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bunniesanddeer · 3 months

Text

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either.

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room.

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face.

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again).

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin.

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is).

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back.

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help.

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

#alastor x reader #fluff #light angst #radio demon #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #fanfic #short fic #Bun's short fics

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fairysluna · 5 months

Note

"look what you do to me" with ye olde cregan I BEG

worthy of you.

Cregan thinks his little brother is not worthy of a woman like you, which is why he takes the opportunity to show you that he is the one for you.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader / (Side) Masc!OC x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — smut (f!oral sex, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, OC is a terrible man, older!cregan, widower!cregan, age gap (early 20s and early 30s). If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — first of all, a big thank you to my gorgeous @bucknastysbabe for being my beta reader and helping me edit this, ily!! i got a bit inspired by this plot and it's longer than i expected💀

Thank you Bel for sending this request because i loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy it!!🤍

WORD COUNT — 4.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

How cruel were the gods when they put you in his brother's arms instead of the ones you craved the most.

The first time that Lord Stark laid his eyes upon you, he felt the air leaving his lungs, and his voice being caged inside his throat. His eyes immediately widened at the beautiful sight of you, bewitched by the way you so politely greeted him, and mesmerized by the way you uttered his name. Cregan was in awe, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut and the quickened pace of his heart as he smelled the sweet scent of vanilla coming from your hair. He wondered if you were some kind of nymph, effortlessly enchanting him with a single glance.

After the loss of his wife, few were the women who managed to catch his eye. A couple of balls were made, and they all resulted in the same thing; a group of ladies following him around, showering him with shallow compliments and words that he did not wish to hear.

How lucky he felt when he saw you walking in with your father, Lord Reed, into the ballroom, and how miserable he left that night after learning you were betrothed to his young brother; Edrik, a careless young man who —according to Lord Stark— is not worthy of you. At all. He's ruthless, the opposite of a chivalrous man. Cregan knows that while you were waiting for him for dinner, he's fucking some whores in brothels and paying with gold that he would steal from Cregan's chambers. He despised him. He was ashamed of him, and his behaviour towards you. You were a lady, a delicate and sweet girl who could have found someone better.

Someone like himself, he would think.

At that moment, while you were nervously chewing your nails sitting at the small table of your chambers as you drank tea, Cregan was out there searching for his younger brother, and trying to force him back to the Winterfell castle. That very same day was supposed to be your wedding, and the groom was nowhere to be seen. You knew better than to cry, you didn't want to suffer for him anymore; so you just sat there, slowly tapping your fingertips against the delicate porcelain of the cup, staring at the crackling fireplace and thinking about something else.

At that point, you were just begging for him to be alive and well. Nothing more.

A few minutes passed when you saw Cregan entering your chambers with his grey eyes staring intensely at you as he walked inside. His heavy boots stumped against the wooden floor, prompting you to stand up a bit too quickly. You noticed the pitiful look in his eyes when he noticed you were still wearing that white wedding dress; his heart shattered for you.

“Did you find him?” you dared to speak first. Somehow, your voice came out colder than both of you expected.

“We did,” he nodded. “He was in a brothel… drunk and enjoying his last hours of freedom, as he said.” The annoyed tone of his voice was quite clear to hear as he spat every single word with rage and even shame.

Gods forgive him for this insurmountable wrath towards his kin.

“Where is he now?” The question slipped out of your lips merely out of habit.

“In his chambers, being bathed by one of the maids,” Cregan explained, unable to bear the vision of your tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. He sought to look at a place over your shoulder, just to ease the ache in his chest.

It wasn't sadness, not at all. It was ire; he knew it. It was supposed to be your special day, and your betrothed decided to ruin it, though you were not surprised.

“Is it the maid that sucks his cock every morning? Or is it the one that let him fuck her in the arse?” you mockingly mentioned, lifting the cup of tea and sipping it slowly. The knot in your throat was becoming unbearable, too tight and barely letting you utter a word.

Cregan's eyes softened with sorrow. “My lady,” he started, daring to take a step closer to you. The small rounded table was the only thing keeping you two apart. “Allow me to apologize for the misbehaviour of my brother, you deserve the utmost respect from whoever is lucky enough to marry you. Edrik is childish, and his actions often bring shame to our family name.”

“You shall not apologize for your brother's mistakes,” you softly said, sighing tiredly at this situation repeating over and over again. “You're an honourable man, Lord Stark, it's a pity your brother is not even half of the man you are.”

Cregan felt his heart tapping against his chest, even under those thick layers of fur, he was still able to hear how fast it was beating. His eyes briefly looked away from you out of shyness, feeling so flustered by your mere presence. Oh, gods, this was excruciating; seeing you there with your beautiful eyes staring up at him, looking so fragile and bewitching. The white dress fit you perfectly, you were radiant that night, and he cursed at his brother for looking down on you.

Edrik was a dumb boy. Luckily, Cregan was a wise man.

“It pains me to know he doesn't appreciate you,” he muttered as he took unhurried steps closer to you. “You deserve so much more.”

“It's the best I can get, I suppose,” you shrugged. “At least my betrothed is indulging his uncontrollable lust with whores instead of forcing himself on me. It could be worse.”

“But it's not supposed to be bad at all,” Cregan discussed. “A husband has to provide for his wife, and treat her with respect.”

His hand approached your left cheek and he placed it there, cupping your face. Your soft skin felt his calloused fingers and suddenly all the air of your lungs vanished. Your lips parted, and that simple gesture blurred Cregan's mind with the urge to devour them. As he looked down at you, you could see in his eyes that there was a rare sparkle in them. It was so mesmerizing.

“I guess you're asking too much from your brother, my Lord.”

He scoffed.

“If only the gods had been more merciful of us, you would be my wife instead,” he mentioned with a wistful tone. He took another step, and now you were able to smell the pine scent from his clothes. “We probably would be in our private celebration by now.”

You sighed delightedly as his thumb went to your lower lip, lightly touching it as he glanced at it. Falling in love with him had been so easy; he was so kind, so courteous and gentle. Whenever his brother was cruel and mean to you, he was always there to make you feel good. Many were the times you imagined this wedding being with him instead of Edrik.

“I would be looking at your beautiful body as you remove this gown. Only for me to see,” he whispered, his touch going downwards until he grabbed the pearls around your neck. “I would take my time to appreciate every single inch of your skin, touching you… kissing you, making sure you know you're the most beautiful maiden in Westeros.”

His face leaned towards you, and you felt his nose rubbing against your cheek as you closed your eyes. His deep, low voice sent shivers down your spine while your mind was imagining every single word that came out of his plump lips. His touch reached down your sides until you felt his strong grip on your waist.

Cregan took a deep breath as he smelled your sweet perfume; he couldn't help but sigh.

“I would pleasure you in so many ways,” he continued, his voice so raspy it made your knees weak. “With my mouth, my hands… until all that comes from your lips is my name.”

“Cregan…” you breathed out, and he hummed in delight.

“Yes, just like that.”

You dared to open your eyes, meeting his and seeing how they were dilated and glazed with lust; yours were probably in the same state. You were able to feel the heat between your legs, almost causing you to squirm to make you feel something. Something to sate the intense desire crawling around your body.

“I would do so many things to you, my darling,” he murmured. “Would you like me to do them?”

You nodded.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you replied, embarrassingly fast.

His hands went to your back, calloused fingers finding their way to untie your gown. Your chest was against his, and the closeness did nothing but increase your desperation to have him.

“My brother doesn't deserve you, does he? He is just a stupid boy, and you deserve a man.” You felt the dress loosening around your body and you swallowed hard at the expectation. “Please, let me be that man for you…”

You were unable to bear it any longer, the temptation being too much. You closed the distance between you two at the same time he started to slip the dress down your body — until it pooled around your feet. His lips fit perfectly against yours, they were slightly chapped due to the cold, yet they felt heavenly. He moaned against your mouth when you boldly deepened the kiss by grabbing Cregan’s nape and pulling him closer to you, all while his hands pressed your lower back.

It was slow and passionate, taking your breath away as he claimed your mouth with his tongue, swirling against yours and stealing soft whimpers from you. Soon, he grabbed your thighs to lift you and sat you on the table; the cup of tea spilling to stain your white undergown, you couldn't care less. His lips on yours were all you could think of as his hands gripped your body, pressing you against him.

The thin skirt of your undergown lifted as you wrapped your legs around Cregan’s waist, and his hands began to sneak under it to touch the soft skin of your thighs. He left a heat on your body with his fingertips, one that made you desperate to feel him. All while his mouth was reluctant to leave yours, obsessed with the sweet taste of you. He would unconsciously groan, and as he pressed his hips against yours you could easily notice the effect you had on him.

He pulled away to take a look at you, he found your swollen lips glistening with remains of your and his drool. Your eyes were sparkling as stars and your breathing growing agitated. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Cregan Stark had fallen in love with you once again at that moment.

“You should belong to me instead,” he huskily said. “I should be the one who takes your body-”

“Do it,” you interrupted without doublethinking it. Your tone was decided and demanding, it shocked him a little.

“Oh, my little one…” he murmured with a strained voice as if the thought had left him breathless.

“I don't want your brother… I never did.” Your confession drew a small smile on his lips. “Since day one all I've wanted is you.”

He took a deep breath before cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Look what you do to me,” he murmured as you stared at his face, noticing a rare glow in him. “Believe me when I say your feelings are mutual… you've been on my mind ever since you arrived. It was torturous to see you being disregarded by Edrik while I was sitting there wishing I could just hold your hand. My heart, my body, my soul, it all aches for you. I'm desperate to feel you, and I cannot bear it any longer.”

The despair in his voice, so clear and vivid.

“Allow me to do it,” he pleaded, “I'm begging you to let me have a taste of you, at least for a night… so I can finally end this torment.”

“I will accept,” you managed to say in small gasps. “Only if you promise me this won't be the last time.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

The time was not wasted, you quickly leaned forward to kiss him again with the same intensity and need as before. Both of you moaned against each other while your hands were swiftly untying his snow-covered coat at the same time his were pulling down your undergown until it fell down your arms. Your breasts were freed and you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed; no man had seen you in such a vulnerable state before. However, all insecurities vanished from your overthinking mind once he laid his eyes on your chest and sighed, enamoured by the view.

He gave you a single glance at you to ask for your permission and, once you nodded, his fingers travelled down your body until they trapped your nipples. He gently squeezed them between his digits, soft enough to not cause you any discomfort but hard enough to make them peak. Your mouth was slightly parted, allowing silent gasps to fall down your lips as he admired your pure flesh. He leaned forward then, and you instinctively leaned back; before you noticed his tongue was lapping at one of your sensitive buds, swirling around it and nibbling on it from time to time. You held your body up with your forearms, closing your eyes once he sucked on it. A moan escaped you as he pulled apart from it and went to the other one, giving it the same attention.

His hand was grabbing the small of your back as you touched his hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks and pulling them whenever his tongue made you feel butterflies in your belly. It was so good, and you were blissful thinking that you were doing it with him. Your ever-kind and loving Lord of Winterfell.

Suddenly, his mouth traced a path down your body, licking and kissing your belly until he reached your pelvis. You lifted your hips once his hands started to pull down your last vestiges of coverage, and in mere seconds you were completely exposed to him as your cheeks got warm once again.

Your legs were spread by his hands on your inner thighs, and Cregan was able to see the mess in your core; you were soaking, and his mouth watered with the urge to taste you. For a few seconds, he was just there admiring you, and then he started to kiss your legs from your ankles, all the way to your hips, shamelessly marking you and leaving red bruises behind; you loved it.

Cregan gave you a quick look, noticing how you were almost shaking with expectation; your eyes reluctant to leave his frame as his thumb spread your swollen lower lips and exposed that little, throbbing button begging for his attention. He stuck out his tongue, slowly brushing it against your clit. You almost died there. Your hand immediately went back to his hair, pulling it a bit too harshly for his liking.

“Sh…” he cooed, kissing your inner thighs in the meantime. “Come on, little one, let me make you feel good, I know you want it.”

Gods, you did. You need it.

“Keep your legs open for me, and let me have my feast,” he murmured before his tongue lapped on your pearl again.

The way he teased your flesh so sensually made your limbs shake. You were gasping as he licked and kissed every single part of you, lurking around and trying to discover your most sensitive spot. Once he found it, you saw stars.

Your betrothed was far from your mind when Cregan dared to push one of his long, thick fingers inside your weeping hole. You cried out his name as your legs shook around his head and, as he curled up his fingers to rub your walls, you felt a knot in your belly starting to form and begging to be released. Goosebumps erupted over your stimulated body.

“Gods… Cregan!” you found yourself whining. He hummed delighted with the way his name sounded from your lips.

His tongue fervently began to flick your clit as he added another finger, pumping them slowly but deeply. The sound of your juices coating his digits was becoming addictive; so sinful, yet heavenly. He was desperate to feel you all.

As he moaned and whimpered against your soaked flesh, you couldn't help but feel an unknown sensation in your gut; as if you were about to explode. Your heart was beating incredibly fast as you leaned your head back and let your mouth spill thousands of obscene sounds; Cregan's cock twitched in his pants the moment he looked up at you.

Gods, you were so fucking beautiful. It was not fair that you belonged to someone else.

Suddenly, with a shout of shock, you felt yourself peak. You gasped loudly and you clenched your eyes shut. Cregan felt your walls squeezing his fingers so deliciously as he drank from you and licked you clean. By the end of it, you were sweating, breathing fast and your hips twitching. You turned into a quivering mess.

Cregan lifted his face, giving one wolfish look before quickly grabbing your cheeks. He desperately kissed you as he groaned in ecstasy. You tasted yourself on his lips as he picked you up and took you towards the bed… the very same bed you were supposed to be sharing with your betrothed that night.

The guilt hit you, briefly making you feel dirty and sullied. But then, as you saw Cregan slowly removing his attires, you remembered who was your betrothed, and what he was doing earlier that day. If he could fuck a whore, why couldn't you fuck another man? You doubted the lesser brother would even notice.

Besides, it wasn't just a man, it was Cregan. Your Cregan.

So, now, as the handsome man in front of you removed his last piece of clothing, you felt your walls clench around nothing as you glanced at his cock. His head furiously red, already leaking and twitching as he started to crawl from the bottom of the bed until he was between your legs. He kissed you again, this time slower… more tenderly. You sighed against his lips.

“You're still a maiden,” he said as a statement rather than a question. You nodded, either way, confirming his words. “Then I'll go slow… though I must warn you, it might hurt for a bit, but I promise you, little one, it'll all be worth it in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whispered as your hand reached his cheek, gently caressing his stubble.

