. "i'm not being silly! it's true! i was waiting for you all along!"

—

pre-hogwarts regulus and sirius once fought over regulus fussing over kreacher. sirius was looking for regulus only to find him trying to convince kreacher to let him wrap his injured finger with his handkerchief.

Sirius calls regulus out in annoyance because he didn't want his brother touching the elf, he was uneasy around them and he didn't think it was regulus' role to care for beings meant to serve them (as they've heard their entire lives). but regulus wouldn't budge. he grips on to Kreacher's hand tighter while glaring at sirius. the shock at regulus' ire turns into petty rage and jealousy, as the poor elf keeps telling regulus that it was okay, mumbling out a dozen other protests about how master regulus didn't need to lower himself and— and— this makes sirius angrier. so much so that he ends up yelling at kreacher to shut up. which in turn makes regulus scream at sirius to go away.

and so sirius does, angrily, hurt, and feeling slightly betrayed. so unused to regulus... fighting him. "Stupid little brothers," he says to himself. "See if I ever play with him again!"

Sirius was still by himself, thinking of turning regulus away when his brother inevitably came to his room later at night, to sleep in his bed, when he hears his brother's wailing cries. this puts a primal fear into his being that far overshadows whatever childish anger he was clinging to. he runs down the stairs to see what's happened. and there, he sees his brother, clutching at his cheek and cowering from the tall figure of his mother looming over him, wand drawn.

regulus was caught with kreacher.

for once in his (relatively young) life, sirius is frozen. he doesn't know what to do. this isn't a broken vase he can say he broke. this wasn't something he could say regulus did for him. the act of nursing an injured elf was so clearly an action belonging to regulus. only regulus would do this.

he looks at their mother and sees the disgust and disappointment lining her features. regulus was her perfect boy.

and her perfect boy had wrapped his handkerchief, with the black family coat of arms embroidered right at the center, and used it to bandage an elf's bleeding finger. his mother is incandescent.

sirius is too slow, too short, to reach his brother as walburga reaches to shake his brother with a frightening vigor that has regulus crying out in alarm.

"Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" his mother shouts over regulus' panicked cries. At sirius' shout of alarm, she lets regulus go with a harsh shove and makes her way to him.

"You should've taught him better! What use are you to the family if you can't look after your brother?" she yells at him. she prods at his chest, making sure her nails dig in painfully, "This is your fault, you foolish child." Sirius can't even muster the rage he so usually feels at his mother, yet again, finding ways to blame him. At least she's let regulus go.

When, after their mother has left, sirius gathers his little brother into his arms and shushes him, rubbing his back best as he can. they're both reeling. regulus at being punished for what he thought was right, unused to being the recipient of their mother's anger. and sirius for not being able to do anything, to help him — replaying the way his limbs froze, his mind unable to think of something quick to say or do.

he wants to punish kreacher for his brother's tears.

—

regulus is top of his class in potions. really, it's him and severus that become the talk of the school. prodigies. Slughorn's two favorite students and the topic of most his open bragging. a lot of students remark on them being fortunately in separate years, avoiding the cutthroat competition that would've been for the top spot. they don't necessarily like each other, but the respect is there.

regulus expected to receive the brunt of severus' anger regarding his brother. he tells him this as they end up in the same library aisle, discussing which potions book had better methodology. and the older scoffs.

"It's sad how you keep wanting to be like your brother."

and the statement stings. he idolizes his brother.

"Get over yourself, Black. It's a compliment. You're not your brother and you've already made a name for yourself."

oh...

"Never talk to me about this again. I don't hate you but we're not friends."

After finishing 6th year, Severus gives him his potions book.

"Here, see if you can do better than me. Use it and let me know how it turns out." he stops before he walks away, "Or not. I'll probably hear about it from the professors."

—

something something regulus asking to apprentice under madame pomfrey. regulus slowly gains her trust and respect. eventually, she lets him help with remus, after he comes to her telling her how he knows, and how remus knows that he knows.

"I mean... Moony? Really?" he asks incredulously. He shoves his wand harshly under Remus' throat, "Do you think I'm stupid?"

—

Regulus tells Sirius to leave. He'll follow but not in the near future.

"Come on, Sirius. I'll survive without you. But you won't with me." "That's not true! Together or not at all, remember? We promised. I promised." "What, you think I'm not brave enough? Too soft to ever completely leave the family behind? That I'll lose myself to them?" "No, I think you've always been brave. Too brave. You don't have to be brave for them and not this way. Can't you see Reggie? This way's fucked up. We can just leave!" "It's... It's not that bad Sirius. Or at least it never was for me. I can be strong for the both of us and I want to — just promise you won't go where I can't follow." "As if. What do you want me to tell moony, you little shit?" "That I love him." "This hurts you know? This entire conversation has been one big pain in the ass, and it's going to be for a long while. Man, fuck you. Honestly. I can't blame you, but this hurts, just so you know." "I know. I love you." "...I know."

