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tripleyeeet · 6 months

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ONLY FOOLS FALL

SUMMARY: Upon arriving in Baldur's Gate, Zayis decides to pay her old flame a visit... much to Astarion's dismay.

PAIRING: Astarion & Zayis (OFC)

WORD COUNT: 12,356

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, penetrative sex, teasing, blood sucking as a form of foreplay (therefore mentions of blood), feelings realized, first confessions, angst with a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been months of brainstorming this particular scene and the build up that goes along with it, but I think I finally got it. For context, Vesryn is Zay's sort of ex who she never properly breaks up with due to getting kidnapped.

I know this chapter is a bit of a doozy but please, if you at all like my writing I beg you to give this one a shot. It's probably one of my favourite things I've written and I'm very proud of it. :')

Also shout out to @novarunestone specifically for helping my brain push through. You're the best, dude. <3

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

She’s at his door before she can even think to leave, rapping her knuckles against the grain —trying her best to swallow down the knot that resides in her throat. Pushing against the walls of her esophagus, she can feel the obstruction blocking her airway.

Forcing a heavy sigh to escape as she reaches up to touch it, she can’t help but wonder if this is her body’s way of enacting guilt. Considering her mind’s already jumbled up enough as it is, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was. She did throw a knife at her partner’s head for Gods’ sake, so the least she could do is feel the events of her shitty behaviour. That and to properly apologize. Which is ultimately why she’s here, standing in front of her old home, running her fingers nervously along the length of her neck.

As it swells with anticipation she can feel her chest tighten and her hands begin to sweat. Each symptom growing the longer she stands there, waiting; wondering whether or not he’ll answer the door.

Deep down, there’s a part of her that hopes he doesn't. A part that screams for her to turn on her heel and dash back to camp without even looking back. A part that thinks the unspoken word between two separating parties is more than enough closure to get her through. It’d certainly be the easier option, right? The one with less baggage. Perhaps if she could just accept that she’s still that same asshole that left all those weeks ago rather than the better person she’s currently trying to be she could just pretend like she never knocked on the door in the first place. Up and leave and never speak of this again.

Biting her bottom lip in annoyance, she knows she can’t. Thanks to Wyll and his stupidly decent advice, she’s too far gone with this whole making amends thing. Having promised the warlock she’d at least try to apologize, the mere thought of failing makes her want to crawl all the way to Avernus and never let another soul see her face again. Either that or hole up in the woods somewhere. Whatever happens first, really.

However, considering the more likely option being Avernus, she continues to stand there, idly scratching the side of her neck, feeling the ends of her claws dig through her dirtied flesh.

Almost immediately, the feeling of it makes her cringe and drop her hand, realizing just how stupid she must look, covered head to toe in dirt. Reeking heavily of sweat and viscera —two scents you definitely don’t want to bring home when you’re about to beg for forgiveness for apparently running away with a vampire.

Which obviously isn’t the case. Or, at least wasn’t. Nowadays she’s not quite sure what to think about that whole situation. So most of the time she just blocks it out entirely. Ignoring the fact that the line that was once drawn between her and Astarion has begun to blur into something new.

Something she has to apologize for otherwise the guilt might eat her alive. So, she bangs on the door again, this time using the edge of her fist to repeatedly slam against the wood, gritting her teeth in frustration. All while praying to whatever God might be listening that for once, instead of fighting, Vesryn just accepts her apology.

Because truthfully, she’s not sure she can take the rejection right now. Not even when she hears him grumbling on the other side of the door, making her realize she’s still pounding against it. Her hand repeatedly colliding until it’s eventually torn from her grasp and the man she once called her partner is standing before her.

“Zay?”

He looks older somehow. Worn out. With eyes that were once large, round orbs of obsidian are now narrowed and soaked in age. A newfound darkness cradling each one with exhaustion.

Pressing her lips together she nods her head at the sound of his voice and continues to stare, taking in all his features. Picking apart the way his face twists from confusion to annoyance, ultimately falling on something unfamiliar that eventually disappears inside the crook of her neck.

“You’re alive.”

He says it as if it’s a question. Whispering it against the shell of her ear, she barely hears it at first. Too shocked to process the position that she’s currently in, all she can do is stand there and try to repeat the phrase in her head. Allowing the individual sounds to fully absorb before she’s nodding her head again. “Hi, uh, yeah.”

He pulls away, still resting his hands on her arms. “You escaped.”

Suddenly confused, she raises a brow, watching his expression change again —this time back to annoyance, prompting her to realize what he means. “Um, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What do you mean not exactly?”

She opens her mouth to respond before closing it back up again, unsure how to explain the events she’s recently experienced without completely freaking him out.

“Can I maybe come inside? We should probably talk.”

At first, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just stands there, staring. His mind most likely reeling from the fact that his ex is now standing at his doorstep in the middle of the night, covered in shit, most likely preparing to tell him that the man she left with is still very much in the picture.

None of which bodes well for her ever-growing fear of rejection. Especially considering that if the roles were reversed, she’d already be slamming the door in his face, telling him to piss off. So the fact that he hasn’t done that already feels like a bit of a miracle. One that continues to bless her once he eventually pulls away, motioning towards the inside of the house with a tired sigh.

Awkwardly, she smiles in response and enters, taking in the familiar scenery. Feeling its presence hit her like a ton of bricks as she forces herself further inside, ignoring that knot again. Pushing whatever anxieties that spread through her in order to move to the dining room table and pull up a chair.

“I’m sure you have a ton of questions…”

Trailing off, she lets out a nervous laugh and begins to play with the end of her tail. All the while Vesryn just stands at the other end of the table, looking down at her like with such empty eyes that she can’t help but clear her throat and pivot. Opting to just ramble instead of waiting for an answer, knowing deep down he might not give her one.

“First off, I need you to know I didn’t leave willingly.”

His brow quirks up at that. An air of interest coating his features, urging him to take a seat. “That’s an awfully vague way to start a story.”

“I mean, I’m not trying to be vague,” she replies, suppressing the desire to roll her eyes. “Honestly, I just —I don’t really know how to explain what’s happened.”

“You don’t know how or you just don’t want to?”

“Both, I suppose.”

All he does is snort and raise his hands to his face, dragging them down until they’re resting over his mouth, showcasing his never-ending lack of patience. “You’re aware of how late it is, right?”

This time she does roll her eyes. “My apologies sir, I didn’t realize I was being such a burden. Do you want me to go?”

Out of habit she then goes to stand, prompting Vesryn to angrily grip her wrist. “Oh for fuck’s sake —would you please just sit down and tell me where you’ve been?”

Equally as angry, she swears at him under her breath before crossing her arms over her chest. Using the pressure to subdue the need to panic as she tries to collect her thoughts before ultimately ending up with, “Astarion and I were kidnapped.”

Almost immediately she can see the lack of interest in his eyes begin to develop. How they quickly start to glaze over at the mention of Astarion’s name, reminding her just how unenthusiastic he is to hear about him alongside what he assumes is some sort of excuse.

“Obviously, the details are a bit complicated but the gist of it is that we were taken by mind flayers and now we’re trying to find a cure,” she tells him, but again, all he does is stare, his gaze set directly against her’s —devoid of anything other than disinterest and doubt.

Once again, it makes her want to leave. To repeat time and storm out like she did all those weeks ago. As terrible as it sounds, she knows it’d at least get his attention. Maybe even stir him enough to actually listen to what she has to say without immediately discrediting the truth.

“We met others on the ship. People infected like us. They’re in danger, Ves. I’m in danger.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“Not like this,” she tells him, swallowing hard. “Things are different. Bigger.”

He lets out a sigh. “Define big.”

“The whole city going up in flames big.”

Shifting in his chair, she can tell he’s trying his best not to say what he really wants to. An act that simultaneously fills her with rage and relief as she watches him mull over her words, allowing them to fully sink in before humming in response.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Explain to me how exactly you’re in danger?”

Before she can even stop herself, Zayis is telling him everything. Relaying each point of the plot through nervous thoughts and shaking hands. Trying her best to allow enough time in between the more convoluted sections to really process the severity.

And at first, it’s a struggle. Considering Vesryn’s almost as stubborn as she is, she can tell right off the bat it’s hard for him to accept. After having been convinced of this completely different narrative for so long, she can see it in his eyes he’s struggling to trust what she’s saying. To take all the outlandish things she’s relaying at face value after all the grief she’s put him through.

But then about halfway through she notices the switch. That subtle moment of realization taking over, forcing him to listen. To hear all the stressors of the last few weeks repeatedly piling on top of her. To understand that the night she left without a trace wasn’t just the result of a conscious choice she had made but rather a mistake in location at the worst possible time.

By the end of it, he’s got his arms across his chest, one of them angled up so that he can stroke his chin in bewilderment. “Gods, you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head.

In response, all Zayis does is shoot him a tight-lipped smile. One that feels so misplaced that it ends up falling almost immediately. “I just thought you should know, you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I didn’t walk out on you,” she admits, her throat aching from the explanation. “That I still care about you in some way.”

It’s at that point she can tell that Vesryn knows. Written plain as day across his face, she can feel it in her chest, too. Pounding against her already damaged frame. Echoing through the edges of her organs, causing them to twist in discomfort.

Considering he’s always been a pretty intuitive guy, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her but still, the second he eventually lets out a huff and awkwardly grins to himself, she can’t help but feel the guilt double in size. Triple even, watching the way he looks around the room, avoiding her pleading eyes.

“Somehow I always knew,” he says, still smiling. Still shaking his head in protest, as if he can’t quite fully accept it.

“I know.”

“You just —you always talked about him, you know? Whether it was about his terrible personality or his disgusting behaviour, it was like his presence was constantly taunting me. Making me feel like the least interesting man in your life.”

“You weren’t—“

“I know,” he cuts her off with a raised hand. Something that would normally make her angry but right now just makes her confused. “It’s just… no matter how negatively you talked about him there was always this passion there. Like everything about him was actually worthy of conversation.”

Letting out a dry laugh, he pauses to rub his face again, this time groaning through the process. “I guess, I just wanted you to talk about me like that. Just once so that I knew you weren’t getting tired of me.”

It’s at that moment Zayis feels her chest begin to break, the cavity of her ribcage splintering out to stab through her flesh. All at once, it hits the tenderest parts of her, ripping away what little composure she once had —filling her up with that same wave of emotion she’s been avoiding all this time.

Leaning back in her chair, it immediately prompts her to blink back the threat of tears. As they begin to sting her eyes, she can’t help but focus on the pressure and how it weighs far more than it did when she first entered. How somehow, despite doing what she came here to do, this newfound information Vesryn provides just feels like another problem. Another issue added to the ongoing pile of things she needs to fix but doesn’t know how to.

Which makes the once subdued panic inside her chest practically explode. Taking the form of shaking hands and shifting eyes, she can feel her breath start to quicken. The sudden lack of air located inside her chest making it difficult for her to breathe.

Almost immediately Vesryn’s kneeling in front of her as it happens, taking her hands in his while looking up with concern. “It’s okay, Zay,” he tells her. “I’m okay.”

She doesn’t understand how it could be —how he could be after all that she’s done to him. Having fucked off without a single goodbye he should be the wreck who sits at the table, looking like a broken vessel with nothing else to give. The one who mourns for a life they could’ve possibly had if not for bad timing or poor communication or—

“I forgive you, yeah?”

His voice is soft. A caress of sound that only further fuels her tears, realizing it’s her who’s crumbling. The one who’s broken and tired, unsure whether or not to let this go in favour of pursuing something new.

“Why?”

“Because I do?” He shrugs. “I don’t know —does there have to be a reason?”

Before coming here she would’ve said no and called it a day. But now that she’s in front of him, debating whether or not she should fight for a second chance, she needs it. More than anything she’s ever needed in her life, she’s willing to demand it if she has to.

Sensing this, all Vesryn does is sigh. Offering her a subtle nod, he then moves to stand while holding her head, allowing his fingers to gently push against the crown of her skull to calm her down.

“Once you left I think I realized we were only together because it was familiar,” he says, and immediately she knows he’s right because, near the end, it was as if they were nothing more than two people sharing a space.

Allowing the convenience of their arrangement to take over, no longer was there that initial spark they once had as kids. The one that drove them to care and want and grow. And because of that, by the time the kidnapping happened, it was obvious that they were well on their way to this same ending.

“I'm sorry, Ves.”

Before she can even think she’s reaching for his torso, pressing her face against the side of his ribs as she wraps herself around. An act he responds to by hugging her shoulder with one arm, once again telling her it’s okay.

“I promise we’ll make it out the other side,” he tells her, and somehow despite the cloud of doubt that seems to always circle her head as of late, she believes him. Feeling the truth of his words remind her that even though they’re not the same as they once were, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they can’t still be there for one another.

“Gods, I hope you’re right because I really don’t think I have the mental capacity to become a mind flayer right now.”

Somehow that comment manages to break the ice, causing both of them to grin as Vesryn rolls his eyes. “What? Not a fan of tentacles?”

All she does is scrunch up her face.

“Oh c’mon! Might be fun!”

“Define fun.”

Peeling himself away, he wanders over to the kitchen and grabs a bottle off the shelf, placing it in front of Zayis before retreating back to his chair with a shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t they control people with their minds?”

Almost immediately she reaches for the vessel in front of her, pulling out the cork with a loud pop!

“Sure, but they also eat brains which I’m not necessarily fond of,” she explains, taking a sip of the undisclosed liquid, feeling it burn the second it hits her tongue.

“I mean, bit of brains never hurt anyone. Especially not you.”

As she finishes sipping, she shoots him an unimpressed look. One that eventually makes the both of them laugh, prompting her chest to tighten. Her body somehow reminding itself of how easy things used to be.

“I swear if I do turn into a mind flayer you’re the first on my list of brains to eat.”

“Really? Not the vampire?”

His voice is unnaturally smug as he says it. So much so that she’s almost a little surprised, watching the way he cocks his brow and reaches across the table to take a quick sip of his own.

“How is he doing anyways?”

“A bit forward, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Last I heard though, you’re on borrowed time.”

Pressing her lips together, she realizes then that he’s right. Now that they’re back in Baldur’s Gate it’s only a matter of time before they have to face their problem head on. A detail she hadn’t quite grasped yet, having been focused on getting here first.

“He’s fine.”

Without warning Vesryn pushes the bottle across the table, smirking. “Just fine, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Not good? Great? Absolutely per—“

“He’s good,” she practically snaps, taking the few silent beats that pass to down a good portion of their drink.

“That’s good.” Nodding his head, he watches her take a few more sips, forcing back an obviously shit-eating grin. “Treating you well, I hope?”

He waves his hand through the air dramatically and immediately Zayis can’t help but groan and take another sip. Letting the liquid distract her from the roaming thoughts that keep entering her mind —forcing her to remember Astarion’s face and how unimpressed it looked when she left camp.

Somehow it makes her miss him. Despite knowing that she’ll return to his side amongst the others by the time the sun rises, there’s a brief moment where she’s staring at Vesryn that makes her panic. An almost anxious jolt of electricity firing through her nerve endings, causing her to twitch unfortunately in her chair.

“He’s alright, I guess,” she ends up saying. “Still annoying as ever.”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

“I’m sure you’d be surprised now, too.”

“What do you mean?”

At first, she isn’t sure what she means. But then she narrows her eyes and thinks really hard for a second, uncovering the truth. “He’s actually, uh, kind of sweet sometimes.”

“Really?”

Almost immediately, the simple confession takes both of them back, prompting Zayis to clear her throat and continue to drink, feeling her head whirl from the volume of liquor she’s managed to consume over the last few minutes; honing in on the sudden interest in Vesryn’s eyes.

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re fishing for something.”

Suddenly defensive, he scoffs and motions for her to hand over the bottle. “I’m not fishing for anything.”

“Oh please, don’t think I don’t remember how gossipy of a bitch you are.”

All he does is smile, causing her to pinch the bridge of her nose and breathe, trying her best to remain calm. Because foolishly, now that she’s opened the can of worms that is Astarion, it’s like the man’s completely taken over. Seamlessly appearing in every corner of her exhausted mind, she can’t help but wonder how he’d react to this conversation.

Already she can hear him chastising her for skimping out on the details. Having practically memorized the inflections of his voice after years of endurance, she can clearly envision that cheeky little laugh of his. And how the way his hand might feel pressed against her cheek, taking in the frustrated expression that now coats her face.

The same one Vesryn immediately comments on. Pointing in amusement, he ends up asking her why she looks like that, causing her to cross her arms over her chest and shake her head, too stubborn to reveal the truth.

“I see you're as emotionally distant as ever.”

As he speaks, Vesryn just shoots her a knowing glance and slides their shared drink back to her. Barely batting an eye when she takes a few more angry sips.

“Am not.”

“And childish.”

For a moment she thinks about repeating history and grabbing the knife from her holster. But then she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, forcing herself to calm down just as Vesryn laughs.

“Shut up. You’re just saying that so you can get me to talk.”

“Is it working?”

Whether it’s the challenging way he approaches the topic or the familiarity of his presence, it unfortunately is. More so than she cares to admit as she rolls her eyes, opting to avoid the topic by asking him what he’s been up to. Forcing the conversation to pivot as she continues to drink, listening to all the mundane stories of their old life. All the jobs he’s taken and how he’s kept himself busy while she’s been saving the coast.

And for a while, it’s kind of nice focusing on something else. Something simple and disconnected from the reality that she now finds herself in. So much so that she doesn’t even register the empty bottle now in front of her after Vesryn changes the topic again. This time transitioning to her friends.

“You said that Ravengard kid was with you?”