“Open your legs for me, my darling,” he commanded, and you did as he said. He looked down at your entrance, “seven hells…” he groaned at the sight, before spitting down to his cock and stroking it a few times. Cregan swiped the ruddy tip of his prick against your folds, teasing them to hear you moan one more time before carefully pressing the blunt head against your entrance.

You cried out once he started to stretch you out, feeling the slight burn that left you breathless as he made his way inside the tight hole between your trembling legs. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth; Cregan noticed your discomfort, so he brought his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles on it and trying to make you relax. You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving through the pinch.

Your tightness would try to push him away as tried to go deeper, yet he found a way to keep going until he was fully buried inside of you, whimpering your name. Your soft walls felt so fucking good around him, almost making the man drool against your shoulder. His sweaty forehead was pressed against your cheek and you could hear his ragged breathing in your ear, causing chills down your spine. He gave you a moment to forget about the pain, all while he peppered your neck with soft kisses and gentle bites.

“I think I have just reached heaven,” he murmured, his voice sounding so deep and seductive. “So tight, so small around my cock…” he continued words that left his mouth before he could even think about them.

“I- I feel so full…” you muttered, feeling his length pulsing inside of you.

“Shh… I know, my darling, just take deep breaths for me,” he commanded you, and you obeyed. His thumb pushed slightly harder against your clit and you hummed. “Mhm, does that feel nice? My beautiful girl, you're doing such a good job for me,” he praised you, “taking me so well.”

“Feels good…” you nodded.

“It does, doesn't it?” he softly chuckled. “Gods, the way your sweet little pussy takes my cock makes me fucking crazy. Can- can I move? Fuck– Is it okay if I start moving?”

His gentleness and softness did little to make you forget about the way he spoke to you. His dirty words made you clench around his girth, feeling butterflies in your lower belly. You needed Cregan to move and bring back the effervescent heat.

“Please, do,” you begged, and he wasted no time in obeying.

His mouth dropped open as he dragged his cock out of your tightness, noticing how it was covered by your slickness. He pushed in again, filling you and causing you to moan in simultaneous discomfort and pleasure. His left hand went to your hip, grabbing your skin and going deeper inside of you. Slowly at first, he started to fasten his pace until the sound of your bodies colliding against each other was mixed with your moans.

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he hid his face on your neck, his harsh breathing causing chills on your skin as he moved slowly but forcefully; such a perfect pace to make you see stars. Your legs were bent at each side of his body, while he took you and claimed your shaky frame. Soon you realized that he had not lied, it felt magnificent once the pain started to fade away.

His name would escape your lips as if it was an endless chant, incentivizing him to keep going, to continue his movements until you couldn't bear it anymore. A layer of sweat would cover your body as Cregan's weight was on top of you, it felt as if you were burning yet you didn't want to push him away. You craved to feel his skin on you, loving the way his pelvis would brush against your throbbing clit each time he thrusts into you.

“Fuck, my darling,” he groaned in your ear, “your pussy was made for me to fuck,” he whimpered, biting your earlobe. You replied with a whine. “So fucking delicious, feeling so tight around my cock.”

Cregan lifted his face to look at your messy state. The eye contact that followed almost made you reach your peak once again, it was all so intense it made your head spin. Your nails dug into his flesh and he whispered your name; you hummed in response.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

He further quickened the pace, his cock now touching that sweet spot of yours. Your walls would clench around him as you felt the much-needed orgasm approaching. A ring of your juices appeared on his cock, and he changed positions so now he was on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking you faster, rougher.

He saw your breasts bouncing on your chest as he thrusted into you, the sight so arousing that he felt his cock twitch inside of you. His stones were full, ready to burst at any moment now. However, no matter how much he desired it, he knew he just couldn't release inside you. No risks must be taken if he wanted to do this again.

With your legs spreaded, his thumb effortlessly reached your exposed clits, flicking it and smearing your wetness around it. Your limbs shook as your mind went numb, and soon your orgasms washed over you. You cried out his name, tightening your grip around his cock.

That's when he pulled out and poured himself on your soaked flesh, staining your folds with his pearly seed.

Once he took a quick look at you, he felt a coil of raw pleasure snake around his body. A whine left his lips as he wrapped his hand around his length, stroking it a few times to make sure he would cover you with every single drop. He was overstimulated already; sweaty, breathless and flushed. He looked so beautiful like that.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, caressing your thighs.

You frown, slightly confused. “What- what for?”

Instead of answering you right away, he leaned and joined his lips with yours, gently and tenderly kissing you. His hands cupped your face and yours laid on his thick arms. A few minutes later, he pulled away only to leave soft kisses all over your face making you giggle.

“For giving me the honour of making you mine,” he replied. “Though I must confess that I don't think I will be able to live without having you in my bed every night.”

You felt a smile appearing on your lips and a familiar warmth on your cheeks.

“Well,” you sighed, “perhaps, you should do something about it.” That flirtatious tone was a bit odd coming from you, but Cregan loved it.

“Yes,” he nodded, softly chuckling as he leaned to kiss you once more. “I will definitely do something about it.”

@arcielee

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#cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark smut #hotd #house of the dragon #house stark #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #cregan stark fanfic

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chaiifluuf · 19 days

Text

Heart to heart — d. osamu

synopsis. seeing your boyfriend’s ex makes you question if you really are enough for him

content. fem!reader, ada!reader, hurt/comfort, has a made-up character

notes. a request written here ! @hyunorue, @walnutnut since you wanted to be tagged, i adjusted a few things but hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

“‘samu, we just had a lunch break..”

you mention softly as you let him lead you out of the agency office. of course dazai wants to ditch work with you once again despite all your efforts to make him do the opposite. often you don’t go along with his antics since you actually value the paperwork and don’t want to stress kunikida even further. unfortunately, today was one of those days where dazai wins.

“so? we were still working then and have every right to get a break now!” dazai tells you as if there is no problem with what he said. you raise an eyebrow and stare at him sceptically. “more like i was the one working, you just pouted and sat next to me because i wasn’t focusing on you.” you point out while both of you walk down the stairs.

“how cruel, bella! i did write on my report,” he says dramatically, holding his free hand to his chest when the other hand is still intertwined with yours. “i saw you add exactly five words.” you respond bluntly as you remember your gaze flickering to his laptop to see what he was doing from before. dazai gives you a fake offended look before opening the door for you to exit.

the cafe right below the agency was the go-to place to take a break or even have lunch. and today was no different. two of you sit down at one of the tables and order your usual. you still weren’t at ease though. “you know if kunikida happened to be at the office currently then we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

dazai hummed indifferently, taking your hand in his again as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of it. a warm smile tugged at his lips. “kunikida this and kunikida that but how about you relax? don’t worry, i’ll just—”

he abruptly stopped speaking when he looked behind you towards the entrance of the cafe, the sound of the doorbell ringing filling the space. you feel confused and decide to call his name, but to no avail. before you can even turn around a woman’s voice can be heard throughout the room.

“oh my god! is that you, dazai?” she gasps and you saw the way his body stiffened. almost right away you can tell something is wrong. the woman walks up to the table you were sitting at, an amused grin on her face. you can’t help but wonder who she is. dazai has never mentioned knowing other women besides you and some others at the agency. what is going on?

“why long time no see! you do remember me right?” she says to him with an upbeat tone, her gaze shifting to you afterwards. the moment she did you realised something. she looked pretty. stunning even, her golden wavy hair fitting so well with her hazel eyes. while her expression seemed friendly, as soon as she looked at you, you felt somewhat uncomfortable. you felt as if she judged your whole being right now.

“i do, yuna. what are you doing here?” dazai’s voice was much colder in comparison to talking to you earlier. okay so dazai does know her. then she has to be someone from his past. someone he has never told you about. perhaps a friend, a relative or a… oh.

yuna merely hums in response. “this cafe is a public place, no? just wanted to get a coffee but ran into you instead. how have you been?” she asks dazai, mostly ignoring you and it makes you feel like you’re not supposed to be here. your suspicions about who she is make this even worse.

dazai sighs rather heavily. “now is not the time. seriously.” it’s obvious that he is trying to get her to leave but yuna doesn’t seem to get the hint. “woah you’re so tense, i mean no harm…” she says with a softer tone despite the playful smile growing on her lips, calmly bringing her hand to dazai’s shoulder as if i wasn’t even there. it’s becoming harder to not get annoyed because who does she think she is?

your lips form into a thin line as you watch her get dangerously comfortable around him. you were about to give yuna a piece of your mind but dazai already got ahead of you. without hesitation, he pries her hand off his shoulder and she’s surprised by his action.

“yuna, this is your last warning. i need you to stop acting like we’re anything more than strangers and respectfully, get the fuck out of here.” he spoke with a stern tone and looked into her eyes the entire time. you’re definitely not used to seeing him get genuinely mad at someone.

small shock crosses her face and she seems taken aback by his sudden words. a moment of tense silence passes before yuna scoffs. “fine, be like that then. have fun with your new little girlfriend,” she says mockingly, her friendly tone long gone and you were not ready for the look she gave you. it was full of loathing and bitterness, like you were far beneath her.

and now you want to sink six feet underground. you hate how much she managed to affect you and you pray that she can’t tell from your expression. you shouldn’t even care what she thinks of you but assuming that she had some type of relationship with dazai before, you can’t help but feel out of place.

yuna finally leaves the place and dazai’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “i’m so sorry that you had to witness this,” he says with a sigh, “are you okay?” you can see it in his gaze that he is really apologetic and you don’t how to feel anymore. all of this could’ve been avoided if you just stayed at the agency.

“yeah, i’m fine. was that your ex?” you ask, ignoring the stirring emotions in your chest. dazai seems to think a little before answering. “not exactly. i haven’t talked to her in years now. i thought she moved away… but it doesn’t matter. let’s just focus on us, yeah?”

you still had so many questions but you simply nod and take a sip of your drink. a worried glint remains in his eyes but you decide to ignore it and act like you’re okay with everything that happened.

because you’re anything but okay.

yosano keeps giving you strange looks as you look through some files. you try to focus on work but the cafe incident won’t leave your mind no matter how hard you try. she can probably tell something is wrong. she’s a doctor after all.

“y/n, did something happen?” yosano speaks up calmly while she sits on her office chair. you shift your gaze from the paper to her and blink in surprise. “ah, no. why are you asking?” you respond, trying to seem clueless.

“you’ve been staring at the same page for over five minutes now and i know for a fact you’re not that slow of a reader. your thoughts are elsewhere.” okay maybe it was more obvious than you anticipated. you know there’s no use to denying her at this point. with a defeated sigh, you sit down on a chair near her desk.

“it’s kind of stupid.” you’re still a little hesitant about this because while you and her got along well, you haven’t opened up about your problems to her before. her face softens slightly as she leans back on her chair. “surely it’s not if it has you acting this odd.”

a minute of silence passes before you start talking. “well me and osamu went on a break to the cafe and then this woman appeared out of nowhere, someone who he knew in the past and…” you pause, gathering your words, “after a tense conversation she finally leaves us alone. even if she did try to look friendly at first, i could tell she did not like me.”

“so it was jealousy or something?” yosano guessed, listening intently and you sigh again in return. “i don’t know. i asked osamu about her too and i didn’t really get any answers,” you say as you think about it. why did he barely tell you anything? is he hiding something? god you’re starting to overthink again.

yosano notices your troubled expression and decides to slowly move a little closer to you with her chair. “listen, let me ask you this—how did he react when she started talking to him?” she asks while looking into your eyes.

“very irritated, in a way that I rarely see.” that’s true, there was a genuine glimpse of anger in his irises, it was surprising even to you. yosano nods and seems to think for a moment before speaking.

“do you trust him?”

you’re slightly caught off guard by the question. of course you trust him. through all the missions you have gone on with him, he always makes your safety the top priority and you know that you can trust him with your life.

without thinking twice you nod in response and a small smile appears on her face. “then i’m sure you don’t need to get too concerned. plus from what i’ve seen, he loves and cares about you more than anything else.” she tells you with a warm tone.

her words manage to somewhat ease you because she must be right. you love him dearly and he feels the same. and that’s what is important. yeah, you can’t forget that. you give yosano a grateful look. “you’re right, thank you.”

the confidence you had a few hours ago is long gone. you don’t know how long you have been sitting on your bedroom floor alone, stuck in your thoughts. you left the agency a while ago, telling dazai you were going to a case related place so he wouldn’t get suspicious. in reality you couldn’t understand yourself. why are you so upset? even yosano assured you that there’s no need to worry.

everything was fine before going to the cafe and having that encounter with her but it shouldn't matter because it’s plain to see that dazai doesn’t care about her nor like her anymore. it’s not like he’s cheating on you which you know he would never do. but you do wonder how they met, you wonder if they were actually together and on top of all, you wonder what happened between them.

because despite her cold behaviour, she was gorgeous to say the least. and maybe if you got along with her then she would have a nicer personality as well. honestly yuna seemed like everything you’re not. it makes you doubt yourself. just what does dazai see in you? you have heard his flowery and flattering comments more than you can count but what if he doesn’t mean them?

it’s such a silly thought but you can’t stop pondering over it. you’re so much in your head that you didn’t even notice to hear the soft creak of the door opening.

“love?”

your breath falters. you know that voice all too well. you can’t find it in yourself to answer, keeping your face buried in your arms as your knees are pressed to your chest. you hear him moving and you can tell he’s closer to you now.

“what’s wrong?” dazai asks gently and you can’t help but feel embarrassed since you are not sure how to answer. you wish you could act like you’re fine.

you stay quiet and after a moment he speaks up again. “yosano told me some stuff regarding you,” he says and now you really have no chance of hiding anything. it never crossed your mind that she might tell him. he knows why you are like this and you hate that.

“osamu, why are you with me?” your voice is more unstable than you would’ve liked. you raise your head and see that he’s sitting right beside you on the floor. his gaze goes softer and more concerned when you look at him. you then realise your cheeks are wet.

“why? because i love you of course,” he says so easily, a tender smile adorning his lips. you remain doubtful. “then will you tell me who she was? was yuna really not your ex?” you question him as you can feel your throat getting tighter, desperate for answers.

dazai’s smile fades and he lets out a quiet sigh. “me and her were friends with benefits at best. sometimes i could tell she wanted to be more than that but unbeknownst to her, i was aware of all the other boys she was hanging out with. we had an argument over it and i ended everything with her on the spot.”

you stare at him for a few seconds as you process his words. he is not lying, you can tell that much. you suck in a breath as your vision grows slightly blurry. “i just don’t get it. she was so pretty, osamu. out of all people you chose me when i’m barely anything in comparison to her. i—“ your voice cracks as you try to stop your tears. you have never seen yourself the way he does and at times it scares you because what if one day he will see you exactly like you see yourself?

you avoid his gaze and the fact he hasn’t said a single word makes you want to cry more. he brings his hand to your cheek and slowly guides you back to face him. what greeted you instead of pity was a warm smile and eyes full of fondness.