#asks #regulus black #the black brothers #sirius black #marauders era #regulus headcanon #hp marauders #sirius and regulus #severus snape #remus lupin #moonwater #the marauders #marauders fandom #dead gay wizards #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #my writing

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shepherds-of-haven · 6 months

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How would each RO's fan base react if MC dates their idols? And what would MC's fan base think if they date some RO? 😅

Blade's fanbase: I think reactions from his fanbase are mixed, ranging from either envious and salty (like "nooo I was supposed to be the special one who unlocked his ice-cold heart, this isn't fair!!") to resigned acceptance because the special treatment was obvious to anyone watching closely enough, so it's not exactly a surprise

Trouble: completely non-surprise, it was sooo obvious for so long, they'd most likely "adopt" MC as part of their fandom and ship/worship them from afar as a couple... except for Rovyn, if you've read Trouble's latest day off 😭

Tallys: I think it would mostly be mystification, like "HUHHHH since when were they interested in each other?? what made Tallys break down her walls and go after MC, who's not even another Elf??" I think they'd be more rabid for details and consumed with curiosity than anything!

Shery: there would be much wailing and gnashing of teeth, it'd be like watching a much-beloved daughter go off on her own and marry into a different household, the mourning and loss would be intense 😭

Riel: honestly I feel like 90% of his fanbase would be very happy that Riel can actually find romantic happiness with somebody, I think his fans worry about him and his health and want him to find someone because they mostly entertain no fantasies that that person would ever be them, lol, if they're fans of his then they're already well aware of his impossible standards 😂 So they would be very pleased for him and likely approving of the relationship!

Chase: there would be much salt from his fanbase and many mutual reassurances along the lines of "don't worry, we know his pattern, it's just a hookup, this won't last, no one panic!!" and the longer it went on and the more committed and in-love Chase acted, the more the confidence would die down to a sour 'we all agreed not to talk about it' lol

Red: I think there would be much salt and bitterness, I'm guessing that in the case of fuckboys and players that the fans accept/love/embrace that aspect of them (believing that they'll never settle down and will be perpetual bachelors), and then when that changes, there's probably a sense of betrayed outrage, like they're not the same person or something anymore, lol. I imagine that the salt would be increased even more if Red and MC are exes!

Ayla: I think there would be a sense of noble acceptance and acknowledgement about it, like, "ah.... my fair Ayla... if that is your path to happiness, I can only step aside and wish you well from afar......" So generally they would just be happy that she'd found someone and could only wistfully observe her changes in demeanor as a result of finding love with MC from a distance, and with a faint sense of pride and approval, like

Briony: gnashing and writhing, tearing out of the hair and sobbing into pillows and etc. There are probably angry muttered discussions of challenging MC to a group (?) duel that never actually come to fruition

Lavinet: melodramatic theatrics and public declarations and fervent letters sent to Lavinet along the lines of "My dearest Lavinet, I thought what we had was special! How could you betray me thus? 🥺 What have I done to deserve such scorn from thee???" It's not personal to MC, it's just that Lavinet had a LOT of admirers sending her love letters and they all thought they were the only one lol

MC: I think this would depend on who MC was dating! If it was someone higher up in the ranks, like Blade or Riel (aka a co-Commander) or someone like Lavinet, Trouble, or Tallys (old guard, noble, etc.), it would be like "yeah I guess that makes sense... :/" but if it was someone less obviously "deserving" or "equal" to MC, there would be some "make it make sense!!!" feelings of shock. After all, MC is the Hero of Haven, they deserve someone who can equal their greatness!!

#Shepherds of Haven #hypothetical scenario #fanbase #popularity #admirer #admirers #romance options #MC

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theology101 · 16 days

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Galicaea murdered Cassandra and Sol murdered Ankarna - which is why Kipperlilly Did That

We learned in Revelations and Revivifications (Episode 11 of Season 2) that it was her Clerics from Fallinel who murdered Cassandra. That's just straight up a fact. Now, we don't know exactly what her role in this is but, "As Above, So Below." If Galicaea's top priests are making this move, then Galicaea was down with it.

I've heard a lot of people refer to the wolf aspect as if it was some 'real' version of the faith that's been corrupted. It isn't, it's an Older aspect and its one that Tracker and Co. love a lot more but both of them are a result of worship.

We learned about this 'Last Great Sylvan War' around 900 years ago about the proper way to worship Cassandra. While the High Elves who settled it went with "Erase the goddess - to understand mystery is a heresy," I'm guessing they also heavily influenced the Wood Elf/Non-High Elf variant of Galicaea into being more in line with their version. Obviously a remnant survived in folk religion like with Tracker and other Werewolf communities, her revival reveals that prior to her, there hasn't been any serious challange to Falinel statement.

