#Some slight spoilers in here too for act 2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cursedcola · 9 months ago

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?"- Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia (Pt.1 !) (Pt.2 Here!) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. ALSO SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 7 IN SILVER Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. I had to break Diasomnia into 2 parts because I exceeded tumblr's character limit. I have favorites I guess :/

This man is a child masquerading as an adult. As in to say that he resists any illogical emotions until they bottle up and explode. The traditional pathway for finding a life partner typically follows: stranger -> acquaintance -> friend -> crush -> lover ->partner. You know, as it normally goes when bonds form.

Sebek....is not a textbook case in this regard. His path is a bit more customizable

stranger -> person he is forced to interact with -> acquaintance of Lord Malleus -> Acquaintance of Lord Malleus that Sebek approves of -> Friend that Lord Malleus approves of -> Repressed Crush -> Acquaintance that Sebek avoids at all costs -> Acknowledged crush -> Acknowledged crush that Lord Malleus approves of -> Respected individual with mitigated interactions -> Courting -> awkward situationship -> lover -> awkward situationship (with better communication) -> spouse

Enough said.

This process isn’t as complicated as it may seem on paper. While there are many steps, Sebek is fortunate enough to have people in his life willing to force commitments onto him. It also helps that he has blind trust in a select few. This makes him a bit naive and easily influenced. A boon in the right hands, and a bane in others.

In short, Sebek is emotionally constipated and only acts when there’s a driving force. Otherwise he just gets frustrated. This is extremely apparent at two stages: ‘repressed crush’ and ‘awkward situationship’. Scratch that. Three stages.

Beginning at ‘repressed crush’ - Sebek realizes that he likes you when you ask about how his training is going. He happened by your dorm during his morning jog, and was more than happy to go off on a tangent of the strict regimen developed to forge a perfect knight.

Except that’s not what you wanted to hear. You were more interested in his health and how he was enjoying himself rather than how his work was benefitting Malleus.

His heart fluttered, as if a shock of electricity thrummed through his body. Having never felt this before, Sebek mistakes it for a lapse in his strength and runs off at a much faster speed than before. Forget a light jog, he had enough energy to run 500 laps around the school track.

Don’t you get it human?! You were distracting him! His body was at rest too long. Now shoo, you’re hindering him from doing his duty.

He represses these budding romantic feelings and ‘misinterprets’ them as deviant behavior. He even goes so far as to blame it on ‘useless hormones’ and convinces himself that it’ll pass. He spares it no thought until his pining becomes apparent to everyone except for himself

Que the driving force. Despite Sebek believing otherwise, he does have friends and his entire love-life can be credited to their affectionate stupidity.

Simply put, Ace takes every chance to seamlessly flirt with you whenever Sebek is around. Not in a subtle way either - he's making some risky comments and trying to eat up every moment of your time. The others in your year are well aware of what he's doing too. Deuce thinks he's being unnecessary, but also agrees that Sebek needs a push so he lets it happen. Epel has his gripes with Sebek, but admires him for his manly tenacity. So he's 100% in support of giving an extra push and even tries to copy Ace. Except... yeah, he's pretty bad at flirting so he gives up after one try. Jack is against it at first, not wanting to hurt your feelings in the process but gets talked into it after seeing you get salty over Sebek being distant. Ortho, bless his innocent soul, thinks of it as a fun experiment. Lil guy just wants everyone to be happy.

You have no idea though, which is great because all of Ace's attempts fail hardcore. Sebek and his chivalrous ways (jealousy) won't stand by if you're being constantly bombarded with 'unwanted' romantic affections.

Nevermind that you don't seem to be taking Ace seriously at all. It is still not proper behavior! It would be a stain to his Lord's image if Sebek knowingly let Malleus' beloved friend endure such a hardship.

Every time Ace makes an attempt, Sebek shuts him down faster than you ever could. You have no idea how he does it, but Sebek is always around when it happens. The timing is honestly creepy....until you catch on to what's happening because the Ramshackle prefect isn't a dumdum.

"So....prefect, how about we go get dinner together tomorrow? Just you and me, what do ya say?" Ace slides into the seat to your right during breakfast. He leans in on his fist, eyeing you with a mischievous grin that crinkles the heart on his cheek. Just as he does, Sebek occupies the seat at your left and pushes Ace back with his palm.

"Do you ever rest?! They will do no such thing, now eat your meal before it runs cold. The chefs worked too hard for their efforts to be wasted by a delinquent!" Sebek answers on your behalf like clockwork. This event was not an uncommon sight to anyone, neither was Sebek failing to control his volume, so no other student paid the show any mind.

Normally you'd let them spit a few words at each other before returning to their own devices. Yet letting this continue just felt cruel, especially knowing that Ace was doing it to get a rise from your friend. Although Sebek wasn't innocent in the matter either

"Alright - Ace, would you knock it off? You don't even like me that way so quit messing with my head. I thought you were better than this," you say in between bites, side-eyeing your friend with a disapproving glare "And you!" you turn to Sebek, "I can answer for myself. Why do you even care? It's not like you're in charge of my love life. Just because someone wants to date me doesn't make them a delinquent...sheesh"

Why...why does he care? Sebek short circuits at your scolding, opening and closing his mouth to rebuttal yet coming up with nothing. Angered by his own turmoil, he grabs his meal and goes to sit with others from his dorm.

Stupid human. How dare you be so haughty and ungrateful? He was just protecting you from....from, what exactly? It's not like you going out with Ace would impact him in any way. It's not like you were in danger or upset with his advances. If anything. he was doing a good job at keeping your relationship professional for the sake of his liege!

Go ahead and date that childish hooligan for all he cares! Sebek won't be there to protect you when you're lost, or lend you a scarf on cold winter days. Ace can be the one to call you before bed every night, and keep your yearbook photo on his desk. Possibly keep his favorite candid photo as a bookmark for his diary, not that Sebek would know anyone that keeps a journal. He can have your birthday written in his calendar with a heart drawn around it, and have your picture in his wristwatch. He can set alarms to know when your classes end and walk you home. He can worry when you're sick and listen to your obnoxious prying....he can receive all your affections, and have your loyalty. Listen to your silly ramblings and receive those random 'i just thought of you' presents that Sebek always has a dilemma over what their purpose serves

You can be Ace's headache, and Sebek's heart will be lighter for it. These attachments he's formed were a lapse in judgement and will never be allowed again.

...

Sebek asks his lord for permission to court you. The next morning Malleus wakes to find the devotee bowed outside his bedroom, forehead attached to the floor and hands laid flat on the ground in reverence. Sebek proceeds to begin a long rant about how he's succumbed to his inner demons, and that he has sinned for letting another in his heart - Malleus cuts him off, happy to see love blossoming and interested to watch it all play out. He tells Sebek to take good care of you, before leaving. Meanwhile Sebek is sobbing at his lord's blessing

Once he's gathered himself, Sebek runs to your dorm and pounds on the door with fervor despite the early hour

Grim shakes you out of sleep, grumbling something about an 'annoying bastard' at the door before flopping back in bed. He shoves two pillows over his ears and tells you to fix the problem. That's when you hear the thumping, it's relentless and somehow sours your mood beyond what you thought possible. Mornings were not meant to exist on the weekend. So with an irritated groan, you slip on a robe over your pajamas and answer the door. A fist pauses in the air, moments from striking you. Sebek freezes momentarily, his body going ridged before coughing into his fist. A light blush dusts his cheeks.

“G-good morning, human. I apologize if I've disturbed your sleep, but I have an important announcement that cannot wait any longer" Sebeck studders, focusing on the door pane instead of your disheveled morning appearance.

“Alright" you sigh, resigning yourself to his whims, "what is it?"

Sebeck bows at the waist. "I am in love with you. Please accept my affections."

And so the motions continued on. A most unconventional pairing - possibly the hottest topic of the school year, in the words of Cater Diamond - was formed. Sebek was cautious of Ace at first, their previous spats leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. When he found out the truth, he was both appalled and grateful. So much that he scorned all his friends for weeks on end for pulling a stunt like that - but also thanking them. He apologizes for calling Ace a delinquent, and his heart changes a bit in response to their 'unique' display of care. Their intentions were good, and in the end it worked out. So he can pardon the indiscretion.

Life goes on until your relationship forms an 'awkward situationship'. The first time is brief. As it is with most cases of young love, the binding force that ties you to them crumbles. On earth it is highschool. In Twisted Wonderland it is NRC. Sebek knows where he's going - to serve the Draconias . The grey area is what you plan to do...because as much as his affections have grown, Sebek isn't willing to give up his dreams for you.

He's astonished when you decide to follow him to Briar Valley. He doesn't even have to breech the topic - arrangements were already being made without his input. You wouldn't be staying at the palace against his Lord's wishes. Instead a small cottage was built at a safe distance from the main city. Close enough for you to visit the castle, and far enough for you to feel comfortable and not out of place.

Seeing you taking his wants into consideration alters Sebek's perception of your relationship. You truly were lovers, and not a passing 'hormonal induced fling'. You loved him, and it's here when he truly begins to consider a forever. It was like the time when he first called your name, no longer calling you by 'prefect' or 'human'. He had done it many times in private, yet doing so to your face altered his brain chemistry. He loved the way your name rolled off his tongue, and the way your attention became his at the call.

Which leads us to the third and final major block-aid. Years have passed, and Sebek's well grown as an established knight for the Draconia family. He works alongside Silver, and many other comrades in arms. Everything is exactly as he dreamed. Malleus has become a beloved, strong king. Sebek is respected, and you are thriving as well. He didn't have much faith in your ability to last alone - it's not that he doubts your abilities, but he did doubt his people. When you first moved to Briar Valley Sebek was well aware that there were many like his past self - fae with a hatred for humans. He worried you would struggle to fit in.

Yet you surprised him. The tensions did exist against your kind, but you managed to card a space for yourself in Briar Valley with ease. You didn't even work in the palace, instead choosing to work towards becoming a children's teacher and work towards helping future generations of fae feel comfortable around humans.

His family adored you - with his mother in particular fawning over how Sebek fell down the same pipeline she did. His father offers you both advice on being an interspecies couple - and Sebek actually found himself listening.

Huh. Character growth. Is this what it's like to mature?

All is perfect, yet not. Sebek is forced to confront this when news travels that a human was attacked on their way to the palace. The dread that coursed through his veins was unlike anything Sebek's felt in his entire life. Under Malleus' rule, humans were slowly becoming more prevalent in Briar Valley. They hadn't mentioned your name specifically, but he jumped the gun.

Against his better judgement, Sebek abandons his post and rushed to the city's clinic. The injured human wasn't you, thank the seven, but the dread lingered. So he ran to the school you taught at and practically barged into your classroom. Luckily it was empty as the day was near end. Sebek hadn't known that yet still behaved recklessly.

He rushed to your side, talking faster than your brain could keep up with while checking over your body. He flipped topics like a teen trying to pick a college major - scolding you for worrying him, blubbering gibberish about how you'd no longer be allowed to walk alone, and myriad of other things.

Sebek was so shook, that he completely forgot about his knightly station. Malleus didn't punish him for abandoning his post. Not like it mattered, considering Sebek was already doing ample damage on his own. The realization hit him like a stone punch to the gut - there was a threat to his liege, and instead of focusing on apprehending the criminal he chose to find you.

Malleus' power or his dismissal of the matter meant little in the overall picture. Sebek failed. He's ashamed beyond belief.

and yet, he can't help but wonder what ight have been. What if you were the one attacked and he chose to stay? He would have failed you in that scenario.

He's surprised to find that the prospect his failure hurts just as much - if not more. His lord is powerful, and there are many to serve him. Your last moments could have been spent in a cold medical bed, surrounded by strangers. Fading away and taking Sebek's dreams with you.

............

Ah. Since when had that word become plural? His dream was always to serve Lord Malleus. Now there are more - he wants a family, and he wants to go to that play you were organizing with the valley's children next weekend. He wants to become a greater knight to protect the city that houses all the people he cares about. Again, plural. Lilia, Silver, his siblings and parents, all the human and fae who are loyal subjects to his most revered. You, and your decedents to come.

It's frightening. How valuable one's life can become. His always belonged to the Draconia bloodline to do with at they pleased - now Sebek's in pieces. Is he truly worthy of being a knight if he cannot give his whole heart?

He doesn't blame you for this. In his youth Sebek might have tossed your relationship aside in a heartbeat - that, or he might've demanded Malleus dismiss him and send him to repent in exile or whatever. Sebek has a problem with embellishing with dramatics.

BUT... he's more mature now. Mature enough to realize that maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.

So, he asks Lilia for advice. At this time the general merely lazes around the castle like a bat on the wall - acting as an advisor and observer. Surely he'd know what to do.

"There is nothing wrong with sharing a heart amongst many. If anything, the toughest decisions make us stronger. The more you have to lose, the stronger you will become to protect"

Preach it grandpappy. Lilia wants to see his grandkids so stop the slow burn already.

It's deja vu because Sebek wants to propose as quick as possible. Just like when he confessed, the man nearly runs to your home on impulse. You can thank Lilia for your proposal not taking place at 3am with your door being broke in two (Sebek is much stronger than he was in his teens, and sometimes miscalculates his strength).

Instead, Sebek finds himself anxiously clutching a ring in his pocket the following week. It was the night of a school play you were hosting - one he was looking forward to since you were so proud in your work. Ergo, Sebek felt pride as well by default.

How unfortunate that he can't focus on the show. With his mind reeling so much, it's taking all he has to sit quietly in the audience. His eyes follow your movements as you direct the kids, and for a brief moment you smile at him from the stage.

Zap. Alright. Don't clutch metal when you're a living thunderbolt. Duly noted. If anything the jolt of pain brings him back to reality.

When the play ends, and all the children have gone home with their families, he finds you back stage sweeping confetti. His plan was to congratulate you, and take you to a nice restaurant where he could do this properly.

Except he can't wait. When you turn around from putting the broom away, he's already taken a knee and holding the ring out. Those diligent gold iris' not pulling away for one moment, as he holds the ring out between two fingers and his other hand placed over his heart as if taking an oath.

"Before you say anything - You have sacrificed time and time again for my happiness - my efforts are insignificant in comparison. I have taken your patience for granted like a spoiled juvenile. There was a time when I found this kindness of yours unnecessary. I thought it a distraction - a test of my strength to fulfill my destiny. I see now that I was foolish”

Sebek pauses, grinding his teeth together in regret and anguish.

“I had not known fear until you. I have more to lose now than ever before. Last week I abandoned my post - my purpose- In that moment, all I could think about was if you’d been attacked, then my life would be over. You make me lose all sense of logic and reason…so I demand that you take responsibility and marry me!”

