#3 am gn

[cerastes]

I’m thinking of how, in OpRec 2, Laurentina knows she has very limited time as herself before her brain deteriorates and she loses her reason again and becomes the “Specter” again. She has few precious hours as herself after years of being trapped in her own mind due to the experiments and the insane amount of pure liquid Originium Amaia and Quintus injected directly into her spinal cord.

She uses a bit of this time to spend it fighting a battle alongside Misery (who insisted she doesn’t need to help him but definitely welcomed the aid since apparently the situation was pretty bad), because in fighting, she can remain useful, in her own words. Skadi insists she hurry back to Rhodes Island, to which Specter says it’s pointless, because equipment on the surface simply cannot help her, only keep her alive, so she takes her sweet time fighting alongside Misery, and Skadi and Gladiia (the latter reluctantly) join.

She allots some more of her time to having a proper talk with Closure, answering as many questions as she can, both about herself and about Closure, but mainly, what she wanted to say was “do not change the way I’m treated. You know me as Specter, you have protocols around the Operator Specter. Retain them. I have to go.”

She talks with a very concerned Skadi and an unflinching but still upset Gladiia, but she already had time with them on the way back. The final person she wanted to talk to before her brain gave out again? Doctor. Explicitly because she predicted Closure and Doctor may take more care on her handling, maybe remove her from combat operations in order to more closely monitor her condition. This is exactly what she didn’t want.

Because end of the day, Laurentina is a Hunter. She finds it difficult to speak as surface dwellers do, she finds it almost nonsensical, and so, she demands, “Keep me in the fight, Doctor. We do not need words, we need only you having a clear objective and me, my orders. If you put me in a bed and out of the battlefield, you are denying me the last shred of identity I can cling on”.

Because she couldn’t sculpt, she couldn’t sing, she couldn’t even control her own body, if she was even conscious. The only thing that she could do to cling to being who she was...

...Is to at the very least be pointed towards an enemy to fight them, and pointed towards an ally to protect them.

Skadi believed Laurentina had died prior to the events of the game because this isn’t the first time she had done this: In order for the 3rd Squadron to advance towards Ishar’mla, the 2nd Squadron, Gladiia and Laurentina’s, practically sacrificed themselves covering for the 3rd. 

She never blamed Skadi, and makes sure she knows it. She didn’t mind doing it again now, either. “Point me at the one I have to cut, put the ones I need to keep safe behind me, and give the order. Even if am completely lost in the darkness of my mind and madness of my heart, that, that will never leave me. That’s proof that I am Specter, that I am Shark, and that I am Laurentina. I, namely, I.”

As far as she knew, these were the last words she’d ever get out as herself. She used to make it very clear: “Do not deny me the only bit of purpose and identity I have left, because even if I am but a shell of myself, I’m still me.”

Of course, we now know that this was not to be her final fate, and she did manage to regain control, decisively, eventually, but... As far as she and Skadi and Doctor knew, at this point, this was really, really it. The briefest of encounters with the real Specter, on borrowed time. And her intent? To make sure she’s not left to rot in a medical room where she’s useless, gathering dust: “Put even more danger upon my share”. You know you are dealing with a seriously terrifying and strong person when they can confidently tell you (and have verifiably, so far, done as much) that even if it’s just a shell of her former self out there, she can and will never stop doing exactly what she’s good at, because otherwise, at that point, she truly has left the world.

[l3viat8an]

Asmo walking in on MC masturbating whatever will he do 🥴 -💖 

Nsfw!

Imo- Asmo’s going to have some fun ‘n play with you for as long as he can~

Asmo already knows exactly what you’re doing when he walked in. The lust rolling off you in waves feels sooo good already. His eyes slowly taking in your body, stopping between your legs and watching the way you quickly try to cover yourself and giggling, “Don’t stop now, sweetie~” I mean- he’s here to join you ofc!!- But first he wants to watch you cum on your own fingers. So just relax and go back to what you were doing.