Nodding her head, she then feels the entire room begin to spin around her. Echoing out in a series of waves, it’s as if everything’s begun to slow down. Her mind working to catch up with the rest of her surroundings. Somehow it makes her laugh despite how uncomfortable it is. The kind that Vesryn immediately clocks as an indication of her inebriation, making him sigh.

“Probably shouldn’t have let you drink all that, huh?”

She hums in response and closes her eyes, feeling the weight of everything slowly drift away as her body starts to melt further into the chair.

“How about I go make you a bed?”

“No.”

“No?”

She blinks and laughs, forcing her eyes to focus on her friend. “I want to go home.”

“You are home?”

She shakes her head almost violently. “No, home.”

He doesn’t know that home means camp. Or, more specifically, that home to her is where Astarion is. Nor does he understand the jumble of words that fall from her mouth immediately after. “Zayis, you are way too drunk to be arguing right now.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying!”

He can’t help but laugh as he stands up, moving towards her to help pull her to her feet. “Saying what?”

“I want to see Fangs,” she whines, and before she knows it she’s being guided towards the door by her old flame’s hands without another word. Tiredly leaning against his shoulder as they walk down the darkened street.

“Where am I taking you?”

Through slurred speech she directs him to her camp, explaining the quickest route with the kind of drunken hand gestures Vesryn can’t help but mock.

“Shut up, I’m drunk.”

“I can tell.”

“And I’m tired.”

“No kidding.”

“I think I might be in love, too.”

At that Vesryn stops walking, causing her to sort of bump into his arm and swear under her breath, grumbling about his lack of coordination before the words she’s uttered circle back to her. Forcing her eyes to widen as her stomach starts to twist, realizing what she’s done. Registering the fact that she just admitted out loud that her feelings are valid and not just ridiculous moments of lust clouding her vision.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Despite the context, Vesryn can’t help but laugh, watching as Zayis begins to breathe with her entire chest. The fabric of her tunic rising and falling in rapid succession as her eyes dart back and forth.

“I think I’m in love with Astarion,” she then says before slamming her lips shut, feeling her face grow hot and her hands begin to sweat. Every part of her body working against her as she suddenly bolts down the street, listening to Vesryn’s footsteps work to keep up.

“Wait a minute, how long has this been going on?”

Unsurprisingly, Zayis ignores him, swearing under her breath when she comes to a street she doesn’t notice, forcing Vesryn to grab her arm and redirect her.

“Do you think he loves you back?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

She repeats the same answer in frustration, throwing her hands up to cover her eyes, knowing now she’s fucked. Completely and totally fucked because despite knowing how foolish it is to fall in love with someone like Astarion she’s managed to do just that.

“Okay, well do you want to know?”

He asks the question like it’s a simply gained answer. As if asking Astarion about his feelings is something Zayis can do without feeling humiliated.

Because truthfully, she knows if asked, not only would she be met with that teasing voice of Astarion telling her I told you so regardless of the answer, but she’d also be forced to live with the fact that Vesryn was right all along.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

Quickening her pace, she can feel her legs begin to ache from the events of the day. All of the hours of travelling and fighting piling onto her weakened knees as she pushes forward.

Watching her struggle, Vesryn follows behind almost cautiously, trying his best not to hover while remaining close. Well aware at any second she might just fall to the ground thanks to the alcohol.

“I think maybe we should just get you home, yeah? I’m sure your boyfriend is worried sick.”

Before he can even laugh at his poorly timed joke she’s turning to swing her fist at his head, causing him to grab her wrist in annoyance.

“C’mon Punchy, let’s not keep your leech waiting.”

Frowning in response she allows him then to guide her the rest of the way. Keeping his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulder for support, she dizzily latches onto his side, resting her head against his chest. Trying her best to ignore the sickness that resides at the base of her stomach as they continue forward, eventually making it to camp.

“You know, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

While glaring at Vesryn she can feel her head begin to pound. The space behind her eyes where the tadpole resides ringing out in a painful rhythm of words. All of them loud and irate, saying something she can’t quite understand.

At which point she begins to descend without warning, causing Vesryn to swear and catch her arm, watching anxiously as she moves one hand to her temple.

“Zay?”

When she doesn’t immediately respond he maneuvers her to the ground, kneeling in front of her with nervous hands to hold her face, searching for further signs of distress until she’s completely still again.

“Sorry, that uh, happens sometimes.”

“What?”

“The tadpoles,” she mumbles, brushing his hands away to rub her eyes, feeling the pain still linger behind them but at a much smaller scale. “Sometimes when one of us gets a bit emotional or something they…”

As she trails off with a yawn she attempts to mime the word connection by pressing her index fingers together in front of her. A motion Vesryn thankfully understands, nodding his head in response.

“We don’t—“

The sound of a clearing throat pulls her away from the conversation. Her eyes shifting from Vesryn’s face towards a very pissed-off Astarion now standing in front of them with his hands on his hips.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Instantly, both she and Vesryn jump to speak, their voices fumbling over each other until Zayis eventually turns back and frowns, prompting Vesryn to innocently raise his hands and stand up.

“Ves was just bringing me home.”

“At this hour?” Astarion asks, his voice lower than normal. Angrier even. A rumble of sound emanating from his chest as he crouches down to face her —instantly smelling the drink on her breath. “Wait a minute, you’re drunk.”

“Am not,” she slurs, grinning. Expecting him to grin back or crack some sort of joke. Not shift his jaw and stand as he does, moving towards Vesryn faster than she can think to blink.

“I always knew you were an idiot,” she hears him say, watching him reach for Vesryn’s clothes. Gripping the collar of his shirt with such ferocity that the only sound that Zayis hears after that is the sudden groan her old partner lets out.

Which makes her panic, realizing then that Astarion isn’t just pissed —he’s livid. Red not only in the eyes but also in the face, prompting her to try and stand up only to fall back down thanks to the lightness that travels throughout her head.

“What’d you do to her, huh? Get her drunk and then take advantage of her?”

Trying but ultimately failing to speak over Astarion’s angered assumptions, Zayis eventually opts to reach for the fabric of his pants instead. Pulling at the base of his calf to gain his attention, muttering his name through the mess of sounds until she’s been ushered to her feet by a pair of arms.

“I see the apology’s going well,” Wyll says, and immediately she whips her head to face him in response, taking in the humoured expression across his face before turning back to see the two men being ripped away from each other by Karlach’s brute force. Both of them continuing their attempts at violence.

“This isn’t how we treat our guest, Fangs,” Karlach scolds, but Astarion’s already cursing Vesryn’s name. Using whatever insult he can think of to throw the poor man’s way. Ignoring Karlach’s plea for him to shut up even when she threatens to knock him out cold if he doesn’t behave.

Which only causes more issues when the rest of the camp begins to realize what’s going on. All of them piling out of their tents to watch this ridiculous display of angry men fighting over an issue neither of them really have much control over. Considering Zayis is drunk and now grumbling into the crook of Wyll’s neck trying her best not to cry at the sight of Karlach shoving Astarion towards Lae’zel, it’s obvious that the best thing to do is drop it.

Or at least, put a pin in it until morning. Which is exactly what Gale suggests when he wanders towards Lae’zel’s side, smirking at their not-so-friendly vampire before making some sort of backhanded compliment that has Astarion lunging towards him with a hiss.

“Alright, alright. No need to maim the wizard,” Gale mutters, darting back. “I’m just here for the show not to get roped into any audience participation.”

After that, Zayis hears Wyll sigh in defeat as he runs his palm along the length of his face, trying his best to comfort her as she continues to wrap herself around him, digging her claws into his clothes while her tail grips tightly onto his legs.

“I think we should probably get her some water,” he says, prompting Shadowheart to move towards Vesryn, placing a hand on his shoulder as she asks him if he needs any healing.

While shaking his head he ends up glancing over at Zayis who already looks like she’s dead to the world. Still grumbling incoherently under her breath, it’s as if her mind has been turned to sludge as Wyll drags her over to the fire, placing her gently on the ground. Practically forcing a stream’s worth of water down her throat by the time Shadowheart wanders over, casting whatever restoration magic she’s got left.

“That fool of yours is lucky Karlach showed up when she did,” she mutters, moving to place either hand on Zayis’s face. Allowing the magic to spread through her cheeks like an icy veil, wrapping around heated flesh. Providing the perfect amount of relief for the tadpole behind her eye to settle back into its dormant state.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Karlach’s taking him home.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Zayis continues to drink through the process. Feeling the water soothe her aching throat as Shadowheart continues to speak, scolding her for being so stupid.

“Gods, I can’t believe you let him get you drunk.”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” Zayis snaps, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, watching as her two friends share an unimpressed look. “I got nervous.”

“And drank an entire bar?”

For some reason that makes Wyll snort, prompting Zayis to reach out and yank his horn, causing the warlock to groan and swat her away. “Hey! She’s right, you know!”

Regardless of whether or not they are, Zayis opts to go silent after. Sitting angrily between the two of them, she lets Shadowheart finish her spell before muttering out a quiet thanks. The kind that Shadowheart almost immediately reciprocates with an unenthusiastic no problem before retreating to her tent. Leaving just herself and Wyll to stew in the awkward silence of her actions as she continues to sip her water. Paying no mind to the curious eyes that dart between the camp and her face, picking apart the expressions that absentmindedly shift the longer she sits.

“So, uh, do you want to talk about what happened or would you rather wallow?”

Earning no response, Wyll sighs, prompting Zayis to look over with a frown. Both of them staring at each other, wishing that she’d just come out and say whatever needs to be said instead of rotting away, pretending like her actions are something other than self-inflicted wounds.

“I promise no judgement, you know.”

“I know. I’m just —I think I should probably talk to him first.”

“Not sure he’s interested in talking.”

Zayis snorts out of habit, moving a hand to rub her eyes, feeling her head swirl. “Fair. I probably wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”

“I’m sure if you give him time,” Wyll suggests, and even though she knows he’s right all she can feel is the lack of patience beginning to settle in. The undeniable urge to jump to her feet and run to his side almost doubling on impact. The temptation to confess all the thoughts that have plagued her mind over the last few weeks making their presence known.

It forces her to chug a few more glasses of water in silence. Trying her best to remain as rational as possible. Or at least, until she’s able to fully stabilize her thoughts in the form of a pros and cons list that Wyll almost immediately interrupts.

“I know you say you are, but are you truly alright?”

At first, she doesn’t have an answer. Too focused on trying to figure out whether it’s a pro or a con to storm into Astarion’s tent, she hardly registers the words. Instead finding herself at a mental crossroads, debating the level of sobriety needed to confess one’s love before it becomes insulting. But then her mind catches up. Slowly but surely taking in the words. Feeling the genuine curiosity in his voice sound almost paranormal. As if he’s already used the tadpole to burrow into her mind and find the answer for himself.

Not that he’d need to, to know that she’s the opposite of alright.

Even before arriving, she’d been on the absolute edge of sanity. Struggling to choose which battle to tackle first, since entering the walls of Baldur’s Gate it’s felt like she’s been pulled every which way. Slowly becoming stretched to the point of ripping.

Which she wants to admit. But thanks to the guardedness of her brain, all she’s able to say is that she’s tired. That the well within her soul has sufficiently dried up leaving nothing more than a hole in the ground, waiting for its fill once again.

With a sigh, Wyll slides a little closer and nudges her leg, offering support in whatever way he can as she glances at him, silently pleading for advice.

“You need to rest, Zay.”

Genuinely curious, she looks at him with half-lidded eyes. The glassy look of drunkenness still heavily visible. “How?”

“By allowing your problems to run their course rather than trying to direct them yourself.”

Leaning forward, she groans into her hands. The emptiness of her head making it hard for her to understand the riddles Wyll often speaks in. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Letting out a soft laugh, his hand finds its way to one of her horns to reciprocate that same push from earlier, forcing her to grumble under her breath.

“It means you should go to bed.”

Groaning in response, she debates whether or not to argue, feeling her eyes shift towards Astarion’s tent —feeling that inevitable pull behind her eye, begging for her to curl up against his frame regardless of whatever fight might unfold.

“Okay. But not because you told me too,” she eventually says, and Wyll just smiles and ushers her to her feet, forcing one final glass of water into her hand.

“One more for the road, okay?”

All she does is nod her head and slowly make her way towards the tent. Staring intensely at the ground beneath her, she maneuvers around roots and rocks, trying her best not to let the remnants of leftover inebriation overtake her ability to function.

Which proves easy up until she makes it to the tent. Feeling her vision shift in and out of focus as she attempts to push open the flap, there’s a moment where she sways back and has to catch herself, causing her lips to part into an awkward squeal.

“What the hells are you doing?” Astarion says, and before she can even think to correct her footing she’s somehow pressed against his chest with her glass of water nowhere to be seen. Her body suddenly feeling warm thanks to the way his hands snake around her waist, tightly gripping the flesh beneath her shirt. Reminding her that despite the intimate position she finds herself in, he’s definitely still unimpressed.

“How come you’re mad?”

His eyes narrow, becoming two thin slits of rage that successfully scare her into submission, prompting her to swallow hard and sit up on her knees, feeling his hands tighten even more. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Following her lead, he forces himself to release her waist in order to lean into her, practically pressing his forehead against hers. “I mean, honestly, do you have any sense of self-preservation or do you just choose to act like an idiot?”

Immediately she blinks, processing his words. Marinating in the meaning until she fully understands. “You know, Vesryn isn’t an enemy —he’s a friend.”

“I’d argue otherwise, but I suppose your choice in friends has always been questionable.”

Feeling the liquor rush through her system, she quickly reaches out to grab his shoulder, steadying herself against the sway that overtakes. Fully pressing her forehead against his despite wanting nothing more than to wrap her hand around his skinny little neck and—

“You didn’t tell me you were going to see him.”

Her mouth opens to respond —to tell him that it doesn’t matter— but then she stops, pulling away to explore the hurt expression across his face. Specifically the focused look within his eyes that fail to falter for even a second.

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“I suppose you don’t but—”

“But what then?”

“But a courtesy would’ve been nice,” he practically snaps. “Or a simple warning at the very least —I think I deserve at least that.”

She looks at him confused then. Unsure what exactly he means, her lips part to ask, watching as his expression slowly matches hers. Both of them staring in anticipation for an answer that never comes.

“You know I just went there to talk, right?” Her voice struggles through the fog that hits her head, causing her to frequently pause between words. “I didn’t go there to do whatever it is you’re…”

Trailing off, she wiggles her fingers, trying her best to insinuate that whatever assumptions he has are wrong. And that he’s being stupid, but she’s too drunk to incorporate that accordingly.

So instead, she just settles for the former, watching the way his nose scrunches up, pulling at his upper lip to reveal the tips of his fangs. An expression that makes her wonder if maybe her words aren’t matching up with her thoughts, prompting her to sigh and move her hands to her face.

“Fuck, I’m too drunk for this.”

“Yeah, that’s becoming apparent.”

For some reason that makes her laugh weakly. “I just… I don’t want to fight anymore. Not for this.”

“Then what do you want to fight for?”

Pushing her hands further into the sockets of her eyes, she feels her head pound in frustration. All of her thoughts piling to the forefront of her mind, screaming at her to settle this once and for all. To tell him that she doesn’t want to fight anymore. To say that, instead of pressing their knives to each other’s throats time and time again, all she wants to do is toss them aside and kiss the scars they’ve inflicted.

But because she’s drunk —because she can’t think without the whole process becoming far more difficult than it should be— all she does is move into him. Allowing her body to speak for itself in the form of a desperate hug, she wraps her arms around his shoulder before he guides her down into the bedroll.

“Alright, easy does it, darling,” Astarion grumbles, his angered tone failing to match the sweetness of his words, prompting Zayis to frown and turn her back to him.

“Don’t call me that. I’m mad at you.”

“Since when?”

“Since you decided to be mad at me for no reason,” she says, causing Astarion to huff as he begins to run his fingers through the roots of her hair —feeling the familiar presence of her tail slowly wrap around his thigh.

“Once again, I’d argue such a statement but clearly you’re too far gone to be able to defend yourself.”

“Fuck you, I can do anything.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Agree to —shut up, Astarion.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, he reluctantly continues his ministrations despite the abuse. Pressing the pads of his fingers deeply into the base of her skull.

“Go to sleep, Zay. We can fight in the morning.”

In response, she grumbles out in protest. Ultimately failing to convey her disinterest as his fingers lower to the back of her head, following the line of her braid until he hits the end and begins to undo it. Then, with careful hands he works his way back up, feeling her slowly drift beneath his touch.

“Gods, sometimes I wonder if loving you is even worth the headache,” he tells her, unaware of the sliver of consciousness that manages to linger. Even when she nervously stirs at his words, wondering if she heard him correctly.

Because there’s no way he loves her, right? Too focused on what he gains from being around her rather than her herself, there’s not a single chance he cares. That’d be impossible. Unthinkable. An admittance so beyond logic that as she lays there, eyes shut tight, she has to force herself to ignore it. To chalk his strange confession up to the liquor poisoning her mind with outlandish thoughts.

Which thankfully isn’t hard given how drunk she still is. In fact, with very little effort, it only takes a few minutes of Astarion’s fingers moving through her hair to fully render her useless. Her body curling under the blanket, unaware of the restlessness Astarion experiences as the hours pass. Oblivious to the fact that, even before she wakes up, he’s already gone.

Becoming nothing more than a vacant space that leaves her confused when she eventually rolls over hours later, groaning at the pain that rips through her skull, remembering everything that happened. Specifically, the words he may have said to her last night —the ones so far from reality that she can’t help but wonder if it was merely just a figment of her imagination.

