#I would like to listen to these without feeling like I’m eavesdropping on a conversation at the end thanks

[blueish-bird]

Logic’s album College Park why are there skits built in to the last half of the majority of these songs? why are they not separate tracks? im enjoying the saxophone on Clone Wars III only to be forced to listen to a drawn-out staged Carl’s Jr. drive thru order. in what context is this relistenable?

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[adanfore]

Something about virgin Choso fucks me up in the head oh my god.

He acts tough. Every time he’s around you, talking to Yuuji, his brothers, he puts on a show as though nothing in the world matters, he’s always calm, layed back. Talking to him, you always got so nervous when he stared you down every time without a care in the world it seems, to you it looked like talking to anyone for him was easy as a breeze of wind, you kind of wished you were like that, like Choso. That also was half of why you were attracted to the man. The other half, well, self explanatory: he was great with his brothers, he was attractive in his own damn way which made your knees weak every time you saw him.

You hadn’t expected him to be a virgin, and a whiney one at that. When you had walked past the bathroom to the kitchen, you heard him in

the bathroom, he was masturbating.. Were you eavesdropping? Yes, but you couldn’t hold yourself from listening in to his beautiful cries of pleasure, whimpering, pleading for some reason, those pretty moans and whines turned you on more than you imagined. Well, the worst part came when you had not realized he was done already, you only realized when he opened the door and stood there, shocked, embarrassement flood over you and you just ran back to the guest bedroom.

If it only wasn’t for you getting carried away, this wouldn’t be happening right now, you and Choso sitting on the sofa, akwardly waiting for Yuuji to come back from the kitchen so the atmosphere turns nice again. You can feel Choso sneaking glances at you, fidgeting with the black silver rings on his fingers. Not wanting to have this continue for any longer, you decided you’d speak up.

“Listen, I’m sorry for yesterday, I just.. uh..”

You couldnt find a explanation for yourself.

“N-No, It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have.. Uhm, I shouldn’t have done it in the bathroom.”

“But I was eavesdropping on you, I need to apologize for that. I just couldn’t help but get carried away from… Shock!”

And as Choso was about to answer, Yuuji suddenly came into the room, having only heard muffles of your conversation.

“Yo, what’re you guys talking about?”

With a panic, you blurt whatever comes to mind.

“ Oh! I was just telling Choso that I’ll be helping him later.”

“Helping him with what?”

“Just washing the dishes, just to repay him for yesterday, I hit him after he scared me in the dark at night!

Yuuji seems content with that answer, and sits between you two. You couldn’t help but notice how Choso looked at you after you said you’ll help him later, eyes a little wide, a deep red spreading on his cheeks. He didn’t know whether to take it seriously or not, well, you were just making an excuse, but still, a gesture like that would blow his mind completely.

After the movie marathon, you both HAD to go wash the dishes, to play some truth into your silly excuse you gave to Yuuji, it was akward, very akward washing dishes with him. But you got to see Choso, the real him, how he was all fidgety, getting clumsy and blushing as hard as a cherry.

“Was it true..? What you said earlier?”

“What are you talking about, Choso?”

“H-How you said you’d help me later..”

“I am helping you thoug- Oh, you mean that?”

You said as the realization hit you, he was hard, and it was all because of your choice of words.

“I-I’m sorry, I am just gonna go, real sorry for thi-“

“N-No, Choso! I- I can help you, if you want me to?”

The sigh Choso gave out was huge.

“Please…”

That was all you needed to hear, proceeding to drag him up to his room at the back of the hall, the location of his room, being secluded and far away from any other room made you so grateful.

You sat him on the edge of his bed, leaning down to massage his thighs.

“How do you want me to help you, Choso?”

Hearing his name come out of your pretty lips always made him want to hold back smashing his face into yours, but now, he was just confused, he didn’t know what would be the most ‘appropriate’ thing to ask. All he wanted now, was to ruin you, to make you his, kiss you, feel and touch you everywhere he had ever dreamed of.

“I.. I don’t know, just- just touch me, do whatever, please..”

When you heard that, you immediately knew that he was a virgin, to your shock infact. Not wanting to torture this poor man any longer, you stopped massaging his thighs for a moment and told him to slide his sweatpants down, all the while looking at the wet spot of precum left on them.

You looked at his length for a second, before actually bringing your hand up to it, to rub and feel it to all of its size, he was huge, possibly the biggest you’ve ever had in a partner. It blew your mind and you wondered how it would feel inside you, how it would fill all of your insides, but, right now it was all about Choso’s pleasure which needed to be fixed.

The pool of precum doubled in size as you continued rubbing it, deciding to finally free it from his boxers, Choso moaned when it sprang up and hit his stomach. That made you look up at him, needing to hear more of his sounds, he looked back at you with a pleading look on his face which just said “please, touch me already”

You grabbed his length with your hand and started stroking it, slowly at first, picking up speed with some time. The moans, whines and whimpers this man put out were sent straight to your core.

“Please, Please, please, go faster, please, I’m gonna cum, Y/N, please!”

That motivated you to pick up speed, also to tighten your grip on his length to up the pleasure for him. His moans were getting out of control until you looked up at him with a strict look, telling him to be quiet. With that sense of dominance, he came all over, all over your hand, his stomach and thighs. His chest heaving, some small moans still coming out as he came down from his high.

You brought your hand up to your mouth, licking your hand and tasting Him before you began to walk out of his room, off to finish yourself off.

“W-Wait, can’t I make you feel good now?”

“I did this as an apology, Choso. Some other time, maybe.”

And with a wink and a smirk to him, you walked off to your room with an almost unbarable heat between your legs, it also had to be fixed.

NOT PROOFREAD ITS FUCKING 5 AM I WANNA GO SLEEP, ILL DO IT SOME OTHER TIME

[ennabear]

heyyy i need loser sevika hc or literally anything do wtv you want im obsessed and i needdds

HEHEHEYAYYYYY i’m glad my loser!sevika thought was well received because i’ve had her on the brain recently… here are some general headcanons, but lemme know if y’all want more or anything specific!!! nsfw at the end so 18+!!!

definitely has no awareness of her surroundings. and the fact that she’s huge makes this even better. bumping into tables at the bar— even knocking them over, running into people 24/7, stepping on and tripping over her cape to the point that the bottom is constantly muddy and shredded… yeah. but it’s so adorable to watch her stumble around!!

i think she’s one of those people who always just quietly eavesdrops. her presence can go unnoticed if she wants it to, so she just leans against a wall and listens to two people share every secret she could ever need about their current enemy. fuck, she’ll probably even take notes and leave the notepad full of info on silco’s desk.

we all know that she’s mastered the scary lady facade, but other than that i think she just… i dunno how to put this nicely… sucks at talking to people. you cannot have a normal conversation with her because she’ll just talk too fast and trip over her words, or she’ll stare at you like she’s trying to kill you the whole time. it takes patience!!! if you’re nerding out with her about mechanics or shimmer variants or something, she’ll go on forever and not let you speak. it’s not like she’s trying to be rude, it’s just that she finally trusts someone enough to talk, and boy does she have a lot to say.

when you first met she was probably this way too, just with wayyyy more blushing and stuttering. if you ever call her cute after one of her rants, she’ll actually short circuit. she’d forget everything she was talking about and stare at you with stars in her eyes and find it suddenly hard to breathe. and is it hot in here? god she’s sweating now, how strange.

i think it would be good for her to be with someone who is more extroverted and will drag her ass out of the house (which is bad for me because i’m even more of a loser than she is…) because she probably sucks at being confrontational or having fun. not that she isn’t funny, she just doesn’t prefer to tell her jokes or to engage in conversation. she calls it being reserved and you call it being shy. (you’re right and she doesn’t want to admit it.)

ok nsfw thoughts now…

strap sucker supreme!! literally her favorite thing ever. she’ll sit under your desk forever and just gag herself on it. probably cumming in her pants with how good you feel down her throat, especially if you run your hands through her hair while she does it. hell yeah!! she could die happy between your legs this way.

imagining that the brothel doesn’t exist in this loserverse (or at least she doesn’t visit it), she’s definitely a virgin when she first meets you!! poor baby would cry her eyes out the first time you fuck her, practically screaming at how good you’re making her feel. she’s never been this intimate with anyone before, never felt so good about herself and her body, and fuck you’re good at this.

she probably loves dry humping and grinding too. you can’t cuddle with her without feeling her hips slowly start to move against you under the blankets. if you tease her about being horny or needy, she’ll just bury her face in your neck and muffle her whimpers. but of course you’ll help her get off, she’s so hard working and deserving of it, of course. just a lil bit of teasing first!!!

hehehe playing into the humiliation side of this (well, not really, she just thinks everything she does is humiliating), imagine asking her very nicely to wear her strap in public, especially if you pick out a tight pair of jeans for her that makes it obvious. the whole time she’d be wide eyed and on edge, assuming that everybody knows, but really nobody can tell because of the way she’s refusing to move her cloak. she won’t even let you grope her or look in her general direction. but also she’s blinded by horniness, she can’t even see straight because the only thing in her mind is how she’s gonna get to fuck you when you get home.

not really nsfw but i think sex with her would also just be so fun!! she’d be giggling at herself and clumsily trying to position you both, or you’d be accidentally kicking each other the whole time in a tangle of limbs and hair and kisses. so fun… so cute… where is my loser butch… (that’s a joke lol i’m the loser butch oops)

[deadsetobsessions]

Gothic mushroom shaped candles. Danny picked one up, grinning. Sam would have love these on her alters. Very Sam, very Gotham.

It a bit bittersweet, now that he could think of her without being paralyzed by crushing grief. Her and Tucker both. Danny turned, keeping an eye on Tim as he glared into the case of used cameras.

Danny walked over and tried not to feel guilty about practically mooching off of a child. Even if the money he was using was actually the Drakes’.

“Like anything you see?”

Tim shook his head. Danny pondered over what little he knew of photography- all of which he learned from documentaries that were more focused on nature.

“I think there might be a camera store a couple of blocks down. We could get the ones that takes photos of animals, like the really big ones that takes photos of wildlife?”

“I guess. I mean, I don’t need it since we can…” Tim glanced around suspiciously. Danny willed his mouth to not smile at Tim’s antics. “Fly close,” the kid finished in a whisper.

“Okay, but what about when I’m not there?”

Tim hunched up on himself and Danny despaired inwardly. Uh oh, what did he say now?”

“Are you going somewhere?” Tim quietly asked, sounding hurt and upset.

“No,” Danny soothed, patting Tim on the head. I mean, what if I’m busy with stuff but you want to go take pictures without me?”

“You said to go get you whenever I wanna go out to take pictures.”

“Okay, yeah, I- well, we might as well get you a quality camera, right? To take really really good pictures of the… local wildlife. Like… the birds and the bats, and all that.” Danny winked exaggeratedly.

Tim blinked and giggled when he got the joke. “Okay, as long as you’re staying!”

Danny grinned, fangs and all. “Of course.”

——

At the end of their shopping spree, generously provided and sponsored by the Drake family and their heavy black card, Danny got a phone and Tim got a wild life camera that was a whopping $4,000 but was compact enough to not look absolutely ridiculous.

“It’s heavy!” Tim whined, as he grinned like a loon.

“It’s quality,” Danny plopped the shopping bags on the island in one of the giant kitchens Drake manor had. “I’ll make dinner. You figure out those settings and you can tell me about it when we eat.”

“Okay!” Tim hummed excited, quick fingers and laser focus already aimed at his new device.

Danny picked up his new phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. As it rung, Danny held it up to his ear and began prepping the ingredients. At least

“Hello?” His sister’s cautious voice came through the phone. Danny’s shoulders relaxed.

“Heya, Jazz.” He could see Tim’s ears all but perk up in order to eavesdrop. His mouth quirked up in amusement and Danny turned away. He probably shouldn’t be encouraging that kind of behavior… but it was funny.

“Danny! Are you okay? I- I heard that they chased after you and I was worried sick! Are you safe? Any injuries? Do I need to pick you up?”

“I’m good. Promise. Not bleeding out or dying. It’s actually pretty nice right now,” Danny paused before turning back a little more so he could watch Tim’s reaction peripherally. “Hey, listen, can I adopt a little brother?”

He watched Tim sit up straighter eyed flickering up to him and back down again, a secretly pleased look on his face as he figured out that Danny was in fact talking about him.

“Danny, what the hell?” Jazz huffed, audibly relieved to know that Danny wasn’t on his merry way to becoming a full on ghost. “Who, why, and what kind of trouble did you get into now?”

“Hey, this was me getting out of trouble. Those people don’t even know where I escaped to. Tim helped me out a lot,” Danny said in the tone that meant ‘and there’s more to it but I can’t tell you right now.’

“His name’s Tim?”

“Yeah, you wanna say hi?”

Tim looked terrified as he heard Danny’s side of the conversation. Danny could relate.

“Alright. But you’re explaining everything later, got it?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Danny turned to Tim, abandoning the peas he was shelling and rinsing off his hand to hold the phone.

“Tim, my sister, Jazz, wants to say hi. Are you cool with that?”

“Uhm! Yeah! Yeah, sure.” Tim, honest to ancients, squeaked. Danny’s enhanced hearing could pick up Jazz’s already melting heart. He taped a button.

“Jazz, you’re on speaker.”

“Hey, Tim. I’m Jazz. Thanks for taking care of my little brother!”

“Uh, hi, Jazz! I’m Timothy Drake! And, uh, you’re welcome! Anytime!”

Tim glanced at Danny for reassurance, relaxing a bit when the halfa threw him a double thumbs up.

Jazz went quiet.

“Jazz, you good?” Danny asked.

“We’re adopting him. Danny, you better make sure knows about everyone. Hi, Tim, I’m Jazz, your new big sister.”

“Uh- I have parents.”

“That can be fixed,” Jazz casually brushed off. Tim looked like a deer in headlights, so Danny took his sister off speaker and went back to cooking. He made sure to smile at Tim.

“Don’t worry, we won’t adopt you if you don’t want to. But it wasn’t a joke, we’re very serious.”

“I’ll think about it?”

Danny shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

“So, where are you?” Jazz asked him, rustling coming through on the phone.

“Gotham.”

“You are so fucking lucky I love you, dumbass. I’ll be there tomorrow at noon.”

“Playing hooky, are you?”

“Fuck off, little brother, before I show Tim your toddler pictures.”

“Thanks, Jazz.”

“Bye, Danny. Don’t get killed again when I’m not there, got it?”

“Sure, sure.”

Danny smiled and returned to his agenda of stuffing as many vegetables into one meal as he can. At least the food isn’t trying to tear out his face.

——

Robin hasn’t heard the eerie giggles around lately, but he’s been practicing his own. It’s weird though, because there’s always a glint of something in the corner of his eyes.

“Robin, muggers.”

“On it, B. Shall we, Batgirl?”