I think that then Sol started marching North. Gallicaea had claimed Night as hers and hers alone, by deceiving their shy and naive sister and then went to finish the job with Ankarna. But her? No way they could convince Ankarna to kill herself, especially now that her sister was 'dead' (Cassandra technically managed to live via the Quasi-Reality inside of Sylvaire, Kristen more redefined her and allowed her to be alive outside of the Nightmare Forest).

So I think that the Human Priests of Highcourt and the Elves of Fallinel agreed to wipe them out. Sol's paladins burnt their way up the coast and conquered it - we know that the land of Elmville is native Halfling territory, but right next to it is the Mountains of Chaos which was, in my opinion, their true target. Sol wanted the aspects like Conviction, Fire, Rage, Etc. while he gave Helio Summer.

Meanwhile, Ankarna? Her turning Infernal wasn't something done to her, it was something she/her priests did. Why would they do that? Because they're being invaded. The Giants probably took on a more leadership based roll compared to the far less capable to defend themselves Halflings, Goblins, Aaracockra, arguably even Orcs. Turning more and more evil, brutal, and extreme is a result of her being back further and further into a corner. It was a defense of the other races and for her own life.

I think that, while adventuring in the Mountains of Chaos for Spring Break, the Rat Grinders found out about Ankarna's priests and believers being wiped out, maybe one of her ancinet and long forgotten temples. That was it and it would have been it, if Kipperlilly didn't learn about Cassandra. I think her sheer, burning jealousy made her want, above anything else, to bring back a Goddess herself.

And her solution was going to be Lucy Frostblade. And for about two weeks, Ankarna was brought back with Lucy being her sole worshipper. And this is what I think happened next: sweet, kind, Lucy Frostblade's Ankarna wouldn't be the warlike aspect. She'd be like how she was before the Humans and Elves attacked, a kind and loving goddess.

Except there's a problem. There's another worshipper - just one.

Jace Stardiamond, draining power from the corpse of the long dead war goddess.

So, he and Kipperlilly somehow get in contact (my money is through Oisin secretly being a sorceror the whole time and just Acing wizard classes with 0 effort) and together they agree there's only one solution - kill Lucy Frostblade so their version of Ankarna can remain. The High Five Heroes kill Lucy and all begin worhsipping Ankarna (all under the influence of Devil's Honey.) Kipperlilly, Oisin and Mary Anne are all in on it (symbolized by their Blue backgrounds) but Ivy and Rueben refuse to go along with the murder but, since they're not in the way, they're able to be devil's honeyed into not knowing (Symbolized by their red background).

Ivy's weird reaction to Fig? She always 'knew' that Lucy was alive - she's not important to the plan anyways, so she doesn't need to be included. Some random lie is fed to Ivy to explain why Lucy isn't recognized as 'dead.' Reuben though? Kipperlilly can still use Reuben - use him to proselytize and spread the word of Ankarna - so not only does he need to be aware of the details around Lucy's death and all the Ankarna stuff, he also can't know the Ratgrinders killed her. He clearly still thinks highly of her - I think that vomitting the 'blood' in his dream was Fig breaking the Devil's Honey barrier in his mind.

Which is why, as Gertie told us, Kipperlilly ordered two bottles RIGHT after break. They need to keep him in line with the plan.

Jace changed the records in the school so that Yolanda never realized that she switched gods from Ruvina, and used his own spells to fuck with the name and hidden it (clearly there's a difference between the rune on the paper, which no one could read, and the translated version in Fallinel which has been sat for a thousand plus years), and did the same to the body. Yolanda, trusting him as Vice Principal, tells him about her fears, he goes with her into the woods and then instantly kills her in the clearing.

The plan is to take Ankarna from the Dead/Undead form (but now conscious thanks to their efforts) back to being actually alive via a Cleric believing in her.

Of course, in the mean time they need a Cleric. Make him expendable, but still useful. Make the cleric be a Priest of Helio or Sol so that they can kill him, immediately planeshift into Heaven behind him, eliminate his soul and then Oisin and Kipperlilly sneak into the office and bring back the Goddess. In fact, I bet they're gonna fling Buddy Dawn's soul into the void and using the death of a cleric of Helio, Ankarna will return. Killing Buddy was the act of Conquest they needed.

Rueben is obviously in doubt, trying to get help from his Uncle (skipping Forest Animal Murdering and asking for a ride home?), but I think Oisin is in it for the power. Mary Anne is a Kobold, and I think Oisin's Grandma is the dragon her tribe is sworn to so she just follows him around.

I don't think any part of Jace Stardiamond's section of the plan, the bit about the return of Ankarna, has anything to do with Kipperlilly running for preisdent or their quest against the bad kids. Killing Buddy in the Last Stand was just a conveint series of events but as Brennan said in the adventuring party - it looked like killing Buddy was already on the table. That wasn't a freak out move, it was on the agenda, she just wasn't there yet.