Hearing them echo in her mind, she palms the sockets of her eyes and sits up, feeling the aches and pains of the previous hours seep into her bones. Taking refuge in her muscles to the point that not even she can deny how much of a struggle it is to crawl around the sun-kissed tent, searching for the cup of water Wyll gave her last night before downing it in one huge gulp.

Unsurprisingly it feels like a gift from every God combined. A blessing of liquid that provides her with enough energy to shakily crawl through the opening of the tent, squinting at the newfound light that hits her face.

Somehow it’s already sunrise. Even though it felt like she was maybe asleep for a couple of minutes, it’s obvious now that she got at least a few hours in. Something she’s thankful for as she wanders over to the pile of supplies by the put-out fire, rooting through the various bags until she finds a canteen of water.

At which point she begins to drink and aimlessly walk, forcing her tired legs to move through the length of the camp and past the tree line, weaving through the obstacles of nature until she’s standing at the edge of a hill.

Looking up, there’s a moment or two where she debates turning back. But then her body starts to move without warning, pushing her further and further past the threshold of capability she should have after a night of heavy drinking and emotional warfare. Disregarding the burn that envelops practically every fibre of her being until she hits the top.

Then she’s doubling over in pain, on the verge of tears, feeling the desire to give up filter through her determination, making her second guess her actions until she hears someone huff.

“You look like a corpse,” Astarion says. “And not a fresh one either.”

Forcing out a laugh, she squints to see him sitting on a stump a few feet away with a mug of tea in his hand —another at his side like always. “Morning to you, too.”

“Morning.”

His voice is quiet as he turns to look at the rising sun. Ignoring her as she moves toward him, taking the cup that rests beside him into her hands before she sits in its place. “Thanks.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just sips the tea and continues to soak in the light as he often does. Paying no mind to Zayis as she takes a sip of her own, staring at the side of his face.

“Did you rest at all?”

All he does is shake his head.

“When did you leave?”

“Not long after you fell asleep.”

Humming in response, she turns away to look at the sky herself, allowing her mind to drift to last night. Hearing that single word uttered over and over again in her mind until it doesn’t sound like a word at all.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

Releasing an annoyed breath, she takes another sip before she continues. “Always does, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

After that, she sees him sort of smirk against the edge of his cup, prompting her to quietly groan and ditch the idea altogether. Feeling the walls of her heart begin to make their way up again —discarding whatever idea might’ve crossed her mind to even think about letting them down in the first place.

Something Astarion immediately notices. Having failed to ask her question, he quickly turns to face her, exploring her features —noticing the sudden lack of curiosity that immediately befalls her face. “That’s it then?”

“What?”

“No question? No pretty little morning argument?”

She looks at him confused, her jaw dropping slightly open.

“Not even a single threat relating to bodily harm?”

“I—“

“My, my, have you gone soft or something, darling?” he asks; his tone changing. Morphing to have this venomous quality, Zayis immediately scoffs at.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns away, pretending like there’s no reasoning behind his words. Acting as if there's no fight to pick despite there very clearly being one.

“You know, if you have a problem with my behaviour you can just come out and say it instead of waiting for me to figure it out myself.”

In response, he lets out quite possibly the fakest laugh she’s ever heard. “I could. Though, we both know that even if you did figure it out, you wouldn’t talk about it anyway. You don’t do emotions.”

“Neither do you.”

“Actually I—“

Without warning she stands up to chuck the mug over the edge of the hill, groaning from the pain of her muscles —trying her best to ignore the way they pull in strange ways as she turns to glare in his direction. “No, you know what? You don’t get to act like an asshole just because you’re mad that I didn’t tell you I was seeing Vesryn!”

“Oh, please, I’m not mad about that!” Standing up, he discards his mug on the stump and takes a step forward. Inserting himself into her space, watching her follow his lead until they’re practically nose to nose. “What I’m mad at is your lack of attention —for your inability to look around and see what you so clearly deserve!”

“Deserve?” Pressing a rough hand to his chest, she forces him back only to step forward, watching his eyes narrow in annoyance —his hands darting out to grip her wrists once she’s close enough. “You think this mistreatment is what I deserve?”

As she struggles against his hold, both of them bare their teeth in frustration. Neither one of them willing to admit their respective thoughts until Astarion’s eventually the first to cave, growling under his breath.

“No, but sometimes I think you believe that,” he says, his voice lowering. The sound of it reverberating through his chest like an avalanche Zay can’t help but stand at the bottom of, wondering when she’ll inevitably perish beneath it.

Because that’s what it feels like sometimes, being around him. Oftentimes while attempting to navigate all the feelings that erupt each time he picks a fight, she has to hear things she doesn’t want to. To listen to the truth time and time again, despite wanting nothing more than to run from it. Almost every time it makes her breathless, hearing the way he picks her soul apart each time she gives him the chance. Feeling fine one moment and lost the next as he continues to speak.

“Is that why you won’t talk to me? Why, despite all the times I’ve confided in you, you refuse to offer the same in return? Because you’re punishing yourself?”

Taking it all in, her gaze flickers down to his hands, watching them slip up her wrists, slowly moving to turn her palms to the sky so that he can gently rest his own on top. Inhaling deeply, it’s as if the weight of them are suddenly all over her body. Pressing roughly against her chest and arms —grabbing hold of her feet so that they keep her in place despite wanting nothing more than to run. To swallow whatever pride she has left and disappear for good.

To pretend like he isn’t working up to some huge confession despite wanting nothing more.

“Zayis?”

“What?”

She doesn’t mean to snap. But regardless, the word comes out like a bite, latching onto his throat. The tips of them diving into his flesh before he can even think to recoil.

It makes him falter for a second. The entirety of his body twitching against the rise of her voice before he eventually puffs back up again, sighing so hard the only thing she feels afterward is the echo of his breath.

“Gods, for once will you just fucking talk to me?” he then pleads, gripping the base of her fingers so tightly she ends up wincing. “Please.”

“What do you want me to say, Astarion? That I’m punishing myself because I’m scared?”

“If that’s the reason, yes!”

“And what if I don’t know the reason?”

“Then—“

Suddenly, she rips her hands from his to move them to her face, pressing the pads of her fingers roughly against her temples. Shakily circling the flesh as she heavily exhales, trying to collect her thoughts as he takes another step forward, tugging her close by the waist. Forcing his fingers beneath the hem of her untucked shirt.

“Tell me then. Are you punishing yourself because you feel guilty for what you’ve done? Or are you punishing me because the mere thought of either of us deserving each other is too much to bear?”

It’s the kind of question that has her fearing for her life. Regardless of how many enemies she’s fought over the past few weeks. As she stares into Astarion’s eyes, watching the deep red rings nearly disappear behind narrowed lids, she has to force herself to stay. Knowing that if she doesn’t, she’ll just wind up back where she started: all alone, wishing just once she could have something real.

Because with Vesryn, it never was. Despite the adoration that still presents itself each time they’re together, that’s all it ever really grew to become. Two people admiring each other for reasons unrelated to love. Not people who fought tooth and nail just to earn the bare minimum. People who, despite everyone telling them to quit while they’re ahead, continued to choose each other above all else.

Which makes looking at Astarion that much harder. As he bears his soul in his own way, asking her for something in return, it makes her realize that the reason she fears so much isn’t because she feels guilty for abandoning Vesryn but because she fears the judgement of it. Always self-critical of her own actions thanks to the scrutiny of her upbringing, it’s hard to look at what’s in front of her and not assume the worst. Considering they already bring out the worst in each other pretty much constantly, it’s obvious there’s always been some reservations. Despite being fully aware of their similarities and the chemistry that presents itself when needed, at all times there always seems to be a voice at the back of her mind telling her she’s stupid for thinking things might work out.

Because honestly, it probably won’t. Not with the way Astarion’s looking at her with those eyes or the way he’s practically clawing at her hips, begging for her to stay. Coaxing her into this false world where the two of them fall in love and get the happy ending neither of them really deserves.

It isn’t realistic. Or truthful in any way, which is why when she speaks she doesn't lie or even coat the truth in honeyed words.

“I don’t feel guilty,” she starts, dropping her hands to gently hold the crook of his elbows —feeling her tail follow behind and absentmindedly slink around his waist. “Ves and I —we weren’t good together.”

“Why?”

She looks away, pursing her lips as he nudges her closer. Pulling her eyes back in almost immediately. Keeping her there with him no matter what. “We never had this.”

“And what is this?”

“Lust? Love? I don’t...”

Trailing off, she shakes her head and closes her eyes, hearing that voice inside her head telling her this is wrong. That he and her and everything shared over the last few weeks has been nothing but a ploy. A tactic used to get what he needs out of her before he—

He interrupts her thoughts by grabbing her chin. Running his thumb along the space just below her lip, he then cocks his head and sort of smiles. “This isn’t just lust, you know,” he tells her, and suddenly it’s like she’s back at the tiefling party again, catching his gaze between moments of mingling, unable to deny the mutual attraction as he inevitably flirts his way beneath her clothes.

“It isn’t?”

Softly, his finger rises to touch her lower lip. Pulling it down ever so slightly, she sees his lips part into a toothy grin that has her heavily breathing, wondering if this is it. The moment she completely falls apart into his arms with no escape plan. The one where he says those magic little words and she falls headfirst into the palm of his hand.

“Not anymore.”

“Then… what is it now?”

Whether it’s because he doesn’t know or he wasn’t expecting her to ask, Astarion’s rendered speechless. With his mouth partially open in surprise, not a sound comes out once the question is asked, prompting Zayis’s stomach to twist into knots so far beyond untangling that she honestly feels like she might pass out.

Because of the sheer anticipation alone, she’s already struggling to breathe. Feeling her lungs begin to cave under the pressure of his silence, she finds herself acting before thinking. Moving before speaking. Granting herself the chance to take matters into her own hands as they rise to cup his cheeks.

Beneath her fingertips, he feels colder than she remembers. Stinging her digits like slabs of carved-out ice, she lets her thumbs trail over the peaks and valleys of his face —exploring the highest points of his cheekbones down to the hollowness of his under-eyes. Memorizing every part with careful hands. Watching his expression change as she begins to lean in, bumping the tip of her nose against his before letting out the shakiest breath that’s probably ever existed.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s worth the headache,” she then says, feeling his hand slip from her chin to wrap around the back of her head. Both of them moving in to cross the one boundary that’s never been crossed. Neither of them caring that in the process their fangs knock haphazardly together before quickly finding their rhythm.

Which surprises her if she’s honest. After always feeling like they’re on opposing sides, for a moment it doesn’t make much sense to her. As his lips gently shift to slot themselves against hers, it shouldn’t feel this perfect. It should be difficult like everything else. A battle of power and tension. Not easy. Not like she’s breathing or walking or driving a knife into someone’s chest.

No, it should be harder than this. More complicated. A process so painstakingly awful that her mind should be telling her it isn’t worth it and run.

Except she can’t, can she? Not when his hands feel like they’re moulded to her frame —how his palms seem to rest perfectly against her head and hip, still pulling her in. All while slowly devouring her mouth with careful nips and licks that have her practically clawing for more. Her hands exploring his neck and hair, unable to choose which spot to settle into.

It makes him grin against her, prompting her to frown in response, not sure why he finds the act so funny. Or why he ends up pulling away so quickly afterward, brushing away loose hairs that have fallen in front of her face.

“Bit rude of you to throw my own words back in my face like that.”

Almost angrily she reaches down to grip the collar of his shirt, attempting to shut him up with another kiss but failing when he grabs her wrist.

“Greedy little thing.”

“Shut up.”

In response, he hums in amusement and leans in to graze her ear with his lips. “One taste and you’re already begging for more, hm?”

“Gods, you’re insufferable.”

“And you’re just pathetic, aren’t you?”

His lips peel into a smirk that has her angrily maneuvering him back to her mouth, digging her fingers into the roots of his hair as well as his shirt —ignoring the way he laughs through another hum while giving in.

A laugh that has her heart foolishly swelling against her ribcage, threatening to burst as he begins to drag her down towards the ground, neither one of them caring how the dirt instantly clings to their clothes or how itchy the grass feels against their exposed skin, because right now, all they care about is this. These somewhat tender moments spent discarding shirts and pants —both of them awkwardly laughing through the mess of limbs that bump against each other in the process.

Somehow, all of it feels too good to be true. Having waited years to properly feel his hands trailing up the length of her spine and his teeth nipping at her flesh as she rests on top, it feels like a projection of her desires come to life. The way he palms the back of her head, guiding his mouth to a particularly supple part of her neck.

It immediately makes her eyes flutter shut, waiting for the moment he decides to strike. Becoming nothing more than teeth and hands working to take their fill. As she lies on top of him, breathing so hard she’s certain she's probably damaged her lung in the process, she can feel his tongue teasing the area. Poking out to coat her skin in saliva before he presses another opened-mouth kiss and pulls away.

“Can I?” he asks, and before she can even think she’s nodding mindlessly. Allowing whatever he wants to happen because the fight’s died out. Whatever need she once had to hold power over him lost the moment he smiles and kisses her lips, sucking away her air before he does the same with her blood.

At which point she’s almost certain she’s going to pass out. With the lack of oxygen and now that familiar pain plunging into the side of her neck, it’s a miracle that she’s still able to stabilize her body. As he begins to push in, she can’t help but jump from the contact, realizing how different it feels in comparison to something like her wrist.

Because despite having experienced the sharpness of his teeth followed by the languid lapping of his tongue against far less intimate places, this feels completely different. More euphoric and intense —something she has to push through as the pain begins to meld into pleasure as the seconds pass.

Which isn’t all that difficult. Not when they’re holding onto each other for dear life, every so often shifting to get a better angle. Moaning under their breaths for different reasons despite sharing the experience. No longer trying to suppress the feelings that stir when Astarion inevitably pulls away, dripping in blood that she immediately moves to wipe away.

“You eat like a starved boar,” she says, trying not to giggle at the way he chases her blood-stained fingers, somehow still desperate for more.

“And you moan like a banshee.”

“I do not!”

Without warning he begins to mock the sound of her voice, throwing his head back, causing her to press her palm fully over his mouth.

“Do you ever stop?”

His voice doesn’t carry through her hand so she reluctantly drops it, giving him a pointed look only to receive another grin. “Only if you want me to,” he then says, and almost immediately she feels her face begin to heat up, realizing that she doesn’t. That instead of stopping and taking a second to talk or even breathe all she wants is more.

So, she responds with another kiss. Not caring about the taste of her blood on his lips or the desperate way she falls slack against his chest, feeling him twitch against her. As she licks the seam of his mouth right open, hungrily pushing her tongue to meet his own, she doesn’t care that he’s adjusting her hips. Grabbing hold of her flesh to position her over the tip of his cock.

With nothing but the sensations of their bodies hurriedly working to become one, she hardly registers anything other than the head teasing her folds, failing to fully enter since she keeps squirming. Something she doesn’t register until he bites her lip a bit too hard, prompting her to pull away and narrow her eyes, watching him frown.

“Stop moving,” he says, but like always she ignores him, moving whatever way her body decides is right until he’s angrily groaning and turning them over, pinning her against the grass. “Brat.”

“Asshole.”

He leans in to steal another kiss while using his hands to hold down her hips, feeling her grind against him. “Thorn in my side,” he mutters.

His voice vibrates against her mouth in a way that has her absolutely reeling. Forcing her hands to dip down to his chest, tracing the carvings of his muscular structure as her tail wraps tightly around his thigh.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” Somehow he sounds surprised. “Is that a genuine compliment?”

“Maybe.”

He hums and releases one of her hips, moving to grip his cock, giving it a few tentative strokes before lining himself up again. “Care to grace me with another one?”

Once again teasing her entrance, she finds herself shifting upwards, chasing the high of him. Following his sex in absolute misery trying to get him to give in without the need for praise.

“Or perhaps I should give that mouth something else to do?”

Before she can even think of a clever response he’s moving in. Slowly dragging through her, making sure that the process of it all is almost painful due to its lack of speed. Stretching her out, there’s a brief moment where she has to reach for his arms. To tether herself to him in some other way as he moves just shy of the hilt, leaning down to grin.

“I’m not hearing any words coming out of that mouth of yours.”

At first, she breaths, adjusting to the feeling of him slipping inside. Trying her best not to focus on the way she instinctively clenches around as she grits her teeth.

“C’mon now,” he coos. Then ever so slightly he pulls back, dragging the pleasure out of her throat in the form of a moan.

“Fuck, I love you,” she says, and immediately they both freeze. Neither one of them able to fully register the words until she opens her mouth again, stuttering out an apology. Scrambling to sit up and backtrack only to find herself being pinned back down and taken over.

Before she can even think the wicked snap of his hips quickly becomes enough of a distraction to forget what she just said. Thanks to the way he abruptly pushes and pulls only to slow it all down, it’s as if the regret evaporates into thin air. The phrase itself turning nothing more than a memory as she lets her hands roam across his back.

Now pressed against her, she feels his palm circle around to the base of her spine to create an arch. Providing both of them with a more comfortable angle for him to rut inside her, hardly caring that his pace has fallen out of time. No longer thinking about the finer details.

Moving in tandem, their lips part so that she can finally breathe, showcasing the stains of blood that cover the lower half of her face, prompting Astarion to smile.

“You’re perfect,” he tells her. “Better than perfect.”

And in the moment, she’s tempted to ask what that means. Or to poke some sort of fun in return, but there’s too much happening. The overwhelming sensations of his cock and hands and the way her entire stomach jumps at the sound of his words becoming far more important than her habit of gaining the last word.

Which only helps build the tension between her thighs. As he continues to jut forward only to slip back, suddenly there’s an additive of movement against her clit. The presence of trailing knuckles brushing, moving much slower than his hips.

Almost lazily, they glide across her nerves in circles, steadily adding to the collection of pressure. Forcing the pulsing stack of pleasure she feels to become too much as she lets out a pathetic whine.

