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koenigami · 2 months

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➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea.

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office.

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters.

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks.

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself.

“He should get here soon.”

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea.

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state.

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?”

Wake… up?

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia-

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more.

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne.

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme.

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?”

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course.

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne?

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing.

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself.

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this.

And, god damn, did he miss it.

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos.

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed.

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley comfort

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Part 4!! (No content warnings)

Fuck these men :)

You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.

You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.

“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.

“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.

“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”

You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.

You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”

You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.

Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.

“I just think you deserve—”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”

Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.

“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.

He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.

“Thank you, Nik.”

You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.

“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.

You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.

“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”

You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”

His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”

You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.

“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”

You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.

Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.

“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”

You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.

“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.

You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.

“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.

You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.

“Okay.”

“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.

You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.

“Okay.”

“I look out for my soldiers.”

You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”

Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.

“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.

“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.

“Captain,” he says.

You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.

“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.

“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”

“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.

Fucking Ghost.

You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.

What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.

So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.

“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”

His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.

Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.

“It’s not nap time,” you groan.

“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.

“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.

You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.

When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.

It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.

“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.

You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.

“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.

“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”

His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.

“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”

He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”

You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #angst #sad fic #former 141 reader #specgru reader #cod nikto #keegan p russ #nova cod #task force 141

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huntersrequiem-if · 5 months

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Hunter's Requiem

demo [tba] | forum [tba]

dark fantasy, horror (?), romance

You are a minor deity of the Hunt, known by your followers as The Hunter, used by the other Higher Beings as The Hound. The All-Seeing Sun had given you countless tasks over your existence.

Yet one day, while on a mission sent out by him, you were summoned and judged for treason. The punishment left you mangled; your magic ripped off.

Cast away, you went into a deep sleep to recover.

After centuries you awoke to find your name spoken in whispers in the darkest nights. The Traitor. The world has changed, yet you still have true believers who await your awakening.

Will you be successful in your revenge? Will you be able to topple the gods or will you try to live in peace?

Features:

Play as male, female, nonbinary.

Your choices will affect the fate of your followers.

Befriend, romance or even antagonize a wide cast of characters.

Have a loyal shadowy companion by your side.

Astaroth [M]

"And to think I hated you. Now I can’t imagine living a single day without you.”

Your “other half”, attached to your psyche. He is content to stay in the backseat and offer comments. Tall and lean with gray skin. His face is sharp and angular, eyes with black sclera and white iris. Long black straight hair parted only by his antlers. His hands are black, tipped with long claws. The gradient loses color the closer it gets to his elbow. When he grins at you, you see beast-like teeth glinting in the light.

The Beloved Moon [F]

"That was the worst mistake I ever made. Please, I will do anything you want for you to forgive me.”

Moon has a curious interest in you. Since the moment she saw you, she had sought any chance to talk with you.

A short woman with deep blue skin and freckles that shine like stars. Her skin is shifting between deep blue and purple. She has a round face with full lips and a button nose. Round eyes with black sclera and bright blue iris stare at you with curiosity. Her long curly hair is white with pale blue streaks. Massive white feathered wings cover her back, sometimes used to cover her body like a cloak. Her smile might be gentle but the sharp fangs showed less so.

The Eternal Night [NB]

“I have turned a blind eye to the world far too long. I will no longer allow anything to happen to you.”

The Eternal Night is a distant person. Even more towards the other gods, yet for you they show a kinder side. They are tall and slender. Their sharp face is softened by full lips and expressive eyes. They have dark grey skin paired with stark white hair, that reaches their chin. The wavy strands frame their face nicely. Their eyes-- black sclera with crimson iris—are often covered by their mask. Massive black wings sprout from their back, and then the light catches the feathers right they look more blue than dark.

Santana [F/M]

"Why is it that every time I look at you I feel that I have known you for lifetimes? Why does my soul yearn for you?"

A priest you met in your past, a rather interesting person with a stubborn brand of kindness.

Tawny skin sprinkled with freckles. Golden hair is kept in a braid, far away from their face, yet a few strands escape and frame their heart-shaped face. Expressive eyes look at you, their blue gaze shining brightly.

They stand at an average height, donning the white and golden robes of the priests of Sun. Over that, they wear a chainmail.

You thought you lost them to the sands of time.

??? [F/M]

“Do you have any idea how long I prayed to see you, to hear your voice?”

Every day, they're slipping farther, their grip on the edge of the chasm growing fragile. Can you drag them back or will you shove them off?

#interactive fiction #if: intro #if game #if wip #interactive novel #interactive game #hunter's requiem if

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ccbb2222 · 8 months

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I Can Fix That — Bradley Bradshaw x Reader One Shot

It's been awhile...hasn't it? Summary: Bradley has a new neighbor, and he's more than willing to come to her rescue on more than one occasion.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff Also....yes the title is a reference to Holes :)

The first time Bradley Bradshaw comes to your rescue is on moving day.

The heat was unforgiving, your UHaul was filled to the brim, and you were beginning to doubt that you could handle moving all on your own. With an aching back and a scowl, you begin to pull on the side of the loveseat that you had somehow managed to lug into the UHaul just hours before. Panic struck your eyes as you realized it was about to topple over directly on top of you. "Woah, woah, woah," You hear a gruff voice say as a muscular arm makes its way into you peripheral vision. The love seat levels out, and you turn your head to thank your hero.

Deep, honey colored brown eyes, soft and warm distract you for a moment. "Thank you," You say, voice soft, as you realize just how close the handsome stranger is standing to you.

A deep chuckle makes its way out of his mouth as he smiles, "No worries. No one should die by the hands of a sofa." Over the course of the next hour, Bradley, as you've come to learn his name, helps you unpack your UHaul. You try not to get distracted by his gentle coaching, "Just a bit to the left, you got it. Nice, just a bit further." Your mind wanders to thoughts of Bradley wrapped in your sheets, instructing you this way and that. Your cheeks warm, and you're grateful of the excuse of manual labor as the cause.

Sweat drips from both of your bodies in the San Diego heat as you stand back with your hands on your hips. Bradley expertly pulls the sliding door down on the back of the rental truck, and you admire his back muscles as they ripple against the his shirt.

"I cannot thank you enough," You say, daring a glance at him. His biceps glisten under his black t-shirt, and you're momentarily entranced by him.

"Don't mention it," He says turning to face you with a ruffled brow, "This is a lot for one person to handle. Why didn't anyone offer to help you?"

Your smile falls slightly as you remember the cause for your move. Your break up. It was unexpected, to say the least. You walked in on your boyfriend of four years with his "work friend," tangled in the sheets of your four post bed. The bed you had picked out together at a flea market, and the one you left behind despite your love for the aesthetic. It was ruined now.

"Let's just say I was in a rush to move," You supply vaguely, and Bradley nods his head, unbothered.

"Well, if you need anything, just come find me, I'm in 24B."

"Thank you Bradley," you say, and he smiles softly, raising his hand for a wave, and heading back into the building.

_____ The second time Bradley comes to your rescue is after you forget your keys to the main apartment building. Why had you decided to take your trash out in a torrential downpour? You scowl, picturing vividly your keys hanging on the key rack. Inside your unit. Leaving you stranded and your clothes seeping through.

You try to buzz your neighbors, truly anyone, to let you in. But following a notice from the building warning against letting in non-residents, you weren't surprised when your buzzes went unanswered.

"Fuck," You say, trying to press your self to the side of the building, the small overhang not providing much relief from the wind and rain. Your white t-shirt was fully soaked through, and there was a 99% chance you resembled a drowned cat.

As if your luck couldn't get any worse, you see a familiar Bronco pull into the parking lot, and you shut your eyes in defeat. Of course your hot neighbor had to once again come to your rescue.

You knees nearly buckle as you see him, dressed in what looks like a flight suit making his way to you, a slight jog in his step as he dodges raindrops.

"Locked out?" He smiles, fishing quickly for his keys.

"Nope, just enjoying the storm," You say with a playful sarcasm.

He chuckles and unlocks the door, motioning for you to go in before him.

"Thank you," You turn to him while collecting your sopping wet hair over one shoulder and quickly making your way into the dry lobby. "Hey," You say, taking in his full appearance, "I didn't realize you were in the service. Guess that explains why you're so helpful all the time." Bradley smiles, "Yes ma'am," God, that sent a shock straight to your core, "Naval aviator at your service." Now that...made him even hotter.

"Very impressive," You nod your head approvingly, "Although, it's nothing compared to a work-from-home graphic designer. I've had life or death moments with Photoshop like you wouldn't believe." Were you...flirting? And was he...kinda into it? "Oh," he clutches at his chest, "the agony, I'm sure." The two of you walk towards the elevator and he once again motions for you to step in first.

"Are you also locked out of your apartment?" He asks, scratching at his neck, and you try not to get distracted by his bicep, "You're welcome to come hangout while you wait for a locksmith." "Luckily I left my door unlocked," You say before you can even catch the words coming out of your mouth.

He nods, and looks down.

Fuck. You had an in. You could've been in his space, with him and you blew it. "But thank you for the —" the elevator doors open quickly and you realize you're on your floor, "offer Bradley. I appreciate it!" He smiles with a nod, and you exit the elevator, turning to see his eyes once more and his lips quirk up in a smile as the doors close.

______

The third time Bradley Bradshaw comes to your rescue is when your oven is, quite literally, on fire. You intended on baking Bradley some thank you brownies (and okay, it was also a ploy to see him again), but it turned into a complete disaster. Somehow you didn't notice the crack at the bottom of your glass baking dish, and brownie batter dripped onto the bottom of the oven, causing smoke and eventually flames.

"Jesus Christ!" You let out an exasperated cry as your fire alarm starts buzzing, smoke starts to fill your apartment, and you throw open your door to find the nearest fire extinguisher.

You're stunned to see an equally surprised looking Bradley outside your door.

"What are you doing here?" You say, not impolitely, but given your frazzled state, you instantly feel paranoid about your outburst. "I was coming by to see if you happened to have any eggs to spare, but I can see you have bigger issues to deal with," He smirks at you and pushes past you to assess the damage. Smoke is quickly filling your small kitchen and you cough as you just point mutely to the source.

Bradley reaches up to disable the fire alarm, and turns the oven off before asking, "Do you have any baking soda?" You quickly throw open the fridge and hand it to him. He calmly opens the oven, dumps the baking soda on the flames, and you watch in awe as they begin to simmer.

"What — how? Baking soda?" You stammer, words failing you completely.

He chuckles, "My mom was a terrible cook. I learned how to put out an oven fire at a young age. Baking soda kills the oxygen, and the fire with it." You laugh nodding, "Well, that's good to know. Those were...supposed to be for you." You admit, pointing to the sad-looking, burned brownies.

"For me?" He smiles softly, and opens your apartment window to let out the smoke.

"Yeah well," You say, fanning out the smoke with a dish towel, "You came to my rescue more than once over the past few weeks, and now I guess I owe you more than brownies." You motion for him to join you in your smoke-free living room and he follows obediently. "How about dinner?" He says, a smile once again on his face as he leaned his beautiful body against the door way.

You blush instantly. Dinner? Your heart rate races as you return a shy smile. "Dinner sounds nice."

He lets out a chuckle, "For what it's worth, I'd put out weekly oven fires if it meant I could make you blush like that." "Stop it," You say, grabbing at your flaming cheeks. "Oh, did still need those eggs?" You turn to go back into the kitchen and recover from your embarrassment. Bradley grabs your arm softly and turns you to face him, "I never needed eggs. Just needed an excuse to visit my favorite neighbor." __________________________________________________

IM ALIVE.

Helpful neighbor Bradley just hits different.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Four

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: An understanding is reached and Aegon dishes family dirt at a BBQ.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee table, the buzzing causing it to move dangerously close to the edge. Quick as a flash, Mysaria lunges forward from the sofa to catch it before it topples to the floor, smirking when she sees the name that’s flashing up on the screen.

“How many times is that today now?” She asks, gently tossing the phone to her as a missed call notification replaces the incoming call alert.

She shrugs, not averting her gaze from the TV screen as a rerun of Come Dine with Me, that neither of them are particularly paying attention to, plays to itself. “Dunno. He’ll get the hint eventually.”

It’s Sunday evening and she hasn’t spoken to Aemond since she woke up alone in his flat the previous morning, despite the fact he texts and calls her more times than she can count. She deletes the messages without reading them, and lets each of his calls go to voicemail. He’d made her feel cheap, used, put a price on her body, and she had no desire to ever speak to him again.

Mysaria sighs, flopping back against the sofa cushions. “Can I be a bitch for a second?” She asks, turning her head to face her. “You aren’t going to like it, but I think you need to hear it.”