“my dear, are you hearing yourself right now? without any exaggeration, you’re the most breathtaking woman i have ever met inside and out. i would never love someone so much based off only their appearance. and do you know what makes you so precious?”

you sniffle as your gaze is connected to his. you can’t help but lean into his touch while his hand cradles the side of your face. “what.?” you ask.

“you make me feel human. you make life worth living and i couldn’t be happier to spend the rest of my days with you.” his tone is filled with tenderness and sincerity. it almost makes you question whether you’re dreaming but his touch wouldn’t feel so real and soothing in any of them.

and then you smile lightly. you really were overthinking it. as relief washes over you, your body moves on its own and your wrap around his waist, hugging him tightly. dazai returns the gesture and places a kiss on your head, softly rubbing your back. tears were still escaping your eyes but this time it wasn’t out of sadness.

he suddenly seems to remember something and whispers into your ear. “oh and there are some flowers waiting on the table for you.”

my writing is so weird in this i’m sorry (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

#𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ maeve writes . 🖋️#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x fem reader

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cl6udias · 3 months

Text

✷ drunk in love

cw: nsfw content, fem reader, mentions of piv, i dont speak great English so some words might be used wrong, etc.

over spring break you watched a few “videos” to get a better idea of what you and luke should be doing in bed because i mean neither of you are very experienced so you wanted to try some new things so when you got back to camp you suggested a new position to luke and he was more than happy to oblige.

it wasn't anything like super crazy though, just that your lower back was raised off the bed by your pretty pink pillows, allowing luke to cock to hit deeper.

his thrust were slow, caluclated, drawing little whimpers from you with each thrust. he was asking you something, however you have turned into a cock-drunk mess. his question struggling to resonate in your mind. all you could focus on was the rhythmic squeak of your bunk, the coil in you stomach threatening to break, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips already leaving bruises…

and then everything stilled. there was a foreign pressure on your lower abdomen. the sensation sending goosebumps throughout your body, your warm walls instantly clenching as your eyes shot open to be met with him already staring at you.

"that got your attention, huh baby?”

"luke...wha–" you could only let out a whine as he did it again, you clenched around him making him let out a choked moan.

"look," you did as you were told and followed your gaze down until you saw it. there was a small bump protruding from the skin of your tummy. your eyes widened as he thrusted his hips forward to demonstrate, his cock visibly moving inside you. "looks like my dicks about to break ya open” he chuckled.

he began to thrust his hips forward again, using his finger to trace the outline over your stomach, enchanted by the sight of his dick ramming into you. “lu-muph!”

“awh did i fuck my poor baby dumb?” he cooed as he pressed down on your stomach again and this time you saw stars, toes curling as your jaw dropped , you’ve never came so hard before. so i guess it was safe to say your little research helped.

authors note: again im sorry if the english is bad :) also tell me why i was helping my parents at their restaurant and one of the customers mocked my accent while i was taking their order and the thing is we live in hawaii and like you could tell they were tourists so like who has the audacity to mock someone who actually lives hear when you on our land which we dont even want you on like wtf (i have a spanish accent but still) also i saw something like this with this like idea but i think it was for nate jacobs (is that his name?!?)or something idk credits to them i guess

tag list: @alexandria-millie @pipravi4life

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut #percy jackson #charlie bushnell x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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cry4mina · 2 months

Text

BloodRedRoses

(Chaeyoung x fem!reader)

Word count: 4.1k

Angst/Smut

Summary: Best friends to ???

TW: weed, blood, sex, cheating, Sana?, mentions of Jihyo. I think that’s it.

A/N: hey hi hello! Happy Chae day (early edition!) pls enjoy! :)

*edit* my dumbass forgot to tag @nr1chaedickrider for the pics! 🖤

—

The couch is cold, leather against your face as you lay there numb, eyes freely releasing tears. Sniffling into the emptiness of your living room, reliving memories of you and your best friend’s last night of hanging out together.

—

“Chae! Let’s gooooo!” screaming from the edge of the sand. It’s 3 in the morning, humid as hell but she wanted to go to the beach. Her stress from her schedules made it hard for her to relax and you just wanted to see her smile.

God, her smile? She radiated diamonds when she giggled. Glowing and sparkling, refracting pure joy into everyone who saw it. It melted you instantly every time and she knew that.

Chaeyoung runs from your car, black sweatpants too big for her and your hoodie swallowing her whole, catching up to you and linking your arms together. Now she’s the one tugging you to the shoreline as you find your spot on the rundown lifeguard stand.

Studying the carvings of initials into the salt-soaked wood, taking your pocket knife out and getting to work on a new addition while Chae lights the joint carefully, taking a long drag and then passing it to you.

“Do you ever think about what the future holds?” exhaling the smoke as she stares into the waves from her seat on the rickety railing.

Joint hanging out of your mouth, looking up at her in awh, trying to actually hear what she just said. You were mesmerized by her, always.

“Y/n? You okay?” Glancing over to you with concern in her big brown eyes, knowing you had something to say and giving you the opportunity to speak your mind.

Panic flashes through you, pulling from the joint and then passing it back to her, trying to figure out what to say as she pokes you to tell her why you’ve been stuck in your own head.

“Yeah I’m okay.” melancholy laced in your words, continuing to carve a heart big enough to fit initials in, almost dissociating into the deepened grain of the wood. Imagining what life would be like with her as your girlfriend, you sigh heavily and she catches that too.

“You’ve been off for weeks…are you going to tell me what's up? I thought we told each other everything…” looking down at her hands and watching the smoke cascade off the joint before snuffing it out to relight later.

“Chae…” looking up at her again, immediately enthralled by her soft expression towards you. The care in her eyes visibly tracing your frame, waiting for you to let out what you’ve been holding in.

“I…like you.” immediately shutting your eyes and returning your attention to the carving trying to escape the discomfort of having just told your best friend of years that you had romantic feelings for her.

Through your peripherals you see her rotate to face you, expression dripping with grief, watching you chip away at the heart with your blade.

“Y/n…I’m kind of…seeing someone.”

—

Tear after tear falling from your eyes, face not even contorting at them anymore. The night you stopped speaking to Chaeyoung flashes in your mind at least three times a day, so the sting isn’t new but reliving that night definitely rubs salt into the wound.

It’s 2 in the morning when you decide it’s time to go to your favorite getaway location for the first time in about a month, wanting to create a new memory there by yourself so you can heal that part of you.

Rolling a joint for your adventure as you set off, trying to escape the sorrow of the wound that keeps reopening.

—

Arriving at the parking lot and parking in your usual spot, you sit for a second. Sniffling and ruminating in the disdain you were feeling for the crisp ocean air, taking in the changes to the setting around you.

Hedges still line the sides of the parking lot, a few palm trees sway in the breeze, beach roses consuming the foliage even more than before, blooming in the moonlight.

Stepping out of the car and walking over to the flowers, you smell the rich sweetness they give off and go to pick one for yourself, only to be pricked by the thorns immediately.

“Shit!” dropping the flower instantaneously, thorns sticking out of your finger. Pulling them out one by one under the moonlight, dripping blood onto the rose on the floor, staining it with the sanguine colored liquid.

Putting your finger in your mouth to ease the bleeding, you head towards the tranquility of the beach and the familiar place, the lifeguard shack, to be alone with your thoughts.

Climbing the slope and viewing the graffiti, more initials than before etched into the frame of the small shack that was raised off the ground to avoid the water.

The heart you chipped into the paint a month ago has someone’s initials in it that you didn’t put there…suspiciously, they’re your initials.

Perplexed by this, you try not to assume who added to your art installation as you light your joint, attempting to burn the ends evenly so it doesn’t canoe. Something you were never good at, that’s why Chae was always in charge of the weed.

Pulling on the joint as you stare into the sea and think about how much you miss her. The long silly conversations, the meaningful moments, the way she always got you a little snack when you were grumpy, her knowing your coffee order by heart, and it was understandable she did. She was your best friend.

Always showing you unconditional love, even through telling you about her new boyfriend, your memories slip back into the night you last spoke.

—

“Y/n…I’m kind of…seeing someone.” whispered to you through the waves, words causing a small wind within you, taking in the information that makes you nauseous.

Humidity sticks to every part of your skin, hiding the sweat from the rush of adrenaline when your hands start to shake. Seeing someone? Who? She hasn’t mentioned someone to you…

Spiraling at the thought of someone else taking that place in her life. Why hasn’t she mentioned her? Why wouldn’t she tell you about seeing someone? Weren’t you important to her?

“Y/n?…can you say something?” eyes shifting down at the floor. She knows what you’re going to say, just needing to hear it from your own lips before she assumes your next course of action.

“…I don’t have anything to say…” through soft tears you were hiding from her. They drip against your will, unable to hold them back when she gets up to hug you from behind. Hands on your stomach, cheek on your back and eyes closed, sniffling with you through the sadness.

“I don’t want to lose you…please say something…” the crack in her voice ruins you, reflecting the fracture she just chiseled into your heart.

“Who is it?” reverberates through your torso to her ears.

Chaeyoung can hear how shooken up you are, lungs quivering as you try to keep your breathing slow. She’s known for a while you felt this way, choosing to ignore it because she didn’t want you to vanish from her life because she wasn’t ready, only to assume you didn’t feel the same way now.

“I don’t think you truly want to hear about him…” replied coldly, still holding you tightly, unwilling to release you.

Heartbeat now racing at the pronoun she just laid out for you, realizing she was gripping you so tightly so you would run away from her.

“Him?! Chae I thought you we-” unhooking her from your body with some effort so you can face her, eyes drowning in your tears without your consent. You wipe the streams on your face, emotionally exhausted and sleep deprived.

She winces as you do. She knew this day was coming.

“Y/n, please just let me explain.” somewhat begging for you to hear her out, pulling on your sleeves and looking up at you, peering into your soul, framed in sadness.

“I’m happy for you…Can we leave?” flatly falls from your tongue.

“Y/n, please…” begging for another moment with you.

“Chae, I want to leave.”

—

It rings in your ears.

“Y/n please…”

Hearing it clear as day in your mind. You haven’t heard her voice since that night and thinking about it just pulls at your heart strings, playing the melody of regret for words unspoken.

Back against the front wall of the guard station, sliding down slowly until you were firmly seated on the ground. Pressing the filter of the joint to your lips and pulling a huge drag before you ash on the floorboards, watching the breeze sweep away the dust of gray and white.

Calm quiet waves and the weed comfort you through the ache of not having her around. Chest always swelling at the thought of her, wondering if she was happy, wondering if she remembered to eat that day…does he treat her right?

Sighing into the darkness, another pull, another ash, another gust as you sit in the depths of your emotions. Allowing your brain to take you through your thoughts of Chaeyoung without resistance.

“i was hoping you’d show up here eventually…Is this seat taken?” cuts through your mind's eye like a cleaver, startling you. Looking over to see a pair of familiar pajamas and an oversized hoodie, black hair flowing down from under the hood.

Those big brown puppy dog eyes glancing down at you, seeing your disheveled state, studying the faint tear streams down your cheeks and the small wet circular water marks on the floor beneath you. Pouting at you…Chae always hated to see you so sad. Especially because of the decision she made to date someone that wasn’t you.

Unsure of what to say, you just raised the joint up to her- extending an olive branch, a peace offering.

This made her absolutely beam at you, taking her place next to you and happily puffing away at the joint, giving a satisfied shimmy of the events currently taking place before plopping down next to you in the wooden floor.

Unable to contain yourself, you giggle as your body finally lets you relax. She was here, everything was going to be okay…right? Even with a false sense of security her presence gave you, you wished you could shake the feeling of missing her.

Exhaling quickly and turning to face you, making sure to make eye contact as she nudges your shoulder playfully.

“I missed you, dummy.” through the smallest smile you’ve ever seen, she was just too precious and you were completely wrapped around her finger.

“I missed you too…how are…things?” hesitantly questioning how her life was going, worried about the answer.

“Better now.” pulling the joint again before handing it back to you carefully. You wished she wouldn’t do that. Implying that you improve her life when you know who she’s calling every night before bed.

Shifting your focus to anything but what she just said, fixating on her hands, tracing over her finger tattoos with your eyes before grabbing the joint between your own fingers, lightly putting it out.

Feeling her energy was almost enough, the decompression of your muscles from just being near her was substantial enough to push the devastation away, even if it was temporary.

“How is he?” reluctantly flows through clenched teeth, oozing jealousy and spite.

“He’s…good.” tapping her fingers against her knees as she curls within herself, knowing you’re only asking because you feel obligated to. Knowing you’re hoping for a different answer.

Nodding your head and biting the inside of your cheek, fiddling with the ankle cuff if your joggers and trying to keep yourself seated. Discomfort sneaks in, thoughts of her being happy with someone else being a wave of nausea, imitating sea sickness as you wobble a little in the feeling.

The signs of your care for each other was always there, you were just too nervous to face her about them and she was anticipating you making the first move. There were plenty of moments to do so and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything sooner. Locked in your own fear, ruining your own chance.

“Can I ask you something?” Chae's curious eyes peeked up at you while resting her chin on her knees, a pout placed on her perfect lips.

“Yeah.” refusing eye contact out of a familiar fear, wondering if she was going to ask where you were or where you’d been.

“Why’d you stop taking my calls?” cheek now resting on her knees, you can see how she’s trying to calm her breathing through the difficult question. Never being one to ask them, hating confrontation but she had to know why you took so many steps back from her. She just need to hear you say it.

A deep breath, eyes shifting anywhere but on her. How were you supposed to tell her the truth?

“I…uhm…didn��t want to talk to you.” little lies through your clenched teeth, grinding away at your heart like sandpaper.

“Don’t lie to me.” Chae’s brows furrow as she lets out a little annoyed shriek. It’s hard not to giggle at her when she makes what she would call her “angy” face at you. It’s too cute to be considered “angy.”

“Fine.” Sighing heavily and turning to face her, hands roughly running down your face as you prepare to tell her what she definitely already knew. Swallowing roughly, deep breath, and go!

“I stopped talking to you because it’s hard to see someone else making you so happy…I wanted it to be me…and with how we are or I guess were, with each other I thought that’s what you wanted too.” attempting to not sniffle as the tears trickle down your cheeks again, stinging your eyes and adding to the salt on your face.

Feeling a warmth on your right side and the pressure of a head resting on your shoulder, you lean into Chae and continue to silently cry a little harder.