It won’t matter what you do. No matter how much you whine ‘n beg for him to just fuck you because this is embarrassing, not even the adorable pout on your face can convince him. Asmo’s self control is honestly so impressive when he’s playing with you~

He grabs the chair from by your desk and puts it by the foot-end of your bed, making sure you can see him and he can see all of you~

Slipping his pants down just enough to pull his cock free, he sits there lazily pumping his hand up and down, rubbing his thumb over the tip and smearing his pre-cum, all slow teasing touches even on himself.

As your moans get louder Asmo smiles at you and says, “sweetheart~ I need to see you come first, before I can touch you. But I promise you, you’ll feel amazing~” the last word trails off in a soft moan as he watches your fingers work at your clit.

This is like a game for him, a simple one to see who can last longer and he knows it’ll be him. He knows you’re going to break down even more, turning into a whimpering mess. it’s obvious because you’re already making those adorable little noise for him. Soft gasps of his name, begging for him, for whatever he’ll give you and he hasn’t even touched you yet-

It’s all going straight to his cock, and yet he’s still confident he’s going to outlast you. After all it always feels even better when he gets to fuck you after a couple of orgasms, although, usually he would have helped you with those-

He thinks he’ll go slow this time, he wants to have you rutting against him with the same desperation you’re grinding against your own hand with….you just have to make yourself cum. Simple <3

[coatl-cuddles]

" WIP DELETE LATER 🤪🤪🤪" ok who gaf?

[mclarenviolet]

Cherry Wine

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff

WC: 500+

A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!

You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.

"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."

You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."

He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."

You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"

Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."

You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."

You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"

Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."

As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.

"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."

Your heart skips a beat as his playful fa��ade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.

He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"

Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.

Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.

You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."

He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."

A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[mortalfortaxpurposes]

pete's setlist "out of the way of sheep" 😭

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ PETNAMES JING YUAN USES FOR YOU.

fandom. honkai star rail

pairing. jing yuan x gn!reader

content warnings. fluff & nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, soft dom!jing yuan, first part is heavy fluff, second part is flithy, reader has a praise kink, jing yuan loves to spoil you (he's totally whipped), written in lowercase, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.5k

notes. there is just something about fictional characters using petnames,,,

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ beloved mine. 

jing yuan always calls you beloved mine when he wants to show you off and let everyone know you belong to him. you’re his beloved, the only one he treasures so much, the only one he loves like this and you’re his. he will utter those words without any shame, a small smirk on his lips while you flush at the attention you receive. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ my love. 

calling you his love is often when you’re in a more intimate situation. maybe on a date, maybe in the presence of close friends— jing yuan calls you his love because he wants you to know how much he loves you. he will whisper it close to your ear, pressing a fleeting kiss on your cheek, while you try to tell him to keep it down. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ dear.

only at a later point in your relationship with jing yuan, he started to call you dear. it rolls off his tongue and makes you shudder— just something about this particular petname catches your attention. of course he notices it, and so he starts to use it more and more, always when you’re alone, so he can admire your reaction to it without anyone interrupting. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ darling. 

jing yuan calls you darling when you’re flush against him, skin feverish and panting against his mouth. he calls you darling when he praises you, for taking him so well, for being so good for him, for screaming his name. 

he will call you darling the moment you tumble in bed with him, lips against your neck, his breath making you shudder in his arms. darling he calls you, for clinging onto him, tears running down your cheeks while he pounds into you, hips in a steady rhythm. 

“there you are, darling mine,” he mutters, watching with hooded eyes how your thighs quake around his waist, how your hole tightens around his cock. you moan, breathlessly, and try to blink the sudden tears away. he always makes you cry, with how good he makes you feel, cry and moan when he whispers the sweetest praise in your ears. 

“darling,” he whispers, when your eyes flutter close and your head thrown back. “look at me,” he tells you, gently cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away. you slowly open your eyes, mind still blown by the orgasm he just gave you and with bleary eyes, you look up to him. his long gray hair is a mess thanks to your gripping hands and there is a faint blush on his face, his own breathing coming out in pants. 