She leans her head back, eyes flitting to meet her flatmate’s, already feeling a prickle of annoyance heat her skin, but decides to let her say her piece. “Go on then.”

“Why are you punishing him because you’ve caught feelings?”

Her annoyance bursts forth into anger as her brow furrows, her body language becoming squared and defensive. “I haven’t–”

“Yes, you have,” Mysaria interrupts. “I get that he did a shitty thing by leaving you high and dry, but he clearly feels bad or he wouldn’t keep trying to reach you. Give the guy a chance to explain himself, if you don’t like what he has to say then break things off.”

She scoffs in frustration, turning back towards the TV and rolling her eyes. “You are so bloody annoying!”

“Because I’m right,” Mysaria says smugly, leaning over to tap her on the nose. “You gonna call him back then?”

She chews her lip absentmindedly, turning her phone around in her hands. She supposes it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to him, if only to ask how to return the five grand he’d transferred to her.

The buzzer to the flat startles her out of her train of thought and Mysaria peels herself off of the sofa with a groan of “Finally! I’m bloody starving!”

Pizza first, then she’ll call him. She’s definitely not putting it off, she reasons with herself, she just doesn’t want her food to go cold.

“Erm…so it’s not pizza…” Mysaria says awkwardly as she re-enters the living room, a silver haired figure a good deal taller than her trailing behind her.

Dread gnaws at her stomach as she takes in the sight of Aemond, hair thrown back in a bun, dressed in a tight black henley and fitted black jeans, holding the largest bouquet of lilies and roses she’s ever seen before. Even when she’s angry with him he still manages to look absolutely breathtaking, and it irritates her.

“I’ll just…uh…” Mysaria makes a gesture towards her bedroom, and quickly makes herself scarce.

Lucky bitch.

“You’ve not been returning my calls,” Aemond says flatly.

“No…” She responds quietly, feeling the warmth of embarrassment spread through her, as she plucks nervously at the legs of her jogging bottoms. He’s never seen her not put together, and she loathes that she feels shame for her appearance, when she hasn’t done anything wrong. Him seeing her with messy hair, an oversized t-shirt and threadbare joggers makes her feel weak and vulnerable in his presence.

“Or replying to my texts.”

“I know.”

“Listen, if the other night wasn’t good, or I hurt you–”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She interjects, suddenly realising how absurd he looks, stood in the middle of the living room, dwarfing everything around him with his obscenely large bunch of flowers.

Aemond nods gratefully, taking the seat next to hear. “These are you for, by the way,” He tells her, handing her the flowers.

She hums a quiet thanks, immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness of their aroma, and places them on the coffee table, knowing she’ll need no distractions if she’s to say what she needs to say.

“The other night was great, really great, actually,” She begins. “But you just left the next morning without a word, and that really upset me.”

“You were upset because I left?” He asks, sounding almost surprised.

“Yes!” She replies with exasperation. “You made me feel cheap, and used.”

“Cheap? But I bank transferred you afterwards.”

“Jesus, Aemond! I’m not a prostitute!” She throws up her hands angrily, gesticulating her point.

He swallows thickly, clearly considering his next words carefully. “I know you said you’ve never done anything like this before, but neither have I, and I made a mistake. My grandfather called me into the office early on Saturday morning. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry that my carelessness has hurt you, but I am keen to continue our arrangement.”

It all seems so simple when he words it like that. She could easily have reached out to question his actions, but she’d allowed her emotions to guide her and now feels foolish because of it. When she says nothing, Aemond presses on.

“No funny business, I promise. We don’t have to sleep together again, but I’ve enjoyed having your company at family functions, it makes them more bearable. Please say you’ll consider it?”

She’s not sure what prompts the words from her mouth, perhaps it’s the pleading look in Aemond’s eye, or the fact that she enjoys his company too, but she says them before she fully has a chance to think about them. “Okay, we’ll carry on as before.”

“Thank you,” He says earnestly.

The buzzer sounding again prevents him from saying anything else, as Mysaria hurries from her room towards the door, in pursuit of her pizza delivery.

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave,” Aemond says softly. “I’ll text you, okay?”

She nods, and they both stand, hovering near each other, both unsure of what would be an appropriate goodbye. Eventually Aemond leans in, kissing the corner of her mouth lightly before pulling back and exiting the flat. She holds her fingers against the area, still able to feel the press of his lips even after he’s departed.

It takes three days for Aemond to message her again, and in that time it feels as though she could crawl out of her own skin with the apprehension that his silence brings. Had he changed his mind, decided her withdrawing contact over an honest mistake was too much to deal with? It fills her with a nervous energy that makes the days unbearable.

The relief she feels when he finally deigns to reach out is borderline humiliating.

Not sure if you remember my half sister, Rhaenyra, but she is having a BBQ on Saturday. Are you free?

I remember. Are you sure you want to go after what happened on your mum’s birthday? Xoxo

My mother will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t go. Will you come with me?

Yeah, I’m free :) xoxo

When Saturday finally rolls around, she keeps her hair and make-up simple, wearing a floral sundress and strappy sandals, but immediately feels underdressed as she recognises the house they pull up outside of as being the one they’d been to for Jace and Baela’s engagement party.

She has little time to dwell on her appearance though, as Aemond ushers her through the expanse of the house and out into the back garden. A sprawling, lush green lawn that could be considered more of a field due to its size plays host to various members of the Targaryen and Hightower families, as the smell of barbecued meat lingers on the breeze.

Aemond leads her around, his hand glued to the small of her back, so she can say polite hellos to everyone. Alicent and Criston greet her with warm hugs and kisses to both cheeks, Helaena does the same, while standing with Baela and Rhaena, the two girls offer a quick “hello” in sing-song unity. Aegon merely holds up a hand by way of greeting, looking less than enthusiastic to be there, and Otto says a polite “good to see you both”. The rest of the family’s greetings are a little more frosty, with Rhaenyra, Jace, Luke and Joffrey giving curt nods of acknowledgement, while Daemon is too preoccupied with the barbecue to notice they’ve even arrived.

“Viserys and Aegon not joining us?” Alicent asks Rhaenyra softly.

“It would mean having to switch off their Playstation, so I very much doubt it,” Rhaenyra says with a roll of her eyes.

The tension is palpable, but her nerves subside slightly when she sees a Rhodesian ridgeback galloping around the garden, with a copper coloured dachshund hot on its heels.

“Oh cute!” She says, turning to Aemond. “Could you not have brought Vhagar?”

“No,” He sighs. “She doesn’t get along with Syrax and Caraxes, so I’ve left her with the dog sitter.”

She gratefully accepts a glass of Pimm’s that’s offered to her by Otto, before he tells Aemond he needs a word.

“You’ll be okay for a moment won’t you, darling?” Aemond asks her.

The pet name causes her breath to catch in her throat and she merely nods, not trusting herself to speak. As they walk away together, she wanders over to a corner of the large garden, pretending to examine an ornate sundial to keep herself busy, when she feels a presence beside her.

Aegon has sidled up to her, beer in hand, a slight smirk on his face. “Having fun?”

“About as much as you are, by the looks of things,” She replies with a tight smile.

“At least you’re getting paid to be here.”

Her eyes go wide, her chest tightening as she realises he knows.

Aegon chuckles. “Ah, you didn’t think I knew? It’s fine, who do you think showed him the app?”

“O-oh…” is all she’s able to stammer, feeling too shocked to say anything else.

“You play a convincing part,” He takes a swig from his bottle. “Too good to be acting, actually. You can’t fake how you look at my brother.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She snaps, feeling the familiar heat of embarrassment tingle at her flesh.

Aegon snorts derisively. “Look, take it from me, don’t get attached. My brother is the last person you want to get involved with. This whole family is a fucking car crash.”

She sips anxiously at her drink, nodding slightly. “I’d noticed none of you seem to get along that well.”

“That is the fucking understatement of the century. Has Aemond told you much about us?”

“Nothing substantial.”

“Allow me to fill you in,” He gestures discreetly towards Alicent. “My mother used to be best friends with my half-sister, they went to school together. My grandfather and my father were business partners, tri-owners of multiple companies alongside Daemon. When my father’s wife, Rhaenyra’s mother, passed away suddenly, my mother started dating my father.”

“Jesus…” She mutters under her breath.

“Oh, it gets worse!” He says with a leer. “See, Rhaenyra wasn’t happy that her best friend had shacked up with her dad. I mean, who would be? She was even more pissed off when the three of us came along, as it meant she was no longer an only child. She started sleeping around to get back at my father, that’s how she ended up with those three.”

Aegon nods towards where Jace, Luke and Joffrey all stand.

“What about her other two children, Aegon and Viserys?”

“Those are the kids she’s had with Daemon. They got married shortly before my father passed away. Mum thinks she did it just to strengthen her claim of the assets, as Daemon’s a partner in the business and Dad didn’t bother to leave a will. Everything Mum has ever tried to claim for us she’s contested.”

“So that’s what all that talk of Dragonstone Cottage was about at your Mum’s birthday?”

“Yeah, ‘Nyra’s sneaky way of trying to hoard assets for her brood.”

“How do Baela and Rhaena fit into all of this?”

“They’re Daemon’s children from a previous marriage.”

“But Baela is engaged to Jace, isn’t that a bit…” She trails off, not knowing the exact word she wants to use.

“Incestuous?” Aegon lets out a laugh that borders on being too unhinged to come from a place of genuine mirth, before taking another swig of his beer. “Yeah, yeah, it is.”

“So what does this have to do with Aemond? Why should I not get involved?”

Aegon rounds on her. “Has he ever told you about, y’know…” He taps his eye.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Hmmm. Probably best to leave that to him to explain then.”

Their attention is pulled away by the sound of a fork being tapped against the side of a glass. She turns to see Daemon standing at the head of the garden. “Just wanted to thank you all for joining us today”, He says as everyone gathers closer, herself and Aegon included. “I think such an occasion is cause for celebration.” He brandishes a bottle of champagne, before popping the cork, a few that are stood closest step back out of its line of fire.

Luke smirks, elbowing Aemond. “He should be careful, almost had your other eye out.”

It happens so suddenly it seems like a blur, but Aemond has Luke by the collar and Aegon is rushing forward to tackle Jace away. Punches are thrown from both sides, until the ensuing scuffle is broken apart by Daemon and Otto.

Aemond’s eye is wild as he approaches her, his breathing ragged, and his usually immaculately styled hair tousled. “Come on, we’re leaving,” He grits out.

She has to hurry to keep up with his long strides through the house and to the car, and they drive in silence, Aemond’s knuckles blanched with the force of the grip he has on the steering wheel.

She drums her fingers anxiously against her thighs, not quite knowing what to say, but it is Aemond who eventually breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” He says quietly. “It was a bad idea for us to go today.”

“What was that all about?” She asks as gently as she can. “What got you so heated?”

Aemond sighs heavily, keeping his focus on the road ahead, and for a moment she doesn’t think he will answer her.

“Luke’s the reason I lost my eye,” He admits. “His little comment today got to me, and I lashed out.”

“What happened?” She turns slightly in the passenger seat to face him.

“It’s stupid really, an irresponsible rich family allowing their kids to roam the woods with Airsoft guns. The official story is that it was an accident, but accidents don’t happen at point blank range, accidents aren’t something you never apologise for.”

“Jesus, Aemond, I’m so sorry.” Her heart aches for him, having to play happy families with someone who has maimed him

“It is what it is,” He says with a slight shrug. “Makes being around them harder than it already is though. Thank you for being there with me today.”

“That’s alright,” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her dress as they pull up outside her block of flats. “Do you want to come inside for a bit? You shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling like this.”

No funny business.

Her heart races as Aemond’s hands disappear up her skirt, reappearing with her underwear grasped in his fingers, dragging them down her legs.

We don’t have to sleep together again.

She buries her hands into the softness of his hair as he latches his mouth against her, bringing her to quick release with harsh strokes of his tongue. Every thought of what they’d discussed on Sunday evening leaves her mind as he pushes her back against the mattress, the force of his thrusts inside of her causing her toes to curl and her eyes to roll back, until he eventually collapses against her with a grunt, the faint pulsation of him inside of her signifying he’s reached his end.

They fall asleep, curled around each other in her tiny double bed and she’s pleased to see he’s still there when she awakens the following morning.

“Your mattress is fucking terrible,” Aemond grouses sleepily, pulling her tighter against him. “It feels like I’ve slept on a pile of loose change.”

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck.

They spend most mornings like that, over the coming weeks. Aemond becomes a frequent presence in the little flat. Her feet stay planted in his lap while they watch TV after work in the evenings, before he fucks her into the mattress like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their mornings are lazy and indulgent, spent slowly exploring every inch of each other, before they part ways to go to work, only to do it all over again in the evening.