{A gold band with an obsidian base. Gold and silver flakes are sealed atop the obsidian plate using resin. Very practical, yet charming nonetheless. Humans typically wear matching bands, yes? Sebek sees no purpose in getting separate designs since the point is to show proof of partnership. He needs a practical shape that will not interfere with combat, yet also wants it to be an aesthetic choice. Sebek could care less about looks, but if he’s going to give you a ring then it will be the best possible option to match to your worth}

Silver is beautiful like still ocean waters. He's breathtaking - literally and figuratively. With the beauty of a fairytale prince, personality of a wise knight, and deadliness of the deep sea. It's easy to be sucked in when Silver seemingly has no flaws. So easy that at one point there were rumors of him being a living doll, created by the fae to be a perfect solider.

These perceptions all rely on his outward appearance: the knight in shining armor. Albeit so, being so perfect almost makes him unnoticeable. Compared to his rowdy peers with quirks and notable personalities - Silver truly is a doll. Like the complacent child praised for being more mature than their siblings. He is as easily forgotten as he is admired.

Some would say that this is a flaw in itself - because no one is naturally perfect. No one is so complacent and calm at birth. It's simply a desirable flaw. One that hurts him, yet has ben praised by others.

Silver is strong. Silver is diligent. Silver is beautiful. Silver is breathtaking and yet not the showstopper - like gold. Gold brings warmth while silver is cold. Imperfections in gold give it character, and can be seen as art. Imperfections in silver are seen as unsightly scratches.

Silver knows this, yet doesn't want to be gold. He doesn't deserve to be gold.

Silver doesn't deserve anything. He has already taken so much simply by living. He has a world to be grateful for, and not enough time to repay his debts.

He is content being Silver - if he could then he'd be copper. Lesser. Yet he is Silver, a reminder of the blood he carries.

He will remain unremarkable yet dedicated. He will dedicate everything to his family and friends - do whatever he can to break free of his sleeping curse and help others. He will give until he cannot give anymore. Then he will give more, to repay all he has received.

....For as much as he is content with this life, Silver still envies gold.

You are beautiful like a new dawn. Ushering in each day with a vibrant display that commands attention. People instinctively admire you despite the risk of hurting their eyes. You heal the world naturally, and help others simply by existing. People take you for granted, because inevitably the moon will rise, and the cold will inevitably return.

You were bathed in golden light. This Silver noticed the moment he laid eyes on you. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Silver envies gold.

........

You envy Silver. His calm, his family, his dedication despite being limited by his crippling drowsiness. Out of the students from Diasomnia, he was the one you lingered towards more often than not. The freshmen revered him for his skills, and he was a true gentle soul. You at first couldn't believe that he was Lilia's son - how did such a kind boy come from a rambunctious tease? Revelations of his past brought much to light, and now you couldn't think of him being anyone else.

Silver was loved like the first snowfall. He had a family that loved him dearly, no matter how short his time with them would be. He was raised to bring happiness to others, and protect their hearts using his demure temperament.

Silver was modest, and silver glistened when you'd expect him to the least. As the wind caressed his hair during an afternoon siesta, or sparks lit in his eyes while swinging his sword. How the horses nuzzle his side after equestrian practice, showing full trust and affection. Even in the sweat dripping from his brow, shining as he easily finishes a set of push ups.

Yet nothing struck your heart more than the melancholy he'd emit when no one was looking. How quickly he'd fade into the background, only popping in when necessary or if someone gave him note. In these moments Silver gleamed brilliantly, yet a shadow put out his shine.

You thought the melancholy inviting. It felt so natural, so real. Except you believed it balanced dangerously between despair and serene. The larger question being which side would he evidently fall towards.

.........

Silver admires gold.

He couldn't stop the pull. He just couldn't. Not with how you seemingly watch him when no one else does. Who wouldn't feel special? With the way you take note of things he normally wouldn't think of, and recklessly delve into helping others with no regard for yourself. Whether you desire the trouble is beyond him - the matter is that you see every issue through. There isn't a soul who doesn't know of the ramshackle prefect.

Perhaps this is his torment to endure. To get a taste for what he could have been, and willingly be tied to it.

Silver stares into a vanity mirror, his expression neutral despite the growing emotions inside. A slightly tattered sheet is tied around his neck like a bib, covering his front and part of his back. A shiver runs down his spine as you comb through his hair, deftly trimming the edges with a pair of kitchen scissors with the precision of a professional. A shiver runs down his spine every time your fingers linger against his scalp, either from tucking stray strands or combing through layers with your fingertips.

Your expression is stern, eyes intensely focused as you cut around his ear, afraid to nick him in the process. He finds the expression adorable yet bites his tongue. Silver couldn't think those thoughts. Not when you offered to do this out of the kindness of your heart.

Nonetheless, his heart thrums. If it were possible he'd think the organ about to pop out at any moment.

"Finished!" you smile in satisfaction and tussle Silver's soft locks for good measure. In one fell swoop, you undo the knot around his neck and pull the makeshift apron off of him. Silver nods, a slight smile teasing the edge of his lips. He stands from the chair and steps over any hair on the floor, reaching for the broom to clean before you could think to. "Thank you. I no longer need to schedule with a barber. This will save much time," In truth he had no intentions for a haircut. Either himself or his father would trim the ends once they started interfering with his sight, but he was too busy as of late. You were the one to notice how his bangs hindered his vision, and offered to help. Silver couldn't bring himself to deny your kindness. "You really like it? Hehe. Y'know, maybe I should start a shop on campus? I only started doing this since there aren't any affordable salons....maybe with it I can finally afford to fix the guest room!" you cheer and prattle on about all the different possibilities. Occasionally you'll ask for Silver's input, or even give an off hand compliment about how he was the perfect 'test subject'. Your company is intoxicating, he realizes. Talking with you is as easy as drinking water. Before Silver realizes, night has fallen and you've fallen asleep on the couch. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself wandering the Ramshackle door. He compulsively cleans up the mess you'd both left behind during his visit, doing the dishes from dinner and rearranging things here and there. As he does so, Silver notes all the little improvements around the dorm. It feels more like a home than a school building. Then again you do live alone. He wonders how often you host visitors, and if you unknowingly ensnared them just as you've done to him. He covers your shoulders with a blanket and steps outside under the moonlight.

It’s cold.

...............

You wake up the following day to find all the windows shut, your living room clean, and a warm blanket covering your shoulders. Your eyes peer around for silver, yet turn up empty.

Of course. Silver has a dorm to return to and people that would miss him if he returned late.

Shuffling around the silent dorm, the rickey old floorboards creek underneath your weight. In manufactured motions, you brew a cup of tea and pour it into the only well-used cup from the cabinet.

As your cup brews, you sit at the table with the blanket still clutched tight over your shoulders.

The tea goes cold, yet you are warm.

................

Silver loves gold.

but silver and gold don't mix. The question always is: silver or gold? When deciding a piece of jewelry to match your skin tone, people will ask 'silver or gold'? The metals are not meant to mix because they clash. It's an outfit catastrophe.

Yet, Silver cannot help but wonder. As he lays with his head in your lap and the sun and silence coaxing him to slumber - what if an outfit existed to compliment both silver and gold?

"Silver..are you sleeping again?" you tap his cheek with one hand, and his eyes open instinctively. Despite his drowsiness he will always look for you. Yet right now he's never regretted the magnetic pull more. With the sun casting a golden overcast, you peer down at him from above with tender eyes typically reserved for one's child. Your glow is breathtaking, and he cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach that he is unworthy. With such gentle hands combing across his scalp and eyes that look upon him so tenderly - he is afraid to steal your warmth. And yet… "You are beautiful," Silver lets it slip, his hand reaching to brush against your jaw as if under a spell. He feels unnervingly calm. Not in his usual way, where he is constantly observing and playing a game of mental chess. This is a true calm, and he knows now that this is a point of no return.

Silver is beautiful like a still ocean. You are beautiful like the rising sun. When combined, a perfect image is formed just waiting for an artist to stumble upon it.

Against his wishes, the world has granted the child of dawn another gift. The gift of true love. 'True love's kiss will break the curse' and while it is childish to believe so in this case, Silver does so wholeheartedly.

When with you, the days pass like minutes. He wants nothing more than to forgo need for sleep, if only to work harder towards becoming a man worthy.

Silver envies gold for it's effortless demand for love, yet he no longer wants to be gold. He no longer wishes he were born copper.

Gold loves silver, so Silver he will be.

And with time, both Silver and Gold will be ground to dust regardless.

He thinks of this on a winter evening while holding a ring up into the moonlight. It's cold outside, yet he doesn't mind. The chill atop his nose does nothing but tinge it a lovely rosy color.

He looks through the windowpane into a home masquerading as a school building. His reflection is familiar yet changing rapidly in comparison to his family. The years have aged him, yet not by much. Silver is stronger, his soft jaw a bit sharper. His bangs have grown long again, it would soon be time for a cut. Perhaps he'd enlist a 'barber' after relocating back to the castle in briar valley.

Inside you sit at the couch, sipping from a well-used mug with Grim on your lap and watching cartoons. Silver's bag rests on the armchair, unzipped with nightly necessities spilling out the side. A slightly newer baby blue mug sits on the coffee table, with steam evaporating into the air as it waits to be used.

Silver smiles, walking towards the door and walking inside. Heat warms his cheeks and he is calm.

"I know I am unworthy of you, the thought plagues me to this very moment. Yet I cannot help but love you - like wishing on a star yet knowing deep in the depths of your heart that miracles are made not granted. I've received many, so I would know. My father gifted me life through love - and with you I understand how it is possible. I cannot imagine life without you. I promise this, I will cherish you and protect you for as long as you allow it. Would you marry me?"

Months later a ceremony is held in a secluded forest, in the yard of a cottage where a child first learned love. As an adult, he joins his most precious in matrimony, offering his sword to be sworn faithful.

You are beautiful like the first breech of daylight - and for once, Silver is happy to be a man of dawn.

Silver and gold.

Everyone wishes for silver and gold.

How do you measure it's worth?

Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.

{A ring forged from a silver band, gold leaf embellishments, and a moss agate core. Enough said.}

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #diasomnia #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #silver x reader #twst silver x reader #silver vanrouge #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #I FREAKIN FINALLYT FINISHED THIS SERIES

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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.”

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.”

“Yes, yes, a real jester.”

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.”

“Many thanks, my liege.”

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.”

“Of course you could.”

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark.

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity.

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken.

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step.

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.”

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages.

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter.

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.”

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.”

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.”

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like.

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while.

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell.

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through.

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.”

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch.

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?”

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back.

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.”

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax.

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath.

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind.

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?”

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention.

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you.

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—”

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say.

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh.

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer.

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up.

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#a foolish lover's offering #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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aidansloth · 10 months ago

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Coffee and Chamomile

Summary: Hitoshi can’t sleep (again) so he decides to get up and make himself some good-ass coffee ‘cause he’s smart. When he reaches the common room, he realizes he’s not the only one who wanted a hot beverage.

Warnings/Things to keep in mind: slight hurt/comfort, swearing, suggested low self-esteem on Shinsou’s side and some dirty jokes because they’re teens. And adorably cute. Reader is referred to as they/them or ‘you’, this takes place in the dorms and Shinsou is part of Class 1-A (or 2-A, whatever you want). Also I don’t remember perfectly the layout of the dorms so pretend. I’m not up to date with the episodes (stuck on season 4) so please no spoilers! Last disclaimer: this is KIND OF self-indulgent and I’m autistic so if you think the reader is acting weird, that’s why.

Words: 2.3k

Posted this on AO3 too! You can find it here.

2:38am

Hitoshi turned in his sheets, covers uncomfortably sticking to his form as he sank his face into the scrunched-up pillow.

3:04am

An exasperated groan escaped his lips, half suffocated by the cushion; his arms wide around the mattress and his breathing deep and empty.

3:29am

That’s it. He’s getting up and making himself some damn coffee or whatever the others left in that poor kitchen. His sheets are hurled carelessly as his feet instinctively find their place in his cat-shaped slippers. Trying not to make too much noise (an act he had mastered by now) he opened the door and made his way to the common room. His phone, used as a make-shift torch guided him across the corridors; as he got closer and closer he noticed light becoming brighter, when he finally reached his destination the realization dawned on him. Someone else was up.

He quickly turned his phone-torch off before turning the corner, to find one of his new classmates dancing (or whatever that was) with their back turned to him, hands busy with what looked like a cup of tea.

It wasn’t long since he joined the Hero Course but he was starting to remember some names and whatever faces he didn't remember from the Sports Festival. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that good with names. No one talks to him anyways, why should he care?

While he did recognize you from behind he did not remember your name. You were nice to him, he thought. Nicer than the rest at least. That Denki guy seemed nice too- a bit too intense though. You lent him a pencil- or was it a tissue? No mind that, what was he gonna do now? Leave? No, you’ll turn around and notice him and think he was spying on you. Did you even want company? You seemed pretty busy. On the other hand it’s his common room too- but has he been there long enough to intrude on your private moment like that? He might not be here to make friends or be nice but that doesn’t mean he has to be an ass.

That’s when he realized you hadn’t noticed him yet. Ah. So aware of their surroundings for a hero.

He decided that grunting awkwardly was the best course of action. Bummer, you were wearing earphones. He tried a louder cough, but you only noticed him once you found yourself face to face with him. A loud curse left your lips and your hands instantly slammed against them as instinct. Hitoshi’s eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together to suppress a chuckle. Good thing you placed your tea down earlier. Their eyes were now staring straight into his.

“Ehm- hi.” You licked your lips, saliva suddenly missing.

“Hi.” He managed to grunt out. Now this was awkward. He watched your eyes dart back and forward before settling back on him. He really wanted to say something, anything to get this uncomfortable feeling out but that little voice at the back of his head held him back.

“You here to make yourself some tea too?”

His mouth opened slightly, the careless innocence of the question taking him aback. Still, no words came out. He nodded. He actually wanted coffee but he didn’t think himself able to explain that through words now.

“Cool. I boiled extra water accidentally. What kind of tea did you want?” Your smile looked so genuine and again, careless. Like you didn’t think he was dangerous. Out of habit he was about to nod again but stopped in time to force some words out.

“Is there carcade?”

“Yep!” You were definitely too chipper for this hour in the morning. He tried not to think too much about the fact that you answered his question with no hesitation. He watched as you moved your hands swiftly along the mugs and tea bags, your movements rhythmic, like you do this a lot. In no time your teas were ready, so you placed yours in front of your stool and in front of his. Not that he sat down yet, no. His eyes were too busy watching you. The tea caught his attention quickly enough. Sitting down his hands snaked around the mug, his hoodie sleeves just a bit too long.

A string of silence hung.

“I guess we’re both awake for the same reason.” Hitoshi was glad his voice was back, though the ever-lingering anxiety stayed. He actually didn’t know why they were up but he thought this was a decent conversation starter. His gaze was too occupied marveling at the tea to notice your tilted head and dog-like expression.

“You’re writing fanfiction too?”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“Ehm- no- no I’m not.” Suddenly he felt weird and sorry he wasn’t writing fanfiction. His classmate nodded understandingly while taking another sip off their mug. Looking back at the kitchen island he felt particularly stupid for not noticing the laptop with an open Google Document page open. There was a small beat of awkward silence before the next sentence.

“Then why are you up?”