“you’re so good for me,” he murmurs, caging you with his board body, lips so close to yours. you whine at his praise, shudder when his hands teasingly wander over your flushing skin and circle your arms around his neck. 

“darling mine,” he calls you, when you’re so needy for him, legs spread and mind heavy with pleasure he oh so readily gives. he calls you his darling, because you’re truly his, in mind, body and heart, love him with everything you can. and he will do everything to return this love, because you are his darling after all. 

taglist. @themercyverse , @stellumi

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[luminique]

i can see lighter playing the guitar. he’s not a pro at it, but he can play a few chords and strum a little tune. now what if, he plays for his s/o? serenading them a bit, messing up and picking the wrong strings but he’s determined to woo his s/o even if his face is turning red with embarrassment. of course he’ll only play for them somewhere private, can’t have the girls intruding or teasing him now can we?

with his position in the sons of calydon, he seems to have a lot of free time in his hands. of course, he prioritizes whatever job the girls give him, but when they’re all busy with their own things, he’d find some time to try playing the guitar.

after learning just a few chords to be able to play a couple of songs, he’d try to find a secluded and far away enough area from all of the girls. he had always been playing to just himself so when its suddenly just the both of you, him holding his guitar, he’s beginning to feel his hands shake.

you’ve heard him practice on occasion in passing. the only way you knew was because his voice was recognizable, even if it was just the chorus of a song. but here he was, struggling to even get through the first verse. it’s awkward, its embarrassing, he’s still wearing his shades but you can see how red he is behind them.

slowly, he’s getting used to it. he’s not good but he isn’t bad either. he’s definitely messing up and is aware of it but there’s something about being with you where he could afford to show his mistakes. he wanted to seem cool and mysterious but his feelings for you couldn’t let him. if he can’t confess to you normally, hopefully the lyrics and emotions from the songs he sing could.

[baeshijima]

its nearly 3 am and i should sleep but vampire neuvillette…. ourgh…….

vampire neuvillette who is not affected by the sunlight, yet still chooses to avoid contact with it, instead gazing at the light with a faraway look from his office window.

vampire neuvillette who basks in the moonlight when in his lonesome, a sombre yet hauntingly beautiful image painted for no one to bear witness to.

vampire neuvillette who is surrounded by many, humans and melusines and other beings alike, yet appears the loneliest in spite of that, his figure stark against the bustling crowds and empty rooms.

vampire neuvillette who somehow finds himself identifying you immediately when within the same vicinity, having blocked out every face, every disturbing scent which invaded his senses, just to see you and quietly watch from afar. (because that is what he does best. he maintains his distance and keeps to himself, avoiding any further implication than what is necessary.)

vampire neuvillette who, in spite of his long-held values, finds himself drifting towards you like a moth would to a flame. it’s inexplicable how drawn he is to you — how magnetising your mere presence is to him — and yet he cannot find it within himself to hate this feeling. rather, he finds himself chasing after it, hands grasping at what little you seem to give in a desperate attempt to close the gap he worked hard to create.

vampire neuvillette who finds he doesn’t need to bask in the overbearing sun, for your smile and eyes which glimmer like starlight are all he needs in this gloomy world he’s supposed to reside in. you are kind, a feat he sees in the way you treat the melusines, how you talk with the locals and can deal with their… less than favourable actions at times, in the way you help tourists in a patient manner, and by the way you laugh in a way which implies you enjoy his presence. (the notion has him more giddy than he would like to admit.)

vampire neuvillette who jolts the first time your skins touch, hands brushing as you hand him a pile of finished paperwork, as he stares at you aghast while cradling his burning hand close to his chest. it was an odd phenomena, one he had never experienced before (he seemed to be having a lot of those in recent times), yet the vivid tingles are etched into his skin and seep into his veins in a way that has him wanting to reach out and experience such sensations with you once more.