She buys a dog bed, which takes up half the floor space in her bedroom. Aemond raises an eyebrow at this.

“Vhagar’s quite fussy about where she sleeps,” He tells her, only to watch in disbelief as the elderly doberman circles several times on it, before settling down to nap. “I stand corrected.”

Their presence in her life becomes larger as time goes on, and it’s difficult not to feel that it is more than it is, but she is constantly reminded of the transactional nature with every shopping trip on Oxford Street, every visit to Champney’s Spa, each time he hands her his credit card.

The thought occurs to her that perhaps she ought to broach the topic of what they are, how their relationship is developing, but each time she decides against it, too afraid he’ll say something she doesn’t want to hear.

Mysaria smiles as she sees them snuggled together in front of the TV, when she comes home. “You’re here so often, we’ll have to start charging you rent,” She says playfully.

Aemond pulls out his phone, bringing up his banking app. “How much?” He asks, deadly serious.

“Aemond, she was joking!” She laughs, swatting his arm playfully.

It’s been a slow Saturday morning, almost midday and she sits at the kitchen table, a satisfied ache between her legs, as she sips at a coffee while Aemond plates up eggs benedict for them both. One of the things that surprises her most about him is that he’s able to cook, and he does it well.

She eyes him carefully as she pokes at her breakfast, unable to shift the feeling of how his fingers dug into her flesh, how he gazed at her so reverently, his lips featherlight against her throat just an hour before.

His money, his lavish lifestyle, she wants none of it. She just wants him, so she decides that this time she’ll be brave and shoot her shot before she has the opportunity to second guess herself.

Carefully, she sets down her cutlery and rests her chin against her hand. “So I’ve been thinking…about us.”

Aemond pauses, fixing her with his right eye.

Nerves flutter in her belly at his silence, but she continues anyway. “What we have, let’s make a proper go of it? I don’t care about your money, Aemond, I just want to be with you.”

He clears his throat, setting down his own knife and fork, before slowly wiping his mouth on a napkin. “I can’t do that,” He says quietly.

She is immediately struck by the hollowness in her chest, sucking in a harsh breath to ground herself against the lump forming in her throat.

Aemond reaches across the table, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re perfect,” He reassures her. “But I’m not, and I don’t do relationships. My circumstances are too complicated, I’d end up hurting you, and that’s the very last thing I want to do.”

She can’t argue with him, he’s being so bloody nice about it, and Aegon had warned her of this. She wants to scream at him, to cry, to tell him it isn’t fair, but it’s her that has asked for this, and at least he’s being honest with her, even if the truth does make her feel like her chest is being crushed under a vast weight. “I understand,” She chokes out.

“I’m sorry,” He says sadly, genuinely.

“Can you…can you just go, please?” She whispers, unable to look at him.

He nods, standing and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before leaving.

Only after she hears the front door click closed, and the feel of his lips have faded from her skin, does she allow herself to fall apart. Hot tears cascade down her cheeks, as she feels the presence that has taken up so much of her life leave behind a gaping void in its wake.

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fuxuannie · 6 months

Text

❥﹒a special kind of love

✦. synopsis — a relationship with dan heng can be a little rocky, but for him? you'd be willing to go through a landslide.

✦. love mail — im alive (i say for the 4th time only to disappear without a trace.. again) but this is inspired by my experience w someone v special to me!! happy 1 month ♡

✦. tags — HSR SPOILERS. noot really? i mean spoilers for dh's identity, dan heng x gn reader, fluff, i havent written for hsr in 6 years (dramatic), not proofread, im sick

"YOU'RE KIDDING!?"

You nearly topple over the trinkets on your desk when you had slammed the table prior to your screaming.

Moments before such a reaction, you had called Dan Heng into your room to discuss a 'private matter', in which you had to talk to him personally with no distractions.

'Private matter' being your feelings, and how bottling them up was making you lose your mind - so to save yourself the slowburn suffering, you had to confess the aching sensation in your chest every time he passed by.

"I, uh.. I like you." Your voice is almost a murmur, staring down at your desk that you stood behind with Dan Heng infront of it.

There's silence, he tilts his head slightly. "Sorry?"

You're about to repeat yourself, already regretting your decisions until you hear him clear his throat.

Looking up, you notice a hue of red on his face as he looks almost as shy as you, a rare sight from the usually nonchalant Dan Heng. "You.. like me?" He repeats for clarity, watching you nod as silence once more fills the room.

"Well.. I like you too. I'm surprised you beat me to the confession."

"...YOU'RE KIDDING!?"

And that lead to the unexpected relationship between the trailblazers who almost never interacted within the publics gaze.

You'll admit the first few weeks were.. awkward. You two didn't have much dating experience, especially Dan Heng, but you see how he tried. He'd always text you if you guys were seperated, you notice how he's much more clingy when you're around, and how he's clearly more comfortable with you than anyone else.

But you'd often times get him 'just because' gifts and letters, told him he was the person you adored most, and constantly reminded him how perfect he is. However, most of the time - especially in public, it still felt like you guys were more or less friends than anything else.

And because of that, there was a bit of overthinking that clouded your mind for a while. You of course, acknowledged that Dan Heng was not at all required to immediately reciprocate affection in the way you do.. but you simply wanted to be reassured that he felt the same way about you.

So on a rainy night, with Dan Hengs arms wrapped around your own frame as the sound of raindrops hitting your window keep you up.. well, not to mention the racing thoughts of insecurities, that played a part too. You looked up at your boyfriend, who was fast asleep with his beautiful and peaceful expression, which made you feel bad for choosing tonight to communicate your feelings.

"Dan Heng?" You whisper, lightly rubbing his arm to wake him. His messy hair is everywhere, so you first wait as he moves it away from his eyes to get a good view of you even in the dark. "..Hm?" He replied sleepily.

"..Do you.." Hesitation was evident, clutching the back of his shirt. "..Ever think I'm not good enough for you?"

Silence.

"Cause-" You sniffled, unable to escape the lump in your throat as you began to share your feelings. "I know I'm not that amazing. I'm not energetic and bright as March, I'm not strong and independent like Stelle, and I'm certainly nothing like you.. I don't get it. Why me? Why me when you could have anyone else?"

You waited for a reply, but you weren't expecting much. You knew he wasn't a talker, and that is something you learned to accept, but you didn't know how to feel about the chances of him responding with "I'm not sure what to respond." or something along those lines.

"(name)," He chuckled, pulling you closer as your tears soaked his shirt. "You don't have to be them, not March, not Stelle, and certainly not me. I fell inlove with you because you're you, and you're more than I've ever wanted in someone."

You didn't know how to respond, you wanted to talk more, but the rears were getting uncontrollable and Dan Hengs firm and comforting arms around you weren't helping your emotional state. So you cried, and cried, and through it all - he was awake till you'd stop crying. It was then you realized how much you really mattered to him, more than you could fathom.

He placed several small kisses onto your forehead,

"I love you, more than you know."

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr x reader

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melzula · 7 months

Note

ooooo! may i request a hc where waterbender beifong meets her dad?!

a/n: this has been in my drafts forever i am so sorry anon but hopefully you enjoy!

~based on these hc’s~

After countless arguments and packed bags and trips to Air Temple Island, you and your mother came to the agreement that you could seek out your father, if that was what you wanted, once you became an adult

When your eighteenth birthday comes and goes Lin assumes you’ve given up on your dream to meet your father and accepted the fact that the chances of finding the man were slim to none

Yet when she comes into your room one day to ask if you’d like to join her for lunch she finds your bags packed and your father’s portrait resting on your desk much to her dismay

“What the flameo is going on here?” She muses, doing her best to keep her annoyance at bay.

“You said when I was eighteen I could try to find my dad, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state matter of factly. “Kya’s going to be here soon to take me back to the south.”

“Kya?” Lin retorts. “Why Kya?”

“Well I figured I’d start my search in the South considering dad is from the water tribe, and if I don’t find anything there I’ll go to the north.”

“I think you should take Mako. I’d feel better if you did.”

“I’d rather not introduce my boyfriend to my dad on the same day I introduce myself to my dad,” you note with a slight laugh. “I’ll be okay, mom.”

“Alright,” Lin finally sighs. “You’re not a little girl anymore, I can’t tell you what to do. But be careful out there, I have no idea what your father has been up to all these years and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

She lets you go with an affectionate ruffle of your hair and a firm side hug— and by sneaking sweet buns into your bag when you aren’t looking— and a request of greetings for Kya before sending you off on your way

You’re anxious the entire time it takes you to reach the South, but with Kya’s comforting presence and helpful meditation sessions you’re able to stand the journey

You have nothing to go off of for your search other than the old outdated portrait your mother had kept of him, but you’re able to work with what you have

Kya doesn’t recognize the man, but she suggests asking the locals for information

You spend hours speaking to countless water tribe members asking if they know the man from the picture, but every time you come up empty handed

It’s frustrating and emotionally grueling work, and a part of you starts to wonder if all this effort is really worth it for a man you’ve never met

Would he even want to see you? You’d been alive for eighteen years and he never once thought to look for you. Did he even know you existed? Did he want to?

You’re so engrossed in your thoughts that you don’t notice the little girl that runs your way

She collides harshly into your legs, almost causing you to topple over into the snow, and though you immediately open your mouth with the intent to yell at her you bite your tongue at the sight of the child who can’t be any older than six

Her eyes are a beautiful blue and her hair is long and thick, but she shares your nose and your lips. It almost looks as if she could be related to you, and the realization fills you with dread and nausea

“Watch where you’re going,” you mutter harshly before quickly stomping off. Your original patience for her wears thin once you put the pieces together, and you feel sick to your stomach

She didn’t do anything wrong, you know that, but you can’t help the anger and the hurt and the resentment that begin to course through you

If your suspicions are correct, then it seems your father already has a daughter of his own

It was a mistake coming here, and as much as it killed you to admit it, Lin was right

You’re about to head back and search for Kya when a hand lands on your shoulder to stop you

Immediately you’re on the defensive, grabbing the person’s wrist and using all of your strength to yank them over your shoulder and throw them onto their back into the snow in front of you

“What do you want?!” You scowl only to immediately freeze at the sight of the man in front of you

Though he looks older than the picture with graying hair and wrinkes, there’s no denying the resemblance

“You’re a strong one aren’t you,” he says with a laugh to mask the groan that leaves him as he picks himself up off the ground

“I am so sorry, sir,” you splutter apologetically, “it was instinct and I-“

“Is this yours?” He interrupts you, holding out the photograph. Your stomach drops as your reach into your pocket and find that the picture is missing. You must have dropped it earlier when the little girl ran into you

You stand there, mouth agape and struggling to find the right words. Here is the man you’ve been wondering about all your life, but now that he’s right in front of you you have no idea what to do

“I… I’m holding it for a friend,” you lie, internally screaming at yourself for doing so

“I see. May I ask who that friend is?”

“…Lin Beifong. Do you know her?”

His eyes widen with recognition and a second emotion you can’t quite decipher, but it’s starting to make you regret ever speaking to him

“I do, though I haven’t heard that name in years.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not missing out on much,” you mumble quietly

“You know, you remind me of her,” he says much to your dismay. The last thing you want to be told is that you’re like your mother. Does he know that it’s because you are her daughter?

“I get that a lot.”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here. Do you have family here?”

“…No. I don’t.”

“Well, would you like to join my family and I for dinner? A friend of Lin’s is a friend of mine,” he offers warmly which surprises you. You were sure he hated your mother and wanted nothing to do with her. After all, according to her they didn’t exactly end on the best terms

You consider the offer, your eyes analyzing his kind features and friendly smile. But then your gaze drifts, and your sight lands on the little girl just a few feet away staring straight at you. She has your nose and your mouth. She has your father.

“Thank you, but I need to get going,” is all you say

And you don’t give him a chance to reply as you head back towards Kya’s home

This was a waste of time

#you guys might hate me for the ending #but i think it makes sense #lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong x daughter!reader #waterbender!beifong #the legend of korra #tlok #tlok x reader #tlok imagine #headcanons

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lightneverfades · 7 months

Text

Frostiron AU (Loki: Season 2) | What if Loki time-slips to a point in time when Tony is still alive?

Part I / Part II / Part III

This is an AU where Loki and Tony were both in a relationship before the whole 2012 events of Avengers (which caused a major schism in their relationship). This Loki never had a chance to apologise before he is brought to the TVA, then told of Tony's inevitable fixed fate in Avengers: End Game.

Mini fic below!

BEFORE

"Tony Stark sacrificed his life--," Mobius spoke, and the bearded man continued to speak about Tony's achievements and inevitable fate, but all Loki could hear were the last words he had uttered to Tony out of pure spite on the open balcony of Stark Tower.

"I never loved you, Stark. You were merely a tool to help me ascend to my true throne!"