It’s the kind that has him falling apart. No longer able to keep any sort of pace at all, it’s as if he’s suddenly lost in the dark, struggling to maintain the path set out before him. Forgetting all about past instincts as drops to her chest, kissing her face and neck —licking away remnants of blood before continuing down.

“Don’t stop,” she says, and even though she wouldn’t put it past him for doing so out of spite, she’s thankful he doesn’t. Instead, discarding all semblance of sense to guide her over the edge.

Applying a rough bite to the top of one of her breasts, it’s at that moment that Zayis feels the scales tip in her favour. Manifesting in violent tremors that wreak havoc throughout her body, it’s as if she’s lying against the shore, letting the waves lap at her skin. Allowing their strength to pull her in without protest.

Still above her, she can feel Astarion continuing. Too wrapped up in the feeling of her walls contracting on instinct, he sometimes falters but refuses to quit. Unable to stop even when she’s trying to pull away, the sensation of her orgasm becoming too much.

Because the feeling of that combined with the way he’s touching her —the way he’s pressed against her, practically consuming her skin with his sharp teeth— is hedonistic. An act of pure indulgence that has her joining it, allowing her tail to tangle around his waist as he continues to fuck her through her climax. Forcing her fingers to find a home in his hair, coaxing sweet sounds of pleasure from his pretty little lips.

“Come for me,” she tells him then, pressing a kiss to his head, watching his neck crane upwards to capture her gaze as he heeds her call, quickly spilling out inside her cunt. No longer able to suppress the shakes that rattle against her thighs, she lets out a soft laugh.

Which prompts him to look up at her in confusion after he’s finally settled down. Noticing the warmth of her features just staring at him. “What?”

Almost immediately, she bites back a grin, trying her best not to make some obscene sound when he eventually slips out of her and falls to her side. “Nothing.”

Now on his back against the grass, he narrows his eyes at the sky above before glancing back over, shaking his head at her comment. Reaching out to playfully smack her face to the side before releasing a sigh.

“You’re lucky I love you too,” he says, staring at her face —watching it quickly dart his way with widened eyes and parted lips. An obvious lack of thought gracing her mind until everything comes flooding back.

Then all at once, every reservation disappears. Every hesitation or doubt ceasing to exist the moment she sees the subtle smirk that spreads. How it renders her beyond uselessness, unable to reply let alone breathe.

“Rendered speechless?” he then teases, using what little energy he has left to prop himself up and lean over her, brushing his nose against hers. Letting the skin-on-skin contact further fluster her system. “That’s new.”

Greedily, she raises her head to kiss him. “So is telling me you love me.”

“So is…”

He trails off, unable to come up with a viable answer, prompting her to smirk back.

“Gotcha.”

In response he reaches down to pinch her hip, making her squeal. “Careful now or I might put that mouth to better use.”

“Mm, maybe you should,” she teases, but before he can respond there’s a rustle in the bushes, prompting them both to stop in their tracks as they look down the path, noticing a familiar elf stepping towards them.

Which makes Zayis swear under her breath. Pushing Astarion away, she hears him make a sound of disappointment as she scrambles for her clothes, tossing her tunic over her head before moving to stand —stopping at her knees when she sees Halsin look their way.

“Ah, I see you two have decided to patch things up the old fashioned way,” he comments, smiling between the two of them. Failing to care about the state of their dress before he continues to walk past them with the gentle wave of his hand, causing Astarion to snort.

“You know Halsin doesn’t—“

She tosses her pants at his head before he can finish, grumbling in embarrassment as he throws the fabric aside, once again pinning her against the grass with a rough kiss.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in reblogs)

#only fools fall #astarion x tav #astarion x original female characer #astarion x fem oc #zaystarion #knife fight #summer writes

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bee-the-loser · 1 month

Text

₊ ⊹☼ BRINGING THE SUN AND STARS ☼⊹ ₊ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── ₊ ⊹☼ Pairing: Wen Junhui x reader ₊ ⊹☼ Synopsis: Jun enters both your cat cafe and your life on a random Thursday afternoon one day, leading to a connection bigger than both of you initially would have expected. ₊ ⊹☼ Genre: Cat cafe au, fluff, sunshine boy Jun, more reserved reader ₊ ⊹☼ Word count: 1,275 ₊ ⊹☼ Warnings: None that I can think of ₊ ⊹☼ A/N: Hope you all like this, my brain decided it was time to write and somehow this came into existence :D ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

Maybe it was the way the sunlight was shining through the blinds of your small cafe “A Cats Comfort” or maybe it was the way his own smile seemed to rival the sun’s rays, but you found that you couldn’t help the corners of your mouth twitching upwards whenever Jun came around. He seemed to radiate warmth that filled anyone and everyone with infectious positivity, allowing joy to flourish. You never could have imagined that a few months ago, one afternoon would change your calculated every day routine.

It didn’t seem like anything special at first, just a regular Thursday afternoon, but looking back now you can’t help but feel like the world came to a halt for the moment where Wen Junhui walked into your café. He was curious of the new environment you observed as he entered, eyes scanning his surroundings until they inevitably fell onto you. That’s when you first really started to pay attention to him as a person, his cat like eyes locking onto yours and seeming to shine with something you didn’t have the time to determine before he came bounding up to the counter.

A little shyly at first, but gaining confidence the more he spoke, he let out a little ramble about how he discovered the place. “Hi there, I was wondering around the area looking for somewhere to grab a bite and then I saw this little place hiding away and couldn’t help but be enticed by the idea of coffee. Then I saw the cats and just needed to come inside, so I was wondering if I get an iced americano and pet some of the cuties about.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at the end that shocked yourself as you were typically a bit more stoic in nature, but something about this boy let your guard lower even in your first moments. “Sure, you can take a seat anywhere, treats are in the jar on the counter to the left and I’ll get started on your drink. Could I get a name, Sunshine boy?”

“Uh, Wen Junhui, just Jun works actually.”

“Thanks, I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

He blushed for a moment before retreating towards the other counter and you turned around to get started. The moments you took to make the drink seemed to stretch out and feel like eternity, when all you really wanted to do was observe the boy you couldn’t help but feel rivalled the sun. You were in for an even bigger shock though as upon walking over you couldn’t help but come to a halt as you took in the scene in front of you. It seemed his charms even worked on the feline species, as Bandit, the notoriously hard to win over older cat had been comfortably positioned himself lounging across Jun’s lap.

“I see you’ve made a friend there, huh Bandit, your normally rather specific with your choices. He hasn’t taken to anyone other than me before, you must be special then Mister Wen.”

“Oh, uh you can call me Jun, but he just needed a little scratch and love before he climbed right on top of me.”

“Well, I trust he has good tastes, here’s your coffee, I’ll be over there if you need anything…”

“Wait! Uh, would you be free to keep me company, no issue if you can’t, I just thought that since we’re the only ones in here...”

“Jun, it’s okay, I’d love to, give me one sec, to put some of this stuff down and then I’ll come sit down.”

You both spent the next two hours appreciating the company and conversation that felt natural to the both of you, before he eventually left with promises to return when possible.

And return he did.

Every week Jun would stumble into your little abode and spend time with both you and Bandit, becoming closer as you got to know each other. It wasn’t any surprise for you, when you inevitably started to fall for the boy you called sunshine and spent most afternoons either texting or hanging out with. He was just impossible not to like, which is why you were sure nothing would ever come from it, as a guy like Jun surely must already have someone who could give him the stars. You were content with admiring from afar as long as he continued to shine.

Eventually your lives started to overlap and intertwine even more, when you started to meet each other’s friends and spend weekends curled up watching shows at one of your apartments. Saturday nights becoming movie nights for the two of you, with occasional interruptions from the new combined friend group. Your close friends Seungkwan and Seokmin had really hit it off with his dance partner and roommate Soonyoung, when they first met one day at the café. As a result, they often burst through your door to spend time hanging out as a group followed by Jun and his other two roommates: a photographer and art enthusiast by the name of Xu Minghao and a university student by the name Lee Chan, with a strange nickname of Dino. Your week becoming much more enjoyable with the additions of them all into your life and you can’t help the smiles that now seem to come out whenever they’re around.

As it turns out though, you weren’t the only person who had a hobby of observing, as Minghao soon caught onto your little crush and liked to lovingly tease you about it in private. Your friendship allowing room for playful teasing and banter between the two of you, with a greater bond developing after you discovered your shared love of artwork. Although, he also became your biggest supporter in your little crush, which you did struggle to understand at first. You couldn’t comprehend how he thought you were worthy of bringing sunshine boy happiness and love. You were sure he deserved someone better than yourself, but Hao wouldn’t hear it and even pushed forward with encouraging you to confess. After then he would go out of his way to distract the others while you all hung out allowing the both of you some time to yourselves.

The result of which led to a moment on a warm, summer Saturday night, where the two of you found yourself sat watching the sunset on the local riverbank. The orange and pink hues highlighting the scene and making it feel like something out of a movie. Your bodies naturally coming to become close to one another until you were basically leaning on Jun while your eyes never left the sinking sun.

However, he couldn’t help but stare at your face as it lit up with the different hues that painted patterns across your features, his focus flickering to your lips more often than could be considered friendly. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was the sinking sun or the ways your eyes seemed to sparkle as you turned to face him that gave him the confidence.

Whatever it was though, he can’t help but thank the universe as your lips finally connect and the world jumps back into motion. His entrance into your life stopping your universe and allowing you time to run towards hope and happiness, before your kiss restarted the universe as your chase comes to an end. Your sunshine boy had brought it straight to your door.

And as the light disappears beneath the earth and the night encompasses the sky, you realise maybe you could give him the stars, just like how he gave you the sun.

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

#bee's writing #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #wen junhui #wen junhui x reader #moon junhui #moon junhui x reader #minghao #xu minghao #lee chan #seungkwan #lee seokmin #creative writing

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mlmxreader · 17 days

Text

100/50 prompts

rules: you can send more than one prompt per request! prompts can be used until (basically) i get bored of them!

please do NOT use for your own writing/inspiration, this list is specifically for requests to be sent to @mlmxreader .

rules & guidelines

song fic prompts (ongoing)

help Palestinians!

ICE NINE KILLS LYRIC PROMPTS

1. "We're caught without a prayer"

2. "It won't rest til we stop breathing"

3. "We came here today to get away"

4. "But is it real or am I dreaming?"

5. "Is the life we once dreamed of now dead?"

6. "Burn this plate to the ground"

7. "Just hold your rifles still ans then wait for my command"

8. "We took the fort, we stormed the gates but became the very thing that we hate"

9. "We're what we swore we'd not become"

10. "Who gives a fuck how long it's been?"

11. "If a soul must be taken I demand you take me"

12. "I'm every man you've ever dreamed of"

13. "But I would not change a bloody thing"

14. "Fuck that, I'm the king"

15. "Don't think of this as damnation 'cause we don't need their salvation"

16. "If parting is such sweet sorrow to hell with waiting for tomorrow"

17. "You and I both know that death won't matter"

18. "Love doesn't have to be something that we hide behind the scenes"

19. "Did you really think I would falter, my friend?"

20. "I've destroyed you before, I'll destroy you again"

21. "Even Van Gogh would call it a bloody good impression!"

22. "Rest your head, here's a lullaby"

23. "Fell in love with hate 'cause evil fit like a glove"

24. "You'll never sleep again"

25. "All your friends are fucking dead"

26. "Fueled by the flood, we pay in blood, the curse of Crystal Lake"

27. "Throats get slit in this neck of the woods"

28. "You just scratched the surface"

29. "Don't you know he'll never be gone for good?"

30. "So we'll never get out of the woods"

31. "A machete in one hand and an axe in the other"

32. "Oh, doctor can't you see?"

33. "I kill with every strike"

34. "I'll haunt you day after day"

35. "I'll change the face of Halloween"

36. "You can't kill the boogeyman"

37. "I am the shadow where there once was light"

38. "The choice is yours: trick r' fucking treat?"

39. "Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide"

40. "Never will forget my name"

41. "You wanna play a fucking game?"

42. "But the jig is up"

43. "Game over"

44. "Buildings burn and people die all of the time"

45. "You can't save yourself or save your soul"

46. "With weathered wings and broken bones, a flight foe the fallen flies the crow"

47. "May you rest in pieces for your grave mistake"

48. "Four and a half miles due east of Amity Island. This is an official distress call, over."

49. "Coastguard this is the Orca again, we need you out here now! The boat is under attack! It's a great white! Over!" "Roger that, ETA fifteen minutes, over." "In fifteen minutes we'll be fucking shark bait!"

50. "We'll need a bigger boat"

51. "Smile, you son of a bitch"

52. "Plagued by the past and down a badly beaten path, lies a place, one of a kind, cursed by a blinding light that no one can outshine"

53. "The writing on my walls will tell you how it's gonna be"

54. "Oh can't you see that you're just rats within my halls"

55. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm just gonna bash your fucking brains in"

56. "So follow me"

57. "Cross out the words "do not disturb""

58. "We kept the pace but we're done pretending"

59. "We're all messed up inside"

60. "Forced to act like everything's alright"

61. "How'd I end up here?"

62. "It cuts deep cause our lives are still attached"

63. "A deadly touch spreads an itch that can't be scratched"

64. "Sometimes I wish it would all just fade to black"

65. "I won't go back"

66. "And I won't leave a witness"

67. "So howl at the moon, oh how can it be?"

68. "The softer the skin, the sharper the teeth"

69. "I've fallen prey to a curse I can't disown"

70. "Is it all in my head?"

71. "Blood on the hands of a man so filled with doubt"

72. "I've got some big fucking shoes to fill"

73. "Follow me and I'll show you the truth"

74. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you have the wrong number"

75. "In just a minute you'll be dying to hang on the line, tell me your name, I'll tell you mine"

76. "I wanna know who I'm looking at"

77. "You ought to know it's a sure death sentence, have you not seen this movie? Freddy, Michael, Jason Voorhees, learn from those who came before me - next question, same category, such a familiar story"

78. "I wanna see what your insides look like"

79. "Come on in, the weather's dreadful"

80. "I hope saying goodnight, doesn't mean saying goodbye!"

81. "They say behind those gates, eternal life awaits, but those beyond the grave come back beyond depraved"

82. "The flesh is living, but the souls have spoiled"

83. "In the wealthiest sections, a killer complexion is often a great alibi"

84. "Some might say it's extreme, but it's time to say goodbye"

85. "I'm just leaving" "But why?" "I have to return some videotapes"

86. "Soon, hearts will be broken and the damage, severe, you'll fall headless over heels once the 14th is here..."

87. "He's back in town and he won't be undermined, got a bone to pick and a fucking axe to grind"

88. "You're blushing while he's crushing cause' you've known it from the start, there's more than one way to lose your fucking heart"

89. "When the screams echo in the Hanniger mine, Cupid's calling for a homicide"

90. "'Cause roses are red and violets are blue, they'll need your dental records to identify you"

91. "Is it pleasure or pain?"

92. "On his command, they'll tear your soul apart!"

93. "At the right price, you're just a pretty piece of meat"

94. "Ditch the gag, no white flag, let me hear you squeal!"

95. "I'm going old school, a gun is too American!"

96. "Don't get close to the glass, and be careful"

97. "If he smells your fear he'll eat you alive"

98. "Contrast his nasty habit with my refined palette, then tell me who kills in poor taste"

99. "Don't let a good meal go to waste"

100. "We've all found a flavor we can't resist"

rules & guidelines

song fic prompts (ongoing)

FILM QUOTE PROMPTS

1. "Yeah, you know, we were drinking and then this guy came along and tried to break into the cabin. We had no choice but to get rough."

2. "So you two can fuckin rot, but not me, no fuckin way not me!"

3. "Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds... true love?"

4. "I... love you too much to condemn you."

5. "Should you leave these rooms, you will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old and has many bad memories. Be warned."

6. "Gentlemen like me have to be very careful of what we do and say."

7. "This I did not intend. I saw a light but did not know where it was headed. I have tresspassed on your domain. I've gone further than man should go. Forgive me. Help me!"

8. "You can make it last, dear. Oh, I love you. Be near me always."

9. "Whatever you do... don't fall asleep."

10. "I just asked you to do one thing, to stay awake and watch me and to wake me up if it looked like I was having a bad dream, and what did you do, you shit?"

11. "This is just a dream, this isn't real. This is just a dream, he isn't real. He isn't..."

12. "I don't know who he is, but he's burned and he wears a weird hat and a red and green sweater, really dirty. And he uses these knives, like giant fingernails..."

13. "You're doomed! You're all doomed!"

14. "You'll never come back again"

15. "He neglected to mention that downtown they call this place Camp Blood."

16. "It's Halloween. Everyone's entitled to one good scare."

17. "Death has come to your little town, Sheriff."

18. "I just can't take no pleasure in killing. There's just some things you gotta do. Don't mean you have to like it."

19. "Congratulations. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore."

20. "Know that I'm not lying. Better hurry up. Live or die, make your choice."

21. "Help! Someone help me! Is someone there? Hey! Oh shit, I'm probably dead."

22. "Fuck this shit!"

23. "Oh for fuck's sake! I give up!"

24. "By the way, that's a flammable substance smeared on your body, so I would be careful with that candle if I were you... "

25. "If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."

26. "Can't rain all the time..."

27. "This is the really real world, there ain't no coming back. We killed you dead, there ain't no coming back! There ain't no coming back! There ain't no coming back!"

28. "I'm not gonna kill you. Your job will be to tell the rest of them that death is coming for them, tonight."