For the Presidency, unlike the Ankarna plot where only Oisin and Stardiamond are conspirators, all the Rat Grinders are in on it because they all seem to have personal beef. Except for Oisin and Mary Anne, who seem to be fine with the Bad Kids as a whole, just still on Kipperlilly's team for the race.

For that, Kipperlilly frames the Loams for embezzling, pocketing the money, and then using Ankarna's nightmare king form to kill the Loams when it looked like she was being to thoroughly looked at. Now she has money for both Schemes and the Campaign. Stardiamond tells Reuben to move Frostfaire to the Thistlepsing Tree (just to fuck with the ground and, if I had to guess, be the reason why Gorgug has been getting angrier and angrier as the season's gone on. Specifically, he seemed to really 'Get Mad!' when fighting Grix).

Kipperlilly knows about Buddy's grandpa so after Yolanda gets killed by Jace, Kipperlilly tells Buddy to ask his grandpa to apply while Jace puts the question to Mazey (a decision he should've made himself, to be honest). Bobby's here just to get Kristen expelled, and when they they decided to take the last stand, she grabbed a Rage Shard, strapped it on an arrow, and aimed it at the proctor.

I think that, as the ultimate 'fuck the bad kids' move, the Proctor would go angry and huge and the party would be forced to kill him. Not only does he die, but they were the ones who killed him which would MURDER their grade. I would guess.

But Kristen saw her, and could prove that another student directly interfered with the test (via undergoing a zone of truth). So instead, Kipperlilly indirectly interferes and puts the 'lets kill Buddy' part of the Main Plan into effect. Probably would have happened anyways (they're in a pocket dimension alone, great time to kill a man tbh)

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #dimension 20 #kipperlilly copperkettle #oisin #fantasy high spoilers

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

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Santa Claus has been (George Russell)

A sneak peek into Christmas in the Russell household

Note: english is not my first language. Before New Year comes around, let me get the holidays is somewhat of an order!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Do we have all the supplies we need?", George questioned as Arthur set the glue down, "yes, we're ready, daddy! Can you help me make sure I'm writing it correctly, please?", the little boy asked. While Olivia was fine to write on her own, Arthur had started second grade a couple of months before, and sometimes he still had a little slip here and there.

" 'Dear Santa, my name is Olivia Russell, and this year I have been a good girl. I have always helped mummy and daddy around the house, and I only hurt my brother, Arthur, once and it was an accident because I didn't think I was that strong when I threw the ball at him. ' Do you think that's good, daddy?", your daughter wondered, wanting to know her father's opinion.

"That's good, darling. Now you go on to tell him what you'd like to get from him", George praised, turning his attention back to Arthur's letter, "That's good, well done! Just this one here, it's two 's' and not just one", he pointed to the spot in the paper.

"Are you and mummy also writing a letter for Santa?", Olivia asked once she was finished, hands already holding glue and glitter as she bedazzled her letter, "Me and mummy got eachother a gift and that was it, we have everyhting we need already", George said as he kissed both of their heads, "but I do think Santa is bringing something for mummy as well, but it's a secret between me and him, so you guys can't tell her!", he mused.

"Do you think he knows we're coming?", Arthur wondered as you walked along the Christmas themed park.

"Of course he does, daddy spoke to him, didn't you?", Olivia reasoned back with her brother, "he told us he knew him because he spoke to him!".

"Does daddy know Santa, hm? I didn't know that!", you looked at your husband, quizzical look as you silently wondered where the kids got the idea.

"Daddy knows a lot of people, don't I?", George urged as they walked, winking at you as you made sure you didn't lose anyone in the sea of people, missing the way Olivia apologetically looked at her father, whispering "sorry, daddy!", as she realised she nearly outed her father's secret.

"The line isn't that long", you commented, seeing three families in front of you, "I have your letters here", you fished them out of your bag, handing them to each kid who held onto them.

"Do you think he'll remember us from last year?", Arthur wondered, "well, you two have grown a lot, maybe he'll have some trouble first", you reasoned, not sure what to say and knowing the kids would ask the person in the red and white costume.

"You guys are next!", a young woman dressed in her elf costume clapped, "do you have your letters ready?", she added.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, look at you! What are your names?", the old man in costume asked as he received them inside his house.

"I'm Arthur", your son said, sitting in the bench as his sister followed, "and I'm Olivia!", your daughter cheered, "and that's mummy Y/N and daddy George!", she introduced. "We wanted to bring Maya and Winston", Arthur explained, "but mummy and daddy said that they could get scared so they stayed home, but they're out family too!".