“Let’s go, Boy Wonder.”

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 1: Overheard [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

Note: Welp I had the itch to write again so here I am. Though sleep deprived because baby keeps waking up every 3 hours to feed... I wanted to do this haha. Based on @soulprompts “I love you” prompts. What other character should I do?

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread, some are just concepts of liking someone, having a crush on them, while some are full blown love confessions. SOME ARE ANGSTY, chose only the male characters I wanted to write for instead of forcing myself to do all of them.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader  

Other works in this series: (Part 2 - Description)

Scenario: Talking to a friend about how you feel about him. Unbeknownst to you, he was listening, hidden round the corner. What does he do?

Aether

“He’s sweet,” You simply answer when asked what you like about Aether. “I mean, he’s a simple guy. He’s not a mystery, it’s not hard to read him nor to get along with him. I guess that’s one of the reasons why a lot of people like him.” 

“Uhuh,” your friend drawls, their head lazily resting on their hand. “but you don’t just like Aether. You seriously LIKE him,” 

You’re rendered speechless by the statement for a second, tripping over your first words, “Well--I mean--” and as if realizing you’re making a fool of yourself by speaking in garbles, you recover. “Yeah, I guess...” You don’t know why you admit to it, but it’s not like your friend didn’t already know.

What he does:

Is tempted to immediately walk up to you and reconfirm the conversation.

Stops himself for a minute and replays the whole conversation in his head, probably once, twice and maybe a third time.

Second guesses himself, but when he finally goes through all possible options, he realizes there’s no mistaking the overheard confession.

All the while, Paimon is nagging him to go talk to you. “You didn’t hear wrong! Stop thinking too much, hurry and go!” Ends up being pushed out into the open by his flying companion.

“Erm...Ahem” he coughs into his fist. “I...didn’t mean to eavesdrop...Y/N, sorry, but... can we continue this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere...a little more private?” and the shy smile he gives you is a tell tale sign that he had most likely felt the same.

Albedo

“His schedule is always busy. He has his hands full with Klee, on top of all the work he needs to do,” was your excuse to your friend when asked why you haven’t confessed to the alchemist yet. “I don’t think Albedo has time for this type of thing, you know? He doesn’t need a distraction.”

What he does:

His logical side agrees that he doesn’t need a distraction.

But the other part of him doesn’t mind if its you.

Pauses for a moment, thinks about it for a second, before confronting you about it just minutes later.

“...Schedules can be made flexible, Y/N,” you jump at his sudden voice. “Just as distractions...can sometimes be a good thing,” Albedo stretches a hand out to you. “...Care to test how good of one you can be to me?” 

Alhaitham

“Y/N, Alhaitham is FAR from stupid. There’s no way he hasn’t figured out that you have a crush on him,”

“Shush!!” You swerve around to your friend, ducking a little, as if that would help you become invisible. “People could be listening, besides, if that’s true, then it’s even worse. It means that he knows, and probably has no interest in me, so let’s just forget about it, ok?” 

What he does:

..................................No he doesn’t know. Sure he’s smart but............he could be dense when it came to these things. That, or he just didn’t know what to do.

Does not confront you about it immediately. In fact he turns around and walks away without being spotted, opting to think about his next steps instead of just rushing into the conversation.

Lo and behold a few days later he’ll show up in front of you with his usual stoic expression.

“Y/N,” he starts, and you freeze on the spot, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Y-Yes?” You haven’t seen nor heard from him in days and as usual, you attributed it to him being busy. Little did you know that he had been mulling over how to talk to you.

“I heard your conversation with (your friend) the other day,” straightforward was his answer to everything, even in this particular situation. 

It takes you a few seconds to internalize his words. You’re not even sure which conversation he means. You talk to (your friend) a lot. Your brows start to furrow in confusion, until he clarifies. 

“...I wouldn’t say that I completely have no interest in you,” he starts, and your shoulders tense up, now realizing which conversation it was. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, all you wanted to do was run away. 

Alhaitham holds back a sigh, “...Anyway, here is no place to talk about this... I’ll meet you at Puspa Cafe tonight, if you’re free,” 

You’re FAR from stupid too, and knew exactly what he was trying to do.

Ayato

“Besides why would the Lord Commissioner even look at someone like me?” you hiss at your friend who was trying to persuade you that Ayato also had the hots for you. It just seemed a little delusional to you.

“He takes the chance to rile you up every time he sees you. He’s obviously doing it on purpose,” your friend counters. You roll your eyes up to high heaven.

“He does that to everyone...” you conclude, knowing that Ayato had the habit of--though you don’t know if intentionally--giving his servants a scare. 

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to be so jealous,” your friend quips back, you send them a quick glare before going back to doing your own work.

What he does:

Doesn’t even bat an eye. Smirks as he hears the whole story. 

Confidently reveals his presence to the two of you, chuckling.

“Jealousy doesn’t usually paint a beautiful colour,” he starts, the overly pleasant smile on his face. You straighten up immediately, eyes changing into saucers when you realize he had heard the whole thing. You open your mouth to explain, but he beats you to it.

“But I must say it looks a little different on you, Y/N, almost charming,” The side of his lip quirks up the slightest bit into a subtle grin. You bite your lip, there he is again trying to rile you up, maybe (your friend) was right. 

“...Is there anything I can do for you Lord Commissioner?” you ask, trying to stray away from the subject. He only chuckles. 

“You’ll find that there are a LOT of things you can do for me, Y/N. Start by accompanying me to tea, hm?” He wasn’t really asking, it was almost a command. 

You wished your friend snickering on the side would just shut up.

Cyno

“...He’s a little intimidating don’t you think? I don’t know why you like him so much,” your friend comments, slacking off on their pile of paperwork. You roll your eyes at them. 

“Maybe because he works hard, unlike other people,” you shake your head a little. 

“As General Mahamatra he’s supposed to work hard. Just admit that you have weird tastes.” your friend counters, still procrastinating on their share of work.

“Okay, so what if he’s a little vicious in his ways? He’s just doing his job. Now, it would help me if you started doing yours as well,” 

What he does:

Doesn’t know what to do.

Stands hidden for quite a long time. The subject has already moved on and away from him.

Torn between revealing himself now or later. 

Can’t think properly so exits from the situation and comes back later that same day, when you’re still working with your friend.

As he approaches your table, your friend notices him first. (Your friend) nudges you with their elbow, tilting their chin up to let you know that someone was approaching. 

You pick your head up, and feel yourself go rigid when you see that it’s Cyno. At first you think to yourself that he might not be here to talk to you, maybe he’s just about to walk by...but he stops in front of your table and you’re left to wordlessly look up at him.

There’s a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“...I value the high praise that you give me,” he starts and you immediately want to duck under the table and hide.

He heard. 

“O-Oh, G-General Mahamatra, you heard that...It’s...nothing, hard work deserves to be praised...” you avert your gaze down to the papers you were working on, pretending to continue and be busy with them. 

There was an awkward pause, your eyes darting up towards him for a second, checking if he was still looking at you, before breaking away again and furiously flipping through papers.

“...Do you want to play some TCG?” 

“Huh?” You end up with an incredulous look on your face, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face is still blank, but the usual tenseness in the way he carried himself gave way for a barely seen relaxation. It was hard to spot, but it was there. 

You ended up sighing a little in what you could only describe as relief, giving him a lopsided smile. “Sure, but go easy on me, I haven’t played in a while,”

“That’s fine. Perhaps a daily practice session will do you good,”

Dainsleif

“Mysterious, aloof, disappears into thin air... A man like that? You probably should stay away, Y/N. You don’t know what he dabbles in,” (Your friend) warns, looking at you with genuine concern. 

“Perhaps he has some secrets...but I don’t think he’s a bad guy at all. I’ve spent some time conversing with Dainsleif here and there,” you continue to wipe the tables, not noticing that the man you were talking about had long entered the tavern already and was now standing behind the two of you.

“At least he’s handsome, there’s that,” (Your friend) adds. 

“Sure, but that’s not the only reason I like him,” you laugh.

What he does:

Wonders if he heard the conversation right and overanalyzes what you mean by “like” him.

Either way it stirs a strange emotion in him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Prefers to get things over with and thinks there’s no harm in confronting you immediately.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Thinking that it was a customer you turn around with a pleasant smile, only for it to slowly dwindle down into a shocked expression.

Dainsleif.

“Y/N,” he nods his head towards you casually. You gulp, force a smile, and nod back. “Hi, you’re early today,” just as your friend slips away from the conversation. Dainsleif doesn’t even spare them a glance.

He doesn’t have much to say about your comment of him being early. He doesn’t particularly know why he was early today either. Perhaps...fate would have him hear the conversation between you and (Your friend).

“Yes, well, it looks like there were benefits to being early today,” he meets you eye to eye, the intensity in his gaze almost makes you blush from your neck all the way up to the top of your head, but you fought the giddiness back. 

“...What can I get you?” there’s a shiver that threatens to run up your spine, wondering if your deflection was successful. Dainsleif closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them with a strange sense of courage. 

“Your company,”

Diluc

“It’s been years,” (Your friend) says, the two of you looking up at the massive oak tree of Windrise. They glance at you from the side of their eye before continuing. “Are you still in love with Diluc?”

There’s a breeze that passes, almost melancholic, and partly whispered of sorrow. “...I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.” You pick your hand up to rub at your arm. “Jean, Kaeya, Diluc and I...So many things have changed since we were kids...but I don’t think that spot for Diluc will ever go away,”

“Does he know, at least?” (Your friend) asks and you half scoff. 

“I’m not sure, I get the feeling he does, but doesn’t act on it. Which is why...maybe the only way to solve this emptiness is to leave Mondstadt altogether.” 

“Out of sight, out of mind huh?” (Your friend) claps your back, and turns around to start walking away with you.

What he does:

Internally a mess of emotions. Doesn’t know where to start. 

but he’s just standing there and he’s stuck watching (your friend) and you turn around to come face to face with him. 

He looks at you, a wave of memories and emotions flashing through his mind all at once, it almost overwhelms him. 

“D-Diluc,” you stutter, heart freezing in your chest. You see him take a steadying breath in, prying his gaze away from you and over to (Your friend).

“(Your friend), could you give us a minute?” he asks. (Your friend) obliges, passing you a quick glance before going ahead on their own. Another breeze runs by, ruffling his long red hair. 

“...I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you start, and yet he doesn’t say anything, prompting you to continue talking. “...You don’t have to think about it too much, it’s just silly--”

“I wasn’t sure,” he cuts you off, eyes drawn to the ground now. “I wasn’t sure...if you really felt that way.” 

The statement somehow exasperates you. “You weren’t sure? All those times I stayed by your side when everyone else left--” then it hits you. “Or were you scared, Diluc?”

The quick grimace in his expression tells you the answer. His reply comes a few seconds later, “I was, I still am,” but he picks his head up, and finally looks you straight in the eye. “...but this time...” his fists clench on his side. “This time give me the chance to show you how much I really care about you,”

He was not going to lose you too.

Itto

“Seriously?! Itto? Arataki Itto? Are you for real?” (Your friend) announces to nearly half of the food stall, the other customers swerving around to look at the two of you. 

"Oh, say it a bit louder why don’t you?” You roll your eyes at your friend and continue eating.”

“Sorry. I just--Out of all the people you could choose, your huge crush is on that big brute??” your can tell by the look on your friend’s face that they think you have weird tastes.

What he does:

Butts in without even thinking of the conversation. Has no clue what’s going on.

“Crush?!”

You and your friend startle, swerving around to see none other than the oni with his hands on his hips. “Y/N?! You planning on crushing me?!” then he guffaws with laughter, slapping his knees in the process. “Yeah right, you’re no match for me!”

Your previously gaped open mouth slowly closes and your shoulders relax, sighing. You’re a little disappointed he doesn’t get it at all. Your friend shakes their head with a long sigh. “You stupid oaf, we don’t mean it that way...” 

Itto’s head tilts sideways, a genuinely confused look on his face. “No? Then... Watcha all talkin about?” 

You grab your friend’s arm and pull them forward the slightest bit. “It’s not important! Actually, we better get going--”

“Y/N has a CRUSH on you, idiot! Y/N LIKES you!” Your friend explodes, patience long gone. 

Itto blinks at the confession, his eyes darts towards you, “...Oh,” then there’s the slight tugging at his chest, he can’t help but beam and smile silly. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself Y/N! I like you too!”

You’re not sure if he really understood the confession in its entirety. 

Kaeya

“It’s all just fun and games with Kaeya. It doesn’t mean anything,” you laugh sheepishly, yet you rub the back of your neck a little.

“...Do you want it to be just fun and games?” your friend chides, and there’s a moment of silence. The two of you just sitting there already knowing the answer, it’s almost uncomfortable, until your friend sighs. 

“...Let’s change the subject,” 

What he does: 

responds immediately. Will not wait a second longer to come out of his hiding place and ask about what he just heard.

“How about let’s not?” Kaeya emerges out of nowhere, slipping into the seat next to you at the cafe. His poise is confident and instantly his head lazily places itself into the palm of his hand, gaze lingering at you. 

“Snowflake, I had no idea you felt like that,” his voice is smooth like ice and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“...I didn’t say anything though?” you countered, trying to evade the conversation. Your friend watches on with interest. 

“Silence speaks volumes, Y/N,” Kaeya scoots even closer to you, your shoulders touching each other. However, he maneuvers his arm around to lay on the seat behind you. “So if you’re opposed to what I’m about to do, better speak up,”

He leans closer, inch by inch, he waits for you to say something.

You stay silent.

He grins.

Scaramouche

“Hat guy? He’s brutal. But who am I to comment on your tastes, Y/N. You’ve always been weird,” (Your friend) chides, watching as you go over the bookshelf again. 

“Stop calling him that,” You murmur under your breath, more focused on finding the right book for your research. “That’s not his only distinctive feature, you know,” you continue, still engrossed in looking for a book.

“Oh? What else are his “distinctive features”?” (Your friend) drawls, rolling their eyes. 

You hum a little, then plop on the ground cross-legged, wanting to get a better look on the last row of books of the Akademiya’s library. “...His eyes,” you simply answer. “They’re a beautiful shade of violet-blue...He’s always glaring at someone half of the time but he actually has very pretty eyes,” 

There’s silence and you finally get the peace you need to concentrate. However, that silence is broken by a voice that you know all too well.

What he does:

is amused.

thinks its cute pathetic.

will still look angry but will have a hard time actually being angry.

will be cocky.

“My eyes, huh?”

It’s hard to completely turn around in your sitting position, so you do the best you can to turn, side eye landing on Scaramouche’s form. He has his arms crossed as usual, but there’s a smug smirk on his face. “Didn’t know it was that fascinating to you, bookeater,”

It was supposed to be an insulting nickname for you, who always had your nose in a book, but you took no offense to it at all.