Tears staining her hoodie as they fall, a hand reaches around you and holds your waist, lightly scratching in an attempt to comfort you.

“You’re right, you know.” matter of factly uttered through the breeze of the early morning hours surrounding you.

“About what?” lifting your head to look at her while she elaborates on what she means.

“That is what I wanted…I just didn’t think you wanted to try because you never said anything or reacted when I dropped hints” nervously from her shaky lips while her own tears fell, her face now matching yours in the same sorrow.

“What? When did you drop hints?” confusion layered your words heavily, racking your brain for Chae’s attempts to show her feelings, completely oblivious to any hints she might’ve dropped along the way.

“Come on, don’t pretend like you don’t remember. I would always hold your hand, cling to you, cuddle with you…we even made out a few times over the years.” frustrated at your lack of knowledge, even though she never blatantly told you the level of what she was experiencing.

“Chae, we were young…I thought you were just an affectionate person or that it wasn’t serious. Like how Sana is?” a weak attempt to defend yourself from not making a move or telling her sooner.

“Sana likes you.” cold, flat tone, maybe a hint of jealousy uttered from her lips, body language shifting to show a little discomfort.

“What?!” complete shock consumes you, trying to take in the overwhelming amount of data you just received.

“Yeah, that’s why I never invited her to hang out with us after the first time…I didn’t want her to be that close to you” grief weighs her voice down to a whisper, the confession fresh even after years.

“Chae why would yo-” hands cupping your face almost immediately. She presses her lips on yours, tears mix into a painful spiral of what could’ve been between you.

Stiffening at the contact, you aren’t really sure what to do at the moment. Fighting to not lean into it, but not wanting to pull away either. She pulls away for a second to look at your face before placing one hand on your hip, pulling you into her, laying her lip on you again.

Not being able to help yourself after years of pining, you melt into it, quickly turning heated as she slides her tongue in your mouth. Her hands feel so comfortable on your skin, wrapping around your waist under your shirt, fidgeting with the hem of your pants laid on your hips.

Pulling away to press her forehead against yours, her hand descends down into your underwear before she whispers into your mouth.

“Is this okay?” eye contact is absolutely excruciating, completely drenching you in the dream you were living. Nodding your head aggressively and pulling her back into you for more.

The passionate make out session she started completely derailing into a full blown hook up, moaning into her while she’s gathering your wetness on her fingers to make small circles on your clit, eliciting more of the sweet sounds she wished she heard years ago.

There’s no way you’ll get caught here, it’s almost 3 am and the sounds of the sea will cover any noise you make so you allow yourself to be loud for her so she can see how badly you need her and how badly you want her.

Chae slides a finger into you, eliciting a gasp that she swallows whole. Curling her fingers up, you’re grinding into her palm and chasing the pleasure she knew she was giving you.

Breaking from the kiss, laying her lips down your cheek to your jaw and then to your neck. Biting down on your pulse point coaxing more whines from you.

“That’s right, baby, let me hear you,” softly spoken into your ear before she ran her teeth over your lobe, tugging at the skin, and resting her chin on your shoulder before whimpering when she felt your hand rubbing into her over her sweat pants.

Suddenly pulling her finger out and replacing it with two, she takes your hand and pushes it into her harder so you can feel how wet she is under her sweatpants.

“Can I..?” half moaned, clenching around her digits tightly, pressing into her so the seam of her sweats hits just the right spot.

“Not yet, gotta take care of you first” whined into your neck, still pumping her fingers deep into you at a steady rhythm, you thrust into her hands as you feel the knot tightening into your stomach.

“Fuck, chae…I’m gonna cum” hips sputtering, let out a string of obscenities and moans out, next to her ear.

Chae immediately removes her hands from you, kisses you and stands up, unable to look you in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” walking away and down the slope of the life guard tower, leaving you to figure out your feelings and question everything that’s ever happened between the two of you and wondering why she would fuck you just to leave you here feeling unloved and unwanted.

—

“Do you think dinner will be weird?” Sana asks from the passenger seat of your car as you pull into the parking garage in front of Jihyo’s apartment building.

“I don’t think so. At least I hope it’s not. It’s been a while since I have seen her, so I can avoid her through conversation with everyone else.” putting the car into park and looking over at your lovely girlfriend of a few months.

Her eyes soften, she knows the details of what happened that night at the beach. Sana knows how detrimental that memory is to you, but it was Jihyo’s birthday and you were a good friend. You weren’t going to miss it because of Chaeyoung.

“Alright, Honey. But if you get uncomfortable, please let me know. I don’t want you to put your own mental health at risk for the sake of a small party, okay?” Placing her hand on your cheek to make sure you keep eye contact with her.

Putting your hand on hers, you move it over and kiss her palm lightly. She giggles at you, before leaning in to lay her lips on yours.

“Thank you, baby.” smiling at her after pulling away, getting out of the driver's side door and walking around the other side to open hers, offering your hand out for her to hold while she steps out of the car, intertwining her fingers with yours and squeezing softly.

—

“Oh my god! Y/n! It’s been so long!” Jihyo runs at you and envelopes you in a bear hug before giving you a once over, taking in how you’re glowing and happy.

“You look good!” knowing the last time she saw you was when a week or two after the beach incident. You didn’t have to tell her what happened for her to understand who it involved and why you were distraught.

“I’m so happy to see you and that smile of yours again. Thank you for dragging her out of the house, Sana.” giving a wink and then passing you off to the others, giving them a chance to greet you.

Everyone gave a similar reaction to seeing you as Jihyo, except the one person you expected to barely interact with. A small wave behind an even smaller smile.

“It’s good to see you.” eyes on the floor, hands awkwardly fiddling with themselves, feet shuffling and biting the inside of her cheek. Her anxious tells were showing in full force and you weren’t the only one to notice it.

Sana places her hand on your lower back, rubbing small circles to soothe you through this uncomfortable exchange.

“Good to see you too, Chae.” before stepping away to gather with the rest of the girls to start the birthday festivities, finding you and Sana’s seats next to each other with Chaeyoung placed at the complete opposite end of the table.

—

Stepping outside for a second to get some fresh air, being too full to even think about the discomfort of Chaeyoung being within such close proximity. You lean against the railing of the patio taking in the calmness of the night sky when the door opens behind you and closes softly.

Without even having to look, you already know who’s present behind you. A long sigh expels from your lungs, you know what’s coming.

“We broke up… I broke up with him…I’ve been trying to get into contact with you since the night after…the beach.” stated before you could even blink.

Finding a place next to you on the railing, she pulls out a joint and lights it before trying to hand it to you. Politely declining, she takes a few pulls and then speaks again.

“After that night…I couldn’t get you out of my head. Every time he touched me, I wished it was you.” Glancing to see what emotions were present on your face, finding stoicism where love used to be.

“I blocked you that night, Chae…can we not do th-” she pushes your shoulder to open up your stance and takes a step towards you, getting close to your face trying to initiate something more than she should.

Tilting her head lightly and leaning into you as you take a huge step back from her, you tell her the absolute truth.

“Chae, we can’t do this. More importantly, I don’t want to do this. You had the opportunity and you wasted it. You used me that night at the beach for your own selfish gain and then left me there…alone. Cheating on your boyfriend and ruining our friendship on the same night…I don’t want to date someone like you.” stern in your words as you relive the night in your mind, again and again. Still grieving the past.

“I thought the love we had was pure and I’m trying to keep that memory alive so please, don’t remind me of what you did.” Stepping towards the door, pulling it open as fast as possible. You needed to get away from her. Now.

“I’m sorry.” muffled by her tears and the creaking of the hinges as you try to run away when she grabs your wrist and places something in your hands, not bothering to look at it before leaving her outside.

Not wanting to show your emotions to Sana, you rush into the bathroom before she can see the state you’re in.

Closing the door behind you and flipping the bright fluorescent lights on, you look into your hand and see a dried up beach rose that’s stained with dark crimson. You stare at it as you remember the thorns, looking at the tip of your finger where the scars were from that night.

Into the garbage it went as quickly as you saw it. Splashing cold water on your face, arms locked, leaning on the chilled porcelain sink trying to collect yourself so you can be present for the rest of the party when you hear a knock at the door.

“Baby? Are you in there?” the sweet voice warms your heart, as you turn the knob and crack the door to let Sana in.

“Oh, honey” immediately grabbing you to hold you while you silently sob into her. Rubbing your back and telling you that you were safe but you couldn’t help but keep wishing it was Chaeyoung. Always wishing it was Chaeyoung .

#twice imagines #twice x reader #kpop x reader #sana x reader #wlw #twice smut #twice sana #twice fic #minatozaki sana #son chaeyoung imagine #son chaeyoung #son chaeyoung x reader #chaeyoung x fem!reader #angst4ChaePookums

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creamybeemovie69 · 4 months

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Some of my favourite little details in avatar: frontiers of pandora

The two guards outside the council room in the aranahe hometree that just chat shit? All the time? Even during that last confrontation with Etuwa's father they're just stood chatting about someone's poor foraging skills or some shit it's so funny

The fact that the camera lowers when you're speaking to humans, which I know is probably so we can get a good look at them but I chose to believe it's because your sarentu slowly kneels until they're eye level with them

Nefika and Relun's dynamic of miserable old man and batshit crazy old woman

Whatever the fuck Okul's got going on. Gender? Babes they're clinically insane, they're too busy running into poisonous gas to worry about gender

The sleeping pod things hanging from the ceiling in the hometree. It took me forever to work out where they were all sleeping because there was no way they were all fitting in that one sleeping den

"it is sound proof Priya."

Anqa forgetting her training and getting attacked by wasps because she's too busy thinking about Priya

Hajir and Alex planning to have tea, no one talk to me

Daniella being this very capable badass soldier with a hardened exterior and her himbo husband who's just happy to be there as long as there's wood to whittle and food to cook

The sarentu humming sarentu songs while they cook

Zomey refusing to leave the plane until she saw Eetu get out

The resistance humans wearing clothes that have been altered/repaired by Na'vi weavers

Minang losing her shit and charging the base in the plains despite being the calmer, more collected one? Good shit.

That little detail in the cloud spitter description that says kids make a game of seeing how close they can get to the plant without triggering it

"I can still smell the chemicals" just kill me now I can't take this

Every single individual human having to ask Jake Sully for permission to stay on the planet. Were they forced to go back to the RDA if he said no? Or were they just left to die out on pandora?

The ferals being unable to communicate with eachother and being so angry because they're so lonely

Kin, Relun and the Kame'tire trader all being friends before the Kame'tire were banished

Priya not being able to talk to Alma in her human form because her avatar was her friend

Nor just. Disappearing? Where did he go? Is he okay? Why can't I go looking for him?

The Na'vi naming options for your Ikran being the names of other kids in TAP

So'lek collecting the identity tags of the soldiers he kills

So'lek in general actually. "This dReAmWaLkEr decided to lock you up in a box instead 👀"

Alex being granted permission to stay on pandora because he wanted to keep Grace's legacy alive through his work. Why is this never mentioned anywhere but in his character description?

The comic book pages

The fact that Priya dyes her hair. Are you actually telling me this excitable little climatologist worked out how to make hair dye from pandoran plants before Alex figured out how to eat any of it?

Anqa's fucking "my land was invaded too". Give this head-empty lesbian a break man

Everyone hating Billy because they think he can't be trusted only for him to be one of the most loyal among them

Etuwa's father refusing to fight because he lost his wife, then deciding to fight because he won't let them take his daughter too

"what have they done to you, my beautiful?" Actually sobbing like a fucking baby rn

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xxxcryptidxxx · 16 days

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DRIP DRIP DROP!

(Neuvillette understands the phrase “Love hurts” all too well)

"I'll paint the sky red, all for you." (Ft.Neuvillette)

Character(s): Neuvillette, Reader (Genderless)

Tags: yandere!character, SH, blood, knives, stalking, non-consensual photography, dark topics

——————————————————————————

When the Traveller and his companion came to Fontaine, Neuvillette was indifferent, the sky cloudy, a slight air of gloom washed over the nation.

But when he first saw you, the sky immediately brightened. He absolutely adored speaking with you. It was actually difficult to keep his professional persona.

The very minute it started to grow cloudy, Neuvillette immediately thought of you, and the skies would clear once again.

He made it a priority to keep the skies clear, just for you. He smiled, assuming you'd love the sunny weather. But you looked up and frowned slightly.

Neuvillette’s face immediately fell. A...frown? Why in Teyvat would you frown?!

He wasn't the only one to notice, Aether raised an eyebrow at your lackluster reaction to the change in weather.

“Something wrong? You don't look too happy…”

You paused, turning to look at Aether.

“It's…nothing really. I just really love rain. I prefer gloomy weather over sunny, warm weather…but it's okay. I heard the rain is the Hydro dragons tears, I don't want to make someone cry.”

You casually mentioned your love of rain and gloomy weather, displaying a slight disappointment at the change in weather type.

Neuvillette’s ears perked up, his heart sputters when he hears your concern for him., he'd never thought someone would prefer gloom over sunny days. No matter, if it's gloomy weather you want, it's gloomy weather you'll get.

Unfortunately for Neuvillette, he wasn't one of those who could cry on command, and there was nothing worth crying over—except you of course. Unable to make himself cry, he simply decided he'd need to take drastic measures.

He stared at the letter opener on his desk, a determined yet crazed look in his beautiful blue irises. He picks it up, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

One…Two……Six………Fourteen……

He's lost count of how many times he’s sliced open his pale flesh, a puddle of red pulling on the floor beneath him. A sea itself of tears dripping from his pretty eyes.

It hasn't stopped raining in days, the sea's are high, and the land is becoming waterlogged. And yet, none of that matters, for his beloved wanted rain, so rain there shall be.

Each night he stains his wooden floor a deeper tint of red, muffled panting and hissing emitting from outside his door well into the late hours.

He pressed the letter opener against his arm once again, carelessly running the sharp edge over the same spot, milky flesh parts immediately to give way to a sea of red, each new slice moment digging the blade deeper into muscle tissue. Crimson oozes from his wounds, pooling on the wooden flooring in a uniform puddle at his feet. His eyes burn with tears, but he wants more. He wants—no. He NEEDS to prove how much his Angel means to him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Neuvillette? It's Furina, are you okay in there? It's raining pretty hard…”

Neuvillette curses under his breath silently, hiding the bloody letter opener and wrapping up his hand.

“Yes Furina, I'm fine, I just figured we needed some rain after how dry it's been.”

Furina wasn't convinced, but she didn't want to intrude.

“O-Okay…just…let me know if you need anything…”

Neuvillette merely grunts in response, a very dismissive reaction. He waits for the sound of Furina's footsteps to disappear before picking his letter opener back up.