vampire neuvillette who discovers what it means to lose control for the first time in his extensive life when you’re suddenly beneath him, neck bare amidst a messily open collared shirt and a tantalising scent permeating from your skin. it wasn’t supposed to go like this, he thinks to himself through bleary eyes and a hazy mind. had he known his stock had run out, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer for dinner, battling through his long-forgotten starvation until you found him in such an embarrassing predicament. but your words of consent repeat in his conscience like a broken record, your voice clear against his jumbled thoughts as he zeroes in on your blood. it is a scent he has grown indifferent to over the years; well, until you stumbled into his life with a warm demeanor and sweet smile, effectively thawing his once frozen heart, that is.

[transglennder]

My anemic ass is NOT surviving Baldurs Gaye 3 😭🤣🤣🤣🩸🩸🩸🩸🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

[mblue-art]

drew @owl-bones's lv20 dust!cross boy, strike 💗 (pre-redesign) (new design here!)

silly xtras + simp thoughts under the cut

a shitpost ... ft silly au bc i got attached to how blorbo i made my sona in it...

im just a lil guye... against big scary tall skeleman constantly burning lots of magic... who easily crumbles to even the smallest bit of affection... he'll be dead on the fukcign gorund when im done w him /j/j/j/j/lh/aff <333

self-indulgent scenario/au surrounding my simping (just like all my other AUs in my head lololol) is called icecube (for now,, 👉👈),, yearned hard during an especially chilly rainy day, and felt so cold i joked that i was turning into ice-- then i got attacked with simp thoughts about how he'd be sooo warm and toasty (,,perfect for the weather,,,/)/////(\;;) and the silly thought of being the ice to his warmth-- his little icecube-- is very /////wwww

i love,, the visual of getting cold chilly hands and just reaching up to cup his cheeks and feel his ambient(?) magic warming my hands up and the whole gesture simultaneously making him melt,,

an icecube can only cool off a magic-burning body so much,, but i hope he enjoys the feeling lots everytime he holds cold lil me to his chest uwu 🧊💙❤️‍🔥

[edges-of-night]

･ﾟ♡ Being Lady Galadriel's servant would include...

✧ you giving in to your desire for longing glances, only for her to (of course) instantly notice and smile at you like you did not just commit a most indecent faux pas

✧ a warmth in your chest fuelled by her eternal light and grace

✧ her playfully asking you about your opinion: on which jewellery would look best in her golden hair, which dessert she should have tonight, which of tonight's songs you liked best…

✧ exchanging knowing looks over a banquet

✧ you making sure you know everything about her routine and preferences, only to change it up once in a while to make her laugh at the surprise

✧ her letting you know at any given opportunity that she values your loyalty and respect

✧ receiving gifts so precious and expensive you wonder if they were really meant for you – until a lovely handwritten note in Sindarin gives you confirmation that they are in fact from Galadriel for you

✧ her asking you to sing for her out of the blue and listening to your music with great joy

✧ her modestly helping you pick up the tablet you carried when you fell (it is hard to walk Lórien's stairs when you are blinded by beauty)

✧ you fumbling and blushing – which only delights her more, of course

✧ her letting you in on ancient Elven secrets because of how much she trusts you

✧ you defending her passionately even when she is not around

✧ the other servants snickering and chuckling at how smitten you are with your Lady!

.

Book Bonus:

✧ bonding with Gimli over how beautiful you both find your Lady (and picking fights with Éomer who thinks otherwise)

[pinknblueforever]

bittersuite

by: mygirlcrush

rated: explicit

word count: 2,150

louis needs to calm down after the euro 2024 final..........