You didn’t know what to say, so you continued staring at him. He being the anti-social person that he was, just stared back. There was a big gap of silence before he felt that it was becoming too awkward. 

“...What’re you looking for?” he blurted out.

“...A book...”

“Are you stupid? Of course you’re looking for a book. I meant what’s the title?” There his usual sneer was back again and he unfolded his arms to look at you unimpressively. 

“...A History of Inazuma: Volume 2...” you meekly replied, slowly realizing that he actually heard you praising him.

“You’re in the wrong section,” the exasperated sigh he gives out causes you to wince, and you turn away back to the bookshelf as if to shield you from all this embarrassment. 

“If it’s about Inazuma, you should just be asking me,” you blink as your peripheral catches sight of an outstretched hand. You tilt your head to see that he’s offering his hand, but his face is blank.

“...Well? Come on. I don’t have all day,”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, something about the way he said it sounds threatening, but also slightly playful. But that’s just the way he was. 

You accept his hand, and he pulls you up easily.

Xiao

“Oh so that’s why you’re coming over more frequently...” (Your friend) grins, and you wave your hands around to tell them to quiet down. Adepti had good hearing after all.

“Well, I’m also coming over cause Verr Goldet needs more help these days in the kitchen. You guys are getting so much customers these days that Yanxiao has a hard time by himself,”

“Uhhuuhhhhhh, sure...was it also Verr Goldet who told you to try and master the Almond Tofu recipe from Yanxiao? Cause you’re awfully hell bent on trying to learn that recipe, according to Yanxiao,” 

You fall silent, feeling heat crawling up your neck. “I--” You start, searching for an excuse, but realized there was no escaping this one. “I just want to do something nice for Xiao, that’s all,” you innocently quip. “I...I know I can’t help him much, but maybe just cooking his favourite dish will help, even a little,”

(Your friend) smiles a little, knowing that the adepti probably heard everything. “That’s nice of you, Y/N. You must care about him a lot,” 

What he does:

once upon a time he would do absolutely nothing. because getting involved with humans is something he shouldn’t do.

But now he bides his time, and observes if it’s safe to open up. 

He wouldn’t outright thank you at first, but he’ll slowly show up in front of you a little more everyday.

He’s rather awkward, so at first he only nods his head as thanks when you leave the bowl of almond tofu on the ledge.

Eventually when he realizes you’re not going to stop cooking for him he goes the extra mile to do something simple for you too.

He places a stalk of your favourite flower on the ledge, right before you come to put down his bowl of almond tofu. 

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Check it out here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BVD1VVFP

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[kayjaywrites]

Ink & Beans (Azriel x Reader Oneshot)

D20 Dice Roll Prompt: 11. “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.” Fluff/Humor/SFW

Summary: You ask Azriel to spy on someone for gossip and he does it.

Word Count: ~2,100

Content Warning: None really, Az gets a little horned up but it's not explicit.

Authors Notes: I have a prompt list going for when I have writer's block. I’m gonna start rolling a d20 dice and do the prompt it lands on, replacing the finished prompt with a new one. I’d love to add requests and ideas from you guys to the list!

XxXx

Azriel arrived at your favorite coffee shop three hours before you. Ink & Beans was a small business within The Rainbow, founded by a family of Fae known for their writing prowess. The youngest daughter of the family, Raychelle, did not inherit the family’s writing talent, but loved creative writing all the same. Instead of stewing on her back to back publication rejections, she threw herself into creating a safe creative space for herself, and anyone else like her. The result was a questionably named cafe with workshops, peer editors, late hours, and caffeine. It was a fool proof business model really. Even before Azriel got close to you, he enjoyed visiting the cafe.

Everything about the place oozed comfort. The lights, warm and dim, were soothing and complimented the rustic cottage theme well. The booths were cozy, yet supportive, and although Azriel had been nursing his tea for 2 and half hours he did not feel sore for sitting so long.

Now, it wasn’t unusual for him to loiter around alone. People watching and eavesdropping were a huge part of his job after all. However if anyone had asked him yesterday if he’d ever spy within Ink & Bean he would have said no. There was never a reason to investigate the cafe, he was on a first name basis with the owner and most of the regulars.

Yet, here he was, deploying his shadows and listening in to customer and staff conversations. All because he was a sucker.

He loved listening to you talk. It didn’t matter what you were hyper focusing on, he couldn’t get enough of your passion. So when you dove into an elaborate breakdown of the relationships among those that frequent Ink & Beans he was all too happy to listen. He didn’t like drama that involved him, but hearing other people’s drama was one of his favorite things about being a spymaster. He never got mad at unintentional gossip while on missions, it was often a highlight for him.

So yeah, he was a little invested in your theory that one of the regulars, a quiet male named Fin, was flirting with Raychelle, and that Raychelle was flirting back. He’d been going there with you for almost a decade now, and he’d never seen Raychelle show interest in anyone. If anything he’d witnessed her curb potential suitors with efficient politeness.

And you were talking with such conviction, eyes fiery and excited when he shared your curiosity. You swept him up in that magnitude of yours, the same pull that made you a best selling romance author he supposed. Your enthusiasm became his, and suddenly he was sharing his own theories.

He’d noticed Fin blushing at Raychelle on occasion when she took his order, but never saw him flustered when another employee was at the register. You’d noticed that too, and somehow by the end of the gossip session he had agreed to working on his day off. 

Like a sucker.

Just like you said, Fin came by on his lunch break and spent it chatting with Raychelle in between rushes. You were willing to bet money that if he listened in on the conversation, he would learn the true nature of their relationship, and before he knew what he was doing he was agreeing to stake out the place for three hours for you.

Only for you to be so wrong. He was a regular enough that he figured his presence wouldn’t be anything of note. Apparently his presence without you was fuel for the gossip train.

Jennifer, a young local artist who came in on her daily coffee run for her office had made an offhand comment to the new girl on the register, Heather, “It was rare to see Azriel here without Ms. Reader.” 

Two of the regular weekday afternoon dishwashers in the back were wondering if you were standing Azriel up, and if they thought they had a chance with you. This update from the shadows had left him fuming, because no, they did not have a chance with you if he had anything to say about it.

A good looking female came in, evidentantly a first time customer as she asked Raychelle what she would recommend, and then subtly but not subtle enough gestured to Azriel and asked if he was single. In which Raychelle said that he wasn’t.

Which wasn’t true, and he was sure Raychelle knew he was unattached.

Then Fin finally showed up for his lunch break, and Raychelle almost caught Azriel watching them as she followed Fin to a secluded booth on the opposite side of the cafe than him. They were just out of earshot so his shadows did the listening for him.

And boy oh boy. The gossip they overheard was juicy.

Raychelle and Fin spent the entire lunch hour talking about how obvious it was that you were in love with Azriel. Raychelle was furious at him for being so oblivious to “what was right in front of him”. Fin was starting to think that you were secretly dating Azriel already, because there was no way the spymaster of the Night Court didn’t notice your feelings. According to them, you looked at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. You checked him out all the time. When he wasn’t around, you talked about how much you missed him, and were here more often while he was on missions.

Azriel’s head was spinning from the new intel by the time you sat yourself in the booth across from him. For nearly three hours the most popular topic of gossip within Ink & Beans was you.

“So did you learn anything interesting?” You dove right into it, foregoing a greeting as you leaned across the small table, studying him with eager excitement.

“Yes.” Azriel took in how oblivious you were, so focused on him you didn’t notice the way surrounding conversations quieted down around you. Was this how it always was when you guys met up here? If so, Azriel understood Raychelle’s annoyance. How had he not noticed?

You shifted in your seat, your hand drumming on the wooden tabletop in impatience. “And?”

“You know you are the only person I’d ever do something like this for, right?” Azriel said instead.

Perplexed, you cocked your head to the side. “Uh, I guess. So?”

“So: I don’t typically just take jobs without some sort of payment. Especially on my day off.” Azriel leaned back, crossing his arms casually over his chest as an amused smile found his lips.

“Are you trying to charge me, spymaster?” Your voice rose in pitch, incredulous.

He merely shrugged. “The intel was…valuable. Figured I should at least get something out of it.”

You laughed, the type of twinkling delight that had a similar joy rising in his own chest. “Alright, alright you’ve sold me, whatever you want, but I’ve got to know what you’ve learned this instant it’s killing me.”

Azriel could hear a pin drop in the room. He clocked movement behind the counter, the two male dishwashers had come upfront, likely curious, they did fancy you after all. Their presence had his easygoing smile falling as he fixed you with a serious stare.

Whatever he wanted, right? That was a deal he couldn’t pass up.

“I arrived at 10am. From 10am-12:02pm no one spoke about Raychelle and Fin. There is no evidence of anyone else suspecting Raychelle and Fin to fancy each other. You were correct in noting that Fin would come for his 1hr lunch break. From 12:02pm-1:49pm Fin and Raychelle talked in a booth away from the crowded part of the cafe, but not about their feelings for each other or their relationship.”

Your lips parted, confusion creasing your brow. “Well that doesn’t seem to pass as ‘valuable intel’ to me.” You snarked.

“Hmm,” He nodded, unable to keep the mischief out of his voice as he spoke, “the valuable intel is in who they were actually gossiping about.”

Your jaw dropped open, falling for his set up hook, line, and sinker, “Ohhhhh, and who were they gossiping about?”

Pausing for dramatic effect, he studied you long enough for you to visibly grow nervous. “You.” Azriel revealed.

Your nostrils flared, your breath hitching as you averted your gaze. It was rare for him to see you rendered speechless. “No guesses on what they were saying about you?” He inquired.

You barely managed to meet his gaze for a second before your eyes shifted to a spot on the wall beside his head. “I have a theory,” you confessed, bashful, “but would prefer to keep it to myself until you finish your report.”

Azriel hummed in response, enjoying the way your gaze would dart back to his face, like you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. He knew that he looked at you in much the same way.

“Everyone here either thinks we're secretly dating, or going to be dating soon. Raychelle and Fin spent Fin’s lunch break commiserating on how frustrating it was to watch us. The people of Ink & Beans think you are in love with me.”

It was so quiet in the room he could hear your heartbeat pickup. He wouldn’t be surprised if it felt like it was in your throat instead of your chest, so Azriel continued his debrief to spare you having to find a response. “And I think they’re right, because they were right about the other person they were gossiping about too. I also was a popular topic of conversation these last three hours, they were right about what they thought about me too. I think you are in love with me–I hope you are in love with me, because I am in love with you.”

“Azriel,” His name was whispered like a prayer on an exhale, “maybe we should have this conversation in a more private location.” Your face was beat red, and you looked like you were about to pass out.

You were never one for making a scene in public. Honestly, this was all probably mortifying for you. Normally, it would be for him too, but he remembered the dishwashing males plotting ways to woo you.

“Of course,” Azriel stood, stretching his wings out as he reached for your hand and guided you to stand next to him, “but first I want my payment. Whatever I want, right? That’s what you said.”

You looked utterly lost, unable to look him in the eye for too long, but too confused to not search for his intentions in his facial expression. “Okay, sure, what would you like, I don’t have much with me right now so I don’t know why this has to happen this moment, but I’ll do my best–”

Azriel always found your nervous rambling cute. He knew you’d be upset with him if he let you go on for much longer in front of everyone at Ink & Beans. “I’m sure you can provide me with a kiss, unless you have a specific lipstick in mind for our first kiss?”

You gaped at him, and he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, his scars rough against your soft skin. Gently, he closed your mouth, leaning in slowly just in case you wanted to pull away. But you didn’t, his lips touched yours, and you melted into him. Your smaller, curvier body pressed tight against his front as the kiss deepened and found rhythm.

Too soon, reality seemed to find the both of you again, and Azriel was aware that he was starting to get aroused very publically in your favorite coffee shop. One look at you, and it seemed you were no better off than him, the gleam in your eyes sending thrills down his spine. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Azriel bent down to whisper in your ear, and you shivered, “I think I do want to continue this conversation in a more private location.”

You turned your face, lips brushing against his pulse point in his neck as you spoke. “Me too.”

XxXx

Upon returning to Ink & Beans after the mating frenzy subsided, you and Azriel were greeted by tarps, workers, and piles of building supplies outside of the storefront. Raychelle had been signing something on a clipboard when she caught sight of you, and hurried to embrace you, clipboard forgotten on the ground where she dropped it.

She’d used the winnings from a store wide bet to expand the shop. She and Fin had split the winnings, the only two fae to predict your and Azriel’s mating bond.

XxXx

My inbox is open, drop requests to be added to my prompt list! My other work can be found here!

[oliwrites]

Eavesdrop

relationship: loki x fem!reader

genre: smut

summary: loki cant help but overhear your conversation with natasha

warnings: smut (18+) unprotected piv, fingering, thigh riding, squirting, soft dom loki??, multiple orgasms, loki being nosy

“I dunno, Nat… I love him to death, I really do… it’s just…” You say as you run your fingers through your hair. You didn’t like the idea of talking ‘bad’ about Loki behind his back, but this is the only way to get the emotions and thoughts off your chest.

“What is it? Stop beating around the bush! C’mon, I’m good at keeping secrets” Natasha replied, sipping on her beer.

“It’s kind of TMI but—”

“Oh please, TMI is nothing in this friendship and you know it, just spit it out!”

“Well… when Loki and I get… y’know… everything starts out great, but he just gets all soft and vanilla-y and I just wanna—” You start to explain, but stop when what you really want to say gets caught in the back of your throat.

What you and Natasha didn’t know is that Loki had walked out of the bedroom. His ears perked when he heard you say his name, so he walked towards Natasha’s room and listened in.

“Go on…” Natasha said

“Well… when we get frisky… he gets all soft and shit… like all mushy and gushy. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when he’s sweet to me… but I really just wanna be fucked. Not ‘made love to’ but ‘fucked so hard I can’t walk’ y’know?” I explain, a feeling of guilt washing over me as I finally say it.

“Have you tried bringing it up to him?”

“No… I want to, but I just don’t know how or when”

Loki frowned. Was he really boring you that much? You seemed pretty into it when the two of you were in action.

“I mean, when Bruce and I first started out, he was all mushy and stuff, all up until I sat him down in his bedroom and just told him how I felt. Ever since he’s pretty much been Hulk smashing me,” Natasha explained. I roll my eyes at her ‘Hulk smash’ comment

“What if I hurt his feelings?”

“He literally terrorized the city of New York and Stüggart, killed 80 people in 2 days, almost killed the entirety of the Frost Giant race, and faked his death 2 times. I don’t think he’ll be offended. Honestly, he might be more offended if you don’t tell him,” Natasha explained.

“But—”

“No buts, you’re literally the love of his life, and he would probably do anything to make you happy. Just trust me, babe, Loki isn’t going to be offended or mad, just communicate,” Natasha cut you off

Loki agreed silently. Natasha was right. He wasn’t offended or upset. He would climb the highest mountains and cut through every forest just go make you happy, if you asked. He decided to gather a plan, and he walked back into his room.