His office starts to smell vaguely of iron, his gloves now for more than just aesthetics. The secrets his sleeves hide are for him and only him to know about. Each night he adds a new line to his pale skin, skin and muscle separating, pain receptors do nothing to stop him. The edges of his vision get dark and blurry, his head light from blood loss.

(Un)fortunately for Neuvillette, he has friends who care and worry about him. Annoyingly caring, can't they see he's busy?! Any and questions aimed to get answers out of him end in short, vague responses.

He dodges the questions of Furina, waving her off with a poor but plausible excuse. He's gotten surprisingly rude to Wriothesley, especially when Wriothesley was near his beloved, their relationship strains, yet Neuvillette always manages to silver tongue his way out of any tension. Not even Sigewinne can get anything out of him.

He spends his free time following his beloved from a distance, taking note of every little thing said and done. Stopped at a shop to look at some trinket? One of each color is mailed to your residence.

Your favorite flower, snack, or some type of gift is always at your doorstep, a handwritten, anonymously sent card attached to each gift. You don't know who it is or how they found your address, but they don't seem to be malevolent so you accept the gifts, keeping them on your desk.

Neuvillette's heart races each time he sees you accept his presents, smiling like a schoolgirl who's crush looked at her in math class. So what if it's a little creepy that he's been following you home every night? It's just…for protection.

God's forbid you'd ever express concerns for him to him, his heart might just stop. You're too cute, a mortal worrying about someone thousands of years old? How precious. Even more of a reason for him to protect you. There's a lot of sick people out there who could ruin you. Unacceptable.

Oh and by the way, ignore the camera sounds, he doesn't know how to turn the shutter off on his camera yet. Neuvillette just wants a few hundred photos for his room. Nothing too bad, just some of you walking, eating, sleeping. Totally normal. I mean it's not like he taped a photo of you sleeping to his pillow so he could pretend he was cuddling you. Absolutely not, you have the craziest ideas!

Neuvillette is oblivious to the looks of concern and even the ones of anger. Who cares if there's so much water houses are flooding? That smile on his gloomy Angel's face makes nothing else matter.

Who needs the sun anyway?

——————————————————————

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #yandere x reader #yandere neuvillette #x reader

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aloesarchives · 7 months

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Kengan Headcanon: Gaolong's reaction to an opponent speaking about you in a unsavory manner

Warnings: Swearing on my end, reader been ogled at, gender neutral reader/pronouns

Series: Kengan Ashura/ Kengan Omega

Pairing: Gaolong Wongsawat x GN! Reader

Word count: 1988

Pronouns: They/them (reader is referred as partner and (Y/N))

(A/N: Been sitting in my file for a year. Now it's finally finished and posted. Please let me know if there is anything else I need to tag in my warnings.)

So I already established that in my headcanon of Gaolang that he respects women unironically, actually he respects people in general.

That’s because he’s just GOATED like that and is overall a decent person, especially in the world/universe of Kengan.

But back to the topic, the reason why I want to establish this is he is someone that doesn’t take no shit from anyone. Based on what we learned in Ashura, Gaolang looks down upon those who are cocky and don’t take fighting seriously. Looking more into it, he normally just gets irritated by them due to his calm and collected composure.

In the world of the sport boxing, it’s no stranger that he will come across people who don’t fall under the definition of sportsmanship. Gaolang has his fair share of opponents that need a little bit of humbling, and he for sure gives it to them during the boxing match. It also doesn’t help his perception of them when they think and openly claim they can clean Gaolang up, making him believe they’re shallow inside and out. But he only does the pre-fight press conference because his manager told him it builds up his good reputation and consistent publicity. Knowing him, he wouldn’t really go to these but he does it for the sake of the sport and the benefits it brings as previously mentioned.

In a normal situation at a pre-fight press conference, he’ll get annoyed by these fighters and let that emotion subside after the press conference is done. He’ll reply nonchalantly to anything that’s thrown at him whether it’s questions or remarks from his opponents that tests the waters. He knows how to handle them and just waits to get into the ring so his fighting can do all the talking for him.

That’s until there was one opponent he had to fight he wouldn’t forget. Gaolang’s title as heavyweight champion was never challenged nor questioned at all. But during that moment in time, Gaolang’s title as champion was being questioned when another boxer was racking up wins left and right. Although this boxer was slightly younger, he was picking up fast and his fights looked impressive. Eventually, this novice boxer was turning heads and getting popular to the point where rumors and speculation about him being the new champion in the heavyweight division. It seemed absurd to think so, but it wasn’t out of the picture.

Gaolang saw the boxer’s other fights and understood where the praise was coming from. Although Gaolang was confident in his abilities, he still was cautious of the other’s abilities and boxing style. So like always, Gaolang trained like he always does. This wasn’t new to you at all since you have been with Gaolang for quite some time and married for a few years at that point in time.

You thought this opponent was different as he seemed humble and didn’t bark a lot. After turning on the t.v. back in Thailand, you started watching the pre-fight press conference. Again, nothing new to you at all. When the questions from reporters started coming in, both boxers answered them as normal. However, you had a feeling that something was off about the guy. You could tell what it was but your gut had a strange feeling that couldn’t be shaken.

It was not until the last 15 minutes of the conference that the novice boxer started to bite off more than he can chew. There was one reporter left that triggered a particular answer from him that caught Gaolang’s attention. However, what got a reaction out of him was when the boxer mentioned your name.

“But I will admit though, Gaolang. I’m jealous of you. You’ve got a beautiful and wonderful partner there. I wish I had someone like (Y/N).”

Gaolang didn’t like where this was going. More so when someone mentions your name that wasn’t friends, family, or King Rama. He knows people like to use your name to throw off Gaolang but he knows how to deal with those who try to use your name to their advantage.

But it doesn’t mean Gaolang doesn’t feel any sort of anger when this happens, especially now.

Gaolang stood up and gave his signature glare to his opponent. He then walked across the stage and stood in the middle. The boxer did the same but he had a stupid shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“What’s with the face, Gaolang? I thought you would agree since you have (Y/N) to yourself, ya’know? Having such a fine person as a partner is something between us two men with good taste could understand.”

“Watch your tongue, (Boxer’s name). (Y/N) is not an object and is not to be ogled at, have some respect.”

But the boxer didn’t know any better and forgot to hold his tongue. The next few things that came out his mouth sent Gaolang’s blood boiling. Then there’s you who gasped and covered your mouth as you watched what unfolded in front of you on the screen. Deepening his glare more while still keeping his stoic face, he looked down upon the novice boxer.

“Your words against (Y/N) are punishable crimes, and I will deliver the punishment without further question.”

With that, Gaolang turned and walked towards the exit. All chaos breaks out in the conference room. Meanwhile, you were sitting at home with the feeling of disgust and a pinch of fear. You never minded when your name came in the news, but this type of attention was something you feared and the fact a man said on live television with no hesitation was terrifying.

Basically, Gaolang went straight to his hotel room and took a cool shower to calm down.

The anger subsided but the feeling of repulse didn’t.

There are only 3 things that Gaolang shows pride, loyalty and devotion towards: the country of Thailand, King Rama, and you.

And how dare that boxer disrespect you in front of him. The absolute audacity!!!

After Gaolang finishes his shower, he calls you to see if you're okay. Whether it is physically or emotionally, Gaolang needs to make sure you’re doing alright. Gaolang, as always, is respectful towards you in anything. That’s why he has never mentioned you or your relationship to the public unless you allow it. But even then, he wants it to be lowkey af.

Sure, you have calmed down. However, you were a little shaken by this. I mean, I would if a random man said some unsavory things about me on public broadcasting.

Gaolang apologized for letting this happen to you, to which you told him that this isn’t anything too serious and that he should focus more on his upcoming title defense match.

However, this was and IS a serious matter to Gaolang. So the next few days, Gaolang trained with just a little bit more intent than normal.

(Meanwhile, that boxer is getting absolutely slandered for the shit he said on the internet. Those netizens don’t like how he dissed their favorite power couple)

At last, the day of the match that would decide who keeps the title is here. You opt to stay home for this as it would be better for your piece of mind. But you were more worried about Gaolang. Although you know your husband well, actually that’s the problem. You know how exactly your husband is. Goalang isn’t a hard person to read. He’s rational, calm, loyal, and observant. One thing you notice about Gaolang is how defensive he can get.

People can shit talk him all they want, he could give zeros fucks at all. But insult Thailand, King Rama, or god forbid you, that person is gonna get fucking die.

It had been a couple of days since the conference. So you know the initial anger wore off. But still, you only hope Gaolang goes somewhat easy on him.

But since the controversy at the press conference caused such attention, this match was one of Gaolang’s most anticipated matches yet for any of his titles.

The event started as per usual with any boxing matches, the sponsors, introductions/entrances, anthems, etc. The challenger seems as confident as ever, having barely any nervousness evident on his face. Same goes with Gaolang, but with his classic stoic stare. The match was on its way once the referee explained the rules and the first bell rang.

However, you knew something was wrong right off the bat with him. It wasn't like Gaolang was fighting alright, he’s a man that never half ass anything. But you can tell he wasn’t giving his all at all. You didn’t know why he wasn’t trying at all. This wasn’t like his fight with Kaneda, he put effort into that one. But something was different about this match and you couldn’t tell what.

It seemed like Gaolong was struggling seemingly, the commentators were shocked and questioned that there would be a new heavyweight boxing champion on their hands. Was this the end of Gaolong’s reign as boxing champion?

No, you knew we wouldn’t lose to people like his opponent. He would rather die than give them a win.

The third round came along and around seemed hype about Gaolong’s opponent and he seemingly being the winner. However, Gaolong was not phased by this. In fact, he still kept his calm composed aura like he always does. That’s when you saw that Gaolong was up to something. You didn’t know yet but it was something.

The 3rd match began and that was when everything suddenly changed. It was like a flip of a switch as Gaolong just started boxing the hell out of his opponent. Gaolong had landed more hits than his opponent could dodge.

It was obvious to the crowd that this round was one-sided. Gaolong outmatched the hell of his opponent in every way he could. And with a finishing blow to the jaw, Gaolong had won by a knockout. The crowd went wild, the commentators losing their minds from the fast yet heavy KO.

Gaolong pulled the ultimate power move by letting his opponent think he had a sliver of hope in beating Gaolong. Only for Gaolong to straight up smash it to the group and pummel it until it was dust. He shattered the man’s hopes and dreams by letting him think he had a chance of getting a win only for Gaolong to show him that he is nowhere near his level.

That Gaolong was miles ahead of this cocky bastard and he made sure his opponent knew that. This loss will forever change his opponent for the rest of his career.

After the Gaolong’s win was finalized, all he wanted to do was go home back to Thailand and be with you. That’s it. He did his press conferences and interviews, but he didn’t care for them. All that mattered was you and he needed to get home to you as soon as possible.

As always, King Rama gives Gaolong a few days to a week off of work when Gaolong brings home a win. Every time Gaolong wins, it’s like an unofficial national holiday is happening. Thailand is bright and festive as ever everything he wins.

Now with Gaolong back home and off from work, he just spends his time with you. Maybe a little training but more so leisure and doing errands or chores with you. You were happy that Gaolong isn’t in a bad mood anymore but Gaolong now knows that people who weaponized you and your name against him just to stir the pot.

Well, he takes that pot and creates his own fucking food with it because no way in hell will he let someone do that to you. He made it known with that match. Because after that match, his opponents never mentioned your name ever again.

Thai God Guard Dog privileges.

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Hope you enjoyed it! Please like or/and reblog it! Have a wonderful day!

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #x reader #gaolang wongsawat #kengan ashura headcanons #kengan ashura x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n

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accio-victuuri · 7 days

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my mostly calm(er) reaction and reflection post on the magnolia awards nomination list 🥀

sir i don’t understand. why aren’t good people rewarded? // as the old saying goes, evil doers get gold belts and good people can’t even keep their corpses. { war of faith episode 24 }

the quote above is one of my favorites from the show and i feel the truth to it now more than ever. i have already posted about my initial rage and that hasn’t changed, it’s not okay and will never be. i’m mostly a pacifist but i’m not a doormat. there is a reason why the WOF account or the other nominees like the director and “best actor” have not posted their thanks as soon as the nominations were out because they are guilty. it speaks volumes and they should be ashamed of themselves. if you look at the most recent post for WOF weibo account, they are being torn apart. not to mention blog accounts and the same audience who supported the drama calling them out.

this should not be a surprise to those of us who watched the show and understood it’s meaning. because this is what the show thought us, to not stay quiet when there is injustice. much like how wei ruolai said that he is ashamed to be in this mountain. how he was not afraid to leave his dream and literally walk back to Jiangxi for what he believes is the right thing to do. i don’t think you will fully understand the hurt, this is not just me being a yibo stan but someone who saw myself in Wei Ruolai.

the drama was about how the youth can change the world. the reality, and what just happened is proving otherwise. i’m sharing this quote here cause it perfectly explains the problem:

"If the youth are strong, the country will be strong" but the truth is the youth are strong, but you don't recognize it.

this incident exposed the problem with these acting awards. i daresay, not only that, but with other industries where everything has to be about seniority. which in turn makes the younger generation feel burned out and contribute to wanting to lie flat. because what’s the point if the game is rigged. the CCP have always given importance to the youth. often inserting the message of why you all should have kids now because they are the future. they are important blah blah blah — but this simple award? you can’t even show fairness? Wang Yibo is the poster boy for CCP’s propaganda on how an upstanding Chinese Youth should be. He has been in the most recent years, we all cannot deny that with how prominent he is showing up in nationalistic programs tied to the “youth”. So if someone as popular/well-known/talented as WYB can’t be treated fairly. can’t be rewarded with his efforts, then what more for a normal citizen?

WOF team and Magnolia Awards really opened a can of worms here. It goes deeper than nominations and a fandom. In a way, it’s good how this exposed the corrupt system and contributed to why people are so angry. The tag for him continued to stay on top because a lot of netizen can relate, even if you didn’t watch it, i bet they had something to say. It’s been happening for some time but definitely is magnified because of Yibo’s popularity and it made them look really bad.

I am aware of Yibo’s chances with the history of older nominees when it comes to this Awards show but I am confident that he had a good chance of getting it. What made me livid was Wang Yang taking the nom. You can slice and dice it however you want, but Yibo carried that show. He is the main lead. The story is about Wei Ruolai. If Yibo didn’t get it i will still speak up but with the betrayal, not only to him but also the screenwriter — i can’t stay silent and be the “rational” vic that most of you are familiar with. WAR OF FAITH is still one of my favorite dramas with how it affected me and is largely contributing to why i’m reacting the way i do.