[chrisbangs]

231111

[victoria-grimesss]

Astarion Headcanons

masterlist :)

-> Pairing: Astarion Acunin x GN!Reader/Tav

-> A/N: Just some cute things I thought of (Spoilers for Act 3)

He is touch-starved, although he has many past lovers he was not present for any of them, hiding within himself to complete the act, but when you two become closer he’s able to become more confident in himself and learn to enjoy a loving touch. And when he does become accustomed to it he can’t get enough. He would seek out your hands when traversing back to camp, he would hold you close and inhale the sweet smell of your hair after a close call in battle, he would hold you flush against him as he drank from you, all the emotions he wasn’t able to feel for over 200 years would be overwhelming but your touch would assure him all is well.

Depending on the length of your hair he would style it before bed each night, after living such a chaotic life of unease, he found the routine calming and it helps him end the day on a good note while getting to be close to you.

He loved the way you cared for everyone in the camp, checking on everyone after a trip and finally settling on him last to end the night by his side. He would admire you and your confidence and your words of encouragement to the group before bidding goodnight.

He loves the way you blush when he talks sweet to you. He knows he’s good looking and charming, obviously, but there’s something about walking to you, whispering a word or two in your ear and watching the blood spread from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. Especially if you’re speaking with others and end up sputtering on your words, he’s truly cocky after that. He could make a dictionary sound attractive.

He dotes on you frequently, especially once the two of you are settled in your own home:

Especially if you’re injured, although it happens frequently, at the beginning when you first recruited him, he didn’t care much. But as his feelings grew towards you he found himself offering help when you got hurt. Although he’s not much of a healer like Shadowheart and Halsin he still helps where he can. Although he will offer his unsolicited advice as he wraps the bandage around your arm saying how stupid it was to charge into that fight.... although you did look very attractive doing it. 

All of those years waiting, hoping for a hero to save him, and here you are. To conquer what lies ahead together, from as big as a cult to as small as a nightmare you pave the way together and he could not be happier.

He truly loves fighting by your side. The spattering of blood that dons your clothes and across your face does happen to get him excited now and again. A few times on the trip after a particularly bloody fight he’ll usher you into the forest away from prying eyes to steal away some company time. (The group knows, Lae’zel definitely mentions it.)

He finds himself thinking about what lies ahead for the two of you. He never thought he’d have the opportunity of a future let alone with someone he cares about. But after you helped him kill Cazador and free those under his control he was still plagued with the memories he thought would disappear once he was slain but within those nightmares a ray of hope was always present. A thought of the two of you settling down just outside the city walls, perhaps with a cat. And when he shared these ideas with you and you agreed it would be very nice that’s what helped him carry on. 

[m1d-45]

Can I offer you the thought of gifting Kazuha a music box to keep during his travels?

songbird

notes: yes. ignore that it took me [checks notes] like several months to get to this request. and that it was meant to come out on his birthday. shush.

word count : 3k

-> warnings : none ! minor spoilers for inazuma AQ but nothin serious

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist : @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

there was little you could give a wanderer. he only carried what he needed, and what was needed was already kept close and well-maintained. there was little room for extra trinkets or unnecessary weight, either sacrificed in a moment of exhaustion or left behind when fleeing from those who wished him ill.

your kazuha was no different. even after joining the cruz fleet, he travelled light, with barely the clothes on his back to keep him company. he kept his pen in one pocket and paper in another, rarely carrying so much as a coin purse. this was fine and good, except his birthday was coming up and you had not a single clue what to get him.

you couldn’t ask beidou or the crew, as he’d certainly be lingering by and his hearing was far sharper than his blade. you couldn’t ask him—you’d tried, actually, but he’d just smiled and promised that he didn’t have want or need for anything. he spoke of his birthday very casually, as if it was any other day and not the reason he was by your side at all.

but kazuha was nothing if not thoughtful. for your last birthday, he’d gotten you a book of pressed inazuman flora, each carefully labelled, and had spent the entire afternoon telling you exactly where he’d picked each and why he’d chosen it. a lavender melon flower for resilience, a sakura bloom for change, a maple leaf for love. it was a painfully sweet show of affection, especially considering that the sakoku decree was not yet lifted.