“You’re right. Thank you, Nat,” I smile and start to stand up, grabbing my beer bottle, and taking another drink of it, “I’m gonna go talk to him about it,” you smile, trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling within your stomach.

“I would say tell me how it goes, but I’m sure I’ll be able to tell if you have a limp tomorrow or not,” Nat snorted, you flipped her off playfully and started to walk out of the room.

When you entered the hallway, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of your pocket and saw a text from Loki.

Loki: come visit me if you can, my little dove

You smile at his text. The nickname “little dove” always made your heart flutter. You pocket your phone and walk towards Loki’s room. You don’t even bother knocking, considering he was expecting you.

What you weren’t expecting was Loki to practically jump you the second you walked in.

He closed the door and pressed you firmly against it, kissing you hungrily as he groped your breasts without care. It took you by surprise, but you quickly melted into the kiss, kissing him back just as roughly.

Your guys’ tongue and teeth clashed together as he guided you to his bed, pushing you down onto it, before removing his shirt, and hastily removing your sweatpants and tossing them to the side. Before he flipped you over, setting you on his thigh

“Ride me.” He commanded, leaving no room for discussion. You blush and move your hand to the string of his sweatpants, “Not there,” he said simply.

You blush before experimentally rubbing your panty-clad cunt against his thigh. You let out a shaky moan at the new feeling. Loki growled before he started bouncing his leg. You let out a surprised, but aroused shriek, stopping the movement of your hips.

You let out another shriek when you felt his hand come down harshly on your ass.

“Did I say you could stop?” He asked in a serious tone. You shake your head no, “then keep going,” He said simply, before he started to bounce his leg again.

You continue to grind down on him as he bounce his leg. The feeling of cotton against your clit had you almost screaming as you continued to buck down against his thigh.

“Loki, I—” You started, before you cut yourself off with another moan.

“Soak me,” He said, grabbing your hips and pushing you down harder against his thigh.

Your whole body quivered as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your ears started to ring as you soaked his thigh completely, your juices squirting all over him.

He gave you no time to recover before he flipped you over and ripped your panties off and shoving two fingers inside of you, going at a rapid pace.

“Oh gods, Loki!” You screamed out, arching your back off the bed as his fingers drilled into you.

“You wanted to be fucked, hm? Oh I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow…” He said huskily, before going down and attaching his lips to your clit, sucking it harshly.

His words did not process in your mind, instead you screamed out his name and tangled your fingers into his hair.

He curled his fingers at just the right spot and you came again, soaking his face, fingers, and the bedsheets below you as your arousal sprayed out of you once again.

Loki stood up and took off his sweatpants and boxer before flipping you over so your ass is in the air. Without warning he plunged into you, fucking you at a breakneck pace.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? You wanted to be fucked? Treated like a toy?” Loki growled, before slapping your ass harshly as he continued to drill into your abused hole.

“Yes! Fuck, Loki!” You screamed out, grinding back into his hips, meeting each of his thrusts. The words he said remained incoherent, as, lack for better words, he fucked your brains out.

He grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged it back, using it as leverage to fuck you even deeper. You gripped onto the bedsheets for dear life as he pummeled you with his cock.

He grunted as he felt his orgasm approaching, he reached forward, circling your clit at a rapid pace, causing you to scream out his name.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly as he fucked you swiftly. You tried to warn him, but were caught off by your orgasm as if ripped through your body.

You screamed out in sheer pleasure as you came on his cock. Your orgasm triggered his and he thrusted as deep as he could, spilling his seed deep inside of your quim.

He laid down next to you and looked at you with pure love in his eyes. You adjusted and laid down as well, looking at him.

“I actually wanted to talk—” You started, before being cut off by Loki

“You wanted to be fucked, not made love to… I overheard you and the Black Widow talking,” Loki said with a smile, “I hope I was able to fulfill your dreams,”

“Mmm… maybe another round or so could really fulfill my dreams” You smirked before crawling on top of Loki, starting yet another round

~ The Next Morning ~

You woke up in Loki’s bed, with Loki still sleeping peacefully next to you. You smile and decide to get up and head out to the kitchen for coffee.

You walked down the hallway into the Avengers common area where Natasha sat, drinking her own coffee. Natasha laughed at your limp as you hobbled over to the kitchen

“Oh shut the fuck up”

—

hayyy sorry for not posting in foreverrrr but i got bombarded with school, work, and family issues, and i haven’t really had the time to write something (even something small) and i also have officially hit a good ‘ol writers block!! if you have any requests please lmk and i will write them!!!

[brabblesblog]

Sounds like a plan.

Drabble set right after act II’s confession scene. What if Tav didn’t feel quite alright with Astarion’s manipulation, and tried to just go along with it for his sake?

Angst with a happy ending. Also a tiny bit of Gale. Enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

He starts to notice when you stop smiling at him.

Oh, you'd smirk and laugh when talking to him, but that wasn't it - you just didn't smile.

That one he'd craved so much to see, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your nose flare a little. That smile. He hadn't seen it since the night he confessed his feelings to you.

He’d worry about it more, if you two didn’t spend every waking moment together. If you didn’t move into his tent. Didn’t cuddle with him every night, and woke up tangled in his arms every dawn.

So he put it aside for now. Your relationship was a new and fragile thing, and he dared not risk it.

That is, until he noticed you smiling like that with Gale. Astarion had just been walking back to camp from a hunt, when he had heard your voice and Gale’s and had inadvertently began to eavesdrop.

You had been sitting by the campfire with the wizard, reading one of those raunchy romance novels Shadowheart had given you. The two of you were huddled close together, knees touching, chortling and snorting as you read the passages aloud.

“I don’t think elves have… appendages of that size,” Gale remarks after a particularly salacious line. “Would they?” He shoots you a particularly nasty smirk.

You laugh, all pretense thrown aside. “I haven’t seen enough elf cock to know,” you mumble. “Or any other type of cock, for that matter.”

Gale chuckles. “You’ve been sleeping with one, have you not?” There is a small note of sadness in Gale’s voice when he says this, and you note it. You had turned the wizard down for Astarion.

The laugh that was about to come out of you dies at Gale’s words. You remember sleeping with Astarion, remember how your relationship started, how-

You shake your head, trying to clear out those thoughts. You want to just have fun right now, not think about your complicated situation. Gale notices, and he closes the spicy book. He looks to you, those large eyes holding nothing but affection and concern for you.

“Is something the matter? Anything you need, I’ll be there,” he reminds. He may not be your partner, but he’s still one of your closest friends in camp.

“Actually.” You weigh your options. No one seemed to be here at camp, and so you decide to confide in your friend. “Yes. There.. there is a problem. With.. with Astarion and I.”

Astarion initially rolls his eyes as he hears this conversation. It’s just banter, and he doesn’t mind. What made him stay there and listen in for a moment was the sound of your laughter. It was so genuine and he had not heard it in what felt like forever. He felt a pang of jealousy that of all people, Gale had been the one to bring it out of you. As he prepared to go back to your shared tent, he finally heard you mention his name. He froze, immediately rooted to the spot by fear. He had to know what was wrong. He had to fix it before you left him.

Gale puts a comforting hand on your knee. “Then I will lend you my ears. I shall keep your confidence.”

“It’s- it’s hard to explain,” you begin, speaking gently. “Does it make sense if I say I understand why he would do something he did, but it hurts anyways?”

“More than you know,” Gale replies somberly. “You understand their reasons. Sympathize, even. But you can’t help how you feel.” He pauses, considering it. “Does he know?”

“No.” You shake your head, answering without hesitation. “I didn’t want to give him more things to worry about. He..”

He already has too many things on his plate, you figured, and your petty little issues are nothing compared to what he’s going through.

Gale nods. “And you didn’t want to burden him. I understand.” He clears his throat. “I’m not a good choice for advice regarding relationships, however- it’s common knowledge that hiding things from each other so early on is a portent for disaster. I hope you know that.”

“I know, Gale,” you say, your tone sharpening. Then you let out a sigh, forcing yourself to calm down. “I just don’t want to hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt. I can’t hate him for what he did to me, but I want to hate him for how much it hurts.”

Your voice breaks at the last moment, and you bury yourself in Gale’s shoulder. He wraps a comforting arm around you, letting you finally let out those feelings you’ve been bottling in.

“I thought,” you gasp, “that he’d finally be the one person to actually want me for me.”

Astarion, hidden in the periphery of the camp, sees and hears everything. He keeps silent, as his own heart rips at the sound of your sobbing. Of course. How could he have been so blind? How could he have just assumed you were okay with what he did? After his confession, you had said everything was okay, and he had taken it at face value.

Gods damned it, Astarion thinks. As the conversation dies and you gradually shift to just sobbing into Gale’s shoulder, Astarion slips away.

You head back to your shared tent and hour or so later, opening the flaps. To your surprise, your lover sits there. He snaps upwards the moment your face pokes in, as if he had been waiting for just that exact moment.

“You’re back early,” you say, slipping in and closing the flap behind you. You drop to your knees and crawl towards the bedroll beside him, exhausted.

“Caught a boar quite early on. I daresay I got a bit lucky,” is the reply, delivered in a tone that just sounded off to your ears. He moves to wrap an arm around you, pulling you close to him. “And you, darling? Catching up with the wizard?” He tries to go for nonchalant, and absolutely fails it.

You notice it then, the way he’s actually not even breathing. The way his chest is stiff as a board, the way his fingers tremble.

“Astarion,” you squeeze your eyes shut. “You heard.”

“Every word,” he says, a pained sigh escaping his lips. His arm stops pulling you close. You turn to face him, and you see his face, more pained than you have ever seen him before. When he had confessed, he looked frightened. This time he looked resigned. You watch him clench his jaw, preparing to say the words he knew he should say.

Astarion takes a small, sharp breath. He meets your gaze.

“I hurt you.” The statement is quiet, emotionless. “You shouldn’t have told me you were okay, darling. You should have let me know.” His jaw works again, and he struggles to say the next words.

“I’ve put your things in your pack. You can leave whenever you wish.”

He tries not to cry. Not to beg for you to stay. Because you deserve to go. You deserve real, and if you can’t be real with him, then he isn’t the one who deserves you. Swallowing, his hand caresses your cheek. “I am sorry.”

Sorry he can’t give you what you deserve. Sorry he hurt you. Sorry he was what he was.

You sit up. You try to see what he’s thinking, to see if this relationship still had anything to salvage. But here in the dark, it’s very hard to tell. You brace yourself; the thing missing here was communication, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to do just that before it all blows up.

“Do you want this, Astarion? Us?”

A quick, quiet hiss of pain breaks the silence. His eyes brighten, filling up with tears. They don’t fall just yet.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

Your own shoulders drop, and you exhale.

“Then I’m going nowhere. But I suppose we should talk about what you overheard.”

He exhales, relief flooding his features. The guardedness isn’t quite gone yet, however. He makes no move to close the gap. Instead he sits up, matching your position.

“What else is there to say? I manipulated you. You felt a lot less gracious about it than you originally thought. Seems about the sum of it, no?”

There is a little defensiveness there. As if he’s already building walls in the event of your departure.

“Somewhat, but not quite.” You clear your throat. “I don’t blame you. I’m not upset at you. Or resentful. Or whatever else you think I am. Before anything else, I want you to know that.”

His eyes widen, surprised. He had overheard the conversation; he should have known this. But hearing it so directly said was different. You can see his shoulders sag as the tension leaves his body, as that terrible knot in his heart starts to loosen. He nods, acknowledging your statement and an encouragement to continue.

“I’m just hurt.” That was the root of all of it, really. “I’m hurt, but I didn’t want you to know. You already suffer so much, that it felt…” you trail off, trying to find the words.

“Frivolous, darling?” He suggests. As you nod he continues. “Just because I’m going through things doesn’t mean there’s no space… for your feelings,” he begins tentatively. He takes one more small breath, then reaches across to take your hand, just like he did that night he confessed.

“I’ve spent two hundred years carrying my own burdens. You have shared my load. Please. Let me lighten yours too.”

You scan his face, on instinct, trying to see any signs of insincerity. There is none. His eyes are round and open, and his hand remains on yours, palm up, an invitation for you to come to him.

You choke back tears, leaning forward to touch your foreheads together. “It’s just that I wished you were.. that we started differently. That you wanted me..”

“For you,” he says, repeating what you said to Gale. “I know. And I might not have, at the start. I might have seen you as a means to an end.”

He gathers his courage and moves to wrap his arms around you. “But now I do,” he whispers against your ear. “I want you for you.”

You melt into his arms then, moulding yourself to his torso as you cry yet again. But unlike your tears when talking to Gale, this feels like relief. Like home.

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You said you aren’t upset at all. But you can. We can..” he thinks for a moment, then proceeds. “We can take some time apart, if that’s what you want. We can take a step back and see if we can end up back here again.”

Saying that felt like torture for him. But he knew it needed to be said. You needed to have that option.

You shake your head. “No. I’m- I would very much rather be in this, whatever this is,” you say with a teary laugh. “But you’re right. I think I’ll still need some time to go through it and accept everything.”

“Just don’t forget, Astarion. It’s not your fault. It’s not,” you say vehemently. “I’m just hurt, but I’m not holding you responsible.”

He wants to protest, but knows better than to. Instead he nods. Carefully he cups your face in his hands, and you shiver as his cool palms make contact with your wet cheeks.

He kisses the tears away, each kiss a soft, feather-light brush against your skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. For your kindness. For your forgiveness and grace. For your love, although he couldn’t even use that word yet, even to himself. For the gift of yourself, always so generously given, from the very start.

He wishes he could someday live up to your love. That he would be worth everything you give him. He tries to voice this out.

“If you’re staying, then… it gives me a challenge, mm?” He tries to smile. “I’ll try to be worth the trouble. But no promises, darling.”

You huff out a laugh. This beautiful, strong, insufferable man. How could he think he wasn’t worth it to you? But you understood. You felt the same way.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say. “As for me, well. I don’t imagine I’ll ever be worth all that, either.”

“Then we’ll be worthless together,” he says without missing a beat. If you only knew how special he thought you were. How worthy. How you make him want to be better.

He presses his lips to yours, finally. Sealing your words together. A promise for you two to share each other’s burdens. Together.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree.

[noyasmashing]

Can I have more Yan Tamaki hcs? 🫠

Me and my husband were sticking together

• warnings: sub!yan! Tamaki x gn!reader, scent kink, soft yandere behavior, slight stalking, etc.

• authors note: HAII MILLY o(^ . ^)o I’m sorry for being so inactive!! Ive been traveling a lot more than I thought I would and I haven’t had much time to write :(( anyways yes yes here ya go!