It was all a lie, and yet that had been the single most effective lie he had ever said to Stark. The look of anguish that had contorted Tony's features had already been hard to watch, but the overlap of pain that had later dimmed the usual glimmer in Tony's eyes had been what left Loki feeling utterly broken and guilty inside. And yet, in spite of all that agony, Loki had gone along with the Chitauri's plans, their influence on him too strong to resist as he destroyed everything in his path and hurt the one person he held dear.

Stark... Loki thought as he gazed at the TVA recording room wall with an overwhelming sense of numbness, the cold seeping through his blood and within his bones.

I never got a chance to say goodbye.

And he never would, because the TVA had stolen that chance from him.

NOW

Ripped, torn, shredded and rebuilt in a few seconds was not an ordinary sensation one felt in a lifetime, and having experienced this more than once, Loki had assumed he was going to travel back and forth from the past to the present within the boundaries of the TVA. He had braced himself for the next one when he felt a particularly large set of invisible claws suddenly pierce his back, ensnaring him once more within its clutches as his feet slipped, his back tugged so forcefully that his head also snapped back, his body being swung and then pulled like a ragdoll. A small cry barely left his lips before his body was pushed right back onto solid ground, his impeccable balance the only thing keeping him from toppling over outright.

Loki barely had a chance to look around his surroundings and get his bearings before he heard a voice.

"Loki?"

Tony's voice echoed, and Loki's whole body froze on the spot as the dizziness subsided somewhat.

Loki tried to speak, but he couldn't as he found himself staring at Tony, utter shock stealing any words or thoughts that Loki had. He was alive. Tony Stark... was alive!

And just as quickly as his body was recovering from the pull of the time slip, Loki felt the awful tug grabbing ahold of his neck, an invisible assailant unwilling to let him go. Panic raced through his blood as he realized he was being pulled back, and taken away again. But damn if he was going to leave without saying anything.

"Stark, I'm sorry for everythi-!"

That was all Loki could manage before his voice crackled away like a broken speaker, a single tear slipping and then vaporizing into the air as his physical atoms were ripped and pulled in all directions.

#loki season 2 #frostiron #my graphics #my fic #loki #tony/loki #loki/tony #tony stark #what if: fandom au #what if loki series

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azurevi · 1 year

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in a crowd of thousands

aka a collection of ideas for my childhood friends to lovers leona au / aka my headcanons of the entire life of leona kingscholar. jeez

note: am i dumping all my ideas for this au here because they’re too disorganised and messy that i can’t work out anything but i don’t want to just let them go to waste? yes i am. this au has been tormenting me for weeks but my brain just can’t figure how to seamlessly plan it so chances are i’m gonna put it away. it’s not like i laid awake in bed till 4am because i was thinking about it last night anyways lololololol

i did actually write a bit for this au, which you can find at the end of all the points, but it is unedited and was done before the tamashina-mina event so it’s definitely not perfect. i would be happy if it was readable-

this idea dump is 5.8k (god bless), and the attached work is around 4k? so yea

The story starts when Leona is 8, begrudgingly attending Farena’s coming of age ceremony. Everyone is cheering and celebrating the beloved first prince’s birthday, all the while Leona sulks in the carriage, feeling the acidic jealousy rot in his stomach. He’s never received a celebration this grand in his name before, and he’s certainly never worn something some extravagant, even on his own birthday.

Just as he’s fighting his urge not to jump off of the royal carriage, he’s approached by an eager kid who, judging by appearance, can’t be older than him. they’re putting their short legs to use by chasing the carriage, a bouquet of fresh flowers secure in their grip. Leona thinks at first that it’s yet another present for Farena, but they’re calling for him instead, asking that he take the flowers. So he does, reaching all the way out of the carriage to grab the gift, earning surprised and distraught yells from the guards.

By the time he’s seated and looks back again, they’ve already disappeared in the sea of people.

Leona’s never received anything like this before. People only ever compliment and offer gifts to Farena, fuzzing over his bubbly personality and applauding the grace he presents himself with. Even back when they were faced with their mother’s death from a deadly illness, he was still praised for upholding his dignity and composure, while Leona stood at his side, mourning the death of one of the only people who truly cared about him.

So naturally Leona’s curious about the nameless admirer. And what better way to meet them than to order flowers from each and every florist’s shop in Sunset Savannah to see if they’ll show up for the delivery? It’s a long shot, one that depends entirely on the assumption that they even work at a flower shop and didn’t just buy the bouquet somewhere else. But he’s willing to bet on his luck.

So days passed, Leona’s made like twenty or so orders and his room is filled with foliage, from small pots of plants to tall wide leaves. Kifaji is honestly a bit confused by this, and a lot of guards are saying that he’s throwing an unreasonable tantrum. But never-mind them, because he eventually gets what he wants.

So on a fine early afternoon another delivery comes. This time it’s a whole cart filled with blooms of different colors. Sort of looks like a whole bush has been moved onto it. It’s so huge that he can’t see the person rolling the cart, but then he lolls his head to the side and spots those familiar eyes, the ones he’s been wondering about when he’s wide awake at midnight.

And guess what? They’re excited to see him too. So much so that they topple over and cause the entire cart to fall forward. The bush cascades onto him like a waterfall, but luckily the cart doesn’t crash him, but instead fall backward with a loud CRASH. Kifaji almost has a heart attack at that.

At Leona’s command the retainers and chamberlains leave him alone with the kid, and they get to know each other, like where the kid’s from, why they gave him the flowers etc. Turns out they wanted to thank him for the clothes donation he did for the poor kids living near Elephant’s Legacy a while back then.

Leona doesn’t have the heart to tell them that the donation wasn’t his idea, that he only said ‘whatever’ when the tailor suggested that he gave the ill-fitting outfits to kids in need.

Wanting to spend more time with his new ‘admirer’, he ditches class and sneaks them all around the palace, showing them things that have their eye’s sparkling in awe, but especially his personal achievements. They’re amazed by all of it: where people states that his interest in chess is somewhat boring (even though it’s just because he’s not as energetic and sociable as his brother), they think that it’s cool and smart. Even though he doesn’t like painting as his brother and father do, they don’t judge him for it, but instead agree that spending time in the library reading ancient books is more worthwhile.

Then they move on to talk about magic. Leona is obviously proficient, but they on the other hand actually don’t possess it. At least not yet. So they’re like ‘omg you have a unique magic already can you show me’ and that’s when Leona hesitates. He has endless ways to impress them, but his unique magic has always been something that others frown upon. It’s destructive, it’s messy, and it’s not beautiful. But you insist anyways, and young Leona decides, what the hell, screw it.

And to his surprise, they’re not a bit terrified. Quite the contrary, as you goes off on a tangent talking about how it could come in handy in so many situations.

And that’s the start of a precious friendship! Leona decides to order flowers regularly from their shop alone, and they get to know each other a lot better from there onward.

Years pass and they’re basically besties now. The young florist visits at least once a week, and the second prince is always more cheery and energised when they’re hanging out.

He tells them all about his life, how his mother had been sick for as long as he could remember and how her death took a toll on him. How Kifaji is pretty much the only chamberlain that doesn’t talk behind his back. How the others do it all the time just because Farena shines far brighter than he does.

The florist talks behind their backs as revenge, and it makes him feel just a bit better. And proud too.

It’s great knowing that someone cares and appreciates him. It makes him want to keep trying.

Similarly they let him into their life. They show them where they live, which is somewhere near the border between the bustling city and the neglected neighbourhoods, the poorer villages that fail to catch up with the Sunrise City and other major cities’ developments. Due to the country’s insistence to uphold the ‘coexistence with nature’ mission, little progress is resulted in those areas, and the disparity is beginning to look like a wide canyon.

Having lived in the palace for most of his life, this is the first time Leona learns of the parts of Sunset Savannah that the royals don’t talk about.

And as a result of the slow, almost stagnant growth of these places, infrastructures are nearly unaccessible. Even if people get sick (and they get sick quite a lot) they don’t get much medical support, at least not nearby.

One of the victims is the florist’s mother— and this is entirely the reason why they need to be working at such a young age. She’s been ill for a long time and is bed-ridden for the better part of a day, so they have to support the family. There is little medicine they can get their hands on, and even if they do get something, nothing really works.

With such a important mission on their shoulder, they’ve never really considered what they wanted to be in the future. The immediate goal was to have their mother get better, and to keep the family business going.

Looking at the ghastly lives of the people is sort of a reality check for Leona. And that’s when he begins to feel an ambition grow inside him.

He wants to change things, because no one in the palace seems to care about the people who are suffering so long as they’re out of sight.

The first time he raises the idea with his father, the king does take his words into consideration, but ultimately decides that it’s more important to preserve the country’s culture. Plus the councillors / politicians etc don’t agree with his views anyways, claiming that he’s too young to understand that ‘some sacrifices have to be made’.

Which is absurd, because he’s looking right at one of the sacrifices right now, and it’s their most important friend, who’s forced to provide for their family all on his own.

Leona doesn’t give up. He goes on learning more about the country he lives in, spends a little more time away from the glorious Sunrise City, and comes up with plans to improve Sunset Savanna. They’re not perfect, most of them are not totally feasible, but at least he’s doing something. Even Kifaji gives him his own opinions at times, unlike the other chamberlains who dislike that he’s trying to upend how the country’s always been operated.

All the while the florist gives him all the support he needs. Even when it feels like the majority of the world is against him at times, with them by his side, he feels invincible, like he can really change the world if he wants to.

Them making flower crowns for him as he works on his projects… that’s it. That’s the image.

Leona is maybe around 14, 15. His father falls ill (why is everyone sick in this story…) and there is a dire need of a new ruler to watch over the country in his hopefully momentary absence.

A king. Leona’s spent his whole life looking at one, and though he’s far from a mature adult, he tries his hand at politics anyways, hoping that he at least has a shot at becoming one in the near future. But everyone has already had their pick, and it’s none other than Farena. Farena, who rejects Leona’s ideals like everyone else.

“It’s simply too complicated”, he says, but Leona doesn’t see how hard it can be to take a new path.

But he’s still trying, at least for his dear friend. His dear friend, who’s been sticking with him through all the doubts and rejections. His dear friend, who’s promised time after time that they’ll never leave him or turn their back to him. His dear friend, who is there for some of the worst nights he has, comforting him as he winds down from nightmares. His dear friends, who always smells like a walking garden. His dear friend, whom he inevitably falls for.

At the same time, a romance is blooming somewhere else in the palace. Farena has fallen in love with Malaika, and after perhaps a few years of dating on the down low, they are ready to get married. And obviously this is good news. People see this as another indication that Farena will be a great king, seeing as he’s already had so much planned before him.

It’s like they don’t even plan to give Leona a chance.

But as always, his friend somehow sees the better side of things as they always do, telling him not to lose all hope yet.

Sometimes it feels like they’re the only person keeping him going. Would be. sad if they were to. Leave him. (clear throat) Anyways.

In the meanwhile, he decides to take advantage of the wedding. Perhaps the passionate atmosphere can assist him in his own romantic endeavours. Though it’s usually unusual and almost unorthodox for a commoner to attend a royal wedding, they get a pass since Kifaji assigns them to help with the decorations.

And it kind of does. He gets to dance with them, though the music is way too quick for him to really soak in the moment. He gets to see up close how there are stars in their eyes as they watch the bride and groom exchange their vows. Eventually, during dinner, he becomes annoyed by the other guests’ heartless questions about his life and sneaks away with his friend. It ends with a few guards hot on their tails, and in a moment of fight or flight, they dart into one of the empty rooms to hide.

Which just so happens to be the throne room. There’s no one around to berate him anyways, so Leona decides to stride towards the throne and take a seat on the gilded surface, overseeing the now vacant room. There seems to be power infused in this simple throne; the power he needs to make a change in the world, to make the ignorant listen to not just him, but also the demands of the people.

As if that’s not enough, they move to his side and jokingly calls him ‘your majesty’ and his heart does a whole somersault. Even though it’s just for a moment, he feels like he has everything he needs in his hand: the person he loves, and the throne that he so deserves.

And really, he could’ve just told them his feelings there and now, but he’s so caught up in the moment that he decides to postpone it. He’ll have the opportunity to do it in the future anyways. He’s certain that they’ll stay with him till the end of time.

When the invitation letter from NRC comes, Leona doesn’t bat an eye. There’s nothing the school can teach him that he hasn’t already mastered. Plus he’d rather stay here with his friend than go somewhere else all on his own.

Not to mention he’s busy trying to persuade those in power to agree with his vision about rebranding the country, which has been largely unsuccessful. Farena has been busy attending to other matters, and though Malaika sees where Leona’s coming from, she too is burdened by her share of responsibilities.