29. "Y'know the thing about a shark, he's got... lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'... until he bites ya. And those black eyes roll over white, and then... oh, then you hear that terrible high-pitch screamin', the ocean turns red, and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin', they all come in and they... rip you to pieces."

30. "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

31. "This shark, swallow you whole. Little shakin', little tenderizin', an' down you go."

32. "I'm not going to waste my time arguing with a man who's lining up to be a hot lunch."

33. "Now this guy, he... he keeps swimmin' around in a place where the feeding is good until the food supply is gone, right?"

34. "Boys, oh boys... I think he's come back for his noon feeding."

35. "You yell barracuda, everybody says, "Huh? What?" You yell shark, we've got a panic on our hands on the Fourth of July."

36. "I think that I am familiar with the fact that you are going to ignore this particular problem until it swims up and bites you on the ass!"

37. "You bet your sorry ass I did."

38. "No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!"

39. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

40. "You've seen one too many movies!"

41. "There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie."

42. "And number three: never, ever, ever under any circumstances say, "I'll be right back." Because you won't be back."

43. "Okay, I'll see you in the kitchen with a knife."

44. "You already cut me too deep. I think I'm dying here, man!"

45. "Ow! You fuckin' hit me with the phone, dick!"

46. "Then you should know that Jason's mother, Mrs. Voorhees was the original killer. Jason didn't show up until the sequel. I'm afraid that was a wrong answer."

47. "Careful. This is the moment when the supposedly dead killer comes back to life, for one last scare."

48. "You hang up on me again and I'll gut you like a fish!"

49. "Never say "who's there?" Don't you watch scary movies? It's a death wish. You might as well come out to investigate a strange noise or something."

50. "See, it's a lot more scarier when there's no motive"

rules

song fic prompts (ongoing)

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see-arcane · 6 months

Note

What are your favorite things about reading/writing horror?

It's equal parts eerily lighthearted "It feels fun to me!" and "It satisfies a craving I have for a Force greater than human evil and human power."

You may have noticed that I have an almost exclusive preference for supernatural horror versus, say, strictly human psychological dramas and thrillers. I make exceptions for over-the-top displays like Saw and Hannibal because they take place in a reality so theatrical they border on the edge of impossible. But I'll stay away from stories in the vein of The Purge, Megan is Missing, and The Poughkeepsie Tapes because there really are kernels of plausibility in people committing these atrocities. That flavor just ends up depressing more than scaring me. Hence why all my scribbling has some element of the fantastic in it--humanity is never left alone with itself. It's always humans plus Something Else.

To get up on a soapbox about participating in the horror genre as a whole, I'd also say I enjoy it because of the freedom it comes with. The absolute lack of a mandate to be polite and polished and safe for consumption.

In a world that's becoming increasingly saturated with self-censorship, social media and literature and films that infantilize and reduce language into a sellable package, and everyone taking a microscope to their outward performance and the lives of strangers in some warped neo-Puritan Satanic Panic 2.0 race to point fingers at anyone who isn't Ethically Consuming Good (tm) Positive (c) Content (r) because anyone who enjoys/makes icky evil scary media must OBVIOUSLY be just as obscene as the monsters in them...

Well.

Horror is a blissful oasis of blood, fire, terror, and many a devilish or undead middle finger raised in salute to today's pearl-clutching stone-throwers.

The short version: My favorite thing about reading and writing (and watching and listening to!) horror is that it scratches a specific itch in my brain. I couldn't not participate in it if I tried 👁

#even shorter version: I would crack like an egg if I wasn't doing this shit Anon #on that note #I probably owe folks an update on The Vampyres and it's trudge toward publication #but not until I have some bones put together about it #anyway #horror #writing

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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

Text

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

My writing brain is on a roll with the Meddling Mar au, so that's what y'all are getting once again lol (Faulty Info has been Fighting Me, but I'm finally in the home stretch for chapter 10)

Part One, Parts Two and Three, Part Four, Part Five

The second day was the hardest.

It was the first time Jak remembered waking up, not that he was awake for all that long.

There was an itch in the crook of his right arm, but he couldn’t even muster the strength to lift a finger, let alone scratch at the offending sensation. He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t move his limbs.

The smell of antiseptic permeated everything.

If he'd had anything in his stomach, he would have vomited.

Seconds, minutes, hours- Jak had no way of knowing how much time was passing. Or if it was even passing at all. One moment he would hear voices near him, the next there would be nothing but the whirring of fans and an ever-present, infuriating beeping.

He hated the beeping.

As if it somehow knew that, the sound would get faster the angrier he got. But being angry was as exhausting as everything else, and soon enough the beeps would slow down as everything spun into nothingness again.

Jak dreamed -- though what he'd dreamed, he couldn't have said afterwards. There were only impressions of colors and voices and an endless sea.

Sometimes he woke to something blessedly cool resting against his head. Mostly he wasn't awake long enough to pin down any specific sensations at all.

He woke periodically through the night, each time expecting Daxter to be there.

He never was. There were only solemn, painted faces looming over him and chanting prayers.

Jak decided he was still dreaming.

The longest he was awake was the moment they took out the IV. Until then, he hadn't even known there had been a needle. Jak remembered screaming, yanking his arm away from the old woman. It was more movement than he'd been ready for, and he'd collapsed against the pillow, out of breath.

The woman didn't scold him for making her job more difficult. Instead she had cooed and apologized -- apologized!! -- to him for hurting him. Hurting him!

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, dear," she'd clucked, wrapping a bandage tightly around his elbow. "I know that stung. I'm sorry. That was the last one, promise."

That was how Jak found out he'd been hooked to electrolyte solutions for two days after collapsing in the desert. He'd panicked again, looking around frantically for his companions.

He was alone.

The old woman squeezed his hand and propped a pillow up behind his back. The gentleness of it all very nearly brought him to tears.

She wouldn't if she knew I was an eco freak.

She wouldn't be so kind if she knew I was just the Precursors' spare key.

"Mm-" Jak's voice was rusty with disuse, cracked and no louder than a whisper. "Mm-y b- bro-ther-?"

A calm smile split the woman's leathery pink face, and she patted his hand comfortingly.

"We released him to the convalescing ward just last night, love. You know, you probably saved his life, wrapping him up like that."

She nodded with approval.

"That was a very brave thing you did."

Jak wet his lips and tried to ask about Daxter. Fear held his lungs in icy claws, threatening that he didn't want to know the answer.

He slept again.

The next time he remembered being awake, it was night, and a man with glasses was writing something on a datapad at his bedside. He stared at the man and gripped the thin sheet that had been draped over him.

The man looked up and blinked in surprise.

"Oh! Bless me, you're awake! Hello there, young warrior. You've certainly had a close call, haven't you?"

"Where am I?" Jak tried to ask, but all that came out was, "Where-?"

"Emergency clinic," the man answered. "My name is Petros, I'm a pediatrician."

A what now? Jak had never heard that word before. His confusion must have been somewhat obvious, because the thin man clarified, "a doctor who treats kids under eighteen."

Under eighteen?

Well. Jak had always known he didn't actually have an autumn birthday like Daxter, but he would've thought he'd be at least eighteen by now. The doctor was probably assuming he was younger because he was short. Those dark eco experiments had really messed with his growth.

Deciding to humor the man -- because he couldn't think of anything else to do -- Jak slowly accepted a tin cup from him. The water had a slightly metallic taste, but it was far cleaner than anything he'd had in Haven. It felt like heaven, cooling his dry throat and clearing his head. Was it because it was clean? Jak examined the bottom of the cup warily.

"Just a bit of green eco mixed in," Petros said, a little too cheerfully for Jak's taste, "We already reversed the organ damage with the high-grade stuff. This is just to soothe your throat a bit."

"Or- organ damage?!" Jak's fingers tightened on the cup.

"Now," the doctor said briskly, ignoring him, "You've still got a long recovery ahead of you. Judging by the bone scans we did, you've been through quite a lot, and your body is still playing catch-up."

He stood up, groaning as his knees crackled and popped, and slid his notes into his pocket.

"I'm going to bring you some more water, and a little broth -- slow sips, mind you. Let's not have you making yourself ill -- and when you've finished, you're going to take a cool bath."

Jak shifted uncomfortably in the cot. "What's the cost?" he demanded, "Nobody does this for free."

Petros leaned back as if startled. His eyebrows climbed so high they almost vanished into his receding hairline. For a few seconds he said nothing. Then, he sagged, looking as if he'd aged a few more years with the space of a breath.

"Ah," he said, almost sadly, "I see. Been that sort of life for you, has it? Well I don't charge minors, so you don't need to worry about that. If you and the little one end up being assigned a temporary guardian to help you transition into city life, they'll deal with the cost."

Then, seeing that Jak wasn't convinced, he pasted on a small smile and shrugged.

"But, when you've been deemed to be sufficiently recovered, you can always bring me some medicinal herbs from the clifftop farms, like the other children usually do."

"I'm not a child," Jak muttered with a scowl.

Petros took this in stride. "Adolescent, then. Still got a couple years before you'll be allowed to pitch in with any of the heavier work around here, at any rate. But you can discuss that with Damas once the monks let you out of convalescence."

"What," Jak said slowly, "does that even mean?"

The doctor smiled blandly and began to walk away. "Later. Right now, we get food in you. Then you wash off the paint and get some rest. Before dawn tomorrow, you'll be moved to the convalescing ward with your brother."

Paint? What paint?

Jak frowned and, for the first time, realized that his cheeks felt a little stiff even after the water. Cautiously, he reached up and touched two fingers to the skin. A flake of white came back on his fingertips, and his eyes widened.

He held the tin cup close to his face and stared at the reflection.

A broad, red stripe had been painted in an arc over the bridge of his nose and down to his jaw, ending in an old pictograph for "peace" on his throat. The rest of his face had been painted bone-white.

They had shaved him to make the paint lay even on his chin.

He looked like a little kid like this!

"Oh what the-?!"

Petros paused and looked back. He grimaced.

"Ah. It's...well son, I don't want to scare you, but we almost lost you the night you came in. The monks started giving you last rites before the eco kicked in and your body really started fighting."

"Last rites?!"

Jak's breathing quickened, and his chest felt constricted.

They'd touched him while he slept. Took a blade to his face. What else had they done? How much had they seen?

He resisted a sudden, overwhelming urge to check the pocket Tess had sewn into the lining of his pants, just to make sure his and Mar's seal was still there.

"Wh- where's my brother? Where's Daxter?"

We need to leave.

Petros tilted his head. "Daxter? That's your brother's name?"

The misunderstanding was just weird enough to let Jak get a full breath before the panic settled into something more manageable.

"What? No? He's-"

"He's Mar" almost slipped out of Jak's mouth, but he stopped himself just in time.

He didn't know where they were, or how far from Haven they'd gotten. He wasn't going to risk word getting back to the Council.

"He's the orange guy," he amended quickly. "Where is he?"

The understanding on the doctor's face was a welcome relief. He knew what Jak was talking about. That had to mean Daxter was okay, right?

"Oh yes!" Petros nodded. "Last I heard, that little fella has been standing guard over your little brother. He's bitten at least one monk so far."

Jak fell back against the pillow, feeling as though he'd just run a marathon.

"He's okay," he gasped. "They're okay."

"Thanks to you, yes. They're okay."

Petros assured him. Then he was all business again.

"Now: no more stalling! Soup, and then bath. And don't even think about trying to sneak out of that bed! I've been doing this for twenty-five years, and I've got a sixth sense for teenagers sabotaging their own recovery!"

He shuffled off, leaving Jak worn out and thoroughly bewildered.

Who are these people?!

________________________________,_________

Mar was bored.

Incredibly, infuriatingly, bored.

He wasn't hooked up to the beeping box anymore -- the one the doctor lady said measured his heartbeat -- but that didn’t mean he was free to run around. For the first day after the needle came out, he'd been too tired to move at all. Now he still got tired easily, but he didn't want to sleep! He wanted to find Jak!

But every time he got out of bed, one of the people with the colorful face paint would find him and take him back!

Once, a man with spikes in his head had found Mar, halfway up a staircase where he'd run out of breath. He had given him a very strange look, and then the next thing Mar knew he was being carried back to bed.

At this point, he was pretty sure the horned man was the painted people's guard, to make sure he didn't escape. Because now every time he made it to the door, the horned man was somewhere nearby. All he had to do was give Mar a Look, and it was enough to send him scurrying back to bed.

At least Daxter was here. Mar didn't think he could've endured it if neither of his big brothers was present.

"Do you think Jak’s okay?"

Mar pulled his knees up to his chest and frowned at the curtains around his bed. He'd seen grown-ups in the other beds when he'd tried to sneak out before, usually with casts on limbs or sleeping. They weren't mean or scary, but they usually ignored him.

Generic adult behavior.

If Jak had been in one of the other twelve beds, he would have come to check on Mar by now.

Daxter stretched to peer through a gap in the curtains. Then he sighed and returned to carding through Mar's coily hair with a comb that had been left unattended.

"I...I dunno, kiddo. The last time I saw him he-"

Daxter swallowed and forced the words out.

"He wasn't lookin' so good."

Mar's stomach clenched with worry. He gnawed a thumbnail for a few seconds, then asked in subdued signs, "What do we do if he- if something happened to Jak?"

The ottsel let go of the comb -- leaving it vertical in the boy's hair -- and scrambled around to take Mar's face in his hands.

"I'm gonna stick by you, that's what. It's you, me, and Jak, to the end of the line." He squeezed Mar's cheeks to punctuate his words. "I p- I promise, kiddo. One of us is always gonna be here to look out for you."

With a sniffle, the little boy suddenly reached out and dragged Daxter into his arms. He clung to him like a lifeline -- like Jak used to when they were very little. And just like with Jak, Daxter didn't need to see Mar's hands to know what he was saying.

I'm scared, Daxter.

Daxter wrapped his arms around the kid's neck and sighed. "Me too, kid. Me too."

You'd better be okay, Jak.

#jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #meddling mar au #continuation #jak and daxter mar #jak 3 #spargan ocs #Jak is me when I got my wisdom teeth out lol #based on the line in the game where Damas mentions that Jak nearly died after they brought him to Spargus #Damas: 'I know he's not Mar. I'm not gonna hover.'#Also Damas: hovers anyway #fic prompts #writing prompts

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eraasaa · 3 months

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The terror of putting pen on paper

If you ever see me running, screaming and bawling, it probably isn't me, because out of the many things I haven't done in a long time, running seems to be the clearest distant-foggy-memory, 'clear' because it's oddly painful for how irrelevant (right?) it should be. But, in this carefully crafted hypothetical which serves to qualify the intensity of an emotion (you guess, joy, right?), that is indeed me. I am quite puzzled about whether to assume that this is common or not, and thus accordingly speak in an "Oh hello goofers, don't we hate it when this happens, alrighty" tone or in "I hereby exist in the swallow of loneliness, scratching through a thin veil of unpierceable clouds" this. ummmu hmmmmmm huhhhhhhhhhhhhhh So, imagine this, you fancy yourself a creative (the jury is still out), but the act of creation seems revolting. "What if I am not able to finish it" "I barely finish anything, I won't do this either" "I need the perfect situation to begin" "Oh, I only need the exact and precise tools and resources to begin" "I must be in a creative and positive mindset, so as to use my magnificent brain and create to my best potential" "It's so easy, what is the point of doing it" "Isn't it a grand ol deal, a massive feat, a giant process to add something of your own (no matter how derivative) to something sometimes non-existent, or something with an existence different than of your creations?" This is what I want to explore I suppose, sorry for the impression that this was going to be about the ruts in/during the act of creation, I can say some things about it, but for me to be actually saying something, I would have to create, and that, is still in the works. In an extension of and in specificity, I fear writing things down, physically. Writing (typing) digitally, no problem (And... I lie, some problem, but that's a different one, not doing a thorough mental analysis today). It feels like hearing that horrible sound of thermocol rubbing against each other, or a metal piece screeching against a chalk board. There seems to be a visceral physical reaction, my body, 'my?' body?, unwilling to ruin the beauty of a void, that is this blank page that tortures me. It's as if, the sheer idea of not perfectly putting down these odd marks which dictate our written language, is disgusting. How can I allow for the words to not be in symmetry with the line above or for them to not be aligned as I imagined, how can there be no way to erase and reverse and add things exactly where they fit, how can there be no space for mistakes existing only as a phantom. How can there be a record of mistakes, an archive of imperfections? The fear must be from here? The pretentious apathy masking a shivering anger when deviating from the thought, from imperfections of the body. I want to be perfect, and I want to not start towards perfection for it is easier.

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brandnewhuman · 1 year

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In my super sour skittles induced pain I am once again having small brain thoughts about unhinged men

MY NEW VICTIM IS ELIJAH. YOU ALL KNEW THIS WAS COMING BROS, I HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH TO BRING HAVOC INTO THE DBH FANDOM.

i was feeding my little silly obsession of the moment and I have notice something

I see so many writing Elijah as a creep or some sort of unhinged manipulator who gives zero fucks about anyone

I AM ONCE AGAIN GOING TO PROVE HOW YOU ALL ARE WRONG. I DID IT WITH BO SINCLAIR AND NOW IM GONNA DO IT WITH MY GEN Z KING

I hate the headcanon of him not caring about androids or being like some sort of perv towards anyone. While I do think he has a god complex I don't think he's that narcissistic and mean as everyone makes him out to be

I know, I just know he tries to overcompensate how insecure he is by putting on this more cold and calculate persona. I feel like he's the type of person who struggles to find a something to fit in, he fears people and is scared of the idea they might get of him so he just distance himself before anyone can get close enough.