Alright I’m just gunna say it. He has a scent kink. Especially the scent of your worn, sweat-drenched workout shorts, he can't help but be drawn to it. Painting an image of you sweaty, tired and yet oh so pretty in his mind. He's become so obsessed with the aroma that he's started to steal your clothes, to the point that you’ve begun to notice something is off.

Despite his shame and guilt over his actions, he's unable to resist the allure of your smell, which has become an intoxicating trigger for him. As a hero, he knows he should be above such base desires, but how can he help himself when he’s never experienced such intense emotions before? It’s not his fault your so attractive!!

Tamaki's arousal is amplified by the prospect of being caught in the act, whether it's pleasuring himself while smelling your clothes or being caught red-handed while stealing them. Despite his deep-seated shame and embarrassment over these desires, he's unable to suppress them, and they often find their way into his dreams.

In fact, the fantasy of being punished for his actions has become a recurring theme in his sleep. He loves the idea of being helpless under your control, with vibrators placed anywhere on him you pleased. His cock, prostate, nipples, he doesn’t care as long as your happy.

His deepest desire is to relinquish control and surrender to your will, allowing him to abandon all responsibility and simply obey without hesitation.

Despite being so pathetic, he has a strong desire to impress you. Being shy, he's not one for grand gestures, but he makes an effort to showcase his small accomplishments in the hopes you'll take notice. If you show more interest in Mirio than him, he'll become sulky and withdrawn. When you're near Mirio, he'll feel anxious and insecure. However, his demeanor changes instantly if you direct even a simple question or comment towards him - it's as if a weight lifts off his shoulders, and he's revitalized by your attention.

Tamaki has a tendency to become dramatically upset in your presence, often feigning hurt or distress in the hopes of gaining sympathy and affection from you. Solely to get a reaction from you, one that he can store away to fuel his late-night fantasies.

Despite his ardent desire to catch your attention, he finds himself tongue-tied and unable to articulate his feelings. When he tries to speak to you, his lower lip begins to tremble and his ears turn a bright red with embarrassment. His words get jumbled and tangled on his tongue, rendering him speechless. As a result, he usually resorts to simply nodding his head or muttering a few faint words.

Tamaki's naturally introverted nature often leads him to adopt a listening role, and he finds himself eavesdropping on your conversations out of a misplaced sense of duty. He rationalizes this behavior as a desire to "protect" and "keep you safe," but it's clear that his true motivation is to uncover more about you.

But that's not all - Tamaki is quite the photographer. He likely has an entire album dedicated to pictures of you on his phone, filled with videos and audio recordings of your laughter, conversations with him, and hell even just you talking to a friend. The poor boy would not be able to contain himself if you made a suggestive joke in his presence. Scurrying off to the nearest bathroom with a raging boner. That’s how bad his fascination with your voice is, and he can't help but replay it in his head, imagining all the intimate things you might say to him. He can get rather sloppy with trying to capture you, oblivious as ever. Let’s just hope you don’t catch him recording you, even with his clumsiness. Tamaki's enthusiasm can sometimes get the better of him, causing him to be reckless in his pursuit of capturing your perfection. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get caught by you, even with his clumsiness.

[wannabeschyulersister]

not a goodbye

“I think you should go to New York.”

Carmen had been staring at the huge whole on the side of the house for the last twenty minutes. The cold air rushing through didn’t phase him at all.

Your words did.

“What? Wh-what are you talking about?”

“I overheard your conversation with Michelle. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I was actually trying to avoid Fak. He was trying to talk to me about those damn baseball cards.” You stepped closer to Carmen and he grabbed your hand.

“I’m not going.” He simply said.

“Carmen, look around. This is chaos. Your future is so fucking bright but this-“ you waved your free hand around, “isn’t what’s good for you mentally. I love your family and I know that you do too but you have to put yourself first.”

Carmen was a stubborn man. After the fiasco that you both witnessed at dinner, you hoped that he would take up Michelle on her offer.

“I can’t put myself first. I need to be here for my mom and Sugar. Michael is just- he’s a mess. I can’t just leave everyone. I can’t leave you. I won’t- I won’t leave you. I need you.” Carmen felt like he was beginning to panic at the sheer thought of being away from you.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up faster. “Carmy, we wouldn’t be saying goodbye for long. I’m graduating in a few months. I’m sure there’s plenty of marketing agencies I can apply to work at in New York. And I can visit you as much as I can.”

Carmy shook his head stubbornly, “No, (Y/n). Didn’t you see what just happened here? I can’t leave them like this!”

“You can’t put the weight of the world on your shoulders,” you told him, hoping he would listen to your words, “You can’t fix everyone’s problems especially if they don’t want to help themselves.”

Carmen rested his forehead against your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you. He knew deep down you were right. In that moment, it all felt so overwhelming. His family was a disaster.

He didn’t want you to attend his family’s dinner tonight but he still invited you anyways. He knew how badly things could turn out to be but he selfishly wanted you there for support.

Carmen held your hand during dinner when everything went to hell. He honestly didn’t even know how he would’ve sat there and handled anything without you by his side.

You’d been around his family dozens of times. Sugar adored you. Michael made you feel welcomed as soon as he first met you. Donna was another story. You understood the situation and avoided her as much as you could. You were always respectful and spoke to her, but you didn’t go out of your way to strike a conversation. She had the ability to completely snap on someone and you didn’t want it to happen to you.

“You really think I should go?” He asked you softly.

“Yes, I do. I believe in your future. In our future. I know you’re going to do amazing things, Carmy.”

You felt him kiss your neck, “I love you.”

“And I love you. I know it’s going to be hard but we can make it.”

He nodded before kissing your lips, “We can make it.”

[anemonelovesfiction]

I Don’t Hate You

Ao’nung x Fem! Human! Reader

Warnings ⚠️ : Oral (fem receiving), cussing, MDNI 🔞

Thank you to whoever requested this, this is for you ❤️

I didn’t proof read as I am my own beta reader and I’m at work, sorry if its not too smutty for you, if it was actual smut it would have been too long!! As always English is stricken through

Translation Station

Tawtute: Sky Person (human)

Marui: Home (in Metkayina)

Ma’ite: my daughter

Innui- (ee-new-ee): made up name for Ronals youngest child

Tsahik: Spiritual healter; Shaman

Vrrtep: Demon

Sa’nok: Mother

Tsmuke: Sister

Iknimaya: Rite of Passage

Tsurak: Warriors mount

Syulang: Flower

Tewng: Loincloth

Word count 2.8k

I was only acting in the way everyone else had expected me to. Given the predicament I was in- a tawtute won the hearts of not one but both my parents, leading to a ritual in which the three of them were mated- I would say what I had currently just said to my newest sibling was up to par with what anyone else in the village believed I would say. Something hurtful about her extra digit, something about her looks, something about her size, how much of an inconvenience she was; and I’d said all of them. She was a shy thing and often spoke to Tsireya in a hushed voice, my sister had welcomed her and her mother in with open arms, but I was yet to be won over, but I was truly happy for my parents for having found their missing piece, I just wish she weren’t a tawtute, or that her daughter was unbelievably beautiful.

Her lips thin in an attempt to stop herself from crying but the fat tears in her eyes were a dead giveaway that what I had said had hurt her, and even though this was the last thing I wanted to do to the beauty that stood before me, I knew it was expected of me to hate her, so I acted like I did. My ears flicker and become downcast as I hear her sniffle, once more attempting to keep in her tears before they spilt on her cheeks, and she managed to look as beautiful as the day I first saw her.

Without another word she turns briskly and starts running in the direction she had come from, my heart hurts as I notice she picks up her hand to wipe what I assume are her tears, her sniffle causing my ears to perk up in an attempt to continue listening to her, I sigh. I want to chase after her and apologize but there were people watching.

_________

“Thats why I don’t talk to him, mama, I can’t keep-“ I stop as soon as the marui pod’s curtain was drawn back and Ronal -my stepmother- walks in, I don’t bother continuing the conversation and force myself to look away from her stare, one look and I’m sure I’d spill everything I’d just told my mom.

I make an effort to speak in English to my mom in order to prevent anyone from eavesdropping, but she had started teaching Ronal and Tonowari the language so they understand what the humans who drop supplies off say and they’re picking up on it very well. I’m starting to feel as though no one is on my side anymore.

“Ma’ite-“ She coos as she runs her thumb on my cheek gently, I only pout at her response, knowing she’d switched to Na’Vi so Ronal would understand clearly.

“What is wrong, you look bothered, are the village boys being mean to you again?” Ronal asks as she settles the newest addition to the family down, I only avoid my mothers gaze and watch as the baby starts crawling around curiously checking everything out before smiling widely and crawling faster toward where my mother and I stood. She worked quickly to make her way toward me and wobbly stood herself by using my thighs as support, she reached the length of my mid thigh in full height and she was only nine months old.

“Forget it.” I mumble before gently shifting Innui to support herself on my mother, making sure she was stable before walking out of the marui without sparing a glance toward the tsahik.

I don’t bother lifting my head off the knitted walkway as I’ve slipped on it and ended up with one foot through the hole one too many times, a bad habit I’d created as I walked on the beach, looking at the sand seep through my toes with every step I took, not bothering to check my surroundings. Although if I’m honest I would have thought that I wouldn’t be bothered since it was almost dinner time and a majority of people were starting to wash up to prepare food.

“Hey little freak, what are you doing out here alone?” My back stiffens and my head is immediately snapping up at the sound of his voice, a shiver runs through my body as I slowly turn my head and coming face to face with one of Ao’nungs lacky’s, the one I stupidly mistaken for Rotxo when I first met him, but he was so unoriginal I didn’t bother learning his name.

“I’m not a freak.” I responded while still keeping my back to him.

“I’m sure your fourth finger would beg to differ, you’re so weird, yet so interesting.” He stated clearly and I could feel my face growing hot at his words. He always has to find a way to torment me and I thought I’d escaped it until tomorrow but I was wrong. I could feel my body tensing in anger and I’d rather not blow up and give him another reason to hate me, so I turn around to finally face him.

“Four fingers or not-“ I lifted my hand to show him my fingers and wiggling them for added effect “-I am not weird.” I managed to get through without stuttering.

“With the way you act I’d think the reason you torment me is because you like me.” I roll my eyes as I cross my hands at my chest and notice his hairless brows furrowing, giving me an angered expression, he sneers and gets close to my face, causing me to back up.

“I would never like someone as worthless and useless as you. Get that through your thick tawtute head, you are undesirable and it is unclear how your vrrtep sa’nok managed to sneak her way into our clan leaders home.” He places a finger on my chest and pushes me rather harshly, causing me to fall on my bum.

“What is going on.” An angered voice spoke from behind me, the unmistakable sound of my step-brothers voice ringing through the air, I furrow my brows in confusion before turning to look at him, seeing the water droplets falling from his skin and hair, he must have gone for a swim before dinner.

“Your vrrtep tsmuke was mouthing off to me-“ He begins with his lies to justify why he’d pushed me but I scoff at his words before feeling Ao’nung reaching down to lift me up, I’d never felt his skin before and even though he’d just stepped out of the water it was warm.

“She is not a vrrtep, she is family, you do not go around pushing Tsireya like this, do you?” Ao’nung is quick with his words and doesn’t let his act of lifting me up deter his staring contest with Great Value Rotxo- Rotxo from wish? I try not to giggle at my thoughts.

“I am only treating her how you do. Is it only okay for you?” He asks with a slight snarl.

“Leave her alone.” He stated in an authoritative voice and my knees almost buck, he almost sounded like his father, I would be lying if I didn’t find my step father attractive, but I couldn’t bring myself to think of him that way.

Wish Rotxo shifts his eyes down to my blank expression, before they dart up above my head at what I could only assume was my step-brother, his face showing annoyance and anger before turning around and walking away without another word.

“Stop getting into trouble, you always need my help-“

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t ask for your help, you just came up here flaunting your-“ I stop myself as he looks at me the way his mother stared at mine after yelling in English, understanding of the action but not the language. I roll my eyes and squeeze them shut before taking a calming breath, letting a sigh roll off my body as I pinched the bridge of my nose, and looking up at my step brother.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” I stated in Na’Vi “I had the situation under control.”

“That is what you call ‘under control’, getting harassed by a man and being pushed by the mere strength of his finger?” He scoffs as he crosses his arms.

“How is that any different than what you do? You hate me just as much as he does. I didn’t know you wanted to be the only one who tortures me.” I roll my eyes and deliver the same amount of sass back to him.

“I don’t hate you.” He stares directly through my soul as he says these words and a shiver runs up my spine.

“You only say the mean things you’ve said to me if you hate someone, so do not lie to me and pretend you don’t-“

“I do not hate you.” He moved closer in a matter of a millisecond, his face close enough to touch mine, but he’s being serious.

“Ao’nung, stop lying, you don’t treat Tsireya the way you treat me.” I huff and cross my arms once more.

“Thats because I’m not in love with her.” He stated matter-of-factly and I open my mouth to yell at him for how he’s treated me some more but the sudden confession hits me like a ton of bricks.

“You-“ I stare at him as he nods slightly “-Me?” I ask as I point to myself and see him nod once more.

“But I-“ I stop as I attempt to analyze the situation.

“-and you!” I use my hand to signal to him and stop from speaking once more, lowering myself to the sand as I attempt to process it, yet am unable to. I can see he’s also sunken down to squat near me, paying close attention to me.

“Why?” I finally ask. His hand reached out to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Because of who you are.” He shrugs.

“You’re kind to everyone in my family even when I wasn’t kind to you. You’re quick to learn a lot of things especially when it came to helping our parents spend some tome together by taking care of Innui. You’re adorable when you hold my baby sister in your tiny hands, especially when you make that face.” He points at me as I listen to him.

“Oh I get it, this is a joke.” I slap his finger away with the back of my hand and start to laugh.

_________

Her head tilted back and the melodious sound of her laughter made me angry at first, but the angle at which she held her head was perfect in showcasing the tattoo on her neck, the design she’s carefully chosen after passing her iknimaya- even as a tawtute she managed to bond with a tsurak, making me hopeful in her ability to bond with a mate. And not just any mate, me.

Some feeling must have overtaken me as my fingertips dance around the flesh of her neck, following the tattoo down toward her collar bones where they stop, her laughter had died down as soon as I’d touched her and my ears perk up at the slightest gasp mixed with a moan, my eyes darken as she backs up quickly, my first instinct was to grasp her by her neck, scooting closer to her.

“What are you-“

“Shh,” I shush her as my other hand carefully slides down the length of her arm and allowing myself to divulge in the smooth feeling of her soft skin. I finally take her small hand in mind and gently bring it up to my lips, eyes staring at hers, and kissing her knuckles gently.

“I. Do. Not. Hate. You.” I enunciate my words while using my thumb to caress the tattoo on her neck.

“Okay,” she mutters breathily, seemingly in a daze.

“Do you believe me now?” I ask as I get close to her face and watch her dazed stare, I can feel her breath quicken and grow heavier, her mouth slightly agape.