“kazuha- are you sure you want me to have this? it could be years before you could collect these again.”

“please, my muse, the decree will not last forever. i have faith. and even if it doesn’t…”

he slips his hand into yours, looking out across the harbor. he’d taken you to a ridge just outside the city, letting you appreciate the sights without being unable to focus on his book. he looks away for a while, out to the sea, out to what lies beyond, the world seeming to slow to a crawl around you. the very air held its breath, allowing a wayward samurai’s sigh to linger, his mind far, far away.

“…inazuma is my home, but it is not my only place of rest. even if i never again got to experience a wondrous autumn, i’d still have this book.” he dragged his eyes from far-off shores, the same color as the maples sewn into his clothes.

“i’d still have you, wouldn’t i?”

and oh, archons, just the memory of that was enough to make your cheeks warm from more than just the liyuen sun. it’s early morning and the crowds are just starting to pick up, the shops of the lower harbor slowly selling off their wares. you’ve been looking for the better part of an hour now, and nothing seems to quite stick.

he already has pens, and is rather fond of the kind he already has. while you have the name and seller of said pens—he’d lent you one a while ago and never took it back—he already kept several spares tucked into his pockets. no matter how often he writes, how many papers he folds and gives away, his pad never seems to thin. the thread he uses to repair his clothes never fades or grows sparse, and he’s never so much as lost the tie in his hair. the week is growing shorter, and you have nothing.

and sure, kazuha isn’t materialistic to begin with, but you can’t think of anything else. it’s not like he dislikes liyuen food, but you’ve caught him frying his own fish enough times to know that he far prefers simpler tastes. he’s the one more familiar with liyue’s plains and hills out of the two of you, and you’re not eager to hurt yourself looking for somewhere new only to find out he’s already been.

he never asks for anything, never shows a hint of wanting. if he likes something, he gets it, leaving little for you to grasp at. it’s hard not to feel helpless, when he knocks at your door with your favorite flower in hand and you can hardly think of a single thing to do for his birthday. you can’t very well buy the sight of gardens of maple, nor somehow import those odd jelly-fungi he’s mentioned eating while in inazuma. based on the way he describes them, you’re not even sure if they’re meant to be edible…

his sword is kept in pristine condition. his shoes don’t seem to wear. you’re not familiar enough with medicine to try at getting him something for his aches, but it doesn’t matter, because every dawn means a fresh set of bandages, the faint herbal scent of whatever medicine underneath staying strong. he doesn’t need anything, and what he does he already has, and what he wants is quickly paid for through months of saved wages. he catches his own food, embroiders his own clothes, and you’re certain he’d filter and drink seawater if beidou didn’t stop him.

what can you get someone so minimalistic?

you prepare to loop around a final time, pricking your ears for the slightest call of something interesting. an array of local fruits, the freshest on the market. silk textiles, horsetail baskets, handmade chopsticks. you push through the crowds, eyes flicking over each stall. food, clothes, more food, building supplies? the harbor is crowded, overlapping shouting and negotiating and the barest sound of music through it all, quickly becoming overbearing.

…music? you stop and turn and seek out the delicate sound, surprised enough that your purpose for browsing has been lost. it’s rare to see street performers this far from the city center, not to mention the sound is so thin… normally there’s at least a set of drums to cut through the chatter. you’ve looked over everything twice anyway, it wouldn’t really hurt to look.

you don’t find a performer. instead, the sound leads you a few stalls over, to one full of various odds and ends, each carved from a dark wood. a lone chair, a set of cups—one has a weird chip in the lip—on an uneven plate, a good dozen set of chopsticks, somewhat clumsily painted. it’s tended by a young man who’s very nervously watching the customer in front of him fiddle with a wooden box, turning it over and inspecting every angle. there’s a key sticking out the back, and when they open it again, a single thin note floats out, quickly dashed away by the crowds. it’s beautiful, clear and crisp, even with the noise around you.