Ah. There it is. What was he supposed to respond now? Oh yeah, basically I have insomnia, meaning I get no hours of sleep and I do manage to miraculously fall asleep I’m awoken by nightmares and now, as our new guest of honor, the gracious sounds of the guys’ snoring which breaks the laws of time and space by getting across all those walls!

“Just- stuff.”

He thanked every god in the universe that they didn’t ask anything surrounding his very weird and suspicious answer but opted for a simple nod and a ‘cool’. Clinging his fingertips against the mug he realized he should try to keep the conversation going as well; you probably thought he didn’t want to talk to you with all his dry answers. His grip tightened and his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

“What- what is the fanfiction about?” He swore he never saw someone’s eyes light up faster, their lips immediately stretched into a painfully wide smile.

“Basically, you know ‘Lord of the Rings’, right? The fantasy book? There are these two characters, a dwarf and an elf. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, these two races have a really tough history which led to prejudice and hate on both sides. But for this certain world-saving quest they have to interact with each other, trust each other, you know? For the first quarter, maybe, of the quest they don’t get along very well. I mean, not trying to kill each other or anything, but petty threats and jokes are thrown around. At a certain point in their journey they have to take a break in this elven kingdom and by the end of it they are the best of friends! Now, I ship these two characters together, so, I’m writing a specific fanfic that takes place during their pause there and since Tolkien didn’t really go into detail with what they were doing during that time I have lots of creative freedom,”

Hitoshi’s lips pressed together as he watched them gesticulate their way through what could only be defined as a speech; his half-open eyes never left theirs while his chin rested on his hand. His eyes lingered from one feature of their face to another, still listening of course: he was good at that. Though his eyes may have lingered a moment too long on their lips.

“-not even mentioning their relationship later on at the end of ‘The Return of the King’, commenting on Minas Tirith’s architecture like a bunch of housewives! Really, in the middle of a war ‘This place needs more trees!’-” Their face dropped and Hitoshi’s heart with it. Did they notice him staring too much? He did that, didn’t he? Fuck. He made them uncomfortable-

“I’m sorry. I’m boring you.” They say huffing out a half-regretful chuckle. It nearly tricks him.

He stared just a little bit longer before talking.

“You’re not.”

He watched as their lips turned into an awkward smile, like they thought he only said it to be nice. The silence slowly crawled back. Hitoshi didn’t know what sudden urge slapped him in the face enough to have the courage to speak, but he did.

“Your voice is relaxing.” Good job asshole, now they think you’re a creep. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from your surprised one, which quickly turned into one of joy. And now he was blushing. Might as well dig my own grave with that one. Fingers tapped on mugs. Their mouths opened once, closed and then opened again.

“Do you mind if I- we move to the couch? I hate stools.”

“Sure- yeah.”

And moved to the couch they did. Fanfiction-writing long forgotten, they placed their teas on the small table in front of them; Hitoshi was surprised when they got blankets for the both of them and instinctively covered him too but he wasn’t about to complain about it. For a little while they sat in comfortable silence, only sounds of breathing and sips were heard. Just for a little while though. Until he noticed they kept yawning and their head dropping a bit every couple of seconds. His eyebrows scrunched up.

“You tired?”

“Meh, just a bit.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you up? I mean, we’re not that busy right now with school, you could write during the day and not in the middle of the night. Unless you can’t sleep but it doesn’t look like you can’t.”

“Well-” They huffed out a smile. “-it’s not exactly about having time. It’s a bit more complicated. Like-” They exhaled again, squeezing their eyes shut and then reopening them. “There aren’t enough hours during the day to- to be. The whole day feels like a dread and the only thing I look forward to is those hours in the night where I can do anything I want without that senseless guilt. The night is the only time I feel free to be.”

Hitoshi stayed silent for a moment, elaborating every word meticulously.

“That’s- that’s-”

“Sad? Pathetic? Depressing?”

He chuckled. “I mean- a bit.” Their soft laughter mixed together. “What I meant to say was, that’s- relatable.” A simple shared look was enough to fill the silence between them.

“So, why are you up?” Before Hitoshi could excuse himself again they stopped him.

“Don’t you dare say ‘just stuff’ again to me, I just gave you a tear-ripping, punch-to-the-face, gut-wrenching speech.” With their index finger pointing at him he let out a soft laugh, though his eyes lost a bit of their shine for a second when he started speaking.

“I have insomnia.”

“Ah. So you got up to make yourself chamomile or something?”

“Well, I wanted to make myself some coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“And you let me make you tea, why?”

Hitoshi adjusted himself quickly and cleared his throat. “You looked happy.” He felt their eyes stare through his soul, he felt naked.

“Is this helping?” God thank you for changing the subject.

“Is what helping?”

“Talking.” He thought for a moment.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Don’t usually talk to people.”

They smiled. “I noticed.” He grinned.

“Are you going to go back to sleep then? Well, not sleep- you get it.”

“Don’t know. This couch is very comfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” You said, raising your eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. A wide grin grew on his face and he let out a laugh.

“Yeah.” You nodded again.

“You know, I won’t get offended if you want to go back to sleep- or to your fanfiction.” He said.

You shook their head. “I’m fine here.”

He gulped, praying that the low light won’t show his blushing cheeks. Their conversation went on for another half an hour at least, Hitoshi couldn’t tell honestly. Their teas finished and mugs cold, they got up (mostly because they realized the time). Cups in the sink, they began talking again once Hitoshi yawned.

You chuckled. “Is my voice that relaxing?”

“Incredibly so.” He grinned seeing them laugh again. He cleared his throat.

“So, you going to sleep?” Hitoshi watched them as their shoulders dropped.

“Yeah- yeah, is that okay? I don’t mean to leave you alone but-”

“Yes- yes it’s fine don’t worry about me, I won’t die,” he grinned, his hands in his pockets “sleep, you need it.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“No, I’m like Batman.”

“Are you implying he doesn’t sleep because he calls himself Batman?- He’s not even- He doesn’t have super powers like that, you are aware-” Their soon-to-be ramble was interrupted by his laughter.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not mocking, promise.” He bit his inside cheek, clenching and unclenching his fists in nervousness. “I just- like how passionate you are.”

“About Batman?”

“About Batman.” They looked at each other for a second before you nodded.

“Alright… Well, I’m off to bed. Nice slippers by the way.” Hitoshi grinned like a lovesick boy at your comment.

He nodded smiling and moved away a bit from the entrance of the corridor to let you pass. They smiled and wished each other a good night. It only took a few steps before you stopped and whipped around.

“Wait!” You ran and before he knew it they had plunged into him, his torso wrapped nicely within their arms. His body froze at first but quickly came back and wrapped his own arms around their frame. Hitoshi could feel his muscles relax. It wasn’t long before they moved away leaving an empty feeling in both of them.

“Goodnight!” They said and Hitoshi swore that was the sweetest smile he had ever had the luck of witnessing.

“Good- goodnight.”

As if he was able to sleep after that.

Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism/advice is welcomed.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #i love him soso much #first time writing for hitoshi #hope you like it!#wrote this instead of sleeping #hitoshi shinso x reader

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blackcatwriter · 2 months ago

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Linger Part 2 (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Part 2 is finally here! I stayed up a little late for a few days to push this one out because I wanted to get it done before my classes started. Thank you to the lovely @scumscumpooties47 for helping to edit all that I write. Literally none of these would be posted if I didn't have your encouragement. Happy reading!

warnings: typical canon violence, no use of Y/N, angst if you squint, happy ending, fluff, possibly some grammatical mistakes, slight spoilers to Ch. 4 but once again creative liberties are taken

wc: 3.1k

tags: @warmsideofthepillow03

summary: You make up your mind, Arthur struggles to keep his promise once more.

divider by @plum98

The ride out of St. Denis grew quiet as the cobblestoned streets faded to dirt roads leading back to the Largras swamps. In place of the bustling streets were the croaks and cries of the animals that resided there. Arthur’s mind was in a haze, reeling from the amount of emotions he felt from seeing you again.

Nervousness. Relief. Desperation. Longing. Love.

The moment he saw you at that damned party he instantly forgot what his purpose of being there was for. Arthur disappeared from Dutch’s side to find you. He didn’t even know what he’d say to you much less if you’d be willing to hear him out.

But god–being away from you for months without a clue of your wellbeing just to see you all dressed up at a party shot a bullet straight through his heart. He knew he wouldn’t be able to leave that party without talking to you, but he hadn’t expected everything that proceeded after.

Following a lady home after clearly upsetting her? Asking her to run away with you again? Here you had him acting like a damn teenage boy with a crush.

“What the hell am I doing, girl?” Arthur muttered to his steed. As if understanding his frustration, Bodicea huffed in response, earning a sigh from him. “I’m a fool for thinking she’d want to show up after everything.” As he reached the gang’s hideout, Arthur left his horse to graze while he readied himself for what Dutch would have to say.

Dutch wouldn’t take too kindly to Arthur disappearing from helping the gang look for leads, especially if it was for the lost love Dutch told him to leave in the past. “Distractions cost the gang. Let her go,” Dutch would remind Arthur while his heartbreak was still fresh from leaving you.

“Arthur! Get in here!” Dutch yelled from the front porch of the creaky manor, crushing his cigar into the ground with his boat before striding inside. Complying to his orders, Arthur followed behind him quickly.

“I have a plan. We’re going to rob the trolley station tomorrow. Micah claims he heard Pinkertons not too far behind us so we’ll need to act–”

“Tomorrow?” Arthur’s face paled. “We ain’t never robbed something in a city before. The law is gonna be all over the place! We need more time than just a day’s notice.” Arthur looked down at the map Dutch had on the table. “We’ll be backed into a corner by the law before the Pinkertons catch news and come for the rest of us–if we ain’t dead by then!”

“Are you doubting me, son? There’s already been enough of that amongst the gang. I don’t need to hear anymore of that, especially from my best gun.” Dutch scowled. “What I need to hear is that you have my back. Do you have my back, Arthur?”

Pushing you to the back of his mind, he answered, “Always, Dutch.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Dutch walked upstairs to his makeshift room. Sighing, Arthur sat down with his head in his hands. He felt torn in half. On one hand, he had his loyalties to the gang. He had been with them, with Dutch, for practically his whole life. He owed Dutch his life, but lately he couldn’t help but feel as if Dutch wasn’t thinking his plans through.

On the other hand, there was you. You, who had held him when he could no longer bear the weight of the guilt he kept inside. You, who would listen to him talk about the few precious memories he had with his mother. You, who Arthur loved dearly. Too distracted by the conflicting feelings in his head, Arthur didn’t notice Hosea sitting down by him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so thoughtful, Arthur.” The old man chuckled to himself. “What’s on your mind, son?” Sighing, Arthur raised his face. Some things might slip by Dutch, but Hosea seemed to always know when something was wrong.

“You ever regret it? Coming back to this shit hole?” From what Arthur picked up when Hosea mentioned his life with Bessie, he had it pretty damn good. The pair lived in a cabin up in the Grizzlies until Hosea was roped back into their life of crime. Bessie had come along with him until she tragically died.

“I regret bringing Bessie with me.” He paused, his voice growing solemn. “Maybe she’d still be alive if I left her behind.” The grief ridden man’s words hit Arthur deeply. Bessie unfortunately already met her end, but you hadn’t. You still had a chance to live your life unafraid of the people that might come after you.

“It’s that woman again, isn’t it?” A small smile grew on Hosea’s face. “She’s why you disappeared from us.”

“It ain’t like that.” Vulnerable at the mention of you, Arthur stood from his seat practically storming away from Hosea until he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Son, even as bad as it is for us now…you still have a chance to do right by your woman. Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.” Loosening his grip on Arthur’s arm, Hosea disappeared up the stairs.

Hearing Hosea telling him he had his blessing to walk out on the gang left Arthur feeling more unsure than ever. While he loved the people in the gang he had come to know as family, you had become his home away from home (as much as the gang’s ever changing campgrounds can be called “home”.)

Needless to say Arthur didn’t get much sleep that night.

The following morning you were awake as soon as the sun had risen, pacing in your room. You were sure the servants would be annoyed by the constant creak your floorboards made with each step, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The suitcase you had packed in a frenzy last night poked out from under the bed. You had no idea what came over you when you packed it. It was a blur of grabbing random items you thought might be worth selling and as many snacks you could steal from the kitchen without raising suspicion.

Picking at your sleeves you pondered all the possibilities that could occur.

1)One of the servants finds out and stops you before you can leave. 2) Arthur gets caught by a bounty hunter for whatever bounty he has over his head because he’s Arthur and always seems to be in some kind of trouble. 3) Arthur is killed by anyone else he might’ve wronged from being with Dutch (You hated that man. You always had a bad feeling about him.) 4) Arthur and you manage to leave the city and live in a hidden cabin somewhere in the mountains 5) Arthur doesn’t show up.

Somehow even the possibilities of Arthur’s death seemed better than him abandoning you all over again. Death would mean he left you against his will. Your better judgment told you not to take him for his word. The two of you had already tried this once–look where it got you– but even now the love you still felt for him won you over.

So now here you were, endlessly treading back and forth your room. This was it. You were going to trust that he would be standing at the bridge he said he would and run away with him.

Suddenly a quiet knock was heard from your door followed by a light voice, “Ma’am? Is everything alright?” Recognizing the voice as your maid, Nora, you quickly opened the door and plastered a smile on your face. “Of course it is. Why are you asking?” You huffed, blowing your hair out of your face.

Oh god, she sees right through you. She can probably tell what’s going through your mind just by the frantic look in your eyes. She’ll alert the other servants and soon enough your husband will cut his business trip short to deal with you. Maybe she’ll keep it a secret if you bribe her.

“Not to be nosy, but the other maids and I heard ye’ pacing since the sun came up. Would ye’ like me to make some tea?” Your stiffness eased at her efforts to offer you some comfort in the form of tea. Since you first arrived at your fiance’s residence Nora had been the only person who made you feel welcomed. She might be the only person you’d miss once you’d left.

Thanking her, you walked downstairs to the drawing room and waited for the tea. You definitely had to calm down. Your nerves were causing you to look like a mess in front of everyone, but the urge to just race out the front door to Arthur’s arms was too strong. The love of your life was so close to you yet so far.

Soon what felt like eons passed and noon was just half an hour away. It would be easy to make up an excuse to get out of the house, but how does one explain carrying a suitcase? Nonsense, you’re their employer (engaged to their employer but nonetheless), and they had no authority to question what you do in a day.

“Nora, I’ll be taking my afternoon walk earlier today. Don’t worry if I take longer than usual. I plan on running some errands while I’m out.” You called out while you dashed to the front door as fast as you could without tripping over yourself.

“But ma’am what about Mr. Finch?” Nora chimed, noticing the suitcase you held in your hand. Stopping in your tracks you turned around to face her. “What about my fiance?” Confusion evident in your voice. Did you forget something?

“He’s coming home early, remember?” Nora reminded you. Ah, there it is. You had forgotten he was going to come home early, but you’ll be long gone by the time he turns up. “I’m sure I’ll be home before he arrives.” You gave a tight lipped smile.