Like I can totally see him doing the most to create a specific idea of himself to others so they don't have the chance to hate on his real self. He prefers to be criticise for what he has choose to be seen as rather for who he really is

I was ready a character study a couple of days ago about him being bullied a lot growing up and it totally makes sense with how he is. Like this man put himself into creating basically a replica of human life perfect and you mean to tell me that the only reason behind it it's because he wanted to be seen as some sort of god? NO, THIS MOTHERFUCKER WANTED A FRIEND AND HE ALWAYS FELT LIKE NO HUMAN PERSON WOULD EVER WANT HIM.

CHLOE WAS PERFECT TO HIM CAUSE SHE WOULD'VE NEVER LEARN TO BE AS CRUEL AS A HUMAN. CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG (DON'T DO IT BECAUSE IM NEVER WRONG) BUT I HAVE NEVER SEEN AN ANDROID BEING CRUEL, CHLOE WAS ALL HE NEEDED BECAUSE SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD UNDERSTAND HIM AND GET TO KNOW HIM NO MATTER WHAT.

CAUSE HE ALWAYS FELT TO DIFFERENT AND OUT OF PLACE WITH OTHER PEOPLE SINCE EVERYONE THINKS OF HIM AS A EMOTIONLESS AND CREEPY BASTARD

HOW I KNOW? CAUSE I KNOW, I ALWAYS KNOW. HE JUST WANTED A FRIEND, AND I GENUINELY THINK HE WANTED TO CREATE MORE ANDROIDS SO EVERY PERSON WHO HAS EVER FELT LIKE HIM COULD FEEL LESS LONELY.

Like no FR imagine being 16 and being the weird super smart kid in a college full of older fuckers who are always treating you either as if you were just a stupid kid or as the bottom of the joke because of the things you like or BC of the way you are. IMAGINE HOW LONELY HE MUST HAVE FELT

listen, I used to be the type of kid who was considered super weird and I used to be like super affectionate with everyone which ended up in being brutally bullied I JUST KNOW THAT HE WAS THE TYPE OF KID WHO WAS ALWAYS TRYING TO BE FRIENDLY AND KIND BUT EVERYONE MADE HIM FEEL BAD ABOUT IT. LIKE YOU DON'T ISOLATE YOURSELF LIKE THAT OUT OF THE BLUE JUST BC YOU HATE INTERVIEWS AND STUFF, BRO IS QUITE LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF IM NOT JUST A BITCH, IM A BITCH WITH A BACKSTORY.

Also, I don't know why people say he doesn't care about androids and it's just happy causing problems ecc. HE VERY MUCH DOES CARE THANK YOU, I DON'T IF ANYONE HAS NOTICED BUT WHEN YOU CHOOSE TO SHOT CHLOE DURING THE KAMSKI TEST AND HE'S ANSWERING QUESTIONS ECC THERE'S A MOMENT WHERE HE GOES NEAR HER BODY AND PATS HER HEAD. I KID YOU NOT, I SWEAR I CAN ALMOST SEE HIM HESITATING BEFORE TOUCHING HER

You can't fucking tell me that man didn't almost had s fucking heart attack as soon as Connor and Hank left

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THAT SCRATCHED IDEA OF HIM HOLDING BACK THE OG CHLOE FROM GOING INSIDE THE POOL BC SHE'S NOT WATERPROOF

He's JUST A WEIRD KID AND HE'S GEN Z, HE'S NOT A CREEP AND HE'S NOT THAT MEAN. STOP THIS MADNESS OF MAKING HIM LOOK LIKE SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT. HE JUST DIDN'T PICKED A FUCKING STRUGGLE, LEAVE HIM ALONE

#Elijah kamski #elijah kamski dbh #detroit become human #dbh #dbh fandom

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cornerstoreclown · 1 year

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I finally got back into writing slowly by beginning with posting Art fanfic on a sideblog, and the inspiration came from you! Your writing style just scratches that specific itch of mine. I'm iffy with fics but it feels like you picked out the deepest and most nuanced desires from my brain. I'm supporting each work you post and I admire your work ethic, it's mind-blowing coming from a (trying) sentence a day writer like me haha. Decided to share this since I'm so hyped for the upcoming nsfw fic aaa it's like Christmas. Thank you! <3, 🦇

REALLY??? You MUST show me it once you’re done! Or like, tag me in it or something, if you feel comfortable in doing so!!

That’s a high compliment, thank you so much. 🥺❤️ I try my best! I’ve been writing since I was like, 12. I’m almost 30 now so I’ve been in the game for a long time. I get it though, writing is very hard. I have ADHD and am somewhere on the spectrum as well, so I totally sympathize. I found making a queue like on my page, and tracking progress tends to help me. It keeps me accountable, but also I’m a project manager and coordinator at my full time job, so it could also be that which helps me haha.

While I am not a copy by ANY stretch of the imagination, the writing flow I developed came from my favorite author, Eric Jerome Dickey. He passed away not too long ago and I mourn him. He’s the man behind my inspiration when it comes to writing style. Amazing author. I have a huge collection of his books.

Thank you so so much for your kind words! 🥺❤️❤️ I hope if you publish what you’re working on, you show me! I can also provide guidance or proofreading too if you’d ever like help. I’ve been helping two people already with their fics! We are all in a tiny community here and I love to help. 🙏

#OHHH I see a bat emoji?? is this your identifier?#I will use the bat emoji for you then!#🦇 anon #cornerstore asks

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intheseautumnhands · 2 years

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I wish you would write a fic where polyguild are soulmates (I want to see your take!) and generally have a lovely comfortable time (because you're so good at that kind of mood)

The meme said a tidbit and apparently my brain went "write 1.5k of soul mark discovery? :D:D:D?" so uh... I hope this satisfies! XD

"Could you stop kicking me?"

It isn't quiet when Egbert asks, but it still feels like it breaks into the calm of the afternoon. Prudence hefts herself up into a sitting position, and that sets off a round of shifting from everyone else, except Dob, who continues to sit in the same position, plucking away at his lute. The angle he's holding it at looks even more awkward without Corazon's head in his lap, giving a reason for him to hold it up.

"Sorry, it's this -- bloody --" Prudence trails off as she scratches at her burning ankle, heel twitching again, this time out of range of Egbert's stomach.

It's the nonstop itch at her ankle that's kept them at sea for ages now. Or more specifically, it's the tattoo around her ankle, and the way Cthulu's mark has been bothering her without any sign of relief or signal for what he might be trying to push her towards.

If not for that itch, Prudence thinks it'd be a nice trip. It's certainly been an interesting one, and not their usual, oh no, something's a little bit on fire and someone's a little bit stabbed sort of interesting.

It's this, instead: quiet days all together, leaning against each other and huddling close, hands lingering when they brush against each other, hardly any of them breaking off to spend time alone for anything more than sleep. Sometimes they talk. More often, they don't. Every time someone does, it feels like there's a moment they all hold their breath and wait for them to acknowledge this isn't how they usually are.

(Not this long, at least, and not all of them, together. There have been moments -- Prudence has had them, has seen them from afar. But it's never been these days on end before.)

"It's all right," Egbert says with a little smile -- and then Corazon's hand is a blur through Prudence's vision, snapping out and pointing at Dob.

"What was that?"

Dob blinks at them all like he hadn't notice they'd moved. "Music?" he offers, and plucks another in demonstration.

"Yes, but what, exactly, is it that you were playing?"

"What was I -- oh." Dob stops, and starts to look a little sheepish. Corazon gets even more confused, in response. Prudence's eyebrow raises, and despite the discomfort, she settles in to watch whatever's going on here, elbow on her knee and chin on her hand.

"Oh?"

"It's -- well." Dob shifts a little bit in place, looks from one of them to the other, and then sighs. "If you must know, it's my soul song."

Everybody straightens a little at that, like the words have charged the air. Prudence didn't even realize Dob had a soul song -- Egbert's mentioned having one, offhand, once or twice, and though Corazon's usually careful to keep his covered, she's caught a glimpse of the staff at the base of his neck before, but Dob's never said anything. She'd assumed he had a word, or something, or they'd have heard the song by now.

"You never mentioned," Merilwen says softly, echoing Prudence's thoughts. Dob turns slightly to look at her more directly, but before he can open his mouth, he's cut off.

"Your soul song?" Corazon says, and leans forward, frowning. "Play it again."

"All right, if you insist…." Dob trails off as he plucks it out again, eight distinct notes. He plays it twice; it's just noise to Prudence, but it's not hard to listen to, at least. Long, as soul songs go.

"That can't be your song, Dob," Corazon says, as the last note hangs in the air, his hand lifting up, fingers resting against the side of his neck, twitching towards the back of it and -- oh.

Prudence can see it hit Merilwen, a second a later. Dob is still frowning, mumbling that he knows his own song, thank you very much, before he stops mid-word, eyes going wide.

"Oh!" Egbert's a second later, looking between the two of them. "So you're… soulmates?"

"I…. Maybe?" Dob still sounds confused, awestuck, eyes on Corazon, who sighs after a second and turns around, shifting backwards.

Dob lifts his hand to brush Corazon's hair out of the way, and it's gentle, cautious in a way Prudence hardly realized he had in him.

"Yes, that's -- that's it." Dob pauses. "I'd show you mine, but it's, uh--" He gestures at himself, but they already know it's somewhere below his clothes, since none of them have ever gotten a look at it, to Prudence's knowledge.

"That's all right." Corazon sounds stunned as well, as he shifts back so he can see all of them again, including Dob. Mostly Dob. The two of them keep looking at each other; Prudence is torn between the desire to keep watching, and the feeling that someone should probably suggest they give them privacy, when Merilwen speaks up.

"It's -- eight notes, is it?" she asks, tentatively, and her hand is wrapped around her arm, just below the elbow. Under her shirt, Prudence remembers seeing once or twice, is the band that she wears to cover her mate's mark.

"Yeah," Dob says, tearing his eyes away from Corazon to look at her. "Do elves consider that good luck, too?"

"They do," Merilwen says, though she sounds a little distracted, tugging at her sleeve. "Long song, happy life, and all that. Can you -- could you play it again?"

Dob seems to have stopped questioning, because he picks up his lute and plays it a third time, a little more slowly. His eyes are half-closed as he does it, so he misses Merilwen rolling up her sleeve and slowly pulling down the band that fits snugly to her arm.

Prudence can't read music, but she knows a staff, and she can count the notes picked out in ink against Merilwen's skin. Eight notes is long enough to be getting rare. It could be a coincidence, but….

Corazon leans far enough forward to try and see it that he almost topples over, and if Prudence wasn't already sure, that would clinch it.

"Merilwen?" Dob says, as he lowers his lute, understanding starting to dawn across his face, and Merilwen holds her arm out to him.

"Is that it?"

The way he traces the rise and fall of the notes with the tip of his finger is answer enough, even before his quiet, "Yes."

Prudence looks at Egbert, who's gone quiet, watching the two of them, his expression soft. If it wasn't for this last long journey, she doesn't think she'd ask -- mates in groups happens, but it's ludicrous to imagine it could have happened this neatly, that all of them would have met and not knows for so long. So unlikely that it sounds like some bard's tale, not real life.

But it feels more possible, now, with the way things have been falling into place. Enough that Prudence clears her throat, and asks, "Egbert, don't you have a song as well?"

Egbert looks over at her, and hesitates before he nods. "I do, but it's sort of… hard to read. Once the scales came in…." He shrugs, and lifts a hand to gesture to La Vache Mauve's mark, the purple halo across his brow that doesn't quite connect in several places. "It's like that, but worse."

"Do you remember how long it is?" Corazon asks, and Egbert nods.

It's not a surprise when he says, "Eight notes. The Order has it in record, somewhere, but I never heard it played. Still, that's…."

"I bet it is," Dob says. His smile's so big Prudence thinks it must hurt.

It's quiet as everyone lets it sink in, and then Merilwen turns. "Prudence, do you…."

There's another of those moments, like everyone's holding their breath, but all Prudence can do is shrug. "I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know. It was a song, but I never paid it much attention. And the pact mark, it covers it. I haven't seen it in years."

Prudence reaches a hand down as she mentions the mark, scratches absently at the ankle that -- doesn't itch, she realizes suddenly. Hasn't itched in a few minutes now.

"Wait, what?" she asks, aloud, and ignores the others' responses as she uncrosses her legs. Her boots have been off as much as she can manage with the way her ankle's been bothering her, so it's only a second to uncover the skin there.

The inky tentacle always wrapped around her ankle has shifted; recently, it must have been, because she knows she's looked since this all started. It still winds its way around her skin, glistening in a way soul marks don't, a representation of Cthulu's influence, but it's no longer straight around, coming up wrapped around her foot and the tip curled back around the rest and out of sight.

The tip dips down now, curving beneath her ankle bone and disappearing below her heel. Half the skin that had once been covered by it is there again, her soul song standing out, surrounded on either side but clear.

"What," she says again, blinking down at it, and then stretches her leg out across the loose circle of the group. Corazon takes hold of it, turning it gently so the mark is easier to see, eight notes that are starting to become familiar bright on her skin.

#m: team chaos team #ficbitlings #the urge to put this on ao3 #with the tag #'cthuludad ships it'#is very strong right now #that is all

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writing-for-life · 1 year

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I’m A NaNoWriMo Winner - But It Doesn’t Feel Like Winning

I went over the finishing line today with a bit more than 52,000 words. Supposedly, that’s a cause for celebration. And in a way, it is. I wrote those words in one month. I wrote every day, sometimes a lot, sometimes only a paragraph. I persevered.

But in perseverance also lies a conundrum, because my goal for this NaNoWriMo had mostly been to relax. I didn’t want to work on current WiPs this year, because I didn’t want any additional pressure to push ahead with something that’s already cooking, or to even finish something. That’s why I decided to write fan-fiction. No plotting in advance, total start from scratch on day one.

I have published several (mostly steamy) romance novels, all under a pen name (if I told you, I would need to kill you, because this account is specifically for no-pressure-writing, pointless stanning and general shit-posting). I have social media accounts for my pen name, and I also have social accounts under my real name, where I post scientific writing/non-fiction/work-related stuff. I felt burned out, so I didn’t want to do any of these things.

And then this happened:

The “no-pressure NaNoWriMo” really backfired.

I’m not a plotter, so I usually start wherever my fancy takes me and develop it from there. It’s a process that has always worked for me, and it works for me because I spend time on it. A lot of time. Not just four weeks.

This one was different. I started with the intention to have fun and go right in with the steamy stuff. And then my own attachment to the subject matter got in the way, because I just couldn’t write it the way I normally would. So I didn’t. There’s still ample (gratuitous) sex, but it’s a lot softer and less explicit than I normally write. I’m fine with that, but it has its own challenges, so call that obstacle one.

Obstacle two: I wanted to keep it lighthearted, but my weird writer brain didn’t agree, and it turned really dark in places. Much more serious than I had intended. Which made the whole thing feel disjointed: Serious stuff - Fluff - Serious stuff - Fuckery.

Obstacle three: I got strange ideas that I needed to research, look into, develop, start plotting out (which the pantser in me hates, but needs must). And I still have a lot of gaps and plot holes to fill so the whole thing makes sense.

I now have 52,000 words, and they are nowhere near a finished novel. Not that it has to be a finished novel, but I want to finish it. And I also don’t. Because finishing it, and developing it into something I even remotely like, will require a lot of work (like an additional 50,000 words type of work). And do I want to put that work into something I just started for fun?

I could walk away from it now, post it here or on Ao3 and not give a hoot. I know there will be people in the fandom who don’t care as long as there’s enough you-know-what (which they have to wait for a bit, since this isn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am short).

But I do give a hoot, because I care about writing.

Long story short: I don’t think writing will ever be a relaxing experience for me. Why do I love it so much when it gives me so much brain pain?

#writers #the sandman #writeblr #writer problems #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #nanowrimo #nano22 #sandman #sandman fandom #sandman fanfiction #fanfiction #plotting #pantser #writer burnout #ao3

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messers-moony · 3 years

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Comics | A.G

Paring: Aidan Gallagher X Fem!Reader

Summary: Aidan meets an unusually pretty girl at a library while trying to find a textbook for school

Warnings: Cursing

This male was not easily captivated by females. His heart was guarded with the highest of security. Being hurt multiple times was the reason for his high guard.

Not only that, but he was surrounded by actresses and models his entire life. Pretty girls didn’t phase him. Smart girls did. Intelligence was a significant impresser for him.

This girl, whom he found himself falling for, was extremely intelligent. She was a good beauty, of course, but her smarts are what made her stand out. Her sense of style was odd as well.

Her earrings had Yahtzee tiles, the right ear had the letter F, and the left had the letter U. She wouldn’t be her without her signature, Doc Martens. A blank jacket usually resided around her waist, along with a graphic tee covering her chest. Jeans or leggings were generally on her legs.

Aidan adored her. She was gorgeous, and her brains were brilliant. Her personality was bright, just like her vibrant dyed hair. This girl we’ve been speaking about, you may ask? Her name was Y/n L/n, and she was brilliant.

Y/n had finished college by the time she was just twenty, and Aidan was just finishing his associate's degree. They met at a library.

She was browsing through the comic book section like she frequently did. He was looking for a textbook, but his eyes were caught on this extraordinary female sitting at a table alone. The textbook had fallen from his hands, causing a clattering noise.

Y/n perked up at the sound and saw him. He was cute, in her opinion. But he seemed so far out of her league. He was adorable. He picked up the textbook and sent her an awkward smile that made her heart race.

She looked over at the nervous male and sent him a wink which caused his cheeks to flush a scarlet. Aidan walked over and bought the textbook. Then with hesitation, he walked to her table and sat before her.

Y/n slowly looked up from her comic book to see him with an open textbook out, accompanied by an iPad which was meant for writing notes. Y/n’s head laid in the palms of her hands.