“Please-“ she stops herself from speaking and y hand instinctively presses on her neck, urging the words to slip out of them.

“Tell me syulang, please what?”

“Kiss me,” her eyes only focus on mine as I lean in and touch my lips toward hers, her the softness of her mouth on my lips had me feeling as if Eywa had taken me up to live with her, my entire being felt complete with this little tawtute.

I push my knees on the sand below, letting go of her neck and allowing my hand to wanter up her delicate cheek, my other hand pulling her waist closer toward me.

She nips at my lower lip and I back off immediately, wondering if the reason for her doing that was because I’d somehow been too rough or hurt her in any way, just to see her smiling shyly instead. Reaching her hands out to grasp my face, pulling me closer and looking into my eyes before leaning in and kissing me again.

I run my fingers along the rest of her body just wanting to feel all of her, feeling how her skin raises under my fingers and prickling a bit, making an effort to run my hands against her back and feeling her wriggle in my grasp.

“Fuck,” The foreign word escapes her mouth, drunk off her scent I continue kissing down her neck where her tattoo sat and hearing her beautiful moans.

“Wait, ‘Nung-“ She gasps as I gently nip at the skin on her neck and shivers at the feeling.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask in a serious tone.

“N-no,” She murmurs.

“Then why wait?” I ask as my arm snakes around her waist again.

“The water-“ She turns her head to point at the tide and I feel the heat rise up in my chest. Whenever we choose to mate we usually do so in the water, and the fact that she remembered that made me feel happy, this was definitely the woman I wanted to mate with.

“Come.” I stand and gently tug on her arm as I walk toward the water.

_________

My tewng was pushed to the side, his mouth was working on my pussy, his tongue swished along the side of my clit, his hands were playing with my nipples, and my back was up against the rock of the retaining wall. I was furiously bucking my hips and attempting to keep my moans to a minimum in case other Na’Vi were nearby.

I could see the cook fires in the distance but they didn’t matter when my pussy was being devoured skillfully by the man who tore up my feelings, now he’s just tearing me up, and I loved it. I squeeze my thighs around his head as his tongue slides against a particularly sensitive area pf my clit, making me his tongue continue to slide over that same area, my nipples are being squeezed and I can feel myself losing control.

“I’m coming, ‘Nung-“ I gasp as I let go, the explosive feeling making my hips buck on their own accord and the waves of the ocean lapping up over my already sensitive stiffened nipples added another sense of euphoria. His hands had abandoned them and taken place to hold my thighs close to him as I came down from my high until I went lax in his hold.

He pops his head out from under the water with a smirk on his face, his first breath in wasn’t even that deep and made my cheeks sting at his previous words before he’d sunken under.

“Let me show you just how long I can hold my breath,”

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” I roll my eyes tiredly, I was just happy I’d already given him a hand job and half a blowjob before he’d gone down on me.

“I’m good.” He doesn’t even bother making it sound like a question at this point.

“Practice makes perfect I guess.” I joke and he can tell my underlying comment meant I knew he’d done this with other girls before.

“Yet none have ever tasted as sweet as you, syulang.”

“Sure,” I mumble as I reach over to grab my top, expertly putting it on my body in a quick fashion.

“Are you upset with me?” He asks as he places a gentle hand on my arm.

“No you big doofus, we need to go to dinner before ur parents think we’re out murdering each other,” I laugh lightly and his smile returns.

“I like seeing your smile.” I mutter almost too quiet, but his ears flicker when I say that, his cheeks turning a purplish color.

“I like seeing you.” He smiles sheepishly, something I’d never see him do before.

“I see you,” I mutter.

“I see you as well.”

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 21

summary: You often find yourself within earshot of Lori and Shane’s whispered arguments, and this time, when Shane catches you listening, you stand your ground. But you're quickly distracted by a disturbance coming from the woods that leads to Shane's ever more rising fury. In a flashback, your mind is clouded with thoughts about the past, just as troubling news of a rapidly spreading virus reaches your ears.

no serious warning apply, but more walker deaths in this chapter, gunfire, high emotions

x flash forward x

The rest of the afternoon remains quiet, the kind of silence that should bring some peace, but lately, it feels heavy. After the discovery of the barn full of walkers, there’s a quiet tenseness as people go about the rest of the day. You try to keep busy, your hands moving on autopilot as you fold laundry or clean up near the Greene house after your barn chores.  Anything to keep your mind off the tension bubbling under the surface. The camp, the farm—everything feels like it's holding its breath. 

From where you are, you can see Shane and Lori near the house again, talking in those low, hushed tones that have become all too familiar. You sigh. Here we go again. It feels like it’s always something with those two. You don’t want to eavesdrop, but their voices carry, and like a bad habit, you can’t help but overhear snippets of their conversations.

"Shane, you can’t just—"

"I’m not sayin’ you have to decide right now, but you have to think about it, Lori," Shane’s voice cuts through the air, sharp but low.

You roll your eyes, shifting your attention back to your task. You’re sick of their drama. It seems like the world could be burning down, but Shane and Lori would still find time to argue about... whatever it is they always argue about. But then a word catches your ear, freezes your movements.

“Baby.”

Your hands still, the pile of laundry forgotten as you listen closer. Did you hear that right? Another phrase sticks out next.

“It’s mine, Lori, you know it’s mine. It’s why you didn’t tell ‘im.”

What?

You feel a sinking sensation in your gut as the conversation continues. You knew there was something with them–that they potentially hooked up before Rick came back ‘from the dead’ as they always said. But jesus christ, this cemented the fact that they fucked numerous times. Your insides twisted at the thought. Had Shane had feelings for Lori before the world went to hell? While you were with him? Was this purely because the stress they went through on top of the fact her husband--his best friend--was dead?

Shane’s voice is intense, harder now, cutting through the still air around the house. 

“You’re pregnant, Lori. What, you really think Rick’s gonna keep you and that baby safe out here? And Carl?”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You shouldn’t be listening, but you can’t stop. They’re not talking about anything small anymore. This is big. This is huge .

But Shane doesn’t let her finish. “He ain’t made for this world, Lori. You know it. I know it. Hell, everyone knows it,”

Lori’s voice trembles. “You’re wrong—”

You hear Lori trying to explain at the fish fry, back before the CDC, Rick saving her and everyone else. The attack on the camp you joined them at. But that wasn’t quite right either, you were all there, vulnerable without half the man power of the group.

“He left us to go save a drug dealer!” Shane interjects.

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Your blood runs cold. Merle. You know Shane’s talking about Merle. Even with all his flaws, Merle had been like a brother to you, and hearing Shane dismiss him like that is enough to make your skin crawl. The ache of loss is still raw, but the anger is louder.

Your heart races as Shane’s voice rises again, but before you can process everything, you hear footsteps, and Shane is stalking off—towards you. His eyes catch yours as he moves away from Lori, his expression dark and frustrated. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you sitting there.

You don’t back down. You look right back into the eyes that are boring into you, but you hold your ground, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Shane takes a step closer, a sneer curling on his lips. "What’s the matter? Didn’t hear enough? Or were you just eavesdroppin’ again?" His voice is full of venom, smug, daring you to challenge him.

 You refuse to let him intimidate you, "You don’t need to talk so loud if you don’t want people to hear your dirty laundry,” you snip at him, snapping a shirt out to straighten it before folding.

Shane’s smirk deepens, but there’s something darker behind it now. “Funny. Last I checked, you didn’t mind sharin’ some secrets with me either,” he says, his tone full of implication. There’s no flirtation here, but the reminder of your past relationship hangs between you, and he’s using it against you again and again.

Your jaw clenches, but you keep your voice steady. “That was a long time ago, Shane. Don’t think for a second you get to use that against me. You and Lori have got to stop this bullshit. You’re always actin’ so weird with her. So what, you hook up a couple times in the woods and suddenly she belongs to you? Her husband is here. If she’s pregnant, it’s his. End of.”

His eyes narrow as he steps closer, invading your space, towering over you. “You think you got it all figured out now, don’t you? That you can run your mouth about stuff you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” you fire back, your voice low but firm. “I know about the threats. About Daryl. You don’t get to act like you own people, Shane—not me, not Lori, and sure as hell not Daryl.”

For a moment, Shane looks genuinely caught off guard. His head cocks to the side slightly, like he is thinking hard, but it’s brief, and his eyes cloud with anger again. He steps even closer, practically breathing down your neck, his tone dropping into something colder, more dangerous. “You don’t know shit about what I did. But you’d better watch your step, Y/N. I was tryna to keep you safe, still am dammit. Tryna keep everyone safe .”

“By threatening him?” you bite out. “You think that made me feel safe? Telling Lori her husband is no good? All you do is push people around when things don’t go your way.”

His face hardens, and for a second, you can see the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don’t push people around for no reason,” he says through clenched teeth. “I do what needs to be done.”

You meet his eyes, unflinching. You stand, your face filling with heat, “You threatened him because you were scared. You couldn’t handle the idea that someone else might have my back. Someone who actually gave a shit about me. And now Lori doesn’t need you anymore, so you try to control her more and more."

Shane’s lips curl into an ugly sneer. “You got no idea what you're talkin' about, girl,"

Before you can retort, your lip curling, your eyes shift to behind him, at the edge of the woods where your eyes catch some sort of movement. Although the sun beats down with afternoon light, a chill runs down your spine.

It’s a walker—on a stick. The damn thing is still snarling, flailing as it’s dragged it along, the most insane spectacle you’ve ever seen. You blink, trying to make sense of it all. It’s Rick and Hershel with two walkers on the kind of long sticks you recognize from when you used to work at the dog shelter. The ones animal control would use on aggressive dogs to keep them at a distance. Jimmy is leading them along in the front.

Shane notices your demeanor change, your eyes going wide, and he turns to the sight. You can now hear the rattling breath and snarls of both walkers as they are led along to the old barn. You can almost see the boiling rage beneath his skin as Shane takes in the sight.

“What is that? What the hell is THAT?” His voice is low and seething, and suddenly he’s off, sprinting toward them. You barely register it before the rest of the group is moving too, guns in hand, everyone drawn by the sound of Shane’s fury. When were you allowed to have guns again? You catch Daryl’s eye as he rounds the corner too, and you both start running along with the rest of them.

“Why do your people have guns?” Hershel exclaims as you’re approaching. Your eyes are wide as you take in the scene up close. Rick’s knuckles are white as he pushes the walker along, his face in a snarl. By the time you catch up, Shane is standing in front of Hershel, his chest heaving with anger. “You see what they’re holding onto?” Shane's voice drips with disbelief, his finger jabbing toward the walker still thrashing on the end of Rick's pole.

Hershel’s face is grim, his grip on the pole tight, attached to another walker, as he struggles to keep the creature at bay. “I see who I’m holding onto,” he snaps, straining to guide the thing towards the barn.

“No, man. You don’t.” Shane’s voice rises again, his fury barely contained. The group stands in stunned silence, unable to tear their eyes away from the chaos unfolding in front of them. Shane continues, “These things ain’t sick, they ain’t people! They’re DEAD.”

The movement of the walkers and Rick and Hershel trying to hold on is overwhelming, dust is being kicked into the air as the undead swing their arms toward the group standing around. Dust whips into the air, swirling around the frenzied scene. Daryl raises his rifle next to you, his eyes fixed on the walkers, the barrel of the gun steady as he prepares to fire if need be.

“Hey, Hershel, let me ask you somethin’,” Shane’s voice is cutting, his eyes dark as he rounds in front of them. “Could a living, breathing person—could they walk away from this?” In one swift motion, Shane pulls his gun from his waistband, cocks it, and fires two rounds into the walker’s chest. Blood splatters, the thing flinches back from impact, but straightens up again even more riled up. Your body is tense, ready to act. Every muscle is coiled tight with the fear and adrenaline pumping through you.

Rick yells, trying to get him to stop, but it's no use. Shane just keeps going. The afternoon of frustration and rage is all boiling over out of him now.

The group flinches at the gunshots, but Glenn and Daryl still have guns raised high. You take one from Carol who holds hers down, like she's afraid to use it. She willingly gives it to you, and you hold it high to the riled walking corpse, ready to fire if need be. 

“That’s three rounds in the chest,” Shane says forcefully, “could someone who’s alive, could they just take that?! WHY IS IT STILL COMIN?” Shane’s voice cracks as he fires again, his frustration pouring out with each gunshot. Rick is shouting, telling him to stop, but Shane is far beyond reason now. You can feel the tension in the air—thick, suffocating—your grip tightening on your rifle as you keep your eyes locked on the walkers, their dead eyes wild with hunger.

“SHANE, ENOUGH!” Rick screams.

“Yeah, you’re right, man. That is enough,” Shane mutters, voice hardening, before taking a final step forward. His eyes gleam with an almost dangerous clarity as he raises his gun one last time. The shot echoes in the air, and the walker’s head snaps back, crumpling lifeless to the ground. Blood pools beneath it, soaking into the earth like a final insult to Hershel’s desperate attempts to preserve the living. Everyone watches in stunned silence as the creature finally stops moving. Hershel’s grip on the pole falters as he falls to his knees, face pale with disbelief and anguish etched into his features. You glance at him briefly, and your stomach twists with sympathy—the weight of his loss, his denial about what the world had become, was breaking apart before your eyes. But Shane, relentless, isn’t finished.

“Enough risking our lives for a little girl who’s GONE!” Shane’s voice, hoarse with fury, pierces the stillness. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Carol’s face crumples, her tears flowing freely as the reality of his words twist the knife deeper.

“ENOUGH living next to a barn full of things that are tryin’ to kill us!” Shane’s anger propels him forward, his feet pounding the ground as he rushes toward the barn door. You feel your own heartbeat quicken as you realize what he’s about to do.

“Shane, no!” You find your voice, but it’s drowned out by the chaos. Shane grabs a nearby garden hoe, smashing it against the chain keeping the barn doors locked. Rick is yelling at him, pleading for him to stop, his voice ragged with desperation, but it’s too late. 

With a final strike, the lock breaks open.

For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your pounding heart and the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then, the first walker stumbles out, dragging its rotting feet through the dirt. Its dead eyes fix on the group, snarling as it lurches toward you.

Shane doesn’t hesitate. He raises his gun, firing round after round into the advancing walkers. The group erupts into chaos—Glenn, T-Dog, Andrea, everyone is firing off guns in every direction. The sharp, deafening sound of gunfire fills the air, mingling with the guttural growls of the walkers.

You pull the trigger, the recoil slamming into your shoulder as you take down one walker after another. Each shot is like a weight lifting from your chest, but the horror of the moment presses down on you harder than ever. These walkers—these monsters—they were once people. Hershel’s family. And now they’re being gunned down like animals.

Your breath comes in ragged bursts as you keep firing, your mind racing. This wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what anyone wanted.