“Oh ma’am, you needn’t hold your own suitcase. That’s why ye’ have the help.” She gestured for one of the nearby servants to take the suitcase from you.

“Nonsense, I can carry my own belongings. You all do enough as it is.” You flinched and held the suitcase closer to yourself.

If she was suspicious of you, she didn’t show it. With a hesitant nod she let the matter go and returned to her duties. Having nothing else that needed tending to, you left. You walked out the door with your heart beating out of your chest.

The walk to the bridge was only a few short minutes. No one had bothered you once you were out the door, which you were glad about. You didn’t want anything to do with your pretentious neighbors anymore or their weekly tea gatherings to discuss the latest gossip of high-society.

No, you wanted to be with Arthur and spend the rest of your life exploring the country by his side. Who knew where you’d go first? Obviously you’d have to lay low until his face was no longer on wanted posters–perhaps the Grizzlies?

You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts when a lawman bumped into you as he ran by causing you to fall. “Excuse you–” You had started to reprimand him as you reached for your suitcase when you looked up and realized all the policemen were running from their posted stations.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, furrowing your eyebrows at the commotion going on around you. Lifting yourself off the ground you ran to the nearest policeman. “What’s going on? Why are people running?” In the back of your mind you had an idea of who might be behind the uproar, but you desperately wished it wasn’t him.

“Dutch! The damn brakes are broken!” Arthur yelled, racing to get to the back of the trolley. Maybe if he was lucky he’d die on impact. Going far too fast for the tracks to handle, the trolley was thrown to its side on the street. The outlaw was hurled forward before falling to his side. “Jesus…” He groaned, crawling out of the streetcar.

Dutch remained where he had been tossed, holding his head in his hands. “Dutch?” Arthur yelled as he reloaded his gun, firing back at the police as they swarmed them from all sides.

Dutch moaned something intelligible to the gunners. “We need to get him out of here. You still alive, Lenny?” Switching to his rifle, Arthur began aiming for the lawmen on the balconies and roofs of the buildings.

“I’m here! I’m okay, but we got to move fast. Pinkertons are definitely gonna catch wind of this,” Lenny shouted from behind some crates. Spitting out a string of curse words, Arthur angrily pushed forward while Lenny helped Dutch.

He should’ve never gone with Dutch on this job. Dutch had trusted Angelo Bronte was telling the truth when in reality he had been stringing them along. They were idiots to think the Italian man would let them take money from the city he owned. Most of all, he was angry with himself.

It must’ve been noon by then. If you had completely lost your sanity, you would’ve been waiting for him where he told you he’d be. If you hadn’t already been mad as hell with him before, you had to be now. He should’ve listened to Hosea when he had the chance.

“There’s a wagon up over there. If you cover us I think I can get Dutch in the back,” Lenny suggested, to which Arthur quickly agreed. Arthur proceeded to fire back at the police, allowing Lenny the chance to move a groggy Dutch into the wagon. Briskly following behind, Arthur jumped onto the wagon. The horses were quickly startled into pulling them forward while the police scurried to catch up to them.

They maneuvered the wagon as efficiently as they could with all the obstacles in their way, leading Arthur to wonder if word had gotten to you by now. He would rather you unleash your anger on him than be disappointed in him. God, your disappointment killed him. Arthur hated to be anything less than the man you deserved, but time and time again he seemed to always fall short.

“Arthur! They shot off our wheel!” Lenny held a tight grip on the reins, struggling to keep control before ultimately crashing into an alley. Dutch thankfully hadn’t been too affected by the crash, but was definitely unfit to fight off anyone.

“Take him and get out of here. I’m gonna lead em’ away.” Arthur placed a hand on Lenny’s shoulder. “Keep him safe.”

Giving a quick nod, Lenny dragged Dutch away until they were out of sight. Arthur ran the opposite way, taking the attention of the few lawmen that remained on their tail. He eventually killed them off one by one until he was left aching on the floor clutching his side.

“Ah, shit,” He hissed, hunching over as he got up. A bullet had grazed his side at some point in his long fight with the law and the adrenaline coursing through his veins hadn’t allowed him to notice until that point.

Huffing, Arthur leaned against the wall staring down at the men he had killed. Was it realistic to believe they could actually make it out alive to Tahiti? As much as Arthur wanted to believe him, he saw no reality where Dutch would be happy as a mango farmer. The outlaws’ quick tempers would inevitably lead to someone dead in the street.

“Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.”

He hadn’t gotten much money from the heist, but he did have a few trinkets in his satchel that were worth good money. It might be enough to help the pair of you get away while the police were still searching. God, with you he could try to be a better man. He could find a real job, one that wouldn’t leave a target on your backs. Or you could go off into the woods and let your only company be the deers–he’d go anywhere, do anything, if it meant he would be by your side.

Breaking his heart from knowing who he’d be leaving behind, Arthur made the decision to be loyal to what truly mattered to him.

Stumbling away, Arthur forced himself to fight the ache in his bones to get to you. It was no guarantee you’d still be there–if you were ever there at all. No, he didn’t have time to let himself doubt. Weaving through the backstreets full of passing immigrants until he was forcibly grabbed and pulled to the side. Before he could whip out his pistol, your voice stopped him.

“Arthur! Oh, thank god you’re alright! You stupid man, I had no idea where you were and I was looking all over–”

Before you could ramble any further he pulled you against him and embraced you tightly, ignoring the pain. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, letting your suitcase fall to your feet as you took him in. He was alive. Your Arthur was alive–seemingly hurt–but alive nonetheless.

“You stupid man.” You murmured into his chest, earning a low chuckle from your lover. “S’fine. We’re gonna be okay.” Arthur pressed a shaky kiss to your temple. He could finally breathe again.

“We need to get out of here. You’re hurt–you need help.” You pulled back to examine him, a worried look spreading across your face. “Arthur–” He stopped you with a kiss, taking you by shock.

“M’sorry. I’ve been waiting for so long I didn’t know when I’d get to do that again.” If he’d ever get to do that again. Resting your forehead against his, you let a moment of silence pass. You were together again.

Despite his struggle, Arthur picked up your suitcase and led you to the outskirts of the city, dodging the policemen as best as he could. He had to do his best to avoid trouble now because he held his entire world in his hand. Arthur was responsible for taking care of you now and he’d damn well shoot himself in the foot before he let anything happen to you.

“Is this really happening? I can’t even believe it…I love you Arthur. I’m still mad you were dumb enough to try shooting your way out of the city, but I’ll be mad at you later.” You squeezed his hand with a giddy smile on your face.

“I’ll do better. I…I want to do better for you. I love you.” He gave you a small smile. You spent the rest of the walk to his horse out of the city telling him all the things you wanted to do now that you were starting your lives together.

He could spend the rest of his life listening to you talk. Hanging his hat on the wall, leaving his criminal lifestyle would be hard to leave behind, but for you he’d do it a million times over. He’d do anything to make you happy and now he finally could.

#arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #Arthur Morgan fluff #Arthur Morgan appreciation #arthur morgan x female reader #we love cowboys here #Arthur Morgan I love you

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sterkeyra · 1 month ago

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Ryo Haruki - Main Story Walkthrough

After Kento, we finally got the story of our remaining childhood friend as well. Given that Ryo was a really good wingman and helped to communicate between the two in Kentos route, i was very excited to learn of his story as well.

While Kento symbolizes the night, Ryo has the sun theme going for him, both with his golden locks as well as his sun earrings and necklace. While he is also a very smiley person, there is more behind that smile and he has quite the loose lips once noone is watching anymore. His snarky comments can bite, and you cannot always understand why he behaves the way he does because he hides behind masks and is able to switch relatively fast.

MC herself is used to put on a fake smile due to her toxic ex, so she watches with worry and wonders if it isn't exhausting to Ryo. However, compared to MC Ryo does not just let other people trample over him, he builds connections with intent and not just out of good will. So the story is built on MC switching between past memories and present scenes to fathom what the true Ryo is actually like, since he was a crybaby in the past, but behaves much different now. At the same time she has to find out what she should do from now on to get back on track, after she lost everything to her ex.

If i had to summarize the story, I would have to say that both of them struggle and they help each other to overcome their bad habits.

His harsh comments sometimes reminded me of Shinonome, because said man could be quite sweet as well. He can sometimes act more childish however, so maybe he has a bit of Tsugaru in him too (totally not saying that because i'm biased) but my radar suspects there is more hidden in Ryos pov so I will wait for that :D Voltage mentioned that fans of for example Ryoichi Hirose from Seduced in the Sleepless City, Hayden Spencer from Be My Princess 2, Haruka Utsunomiya from My Forged Wedding or Keita Mitsuura from Irresistible Mistakes. Tsugaru was also on the list *cough'

Anyways enough for now, read and see for yourself whether Ryo might be for you too.

As i've seen a few people overexaggerating the prices i've decided to make a min budget walkthrough where you can get SHE and all CGs for about 147 ❤️. If you buy hearts via their webshop you might get it for about 14$. It's possible there's a way to get it cheaper, i did not try many alternatives.

Here as promised the guide, just choose the ✨ options for the budget guide:

Ryo Haruki - Main Story

16 LM needed for HE 23 LM needed for SHE

Min amount for HE 90 ❤️ Min amount for SHE 147 ❤️

Total amount of hearts for all choices: 195

My suspicions (Slight SPOILER):

There were some scenes where Ryo acted a bit immature that made me raise by eyebrows. Especially given how close Kento and Ryo are, I could not understand why Ryo was so insistent of MC tagging along, when MC just stated her worry about Kento. I mean I figured what he wanted to show her ( and that it's a once in 20 years opportunity), but his reaction was quite immature and unprofessional even. I know he did not really mean it and just said so out of affect, but it gave an insight in him still being hurt or maybe even a crybaby like in the past. My prediction for the POV is that we will see more of Ryos childhood and how he was affected when MC moved away. I think he might have seen reflections of his parents abandoning him, when it happened so he tried to hold onto MC even more tightly. I also have the suspicion that he was so snippy with MC at the start, and asked when she would leave again because he tried to keep her at arms length, especially with her still wearing her exes engagement ring. Once she tells him the truth there was a change in him kind of :D Anyways we shall see

CGs

Here's the outlook on the CGs to check what you can look forward to, full resolution in the app! Give him a try if childhood friend tropes are your thing! Though I'd say please be patient with him. If he truly is similar to Tsugaru, I would wait for the POV to be released as well for better understanding, because Ryo is an enigma as well sometimes😄

#ryo haruki #voltage inc #voltage otome #love 365 #can we start over #otome game #kento kuroe #ayumu shinonome #takaomi tsugaru #ryoichi hirose #haruka utsunomiya #hayden spencer #keita mitsuura #be my princess #my forged wedding #irresistible mistakes #l356

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adaptacy · 11 months ago

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The General Drow's Celebration {1/2}

Pairing: General!Minthara x Durge!AFAB!Reader

{Part 2}

Warnings/Tags: !!NSFW!! MDNI. BG3 Act II Heavy Spoilers. Minthara is, uh, evil. Exhibitionism, minor foodplay, bloodplay sorta (but its not either of yours), straight-up murder (also not either of you), general cultish things. Mention of poison. Part 1 doesn't include the actual smut but it will happen in part 2! Which I'll finish writing... eventually. Some Drow/Undercommon terms are used, I'm not super familiar I just looked shit up, there's a glossary thingy at the end. :)

Word Count: 3.4k

“Pitiful display. Bold of you to slight me so poorly. Your loyal fleet has been charged on account of your mistakes. Each throat slit. Yours is next.”

“Please, Nightwarden, you do not–”

“Silence,” she cuts back, crossing one of her legs over the other, her stern gaze intimidating even if it wasn’t backed by a history of bloodshed. “Abysmal absence of respect. Treacherous.”

“Shall we admit them to the cells?”

The drow snickers, waving her hand in a quick snap. “A waste that would be. We need the space for more valuable criminals. Slaughter the underling,” she commands, and the executioner raises the blade, but her palm lifts, and the order is paused. “No. Throw them to the shadows. Let them fend against the forsaken.”

“As you command, General,” the man replies, dipping his head and gathering up the chains that bind the betrayer’s wrists, dragging the pleading goblin out of the hall.

At last, it is empty. The line of criminals, cultists, and true souls sorted through. Another day comes to an end with the drow on the throne, another day bearing the late Ketheric’s title, wielding his power, and fate spins along as it should, weaving her pristine web of influence.

“General,” you hum, taking the opportunity to sit on the stone arm of her claimed throne, and she turns her head to look at you, a proud, passionate fire behind her eyes.

“Glorious, isn’t it, my love?” Minthara raises her hand and her slender fingers dance on your chin, feigning a gentle touch before she grips it, her thumb pressing into your jaw as she yanks you closer, her fanged grin growing. “Do you wish to taste the power?”

You smile in return, holding her gaze until she eyes your lips, the pride in the red of her eye soon joined by a similarly hued lust. You stay quiet for a few extra moments before finally responding. “I would like nothing more.”

Her tongue runs over her bottom lip before she pulls you closer, the kiss teasingly tender, and she breaks it in an instant. “Drink it in. My power is yours, dark one. Together, we reign.”

You inch forward, attempting to meet her lips again, but her grip grows more firm, and she forces you to remain stationary. “Nobody else is here,” you whisper, glancing between her lips and her eyes, and her gaze lifts to yours as she smirks.

“Precisely. How shall I lay claim to my property without an audience? You are too exquisite to be concealed,” she whispers, her words catching on your lips, her breath only serving to tease you further. You feel the faint sting of her poison, and it only drives you to deepen your yearning. “Tonight, we will feast. A new age of True Souls shall be celebrated. And I will claim you before our guests. You will be desired by all, but earned only by me. My slayer. My pet. My oloth.”

“He would be proud,” you praise, inching closer to her with your body, though your head remains still.

“I’m inclined to agree. A shame his sacrifice was a necessity. As is the cycle of hierarchy,” she states, releasing your chin, but pulling her own head away before you have a chance to take advantage of the freedom of movement. “We will coddle a new generation of warriors. Not with affection, but dedication. Swaddle them in viscera and nurse them to victory.”

“We’ll raise a force of blood-bringers,” you agree, and Minthara smirks, huffing out an amused exhale.

“Blood-bringers. A marvelous title for a marvelous army.” The drow presses her palms to the stone arms and pushes herself up, standing before the empty room. “Sine Thelids, we will be.” You feel an uncanny itch in your palms, and you shift uncomfortably. Your tadpole squirms, and Minthara lowers her head, sensing your edge. “Control, my slayer. We will march soon. The world will be ours – all thralls along with it. You will have your vengeance, and I shall have mine. Havoc will come to Orin, but it is the blood-bringers she will fear.”

“We will claim her life,” you second, standing up as well and joining her side, watching her as she looks over the empty throne room. Many times, she’s been seated off to the side. Only ever gazing at the throne that Ketheric so often sat in. With your help, however, her placement had changed. Rightfully, she had taken his power, his lead, just as you had helped her take his life. Ketheric was the first to fall, but he would not be the last.