Time after time the officials have described his ideas as foolish, irresponsible, unreasonable, as if they still see him as an incapable child. Meanwhile it seems like they go along with everything Farena does, even if it jeopardises the livelihood of those under poverty line. All the while his friend's mother withers away. Watching the impending death looms over them places a knife in his chest. He doesn’t want to see them grief like he did when his mother left.

Leona can’t help but feel frustrated. Years of hard work hasn’t led him anywhere. As a kid he was more often frowned upon than not, but now that he was a teenager he still hasn’t gained the respect he deserves. Projects after projects are banned, to the point where the council members groan every time he shows up to their meetings. His ambition starts to dwindle. It feels like he’s trapped in the same tunnel with no hope of escaping.

Well, except when he’s with the only person who understands him. Even when they’re spending most of their time taking care of their mother now, he still derives strength from the occasional letters exchanged between them. (i loveeeee letters i love epistolary fics)

The pent-up frustration eventually leads him to do something rash: he challenges Farena for the position of Sunset Savanna’s ruler. To anyone else, it sounds like an absurd comedy. Leona— 16 and still growing— is challenging Farena, who not only is a decade older but also has more experiences than he does in managing a country.

I feel like challenges to the throne can go two ways; either they settle this with a physical fight or a peaceful voting. Obviously the former is going to hurt a lot more but I feel like it’ll be more impactful…

So say the rules require them to settle this with a fight. Which now that I think about would be more reasonable because there’s no way Leona will get enough votes anyways. So under a stormy night (for dramatic effects) the two brothers have an inevitable clash, and this isn’t just for the title of king.

It’s also the anguish Leona feels from living in Farena’s shadow all these years. His anger at the unattainable standard he has created for him. His jealousy at all the love that’s been thrown his way, all the attention their father has given him. But also the sadness from having him as a brother, from the lack of connection between them. It’s never really Farena’s fault, more like since the day Leona realized why the guards were more concerned with a paper cut on Farena’s hand than half of his room dissolved into sand, a crack formed in their relationship, and it only grew larger until it’s an impossible canyon.

The ending is written in stone. The guards and Malaika watch on, the spectators sparse and few. They’d rather not have the people know about such dispute within the royal family. The rain washes away the beads of red on the ground, but not the bruises on each of them’s flesh, and certainly not the gaping wounds in their hearts. Even as Leona is pushed to the corner, he doesn’t let himself stay down, his aching legs and sore arms be damned. And with him not admitting defeat, Farena can’t end the fight.

In the end, it is Kifaji who pulls him away before he’s injured beyond recognition, but even then he thrashes and attempts to push him away. “Let go of me”, “I’m not losing”. The words scratch his throat as he yells. Finally, Kifaji lets go of his arm, his face twisted in hurt.

“Tone it down, my prince! You’re being difficult!” It hurts him as much as it does Leona, but he goes on, “There’s no point.”

It feels like yet another inescapable twist. Kifaji, who’s always given him the silent approval. Kifaji, who treats him to sautéed mutton every time he’s faced with defeat. Kifaji, whom he trusts with his life. It turns out that he’s just like everyone else.

That day, it’s not just his relationship with Farena that shatters, but also the bond he shared with Kifaji.

Allowing no one near him, Kifaji has no choice but to visit his only friend. They rush with him back to the palace upon hearing about everything that’s happened, and feels their heart lurch uncomfortably at the sight of Leona’s battered state.

With utmost precision, they clean and bandage his wounds like how they wrap papers around bunches of flowers. The silence stretches, as if the moment it’s broken, the tears welling in their eyes will fall uncontrollably.

And so neither of them speak a word. Once they’re done with throwing away the bloodied towels, Leona lets his head loll onto their shoulder. Even in their presence it feels like his heart is hardening into a rock, one that upon being crushed, will never be recovered again. The night embraces them; two souls beaten down by life, robbed of their hopes and dreams.

Leona will never admit it, but that night, he holds their hand like it’s his only lifeline.

In the end, the thing that stomps on his aspirations is but a little child.

Cheka is what Malaika and Farena decide to call him. The young, adorable son of the king (in all but name anyways), who is also a promise that Leona shall never get the throne.

It’s… devastating. His steely, cold eyes are fixed unblinkingly on the snoring infant in his arms. Cheka had been crying non-stop in the middle of the night, craving his mother’s embrace, but Malaika is caught up in a meeting. As it turns out, funnily enough, he only goes quiet when he’s shoved into Leona’s arms.

Leona wills himself to feel hatred, to feel spite, but nothing comes out but for a single tear that rolls down his face. The only thing eating him up inside is pity for himself.

He feels lost. For the longest time he’s felt like he’s playing on the losing team, like the game’s rigged, but to think that the definite indication of his defeat is a young child?

The walls of the palace close in on him. Any second now they’ll come crashing down. Would anyone notice if he’s buried under debris? Probably not. The beloathed second prince, the disappointment in everyone’s eyes.

Is there any point in trying?

As hopelessness engulfs him, his only hope is to call for the only person left in his life who would still back him up. After all, they’ve promised time after time that they wouldn’t give up on them both. Hours tick by; he paces in his room, feeling every hair on his skin. There seems to be a predator in the corner of his room, looming over him, waiting to catch him in a moment of weakness.

He waits, and waits some more. When the guard returns empty-handed, he goes there by himself.

When was the last time they met? Right. Last month, when Leona asked the royal healer to gauge the cause of their mother’s illness. Dread overcomes him as he nears the shabby shop. Paired with the crumbling depression he’s been feeling the whole day, he won’t be surprised if the ground under him caves in swallows him whole.

It’s empty. The wooden sign says ‘closed’. There’s no light from the second floor, where they live. The flowers in front of the shop has withered. It looks vacant, deserted. Coincidentally, that’s also how Leona feels.

They’re just … gone. No one has idea where they’ve gone to; all of their neighbours claim that they just disappeared one day, like they were taken by the wind. Leona sends out anyone who’s not caught up in caring for the newborn prince to look for them, but to no avail. He has no idea what has happened to them, or whether they’re even still— alive.

The thought makes him sick to the stomach.

He waits for days. Weeks. Then he realises that he’s truly alone. For the first time in his life, there’s no one left in his life who know him.

Call it impulse, call it his mind playing tricks. He doesn’t have it in him to think about reason anyways. All he knows is that the longer he stays in this cage of a palace, he’ll suffocate.

A fortnight later, he digs out the crumbled, forgotten invitation letter from his drawer, and leaves for the college far away from his homeland.

Three or four years of school. That’s quite enough to make someone become a bitter, cynical person. That’s where Leona finds himself anyways, lazing his time away at NRC. He doesn’t technically like it here— too many people, too noisy— but it’s better than being stuck in the palace, forced to come face to face with the fact that he’s born with the short end of the stick.

Classes are largely meaningless. He doesn’t have to listen to a single lecture to get full marks in tests and exams. Leading his dorm and the Magift club doesn’t give him as much satisfaction as he initially expected. Most days it feels meaningless to do anything, but it doesn’t kill him. Whatever sadness or problems that come his way can be solved by a nap. If they persist, then two naps. Eventuality they will leave him alone; there isn’t much point in trying anyways.

Why the botanical garden? Well, it’s just a personal choice of his. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that the mix of flowers and grass reminds him of a softer, better time. Not that he will ever admit it. If anyone asks him why he knows so much about botany, floriculture and all that, he can just brush it off by saying that he’s spent too much time in the garden.

He doesn’t really miss anything. Or anyone. This life he’s leading is not ideal, but, again, it’s just enough to get by.

At least he’s not totally lonely. There’s always someone bothering him, like Ruggie right now, who’s berating him for being late for the preparation of the entrance ceremony.

The corridor is packed with new, curious faces. Most of them seem to recognize the lion beastman and stay out of his way smartly. As he lazily trails behind Ruggie, he hears a bit of commotion coming from just around the corner. Gasps and cusses, and also muttered apologies.

It’s probably nothing, he thinks to himself as he turns— only to come face to face with a stack of books higher than him. It looms over him, threatening to fall directly on his head.

(is this… deja vu?)

Moments before he can feel the impact, Ruggie yells, “Laugh with me!” and manages to balance whoever’s holding the books. “Come on, Leona! We’re already late!”

As he clicks his tongue in annoyance and walks past the faceless student, he hears them mutter a thanks under their breath. It sounds- awfully familiar. Familiar enough to make him swivel around sharply, gaze drilling holes in their back.

“Leona!”

Damn it. He shakes the thought away and follows the hyena instead.

The little encounter gets forgotten in the back of his mind as he prepares to welcome a new group of dorm members. The newbies stand in a crooked queue, turning around and talking to the strangers around them. Some of them are adjusting their robes, the others fidgeting nervously. Whispers fly, most of them speculations of whichever dorm the speakers are about to be sorted in.

It doesn’t surprise him that most his new dorm members look to be physically advantaged. He wouldn’t want it other way; it helps raise his chances of victory in the next Magift tournament.

As he’s about to drift off into dreamland, he hears the next name being called. A name that he hasn’t spoken in years, a name that he’s been trying to bury in his memories.

There’s no mishearing it— his eyes are wide open now, landing on the hooded figure in front of the mirror. Their face is obscured, but then they give their own name to the mirror, and that’s when Leona knows for sure that’s it’s them.

He couldn’t put to words what was happening in his head. Happiness? Surprise? Confusion? An amalgamation of emotions blur within him. He holds his breath, waiting for the announcement of the dorm. What’s it gonna be? No, how even are they here? Have they somehow figured out magic? Where have they even been?

“The shape of thy soul belongs to… Savanaclaw."

Well, he'll be damned.

Immediately after hearing that, their head shoots up, eyes landing on the tall and muscled group of students. For some reasons he cannot fathom, he turns his face to the side, concealing himself. Is it because he's unready to confront a face from the past? Is it because he's hung up on the fact that they left him without a word?

No, it feels more like shame. He isn't sure if he wants to be seen by them in this state. Not yet.

He remains quiet during the trip back to the dorm. Ruggie shoots him a confused glance as he's supposed to give a short speech to welcome the first-year students, but he lets it slide.

Even as he's standing in the very front of the queue, he can make out that distinct flowery scent if he tries. Years of memories come crashing on him, so sudden that he finds himself at a loss of words as he leaves Ruggie to assign the rooms.

He knows there's no point in hiding when he's literally the dorm leader, but the thoughts within him are too much of a whirlwind. Even when he's time after time fantasized about meeting them again, this feels way too sudden. He needs time to untangle his feelings. Maybe then he'll have the guts to face them.

This plan goes down the drain in the end. He hates feeling like a coward, but what he hates even more is that they are literally in the same building as him, and he's knocking himself away. Propelled by nothing but a racing heart, he gets out of bed and down the hallways, coming to a stop in front of a room that he hopes is correct.

He knocks.

Seconds pass. No one seems to be answering. Just as he's about to give up and return to his room, the door is swung open, and in the doorway stands the person that's been weaving in and out of his dreams.

Time has been good to them. Their features have become more defined, and they are holding themselves up with more confidence now. Leona freezes right there like an awkward statue, mouth agape. Words fail him. What is he supposed to say anyways, except that he's missed them?

After a beat, recognition dawns on their face. The beam on their lips is so beautiful it could light up the whole building. They all but throw themselves at them, and Leona stumbles backward from the strength.

What is he to do but to wrap his ams around them as well? It feels like he's back in the palace again, only this time without any sourness coating his tongue.

So they finally get to talk about everything that's happened in the past years. It turns out that one night their mother got dangerously close to the edge of death, and in a moment of bone-chilling fear, they woke up the neighbourhood doctor for help. As usual, he couldn't do anything, but at the sight of their distraught tears, he advised that the two of them go away to this other country, where developments in technology and medicine were more advanced. With no time to waste, he helped them sneak onto the last late night ride out of Sunset Savanna and to the foreign land.

It turned out that there was indeed a possible cure for their mother, but the follow-up treatment was a long, taxing journey. They found a place to stay in, and it took six months for her situation to finally stabalize. By the time they had the time and money to return, Leona was already long gone. All they knew was that he'd gone to a prestigious school for magic users.

With the responsibility to support the family and continue the family business off their back, they could do whatever they want. And, as can be seen, they chose to pick up a few books from the local library and teach themselves magic, all so that they could meet Leona again.

At this, he is once again rendered speechless. All this time they've been giving their all just to get to him, and what has he been doing? Letting time slip through his fingers like sand? Suddenly he feels very, very small standing in front of them.

But as always, they don't push him away even after all this. Because they know the Leona who's buried under all these layesr: the Leona who's unafraid to speak up for his beliefs, the Leona who looks out for those around him, the Leona who never gives up no matter what. They're sure that he can pick himself up again.