“maybe another day,” the other customer shrugs, and though the vendor’s face falls, yours lights up.

it’s perfect. sure, yeah, as the would-be buyer steps away and you look closer, the lines of engraving are uneven and hesitant, but the music was what made it worth it. kazuha always talks of the song within whispering wind, and you’ve seen how his pace slows when passing an opera, lingering just so. you never bought tickets because you didn’t know which he’d seen before, but this… this would do just fine.

“sorry about the wait,” the vendor apologizes, a slight sigh to his voice. “feel free to take a look around, just please be careful when handling the pieces. i don’t need another scolding from master lu…”

you pick up the box before he’s even done speaking, flipping open the lid. inside is some sort of flower on a plain pedestal, the same color as the rest of the box and largely unremarkable. you turn it, twisting the key in the back a few times, letting the song play again. it’s a slow, dancing tune, clear through the bustle. the little flower spins slowly, and you’ve made up your mind.

“what song is this?”

the vendor perks up, picking through his pockets until he finds a folded note. “’moon in one’s cup,’” he announces, “composed by yu-peng from up in yujing terrace.”

you dedicate the name to memory, closing the box and latching it shut. already, your heart is beating a bit fast, excitement and relief filling your chest.

“how much?”

you were hiding something from kazuha. he didn’t know what, he didn’t know why, but he knew it.

well, that was a bit of a lie. if he had to guess, it was whatever you’d gotten for his birthday. he’d done his best to assure you that you needn’t do or buy anything for him, but you’d gone and found something anyway. he couldn’t mind too much, not when the wind around you seemed to curl and skip along, ruffling your hair with self-inflicted pride. you were happy, and that was a fine enough present in itself. it was better than the poorly-hidden worry that always colored your features before, and it was a relief to know that it was a shallow issue you had been hiding. birthday or not, he’d hoped you’d tell him if something was wrong…

but it was nothing, thankfully. you asked him to find you after dinner on the day of, and that was that. the rest of the week slipped away like clouds from the sky, leaving him with a clear mind and a faint smile as he slept.

beidou was, surprisingly, not the first to wish him a happy birthday. it was furong that first saw him enter the breakfast hall, raising a glass with a shout that quickly spread across the crew.

“happy birthday!”

“here, c’mon, let’s get you a drink.”

“a toast!”

“to another year of smooth sailing!”

“to our stormwatcher!”

beidou was, however, sat closest to the door, and so she was the first to throw her arms tight around him, not minding the way his armor certainly dug into her skin.

“happy birthday, kazuha. don’t mind the noise, yeah?”

it would be impossible for a day such as today to turn south. the crew settled down and food was pressed into his hands, the shouting cooling off as they refocused on whatever they had been doing prior to then.

aside from the commotion at breakfast, his day was relatively normal. monitor the supplies coming in to ensure nobody tampered with them, then unpack them below decks. there was less to do, but that was simply because the date of their departure was approaching. within a few more days, he’d be off across open waters once more, keeping eye on the horizon.

that was for later, however. after lunch, he left port and took a stroll north, sitting for a while in an open field. the sky was cloudy, but not enough to worry about rain, so he lay on a flat-enough stone and let inspiration ebb and flow. a haiku here, a scratched out line there, though he was admittedly less focused than usual. the joy from that morning hadn’t really left him, sticking to his clothes and filling his thoughts. he wasn’t blind to the fact that he was welcome aboard the alcor, but it would be foolish to deny the appreciation of such a loud gesture, in meaning and volume.

his birthday didn’t mean much to him. sure, there was another year’s worth of memories to look back upon, a year’s worth of friendship and connections, but that could be declared any other day just as easily. when on the run from the shogunate, there was little time for such things as celebrations…

perhaps that was why he was still smiling. not just because of his friends, but because he had the energy to appreciate them. the ability to take off work and sit in the sun, soaking in nature. the energy to look forward to later obligations, instead of being permanently stuck in the moment.