"Do not worry, my friends, I will make sure I leave something for them when I go by your house, I'm sure they've been good this year too", the man winked, gathering them so they could take a picture and talk a little about what they wanted for Christmas.

Leaving things for Santa

"So, we have cookies we baked, a glass of milk if he's thirsty, and then some carrots for the reindeer!", Arthur said, checking if nothing was missing for your visitors.

"Now we have to go to bed, or else Santa won't stop here!", Olivia said, putting a few extra cookies in the plate.

After putting the kids to bed, you and George began to work on your plan. Grabbing the boots, you sprayed them with oil and then dunk the sole in flour, attempting your best to create footsteps, "it's not snowing outside though", George pointed out, wiping the remnants of flour in hopes of making it realistic enough, "Lapland has snow and he still had some on his feet", you shrugged, continuing your task while he filled the stockings and put the big presents under the tree.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, a tiny thought came to your mind, "love?", you called, checking if your husband was still awake.

"Yes?", he acknowledged your call, "I wrapped all of the presents with the same wrapping paper. Which means our presents on the stocking and the presents from Santa Claus are going to be wrapped in the same paper. And we have very observant children!", you hissed.

"We'll just say that Santa's Elves and daddy and mummy have the same taste", George cuddled you, rubbing his lips on your forehead, "sleep, darling, you and I both know we'll need it as much as we can".

You slept for about four, five hours, you guessed until you were woken up by footsteps.

"I heard the door, they're coming here", you groaned into your pillow, feeling George's arm around your waist squeezing you closer to his body, "you're just listening things, darling", he replied.

"Oh yes? Why did you wake up too, then?", you snickered, looking the moonlight peaking through the curtains, "the sun is not even out, George, my goodness", you muttered, snuggling further into your husband as you heard the door open, "Winston can't do that", you grumbled, "neither can Maya", George reasoned with you, making you both groan in unison, "it's the kids".

"Mummy, Daddy", Arthur was the first to speak, "we think Santa has been already, we heard his footsteps on the roof!", Olivia said as she climbed in bed with you, "can we go and see? Please!".

"Don't you guys want to wait a little bit? Warm up in bed with us?", you attempted, hearing the huff from both kids, "we really want to go, mummy, please! We can sleep later!", Olivia reasoned.

Getting up and grabbing a fluffy robe, you and George followed the kids, seeing the grey cat look at you weirdly, "they probably just heard you, Winston, there isn't actually someone else in the house", you petted him as he followed you to the living room, seeing Maya at the corner of your eye who huffed, not understanding why her humans were up that early.

"You can go to sleep, Maya, although they're probably going to start squealing soon", George petted her caramel fur.

"HE HAS BEEN! LOOK, OLIVIA! He ate all the cookies, and the carrot is bitten!", you heard your son excitedly say as he looked for his presents with his sister's help.

"It's your genetics that make them get up this early, I think I'm still asleep", you murmured against your husband's clothed chest, hugging his waist as they unwrapped and gasped at what they got, "my genetics also make them incredibly cute, along with your genetics that make them irresistible, so that's how we do this", George kissed the top of your head.

"Mummy! Santa thought you were a good girl this year, too, look! You have a big present!", Olivia said, "Oh, I'm the best girl, specially for being up at this hour!", you chuckled.

#george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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welcomingdisaster · 11 months

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Ok so I’m rotating ideas about elves and mythology and decided to drop some ramblings in your ask box because of all the wonderful theatre-related thoughts you’ve been sharing!! The thing is that the silm is a mythology right. Like it’s written in that style, and the heroes of LoTR and the later Ages in general are always explicitly looking back to the stories of the First Age (see: Aragorn wanting to cosplay Beren and Lúthien with Arwen). But what were the myths, the cultural stories, of the Elves of the First Age? In Tirion what were the stories that Maglor might write a play retelling or subverting, that Elemmírë might make a new song about, that Míriel might have woven into a tapestry? All cultures have ancient myths – but these characters are a) living at the very dawn of the world, and b) are all going to become mythological figures themselves! It makes me a bit insane. My thoughts are that they told a lot of stories about the war the Valar made on Melkor, and also about Cuivienen and the awakening of the elves, but honestly I don’t KNOW. What do you think? (No pressure to answer this is very random I realise) ❤️❤️

NO I love these thoughts!!! My thoughts generally go along the same vein as yours in terms of the general themes of elven myths. Here are some possibilities I imagine:

Whichever continent the elves in question are not seeing is often the center of the stories. The Sindar and Avari in middle-earth myth-make a lot about the lands in the west; the Eldar in Valinor myth-make about middle-earth. Since we're talking about Elemmírë, Míriel, and Maglor I'll stick to the latter.