To your left, you see Daryl, his face set in a grim expression, his rifle steady as he takes down walker after walker with precision. Sweat drips down his brow, but his eyes are locked onto the task, focused. He’s always focused. You glance at him briefly, drawing strength from his presence.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the shooting stops. The air is thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood. The ground is littered with bodies. The only sounds are the heavy breathing of the people around you, breathless from the scene.

There’s a soft, low snarling coming from the barn now. The shadows begin to move behind the door, and you don’t take your eyes off the wooden barn entrance. Everyone is looking around at the massacre, but you don’t shift your position. A small, thin leg comes out wearing a girl’s sneaker. As you aim for the forehead–

You lower your gun, your breath getting stuck in your throat. You feel your windpipe closing from pure horror. The little girl walks out, dirty and decomposing. Her short strawberry blonde hair is matted and tinged with dirt now. Her face is blue, lifeless, except for the furrowed brows and lip pulled back in a growl.

Sophia.

Carol’s scream shatters the air. She breaks from the group, running toward her daughter, tears streaming down her face. But before she can reach Sophia, Daryl is there, grabbing her around the waist, pulling her back. They collapse to the ground together, Carol sobbing into his chest, while he holds her tight, his own face twisted in grief.

Your knees buckle, and you sink to the ground, unable to tear your eyes away from the little girl who had once been full of life, now nothing more than a shell. Your hands come up to your face, watching through your fingers. The rifle you were holding goes clattering to the ground.

The others are silent. Everyone is frozen in shock, watching as Sophia stumbles closer, her growls growing louder.

Rick steps forward, his face pale, his eyes full of unspeakable sorrow. His gun trembles slightly in his hand, but he steadies it, raising it toward the little girl. He hesitates for a long moment, his finger hovering over the trigger as he looks into her lifeless eyes. Then, brows furrowed in concentration, he pulls the trigger.

The gunshot echoes through the air, and Sophia crumples to the ground, lifeless.

The silence that follows is deafening. There are no words—just the soft wind rustling the trees and the quiet sound of Carol’s sobs.

x flashback x

You were sitting in the empty campus library one late afternoon, the pale light from early autumn casting long shadows across the rows of books. The sound of soft classical music filtered through the air, coming from an old radio tucked behind the checkout desk. But it wasn’t the music that caught your attention. The dial is behind turned as it switches to a news station.

“…the virus is spreading faster than anticipated, with reports now coming from neighboring countries. Officials are urging caution but insist there is no need for panic at this time. The CDC has released a statement—”

Your fingers froze over the keys of your laptop, the word "virus" sparking a discomfort you couldn’t quite explain. The reporter’s calm voice blended with the hum of the old AC unit, but the words sank in deeper than they should. "Epidemic," "spread," "caution"—words you should have brushed off, but instead, they stuck. Your hands faltered over your half-written essay, and the gnawing feeling in your gut grew as the monotony of life around you continued without a hitch.

It was only the beginning of your sophomore year, but you already felt like you were moving through a fog. The truth was, your mind had been anywhere but on classes.

Daryl.

You’d been thinking about him too much lately—his absence felt more like a bruise than it ever had before. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t calling, texting, or reaching out. It was that the last time you saw him, everything had gone wrong. The memory of that fight, of his fists flying into the faces of Merle’s friends while you sat frozen in shock, replayed in your head like a broken record. Why had it escalated so quickly? Why had Daryl looked so furious, so confused, when he saw you there? It was almost as if he couldn’t believe you were mixed up in that situation. You were grateful he came in when he did, but the way he reacted so violently had taken you by surprise. You weren't even expecting to see him. Although, and you'd never admit it, you were hoping to. Always hoping to.

You replayed the sound of him storming out of that house over and over again in your head. He didn’t even stop to check if you were okay—just left you sitting there with your heart in your throat, staring at the blood on the faces of the two guys, stains of it on the walls and carpet. And you couldn’t understand why. What had he seen that made him so volatile? Why could he barely look at you?

You didn’t even notice that your knee was bouncing under the desk, your nerves manifesting in small, jittery movements.

You saw the librarian at the front desk messing with the radio dials, stations going in and out. The news broadcast switched to static for a second and cut to an old classic rock station, the familiar notes of a guitar riff easing some of the tension in your shoulders. But not enough.

It felt like the world was tipping on its axis. Maybe it was just the stress of school, or maybe it was the unresolved tension that had been hanging between you and Daryl since that night. Honestly, since the night you left freshman year. You always knew he didn’t approve of Shane, but the way things ended up, you couldn’t believe that was the only reason he was avoiding you. Was he tired of you always coming to him with your issues? Maybe he’d had enough of the drama in your life, or found a girlfriend. Your stomach panged at the thought of him with a girl–the fact he wouldn’t want to tell you. The radio crackled again, another news update slipping through, but this time, it was drowned out by your own thoughts.

You wondered what would happen if you tried to reach out to him again. Would it be the same silence? The same avoidance? You almost pulled out your phone to text him, but something held you back. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was fear that things really were different now. Or maybe it was that nagging feeling in your gut that told you Daryl didn’t want to be found, not by you—not by anyone.

And just like that, the weirdness of it all settled into your bones. The quiet campus, the unsettling radio broadcasts about this strange virus, the thick cloud of confusion surrounding Daryl and what happened back home—it all felt like the calm before a storm you couldn’t quite name yet.

You tried to focus on your assignment, but all you could think about was how everything felt like it was unraveling, slowly but surely. 

[mtr1234]

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

Disclaimer:

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kennysboxergf]

Babysitting

Ranking the Beta Squad + Sidemen based on how much I would need to be paid to babysit them as children

Kenny - €2.50/hour

THE NICEST

Just look at him he can do no harm

A very energetic child tho, running around and not going to sleep

But I think I could distract him easily by just putting on blues clues

Love love he’s adorable

Chunkz (+ bonus Darkest) - €9.50/hour

Look very nice a respectful 

Will be nice

But only when parents are around

As soon as they leave I’m getting flamed like a highschooler

And getting pranked every 20 minutes 

But they look like they’ll listen if I say something 

And they’re gonna be funny so it’s all good 

AJ Shabeel - €11.50/hour

look at him

He’s going to jump on me as soon as he gets the chance

A biter and a kicker

But he looks like he’s be sweet if he calmed down

He’s the kid the parents tell you not to give sugar to

Couch jumper

Sharky - free/hour

this baby is the best baby I’ve ever seen

V Well behaved

Stomps his foot ok the floor when he’s mad but that’s it

I would look after him for free

He doesn’t even look like a messy eater

Respectful I love him

Niko - €19/hour

you would have to payyy go get me go babysit this child

He seems so hyperactive

Would not could not sit still

Asks me for candy before dinner and ice-cream before bed

If I say no I get like a bucket of water poured on me when I walk into a room

Prank MASTER

Absolutely adorable but no thank you

Vik - €6.50/hour

very nice and respectful

Asks BARE questions tho

He would tell me about all of his school project and how me the awards he’s won for them

Would watch a documentary for fun

But he looks nice enough and I would love to pet his duck

Harry - €17.50/hour

chaotic if he wishes to be

But he also looks like he can like pick an activity and stick to it

But still he can bitee 

Ankle biter kid

And he will Not eat anything Green

Or mildly healthy

Even though his parents explicitly told me not to give him sugar he somehow finds it and annoys you all day

Sugar Crashes and finally sleeps

JJ - €8.50/hour

looks nice enough 

Might come at me with all his high and mighty private school attitude 

But I think he’s pretty chill

And he’ll eat whatver his mom left for him

Calm I would say, average

Ethan - €7.50/hour

again looks nice

He seems like a very outdoorsy kid and I am not an outdoorsy person so it would not mix

Probably just watches tv all day

Have a feeling he’ll refuse to put on his clothes

Ankle kicker

Would kick me in the shins and I would cry but then he’s apologise and sit on the couch playing so it’s ok

Will not sleep on time tho that is a STRUGGLE

Josh - €4.50/hour

this boy cannot get up to trouble

Probably sits with his back straight

His smile is adorable 

Corrects ME about facts or smthing

Would ask me to read him a book as a goodnight

Sleeps at a reasonable time without a reminder

<3

Simon - €7.50/hour

would give me the DIRTIEST of looks

All the time 

One of the kids that eavesdrop on ur conversations

Doesn’t strike me as a TV kids would wanna go play with kids in the park 

Biter, bites other kids, me if I piss him off

Overall nice tho, he would give me his “dish” made of playdough

Tobi - :)/hour

I accept one smile from his per hour as payment

Seems like the happiest child ever

But I think if he was in a mood he would be the worst kid every I wouldn’t not want to be near him

Walks around stomping with his arms crossed and wrecks his room apart I would say

So acc like €5.50/hour 

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 49: Strain Your Memory

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, mdni. Brief allusion to history of SA, forced restraint See AO3 for other chapter-specific warnings.

“Astarion…hey.”

Wyll is nudging his shoulder when he wakes from his trance, still slumped against the wall by the stairs. Gale lingers on the top step,  holding a tray full of breakfast, presumably for Celeste.

“I didn’t even think, Astarion,” the wizard says sympathetically, “You would have been more than welcome on the couch or...”

He shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. He feels weary, hollow. 

“I’ve tranced in worse places. How is she?”

“I’m about to find out.” Gale says.

“Do try to keep your hands and mouths to yourselves,” Astarion grumbles. “Without her memories, she seems to have resorted to seduction.”

“So let me get this straight, because the Sharrans seem to only have tampered with recent history in her mind, she still remembers you from when you were younger?” Wyll asks Gale.  

“Lucky, isn’t he?” Astarion doesn’t hate Gale for it, not really, but Celeste’s hostility towards him the previous evening had taken its toll. He crosses his arms and leans back against the banister.

“We’ll get her back.” Gale assures him, before disappearing inside the room.

Astarion purses his lips and nods, the wizard’s hope barely penetrating in his pessimism.

“This must be hard for you…” Wyll begins. 

“I’ll manage.” Astarion snaps, before pressing his ear to the bedroom door, listening for snippets of conversation, but it’s difficult to make anything out without vampiric hearing. 

“Gale! Praise the gods. Please, let me out.” 

“Celeste.” Gale’s voice is stern but gentle. “I can’t do that.”

“I won’t hurt you - I won’t hurt any of you. Just let me go. Let me return to Lady Shar in peace.”

“There’s a lot you don’t remember.” Gale says. “And even more memories Shar has altered..what do you remember of your parents?”

“They were killed by rogue Sharrans, because my father betrayed our goddess.” She says. “It was terrible, but he should have known better…”

“And you blame him for what happened?”

“Of course. If he’d never turned his back on the Dark Lady, but…I think he was sick. Selûne poisoned him against Shar. And my mother…perhaps if my father had more time to convince her of Shar’s wisdom…”

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in disgust. This isn’t her. He can hear it in her voice, the cold, fanatic devotion that he knows is not her own.

“You have Selûnite blood.” Gale says. “Why are you so quick to claim Shar as your goddess?”

Thank the gods for his endless patience, Astarion thinks to himself. 

Celeste pauses, seemingly deep in thought.

“She saved me. When the Harper’s abandoned me, Keresta and the Sharrans gave me a place to stay. Helped me go to university, kept me hidden from Selûnites…” she wrinkles her nose “until Selûne sent that vampire to test my faith.”

Astarion frowns, and Wyll joins him to eavesdrop. 

Gale laughs. “He wasn’t sent by Selûne, Celeste. I promise you. If you had your memories, you’d realize how preposterous that statement is.”

“He turned on Keresta, you know. He came to us and I believed him and he turned on her!” Celeste says. “I won’t make that mistake again.

Astarion winces on the other side of the door, not liking where this is going.

“Celeste, he went to Keresta to save you. How can you think Astarion had bad intentions? Keresta tied you in a cellar! He freed you.”

“Is that any different from what you’re doing to me now?” She asks, “Gale, you could free me. I know you’re with that cleric, but…maybe we can convince her to reject Selûne, too. Return to the Dark Lady. That tiefling too…”

“I need you to drink this, Celeste. It will inhibit your powers for some time, but I’ll at least be able to untie you so you can be more comfortable.” Gale says, effectively silencing her fanatical ranting.

“If it will earn me freedom from this chair...” she consents. “You will release me from this room eventually, right?”

“Yes.” Astarion can hear the lie in Gale’s voice.

There’s a brief sound of shuffling and cutting of rope. Astarion presses his ear closer to the door, trying to hear anything else, as Gale pulls it open, his eyebrows raised in surprise as Astarion and Wyll pitch forward into him. Behind the wizard, Celeste rubs her wrists, still seated in the chair, giving Astarion a nasty glare.

Gale shuts the door behind him and places an arcane lock over it. 

“I take it you’ve heard?” He asks Astarion and Wyll with a grim look. 

Astarion’s jaw sets in annoyance. 

“Every word.” He mumbles. “How long will that stuff last?”

“A day. Enough time for me to brew another. In the meantime, we need to find some Noblestalk - more than what Shadowheart has leftover. She already tried to remove any curse set on Celeste, but it appears that’s not the root of her…condition.”

“Do you have any connections?” Astarion says, pushing himself off the wall.

“I may have to meet with Halaster again. I should probably tell him about Shovel as well…”

Astarion recalls the grisly sight of the quasit’s head rolling across the ground. Wyll had dug a shallow hole in the yard and buried the creature while they took Celeste inside, and he almost felt a pang of sympathy for it. 

“Is it safe to venture into the Undermountain again?” Wyll asks. 

“Halaster showed me paths on that map no one knows about. But we’ll take everyone to be safe in numbers. Astarion, Shadowheart and Nocturne can stay behind.” Gale says, gazing at him, “Between you three, hopefully you can get through to her…”

Astarion looks at the shut door across the hall. “I’ll…try.”

His musings are interrupted by the sound of a crash from the den, the front door sounding as if it had been ripped off the hinges all together. The three men exchange panicked looks before hurriedly descending the stairs. 

“What have you done!?” Aylin’s voice bellows through the house.

“You told her?” Astarion asks Gale, sliding his palm across his face with a groan.

“Sending spell. She needed to know. We were supposed to ambush the Sharrans today.” 

The doors to their companions’ rooms creak open in time for everyone to stumble out, joining them to greet the aasimar, all in various states of undress and bleary-eyed.

Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated sigh. “This isn’t the best time. We have a…situation to deal with.”

“I am well aware. So fix it, Shadow. Did my mother not bestow her gifts upon you? Did she not task you with protecting her granddaughter from harm?”

Astarion clenches his jaw, irritated by the accusation.

“She ran out there prepared for a fight. We tried to stop her!”

“And you failed.” Aylin says. 

“Aylin…” Isobel cautions, “he’s grieving.”

“You think I like this?” Astarion demands. “I don’t. I loathe seeing her this way, hearing her spout Shar’s dogmatic shit all day!”