“They shall bow to us. Each and every one. Extinguish their lives, and ignite their influence. We will be almighty,” she purrs, her chin tilting up ever so slightly, red eyes scanning the room one final time before she turns back to you, and holds out her hand. “Come. We must prepare for the banquet.”

It came as no surprise that Minthara had already planned an outfit for you; she had a plan for the banquet, and she intended to follow it through perfectly. That required your cooperation, even in the slightest of details. You weren’t complaining – it was a fine choice she’d made. Less surprising still was the nature of the clothing.

A personally tailored leather clasp for a neck piece, attaching to a particularly revealing shirt, cut with a wide triangle down the middle of your torso, leaving little to the imagination. You didn’t mind. Chances are, nothing would be left to the imagination by the end of the gathering, so you were going to take what you could get.

You clean yourself up of any lingering grime from the day, enjoying a short but relaxing bath before dressing yourself up in the clothes she had prescribed to you. Once you’re sure that you’re ready, you make your way downstairs to the audience hall, where Minthara waits at the bottom of the stairs, her hand offered to you as you approach.

It would be an understatement to say that suppressing a smile was difficult – pitted against her appearance, your physical display of enjoyment was far out of your control. Minthara was the type to look good in anything, though she usually stuck to her usual dark drow armor and her black, rigid evening clothes.

Tonight, however, was special. Her outfit reflected that in a way that almost took you by surprise.

Both of you were well-aware of the possibility of an attack. Not an attack on Moonrise, not an attack on The Absolute, but an attack on Minthara – with Ketheric the unkillable now, against all odds, gone and dead, there was sure to be turmoil between the higher ranking members of the cult. Minthara had been the one to dethrone him, to rob him of his power and his breath, and thus she had claimed his authority.

Not everyone was so willing to allow such an opportunity to slip out of their grasp. Z’rell had been taken care of even before Ketheric, as she posed the most significant threat. A few others, too – mostly those who had previously disrespected Minthara, made to pay their dues in the light of her new title.

Tonight, she would feast with potential enemies. Betrayers. She may feast with attempted assassinations, and it was unlikely the night would sail without bloodshed.

You did not expect a full suit of armor, but you had expected something more protective than the clothing she had decided upon. Her upper arms and shoulders were well-guarded with black leather shells, attaching to an equally thick leather that ran down her sides, though where defense mattered most – her abdomen, the simplest and most lethal place to strike – her purple skin was left revealed to the world.

Her legs were wrapped comfortably in black pants, and you know immediately that this is not an oversight on her part. Hardly so. It is a test. An offering – an opportunity for her silent enemies, her weakest spot left vulnerable to their hunger for power, a surefire bait. Minthara had not forgotten about her endangerment. She embraced it. Welcomed it. Challenged it.

“It fits,” she states, smirking as you take her hand in your own and step carefully down the final few steps, allowing her to drink in your appearance just as you had soaked in hers. “A good thing. I wish no harm upon our tailor – I have already removed his tongue, but I suspect he may need his fingers to continue his work. A troublesome ordeal seeking out a new tailor would prove,” she chuckles.

You turn to face her, and she takes your other hand as well, her red eyes judging your expression. “You look nice as well, General,” you praise, not bothering to hide your wandering gaze as you trail over her chest, the bra piece more than familiar to you. You dare to lift a finger, pulling your hand from hers, and snake it under the band over her sternum, pulling it down ever so slightly, your temptation getting the best of you.

Her slender fingers trace up your wrist, wrapping around and pulling your hand up to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back of it. “We shall be objects of desire tonight. Some may see vulnerability. It is in that liability we find our strength. Neither harm nor pleasure shall be brought upon you unless it is by my hand. That is an assurance.”

“They worship our power. Soon, our bodies alongside it, yes?” You ask, and Minthara smirks again, giving your hand another kiss.

“Our power. Our lethality. Our bodies. And we will worship one another.” At last, she releases your hand, and it returns to your side, though she still holds the other one. Gently – hardly afraid of losing you, or allowing you opportunity to slip away, for she knows you are hers, and she is yours. It is for that same reason that you don’t tighten your grip around her fingers. There is ample security and assurance without the need for a strong hold. Her gaze shifts to large wooden double doors, where light shines through the crack at the bottom. “Our squadron awaits. Ah,” – Minthara tilts her head – “Our blood-bringers.”

Providing a controlled nod in response, she leads you into the banquet hall, the table already arranged with the offerings of a feast, and ‘True Souls’ line the longer sides of the table, and at the head there are two empty chairs. Empty, that is, until Minthara guides you towards them, and you take a seat at one while she stands in front of the one beside you, releasing your hand in order to address the group.

You know everyone stationed at the table, though you aren’t quite familiar with all of them. You know each person’s name, but not everyone’s current rank, or how they served Ketheric during his reign. Those who you do immediately recognize consist of The Warden, who’s standing remains unchanged, the halfling Linsella, who has been granted an increase in authority, with Minthara permitting her reign over verified prisoners and hostages, allowing her to convert said captives as she pleases. Sitting two seats to your left is the skilled spy Marcus, who you recall once yearned to be the right-hand of the late general. As far as you’re aware, he has remained a mere spy, but high in the ranks nonetheless.

“A waste of precious time it would be, were I to spare words of mourning for Thorm,” Minthara announces, all eyes pinned on her, save for yours. “He served well, but he serves no more. I plan no delegation over the loss. We move forward, as the Absolute commands,” she continues, and the True Souls each dip their heads, murmuring out quiet agreements; ‘In Her name.’

She does well to hide the truth. You have always admired her, both for her prevalence in battle and her combined willingness and capability to achieve further power where she sees possibility. Few manage to look past morals as she does, few are as earnestly eager as she is with their dreams.

Her faith was crushed, the truth revealed in ways that would desecrate any other’s ambition, had they been in her shoes. Alas, she is Minthara of house Baenre, and she seizes opportunity the moment it presents itself. With one stone in her grasp, and an oblivious, willing army at her disposal, she poses a far larger threat to the other chosen than they may have ever thought possible.

“You sit in his throne,” A man speaks up, two chairs to your left – Marcus, the spy, “You serve his meals, you command his troops, and yet you disrespect his name wholly.” He speaks with a growl, and dares to rise, making his intentions clear to the room, his target included.

Minthara pulls her torso back, and she meets his eye, her palms resting flat on the table. No longer hidden beneath the table, a greatclub is grasped tightly in his right hand, his knuckles tinted white from the tension in his hold. “Ketheric disrespected his name to far greater lengths than I would ever have the words to manage. And so creatively, too,” she chuckles, her tone brimming with clear-cut confidence, and although you attempt to reassure yourself, you feel your heart skip a beat, momentarily silently fearing for her safety. You see no daggers, no means of defense on her person, and yet she smiles all the same.

Marcus scoffs, grimacing, leaning towards the drow, the fire in his eyes fueled entirely by resentment. “Attempt no trickery by mouth – Our General wanted you disposed of, and I intend to carry out his orders as my final judgment by the Absolute.”

“Pathetic. Loyalty to a dead man serves no greater purpose – only a grave.” Minthara sneers, her next words joined by a tone of stable, smooth mockery, “Do you expect him to rise again? Fulfill his wishes, and his head will roll back onto the neck I severed it from? The Absolute has already judged you well and true. I’m afraid your devotion is tardy. Had you served him so faithfully while his corpse was animate, perhaps he may have led a longer rule. Alas, I shall reward your allegiance, and reunite you with your Bossk.”

Marcus’ scowl pulls wrinkles in his forehead, his arm twitching – the split-second jerk being movement enough to warn Minthara of his next move. He charges, raising his greatclub, eyes pinning a target on her skull. You’re not granted a chance to so much as flinch before Minthara retrieves a dagger from its place in a sheath attached to the bottom of the table, raising her arm as the blade is precisely swiped across the man’s throat, spraying the immediate area in his blood.

That immediate area being you, Minthara, the two True Souls sitting closest, and part of the prepared meal on the table.

The spy’s body falls with a final gurgle, and Minthara spins her blade to capture it in a firmer grip, her blood-kin gaze serving a silent order to the stunned audience. “Rath’arg. Do any other false believers wish to challenge me? To take my head would be a grant of my authority. Do strike now, daring lambs, for tonight I am willing to grant mercy and bestow quick deaths upon traitors.”

Her breath is steady – she is not tense, but firm, and the True Souls exchange glances with one another, each and every one remaining silent and submissive. Though her fine attire is splattered with the blood of a betrayer, she remains unphased. True to her mission, allowing no room for distractions, nor for doubt.

When she is assured, she sets her dagger on the table beside her, and she dips her head. “Very well. Feast, warriors, for we need our strength. In Her name,” she states, her eyes closing for only a moment.

“In Her name,” the party recites, beginning to indulge themselves in the food less affected by the close death, but Minthara turns instead to you, her own personal repast, free from the intermingling of her underlings. The True souls speak, quietly, amongst one other – discussing the Absolute, the rise of their new General, and similar such topics.

Her bloodied purple hand is offered to you, and you accept, rising from your seat at her physical request. Few eyes are drawn to you, for the time being – you don’t bother to take count, to truly decipher how many pay attention to your activities. Minthara pulls you closer, her free hand cradling your jaw and wiping Marcus’ blood from your lips, allowing her to kiss you without risking a taste of the coward. For a short moment, the contact is broken, and her nose brushes with yours, gaze intense with a roused lust from the bloodshed. “However intense our reign may become, however great our influence grows, know that at the center of my drive is where you lie. You are mine, as I am yours. We are bound as one – in body, in soul, in power.” There’s a pause in which you make an attempt to reconnect your lips, but she pulls back, her mouth instead moving towards your ear, her tone lowering to a whisper, ensuring only you may receive her message. “Bow as we may to the Absolute, pray as we may to their lies, you are my true quar'valsharess. My deity, and mine alone.”

Knowing how much she risks by admitting that in a room full of the Absolute’s followers, however quiet of an admission it was, is more than enough to make your heart flutter, stomach pleasantly uneased by a disturbance of butterflies. You pivot as a hand on your hip guides you to press your back against the edge of the table, and the dishes behind you are pushed aside, likely much to the dismay of the nearest True Souls. Minthara’s lips trail over your lightly bloodied neck, no longer caring whether or not the blood invades her taste, merely enjoying the flavor of her success on your skin.

While she delivers no verbal commands or physical guidance, you understand her intentions well enough to assist her in carrying them out. So, you lift yourself onto your ankles and hop just enough to steady yourself on the table, immediately finding that she invades the space between your legs, bringing her hips closer to yours. Her kisses continue to trail down, littering every available space that her selected clothing allows her to access. Hands run along your sides, caressing over the full length twice before they linger on the sliver of skin between the top and bottom pieces of your outfit. When her mouth reaches that section as well, your leather pants are dragged downward, shedding her territory of protection, vulnerable to her touch – to her command.

When they bunch at your knees, thighs against the wooden table, your only means of defense being your thin, weak layer of underwear, Minthara pauses, standing up straight once more. A hand presses to your chest, pushing you backwards, though your hips remain stationary – you lay back, displayed across the bloodied feast as if you were one with it. All eyes are on you, now, but Minthara’s attention is the only attention that matters to you. Even if you don’t threaten to disobey or refuse, her palm is firm on your chest, forcing you to keep position.

“True Souls,” she addresses, instantly gaining the room’s undivided interest. “Speak my title.”

“General Minthara,” the audience replies, and her smirk grows, revealing flashes of her hungry teeth.

Louder, she repeats; “Speak my title.”

“General Minthara!”

Her hand slides up your body, finding purchase around your throat, and she meets your gaze, her prideful smile meant entirely for you. “Tonight, we celebrate two deaths. The death of Late General Thorm, and the death of The Nightwarden. Indulge in the wine and feast as you deem fit – a rebirth occurs this evening. A rebirth of values. A rebirth of power. A rebirth of The Absolute.” Her gaze lifts, meeting the intrigued smiles of her soldiers. “Hear the testament of my reign – straight from the voice of darkness,” Minthara chuckles, eyes drawn once more to you. “Speak my title, dear oloth.”

With a lustful smile, you oblige; “General Minthara.”

“General Minthara,” she agrees, leaning over the table to meet your lips, hand tightening around your throat, robbing you of breath in the two ways she knows best.

(1) Oloth – Darkness (Drow) (2) Sine Thelid – Great Conqueror (Undercommon) (3) Bossk – Lord (Undercommon) (4) Rath’arg – Coward (Drow) (5) Quar’valsharess – Goddess (Drow)

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melinoelliones · 2 years ago

Text

You had frequently seen Chishiya around the city, however he was always alone and acting suspicious, not to mention you had formed somewhat of a crush on the guy. You were also quite curious about him but could never seem to get close enough, until fate brought you two to the same game. Maybe you could finally get some answers.

2.1K Words

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Warnings: Slight choking, mouth covering, guns and shooting, unprotected sex, cursing, teasing, sex with small plot, hickies, one night stand?, filling up, dubcon???

Hi again, third piece of writing <3. Hopefully i’m gettin better at this LMAO. I kinda tried to put this in the storyline so it isn’t too off brand i guess, this is episode 2 season 1 spoilers for those who haven’t watched. Also it kinda flops in the end.... sorry from now ya’ll

“Where the hell did he go? I swear just had him” you mumbled, kissing your teeth, you had been following Chishiya around the complex for a while now but it was almost as if he had poofed into thin air. Every corner you turned led to another empty walkway, where was everyone anyway?

Shuntaro Chishiya was his name but who was he? You had seen him around the city before but he was always alone and looked like he was up to something, not to mention he looked scarily similar to someone you had known back in highschool, but that's besides the point, he was unusual and you needed to know more, what secrets was he hiding?

You had brought it upon yourself to find out as much as you could about him from a distance, but since this was the first game with him you couldn’t let the opportunity to spy on him up close slip through your fingertips.

Strolling up yet another empty flight of stairs you froze, your eyes locked on the man with the horse mask who was now facing you head on, you felt as if time itself had stopped. Your blood ran cold as your eyes flickered to the large gun in his hand, “p~please don’t shoot, please”, you pleaded, maybe this could work?

You watched on as he started to march towards you, “should’ve assumed this shit wouldn’t work on you”, you sighed frustratedly rolling your eyes, it was worth a shot though. You slid the disk you had hidden in your sleeve to your palm, eyes glued to the masked man who was starting to pick up speed.

As he carelessly attempted to aim his weapon you struck your palms together, the disk emitting a strongly condensed cloud of smoke which started to fill the stairwell. In the midst of his confusion you slid past him, throwing the disks remains behind you as a distraction, hoping he would think you had tried to run back the way you came.

Had you really forgotten what you were doing here? Your life was literally on the line yet you allowed yourself to let your objective slip your mind due to a random man you were attracted to spying on? Maybe this wasn’t your brightest idea.

Darting down endless walkways, all that filled your ears were gunshots and blood curdling screams from below, your plan to get him off your back had worked but at the cost of whose life, countless thoughts flooded your head whilst you fled, paying no attention to where you were headed.