I imagine there's aways the pervasive idea of secret Ainur no one has discovered yet. No matter how many times the Valar go "no we promise we're all here in Valinor, there's no other Valar left" there's 100% an elf somewhere going "have you heard about the Vala of bogs? yeah they live in middle earth and they're in charge of all the bogs there and if you aren't careful you'll be stuck serving in their bog court"

Not to mention elves who know Aulë and have heard that his people sleep under the earth, waiting for their time to awake. I'm sure for some elves tell it as simply that, but over time another pervasive myth develops -- stories of great dwarven kingdoms under the earth, kingdoms they're barred from seeing, stories of seven great dwarven kings, each much like Aule in face, each possessing a specific sort of magic.

Imin, Tata, Enel, etc! Not only do we canonically get them as a counting story, I imagine their fates are also something that ends up being talked about? They do not seem like they ever ended up in Valinor -- what happened to them? I feel like elven stories can tend to go along the lines of "and then he turned into a tree" or "he still dwells by the sea where he was born" or "he fell into the cracks of the mountains during the war and became one with the earth."

Myth as a way to explore cultural taboos! Elves coming to Valinor, a land with no pain or crime, with the shadows of war and suffering behind them -- I imagine they must explore taboo and pain through storytelling. What happens to an elf that leaves his wife for another? What happens to an elf who poisons her sister? I imagine there's some gruesome/creepy stories that come out there, but are told with a naïveté to the actual truth of what violence looks like. Something along the lines of "and then the servants of Melkor hacked the elven king into bits, so his wife had to go looking for each piece of him in every corner of the world and sew them back together"

The sea!! Must I say more. The elves emerged from the sea, and they long for it -- yet they cannot go too far into the waves without drowning, and they do not know what lurks under the waves. I imagine myths centering around sea-creatures, around the souls of the drowned, around elves (mer-elves?) who never left the sea and make their kingdoms underneath the waters, etc.

Just some ideas!! If anyone else wants to contribute headcanons for early elf myths to his post, please do!

#lena speaks #theghostinthemargins #thank you for this ask this is something i think about a lot #one of my fave things to think about :)

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imagine-silk · 4 months

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I wanna wish my fallout 4 boys for a merry christmas... MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! I LOVE YOU!!! (happy christler to u too iff u celebrate)

》And I love you random citizen. I did have a good Christmas, thank you... but I got sick immediately after. Happy holidays!

[Codsworth] "Sir/Mum, I've hope you like the decor. It's not perfect but as long as we're with loved ones we'll love. Isn't that right?"

Under his cheery attitude he is grieving the loss of the world. It's his first Christmas with you back and he wants the rest of the family. Nate/Nora and young Shaun, along with brothers and sisters, and uncles and cousins. But he forces himself to stay positive. Not focus on 'what was' and focus on 'what is'.

[Danse] "Say the word and I'll be there. Whatever you need."

He's more concerned with helping. Having a huge party was something he's never done. Back in the Brotherhood all holiday affairs were kept under wraps. So in all the new excitement he doesn't really care about the day itself, more like being involved.

[Deacon] "Tell me, [Name], have you been a good boy/girl?"

You will not see him outside any sort of costume the entire night. And he has several lined up. Santa, Rudolph, an elf, scrooge pj's. He's also seen with a drink always in his hand. Whether or not it's the same drink, no one knows.

[Hancock] "I'm probably already on the naughty list so let's just have fun."

The entire town of Good Neighbor is partying like the Santa's actually gonna join them. There's a stupid amount of milk and cookies considering the fact none of them are chemed or spiked. They also have a giant white elephant with all the presents.

[MacCready] "What the hell is Christmas?"

In Little Lamp Light they didn't have the tradition and after leaving he never let himself indulge in it so he never learn what exactly it was. To him it's just a gift exchange. Explaining it to him isn't easy either. A big old man, who wears red, flies all over the world in one night in a sleigh with reindeer delivering presents to all the children. What is a reindeer? How? Why?

[Nick] "Merry Christmas, pal/doll. You deserve a break."

No matter what relationship you have with him, he's going to catch you under the mistletoe to tease you. Especially if he's a sort of mentor to you. He thinks it's cute. Besides that, he makes sure you're relaxing and not worried about anything so you can have a break.

[Preston] "I'm glad we did this. It's nice to see everyone warm."

For him, Christmas is the most stressful holiday, given that it's the coldest and people tend to fight over gifts. But it's still a holiday so it's nice. He's also almost immediately buried in gifts by settlers.

[X6] "Happy holidays."

He doesn't care in any meaningful capacity other than you celebrating, he has enough decency to keep it to himself though. You know he wasn't going to give you a gift so he doesn't. If you get him anything he'll take it and tell you why he likes it as an effort to be nice.

#ask and you shall receive #fallout 4 #gender neutral reader #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #codsworth #danse #deacon fo4 #hancock #maccready #nick valentine #preston garvey #x6 88

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mtr1234 · 25 days

Text

KOLTC fans who do not like Fitz, this post is for you. Fitz fans who do not believe people have sound arguments about why they dislike Fitz, this post is also for you.