And perhaps, with their hand securely in his once more, he can really try again.

I feel that it's a bit obvious that the ending is a bit rushed, even though it's supposed to be the 'to lovers' part in the 'childhood friends to lovers' equation. The truth is that my ideas only reached as far as the point where Leona goes to NRC, so the rest I just came up with on the spot. Not to mention this is just roughly how I imagine the au would go, so there may be plot holes. That being said, here are some other ways the ending could go:

They don't get back together right away, but instead they slowly approach each other again, tip-toeing around each other the whole time. Perhaps they meet when his friend is visiting the botanical garden, because of course they would. Leona is distancing himself a bit cause he doesn't want them to see how he's turned out. But they eventually get familiar with each other again.

Similarly they don't confront each other immediately, but this time Leona's overblot does happen and they show up to stop it. I feel like they'd be disappointed at his ourburst and him using underhanded methods to secure victory, but give them a few scenes and they'll work it out together and Leona will see his faults.

And now onto a little reflection about this au of mine... it's such a precious brainchild of mine I want to cradle it in my arms until it eventually grows up to be an actual fic. But regretfully I have neither the time nor energy to plot everything out, only scattered ideas as you can see. There are quite a lot of things I want to develop in the story:

obviously the relationship between leona and his childhood friend

relationship between leona and kifaji

leona and farena

leona and his parents

leona's backstory, specifically how he became who he is today

the theme of trying again and again

the theme of mutual support in a relationship

Juggling all of these and attempting to expand them to each their full potential have been a challenge. There are also other things that stand in the way, such as how to portray Leona in a young age. Personally I have almost zero recollection of my childhood so I can't help but struggle with balancing the helplessness he feels and the naive hope every child possesses.

But all of those aside, at least I'm putting this au out in the world. Maybe one day I'll get around to making it a real thing :) I hope y'all have enjoyed this mess of an au as much as I do!

If you're interested in the stuff that I came up with for this au weeks ago, it is linked below. JUST A HEADS UP: it's unedited and written before the recent event, so there could be inaccuracies. I also don't like how I've made Leona too bitter for a 8 year old. But feel free to read it and give me a few feedback!

google docs

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #sie writes #leona x reader

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yikesharringrove · 8 months

Text

This is based off something that happens nearly every day in my place of work.

“Steve!” Heather hissed from her corner desk. “H.D. is out there!”

Steve stood up from his stool quickly, nearly sending it toppling to the ground. He raced around the tables in the room, settling near Heather’s desk and looking out the window. Robin had followed his steps, looking out from behind him.

“What in hell are you two on about?” She asked.

“Hot Dad.” Steve pointed out the window, at the man he and Heather has christened Hot Dad last year.

The preschool parents always grouped up outside the secondary entrance near the end of the day, waiting from their little ones to come out from the lower level preschool classrooms. And there, every single day, was Hot Dad, picking up his littlest girl, waiting for the older two from the main elementary.

Robin sighed, slinking back to her desk. The Special Ed classroom had an excellent view of the parking lot, and meant Heather and Steve had ample opportunity to stare at Hot Dad.

Today, was an especially good day. He was wearing shorts.

As in, short short

The gray athletic material was riding up on his thick thighs, a pink sparkly backpack slung over one shoulder, his hand in his daughter’s.

His three girls were nearly the spitting image of him, long, curly blond hair. Giant blue eyes that always crinkled up with chubby-cheeked smiles.

Steve had only interacted with him a handful of times, when he had opened up the car door to let the kids out of the back during the morning drop-off rush. He always said hello to Hot Dad, wishing him a good day as Hot Dad called to his girls, telling them he loves them.

“Why is it kinda extra hot that he’s a girl dad?” Steve said to a Heather, staring intently at H.D.

“I don’t know, but I get what you mean. And I mean, three girls is a lot for one man.” She sighed. “Do you think he reads them bedtime stories?”

“Oh, definitely. And I bet he does voices for all the little characters.”

“And he probably plays whatever they want.”

“Yeah, and I bet he’s all about making sure they’re tough. I’ll bet he wrestles around with them and wants to teach them how to fix cars and shit.”

Steve and Heather sighed, embarrassingly, at the same moment.

“Jesus, you two,” Robin chimed in. “Can you two go somewhere else to be this gross about a father at our school?”

“Nope! Not when it’s Hot Dad. Listen, you know I don’t want kids of my own, but a for Hot Dad, I’ll be a step mom. For sure.” Heather grinned at Robins wrenching sound. “I mean, they won’t have to call me Mom, but the youngest is only four, so it may be natural to her!”

Steve cackled, gently pushing Heather.

Steve returned to his desk, trying to ge Hot Dad out of his mind. He really needed to focus, and finish these accommodation letters to send out to the teachers, and he needed to-

“Hargrove.”

“What?” Steve turned to Robin. She turned her laptop around, one of Hot Dad’s precious daughters on the screen.

“His name is Hargrove. Billy, I’m assuming.” She turned the screen back towards herself. “And, he’s the only person listed as a parent for all three girls. They’re emergency contacts are listed as Father, Aunt, and Grandmother. Nothing maternal to speak of.”

Steve’s eyes lit up.

“What do you think are the chances he’s in to men? Because like, I’m not a classroom teacher. I don’t even have any of his kids in the program, so it wouldn’t be weird.”

Robin rolled her eyes at him, returning to whatever she was typing on her computer before the HD distraction.

“Yeah, because that would be weird. Yelling about how hot he is in front of an open window, that’s normal. But teaching his kids? Too far.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at her.

And then her words settled in.

“The window’s open?”

#yeah there’s a big ol slab of beef that we call hd (hot dad) and he’s so hot and he had these little hoochie shorts on today #and we talked about him for nearly twenty minutes #he’s soooooo hot #anyway #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes writes

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bg-brainrot · 3 months

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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 7: Before Chasing Ketheric Thorm

Chapter 7: Before Chasing Ketheric Thorm

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, developing relationship, impending doom

WC: 1.9k words, 7/18 chapters

Summary: Rogue!Tav is feeling the stress of Moonrise Towers, meanwhile Astarion has realized how nice cuddling is.

Ao3 | [Hug6][Hug8] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

You're aching in quite possibly every muscle in your body, bruises cover your skin, and you can’t recall another time you’ve been this thoroughly exhausted. That's why, when your resident, equally-tired, cleric suggested that the group take a rest before jumping into the lair of the Absolute, you took her suggestion to heart.

"This may be our last chance to rest for a while," she cautioned, staring down at the deep, red abyss below.

You didn't need to hear another word before nodding and turning to Jaheira to ask, "Have your Harpers found any unoccupied floors we could take?"

She led you and your group to the floor of a tower not far from the yawning chasm Ketheric retreated into. The eerie chill in the air persisted, but the place was better than nothing, so you gratefully settled in and made camp.

Now, here you are, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, drinking a health potion, and staring at a crack in the floor, as if you can peer through it to the danger below. The camp is cramped and you can hear all of your companions bustle around you, physically and mentally preparing for the horrors to come. You tune them out as you contemplate your situation, how did I end up in this mess? Come tomorrow, will we finally be rid of the Absolute? What in the Nine Hells even is the Absolute?

You may have spent the rest of the night in a dangerous cocktail of self-pity and frustration, but before long a pair of arms drapes over your shoulders, a chin comes to rest on your head.

“Darling,” Astarion’s voice has an endearing whine to it. “Are you really going to sit here moping the rest of the night? While your poor, sad lover is cold and in need of a cuddle?”

Unphased, you tilt your head up to look at him, only to be met with a set of round, sparkling eyes. “You’re always cold,” you retort, but your resolve is weak in the face of his pleading look.

“I know, all the more reason I could use a hot-blooded hero to warm me up,” he says, all but toppling onto you as he leans onto you more, like a cat vying for a spot of sunlight.

An involuntary grunt leaves your body as you fold over, and you think one of your ribs might be bruised. Astarion immediately releases you, leaning back on his heels to sit on the ground behind you.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You suppress a wince before turning to face him. “I’m okay, nothing a good night’s rest won’t fix.” Something about your act is clearly unconvincing, because he only responds with a furrowed brow. “Okay fine, nothing a good ol’ health potion won’t fix. I’ll finish it before the night is done.” You wave the bottle and its red contents slosh in response.

Astarion seems to remain unconvinced, pressing his lips into a straight line. “Is that just your excuse to not cuddle with me?” His words are teasing, but a very real fear is underlying them.

In your tired state and turbulent state of mind, you miss the fear. “If you’re really that cold, I have an extra blanket,” you offer, a misguided attempt to be helpful. His face falls and realization hits you a second too late to stop the hurt in his eyes.

“I’ll survive,” he says curtly, moving to stand up.

Your hand reaches out to grab his wrist before he can get far, and he stumbles back onto the ground. Words start spewing out of you, your mouth urgently trying to undo what it's just said, “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to make sure you stayed warm. It’s no excuse, but I have a lot on my mind so I’m sorry that–”

“No, I’m sorry,” he says, his gaze fixated on your hand on his wrist. After a second of silence, he brings his eyes up, they dart between yours nervously. “Am I being too clingy?”

“No!” you reply, the word coming out in panicked shout. You’ve been making slow and steady progress to try to learn and establish his boundaries, and one tired, injured night can’t be allowed to ruin it. You continue at a reasonable volume, “You’re not. I would love to cuddle.” Downing the rest of your potion in one fell swoop, you scoot closer to him to show your enthusiasm.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, darling,” he says, bravado back in place, as if he hadn’t been wearing his undead heart on his sleeve a moment before. It hurts a little knowing that he needs the facade, but if it helps him navigate your relationship, you’re happy to accommodate. Besides, he’s working to differentiate between the Astarion he is when he’s only with you and the Astarion he is when others can hear. He leans in and follows up with a whispered, “Being cold was just an excuse you know.”

“Oh really?” you whisper back in fake-shock, closing the distance between you both with one final scoot. Your shoulders touch, and you sit side-by-side in the center of this makeshift camp.

One of his arms wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, tucking your head toward him as he whispers a reply, “Yes, I actually just wanted to hold you for a bit. You know, before we jump to our doom.”

“Here I was just worrying, when we could have been sitting like this,” you say, wistfully. “I knew you were the smart one.”

He laughs into your hair, the sound echoes a bit through the room. The rest of your team looks over, though none comment on the mid-camp pile you’ve turned into. “It’s difficult to have brains and beauty, but someone on this team needs to bear that burden,” he says, loudly enough that most, if not all, of your group would be able to hear. You hear a snicker from Karlach and a groan from Gale, both otherwise are left blissfully alone.

You elbow him lightly, before wrapping an arm around his torso. Astarion squeezes you to him a bit tighter and places a feather-light kiss on your head. A comfortable silence settles over you as you both stare at the same crack in the floor you were enthralled with before. You break the silence with one of your musings, “What do you think we’ll find down there?”

“Death, destruction, that sort of thing,” he says, jokingly. You huff next to him and he kisses your head again. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

“How do you know?” you ask, bristling a bit at his ability to stay calm whilst you’re left plagued with doubts.

You can feel him shrug and his unused hand comes to rest on your face. He tilts your head toward him and away from the mesmerizing depths below. “I think if you’d ever met yourself you would understand.”

Your face heats under his gaze, his clear assuredness in you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve only ever faced known creatures. The Absolute is distinctly unknown.” You know you sound pathetic, whiny. Somehow you know he won’t judge you for it.

Astarion holds your head a bit firmer in his hand, staring at you intently with his red eyes. “As long as we can stab it, I know you can kill it.”

“And if we can’t stab it?”

He frowns at that, as if he hadn’t considered this to be a possibility. “In that case, we may well be fucked.” Despite his words, he trills a laugh and his tone is downright cheery. You’re all at once reminded that this freedom, even with death looming on the horizon, is worth it all for him. That there are fates far worse than death waiting for your group– all you can do is make use of the time you have together.

You lean into his palm, the coolness of his skin grounding you to him. “Thank you, love.”

“For what?” he asks, confused. “I think you may have misheard me–”

Shaking your head into his hand, you interrupt. “No, I heard you. I think you’re just wiser than you give yourself credit for.”

“I’m beautiful, smart, and wise?” Astarion lolls his head back, drinking in your praise. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but please don’t stop.”

You roll your eyes at him, and duck away from his hand, placing your head on his shoulder in defeat. “There’s too much praise to be said, please let me rest.”

“Oh alright, my dear,” he says with a sigh. “There will be plenty more time for you to sing my acclaim after you lead us to victory tomorrow.”