“ Did I startle you? “ Aidan queried nervously, “ No, not at all. But it seems that I have surprised you. “ Y/n smirked, and Aidan blushed again.

“ Y- You did startle me. “ Aidan stammered, “ That’s adorable. “ Y/n snickered.

“ Whatcha got their pretty boy? “ Y/n questioned, trying to glimpse at the textbook, “ O- Oh, it’s um- “ Aidan began as he scrambled through his notes.

“ It’s my last class. I need to get my associate's degree. I graduate in December. “ Aidan answered, “ I remember those days. “ Y/n reminisced.

Aidan furrowed his eyebrows at the girl, “ Got a question for me? “ Y/n teased, “ I don’t mean to be rude, but how old are you? “ Aidan asked out of pure curiosity.

“ Twenty years old graduated college with my bachelors in May. “ Y/n responded, and Aidan was taken aback, “ H- How? “

Y/n chuckled, “ I started college my junior year of high school. I work as a comic book artist. This is part of my work. I analyze comic books because it helps me when working to draw my characters. “

“ H- Have you read The Umbrella Academy? “ Aidan inquired, “ Indeed. It was one of my assignments to analyze it in college. I’ve also watched the Netflix series. You are Number Five, if I’m not mistaken. “ Y/n explained.

Aidan visually gulped, “ Y- Yeah. I did play Number Five. “ Aidan replied, “ So you’re the famous Aidan Gallagher. “ Y/n taunted.

“ I guess so. “ Aidan responded, “ So Whats someone as famous as you talking to little me? Mm? “

Aidan’s cheeks flushed again, “ Y- You caught my eye. I think you’re pretty. “ The male nervously spoke, “ But if the rumors are true, beauty doesn’t appeal to you. Intelligence does. “ Y/n replied with a slight smirk.

Aidan didn’t speak. She knew him or knew about him. She was smart, brilliant. She had all her facts and knew them like the back of her hand. It left him astonished.

“ Might wanna close your mouth. You might catch swallow a fly by accident. However, it’s just a suggestion. “ Y/n winked, and Aidan immediately closed his jaw.

Without another second passing, Y/n stood up with her book in hand. Then she exited the building. Aidan was left in shock at the forward female. Now he was left wondering if he would ever see him again.

A couple of days later, it was Saturday. This meant that Aidan would go live for his Patreon. Secretly he hoped that the girl would join. Hell, he didn’t even get her name. He’d never find her again.

Aidan started the live, and immediately the chat was filled with different comments. The male searched through some of them. He was desperately looking for something to start a conversation with.

“ ‘Do you have more music planned?’ “ Aidan read aloud, “ Yes, indeed I do. I’ve recently been overwhelmed with inspiration. “ The male answered.

Again he skimmed through the comments, “ ‘What was the past week like?’ “ Aidan questioned, “ Well, I’d say it was interesting. I met this person getting my textbook for my last class, and they were very intriguing. “

Now the comments were flooded with questions asking who this person was or what they looked like. Aidan scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“ I- I actually didn’t get their name. “ Aidan stuttered out, “ ‘What did they look like?’ Well, they had dyed hair and sported a pair of glasses. They also had Yahtzee earrings. They were really cool lookin’. Regardless they caught my attention. We had a little chat, and then they left. “ Aidan explained.

That’s as far into detail as Aidan got when speaking about her. Truthfully he couldn’t say much more other than how confident and cocky she appeared to be.

After finishing his class on Monday, he scrambled to grab his things and head to the library. But this time, he had a specific gift for the girl who he didn’t know the name of. However, he thought the gift would be much better in her hands than his.

So, without a second thought, Aidan sat down at the same table and began notes. The sound of a bell ringing is what caught his attention. There she was. She was handing the librarian a stack of comic books.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The girl then proceeded to walk out of the door, and Aidan grabbed the gift to follow her.

“ Wait! “ He shouted as he left the library.

Y/n turned around to be met with the boy she met only days ago, “ Hello? “ The confident female chuckled, “ I- I saw you check in all those comic books and not getting any. May I ask why? “ Aidan queried out of breath.

“ Well, if you must know, I’m moving. It turns out Los Angeles isn’t the place for me. “ Y/n responded, her tone airy and light, “ O- Oh. Well, I wanted to give this to you. “ Aidan spoke, slightly disappointed at the news.

Y/n took the comic in his hand. It was the first issue of the Umbrella Academy, “ I love the thought, but I already have a copy. “ Y/n denied softly, “ Open it. “ Aidan replied.

Hesitating, she opened the comic. On the first page was a signature. Not just anyone’s signature. Gerard way’s signature. That had been her idol for years and the entire reason she was in the field of comic book illustrating.

“ D- Do you like it? “ Aidan asked nervously, “ How did you? And why? Stuff like this is valuable. “ Y/n said as thoughts ran past her head.

“ Well, I have the other copies signed at my apartment. I thought this would be much better in your hands. “ The male smiled, “ I hope you don’t mind, but I may have accidentally left a bookmark in there. “

Y/n shook her head, “ No problem. “

Y/n smiled and kissed his cheek. Aidan’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and Y/n smiled as she clutched the comic close to her chest.

“ Y/n L/n. Remember it. “ Y/n winked as she walked away.

Aidan watched as she left him on the sidewalk dumbfounded, “ Oh, I’m so fucked. “ Aidan murmured, knowing he was wrapped around her finger.

#aidan gallagher x reader #aidan gallagher #aidan gallagher imagine #Aidan Gallagher x y/n #Aidan Gallagher x you #five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #number five x reader

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klvbxlove · 3 years

Text

worried (yu x gn! reader)

a/n: God, i’ve got so many ideas for persona 4 fanfics so y’all might see some coming soon LMAO. but no worries, i’ll try my best to write more iida drabbles as well (of course, i could never forget my number one anime husbando. but i’ll be honest, kanji might take his place very soon? maybe? huehuehue). anyways, i saw some persona 4 requests in my inbox (which i did not expect, haha), but i’ll try my best to get to them whenever possible! so until then, enjoy this yu drabble :)

reader type: gender neutral

reader specification(s): none

genre(s): angst, hurt/comfort

trigger warning(s): mentions of car accidents, mentions of injuries

summary: after being a coma from a car accident, you finally woke up, much to the huge relief of your family and friends, especially yu.

word count: 2.6k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(e/c) = eye color (l/n) = last name (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

Today should have been another day of you and the Investigation Team hanging out with Yu. He had come back to Inaba a few days ago for another (surprisingly long) break, and you were excited to see him again.

But unfortunately, no. That day did not happen.

Instead, you found yourself in a hospital room. You had woken up almost a week ago, having no idea what had happened. All you remembered is that as soon as you got the strength to sit up from your hospital bed, you felt nothing but excruciating pain. And when you looked down at your body, your (E/C) eyes widened at the extent of your injuries. You were in terrible condition.

Then a few minutes later, the nurses and doctors rushed into your room in complete shock when they realized you woke up. At first, you were confused. But then they explained everything. From what you could recall, you were hanging out with your friends when you saw Yu’s younger cousin, Nanako, standing in the road. Realizing there was a car heading towards her, your instincts caught up with you, and you quickly pushed the younger girl out of the way, which ultimately resulted in you getting hit.

Unfortunately, the impact was so severe that you had slipped into a coma. Even with the surgery (which luckily was a success), you were still fighting for your life. The staff had no idea if you would even wake up.

Your eyes widened in shock. However, the one thing that made your shock worse was when one of the doctors said that there was a chance you would have died due to the severity of your injuries. “Consider yourself lucky,” one of the doctors said, “Because if not, well, there would not be much we could have done to save you,”

You were in disbelief. You could have died?!

WHAT THE HELL?!

You swear, you almost thought your jaw dropped. You did not even know how long you laid there in bed, thinking of the word ‘died.’

D-I-E-D.

There was nothing but silence (you could almost hear a pin drop) for a few minutes after taking in the news.

Then you heard that your family and friends knew of the accident and you would be able to have visitors in a few days. But all you could do was think about how injured you were. It was bad enough that you were in this condition. However, you could not wrap your brain around the fact that you might have been dead.

And then your family would have to set up a funeral for you, bury your body underground, and you would be there until the end of time.

Maybe you would even have a spirit in whatever place you ended up after death.

Oh God, you could not even think to imagine how your family and friends would react. Especially the Investigation Team--

Wait a minute. The Investigation Team!

Now the worry was starting to kick in. You just realized that you have not heard from your friends since you woke up. Not at least one thing from one of the members (and nothing from Nanako either!). You had no idea if anyone had told them what happened to you when you arrived or the fact that you were alive. Hell, you would not be surprised if they thought you were still in a coma and would be for who knows how long.

You sighed, the apprehension still in you. Today was certainly not your day. You just wanted to be able to hang out with Yu again before he had to go back to Tokyo (even though it was a long way from now). But you had no idea when you would be able to leave the hospital! Not for a while, that was for sure. You might as well try to dwell in pure boredom.

Oh yeah, and also try to ignore the pain. You might have felt slightly better for the past few days, but the agony was still shooting in almost every part of your body. You could only hope that all of this will be over soon. And then later, when you were finally feeling better, you would be back home with your family.

“(L/N)?”

You were in the middle of messing with your bedsheets when you heard your name. Looking up, you saw one of the nurses giving you a small smile as she stood next to your bed. You did not even remember hearing her walk towards you. I guess you got a little too caught up with your bedsheets. “How are you feeling now, sweetheart? Any more pain or anything?”

You looked off to steal a glance at one of the hospital walls. The pain was still there, but it was not bothering you compared to the day you woke up. You could say that you were fine (mostly), but you could not find the strength to tell the nurse for some reason. No, you did not care that you looked like you were staring off into the distance pondering about life.

“(L/N)? Are you alright?”

The voice brought you back to reality, and you saw the nurse looking at you with a somewhat concerned look on her face.

“Oh, sorry. I’m fine, for now,” you said, “No pain or anything,”

“Alright,” the nurse smiled in relief. “I know the staff and I keep telling you this so many times, but if you begin to feel pain or need any assistance, you let someone know, okay?”

“I know, thank you,” you nodded.

“Of course,” the nurse looked over at the door, “Now, you got a visitor who wants to see you. Well, he and a couple of his other friends wanted to see you for a while. We had to tell them no since you were still in a coma at the time, but they were determined to go to your room,” she chuckled sheepishly.

“Who is it?” you asked. The last time you knew, your family members had visited first.

“Yu Narukami, one of your classmates,” the nurse answered. “Would you like me to let him in?”

You blinked before nodding. “Yeah, sure,”

It was only a few seconds of silence you faced in your hospital room. During that timespan, you began to feel nervous about your friend being in the same room as you without the Investigation Team (wherever they were). Your heart was almost beating at the thought of it, and you could feel a blush on your cheeks; if you were capable of blushing, that is.

But before you knew it, you instantly recognized the familiar gray-haired male as he walked inside.

Upon his eyes glancing upon you, Yu’s eyes widened. “(Y-Y/N),” he said, “You’re awake.”

You nodded, giving him a weak smile and waving with your free hand. “Yep, I am.”

Yu walked over to sit at the chair next to your bed. “How have you been lately?”

“Slightly better compared to when I woke up, but only slightly,” you replied honestly. “Still feeling some pain. Hopefully, when I get out of the hospital, I’ll feel much better.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yu gave you a small smile.

Then you paused. “How about the others? Are they okay?--” And of course, there was another person you were worried about, “--What about Nanako? Is she hurt?”

“No need to worry, everyone is alright, just a bit shook up after the incident, though,” Yu said, letting out a light chuckle. “Nanako only had some bruises on her legs when you pushed her out of the way, but that was only it. Everyone would have come to visit you alongside me today, but they got busy. And Nanako came down with some sickness. Not the flu or anything major, but we decided to let her rest until she recovers. They promised they would find the time to visit you when they can.”

You sighed in relief. “At least no one else was hurt. As much as I hate being in the hospital in pain, it’s better than seeing Nanako here for the same reason. I think that would hurt more than my injuries, and they hurt like hell, you know?”

“But being treated for severe injuries in the hospital is still frightening, (Y/N),” Yu pointed out, “Everyone watched as you got hit by the car. It was awful, you know? You were bleeding so much from your head, too.” The gray-haired male felt like he was about to wince in pain, seeing the injuries you had.

“Yeah, I honestly dunno much of what happened after getting hit, other than feeling immense pain,” you admitted, scratching your cheek, “I could only hear muffled voices, but that was it. And then I just closed my eyes. Must have slipped into that coma or something afterward.”

“Maybe you did.”

Moments of silence passed, and Yu felt a knot in his stomach. It had been like that for almost a week. Every time he would think of you in your hospital room in a coma, he would have to go somewhere else alone to relieve his thoughts. But even then, it still was not enough to help him. How could he even talk about his feelings to someone? Yu was aware he had the other members on the Investigation Team to talk to, but he could see them struggling.

There was only one person he could talk to about it.

“(Y/N), I-- Listen,” Yu spoke up in seriousness. Once you looked up at him after staring at your cast, he continued, “I have no idea how else I’m going to begin talking about this. But do you realize how happy I-- no, we are that you’re alive?”

Huh?

Okay, that took me off guard.

You had to admit you were puzzled. How were you supposed to answer that? It was not as if you could put yourself in the shoes of one of your friends. You did not even know what it was like to wait for someone to come out of their coma. So really, you could only shrug at his question.

“I remembered when the nurses told us you slipped into a coma and you would need surgery," Yu continued, "God, we were just in shock. No one said anything; you could hear a pin drop in the waiting room. But as soon as they left us alone, we just started crying, you know. Silently, though. But Teddie was the only one wailing.

“And Nanako?” Yu paused a bit before picking back up, “Well, at first, she looked like she was trying to hold back her tears. That is until we went back to my house. She just started sobbing, saying how it was her fault that you were hurt. She blamed herself for being on the road since she knew it was dangerous. Of course, we kept telling her that it wasn’t her fault, but it was no help. Not even Uncle was able to calm Nanako down, and so she just cried until she fell asleep.”

If your heart could physically break, it might as well be in a million pieces by now. Your injuries were suddenly hurting way less than seeing Nanako sobbing.

Meanwhile, Yu looked down at his lap as he felt himself about to shake. “It hurts so much just seeing her upset. And Nanako still blames herself to this day. By that point, it felt like there was not anything else the rest of us could do other than to dwell in sadness. We even had to wait to visit you at the time since the nurses wouldn’t allow any visitors. I just hated not knowing if you were going to live. I hated thinking that there was a chance you would die.”

Something caught your eyes.

Teardrops.

They were coming out of his eyes and falling onto his lap.

You could even hear small cries coming from him.

Oh God, no.

Why did this hurt a lot?

“DAMN IT!”

You felt yourself jump hearing Yu yell out like that. But what startled you most (it made a squeal come out of you) was when the gray-haired male suddenly engulfed you into a warm hug. The grip was not tight enough to where you could not breathe, but you could tell he was holding onto you as if you were going to slip out of his reach. Yu rested his head against your shoulder, and you were beginning to feel tears staining your hospital gown. It did not even matter that there were butterflies in your stomach.

“D-Damn it, (Y/N),” you heard his voice almost cracking, “You gave us a scare there! I know it would be rude to blame you for getting into that accident since you weren’t asking to get hit by a car. And, of course, I am incredibly thankful that you saved Nanako from getting hurt. But still! I could go over and over again about how relieved we were when we heard you had woken up. We thought it would never happen and that you would never make it.”

“Yu...”

You felt tears in the corners of your eyes. Damn, you were getting emotional. If there was one thing you hated, it was seeing someone close to you (especially if it was someone you loved) so upset that they cried. And that was what Yu was doing. So you wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back. His grip on you tightened, but you did not care. All you wanted was for him to let out his tears.

Once his cries had turned into sniffles, he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. You could feel your tears pouring out just seeing his tears. You cupped his cheeks with your hands.

“I’m sorry about that, (Y/N),” Yu mumbled.

“No need for an apology,” you assured him. “I know how you-- no, I know I’ll never fully understand what it was like for you guys after the car accident. I mean, how could I? But still, I had no intention of scaring you guys.”

More silence passed. God, you had no idea what to say at that point. You had no idea how your other friends had been coping through this time, but it was evident there were tears shed. Besides Nanako, you did not even want to imagine their disheartened faces. You knew that you had to comfort Yu in some way. But how?

You sighed.

Saying this might as well work.

“Look...Yu, listen to me,” you found your voice as you looked into his eyes. “I know you and the others are still upset. I get it. But please don’t go dwelling on the past anymore, okay? Yes, it was a scary situation that should NOT have happened-- it sucked that it even occurred right when you were visiting us --but in the end, I’m alright. Of course, it will take a while for me to recover, but I will do my best to get through this as quickly as possible for you and everyone else.

“So please,” your thumbs began to gently wipe at Yu’s on pouring tears, “don’t cry anymore. I promise you I’ll be alright.”

That was when a sudden bolt of bravery came from inside you. So you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

You spoke every word as if you meant it (because you did!). You no longer wanted to be a burden to everyone around you. You worried your family and friends enough in the hospital, so the least you could do was make it through your recovery. All you could hope was for Yu to be reassured by everything you said.

And thankfully, it worked as he gave you a nod and a tearful smile (you could almost see a light blush covering his cheeks from the kiss). Yu hugged you again, placing his forehead against your shoulder. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he mumbled, “Thank you so much,”

“You’re welcome,” you whispered.