I’m not gonna defend anyone. Only Wang Yibo. Honestly. Fuck them all. I watched the show and supported it for WYB — everyone else don’t matter. I won’t post any hate message on their accounts but they get no love from me either.

So now let me get to the good part. Because no matter how hurt we all are, there is still a lot of good that came out of this. The silver lining(s) if you will.

1. Everyone who said that WYB has some backers can fuck off. This proves that he hasn’t. He has no background. There is no big-name pulling the strings for him. He is where he is because he is WANG YIBO. His name alone is enough. WOF got the green light because Wang Yibo’s name was on it. Now more than ever, it is proven that he is where he is because of who he is and what he can bring to the table.

2. We are reminded once again that producers are not our friends. LOL. if you know, you know. it’s all business. So don’t kiss their ass.

3. The fact that he trended #1 for hours, and still is right now at number 4 is proof of how great he represented the character of Wei Ruolai. People now recognize him as an actor who deserves a nomination and a win. The general public are now on his side. He is the underdog and there is nothing more that we want to see than a beaten down person rise above it and win. In a way, this creates more buzz and anticipation for his next movie that will be out. 🫶🏼

4. This has really set him apart from his peers of idol actors who crossed over to being professionals. He did it so effectively and in a short span of time. What happened is sad, but he won people’s hearts and those who already do stan him are more geared up to support him in the future. 💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼

I’m happy for WOF’s nomination. If i’m being honest, it was a sure thing. I’m proud WYB was part and led this amazing drama to what it is. He will continue to give us more excellent works because that is his gift to the audience who always support him.

In the next coming days, if WYB or most likely YBO puts something out, that’s what i’m gonna follow. The most i will do is congratulate WOF, but the others? no thank you.

#wang yibo #personal #war of faith #i cannot sleep so i wrote this instead #i cannot sleep cause im so mad lol #yizhan

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triflesandparsnips · 7 months

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Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with

Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"

Laying the groundwork first...

1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.

Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.

2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.

(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")

3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.

This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.

And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--

4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.

So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.

And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...

...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.

5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.

And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.

And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)

But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:

A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."

B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.

C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--

6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.

That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.

But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.

I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.

But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.

#will it be the content or the length that causes the unfollows?#WHO CAN SAY #but every day is Unfollowing Amnesty Day #farewell and be free #our flag means death #our flag means death s2 spoilers #our flag means death seasons 3 rampant speculation #izzy hands #engaging with stories #and curating your own experience #(but for real - I had to stop myself at just the few possibilities I gave for a resurrection)#(real talk if you ask me for more I can just-- come up with more)#(it's my party trick)#(for very certain kinds of very nerdy parties)

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theriverbeyond · 6 months

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have you seen any breakdown of the political situation on New Rho (in New Rho? is the rest of the planet also populated? I think at one point someone says "down in Ur" but maybe there is an application of 2-dimensional direction terms to 3d space I havent yet thought of). Like who do they mean by militia, who is the government (who is the police?), is there any official house presence, what is the status of the barracks, who manned the spaceport, what power does BoE hold and how are they viewed in the population (Hot Sauce denounces them but who is her faction-that Pyrrha saw her with-then?) and do they know how splintered and farspread it is? what is the siege the blurb is speaking of, just the imperial emissaries showing up?

Also assuming the BoE wings are all named after different planetary settlements which seem in turn to be named after cities in the ancient near east (ur, merv, ctesiphon), why isnt new rho? but i might be misinterpreting this.

Also where does the Empire want non-House humanity to end up? They seem to be turning planets left and right with no endgoal. And how many settled planets might there be?

Sorry I'm dumping this all at you, I havent seen any worldbuilding discussion here on tumblr at all really so maybe you can redirect me somewhere.

Thankies, keep up the good work (posting)

I HAVE seen posts about the political situation on New Rho including analysis posts that were very interesting and I have utterly failed to tag them appropriately, I am sorry -- if anyone who sees this has links to that meta pls add on/reply to help anon!

But to cover the rest of your points:

What is Ur?

Ur is mentioned twice that i can find, in ch 16: Ianthe says that the end has come to the "rebels of Ur", and a person in the crowd says "Ur is fighting".

EDIT: big thank you to @eskildit in replies: "There are four total references to Ur- Corona also says that Judith is in the Ur facility and Kiriona says that the 6th house is "parked outside the Ur system". Could be that Ur is the planet New Rho is located on. While we refer the nine houses as planets, canonically the houses are actually "installations" on each planet with quite small populations. New Rho alone, which is specifically stated to be just one city on a resettled planet, is 3x the size of the 6th house"

It may have been mentioned more times, but Kindle search is giving me the 2,320 times the letters "ur" were used next to each other so I'm ngl I cannot sift through that. Rather than being a city, though, I actually am assuming that Ur is another planet entirely! This is due to multi-planet SciFi in general treating entire planets like countries or even big cities. Like…. planets are huge. There are thousands of different cultures on a planet, but in SciFi planets are often like. One Big City. One Big Country, if you have a particularly ambitious worldbuilder. See: Star Wars, the Nine Houses themselves, etc. not saying that Ur cannot be on New Rho, just that I don't think it is because this is multi-planet Sci Fi.

The militia/civic government?

In chapter 6 a distinction is made between "the militia and the old civic govnerment". Following that, I think the civic government was probably installed by the Houses, as a ruling party that is friendly to them/House interests. I think the militia is a non-unified population of hired guns, that probably revolted at some point priot to the story. It does seem like at least some section of the militia is in power in most of the city, but I do not think there is one coherent government at the moment

Official house presence?

Yes, because there are official cohort barracks. I don't think they have much political leverage by the time NtN rolls around, though

Barrack status?

Under siege due to the people of New Rho hating them/political instability/possible militia revolt, doing badly otherwise because any and all necromancers are suffering from Blue Madness/RB proximity, as seen in ch 20 when Ianthe mentioned some of them were so poorly she had to put them down.

Space port?

I am assuming the civic government/House was originally in charge. unsure of who is in charge during NtN

What power does BOE hold?

Unclear. It seems like BOE itself is fractionated, with a lot of animosity held between different factions, and a lot of both animosity AND collaboration between different factions of BOE, the militia, the population, and the old civic government. It is a very decentralized resistance force, despite sharing a name. BOE do not appear to BE the official government, or BE the militia, though, but I would not be surprised if some groups had ties to one or both. It seems like they have influence both socially and politically but it is unclear what that power is... some factions have some amount of power. Over some parts. But!! it seems that during the events of NtN they had more power than in the past ("best hand they were ever delt", chapter 1)

How is BOE viewed by the population?

My guess is they have mixed reviews. I think a lot of people probably rely on them for resources/protection even if they don't like or fully trust them. I think a lot of people probably see them as extremists and wish they were less extreme (the liberals, u could say). Like Hot Sauce and the gang, a lot of people probably think they aren't radical enough and wish they would resist more, harder, differently. I think a lot of people probably deeply support them, either physically by being part of BOE or by providing resources/etc, or quietly because they are afraid of retaliation by the House or civil government. A lot of the population probably has opinions about BOE versus the militia, BOE verus House, BOE versus the civic government, based on their own interests/position/power. This is a really long answer that can boil down to "idk"

What is the siege?

I think the siege is the cohort being sieged into the barracks. I am guessing there was some sort of revolt in the local government, probably related to Blue Madness weakening the cohort, and they have pushed the cohort into the barracks. , as described in chapters 1 ("the cohort dies like anyone else under seige") and chapter 20 ("the barracks siege").

What group is Hot Sauce in if she denounced BOE?

Hot Sauce specifically calls BOE "fat cats" and "zombie lovers" in chapter 15, after noting that she, Honesty, and Born in the Morning, as well as Born in the Morning's father, are "active" in with an unnamed group at the park. It is unclear what group that is, if it has a name, or if it is organized in any capacity. From what little we know, it appears it is a group of people who are more radical than BOE, which I think is either ex-BOE members that were pushed out for their radial choices/beliefs, or civilians/other freedom fighters that aren't satisfied with what BOE is doing. But beyond that I have no idea

BOE wing names vs New Rho?

So BOE wings are named after historic Earth cities. Ctesiphon, Troia, Merv, Valencia (which is not historic to us, as it exists today, but WOULD be history in 10k years). They are named by BOE, likely to keep connection to Earth, just like BOE people-names. "New Rho", on the other hand, is likely named by the House. Rhodes is a place on the 7th house (see: 7th cavalier is the "Knight of Rhodes"), and I assumed that New Rho was like. The house naming shit. Like how New York is named after York in England, even though that area of land already had a name (Lenapehoking, I think?).

Specifically this difference is important because like, the House is a imperial colonizing force here, and they are naming things after their home system as a part of the imperial violence they are enacting. In As Yet Unsent, Judith notes that the non-house people call New Rho, "Lemuria" -- HOWEVER, in NtN chapter 17, the Angel mentions Lemuria twice in a way that is phrased like Lemuria is Somewhere else, and is Not the city they are in right now ("I was born on Lemuria", "there's still a facility on Lemuria") I am not sure what happened there, honestly. Perhaps an oopsie?

Where does the Empire want non house humanity to end up?

Unclear. Coronabeth notes in As Yet Unsent that even she (who has studied the war in-universe) has no idea what the real goal is. My guess is nowhere, because a forever-war has no end goal. It's a war for resources gained only by literal blood and death. Many analysis could be made about this as an allegory to to oil based forever-wars of today -- I read a few of them and as said before unfortunately failed to tag them, so if anyone has a link and can share with anon that would be awesome! But anyway, I do not think I am smart or learned enough to say a lot beyond this but, yeah. I think there is no end goal to the war besides meaningless revenge and the resources gained via murder, because that's the point. We could learn different in AtN tho! who knows

How many settled planets?

No idea! Thousands. Hundreds of thousands? Hundreds? Unsure! 10k years is a long time, and there are a lot of planets out there in the fantasy universe that could be habitable. EDIT ty @eskildit, unclear how many planets were settled over the course of the Empire, but there are three settled planets by the timeline of NtN: ""Everyone was crammed on one of three planets now, and they all agreed that this planet was easily the worst", from chapter 2

Thanks for sending this!! I really enjoyed answering it, and I hope it helped -- sorry if I missed any. Ask more any time!!

#new rho #nona the ninth #HOPE I DIDNT MISS ANYTHING #TLT META #the locked tomb #this took like 2 hours BUT i was smart and typed it in a google doc so i didn't have #a situation where i misclicked and lost it all. i have LEARNED #tlt thoughts #anon #ask #long post #yayyy

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ohlawdthebirds · 2 months

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Truth or Dare (Vi x Reader)

Euughh, its been a while since I've posted a fic. Enjoy! This is a modern au inspired by those Cut 'truth or drink' videos.

Cw: Mild mention of drinking (swapped out the alc for juice, so hopefully that's not a trigger for anyone). Other than that, slight violence mention.

Also! Thank you to @pixievi for these links!

Gonna tag a few of my mutuals here because I think they'd enjoy this (I hope that's okay! Please let me know if not and I'll remove you from the list!): @sweetercalypso @xthescarletbitch @vvynia @kittyt-hexxed @ellsss

“So, do you know why you’re here?”

You can just barely make out the person standing behind the camera. The build of the camera blocks off most of their face and for a moment it creeps you out; being in this sterile warehouse, sitting at a table with your best friend across from you has you briefly wondering just what Vi is cooking up. The two of you often joked about being put in Saw traps but you weren’t entirely sure you’d be willing to part with your organs and appendages should the occasion call for it.

“Ah, I think so,” you say. Vi turns to you, gently nudging your foot under the table. You recognize the gesture immediately: it was something the two of you did when you were younger and wanted to check in on the other. In this case, the nudge meant Are you okay? We can go if you need to. You nudge her foot back twice, your way of saying I’m okay.

“I’m here to do truth or drink, best friends edition. At least, that’s what she told me,” You reply, gesturing at Vi. She ducks her head, cheeks visibly coloring. The person behind the camera, someone you now suspected was the producer, speaks up once more.

“Okay then, you two can get started with a shot if you want.”

Vi grabs an unlabeled bottle and fills up both shot glasses before nudging yours towards your awaiting fingers. You bring the glass up, clinking it with Vi’s, before bringing it to your mouth. You are surprised when sweet juice instead of alcohol hits your tongue. Vi peeks out at you from under her fringe, a gentle smile gracing her lips. She knew you were trying to cut back on your alcohol intake, so knowing that she asked for an alternative warmed your heart. Vi sets her shot glass down and reaches out to the middle of the table, selecting a card from the stack. She leans back in her seat, huffing out a soft laugh.

“How did we meet?” She places the card down and looks at you expectantly. You grin, sitting up straighter in your seat.

“Okay so we went to the same high school, right? Vi had an…interesting haircut,” Vi barks out a laugh at this while you try (and fail) to suppress your chuckling, “Yeah, it was like…like someone threw scissors at her head and hoped for the best. It was like the unholy merging of a slick back, a pixie cut, and a fuck ass bob.” You barely finish your sentence as laughter wracks your body. Vi’s bark turns into a howl that you soon join. As soon as your laughter dies down, you continue, “This group of boys came up to her during lunch one day and were making fun of her. I stepped in and was telling them to leave her alone when she jumps out of her seat and absolutely socks this guy in his face! He falls, his friends jump in to try and defend his honor, and next thing you know it’s me and her against these dudes. It was brutal I tell you. They lost and ended up transferring schools and Vi and I were sacked with in-school suspension for a week. It was glorious.”

You reach out to grab a card. “What is your favorite feature of mine? Can be physical or personality-wise,” you place the card down and sit back. Vi leans her elbows onto the table, eyes meeting yours. “You have gorgeous eyes,” she says, “They’re so expressive, and I love the way they light up whenever you’re happy or excited. It’s one of the things that drew me to you back in high school. You were so bright and fiery, and the way you jumped in to help me with no hesitation has always amazed me.”

Your hands come up to rest on your heated cheeks. She leans forward once more to select a card off the pile. “Didn’t expect you to do two of them,” you giggle out. Vi feigns shock, replying “Ah, my bad, didn’t even realize it.” But the glint in her eyes tells you she absolutely meant every word.

“What are my green flags?” Vi drops the card back down to the table. You fold your hands under your chin and lean against them.

“You’re one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. And I don’t just mean physically, I mean emotionally as well. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you genuinely scared. And it’s not like you don’t get scared, but you’re usually so on top of things, y’know?”

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely on top of things,” Vi smirks. You don’t bother holding back a grin. “But yeah, you make me want to be stronger. I want you to be able to rely on me the way I’m able to lean on you.” The blush on Vi’s cheeks only deepens. You lean forward once more to grab a card from the table.