Disclaimer:

I will mention stuff that happened in Stellarlune, so if you are not caught up with the series you might not want to continue reading.

I will try to provide quotes, but I will likely just describe the scene and what book it is in when I provide my reasons.

Also, this post will be pretty long which may or may not be a good thing depending on who you are.

______________________________________________________________

Anyway, let’s get to the reasons why I dislike Fitz. I have broken them up into three main categories, and I will be talking about aspects of Fitz’s character that I think a lot of people overlook (not the reasons that people do tend to mention: him having anger issues and being boring)

I don’t know if you guys have noticed this, but Fitz is really shady, Iike really shady (and not in a good way like our favorite shade Tam)

He has eavesdropped on Sophie and Keefe’s conversations before which I find so weird

In Lodestar, when Sophie and Keefe were communicating telepathically in that slimy location that Keefe picked out, Fitz started listening in on their conversation without their knowledge. He said it was because he was worried since he heard Sophie gasp. Personally, I do not buy this excuse. He can literally see Sophie so he could easily determine that she is not in danger. At the very least, why did he not immediately announce that he was listening once he knew Sophie was okay? In my opinion, it just feels odd, and if I were Sophie or Keefe I would feel a bit uneasy.

In Flashback, Sophie and Keefe were talking in the healing center about starting weapons training, and Sophie asks Keefe if he is down to do that (or something along those lines). Fitz immediately shouts, “I’m in!” The shady thing about this was that he was sleeping in his cot when they were talking. Now, I’m not saying that he is expected to cover his ears while they have a private convo in the healing center. But the thing is, he pretended to be asleep to listen to more of their conversation which is creepy.

The next very shady thing was the gift he gave Sophie in Legacy which was a painting he asked Keefe to make.

I always thought this was shady because, for one thing, he completely stole Keefe’s idea for a gift. Come on, a painting with a heartfelt message on the back?! That was literally what Keefe gave Sophie in Nightfall. Here comes the actual shady part though: why did he not just go to Atlantis or somewhere and have someone paint it for him? He purposefully asked Keefe to paint the confession scene between him and Sophie when he knows that Keefe likes Sophie. That is so messed up. This is made even worse by the fact that he paid Keefe when literally every elf is born with an unlimited birth fund so it was essentially worthless.

This next example happened in Legacy. I feel like a lot of people forgot about this or kind of swept in under the rug, but I think it is actually very telling of the type of person Fitz is. I am talking about when Fitz decided to search Lord Cassius’s mind to learn anything about where Alvar might be after he got away in Flashback.

There are several shady things about what happened in this scene. First of all, Fitz decided to do this even though he knew that it would make Keefe uncomfortable (Fitz would see the abuse/trauma Keefe suffered at home). Secondly, Fitz did this without even asking Keefe first or even letting him know about it. If you recall, he literally just showed up at Keefe’s house without any warning. Lastly, he tried to lie about it too. He tried to say “I’m doing this for Keefe” and “whatever I find will be helpful for Keefe”. Give me a break, we all know he did not do this out of concern for Keefe and he was caught lying in the act by Keefe himself. *I find it funny how he tried to lie about it to Keefe, when Keefe is literally the strongest empath in their world and is literally so smart even though he does not get enough credit for it.

2. When he gets mad at Sophie, the first thing he does is belittle her or try to make her feel stupid:

This first example comes from Exile when Fitz was getting mad at Sophie about what happened to his dad. Now, a lot of people like to dismiss how Fitz acted in this situation because he was under a lot of stress, but I do not think this is right to do because it absolves Fitz of any guilt instead of addressing how his behavior was wrong. The specific scene I am referring to is when, I believe, Alvar suggests that maybe Sophie can help Alden and then Fitz responds with: “Please, she’s just a kid.” What I get from this statement is that he is making Sophie feel less than, and in the process he is putting himself above her “level”. Now, one can use the excuse that he wasn’t himself and that he was torn up with grief, but he says similar things to Sophie later on in the series (when his dad is not on his deathbed) which I mention below.

This next example happens towards the end of Legacy, just before Fitz and Sophie broke up. Sophie was defending her decision to search Lord Cassius’s mind for any important information even though Fitz was already doing that (she honestly didn’t even need to do this because everyone knew he was getting nowhere and that he would never have found anything useful). Anyway, Fitz responds with: “So you thought the Moonlark needed to swoop in and take over? The leader of Team Valiant? Lady Sophie Foster? The fact that he is trying to make her feel bad about her accomplishments is a major red flag in my opinion. As someone who supposedly cares about her more than anyone, he should feel the most proud of her successes.