Breathlessly you came to a halt, you had hit the top floor, end of the hall, the only way out was to cross the open stairs but even then you’d be out in the open. As if a wake up call, the gunshots continued, the shells ricocheting off the walls echoing through the stairwell, with no other option you veered towards the last door on your side.

“This is gonna get me in so much trouble for fuck sake”, mumbling to yourself you tried to grab the thin piece of metal from your sock placing it into the keyhole, you had no clue if this would work but at this point there were no alternative options. Your hands trembling as the sound of the man's footsteps grew louder pacing up the stairs, “cmon dammit work”.

You vigorously shook the metal rod, all critical thinking had gone out the window as the realisation that you may actually die right here started to hit you. As that thought popped up you felt the handle click, you were in, without another thought you swung the door open stumbling inside, letting the door close by itself to avoid any further noise.

You cautiously glanced around the room, it was almost as if it were a movie set, blank walls, chipped wood floors and no furniture. “I guess they weren’t expecting people to just walk on in he~”, you were cut off by a hand covering your mouth, your heart now pounding through your chest, was it the shooter?

Why didn’t you watch the door close? How did they get to the room so fast? Why couldn’t you hear their footsteps? A million questions swamped your mind.

You winced as your head started to rise slightly exposing your neck, the calloused hand against your mouth was pulling you back. Your body tightening in fear as your bodies met . A hand weaved its way over your stomach as a pair of lips ghosted just below your ear, their breath sending tingles down your spine, “uh uh uh, now what are we doing here my love?”.

You knew that voice from anywhere, it was Chishiyas. You allowed your body to melt into his as your heart rate began to soften. You could relax a bit now knowing who it was, what could he even want with you anyway, either way you knew you had a means of escape if needs be, Chishiya was not the strongest person by the looks of it.

A faint moan slipped through your lips against his hand whilst he trailed his fingers down your lower stomach with the other, you unknowingly pressing your lower half against his. “What are you doing my love?..... Oh? You like this huh?”, he murmured against your neck, laying a kiss or two upon it. “So… is this why you were always watching me from a distance? Or are you hiding something there?”, your breath hitching as he questioned you, how did he know, you always did your best to keep to yourself and stay hidden.

“Didn’t think I noticed you hmm?”, you could feel the cockiness in his voice against your neck as his kisses became a bit rougher, those were definitely going to leave marks but you didn’t care. “I wasn’t watching you?”, you had to lie, if he was to do anything with that information who knows what the higher ups would do?

His fingers paused at your core, you could almost feel their presence hovering above, “lie” he murmured against your collar bone, pulling your head up with his hand. The grip on your neck tightening as you flinched slightly, the new bruises were tender. As he slowly began to rub you through your already soaked underwear he chuckled, “I won’t bite, you can tell me the truth”.

“Now who’s the liar, the sore spots on my neck didn’t come from nowher~” you hissed as he increased the pressure on his fingers, the friction from them and the fabric of your underwear against your clit edging you closer and closer whilst you lightly rocked back and forth.

Chishiya definitely knew how to use his hands, you were ready to give in just from him playing with you through your underwear. “Cmon pretty girl, no need to be so secretive. If it makes you feel any better I was also watching you too. How could a random girl pop up out of nowhere and manage to survive all those challenges alone, who are you?” he joked, chuckling whilst coming to a halt.

You groaned as the early built up tension in your stomach started to slowly fizzle out, “did you do all this just to tease me?”. “Oh? If you want me so bad, how about I give you the real deal?”, his voice echoed in your ear as he placed a single kiss on your nape before pressing you up against the door.

You gently slid your front down the door, sticking your ass in the air showing your dripping underwear. As you shook your ass slightly you heard him chuckle to himself, he pressed himself up against your hot core, you could feel him almost poking through his tracksuit bottoms. “Well? Do you, or should we go finish that game outside”.

Chishiya ran his hand up your leg as you longed out your response, “please, I want this” you purred. “Hmm, very well then”, without another word you felt him lift up your skirts hem, pulling your underwear to the side with his fingers.

“We may have to make this quick” he muttered, aligning himself at your core, “What did you say~ oh my god” you choked out breathlessly, Chishiya had gave you no warning before crashing himself fully into you, your walls adjusting around him, you did not expect him to be so big.

“Try to stay quiet for me okay”, he teased as you pressed back into him for support, you let out a faint “y~yes” before allowing him to place his hands on your hips.

Chishiya slowly started to rock back and forth allowing every inch of himself to be taken in, his tip crashing against your sweet spot with no mercy. “Fuck, thzt feels so good”, you cried out in between his thrusts, as you looked down you could visibly see the impression of his cock sinking in and out of you.

“Quiet, they’ll hear you my love” Chishiya laughed out leaning forward, your moans getting louder which each hit to your sweet spot. You knew the sounds of your bodies colliding along with the moans would definitely ring through the apartment complex but in the moment you didn’t care.

As he leant forward you could hear his faint moans in your ear, cursing under his breath as he swung his hand around to your lower stomach. “I’m getting close, I don’t know how much longer I can hold ou~” you whimpered as Chishiya ran small circles on your clit, your own whimpers cutting you off. He wanted to watch you writhe under him, of course you weren’t adverse to this idea though.

As your moans grew louder and more incoherent, the sound of gunshots began to emerge from the other side of the door bringing the reality of the situation back into your mind. You were still in a death game, both your lives were still on the line once those doors open.

“You know, its almost like you want them to hear you. Does them potentially finding out what we're doing turn you on hmm?” Chishiya questioned cheakily through his own moans, increasing the pressure on his fingers whilst you attempted to swallow down your moans. The ever growing knot in your stomach was at its limit.

Chishiya could feel you tightening around him, “go on, cum for me pretty girl” he cooed. As if on cue you let the knot unravel, however he continued to keep a steady pace inside of you longing out your orgasm. You could feel your knees trembling as your body was getting tired but his light grunts in your ear were enough to help you muster enough energy to hold on.

“W~what are you doing down there? Cheeky one aren’t you” Chishiya hissed as you threw yourself back onto him, your wetness helping you slide with little effort, the sound turning him on slightly. You wanted to make the most of whatever time you had left with him as who knows when an occasion such as this would arise again.

“C’mon then Chishiya” you mewled softly, you could feel him twitching so you knew he was close. His thrusts became inconsistent as he cursed in your ear, pulling you into him.

“Oh fuck” you gasped, stuttering slightly as you felt him release inside you, his breathe staggered whilst slowing down his strokes. Your legs trembled as he began to pull out, both of your warm releases mixing inside you. “Well would you look at that”, you could almost hear the smirk emerge on his face as he stepped back leaving you completely, pushing your underwear back to stop you from dripping.

“How about you keep that wet underwear on for me, don’t want you to forget what we did do we” he teased, you didn't oppose as of course you wanted to remember this moment. Chishiya gave you a hand as he lent you against a free wall in the room.

Placing his hand on your chin he took in your heated face, “I still have an objective here and I also refuse to lose this game so my work here is done”, Chishiya stated plainly, showing zero emotion as he went to exit the room. Was that it?

You let out a faint sigh, steadying yourself against the wall as you also did have to finish the game at some point. “Hey!” he burted out in the doorway, “try to stay alive will you? Trust me, we have more to discuss, maybe you’ll be useful to me”, his eyes softed whilst closing the door behind him.

He wants to meet again? Perfect, attached or not you also had a mission. Chishiya showing emotion was not what you expected but it would definitely get you a pass when the higher ups ask how you got in this room in the first place. Your plan was going in the right direction. Playing the innocent card always worked on your average players but you expected more from him, maybe you could become his weak spot.

You grinned to yourself as you made your way to the door, “till next time Chishiya”.

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alexxncl · 7 months ago

Text

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 30 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 2 | lesson 29 | lesson 31

normal and hard

slight og lesson 16 spoilers

baby you can't cook...it's that simple

i feel like mc has to have said something about his cooking to him before and he just forgot bc there's no way he doesn't know he's actually the worst "chef" to grace all three realms and the otherworld (is that what thirteen's realm is called ???)

YOU DON'T SCARE ME BITCH ! NEITHER OF YOU ! YOU NEVER HAVE

unless we count that one scene in og season 1 where luci grabbed mc outta nowhere and threatened them when they kept being nosy. but intimidation isn't fear imo 😤

...and when belphie literally killed them, but i wasn't scared. just caught off guard and powerless bc of a lack of sorcerer training but NOT scared

also them treating beel like a kid who can't make his own decisions is both funny and frustrating from a sibling stance bc yes, he's their baby brother, but he's also a grown ass demon who absolutely can make his own decisions

satan was born like 2 days ago so i ESPECIALLY don't wanna hear nothing from him /j

i bet mammon lost bc of some dumb shit too 😭 levi probably asked him "do you look up to lucifer" and he was like "WHAAAAT no i'm only around him all the time because i like annoying him...not because i adore him and wanna be like him when i grow up or anything...what are you talking about"

BYE he's obsessed 😭 childish too

like openly trying to kill luci and mc by acting like everyone likes solomon's cooking is abominable behavior

oh...oh no :(

I FEEL SO BAD like why couldn't we just say "it's not for me...raphael might like it though" i hate the devs actually

HE LOOKED SO SAD i'm gonna kay em ess

i hate this game...why were the only two options lies ?? why did we even HAVE options ??? like he literally could've just sprinted to his room to spare himself the embarrassment or mc could've said smth like "we promised to keep it a secret so he can't show you"

WHY WOULD THEY MAKE MY SON CRY

telling solomon the truth didn't even matter atp

...so telling solomon the truth was EVEN MORE pointless than i thought i hate it here

levi :(((((((

the emotional whiplash this game is giving me is NOT good for my health

brb gonna go cry my eyes out

(i didn't have enough picture space to talk about the hard lesson, but dia and luci getting payback on mephisto by making him eat solomon's cooking was PEAK comedy)

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nights-legacy · 9 months ago

Note

Rachel

Nickname ( honey

Toshinori Yagi( my hero academia

She

My chacter is a pro hero her hero name is siren her quirks are she has the ability to control men women and creatures and make them do whatever she wants and she can control water she teaches at the ua and her and Toshinori Yagi like eacthother she younger then him she around Aizawa age she bff with him and mic anyway her and toshinori dance around eacthother alot and act like a married couple but they don't start dateimg till after the league of villans attack usj center and Toshinori finally confess to her and they start rk date he treats her like a queen when he retires she stays being a hero until after the war with the league of villians when Toshinori ask her to marry him and she says yes and she tells him she also pregnant *

Here you go! I hope you like it!! 😁

Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

Give You So Much More - All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem! Reader

1923 words

Warnings: none except slight spoilers if you haven't seen MHA. (If there is any, please let me know so I can add.)

+Yagi and Siren have played the cat and mouse game ever since they met. Yagi never made a move because he thought he was too much her senior. They flirt on the constant nothing ever comes until after the USJ incident. The scare motivates him to confess.

"Who do you think for class roasters?" I asked effectively starting the meeting. Deliberations started up. We were in the days between the Entrance Exam and announcing to the students about admission.

"I want Bakugou and Iida in 1-A, no question." Aizawa said. No one argued with him. We all made notes.

"What about Monoma Neito and Midoriya Izuku?" I asked. I saw Yagi perk up and looked at him. He hadn't shown that much interest in the whole time we've been sorting. I lightly kicked him for his attention. He looked at me and I raised my eyebrow in question. He gave me a smile and waved me off.

"I'll take Monoma. He's got a great quirk but needs some humbling." Vlad said. "I think Midoriya should be in 1-A."

"No." Aizawa denied immediately. Everyone made a complaint. I saw Yagi deflate a little.

"Aizawa, he had the highest rescue score. In all my years working here and when I went here, I don't ever remember someone getting a perfect in rescue." I defended the young man. I shared a look with Yagi. "Sure he didn't do well in combat but that can be taught. That can be learned. His fervor to rescue can't be. He has amazing potential."

"Siren..."

"No Aizawa. You need to give that kid a chance. He's got something special." I gave him a firm look. He sighed heavily.

"Fine. Midoriya is in class 1-A."

"Yes!" Mic cheered. There were others who gave sounds of excitement. I looked at Yagi and he looked relieved.

"Okay. Let's take a break." Nezu said. After a few minutes, I found Yagi outside. I walked up to him.

"Now tell me why I vouched for Midoriya so hard." I bumped my hip against his. He chuckled and looked at me.

"What do you mean?" He asked coyly.

"I mean, when he was mentioned you perked up and when Airawa said no, you deflated." I said. I poked his chest. He just smiled but he didn't answer. "Come on. Don't make me sing to make you tell me."

"Fine, fine." He glared playfully. "I just see something in young Midoriya. It kind of reminds me of a younger me."

"Uh huh..." I narrowed my eyes on him. He wasn't telling me everything. "Fine, don't tell me everything but I didn't lie when I vouched for him. I believe in him."

"Thank you." I nodded and turned to go back inside.

"You can thank me by buying me lunch."

"You got it!" He called after me.

*Time Skip*

After a long first day, I was alone in the teachers lounge. I was lazily stirring my tea free handed with my quirk. I was writing notes on the students' beginning progress. It wasn't the best for any of them but what do expect for a Criminal tactics and psychology class. I looked over my shoulder when the door opened.

"Hey there handsome." I said when I saw All Might. He smiled at me before in a poof, he was just Yagi again. "How was your first day?"

"It was decent." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Want some tea?" I ask. He nods. I got up and walked over to the cabinet to grab his favorite tea. "I can make it. You don't have to."

"It's fine." I said waving my hand at him. I waved my hand and water came from the facet into the kettle. I turned on the heat to start it. I went back to the table and grabbed my cup.

"How was your first day? How did they do in class?" He asked, stepping up closer as I leant against the side of the table. I took a drink of my tea.

"Only a handful of all of them had any idea of what my class was about." We chucked.

"Who were those few?"

"Todoroki, Iida. No surprise there." I laughed. "Monoma, Kuroiro... Oh, and surprisingly Kaminari." I said, glancing at my notes.

"Well at least you're not starting from scratch with everyone."

"You said it." I said. The kettle started to whistle. I set my cup down and walked over. I turned off the heat before realizing I didn't get a cup out. I sigh and open the cabinet. All the rest of the cups were on higher shelves. I stood on my tip toes to try and reach one. Before I could resort to climbing on the counter, a hand reached past mine and grabbed a cup.

"I got it." Yagi said softly behind me. I looked at him over my shoulder where he stood right behind me.

"Okay." I reached for his tea and handed it to him. He put it in the cup and I poured some hot water in his cup.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." We stared at each other for a moment. I bit my lip as my heart started to beat faster.

"You know, Rachel. I..."

"Siren!" Mic's voice echoed into the room and I sighed. Yagi coughed a little and stepped back. Mic and Aizawa walked into the teachers lounge. "Oh, hey All Might."

"Hi Mic." Yagi greeted before turning to fix up his tea. "Thanks for the Tea Rachel."