“How good are you at kissing?” This time you don’t fully put the card down, instead twiddling and fidgeting with it. Vi chews on her bottom lip for a second before her eyes lock with yours. You expect to see her signature smirk on her face once again, but you’re surprised by the sincerity in her eyes. Vi thinks for a moment before reaching over to the bottles and pouring herself a shot. Your eyes widen with mirth.

“Oh, not going to tell me?” you grin.

Vi pauses for a moment before looking at you over the top of her shot glass. “You can always find out for yourself, you know,” she says before knocking back the drink. You gape at her, astonished, and not for the first time you wonder what Vi’s lips would feel like on yours. It’s been a reoccurring thought ever since high school, one that you’d tried to brush off time and time again. Years of friendship between the two of you had culminated in you developing an intense crush on Vi. There were numerous moments over the years where you thought about confessing to her, but something always stopped you. Whether it was you fearing the potential end of your friendship, or someone literally interrupting you, you were never able to tell Vi how you truly felt.

“Alright, so as you can see, there is only one card left on the table. Vi, that one is yours. Make sure you read it out loud and clear, okay?” The producer chirps out. Vi tenses before reaching out and sliding the card to herself. She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before flipping it over.

“I, um…so, this last card is daring me to tell you the real reason you’re here.” You quirk an eyebrow. Vi continues, “I didn’t bring you here just because you’re my best friend.”

Your heartbeat picks up and for a moment you worry it will pound right out of your chest.

“I brought you here to tell you…that I have a crush on you,” Vi said, her lips curving into a sheepish grin. For a moment, the world goes still, and you wonder if you’re dreaming. You cough out a “What?”, eyes fixated on the woman in front of you. “You have a crush on me?”

Vi nods. “Ever since that day in high school you’ve been it for me. I know this has been a long time coming, but I could never find the right time to tell you.”

“I could never find the right time to tell you!” You exclaim. “All this time, all these years, you mean to tell me we were both crushing on each other?”

Your hands cover your face as you let out a groan that soon evaporates into a laugh. Vi joins you with a laugh of her own. The absurdity of it all is hilarious to you: of the woman you’ve been crushing on for years not only reciprocating your feelings but going to the trouble of dragging you into a video to confess said feelings.

Once your laughter has subsided, you and Vi are left gazing at each other. “Well, at least we finally know we’re on the same page,” she says. You nod, attempting (and failing) to hold back a grin.

“Alright, so you guys clearly feel the same for each other!” The producer says. You hear the mischief in their voice and brace yourself for what’s coming. “You guys should definitely seal the deal, y’know?”

“H-how do you suppose we do that?” You stutter out.

“You could always seal things with a kiss!”

The heat on your cheeks only flares hotter. Vi’s own face is searing by this point. There’s no way you could kiss her! And in front of a camera no less! But at the same time you wonder if this is the only chance you have, if the adrenaline coursing through you was enough to propel you forward. Just when you were internally making a pros and cons list (the pro being to kiss your best friend and the con being potential ridicule from internet strangers) Vi nudges your foot under the table. Are you okay with this?

Only a moment later do you nudge back twice: I’m okay with it. I’m really okay with it.

With a surge of courage, you sit up in your seat and lean forward. Vi follows suit, meeting you in the middle of the table. It only takes a moment for your lips to meet.

You grin into the kiss, tilting your head just the slightest to deepen it. Vi’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. Your hand reaches up to rest on it and it’s only when the producer and crew begin clapping and cheering do the two of you separate.

The two of you are beaming harder than you thought possible, and everything feels limitless. Despite having no alcohol in your system, you feel fuzzy and warm. Vi sneaks in one last peck to your lips before you sit down. Once things calm down and you’re seated the producer speaks up one last time.

“We actually have one bonus card for you two.” A crew member steps forward and lays a card down in front of Vi. Her brows furrow in confusion but she picks it up nonetheless and reads it. A tiny smile graces her lips as she sets the card down, reaching across the table to place her hands on yours. “Will you go on a date with me?”

You gently clasp your hands with hers, bringing them up to place a kiss on the backs of them. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Vi.”

A few weeks after filming, you and Vi are notified that your video was live on the channel. You pull it up on your laptop and snuggle next to your girlfriend on her couch. Vi snorts and laughs the whole way through it while you hide behind your hands and join in her laughter. The comments are surprisingly wonderful, everything from people cooing over how cute the two of you are, to others lamenting over being single. Every last one of them brings a smile to your face. And as Vi keeps clicking through and pointing out the funniest ones, you lean into her side, pressing kisses to her skin.

“Hey love?”

“Yeah?” She asks.

“I’m really glad you brought us on a random YouTube video.”

Vi turns and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Me too.”

#arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi arcane #dude. you have no idea how long it took me to shake this fic out of my brain. good heavens.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for kicking someone from my server and not explaining why?

(emojis so I can find later: 🪨🪨🪨)

[This happened a few years ago, but I’ll write the ages as they were at the time.]

I (14M) made a server for a fandom I was in. It was a small fandom (I was mutuals with every single fan on tumblr) so I thought it’d be nice to have a place we can all talk other than the tumblr dashboard. This was also not my first server — I had 2 or 3 years of experience running them (having run a server with 100ish members a year or two beforehand) so I was fully confident in my ability to run a server with less than 20 people, especially since everyone knew each other and was friends already.

Now, there was this person in the server, we’ll call her B (16F). I wasn’t super close with her, but ofc I was friends with her through the fandom. We didn’t talk much — the only time I can recall us speaking outside of discord was to send fandom art requests to each other. Obviously I didn’t have a problem with her coming in, but as she spoke more in my server, I started to question whether she was somebody I wanted hanging around.

I won’t go into full depth of things she said or did (both for privacy’s sake and to keep things brief), but I’ll explain my biggest reasons for kicking her.

First, she vented a lot, which typically I wouldn’t judge, but I really didn’t want a fandom server associated with so much negativity — and not only that, but the way she vented was very… I mean, we would be telling her things she did wrong in general channels, and then she would go to the vent channel and say things like “I’m sorry I’m so stupid and such a bad person I didn’t know what I was doing wrong.” and then we’d (well, everybody else — I don’t play these games with people) all have to console her. Not only that, but she’d vent about shit like — “I’m such a bad person because I’m cis. I’m sorry for being cis.” In a server full of trans people.

Second was her ableism towards autistic people, in a server also full of autistic people (This is honestly the biggest thing I had against her). Since most of us were autistic, we headcanoned most (if not all) of the characters in the series as autistic, usually with little basis in canon. One person specifically said “I think X character is autistic” and most people agreed, until she came along and said “No, they’re too normal.” We were all kind of like “???” until somebody said “Autistic people are normal” and she said “No, they’re all learning disabled” and some other stuff I don’t remember off the top of my head. (Obviously nothing wrong with having learning disabilities and many autistic people do have them etc, it’s just the way she went about saying what she said — and also disagreeing with a harmless headcanon because a character was too “normal” to be autistic). Again, most of us are autistic and were offended by what she said.

These were the two biggest contributors as to why I kicked her from my server — there were more (usually smaller) things she did that made people uncomfortable or pissed me off, but again, I’m not going to mention everything.

So, I silently kicked her, not wanting to cause too much drama, but also fed up with her behavior. I think I also softblocked her on tumblr, not wanting us to be mutuals or friends anymore but also not seeing a block as necessary (I didn’t mind if she saw my fandom posts in the tag, for example). However, she ended up following me back and sent me an ask asking why she was kicked from the server. I believe I told her “I don’t owe you an explanation, I just didn’t want you there anymore”. I didn’t want to say “you did this, this, and this” and just have her say “I didn’t do that/That wasn’t a big deal” and turn it into an entire argument, you know? I also just didn’t want to talk to her at all. So after answering, I softblocked her again and she sent me a long rant calling me a bitch, to which I simply hardblocked her.

I’m pretty sure I was justified in kicking her from my server, but I’m not sure if I’m justified in not telling her why — I understand being confused and demanding an answer but I also know she’d been told off multiple times — and I still don’t think she’s owed a response. Maybe if we were closer friends, I would have explained why. But I don’t know. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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themadlu · 2 months

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A Simple Thing – Pt. 2

Astarion doesn't know how to navigate love, not when it's so real and alive. His fears are still clawing at him, and he still doesn't understand fully why Zélie chose him.

Luckily, she is set on making her sassy elf understand she isn't going anywhere without him. And what better place for starcrossed lovers to tend to each other, than a warm bath?

TW: nudity, mentions of sex. This one is mostly angsty fluff.

WC: ~4.4K

Read Part 1 here!

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird (thanks for beta reading!), @amywritesthings

In his frantic state, it takes a beat too long for Astarion to realise that the tremors have rippled from his hands to his arms and jaw. Long enough that even Zélie, imperceptive as she is to such inconsequential little things, has noticed them.

(He’ll never get used to seeing her worrying about him. To how utterly confusing it is, her accepting him so wholly, so completely, that the very sight of his distress pains her. He doesn’t have the strength to hate her for making him so reliant on her, not anymore. The spite that made him what he is cowers like a rabid dog when she’s close, and she is always close, in his mind if not in reality.)

Zélie lets out an exhale, looking briefly at the ceiling before training her eyes on his. Centuries worth of insecurities are on full display in his red irises, and it is all her fault—she ripped his practised masks off him, mercilessly, one by one, to unearth the corpse that lay underneath.

You should have known better, silly love.

Her pale eyes are assessing him, studying every inch of his face and body. She must have found what she was looking for because he recognises that unexpected, precious softness in them, wider, kinder, welcoming him in.

(They used to be so inscrutable at first.)

Astarion’s pointy ears perk up in attention when Zélie suddenly speaks. “Come with me,” she says, then she…winks before turning her back to him.

What the hells is that?!

They have lived and fought (and slept) together, first side by side, then in each other’s arms, and this is the first time in all their travels that his ever-serious woman winks. Children do that in secret mocking; harlots do that to attract customers—he knows because he often did so himself.

He didn’t even think her face could do that. It makes her look young (Or just her age, he never knows with humans), free, happy even, and he can’t do anything else but stare and vow silently that she will stay free and content. He’ll do anything in his power to make it so.

“Come where?” he questions, but he doesn’t really care, not as long as she wants him with her.

A hand lifts in front of his face, so close he smells the dirt on it before seeing it and his nose wrinkles in horror. “Astarion? Come with me? Please.” Zélie is half facing him and Astarion finally takes notice that her whole little body is covered in something that smells foul. Disgusting. He can barely perceive the crisp scent he craves underneath all…that.

“What in the bloody hells is that, darling?! Did you fall into a pile of manure, perchance?”

Zélie’s forehead creases in the way it does when her patience is being stretched thin. He is proud to say he’s almost always the cause of it. He likes to think that he impacts her almost as much as she does him.

Deep down he knows he does, because she wouldn't be here with him now otherwise. She’d be with someone actually worthy of her, like generous, brave, perfect Wyll.

(That first jealousy has been smothered, but the damning embers remain.)

“Come where, he says? Oh, you know, I was thinking of going to one of those wine tasting events we saw in town the other day. Enjoy an elegant evening together as we sip on a delicious burgundy, discussing the current socio-economic woes of the city with its upper class. They would be ecstatic to reveal any valuable information to this,” she gesticulates at her mud-soaked clothes before tiredness deflates her a bit.

“I have heard sewer essence is the latest perfume craze in Baldur’s Gate lately,” her lips curve upward in a barely-there smile. “Though now that I think about it, it’s best if you keep your distance until I properly wash. I don’t even want to think about what deadly diseases I am exposed to right now.”

Astarion catches her outstretched hand before she can retract it. She’ll vanish if he doesn’t tether himself to her. He intertwines his fingers with hers, so that his ivory skin turns murky brown. Like hers.

“So I was right, love. You did fall into a pile of manure.”

His little saviour’s hand immediately relaxes in his (Another major source of pride, that he can elicit this response from her.), as he slowly, gently, brings it to his lips to press featherlight kisses on her abused knuckles. Gods, he’ll force her into an armour tomorrow. Gloves, at the very least.

(Maybe he’ll tie her to the bed, safe and warm and out of harm’s way, as he’s threatened to do before.)

“More like a whole river of it,” she confesses. “And mud. It appears that mephits and bhaalists have no hygiene standards.”

The elf grinds his teeth, fangs pricking his lower lip. What a complete disregard for his feelings, to put herself at risk, the very being that gave him life anew. In his irritation, he cannot stop himself from pulling her body against his to ask the question burning on his tongue.

“I wouldn’t know, darling. I was not allowed the pleasure to witness it with my own eyes,” his accusation borders on a whine. “How considerate of you, to leave me here in a clean bed while good old Gale is considered capable enough to offer his explosive services.”

The mocking tone is not enough to hide the fear in his voice.

(“Pathetic, prattling child. What a useless thing you are.”)

“Why did you leave me here?” he whispers it, but it sounds as threatening and desperate as the prayer of a convict seconds from execution.

“Because you looked tired.”

Simple. Straight to the point as always.

“Because I—what?” Astarion blinks at her as if she grew a second head. Him, tired? He is a newly freed vampire, he does not get tired. “I thought we discussed how I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions!”

Zélie straightens her posture, sighing in affectionate irritation. “Yes, Astarion, tired. Fatigued. Wary. Whichever term you prefer. I noticed you’ve been down, since…well, since all that happened with that twat.”

Astarion’s anxiety eases at the way his precious hero refuses to name Cazador. His captor is dust and she established firmly that complete oblivion will be the punishment for his crimes, for what he did to so many souls (What he did to him. She damns his master so, because of her love for him.) The elf is dazed by her unyielding devotion and the warmth spreading from her calloused hand into every part of him.

“Darling, I don’t know what you mean. I feel splendid! I’m free, finally, truly free. Thanks to you. With you!” He laughs in incredulity at the thought. “Only a couple of world-ending obstacles between us and the forever we deserve.”

Melancholy flashes through Zélie’s eyes. There won’t be a forever for them, not since she convinced him to renounce the Ascension. Even then, he knows she would have denied his offer of immortality. Astarion tenses, balling his free hand in a fist. Stubborn woman, refusing to understand. He will not lose her; he found her after centuries of unheard prayers, and he will not let something as trivial as mortality take her away from him.

(He will prove her wrong, this once. All the sacrifices they’ve made are worth nothing less than eternity.)

Zélie pulls him from his thoughts, shuffling a little on her feet with uncharacteristic shyness. “I was also afraid.” She confesses it as if it were a dirty secret, but Astarion is unsure why. If she fears something, that’s all the more reason to take him with her (As if his devotion alone could shield her from all harm.)