This third example is from Stellarlune. It’s when Fitz and Sophie have their first telepathy session after the whole “Fitzphie’s not a thing!” debacle. So, Sophie is asking Tiergan what a Cognate Inquisition is and then here comes the interjection: “Better question,” Fitz jumped in using a smug tone that made [Sophie] wish one of the buttons on her telepathy chair would turn Fitz’s into an ejector seat and launch him out of the room. “Why were you hoping to spare us from it?” I just think this is unnecessary and uncalled for; why is he trying to embarrass/ one up her in front of their mentor? (Did he forget that he is the one who joined her session, not the other way around?)

3. The last major issue I have with Fitz is the fact that he guilt trips Sophie and Keefe a lot. And, just so everybody is aware, not about minor stuff. He tries to make them feel guilty about things that are completely out of their control, and as you are reading these examples I just want you to keep in mind that elves are not equipped to handle guilt. Their mind can literally shatter if they feel too much of it (like Alden), and that’s why I think it is so horrific every time Fitz does stuff like this:

Everybody knows this one, but I am still going to put it here because it is worth mentioning. In Exile, Fitz blamed Sophie for his dad’s mind shattering. I have seen a lot of people try to say it is justified because he was going through a lot at the time, but I disagree. I think we can all agree that just because someone is going through a tough time (no matter how tough it may be), it does not give them the right to bully an innocent person.

Moving on, in Flashback, towards the end of the book Fitz makes everyone search for Alvar because he thinks he is up to something shady. When they find Alvar and question him, Keefe says that he can tell that Alvar is telling the truth. Then Fitz retorts, “Like you could tell with your mom?” In this remark, he is referring to the fact that, before she revealed her betrayal, Keefe had no idea that his mom was evil. This made me so angry on Keefe’s behalf because everyone already knows that he blames himself for everything that his mom is doing. With every revelation about his mom’s plan he sees how much worse things truly are, and that sends him into a downward spiral of guilt. For his “best friend” to say this to him is so messed up.

This is not another example, just my own thoughts about what I said above so you can skip it if you would like. I never understood why people (namely the Councillors) expected Keefe to know that his mom was evil. For one thing, his parents are literally known for never showing any physical or emotional affection to him. So, how is he supposed to be able to read his mom’s emotions if he never is close to her? Secondly, I think people are forgetting that as an empath he can only read people’s emotions. He does not know the reason why they are feeling the way that they do unless he has context. Lastly, his mom was literally erasing his memories left and right so whatever information he could even manage to glean would be wiped from his mind. Meanwhile, Fitz is literally a telepath, and he had no idea his brother was evil (and I assume he must have read his brother’s mind at least one time) so I think he needs to lay off the judgment.

In Legacy, Gisela leaves a note for Sophie to bring Keefe to Loamnore during the “showdown” (or whatever you want to call it). Anyway, Sophie does not want to do this because it is obviously a trap, and Keefe gives in and agrees to stay behind. When he makes this decision, Fitz says, “Wow, you really hate Tam that much? Because he’s the one who’ll pay the price if you’re not there—you get that right?” Is it just me or does that not sound so condescending? All I can say to this is how does he have the nerve to blame Gisela’s actions on Keefe, especially when Keefe is one of the people working the hardest to stop her? Also, it is crazy that Fitz is guilt tripping Keefe for deciding not to be bait and leaving his life in the hands of his (crazy) mom. I’m sure it’s easy for Fitz to say that because he is not the one who is being targeted by an evil mastermind who wants to experiment on him.

This last example happened in Stellarlune, so it is is quite literally very recent. Fitz and Sophie are in the school cafeteria, and they are disagreeing about next steps to take to stop the Neverseen. In that conversation Fitz says, “But sometimes it feels like you don’t realize that it’s only a matter of time before something you do gets someone else killed?” In my opinion this is a completely unfair statement to make against Sophie. First of all, since the beginning of the series she never wanted her friends involved in the fight against the Neverseen because she wanted to keep them safe. However, her friends (including Fitz) would not take no for an answer and insisted on helping. Secondly, Sophie is always going above and beyond (risking her life) to save that of others. Both times when she almost died fixing her abilities, she endured it all for the sake of becoming stronger and protecting her friends, family, and her world. That is why I think the way Fitz is trying to make her feel guilty, and put the entire weight of people’s lives on her shoulders, is so unjustified. She is literally a young girl trying to do her best to save her world from crazy powerful villains, cut her some slack.

If you made it to the end, thanks for reading. Honestly, there are many more examples that could be brought up that I’m sure a lot of you are thinking about, but I am too lazy to write all of that. I just wanted to share my thoughts because I have been seeing some people say that Fitz has had good character development throughout the series (which I just have not seen) and does not deserve all the hate so I just wanted to share why I believe Fitz is viewed the way he is by a majority of the Keeper fandom.

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