"No problem." I nodded and walked back over to the table. Yagi bid all of us goodbye before leaving the room. It was silent for a Minute.

"Sooo..."

"Don't even." I interrupted Mic. Aizawa laughed as Mic complained.

*Day of USJ incident*

The rest of the staff and I rushed towards the USJ. Upon hearing the story from Iida, we all jumped into action. After arriving, the main villains unfortunately got away. I had sung the remaining villains into custody and the police vans. I glanced over at the ambulance where All Might and Midoriya were at. I wanted to go check on him so bad but had a job to do.

"Go on." I turned to see Mic. "Go on and check on him. I know you need to."

"Fine. But only if you go with Aizawa." I say. He hesitated.

"Go you two. We got this." Midnight pushed us both in our respective direction. We didn't argue and ran off. Both Yagi and Midoriya were half conscious when I joined them in the ambulance. I accompanied them back to UA and I waited in the corner of the room until they were deemed stable and okay.

"You both are insane." I sat on a chair between them and propped my feet on the edge of Yagi's bed. "Being reckless with your quirk is almost identical in both of you."

"I, I, I. Um..." Midoriya started to stutter.

"Relax, Midoriya. I know about the quirk transfer."

"You do?!' Yagi asked surprised.

"Yes."

"How?!" Midoriya squeaked.

"I figured it out." I said. "I did a little research after the selection meeting. I wanted to know what was so special about you. To my surprise, you were quirkless until right after the Entrance exam. Then I studied your quirk from the footage and since then and noticed the similarities to a certain someone. Not to mention Aizawa being suspicious about you two and coming to me for my opinion."

"Oh..." I looked at Yagi.

"Also, All might here wasn't very sly about his concern and interest for you." I smirked at Yagi. He chuckled and nodded. "Don't worry your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you." They both said.

After a while, Midoriya was allowed to go home and it was just me and Yagi. It was silent as I made a phone call to check on Aizawa. I looked at Yagi to see him sipping of the tea I made him as I talked to Mic

"He's stable and resting." I said after hanging up the phone.

"Good." Yagi nodded. He looked off into space. I went and knelt next to him.

"What's on your mind?" I asked gently.

"That's the closest I have been to death since the accident." He said while placing a hand on his scar. "And all I could think about was making sure those kids were safe and how I never..." He trailed off.

"Never what?" I set my hand on his. He turned and looked me in the eye.

"Never told you how I truly felt about you." He admitted. I looked at him in anticipation, willing him to continue. "I have had feelings for you for a while. I was content with the flirting and dancing we have been doing. I never acted on my feelings because of our age difference and..." I cut him off by leaning up and kissing him. I felt him freeze for a second before returning the kiss.

"About time you said something. I was beginning to think it was just me." I admitted. He chuckles.

"Definitely not." He leant forward and kissed me sweetly. "Now how about after I heal up and rest, I take you on a proper date."

"Sounds amazing."

“I plan to give you so much, Honey.”

*Fast Forward*

I return home only to smell the familiar cologne in the foyer. I glance down to see Toshinori's shoes. I smiled and quickly kicked off my shoes to go find him. I found him on the balcony. He was just standing there with his eyes closed. I lean against the doorway.

"Darling?" I call out to him softly. He looks over at me and smiles.

"You're alright."

"Of course." I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. He pulls me into his side. "Everyone is. Maybe a little bruised and some with broken bones but we're all alive."

"Thank god." He buries his face in my hair. He sighed heavily. "It's over."

"Yes. At least for now."

"Yes." He nodded pulling back. "But I know the future is in good hands. Young Midoriya, Young Bakugou, and the rest will keep the world safe."

"I'm confident in them as well." I agreed. "Confident enough that I am thinking of retiring or reducing my time as a hero."

"Really?" He looked at me surprised.

"Yes. I've done my time. I'll continue to teach of course but I want to start a normal life." We stood there in silence before he pulled my chin up to kiss me.

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"I have a question for you."

"Okay."

"Marry me?" He said simply. I was stunned for a second before smiling. I kissed him softly. I didn't care that it was a simple proposal. I didn't need an extravagant proposal from the man I love. I just need the man.

"I would love to. Yes." He smiled wide and hugged me tight. I chuckled and hugged him back.

"You've made me the happiest man alive, Honey." I nuzzled his neck.

"Toshinori."

"Yes?"

"There is another reason I'm cutting back on hero work."

"What is it?" He asked, giving me a questioning look. I could see the worry growing in his eyes and on his face. I chuckled.

"Well." I took his hand and placed it on my stomach. He looks between his hand and my eyes.

"Are you ..."

"Pregnant." I nodded. "I found out just before everything. I didn't have time to tell you."

"Oh my..." I saw tears fill his eyes and he set his forehead on my shoulder. He laughed. "I never thought I would have any of this."

"Now you do. And I plan to give you much more." He lifted his head and looked into my eyes.

"I love you Rachel."

"And I love you."

Tag List: @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @lilparcheesie @keigos-baby-bird @evilunicorns4minions

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verai-marcel · 9 months ago

Text

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 19 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 3,707

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Act II, Chapter 7 - The Gauntlet

Even after he confessed, you realized that Astarion was still, well, Astarion. His feelings, though out in the open, were still a confused mess. If you were to describe it visually, it was a tangled ball of string; most of the strands felt like fondness, while there were a few threads that hummed with anxiety intertwined with lust. As if he felt bad for wanting you in such a way.

Not going to unpack that for now. It’s all too tightly wound together. I’ll let him unravel a bit more before I broach that topic.

On your end, you believed your feelings were pretty straightforward. You cared for him. You enjoyed spending time with him. Just the skinship, touching him, being touched, and sensing that feeling of him enjoying your company, without any ulterior motives, was incredible for you.

You imagined that other couples after confessing their feelings would be flinging their clothes off and having intimate relations in a secluded corner of their own little world.

Instead, you and Astarion were sitting by the campfire, your right arm linked with his left, the two of you reading quietly together.

“Is… is this alright?” he asked tentatively.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Yes, this is perfect.”

He leaned his head against yours. “I feel the same.”

Through your skin contact, however, you felt a slight twinge of guilt from him. Shit, if I say something now, he’s going to start questioning why I always know how he feels…

So you let it go, and just snuggled against him as he continued to read his book.

You had borrowed one of his books just so you could sit like this and spend some quiet time with him. You had few books of your own and you had read through them all at least twice. The book you had borrowed was some kind of adventure novel that featured a drow ranger.

Astarion glanced over at the page you were on. “Oh, you’re coming up to a good part.”

“Hush!” you chided. “No spoilers.”

“You two are being awfully cuddly.”

You both turned around to see Karlach smirking triumphantly.

“You snuck past my alarm on purpose,” you said accusingly.

She grinned. “Of course I did. Otherwise I would have missed this,” she said, pointing at your linked arms.

You could feel Astarion trying to pull away, but you only linked your arms tighter. “So? What of it?”

“Just glad to see you two finally out in the open,” Karlach said. Leaning in, she whispered to the two of you, though it was loud enough for others to hear, “Unlike another couple I know.”

You snorted, and Astarion grinned knowingly.

Looking past Karlach to see the others coming closer, you realized that you probably should do your job. “Alright, guess I’d better get food started.”

***

You were most certainly feeling better. After spending half the day quietly with Astarion, you felt like the pool of magic within you had almost refilled to full. You happily sang the tent cantrips while your rice porridge with herbs and dried mushrooms bubbled in the stew pot.

During the meal, your companions told you about their adventures, about how they met Balthazar, about how they discovered and solved three puzzle rooms, and about how tomorrow they would explore the rest of the lower levels.

“We’ll probably run into the devil down there,” Wyll mused. “We hadn’t seen any signs of it yet.”

“So perhaps all of you should go,” you said. At their shocked looks, you waved off their concern. “My magic has come back, and nothing came by today, not even a rat. Besides, Scratch and Owly can help defend the camp if anything happens.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about what you lot will run into down in the lower levels, given what you’ve told me.”

Lae’zel nodded. “Then I will train you more tonight, so that we may leave you tomorrow without concern.”

Oh boy. I’m going to be sore tonight.

***

You barely had the energy to change into your sleeping clothes. Falling into your bedroll, exhausted from Lae’zel’s training, you closed your eyes and groaned from your sore muscles. My gods. I cannot wait to fall asleep.

The soft footsteps of a certain elf drew your attention. Looking up, you watched Astarion kneel down beside you.

“Darling, you’re not thinking of staying out here, are you?”

“Too tired to think.”

He sighed dramatically. “But I confessed my heart and soul to you today. You will come to my tent, won’t you?”

Dragging yourself up, you grabbed your bedroll. “Haven’t had enough of my company?”

“Never, darling.”

You grinned as you walked with him to his tent. “Never say never,” you teased.

He held the tent flap open for you like a gentleman, ushering you inside. Laying your bedroll alongside his, you flopped down ungracefully. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Lae’zel put me through a thousand paces, so I need to rest.”

He chuckled as he lay beside you. “Did you sing?”

You blinked. “Oh. No, I forgot.”

“Hmm. Try it next time.”

“Alright. Sweet dreams, Astarion.”

He leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours.

I’m going to get addicted to this warm fondness I’m feeling from him.

“Did you know that elves don’t usually dream?”

“Oh?”

“Dreams are… chaotic, uncontrollable. Memories are bad enough,” he murmured.

You touched his face, stroking his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’ve only given me good memories so far. Well, except for when you got hurt.” He frowned. “So don’t do that again.”

You smiled. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He sighed. “Good enough, I suppose.” Reaching out for you, he pulled you close. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

You closed your eyes, and inhaled his unique scent, rosemary, bergamot, and a touch of brandy.

***

You awoke, cold and alone. Quickly getting up and changing, you saw that everyone was already getting their things together for the day’s exploration. Walking up to Astarion, you tapped his side with the back of your hand.

“You didn’t wake me up?”

“You were sleeping so soundly, darling. I’m not a monster.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Besides, Gale apparently wanted a chance to cook.”

“Shhh!” Gale hissed.

You glanced over at the stew pot. Seeing it mostly empty, you walked over and scraped what was left of the breakfast soup into a small bowl and sipped it. It was a delightful mix of spices and savory flavor, shreds of dried beef jerky mixed with some lentils and beans.

“This is amazing,” you muttered jealously. “Gale, give me the recipe when you come back!”

“What, and divulge my secrets?”

“Just do it,” Shadowheart said with a laugh, slapping him on the arm.

You chugged the rest of the soup and gathered all the dirty items for cleaning later. Just as everyone was ready to go, you headed to the entryway with them to wish them well. Astarion waited for everyone else to go past before he quickly pulled you in for a hug.

“Stay safe,” he murmured into your ear.

“You too,” you replied before the two of you pressed foreheads.

“We don’t have all day!” Karlach yelled gleefully.

Astarion just huffed and left with the rest of them, but not before giving you one last look.

You waved and smiled. Come back safe.

***

It was a long day and a half by yourself. You started counting the hours after you realized a full day had passed. You went up to Withers to check if they were all still alive, and he always nodded solemnly, with no other updates. So you just read books and cleaned and played with Scratch and Owly. You danced and practiced your cantrips for hours at a time. You slept in Astarion’s tent, rolling onto his bedroll and immersing yourself in his scent.

Am I being weird? It’s definitely weird. But… It makes me feel comfortable.

And they still had not returned. It was times like these where you wondered about the possibility of joining them on their adventures.

But then you remembered that you hated pain, and you had nowhere near enough battle experience to survive alongside them without being a hindrance.

Better to stay behind and tend camp. After all, if not me, then who will? Withers? Hah.

Wandering to the edge of the balcony overlooking the statue of Shar and seeing all the water below, you sang a song to coax a stream of water up to your level, filling up a few basins with water. Finding an empty barrel amongst the rubble, you plugged the holes with some clay and filled that up as well. But when you tried to move the barrel filled with water, it barely shifted.

You glared at it.

Move, damn you!

Your song became a chant, the tempo faster and stronger than you normally sang.

The barrel hopped two feet closer.

Oh?

You continued to chant, almost like a war hymn as you led the barrel away from the edge of the balcony, but after a few hops, you felt drained.

Okay, we’re going to stop there.

You looked through the pile of loot that the companions had dropped off the previous night and found enough rags and scruffy clothes that you could fashion a sort of curtain, hung by some old spear handles that you formed into a three sided divider screen, with the backside open to the view of the balcony. There was space to stand next to the barrel and still be hidden from view.

Well, that’s good enough, I think.

You went back to your pack and grabbed your soap bar and one of the water basins. Singing a hot water rune into existence, you heated the water in the basin, took your clothes off, and scrubbed yourself clean. After rinsing yourself off, you heated the water in the barrel before awkwardly climbing inside.

Damn, I should have made a seat in here.

Instead, you squatted down and let the hot water cover your head. Closing your eyes, you let the heat relax your body for a good ten seconds before you came back up for air. Grabbing the basin and emptying the water out of it, you pushed it under you and sat on it precariously, slowly leaning back until you felt balanced.

You let out a sigh of relief. It worked. Now you had a nice hot bath in the privacy of a little makeshift divider screen, and the others could take some time to relax as well when they came back.

If they come back.

Shaking the dark thought from your mind, you submerged yourself again and held your breath for as long as you could. It was only for 25 seconds, but when you came back out, you could faintly hear the alarm bells on your belt, hung over the divider.

Is it them? Or is it something else…?

Your heart raced at the thought of being naked while intruders came upon your camp.

I don’t hear Owly or Scratch.

A few more moments passed as you listened to footsteps echoing in the cavern. Then you finally heard your name being called.

Oh, thank goodness. “Over here!” you called out.

As you heard them walk over, you quickly realized that if they came around the screen, they’d see you naked. “Wait wait wait! Let me get my clothes on!” Quickly drying yourself with a towel for once and throwing your dress on, you came out to see them looking bloodied and exhausted.

“You look freshly washed,” Shadowheart said, the longing for a bath evident in her voice.

You grinned. “You can too, shortly. Come, come!” You showed everyone the bath set up, watching their expressions growing relieved that they could have a warm bath even in this darkened place.

“I’ll get food going,” you said as everyone else played rock-paper-scissors for who would go first in the bath.

You quickly threw together some cured meats and cheese together as an appetizer before putting some ingredients in the pot for a hearty stew, inspired by Gale’s meal yesterday morning. In a separate, smaller pot, you cooked some rice to go with it.

You tucked your wet hair behind your ears as you worked, and once you were done, you put your hands over your head and sang a quick drying cantrip that gently drew the water away without taking out too much moisture. If there was one thing you were a bit vain about, it was your hair, and you took good care of it.

The soft footsteps behind you seemed tentative, yet the cadence sounded familiar. He stopped directly behind you and gently grasped your shoulders.

“Welcome back, Astarion.”

He only hummed softly, one hand moving your hair to one side before dipping his head down to nuzzle your neck.

“You want supper now, or later?”

Astarion took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “Later, darling, when we’re alone.”