“After what happened at the mansion,” that. He remembers bits and pieces of his kidnapping, Petras’s sneers and Aurelia’s apologies, the darkness, being trapped and bruised and left naked in the kennels before—

A slave. Weak.

It makes sense, in hindsight, for her not to want—need—his protection in battle after what she saw. “Ah. My sweet, I—”

“I thought I lost you,” the words are barely voiced, but they ring like thunder in the vampire’s ears. “That can’t happen, you see. Astarion, I know it goes against what I’ve been taught and I know I am not one to show my feelings, and that is a strength until it becomes a weakness, especially with you. Because it appears I haven’t been clear enough: I don’t want to put you in danger anymore than necessary. Not now, nor after we’ll be done with all this bother.” She points at her temple while holding his gaze to ensure he understands.

He does and he does not.

Because he felt the same the closer they got to the city—his nice, simple plan falling apart spectacularly, backfiring even, as the dread of seeing his Zélie at Cazador’s mercy settled around him like grave chill.

(It’s too soon to realise it, but Astarion would take being under his master again over seeing his hero hurt. And now he knows she feels the same way about him, a cadaver.)

Astarion starts trembling again from joy, fear, relief and something he learnt to recognise as unbridled devotion for the creature in front of him. Zélie has no chance to react, not when his roguish reflexes have been boosted by days of actual rest (And by her own blood.) His lips crash into hers, fangs clashing on smaller teeth, the kiss of an inexperienced schoolboy, but he’s decided that the small space between them is more punishment than being buried alive.

“Oh, Astarion! The sewers,” he doesn’t care, not when she is here with him, safe and alive, not when he can smell her under all that mud.

I missed you, he thinks, half-mad with quelled worry.

“Don’t you dare leave me behind again, you utter moron,” he rasps between kisses.

Zélie lets out an entertained breath and nips at his upper lip lovingly before rubbing her bumpy nose against his. Astarion doesn’t pretend to breathe when he is with her anymore, not since she’s grown so stupidly comfortable with his vampiric nature, but the subtle affection radiating from her is so encompassing that his dead lungs expand in an involuntary gulp of air.

“Understood. Come then, sassy elf,” she murmurs. “I am in desperate need of a bath and now you are too,” she swipes at the mud on his face. His brave woman gently pulls him towards the wooden bathtub in the corner of the large room. “The others will come here soon after finishing their supper and there will be a…well, a bloodbath to decide who takes a bath first.”

Gods, what a terrible pun, as always. What a beautifully crooked smile at her own joke, as always.

The sight makes the elf giggle with wonder before he can stop himself.

(Once, Shadowheart dared to point out that Astarion and Zélie have a similar sense of humour. What nonsense. As if the Sharran knew what humour even is.)

“Astarion?” Zélie’s voice snaps him from his musings. The bath is filled with steaming water and her skin’s flushed with the heat under all that dirt. She looks at him, waits for him to decide what he wants to (He’d have to be fully dead not to join her.) He commits the sight before him to eternal memory, in the scraps of his soul that belong to her now.

“Oh, you need to feed as well. It’s already been a couple days.”

I still can’t believe you are real. Mine. All mine.

“Come here, darling. Let me wash you first, gods know you need it,” he says in half-mocking. His solemn lover steps closer, trusting him always, and he unbuttons her blouse and trousers first, then takes off her smallclothes, all thoroughly soaked with disgusting mud. She stands naked before him as if it were the most normal thing in the world, to be bare in close quarters with a vampire.

(Home. She feels like home. She is safe with him.)

Only the light specks of pink on her cheeks betrays her, a telltale sign this unguarded version of her is only for him. It makes him want to fall to his knees in prayer and shake her for naivety at the same time.

The warmth of her body leaves him as she walks to the bath and submerges herself. By the time he gathers himself on a stool near her, the water is already murky brown. Ugh. He has never seen that much dirt on her, not even in the wilds of the Grove. “Stay still darling and let me turn you back into a human,” he coos, soap in hand, leathering her shoulders, arms, breasts, every part of the person he cherishes most of all.

Bruises appear as the mud is scrubbed away. A large, purple patch on the right side of her ribcage, a smaller one on her clavicle. Anxiety bubbles up again and he has to say something (To prattle.) or else he’ll go insane. “Are you telling me that the others went straight to dinner looking like oversized dungs, my sweet?” Zélie almost chokes on a scandalised laugh, sending him a chastising glare. “I am the only ‘breathing dung’ here, thank you very much. They were not as unlucky, so they won’t empty the tavern with their stench.”

But of course they weren’t. I’ll drain them dry, balance the scales.

Tiredness seeps off his brave leader and Astarion is still astounded at how easily she lets him take her worries away, if just for a moment. Only he can do that, with the smallest of things: a quip, a laugh, an innocent touch, just by being himself, whatever that means. She sees him like he matters (He does, to her.) and he will do anything not to lose that. He’s the strongest and weakest he’s ever been.

A newly-clean, calloused finger softly traces his cheekbone. “Where are you, Astarion? Would you rather wait for me outside?”

No!

“No! No, my love. I am exactly where I want to be.” He tries to be suave, but comes off as pathetic, like a babe who won’t leave his mother’s shadow.

Zélie’s stare hardens. “Stop that,” his face fits perfectly in her small hands, reverent touches that make him exhale a rough breath. “You are the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. You will drive me to an early death with stress, but!” She interrupts him as he is about to protest, overt displays of emotion rare and difficult to articulate for her. “I wouldn’t change it for anything else. You are loved. You are you. And you will see your own, infinite worth one day. How was it? Cross my heart and hope to—uhmp!.”

His body moves before his mind fully processes her words. No one has ever had a kind word for him, and here this impossible creature stands, worshipping him, a corpse, a whore, and she must know how he will not have her mention her death, not even in jest, because it won’t happen, he won’t let it and he’s kissing her, hard, and he won’t lose her now she finally found him—

He falls in the bathtub, entangled with his lover and laughing like a madman. “Astarion! Ouh, what are you doing?! Your clothes!”

“I honestly couldn’t care less, darling,” he croaks. Astarion is soaked in disgusting water, his camp clothes are ruined, Zélie’s already messy hair is a sopping mess and the oils he poured in the tub are not enough to disguise the sewer smell. He’s so, so, so utterly content. He commits all the minute details of it to memory. The more he knows her, the more he loves her, the more she chases his nightmares away; one day, his reveries will consist entirely of her. Them.

“All right, all right, you mad elf, let me at least change the water before we both die of some horrid infection,” Zélie concedes in half-mock exasperation. He grins like a child, toothy, fangs on display. Ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. “Vampire, darling. Infections are a thing of the past.”

She looks at him still sitting in the receding water as if he were the most precious thing she ever saw. “Good for you. Alas,” she pulls at her round ears. “Human. Let’s not test my luck, mhm?” He giggles like a fool while pouring oils in the freshly drawn bath.

His darling woman shifts closer, warm and intoxicating. “May I?” She points at his clothes. Astarion’s lips part in pleased surprise. She wouldn’t touch him at all if she could help the first few tendays, and even after things changed between them she’s still been hesitant. It annoys him and endears him to no end. “You can keep them on if you prefer, of course.”

“No, love. I’d much rather you freed me of these yourself,” he whispers, leaning into her before settling back in an alluring pose that worked oh-so-well with his targets. She just rolls her eyes, but the tinge of pink dust on her cheeks is back in full-force when she starts undoing his shirt’s buttons.

Impossible woman, do you not know what you do to me?

Slowly, one by one, the buttons are freed, her fingers leaving scorching little touches on his skin. He wants to burn for her. Shirt discarded on the floor, she unlaces breeches that have gone uncomfortably tight at this point, and Astarion lets out a relieved moan once his erection is freed. He pays it no mind; she’s looking at him, all of him, and she’s made him come accidentally with less before, but she is exhausted and bruised, and unlike those useless companions they have, he wants her to fucking rest. To make himself useful without expecting anything in return.

(She gave him everything already.)

“Come here, oh!” Zélie starts to speak, but Astarion takes her by the waist so her back is against his chest and she’s is his arms. He is sure she can feel how hard he is and he knows what it does to her, ears red from an adorable mixture of embarrassment and desire. It doesn’t matter, because the second he starts massaging her scalp with oils, she melts into him so perfectly they must have been the same being once, when life was new. There was no other explanation to the certainty of belonging in his chest. “You know, I may get used to this,” she murmurs as she twists her face up to stare at him.

I hope you do, is what he thinks.

He wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of time. “Ugh, we’ll see if the cuddly mood strikes me again, darling,” is what he says. He’s never felt safer than when she’s with him, but true vulnerability will take time to build. And patience. She has enough of the latter, and he will take care of the former. He takes her chin in his hand, brushing his thumb against her wet cheekbone. “It’s nice to see it’s really you, my dear, under all that filth.” The pale elf is almost done cleaning his lover and is thinking of a way to keep her there with him (She is always so awfully practical, even baths follow a military regimen.), when she turns to face him, straddling his legs.

Unpleasant memories shadow his mind for a moment, before she lifts his chin with her index finger, forcing him to look at her. Astarion realises she is keeping away from his sensitive areas, sitting towards his knees, soap in hand. “My turn, if I may?” Oh. She wants to help him bathe, too. He is still not used to Zélie asking for permission to a spawn as thoroughly used as him, but he lets his face fall into the crook of her neck to hide the blush on his cheeks (He can’t hide how much harder her consideration makes him.) “All yours, love,” he mumbles, meaning it. It’s her fingers in his curls now, tugging gently to undo stubborn knots, and he has to remind himself that this is real, she is real, not a figment of a slave-addled mind. He gasps softly and swells when his hero takes the tip of his ears between her index and thumb, down to his earlobes before stopping at his neck.

“Love, ask if you can touch me again and I swear I’ll go insane,” Astarion pants in her neck. “I want you to touch me.”

Only you.

Zélie huffs, “Message received.” She places her palms on his neck, his back, and the world spins when she massages the wretched bite mark and cuts that mar it. Astarion tenses, he can’t help it, but if anyone can give new meaning to those scars, it is his little saviour. He inhales her scent to relax, the crispness of her skin and the sweetness of her blood peeking through the layers of soap and oils. He adores her natural smell, more so than her blood, delectable as it is. His sanguine taste is a collateral of his unwanted condition, something he had no say nor choice in. Her scent, he is sure, he would have loved as a mortal elf–it’s fresh, subtle, sensible. It’s her, and he smiles widely when he detects a note of rosemary and bergamot in it, just as he delights in smelling her on his own skin. All his. All hers. A claim, as obvious as the fang marks on her neck.

He must have left one too many kisses on the healed wound, because Zélie puts her lips to his ear, “If you’re hungry, you can eat.” Astarion is always hungry, another shackle that will come back full force once the tadpoles are removed, but he is starving for her. Zélie hates being bitten (Silly woman, terrified of needles and in love with a vampire.) It makes her blood even more of a gift.

“Really, darling? Here?” he asks to distract her, and bites her. “Ouch! You annoying elf!” She whisper-shouts while he traces wide circles in her back to help her relax. Astarion decides that if this is the only heaven he’ll ever know, the gods can rot for all he cares. He has all he wants.

When he is done, he licks every single drop of blood and rinses the wound with clean water. “There. All better.” Zélie is still in his lap, and she bumps her nose against his lightly, affectionately. The bath is cooling now. “Thank you, Zelie.”

She raises her eyebrows in question. “Oh? What have I done now to deserve you saying my name?” That’s it. Astarion will have her until all she knows and feels is him. He dives on his precious woman again, giggling into her lips, when a loud crash and grunt comes from the entrance of the room and Zelie breaks the kiss in alarm.

Astarion curses himself for having left his daggers in his pack, using his undead reflexes to stand in front of Zelie, fangs bared. Useless idiot. If it’s Orin, or one of her followers, there won’t be much he can do besides giving his love time to escape (As if she’d ever let him face any danger on his own, mad woman.) “Astarion, wait! It’s just Lae’zel.”

“I require washing. I’ll be merciful and give you two seconds to vacate the tub. Do not try me!”

If Lae’zel were not as useful in battle, Astarion would slit her throat, because how dare she interrupt—

He startles when a clean, blue shirt drapes over his shoulders; Zélie stands next to him, already dried and half dressed (How did she manage that?!). The perfume on the garment tells him it’s one of her camp shirts. He wouldn’t admit it, not yet, but he rests infinitely better when wearing something of hers. It fits him fine—pillaging fallen enemies doesn’t allow the luxury of picking the correct size for their clothes.

“Make yourself scarce for a while, Gith!” He shouts as he gets dressed, and narrowly avoids a flower pot aimed for his head. Astarion is wondering yet again what Gith blood tastes like when Zélie firmly cradles his face, utters a “Behave,” and kisses him as if air were optional for her too.

Fine. He’ll behave this once.

Lae’zel’s presence fades away as all he can perceive is his hero clutching him like he’ll disappear. As if it were that easy to get rid of him.

He clings to her red blouse—one of his, he thinks with pride—and when she breaks the kiss to breathe he hoists her up, her legs tangling around his slender waist instinctively. His nose tickles as her mad curls, free from their braids, are all over his face.

Gods, she’s beautiful.

“That’s it! Out!” Lae’zel bellows while pointing her sword at them, mud crusted all over the blade. “The puny vampire has thwarted you, Zélie. I expected better from you. Now, leave!”

Oh for hells' sa—

“So sorry, Lae’zel, we’re out! Have a nice bath.” Zélie is still perched on him as he pads to her bed. They have been sleeping separately since getting to Elfsong. He hates it; would she see him as overbearing if he asked—

“Sleep together?” Her little smile is so sincere and uncharacteristic that he drops her on the mattress, immediately laying on top of her.

Yes.

“Why, darling, do you miss me?” he grins. Say yes, please.

“Of course. You’re too far now. I can’t fall asleep to your soft, sweet snores anymore.”

Something in his chest unravels, even as he threatens her to make her pay for this insult to his beautiful self.

“Astarion?”

“Mhm?”

“Bring your blanket, if you want.”

If he had met her when he was still mortal, if he had been a better person back then (More deserving), he would have mocked her righteousness and then married her in an instant. He knows. The hero of his dreams, packed in an impossible, stubborn, overly-honourable woman. Astarion would have still outlived her, but he would have had the certainty he would go find her, in the afterlife. He had a habit of taking the road less travelled, after all.

Now, soulless, beaten husk of a thing that he is, he vows to hold on to her until all time ends and stars fade. Even after he will be no more, when new worlds are born, the memory of them will remain.

#astarion x oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #oc: zelie #bg3 oc #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bathtime #thank you lae'zel for being a cockblock

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