His words fill you with a building warmth that goes beyond where your bodies touch. At first because of his belief in you, infallible and frightening. Then you think beyond that to what may happen come tomorrow, when you’ve dealt with the source of the Absolute once and for all. Will you be sitting in each others’ arms just like this? Will you be able to finally free him from Cazador and maybe even figure out your relationship outside of this mad dash for salvation? The idea of it excites you, and you sit with that thought for a long time, breathing in Astarion’s scent all the while.

Perhaps your breathing gets too steady or you’re silent for a tad too long, because the vampire stirs you after a bit. “Darling, are you awake?”

You shake your head, ignoring his question. You’re mostly awake, but too comfortable to budge.

“It’s getting late, love. Best get to rest. I don’t want you to fall asleep in front of our mortal enemies and embarrass me,” he chides.

You chuckle into his chest at the mental image, but lift your head all the same. “I promise not to embarrass you in front of our foes,” you swear solemnly. Then, a bit sheepishly, “Thank you, your shoulder was quite… restful.”

“Well, thank you for warming me up,” he responds. With a lighthearted laugh, he continues, “You’re like a person-sized heater.”

You smile at him, and preface your next statement carefully. “No pressure at all, love– But I hear having a heater in your bed at night can help with aches and pains. If you have anything that ails you ahead of tomorrow, I would be happy to warm up your bedroll.”

Astarion looks at you with a smirk and you know he understands your intent is innocent. “Trying to get into my bedroll before a life or death situation, I see. Who am I to deny my love?”

Once you’re ready for bed, he tugs you into his tent after him. Something about the warmth that lingers on his palm brings a silly little smile to your face.

You’ve stayed in his tent on occasion, yet there’s something extra snug about it tonight. Perhaps it’s because Astarion’s already warm from your body heat or the sturdy stone walls of the tower keep you insulated, but you’ve never felt more cozy. You fall asleep in his arms easily, each of your worries about the monsters below melting away with each breath of his that grazes your skin.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

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am-i-interrupting · 2 months

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Walk Home | Vox x Alastor’s Child— OATSH

Summary: A certain TV show host comes to your book signing and stays for a while after.

“Thank you so much for the support,” you said as a young woman clutched her now signed book to her chest and walked away.

You looked up at who was next in line, ready to begin the same bullshit you’d done for the last hour and a half but stopped as you saw a familiar show host.

“Any chance I could get this signed?” he asked with a smug smile as you stared at him.

“Of course,” you told him. He handed you the book and you put your pen to the interior. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I’d like to get to know you,” he replied.

“Oh? And stalking me is going to get you good favor?” you asked.

“It’s not stalking if it’s public knowledge.”

“Mmm hm. I suppose that may be true.”

“Suppose? Well, I had hoped you’d say you agreed but maybe if not to that then maybe you’d agree to meeting me later this evening?”

You snapped the book shut, eyes staring into his. You extended your arm slowly, carefully, precisely to hold his attention. He leaned a bit forward to get closer to you as he took it.

“Perhaps you’ll have to stick around and find out,” you told him in a whisper.

“I think I will,” he said before walking away.

You quickly shook yourself as you turned to address the next person in line.

When the time came where everyone packed their bags, you were ready to go. Not necessarily home. You’d been sitting for hours. You wanted to move. Just standing felt like such a big relief.

You stretched your hands above your head as you began walking towards the exit. Close to the wall, leaning against it was the show host. He kicked himself upright and opened the door for you.

“So, do I have the honor of accompanying you tonight?” he asked.

“On one condition,” you told him, “you understand that I’m not looking to hand myself over to an active duty man tonight or most nights to be frank.”

“I hadn’t been under the assumption you were,” he said.

“Good because I’ve had far too many men make that mistake before. It’s why I enjoy fairer company,” you said.

“I’d imagine it gets tiring,” he said.

“It does. Now, have you been to the Pandemonium?”

“I. . .” He blinked several times. “Yes, once.”

“Good, because I need to get buzzed at the least and ideally go for a loop ‘round the bender to forgot the bore that was today,” you told him. You looked over and saw his brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing, you are just so surprising,” he said. “You’re, and I don’t mean any offense, not what you appear like.”

“Well, that’s the thing about appearances, they’re just that an appearance. This is all for show,” you said with a gesture towards your clothing. “I was raised by a serial killer and call girls, I’m far from decent.”

“I wouldn’t call you indecent company,” he said.

You rolled your eyes.

The rest of the walk and for the rest of the night the two of you made small talk. He asked you questions. You gave half truths. You asked him questioned and were given what you believed to be the same.

“You’ve had more to drink than me,” he said, words more than a bit slurred. “How are you not absolutely sloshed?”

A smile spread across your face, “I’ve got that New Orleans blood in me, honey.”

“Honey,” he repeated. “I like the way you say that.”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” you said.

You began to pull your wallet out but he batted your hand away without touching. He pulled out his own instead and put some money on the bar as he stood up, leaning on the counter.

“Let me walk you home,” you told him.

“Oh? You’re walking me home now?” he asked.

“Only because you’re staggering instead of strutting,” you told him. “Now, where do you live?”

He gave you the directions and you followed him, making sure he didn’t topple on the way. Some confusion as to where he kept his spare key happened before you were able to unlock the door.

“Come in, won’t you?”

You looked out of the corner of your eye at his neighbors’ house, the porch lights on. “I’ll have to decline.”

“The neighbors don’t talk,” he said. “Even if they did, what more could they say than what a lucky man I am to have such a beautiful woman in my home?”

“You can’t know that,” you told him.

“They’ve never talked before,” he said. “Besides, we won’t do anything, just talk. I enjoy your company.”

“They don’t know that,” you replied. “Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

You laughed to yourself. “You are far past—“ you dared to reach a finger out to poke at his forehead; he nearly tipped backwards—“tipsy.”

You reached for the doorknob and closed the door. Then you spun around and began making your way back to your hotel. There was liquor still on your lips and bit of a sashay to your hips as you walked through the dim streets.

You collapsed on the mattress still riding the combined trip of alcohol and good company.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #one author two show hosts

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justanotherblogger · 3 months

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Random Rambles And Theories About Alastor Go!

Ok, so right now I am on a high with all the recent Alastor lore we've been blessed with in Hazbin Hotel, and this little murderer has been occupying my mind 24/7. I really need to get all my theories and rambles out that I don't see a lot of people talking about.

(BTW, before my ramble, I have seen many places say he was mixed race as a human, but if I am wrong, please let me know, because this delves deep into that with his human life.)

(Also be warned for a bit of gore/violence and that this thing is kind of long)

Now let's begin!

I'll start with the most talked about theory with Alastor: his connections with Lilith and why he reacted the way he did with Lucifer

The show has given us what many people think are hints to this with both of them gone for 7 years, the slight eye twitch in the pilot when he looked at liliths portrait, Alastor showing up right after Charlie finished voicmailing her mom also in the pilot, how he knew about Charlie's Daddy Issues before she seemed to have told anyone, the leash comment from Husker, and how Alastor reacted to Lucifer.

Now, all of these could be chalked up to Alastor having some sort of nice relations to Lilith, but some of these are a bit too far stretched to just be because he has interacted nicely with Lilith in my eyes.

I have seen many people talk about how Alastor must have gotten a bad impression of Lucifer because either him and Lilith are besties and talk crap about him after the split, or he listened to her complaints about him and got an impression off of that to dislike him this much right off the bat in episode 5.

But I don't think that's it. We see how badly Alastor reacted to the leash comment by Husker, which definitely isn't a good sign that he would even trust the words of whoever is holding that 'leash' against him. He seemed pushed over the edge, vulnerable enough to lash out, which is unlike himself. Whatever deal he made for his soul, was most likely under threat, a life or death choice.

This is why I think he despises (most likely) Lilith or whoever has that 'leash' on him. He lashes out, sensitive about the subject. After gaining so much power over the overlords, he suddenly gets toppled over again by someone of (most likely) higher status, being forced into an unwilling contract, now just another pawn that this demon(?) can use for their own desires, and he doesn't want to be that, he needs to make his own decisions. But he doesn't have any say in the matter.

So I think why he was mocking and teasing Lucifer so much was because of his connection with Lilith. Everyone knew how deeply in love they were (before they split) and how they are both the most powerful demons in hell. I think Alastor took a chance to use his pent up anger on Lucifer, trying to get him to hurt as much as he can because of what Lilith did, all the while Lucifer cant do anything too serious leat he upset Charlie. We know he is extremely petty, after all. (we can also see him (most likely) letting off some steam when devouring the loan sharks, with him getting unnecessarily big and just letting loose on a couple of low-tier goons)

I saw another person talk about how Alastor has no power over Lucifer/Lilith, no political power, and he can't beat them in games of wits either. But the one thing that he does have the upper hand on, is their daughter, and I completely agree with that.

Alastor has been there since the beginning, has helped Charlie out and talked with her more than her own Parents had in the last couple of years probably. He's seen how attached the parents are to Charlie, and decided to use that info in full force. Just look at the Lucifer/Alastor duet.

Now that we have my theories of the life and death contract with Lilith, let's go deep into what I think is Alastors character right now:

Alastor, a mixed child in the early 1900's most likely had it really rough. With being treated as less than from both sides for being to dark/light to the violence that he most likely had to endure during his childhood.

This could have been where his anger/obsessive resentment started to simmer up in sporadic bursts over the years and years of belittlement, abuse, and racism.

Like I said before, he was probably treated as less than human for his mixed skin, and Alastor most likely started to hate it. His skin, the people, everything seemed so wrong. Why should the people who beat him and his mother see them so vulnerable and weak. He decided he didn't like that anymore.

So the radio show started. I got this idea from when he said his face was only made for radio. Over the radio, no one ever knew what you looked like. Just your voice would be broadcasted, and no one would ever see who was really behind the microphone unless they stepped out. This seemed like a barrier to Alastor. Letting himself go with no worries about letting people see him vulnerable behind his broadcast. (Maybe that's why he hates TV and modern tech so much; people can see everything about you)

And when his radio show became a hit and people wanted pictures and news? What would protect him then? Simple: his unwavering smile. Reactions are what people want when they crush others. They want to see them wallow and beg cry from what they have done. But Alastor won't let anyone do that to him ever again.

He stands his guard, not letting any comments get to him, keeping charming smile and unwavering voice all throughout his career as a radio host. Keep the smile up, dont have your voice crack, never show weakness. If you stop, those that wait will sink their teeth in and never let go of you. That's what I think a part of his mentality is and is maybe a part of why his smile is stitched on in his demonic form.

Now onto why I think he's a serial killer/cannibal. Remember when I said he had lots of unchecked anger and obsessive resentment? All this now simmering even more while being pushed down by his persona?

This is when he'll break loose.

He usually goes for the ones with the least amount of defense: drunkards/ bar frequenters. I though of this when Mimzy said he used to always come to the bar she was performing at and how he could drink like a sailor.

He might've drank with people to let their guard down in addition to his non-threatening charm, and he probably built a tolerance to be at least a bit sober when the others are full out drunk so he can easily transport and kill them.

He probably enjoys killing/eating his victims because a) it shows how he has power now. How he isn't a helpless victim anymore and he's finally in control of his life or b) where he likes seeing privileged people beaten and bruised for once, the gratification of seeing someone taste their own medicine by his own hand, like revenge, even if that person hadn't been necessarily bad towards him.

His death ro me is the same that everyone else thinks, where he's burying some victims body and gets mistaken for a deer, then shot straight between the eyes. What I do think a bit differently is that he was chased by hunting dogs first, which alerted the hunter for him to get shot, which then led to his fear of dogs.

Then he was finally free to do anything. Hell had no limits, he didn't have to hide his carnage anymore. But now that smile he wore was engraved into his face, almost making it impossible to frown. But that didn't matter. Not right now. Alastor has so many emotions bubbling up that he just wanted blood to be on his hands.

And then he slaughtered the overlords and took their souls within weeks ( maybe months, idk how quick he killed them, but ima go with weeks), broadcasting it over the radio to show everyone what he's been up to.

Alastor had kept this routine for a couple of decades, occasionally getting a guest star on his broadcast by those who he seems fit.

But maybe he had become too cocky with this power high, as he had been attacked by holy weaponry right before the extermination he dealth with most of them, but a shot did make it into his shoulder, causing him to collapse in pain, unable to move. (a bit simple, but I imagine him getting badly hurt by angels/angelic weaponry to lethal levels and Lilith decides to save him)

He fought hard when the angels arrived, of course, but he could only go so far in being this injured. So when he was about to get stabbed in the chest by a holy spear, he was already tired and almost accepted his fate, before being pulled somewhere by Lilith herself.

This is where Lilith offers a beat and broken Alastor a one time deal: become her servant or she'll throw him back to the exterminators herself. And in a situation like this, there's usually only one option you can really take.

And so he was a ghost, leaving everything he had behind. His power, his respect, his freedom...