#persona 4 #persona #persona 4 x reader #persona 4 imagines #persona imagines #yu narukami #fanfiction #persona 4 golden #p4g #yu narukami x reader #oneshot #gn reader #x reader #kristin's writings

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amphxtrite · 3 years

Text

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), swearing, spelling/grammar mistakes.

do not read if you are not comfortable.

summary: When the twins and the reader move into their new apartment in Diagon Alley, you finally confess to George about the feelings you’ve accumulated through the years, which eventually leads to more.

a/n: This was request from anonymous for a george weasley x reader, first time smut, thank you for requesting, I had a lot of fun writing this!

word count: 4k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“Give her hell from us Peeves!” Three voices cry before soaring away into the clear blue sky.

Everyone knows of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The students who disobeyed every rule, every year to save the wizarding world.

In the Hogwarts walls there was another group of students, while not as heroic, were just as well known. George Weasley, Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n were the notorious pranksters of the school. You couldn’t walk ten feet without someone being a victim of their work. For years, the school was their playground, pranks ranging from covering students in feathers, slipping belch-powder in professors’ tea and making products of their own that would take the world by storm in the years to come.

Every student at Hogwarts knew their group by name, swiveling heads in alertness when one of your voices was about, or running the opposite way when a familiar laugh rang out. There was never one without the others, so when your grand scheme of fireworks and sparks flew through the air, no one was surprised to see three brooms zipping about, accompanied by laughter and the screams of the pink toad who had terrorized the school of magic. Your names would go down in history among the students and as you zipped away through the clouds, a giant ‘W’ in your wake. The joyous feeling of freedom breaks free and you join the twins in the life you’d been dreaming about since you met the two in your first year, and away from the hell you’d endured.

With the help of Harry’s generous donation, the three of you set up shop in Diagon Alley, making the most bizarre and far-out designs the three of you could think of. Working long and hard to perfect each and every one of your products for your grand opening in a couple months.

The three of you spent most of your time in the apartment above the shop, concocting your brews and relishing in the new-found freedom you had taken for yourselves. The three of you worked, laughed, high-fived and dusted each other off after bad days, you grew even closer to the twins and with the new atmosphere and life, and feelings you’d accumulated through the years came about that had your stomach erupt in butterflies around your best friend.

If you were to ask anyone in Hogwarts about the mischief trio, first you’d see their head swivel and panic cross their eyes, next they’d tell you. While you were all close and the twins were practically connected at the hip, George Weasley and Y/n L/n had an unspoken ‘thing’ between them, and it was quite obvious to everyone, but them, and although cliché it was one of the castle’s favourite subjects for drama.

While oblivious to the gossip, George had fancied you since the moment he met you in first year. Watching your eyes light up at him and his twins’ antics and then showing them some tricks of your own. He must’ve been blushing beet-red because at that moment he fell. He fell for your sarcastic remarks, your love for books and muggle movies, he fell for the way your nose scrunched when you were concentrating and the way your eyes lit up whenever it snowed. George could go on for hours about all the things he loved about you, but actually telling you was a whole other story. You were such a positive, bubbly person, he could hardly tell the difference between a romantic or platonic action. Did you mean to brush his hand like that? Was that little smirk for a reason? Did you know what you did to him when you bit your lip like that? Or when you walked with a little more swing in your hips.

George wanted nothing more than to wrap you into his arms and hold you close against him, murmuring every moment he fell in love with you into your ear, listening to your heartbeat and pressing kisses across your temple, but at the same time he wanted to make you squirm beneath him, make you scream his name and take away your ability to walk, leave his mark across your skin and taste you. He just wished he had a hint to how you really felt about him.

“Oi, George! Get down here, we need some help with this stand!” Fred’s familiar shout shakes the daydreaming red-head out of his daze, cutting his thought of you short.

“Alright ya twat, no need to yell!” George huffs, speeding down the stairs to the shop area and walking towards you and Fred.

“How can I be of assistance, my dear brother.” George smirks as he approaches. “Well this stand won’t fit in between the other displays, we just need help pushing it in.” You shrug, jabbing your thumb towards the empty display stand.

George claps his hands together and the three of you get to work. You did your best to pry one of the displays to the side while the twins push the stand into place. Everything was going well, you made great progress and the display case was starting to slide in. It wasn’t until the twins gave a final heave, that you lost focus, your eyes dropping to a certain twin’s toned bicep, peeking out from his skin tight shirt, and you failed to remove your finger from the crevice.

“Bloody Hell!” You cry as your fingers are crushed in the closed space. Quickly yanking your digits out of the gap, you hold them close to your chest, you double over in pain. “Fuck, that hurt.” You groan, examining your fingers to be lightly scratched and bruised.

George can only just register your pained yelp before he’s fussing all over you just like his mother would. “Oh my goodness, are you alright love? I left my wand in my room, come on, I’ll fix you right up.” George gently takes your arm and hurries up the stairs leaving a confused Fred behind.

“Hey it’s alright Georgie, it’s just a small cut!” You try to reason with the persistent ginger, but George doesn’t let go. “Nonsense darling, your finger is bleeding, I’ll heal it in no time.” He continues, sitting you on his bed as he picks up with wand from his bedside drawer and takes a seat next to you.

You extend your hands to George and without a beat he murmurs the healing spell. “Episkey.”

Your cuts begin to close and the bruises fade away, leaving no pain and no sign of injury. “Thanks George, you’re the best!” You giggle wrapping your arms around the tall Weasley and inching closer to him.

It had become something of a tradition for the two of you to heal each other if one of you were to get hurt back in school. Whether you’d scraped a knee or had come to the other bearing Umbridge’s scar, you’d done your best to help one another, learning new healing spells for this specific reason.

A smile spreads across your cheek as you think back to the days you’d run to George with a burn or a cut, only coming to peace once he’d had a go at it, or at least wrapped it in a bandage.

“Do yo remember, back in Hogwarts, when we’d come to each other just to heal our little wounds.” You pull back from the hug and take George’s hand in yours.

“Of course darling, how could I forget.” George grins, reminiscing of the days not so long ago.

Back in your days with the pink toad, George would be the first person you’d run to after detention, small sobs racking through you as you showed George the first of many scratches in the back of your hand.

‘I must not laugh in class’

George had helped you reduce it to a pink scar, but the pain remained with you for long after as the memories of that horrid quill raked your brain.

George was always your comfort, he’d stuck by your side and was there for you when you needed it the most. Long nights of star-gazing, studying, planning and laughing had also helped you come to terms with the love bubbling inside you for George Weasley.

“Thank you for everything, back in school I mean.” You sigh, leaning onto George’s broad shoulder, a light smile gracing your face.

“There’s no need to thank me love, if anything I should be thanking you for saving me from detentions.” George smirks, wrapping an arm around you. You begin to laugh a bit as you think back to when you’d trick filch into leaving his post before pulling the red-head through the long halls.

“Feels like so long ago.” You murmur and look up towards George, finding him already gazing back at you. “Last time you did it was only a year ago love.” The younger twin smiles, leaning closer.

Your eyebrows knit together and your face heats up at the sudden closeness and a question that has plagued your mind for years spills from your lips.

“Not to be nosy, but why do you always call me darling or love, Georgie?”

This was it, George’s thoughts began to race. This was the moment he could finally confess to you, finally know how you felt about him.

His lips turn up into a huge smile, as he pulls you closer to him and looks down for a moment, gathering courage.

“Y/n, I’ve fancied you since the moment I saw you on the train. You immediately caught my attention, but once I really got to know you, I knew that I was done for. You’re so funny, beautiful and absolutely perfect, but you’ve never really showed me you fancied me and-” George pauses for a moment, trying to pick his words right. “Well, I just want to know how you feel.” He simply states, looking deep into your mesmerizing e/c eyes.

Your smile widens as George finishes his confession, and tackling the red-head onto the bed you hug him tight against you.

“I fancy you too idiot! Why else do you think I’d only go to you for my scars and bruises, why I’d save you from detention all those times, I’ve fallen in love with you!” A melodic laugh rings from your lips as George wraps his arms around you with a hearty chuckle, pressing kissing on your head just like he’d dreamed of doing.

Rolling the two of you over, George now on top, the blushing ginger admires your laughing form beneath him. You were positively angelic and he couldn’t help himself from what came next.

George leans down and captures your lips in his, snaking his arm up to hold your hand against the mattress while the other cups your face. The kiss is chaste at first as George familiarizes himself with your lips, truth be told he hadn’t had his first kiss yet, only daydreamed of doing it with you. Now, with your lips finally against his, he wanted it to be perfect.

Running his tongue against your bottom lip, George wordlessly asks for permission to deepen the kiss, nipping lightly on your soft pink lips. Parting your lips you allow George to run his tongue around your mouth, as your teeth clash and your tongues swirl around each other.

George eventually pulls away to catch his breath, never letting go of your hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that love.” the prankster smiles, pressing a small kiss to your nose.

“Oh I can imagine, especially with that pressure on my thigh.” Your eyebrow raises in a teasing tone as George goes a brilliant shade of scarlet, his freckles seemingly disappearing under the dark hue.

“I- uh, I’m sorry. It’s just-” George begins to ramble, trying his best to explain himself to no avail.

A small smirk plays on your lips as you capture George’s lips into a loving kiss again.

“It’s alright Georgie, I want this too.” You sigh onto the gryffindor’s lips, circling your hips around underneath him.

George lets out a low moan at your action, squeezing your hand and looking back into your eyes, pupils dilated and dark with lust. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit, running a finger up and down George’s side, glancing down at his lip caught in between his teeth.

“I haven’t either, but I’ve imagined doing this with you before.” George shrugs, removing his hand from your cheek and placing it on the waistband of your shorts. “That makes two of us.” You tease, running your free hand up the beater’s toned chest.

George doesn’t hesitate to crash his lips onto yours again, rolling his hips against you. Your mouth parts enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips again and explore every inch of your opening as his hand pulls the waistband of your shorts down your thighs before promptly flicking them to the floor. George uses his long digits to tease your clit through your panties as he kisses down your jaw and collarbone nipping and sucking, leaving a path of pink marks down your upper chest. “So wet for me already love?” He smirks as his fingers find the soaked patch on your heat, eyes darkening as he pushes harder against your clit.

“Yes George, f-fuck, right there.” You plead softly as George continues to ravage your clit, hitting the sensitive bud perfectly and sending waves of pleasure through your being. The gryffindor obliges, rubbing your heat faster and harder as your eyes shut and your head falls back against the soft pillows, allowing George access to your neck, sucking dark hickeys onto your skin as you writhe beneath him from the stimulation from his fingers and lips were granting.

Slowly inching your fingers up, you pull the beater’s shirt up to his chest, motioning him to take it off as your fingers move lower to the waistband of his trousers. George removes his fingers from your panties to teasingly pull off his shirt, sitting up a bit to show off his toned abdomen, taking his sweet time to throw the shirt aside and fix up his short hair, sending a wink down at you.

Your hands seem to gain a consciousness of their own, slowly tracing down each muscle, drawing dangerously low before George leans down to push your shirt up your chest. Raising your arms, your shirt joins George’s on the floor. “You’re absolutely stunning love.” George praises as he reaches behind your body to unclasp your black bra, quickly throwing it away and pressing kisses across your breasts.

You begin to run your hands up the toned red-heads chest when he takes hold of your hands and pins them above your head against the soft cushion, his grip soft, but firm, unabling you to move despite how hard you squirmed.

“Don’t bother darling, now stay still like a good girl.” George smirks, lust evident in his low rasp as he kisses down your naked chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples and massaging them with his calloused hand. Your attempts to escape George’s grasp are forgotten as his teeth begin to nibble on your sensitive buds. Head falling back between your arms, you arch your back against George, silently begging for more. George grins into your skins and pulls back to admire your pleading form, reaching down to undo his belt with a small fumble, eventually pulling his trousers and briefs down completely. Your eyes fly open at the feeling of George’s hard cock brushing up against your inner thigh as George’s dark, brown eyes display a playfulness as he teases his tip against your clothed core.

You begin to struggle against George’s grip again, wanting to take his throbbing length into your mouth and make him beg beneath you. Unfortunately, George has different plans and his clutch stays firm.

“Ah ah ah, just let me make you feel good y/n, save that for another time.” George purrs, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs. Your arms grow limp as George uses his hand to spread your thighs apart and place himself between your thighs. Right in front of where you needed him most. “Please don’t tease me anymore George, I-I need you.” You beg shakily, desperately rolling your hips to gain any friction, your timid demeanor being overthrown by overstimulation and need.

“Patience darling, you’ll get me I promise.” George smirks, closing the space between you to press another heated kiss to your lips and continuing to coat himself in your slick, sliding himself up and down. Bringing his free hand to your clit again, George pushes his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling it around with a light pressure, swallowing your loud moans into the kiss. Once you were squirming beneath him again, back arched and hips thrusting up for more, he finally begins to push himself into your soaked core.

A feeling of ecstasy and satisfaction runs through your veins, bringing a whole new feeling of pleasure and clouding all your senses as George pushes deeper into you, awakening an intoxicating new feeling you could get addicted too.

George pauses for a moment, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to check in on how you were. Your eyes are shut, your mouth agape in a small ‘o’ and with the loss of his lips, desperate moans spill past your lips, mixing beautifully with George’s name.

The toned red-head begins to thrust in and out, incoherent groans falling from his lips as your core clenches around him and your hips buck up to greet him. Picking up the pace. You cry out George’s name over and over again as he continues to snap his hips in and out of you, your body growing limp and your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust. George continues to pound deep into you using all his strength to go deeper and harder, reintroducing his fingers to stroke your clit as he desperately swirls and thrusts his hips.

“Fuck, you make me feel so good darling.” George growls against your ear, peppering kisses to your jaw and burying his face into your neck to try and stifle his loud moans.

With George whispering sinful praises into your ear you can feel a knot tighten in your lower stomach, and your hips begin to buck again and again, begging for release. “Oh fuck George, d-don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” You mewl breathily.

George, fueled by your moans pushes himself even more, thrusting and swirling his hips until he feels your core clench deliciously against him and your shaky moan cry out.

As your coil snaps, spots flood your vision and your body tenses as shockwaves of euphoria shake your body and your hands beg to grip onto something, cries of pleasure mix with the sound of George’s skin hitting yours as the beater continues to snap his hips into your throbbing core, his cock twitching and pulsing deep inside you as you ride out your orgasm and his release builds up.

George throws your leg over his shoulder in a desperate action for release, using the new angle to push deeper into you and feeling your core contracts to grip his cock, driving him absolutely insane.

“Oh my Godric, George you make me feel so fucking good, please let me help you.” You look up to your constricted hands and back into George’s dark orbs, pleading with him to release you.

George gives a couple more lazy thrusts before he releases your hands and pulls himself out of you. Despite your legs being unsteady, you lay George’s head down on the other end of the bed and begin to kiss down his sweat stained body, slowly making your way down his long body.

Licking a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock, you slowly take George’s length into your mouth, swirling the pulsing tip around your tongue and hollowing your cheeks before going deeper. George’s eyes shut once again as you take him, burying his fingers into your hair and helping you to guide your lips down. Taking what you can’t fit into your hands you start to bob your head up and down, using your lips and hands together as you lick and suck at the sensitive skin. George begins to spew profanities and buck his hips into your mouth, pulling your hair up and down a little more forcefully as you begin to gag lightly. George continues to buck and moan, your name being sobbed from George’s lips as he feels his orgasm taking over him and hot cum floods your mouth. You try your best to swallow every drop, only a couple beads sliding down your chin as you lift your head from George’s length.

“God you look so gorgeous with my cum dripping down your face.” George smirks pulling you onto his bare chest and kissing down your cheek. Your only response is a blush as George continues to stare down at you as if you were his last meal, drinking in all of your post-sex features. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and swollen lips. Sighing, he pushes those thoughts away as he pulls you up to see him face to face.

“That was amazing love, thank you.” George grins, pulling you against his chest and playing with your soft hair.

“Of course Georgie, but Merlin my legs are sore.” You groan into George’s chest as his chest vibrates with a chuckle.

“I’m afraid Episkey won’t cut it for that darling.” The red-head prankster teases, reaching down to caress your legs lightly. “That’s too bad, have you got any other remedies?” You joke, wrapping your arms around George’s torso, a smile growing on your lips.

“Just lay here with me darling, Relax.” George sighs, pulling back to gaze into your eyes again with a growing smile. “Sounds good.” You respond, a small yawn falling from your lips.

“I-I love you y/n, I’ve fallen in love with you so many times over the years and the fact I still haven’t asked you this question yet is killing me, would you be my girl? Please?” George pouts, giving you his best puppy eyes as you giggle and cuddle closer to his chest.

“I’d love nothing more, my love.” You sigh happily as George’s eyes light up and he peppers your face with butterfly kisses.

“Next time the two of you shag, at least put a silencing charm over the room!” A disgusted shout, causes the two of your to flinch. “Sorry, Fred!” You laugh at the older twin’s plea and turn back to your love. “Guess we were a bit loud, weren’t we?” You tease.

“Me? Oh no darling, that was all you.” George smirks. “And who’s fault was that?” You reason, pressing a gentle kiss to George’s lips once again.

“All mine, I can say that with honor.” The red-head smiles victoriously and pulls you against him again with a chuckle.

“Godric, I can still hear you!” Fred’s annoyed scream rings through the room again.

The two of you only laugh at Fred’s interjection, too busy staring into each other’s eyes to care. The two of you had come so far, from pulling pranks in the Hogwarts halls, running to each other for a spell you could easily perform when you were hurt, to moving into the same apartment to follow your dreams and making love to each other after your confessions of love. You’d only dreamed of being able to hold the boy who’d stolen your heart with each Episkey and prank, and here you are lying in his arms with love bites scattered across your chest and legs too tired to move, slowly drifting to sleep as all your dreams came true.

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