“Easy there, soldier…” Karlach says, placing a hand on Astarion’s shoulder. 

Aylin schools her expression into one of more sympathetic determination. “Do you have a plan?” 

Astarion lets out a slow breath, bringing his volume back down.

“Noblestalk.”

“It’s the best shot we have, at present,” Shadowheart says.

“A good start.” Isobel says encouragingly. “Selûne’s magic can’t touch her in this state. Whatever they’ve done, we can’t help her until she’s willing to allow the Moonmaiden in again.”

“And what if we can’t reverse this?” Astarion’s voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. “What if she’s trapped in the Shar’s grasp? What if we can’t…save her?”

“Astarion, it took immense effort to keep me under Shar’s influence.” Shadowheart assures him. “They manipulated her mind once. She’ll come back. Thank the gods they didn’t force her before a Mirror of Loss…”

“There’s no guarantee we’ll get all of her memories,” Nocturne says, “but she’s still her. You two have centuries to aid her in finding herself again.”

Astarion recoils at the suggestion.

“Let’s get this mushroom, then.” Minthara says, “it’s our only lead.”

“We will check at the Selûnite temple for solutions. Convene with the Moonmaiden. Perhaps there’s something we’re missing..” Isobel says.

Astarion nods. It’s not a solution yet, but it’s a plan, and it’s something for him to hold on to. 

“Be safe.” Shadowheart says to Isobel and Aylin, as they turn to leave, abandoning the door the aasimar wrecked on her way in. 

Gale hands Shadowheart a bundle of scrolls and a potion. 

“Use these for removing and reinstating the arcane lock. There’s a permanent ward on the window to keep her in, and a few scrolls of hold person should things come to it.” 

“I hope we won’t need these.” She murmurs, looking nervously up the stairs.

“Astarion, you should go speak with her first.” Nocturne says, “see if you can make any progress.”

“Because that went so well last time.” He says under his breath and climbs the stairs begrudgingly. 

“Just don’t let her near any black hair dye while we’re gone!” Shadowheart calls after him. “Took a divine intervention to get it out of my hair…” he hears the cleric mutter to herself.

———————————————————————

Celeste is lying on the bed, her breakfast untouched on the nightstand. The displacer beast cub curled up with Tara at her feet, Gale seemingly sending in his Tressym to keep her company. 

Astarion slowly approaches, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He watches her silently, then reaches out towards her arm. 

“Celeste?”

She cracks open an eye.

“You.”

Astarion flinches almost imperceptibly at the tone in her voice as she throws herself forward. 

“Yes, me.” He forces himself to speak evenly. “Can we talk?”

She gestures in front of herself. 

“Talk all you want. It’s not as if I can go anywhere.”

He bristles, but bites down on any sort of argument. At the bottom of the mattress, Tara stirs and gives them a contemplative look before leaping through the open window, taking flight. Now alone, the displacer kitten stirs and moves into Celeste’s lap. She looks down curiously before scratching between its ears.

“Celeste…” Astarion begins. He lets her name linger in the air before continuing. “I know you can’t remember this, but you’ll need to trust what I’m going to tell you.”

“Trust you? You’re holding me against my will.”

Against her will. The words make Astarion’s head spin. 

“Darling…you couldn’t be more wrong. Trust me, I know you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” She says, “it’s clear none of you think I’m sane. Perhaps the Celeste you knew might have just been brainwashed by Selûnites? Perhaps this is who I am.”

He snorts. “Brainwashed by Selûne. Are you so desperate to prove me wrong?”

“My mistress saved me…” 

“No, I bloody saved you!” Astarion shouts. 

Celeste flinches when he raises his voice, but quickly recovers her mask of indifference. 

“Saved me from what, exactly? Is that what we are to each other in your world? I’m some damsel that needs you?”

Astarion steadies himself, trying to calm his emotions.

“We were friends. Allies. Partners.” He says, “We loved each other. You may not remember, but I do.” 

“As you’ve mentioned several times..” she tilts her head, “would you like to fuck me Astarion, is that it? I could oblige you. Come back to Vanrakdoom with me. Perhaps we can work something out...”

He swallows. The thought of her trading herself for freedom made him sick, shameful. But every instinct in his mind tells him it could work. Freeing her, letting her run to Keresta’s side. What would it matter which goddess she served, so long as she loved him? He’d never allied with one, truly, but it was Selûne’s gift that’s given him back the sun. It was Selûne’s that saved her, once. 

The cool, detached calculation in her eyes makes him feel nauseated. 

“No.” He says firmly, “I could never do that.”

She scoffs. “Noble of you.”

“Don’t pretend to be surprised.” Astarion says, a slight edge coming into his voice. “And don’t mock me. I know you’re desperate to be cruel right now, but let’s not act as if you aren’t perfectly aware I would never lay a hand on you. Not like this.”

She assesses him through narrowed eyes. “Why not, though? Why are you so insistent? If we’re lovers, you should have no problem...”

“Because this isn’t you.” Astarion sighs, a sound that’s almost a growl of its own. “You may not remember this about me, but I spent two centuries playing the rake. I wouldn’t inflict it on anyone else. Sex doesn’t matter to me like that.”

Celeste studies him for a short time. 

“Humor me, then. What is this terrible history of yours?”

His lip curls.

“I was a slave, darling dearest, for centuries. I was forced to serve a cruel master, forced to live my life at the edge of his whim, to lure people back for him...” His words are clipped and even. “Is that sufficient, or do you desire the particulars?”

She keeps her cool demeanor, but he notices she begins to wring her hands in her lap. 

“And that’s it? You were a slave?”

Astarion gestures wildly. “What do you mean, that’s it? You want me to tell you about the torture? Want me to regale you about the starvation and the mutilation and the use of my body for his own gain?”

“Shar could help you transcend your sorrows, erase the memories of what was done to you...”

“I begged for every god, including Shar. None saved me. None listened.”

She bites her lip, but seems engrossed in his story. 

“So your master…you escaped?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Astarion says, his voice soft and cold. “And then I returned to kill him.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Yes, well…” He tries to smirk, knowing it probably looks more like a grimace. “I had friends. It was not so simple a task.”

“Friends…like Gale?”

“Yes.” Astarion replies. “Shadowheart, Karlach, Minthara, Wyll... We traveled together, for a time.”

“How did you meet?”

“We were abducted by mindflayers, believe it or not. It’s a long story, really.”

Celeste leans back, settling against the plush pillows, her gaze fixed on him.

“We have time.” 

And so he tells her, vividly recounting their adventures through the untamed wilderness and the eerie, shadow-cursed lands. Defeating an Apostle of Myrkul, fighting Raphael in the Hells, killing Cazador, turning down Ascension. He told her everything. Orin shapeshifting into Gale and kidnapping him, how they had to kill Gortash - much to Karlach’s delight - to convince the Bhaalspawn to spare the wizard’s life. The insufferable Emperor that they turned against before their victory against the Netherbrain, and Gale’s invitation for Astarion to return to Waterdeep when it was all over. 

“You know, I’ve told you this entire thing before.” He remarks after he finishes. 

“You did?”

“Indeed.” Astarion mutters bitterly. “I thought it might make you remember something, but it didn’t seem to do any good.”

She shrugs. “It passed time.” 

“I’m glad I’m entertaining.” Astarion’s tone drips with sarcasm.

“I remember nothing from the past two months, you know.” She confesses suddenly. “Everything before that is…hazy.”

Astarion hums in acknowledgement, squinting at her.

“And that doesn’t give you pause? You don’t think your memory has been tampered with, rather than restored?”

She glances down at the displacer kitten purring in lap and pets it, not giving him a response.

“Does this creature belong to me?”

“It’s a shared pet. You’ll have to fight the cleric for it if you want to leave with it. The cub was gifted to you by a mad wizard only a couple of days ago.” 

“Displacer beasts are well aligned with Shar’s intentions…” Celeste begins. 

“Well, here’s hoping Gale’s Tressym is a good influence.” As Astarion looks down at his hands, a sense of desperation seeps into his voice.

“This isn’t you. Trust me. I know you.”

“How can I trust anyone when I can’t even trust myself?”

“You think it’s better to be a mindless puppet?” Astarion counters. “An obedient little zealot?”

There’s a soft knock as Nocturne peeks in. 

“Everything alright? I brought tea.” The tiefling offers Celeste a steaming mug, and she accepts it, but eyes it suspiciously before passing it to Astarion. 

“You first. Maybe you can earn some of my trust.”

“No one would poison you here, darling.”

Celeste doesn’t blink. 

“Fine.” He mutters and sips at the tea with reluctance.

For a moment he feels nothing, then, a slight memory, one long forgotten. A flash of something, hanging on to his mother’s skirts as a child, hiding from the busy streets of Baldur’s Gate as they walked to the market, her hand reaching for his, the comfort in her smile…

He dismisses the thought and returns the mug to her.  

“It’s just tea,” He says flatly. He hates lying to her, but the Noblestalk is the only chance to get her back.

“Just tea,” she mutters as she lifts the cup’s rim to her lips. She drinks, holding Astarion’s gaze. Nocturne takes a step back, and he sees Shadowheart lingering in the cracked doorway, watching. Astarion ignores them, watching as Celeste swallows the liquid. 

She sets the mug down, still half full, and stares at the quilt. She winces, touching her temple. 

“What did you do…” she growls.

“You remembered something, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I remembered the worst day of my life.” She glowers at them from under her tear-drenched lashes. “This is how you earn my trust? By lying to me?”

Astarion feels a stab of guilt. 

“You just recalled a painful memory.” Shadowheart interrupts them. “Keep drinking. There are good ones to recover as well.”

“I don’t want to see more!” Celeste knocks the tea from the nightstand and Nocturne jumps forward, catching it before it hits the ground. A bit sloshes out of the side, but she saves the rest.

Astarion moves before he has a moment to think about it.

“Stop it!” He reaches out and holds Celeste by her shoulders. “You remembered something! That’s progress. If you just stopped resisting-”

“I don’t want to remember that.” She sniffs. “The Lady of Loss must have taken the memory to provide relief…”

“What did you see?” Nocturne asks gently. 

“My parents dying. In perfect clarity. What those monsters did to me afterwards...” she says through gritted teeth. 

Astarion hadn’t considered that the memories that returned would also be some of her most traumatic.

“Noblestalk is an indiscriminate herb, unfortunately.” Shadowheart says. “I’m sorry what you saw was unpleasant, but your memories can’t lie to you. If you drink more, you’ll find joyous ones returning as well…”

Astarion tightens his grip on Celeste’s arms, giving her a pleading look. “Those monsters are the same Sharrans poisoning you against us now. Please. Just take the Noblestalk. You’re just making yourself suffer by refusing...”

“My whole life has been suffering, has it not!? From what memories I have, it’s been miserable! What good is there to remember?” 

“We don’t have time for dramatics.” Shadowheart says, snatching the tea from Nocturne. She forces Celeste backwards, pinning her to the bed.

Astarion reaches out to stop her, but the cleric gives him a threatening look over her shoulder when she feels him shift forward. As Celeste thrashes under her hold, screaming in protest, Nocturne pushes the mug back against Celeste’s closed lips with surprising force, tea dripping out the sides as she resists. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The tiefling says to her as Astarion watches helplessly.

Celeste attempts to spit out the Noblestalk, but Shadowheart puts a hand over her mouth, forcing her to swallow. When the cleric eases off her, Celeste jolts forward, coughing and gasping for air.

Astarion moves quickly, pulling her against him. She clutches at his shirt, tears staining its collar.

“I apologize.” Shadowheart says, “but you need to remember Celeste. Before Shar takes a stronger hold,” she turns to Astarion, “that’s all I have leftover from the shop in Baldur’s Gate. When Gale returns later, we’ll have more. If we can restore even one good memory of hers..” the cleric’s voice trails off, sympathy passing across her face as Celeste weeps into Astarion’s shirt.

“We’ll leave you.” She says and departs with Nocturne, shutting the door behind them.

Astarion doesn’t speak as they leave, waiting for Celeste’s sobs to quiet into sniffs before he tips her chin up, searching for a sign of the woman he loves. 

“Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright!” She pushes him off of her, as if surprised she’d sought solace in his arms in the first place.

Astarion lets her push him away, staring at her stonily. 

“What did you remember this time?” 

“Keresta bit me.” She whispers. “I had to crawl out of a grave - your grave - and you found me in that alley...”

Astarion’s hands reach out, clasping hers between them. 

“Keep going.” He says. “Please. Just keep talking. Just talk, darling.”

“When I was recovering. You came and told me how you’d been lying to me…about Keresta’s offer.” She closes her eyes as if trying to remember, “I forgave you. And the next day we…confronted…someone..”

Astarion’s gaze doesn’t leave hers as she recounts the memories.

“Daniel. Your ex.” He doesn’t mention she killed him. Best not venture into that territory yet. “He’s the one who led the Sharrans to you.” 

She nods. “You walked me back to the tavern after. I was struggling…with the two goddesses’ claim to me. The moon and the dark, the compulsion to be good. You…comforted me that evening.”

She blushes, undoubtedly recalling the lengths at which they “comforted” one another.

Astarion can’t help the tiny, almost painful grin that crosses his face at her statement. 

“Keep going. Please. What else?”

“We got in a fight after. Because you implied you loved me and I was so…taken aback by it.”

He winces as guilt washes over him, remembering how much of a dick he had been to her.

“I was devastated when you left.” she looks up at him. “Did we..make up? Apologize?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “We did.”

“That’s all I have. but I…” She shakes her head. “I know I love you. I felt it in that memory. I cared for you then.”

Celeste stands, pacing the room.

“If you say Shar and Keresta are lying…I’ll try to hear you out. After what they did to me before your intervention...you must be right about something.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this another one of your tricks?”

She lets out an annoyed huff. 

“Your friend, Shadowheart, that’s her name, yes? She said I’ll get back more memories if I keep taking the Noblestalk. So if it will help me get back to…whoever I was, I’ll do it.”

Astarion stands abruptly and strides purposefully to the wardrobe, rummaging through it.

“What are you doing?” Celeste asks as he brushes past her.

“Looking for something.” He replies, retrieving a book and pressing it into her hands.

“This is your father’s diary. He turned from Shar, once. Perhaps his words can help you find the strength, too…” He snatches a stuffed owlbear and tosses it onto the bed, “and this is apparently a childhood memento of yours. I found it in the remnants of your house fire. See if it jogs your memory at all.” 

He steps around her, placing his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll leave you with your thoughts for a while. Come find me when you’re ready to talk again.”

Celeste stands in the center of the room, clutching her father’s journal to her chest.

“You’re not locking me in?”

Their eyes meet, and he holds onto the moment. Perhaps she’s not herself, but she once gave him that same look after he kissed her for the first time. 

“A gesture of good faith.” He dares to smile as he slips into the hall.