Now Alastor had become a pawn again. A tool useful for the right situations, and just a toy to be played with by Lilith. This is exactly what he didn't want from his human life. The humility, the disregard, treating him as some sort of street animal, no matter what he did.

And now she orders him to guard her daughters hotel, giving him back a piece of his power to protect the hotel.

Alastor had hated Charlie for how she misused her amazing power for something like redemption.

Alastor hated Lucifer, for having all that power, being the strongest demon in hell, yet taking it for granted while mocking him about his choices.

And Alastor hated Lilith, for trapping him again, and renewing his endless cycle of suffering.

So those are my thoughts about Alastor. I think you can tell he's my favorite. I just love his powers and lore.

#alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel thoughts #Im literally feral for this crazy deer guy #asexual #is Alastor Ace or AroAce in canon?#idek anymore #lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel

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codenamesazanka · 25 days

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I might be delusional at this point, but i hope the bystander issue will be somehow addressed once shigaraki/tenko/whoever comes back. I feel like the jaku speech was such an important character moment that it has to be brought up again. saving the crying child might have only been the first step!

I'll be delusional with you, anon! There is indeed the fact that The Walk never showed up in the memories AFO showed Tenko/Shigaraki. And the problem wasn't just limited to Tenko - Hero Society did turn a blind eye to a lot of people and a lot of issues, and that pain is real.

But have this wild thought. What if the bystander issue is brought up again... but not quite in regards to Tenko?

So like. AFO is back and i know we all want him gone but—this is literally the last chance for the fact that HE WAS BORN AS A TRASH RIVER BABY BITTEN BY RATS to be addressed? That hey, people should've done something about that, back then, even when Heroes didn't exist yet.

I guess it would have to be Shigaraki who, as he's currently swallowed up by AFO, figures it out by seeing AFO's own memories and conveys it; and that's asking a lot of Shigaraki after what this guy did to him! ...But. Villains need a Hero of their own.

Endgames is a mess and a very smart friend told me before I shouldn't use logic. But Shigaraki has a pattern: Stain stabs him, but he learns from him anyways, used his name to continue to topple the status quo like they both wanted. Overhaul kills Magne, but Shigaraki preserved the bullets and even spared a thought to him at Jaku. ReDestro kidnapped Giran and tried to kill him and his League, but Shigaraki didn't kill him and included the MLA into his destruction plans.

Like, he no doubt would be glad to see AFO gone - kill the guy himself! - but point still stands. AFO fucks with his entire life... and Shigaraki aids in his defeat... but he thinks being a River Trash Rat Baby is pretty sad and unfair. So he demands the Heroes to address it. He wants to address it himself.

Villains need a hero of their own.

We know Shigaraki now has access to AFO's memories. AFO gave it to him to hurt him, sure, but the pathway is there. And right now he thinks Shigaraki is gone, so maybe Shigaraki is defused deep within him enough to go through any barriers between him and the memories. (However mindscape physics works, it made sense in my head, okay.)

This would be one way for the bystanders problem to come back to be addressed, should that ever be addressed 🙏🏼please🙏🏼begging horikoshi please🙏🏼. I had felt, after getting AFO's backstory, that AFO was a bit like Tenko during The Walk, but without the sympathy framing. But also just in general, like how AFO tried to recreate his own Hand trauma thing with Shigaraki. How AFO's motivation turned out to be 'intending on ruining every because he was ignored.' So they aren't as different in some of their feelings.

Finally, AFO's last thought before he rewound out of existence was that he wanted to be remembered by the world. Eyes on him, forever. He also wanted someone to just have cared about him, in a way. That's so sad, and should it be fulfilled (in that he's remembered as a cautionary tale), that's incredible kindness that he doesn't deserve... but that's what heroes do. They reach out and give some relief, even if the other person might not deserve or want it.

(or if you want, frame it as a fuck you to AFO. solve the problems of society, and you never need to worry about another AFO. forget AFO because that he and his tale becomes utterly irrelevant.)

This is far fetched. But here is one thought that's stuck with me.

Thanks for the ask!

#shigaraki tomura #All For One #bnha #mha #heroaca #anon #ask #asked #anonymous #answered #nalslastworkingbraincell

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thecampjuicebox · 5 months

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Imagine how frustrated Haarlep would be with themself if they legitimately fell for someone. I think that might be the only way to fluster the dirty fiend. Lust and passion and indulgence, they know how to deal with. But love and tenderness and even the smallest inkling of emotional intimacy? I imagine Haarlep wouldn't hate it, just hate that they don't know what to do with it.

I mean, just imagine Haarlep puzzling over someone complementing their wit and just enjoying their company. Imagine Haarlep reacting to receiving aftercare for probably the first time in a long while. Imagine Haarlep receiving a thoughtful gift (like maybe Haarlep off-handedly mentions wanting to pursue a hobby and they later find supplies needed for said hobby gifted to them) with no string attached or any expectation of paying back the gift-giver. I would eat that kind of stuff up as if I were starving.

Anyway, thank you! Sorry for the paragraphs! Rambling over! Bye!

OKAY WAIT

You are truly on to something here. Haarlep fluff is my weakness and I am so so so so so excited to write about it whenever I get the chance. Baby deserves some lovins too!!!! (Might do a few parts to this, but for now I think Tav giving Haarlep a lil bath after sex just sounds so sweet)

Inferno Pt. 1

Pairing: Haarlep (m) x Tav (gn)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 3rd person

Warnings: Fluff, angst, very light smut, mutual pining, trouble accepting genuine affection, slight game spoilers (this fits in a weird spot canonically)

Chests heave in the throws of passion, sweat and sex mixing into a scent cocktail of epic proportions. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, Tav and Haarlep ride the waves of their pleasure, completely enraptured by the sounds and heat between them. Frantic thrusts rattle the large bedframe holding the mattress up beneath them, Haarlep's wings creating a protective cocoon around their otherwise vulnerable bodies. It's become a normal occurrence, the two of them. Late nights. Early mornings. Enjoying each others' company and the animalistic fuck sessions they've grown so fond of. With Raphael constantly being busy after the fall of the absolute and Tav finding a new home in the House of Hope, Haarlep searched for newness. For "fresh meat to feast upon in trying times", as he put it originally.

Tongues wrestle for dominance in a display of conflicting power, Haarlep's hips quickening their pace to chase his end. Quiet grunts break through the warm air of the boudoir. Breaking their kiss, Haarlep takes a moment to stare down at Tav, a strange and unfamiliar warmth trickling through his limbs. Strange.. But almost comforting. Tav whispers sweet nothings into the cambion's perked up ears as they both finish and topple over the edge of ecstasy, Haarlep collapsing in his usual way against Tav's tired body. Trembling arms snake around Haarlep's torso as the two attempt to find oxygen once more, gentle fingers dancing along his spine, feeling the rise and fall of each vertebra and ridge on his hot skin. Now they lie there. Quiet. Enveloped in each other like lovers, a concept that is all too foreign to the Incubus. Love. Lust; Haarlep has known for centuries. But love.. Love is so new. So fresh, like a deep bite or the stab of a dagger. Sweet words and caring gestures typically feel like salt in the cuts. Not with Tav, however. Everything feels natural with Tav. Organic and gentle. As he relaxes into the being beneath him, his mind wanders. Their quiet breaths and the thumping of their heart nearly lulls him to sleep. A tired Tav slides their way out of Haarlep's grasp to move toward the bath, the sticky residue of sweat and spend coating their skin in an uncomfortably thick layer.

"Mm, care to join me, Haarlep? I hope it's still warm.. Hells, we're in the Hells.. Of course it's still warm."

Tav chuckles sweetly to themselves, their air of comedic cluelessness forcing Haarlep to crack a smile. The incubus lifts his head, eyes narrowing on the naked elf before him. A bath? How romantic. A shiver rumbles down Haarlep's spine at the thought and he stands, sauntering slowly toward the tub, fingers reaching out to wiggle into the eternally hot water.

"Wouldn't hurt, I suppose.."

The two settle their aching bodies into the water and Tav immediately moves closer to Haarlep, fingers searching the edge of the tub for a bar of soap and a rag. Haarlep's eyes flutter closed and he focuses on the warmth around him. The steam. The scents enveloping his senses. The gentle swish of the hot water as Tav moves about the tub. Why is Tav.. The soft brush of a soapy rag across his chest startles Haarlep from his rest, his hands moving out to quickly guard himself from the assumed intruder of his space. Panic creates a flurry in this chest, pupils blown wide. His wings spread out and fling water out of the sides of the large tub. Tav gasps loudly and takes a step back, teeth clasping down onto their bottom lip, hand barely keeping a firm grasp on the slippery bar of soap they'd used to lather the rag. A mixture of embarrassment and shame paints the saddest expression on their face and Haarlep's fluttering heart falls deep into his stomach.

"What in the Nine Hells were you just doing?"

"I was trying to.. Wash you.. I'm sorry, I-"

Regret settles itself into the crows feet at the corners of Haarlep's eyes. He frowns at the frightened elf, wings settling into the water now after their terrifying display just moments ago. Large hands reach out to Tav's wrists and tug them closer, the bar of soap slipping and falling into the tub, a small splash coating Tav's lashes in water. Haarlep chuckles. A sound Tav hasn't heard in such a genuine manner. Is he upset? Worrisome eyes lower to the rippling water between them. The reflection of Tav's face on the surface forces their eyes closed anxiously. The rag remains clutched tightly between both hands now, suds and bubbles slipping out through the cracks in their fingers and spilling into the water beside them in a mountain of sweet smelling foam.

"Well don't just stand there. Keep going."

Confusion bubbles up in Tav's throat but they oblige, approaching the sleepy cambion with the rag once more. Little swipes clean the mess from Haarlep's chest and he lets out a content sigh. He's never been taken care of this way. He's never been taken care of at all, as a matter of fact. The feeling is both comforting and so disgusting. He lies rigid now, lids blinking as he stares up at the ceiling, his hands carefully resting on Tav's hips to keep them steady in front of him. The rag moves carefully up his neck now. Gentle strokes swipe away the sweat from the night's previous activities. Pausing for a moment, Tav fumbles for the bar of soap. They huff in frustration as it slips comically out of their hands and back into the water multiple times, droplets of water landing all over Haarlep's chest, face, horns, and wings. He grins and swiftly reaches for the bar, sinking his claws into the slippery surface.

"Gotcha!"

Laughter erupts from the two occupants of the tub. Genuine laughter. Tav carefully takes the soap from the incubus's claws, rubbing the rag around its surface to create a soapy lather. Haarlep retrieves the bar once more and sets it on the side of the tub as a precaution, a grin from his previous laughing fit still lingering on his thin red lips. For a moment, all is okay. The normal rumbling in Haarlep's brain is calmed. Soothed, even. The rag moves along his cheeks to clean them off. Tav's free hand moves around the back of Haarlep's head to direct him to look at them.

"Don't want to get soap in your eyes.."

"Yes, that would burn like, well, Hell."

Another sweet giggle leaves Tav's throat and Haarlep could burst into flames right there, leaving nothing but a puddle of floating ash in the tub where he sat. He adores everything about Tav. Their smile, the shape of their body, their sweet voice. Their eyes, Gods, their eyes. Piercing and gentle, staring right through him. Reading him like a rare old Tome. Most importantly, their interest in him. Not his cock. Not what he has to offer in the sheets. Him. Haarlep's claws gently rake down Tav's sides, earning a shaky moan from the elf's parted lips. Their resolve falters for a moment before the rag makes its way toward Haarlep's wings, rubbing gentle circles around the cherry colored leather skin. Haarlep sighs happily, his tail subconsciously wrapping itself around Tav's plush thigh. The tip rubs against their sex, making their knees buckle beneath them. With a swift tug, Tav falls against Haarlep, his hands moving to the globes of their ass now to hold them tightly against his lap, one hand moving to adjust their legs to wrap around him. Their eyes meet, and it's like the room around them catches fire. Sparks, lightning, flames, all igniting at once. Haarlep's stomach turns.

The unfamiliar feeling rises up again. It burns in his belly. Snakes its way through his arms and legs. Tingles like Weave in his spinal cord. He clears his throat, pressing even further into Tav while his tail continues the slow back and forth friction against them. The sounds he earns from the specimen against him just fuels his fire and he sinks his teeth into the top of their shoulder, little rivulets of blood pooling in the indentations he left there. With a grin, he licks the broken flesh. Tav writhes in his arms in excitement, reaching their arms up to give Haarlep's horns a gentle tug backward, forcing his gaze to fall upon their needy expression. With a huff, the incubus licks his lips, eyebrows knitting together apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself.."

"You don't have to. Not with me.."

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #fic request #Haarlep #Haarlep x Tav #gn Tav #gn fic

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