dinner was far calmer than breakfast. he returned to the fleet late in the evening, ducking below deck to help cook. very few crew members liked (or were even good at) cooking, which meant it often fell to him. today, though, he was ushered out quickly, a few more people than usual seeming determined to block him from entering. it was strange, but not unexpected. the crew was close-knit, with every milestone met with raucous celebration.

he didn’t mind, though, returning above and busying himself with odd tasks. ferrying messages from furong, sorting papers with huixing, any and everything to keep himself occupied until the bell rung and dinner was served. the smell of alcohol quickly stained the air around the crowded dinner table, joining the heady mix of relaxation, joy, and a bit of anticipation.

another surprise awaited him, it seemed. he stuck around after he’d finished his food, noticing when little yue slipped out but not mentioning it. he also looked the other way when he snuck back in with a plate with a somewhat dented cover, letting someone else take his empty plate as the new one was pushed into its place. the conversation fell and he ignored the smell of sugar in the air, lifting the lid.

inside was a cake with shaky, cramped writing, struggling to fit his name in such a small space. it had obviously been made in-house, and was likely whatever secret the chefs had been determined to keep.

the cake itself was okay. a bit too sweet, dense, and with an odd sourness that he couldn’t tell was intentional or not. but the crew was happy and laughing and he didn’t need wine to get dizzy off their high, sitting at a well-worn table in a familiar seat surrounded by those he loved.

there was only one thing left…

he packed one of the last slices and kept it close to his chest as the halls grew quieter, the night air far cooler above deck. anemo softened his fall onto the pier, the wind leading him through the city and into familiar streets. the sight of your house had long since engrained itself into his mind, but he still felt his smile grow, tucking his cake behind his back as he knocked.

you were as beautiful as ever. he was certain you could pick yourself up from a pile of mud and still be sstunning, but tonight you had put in effort. still dressed for the weather, but with a bit more care into the set of your hair, standing straight.

“my muse,” he breathed, taking the small box from behind his back. “i have brought you a gift.”

and of course, you made a fuss about it, about how it was his birthday and that he didn’t have to do anything for you. but was that not the same logic that he had given you? did it matter, really, when the air was sweet with more than sugar and even your mock anger couldn’t hide your excitement?

at your behest, he took your hand in his and led you out of the city. his ‘favorite place’ was rather vauge instruction, but his mind had been made up from the moment he’d seen you. not too far, as he’d hate to stay out too late, but still somewhere nice. past bubu pharmacy, up the stone path, and on the low ridge beside it. few people would be passing by this late at night, but it was still close enough to the city that there were no real threats. a blanket was laid out and you both sat, exchanging gifts. his was in a plain bag, carefully wrapped in layers of protective paper, a small wooden box that looked as if it was meant to have legs but the designer had changed their mind halfway through. it was fine work, if a bit clumsy, but he knew it wasn’t yours. your sudden shift in attitude earlier could only be explained by a storefront. further inspection found a latch on the front and a key embedded in the back, and he understood. inside the music box was (what he could only guess to be) a carved silk flower, though again, one of the stems seemed to have been snapped and hastily covered. he reached for the back and turned the key twice, letting the song begin to play.

it was beautiful. careful notes plucked a carefree song, sounding very much alike to the lighter bands along feiyun slope. the music rose and fell, cheerful but quiet, like a soft satisfaction instead of a bright outburst. it was a lovely song in its own right, but his mind was far elsewhere. you were waiting for his reaction intently, face held in suspense like you thought he might hate it. he’d think it foolish, but that would imply that he disliked it, and that was far from the truth. to know you cared so heavily about his reaction to a simple music box, that your worry was for him, that you had been so excited for him, that you were hoping for his approval as if you didn’t already hold all that he was in your palms. the box could be stolen on his way back to the city, knocked out of his hands and dashed under a heavy cart, and his day would still be all the brighter simply by virtue of you being in it.

it was his birthday, after all, and you were one of the best gifts he could ask for.