Your body reacted instantly to his lowered tone, but you quickly tamped down on it. You knew he had felt your rush of blood when his grip on your shoulders tightened just a little bit.

You turned and looked up at him, but he only had a soft expression as he looked at you. Reaching out and cupping his face, you searched his emotions as he leaned into your touch. You could feel mostly contentment with a strand of anxiety weaved within.

He finally backed away from you. “Until tonight, then.”

Dammit. I wish I could help him with his anxiety.

During supper, everyone took turns describing the battle with the devil to you. It was a very hectic fight, and it sounded like everyone was pushed to their limits. But their teamwork and their communication had grown so much that they pulled through in the end and defeated him.

“We even got Astarion to graciously say thank you,” Wyll joked.

Glancing over at him, you saw that he was looking a bit grumpy at being reminded about it. You snickered softly.

They continued to tell you about the rest of their adventure, and how they were feeling exhausted by the time they had finished exploring all of the rooms and gathering all of the orbs needed to activate the final elevator that would take them down to what they believed would be the final level of the Gauntlet.

“Tomorrow, we’ll end this,” Shadowheart said with determination.

With supper completed, everyone broke off to relax and turn in for the night. Astarion turned to you.

“I’ll go have a bath. See you in our tent, lover.”

Our? “Alright. Do you want me to make the water hotter for you?”

“Let’s go test it, shall we?”

Heading over to the bath with you, he dipped his hand into the water. “Seems adequate.”

You looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “But not perfect.”

“If you could…”

“Easy,” you said with confidence before singing a hotter water rune. Once it took hold, steam came out of the water. Turning around at the sound of shuffling clothing, you realized that Astarion was already stripping behind you.

“Astarion!” you gasped as you turned back around.

“You’ve seen all of me already, darling.”

That was only a glance, and it was in the middle of the inn. That doesn’t count. “Anyway I’m going back now byeeee,” you said in a rush as you nearly ran from him. His laughter followed you all the way back to the tent.

It was still a bit surreal to you, having your bedroll in his tent. You laid down and stared at the canopy, the red and gold fabric looking a bit dull in the dim light of your cantrip.

He won't mind if I do this, right? I wonder…

You sat up, put your hands up in the air, and sang.

Moonbeams and starlight,

Paint the sky above me,

Light up before my eyes,

A sparkly sight to see.

The fabric glittered for a moment then darkened, and pinpricks of light began to form in the darkness. You gestured with your hands purposely through the air as if you were weaving, and lights of different strengths and sizes, with different tints of color, populated the ‘sky’ you had created. You even created a full moon so that there was still enough light for you to see, but not too glaring.

Satisfied with your work, you lay back and stared up, feeling much less claustrophobic.

Astarion came in, shirtless and hair wet, with a seductive expression on his face, but then he looked up, and his expression changed to that of innocent wonder. To you, it was a much more attractive look on him.

His eyes were round with amazement as he looked at the ceiling. “This is… beautiful.” He sat down next to you and smiled. “You completely distracted me from my plan.”

“And what plan was that?”

“Convince you to dry and brush my hair for me.”

You snickered. “You only need to ask, no need for a plan.”

He gave you a smarmy smirk. “But if you offered it freely, I wouldn’t need to ask.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and gestured for him to sit in front of you. Getting up onto your knees, you sang your hair drying cantrip slowly, since his hair was finer and more delicate than yours. Then you gently brushed his hair, first with your fingers, then with his brush.

“Gods, your touch feels so good,” he murmured.

That line, in another context, would have made your face heat up. Even now, you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Glad you feel relaxed,” you mumbled, trying to push down any naughty thoughts.

He turned and took the brush from your hand. Slowly he ran his fingers up your bare arms, his eyes gazing at your body.

“Astarion?” you whispered.

Moving closer, he cupped your cheek. “You promised me supper, didn’t you?”

You nodded and tipped your head, exposing your neck.

Astarion leaned forward and licked your pulse. “Such an enticing treat,” he purred before he sank his teeth into your neck. With one hand gripping the back of your head, the other snaked around your backside and pulled you close, his body lining up with yours. You could feel the hard lines of his chest against your soft bosom, his muscled thigh resting between your legs.

You gasped softly as your hips moved on their own, searching for friction against him. But somewhere along the way, you realized that you had stopped feeling his emotions. Even with his fangs deep in your neck, you only felt the sting of your own flesh.

“Astarion—”

He released you from his bite, languidly licking your wound before he pulled back to look at you. Letting go of your head, he grabbed your bottom with both hands and pulled you harder against him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and nibbled at your collarbone.

“Darling,” he rumbled against your skin, “does this feel good?” His hands traveled up and down your body, a slow, sensual exploration.

“Y-yes,” you gasped when one of his hands trailed up to gently caress your breast, a finger brushing against your sensitive nipple.

Then you looked at him. His eyes were on you, but something about his expression seemed as if he was realms away. You cupped his face with both hands.

You felt nothing.

It was like a bucket of cold water when you realized he had shut down. You put your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. “I… I don’t think we’re ready for this.”

He looked hurt for a moment, and you could feel it through your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He shook his head. “It’s alright. I should have asked first.”

It’s not me I’m worried about. “That wasn’t it. You seemed… not all here.”

He blinked. Then he looked away, but you caught the misery in his expression.

You slid off his thigh and took his hands in yours. You were hit so hard with a wall of revulsion that you had to hide your gasp, acting as if you were taking a deep breath. “Astarion?”

He turned back to you with a sad expression. “I can’t help but feel… tainted.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Not by you, darling. You… you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want”—he pointed back and forth between the two of you—“this, to be real.”

He sighed dolefully. “But after two centuries of playing the rake… I just don't know what real looks like. Any kind of intimacy was just something I performed, to lure victims back…to him.”

You squeezed his hands and kept silent, nodding for him to continue.

“I want to be with you. I truly do. But these feelings of disgust and loathing… They keep coming up. And I don’t know how else… to be intimate… with you.”

Gods, I didn’t realize it was that bad. You let go of his hands and pulled him into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder. You carded your fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head. “You take all the time you need to work through this,” you said softly. “Just let me hug you, and I’ll be happy.”

Slowly, his arms came around you and hugged you back. “This is enough for you?” he asked hesitantly.

“More than enough. We’ll take it one step at a time, at whatever pace you need.”

His body, which had felt tense in the beginning, steadily relaxed in your arms. The feelings of revulsion and guilt slowly faded, replaced by a sense of relief and…

Safety? I’ve felt this from him before, when I asked for a hug in the Underdark…

You hummed a lullaby as you led him down to the bedroll and held him close, running one hand through his soft hair while you gently rubbed his back with the other.

“Is this alright?” you asked.

He nodded and pressed his face further into the crook of your neck.

You continued to hum your song until you felt him fall into a trance.

“Sweet dreams,” you murmured, kissing his forehead.

---------------------

Act II, Chapter 7 End notes: Some more soft and fluff, but soon, we’ll get out of Act 2. Only two more chapters to go before we start Act 3! And a bit of heads up, I'm going to be leaning more into that hurt/comfort tag in Act 3, so if you're squeamish about injuries (I am, so I won't be writing very descriptively, but painful things WILL be happening), just be warned now.

Tags List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

#bg3 #astarion x f!reader #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #female reader #writing #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home #astarion

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starsidesky · 7 months ago

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Let's just say that there's a couple of Baldur's Gate 3 characters who are currently living rent-free in my head. A situation that has stirred the writer in me. So here's a little vignette (honestly, I wasn't sure what to title this) about Isobel contemplating the aftermath of Act 2. (Potential spoilers)

Dust

For the first time in a century, the sound of mirth rings through Moonrise, and Isobel stands in near disbelief. Her thoughts are still racing on battlefield adrenaline. A small sleep-deprived fear trembles in her mind: the fear that this moment might be snatched away, that she might wake inside the Last Light Inn. Scorned by the realization that all of this was naught but a cruel dream. But one look at the sky and a solid pinch are enough to put her uneasy thoughts to rest.

The Harpers are enjoying some merry-making in the wake of their victory. Their strange new-found allies have generously offered to share their food and strong drink alongside whatever is deemed safe from the tower cellars. Aylin has eagerly joined in the celebration; her laugh is as magnificent as it is unmistakable. A hearty sound that carries throughout the towers like it had never left. The cleric decides it would be a crime to pull her angel away too soon. A hundred years caged in the Shadowfell had no doubt left her deprived of the most basic humane courtesies. She definitely deserves to celebrate.

Isobel draws a cold, shallow breath and stifles a coughing fit. The ale must be affecting her poorly, as the torchlight suddenly feels harsh to her eyes. She tolerates it for a while, but the celebrations get louder as the night goes on. Despite the lifting of the curse, the air in the hall feels muggy and suffocating, and a slight headache settles upon her brow soon after. All it takes is the drunken singing of a few dozen Harpers to persuade the cleric into the calm night air.

The moon from Moonrise had always been beautiful – a century couldn't hope to change that. But the same could not be said for Reithwin itself. Beneath the moonlight, the village Isobel had known so well seemed little more than a hollow shell.

A ghost, an echo of what once was.

At the center of it all stands the statue of her father, his expression listless and placid. The same way he looked when she first awoke.

A chill snakes down her neck.

She’s running barefoot, clad in cambric burial garbs, dodging creeping vines, and thorny brambles. White dots of lantern light chase after her; her father is amongst them. A mangled root catches her foot, and she tumbles downhill into a heap of thorns. Disoriented, she crawls away, pressing her back to a scraggly tree. Her lungs burn for breath, but no matter how much she gasps, her vision swirls with sparks.

Calling upon her goddess means risking discovery. Instead, she clasps a hand over her mouth.

The rumble of a galloping horse crests the hill, pulling her back to herself. The bony, half-rotted steed brays as it winds through the foul miasma. Her father screams from its back, sobbing, begging. His dark, anguished pleas echo through the marrow of her bones. She winces with every one, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

The sound remains burned into her memory. Sometimes, late at night, she thinks she hears it still. Isobel thanks Selûne that he did not find her that night.

Once more, she gazes over the ruins of Reithwin and her heart twists. She spent a century dead, while so many good people - people she knew - suffered and perished for want of one man’s grief. Yet here she stands, and they do not.

She recalls the many hideous stories the Harpers told about the source of the Shadow Curse and the monster Ketheric became. At first, she could hardly believe it. The gentle, kind man - the man who'd raised her - chose to forsake their goddess, forcibly convert their people to Shar, and butcher those who would not. That wasn't even accounting for what he'd done to Aylin!

So much death and destruction, and for what?

"While I hold little love for Ketheric," Aylin's armored boots settle upon the stone behind her. “That monster was not your father.”

Isobel turns to face her, desperately trying to hold her emotions back, but to no avail.

In one fluid motion, Aylin pulls her into her embrace as her wings sweep around her. They’re a welcome shield from everything beyond. Isobel leans into her, her head resting against her breastplate. She listens quietly to the slow rhythm of her heart, the rise and fall of her breath, as Aylin rests her jaw upon her head.

“You are not to blame for his mistakes.” Aylin says softly.

Isobel finds her voice soon after, “I know.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dame aylin #isobel thorm #dame aylin x isobel #ketheric thorm #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #titles are hard

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countryclubkook · 2 years ago

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Him Or Me Pt.2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Thornton!Reader

Warnings: language, death, drugs, alcohol, toxic Rafe, spoilers for obx 2, angst, slight sexual innuendo at the end

A/N: the long awaited part 2 is finally here, it took me forever to write and i’m still not happy with it so there’s a very good chance i’ll delete this and end up redoing it but in the meantime I hope it’ll suffice. Writers block is truly the worst thing in the world, I hope I did the first part justice in this and hope you all enjoy. The timeline in this is a bit different than the one on obx for story sake!

A few weeks had passed since everything with Topper went down and to say shit had escalated was putting it lightly. Everything was much more intense and you didn’t know if you were going to make it out alive by the end of this all.

John B had killed the sheriff according to everyone in town and had a massive search team looking to bring him in. This only backfired completely when he and Sarah drove their boat straight into the storm and presumably died trying to escape by going towards the storm. That’s what you believed until you overheard Ward and Rafe talking about what Rafe did and how he was the one to kill Sheriff Peterkim, you were sick to your stomach at the thought of the same hands that held you at night being responsible for taking away someone’s life and stumbled back into your room before throwing up into the trash can.

“Baby? Fuck are you okay?!” Rafe rushed to your side to hold your hair back and watched in confusion as you smacked his hand away. The look of pure fear in your eyes and face told him that you heard the conversation. You knew the truth and you were scared of him.

“You killed her Rafe, you framed John B! What the hell is wrong with you?” you screamed at him while backing into the corner wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“Hey!” he watched you flinch and immediately regretted it “i'm sorry for yelling at you, but you gave me no choice. You didn’t ask me why I did it, you act like I'm some kind psycho killer when I'm not okay? I was protecting my dad just like I protected you when your brother was doing all that shit to hurt you” he watched you grimace at the memory before he continued, “I couldn’t let her hurt my dad and now he’s safe because of me. Sarah is gone and this is my chance to step up and make him proud. Don’t you want him to be proud of me and for us to be a happy family baby?” he cocked his head to the side and slowly walked to where you were before crouching so he was eye level with you.

“Well, of course I do Rafe but you still-“ his hand moved to squeeze the side of your face, not too rough, just enough to make you stop talking.

“I saved him, I saved us baby. If my dad died, we wouldn’t be together right now. You would be alone again, I did this for us” he sounded so sincere and you wanted to believe him so bad.

“Tell me what happened, why you felt the only choice you had was to kill her” he had you where he wanted.

“She was going to shoot him, said he killed John B’s dad with no proof other than a compass and something those fucking pogues said. He would have died over something that wasn’t even true” his eyes welled up and you couldn’t help but bring your hand to the side of his face watching him instantly melt into your touch.

“Do you believe me baby? Please tell me you do, I don’t want to lose you, I can’t lose you”

The next words spilled out of your mouth before you could even think about what you were just told, “I believe you. I’m so sorry I didn’t Rafe, I'm just scared. You’re the only person I have left”

“I know baby, i’m not going anywhere. I fucking love you” he said before pulling you into a kiss.

That conversation with Rafe happened almost a month ago now and your relationship had taken a turn for the worst. What once was a perfect relationship full of love and a man that would do anything to protect you had turned into a toxic relationship full of pain from a man that grew to be a stranger to you. The arguments became more frequent and he was becoming more and more unhinged as each day passed by, his father only adding on to it all. It was like walking on eggshells around him 24/7 and you hated it, you were alone even when Rafe was right there because talking to him only ended in screaming matches or him being too high and wanting a quick fuck to distract him from whatever the hell happened that day. Topper still wanted nothing to do with you, anytime he happened to see you at the country club he’d quickly turn away and leave. But you couldn’t blame him, he warned you and you chose Rafe over him, your own brother.

One night you decided you’d had enough, Rafe was off doing god knows what all the time and getting high more frequently and it was exhausting. You decided you were going to talk to him about it tonight and give him an ultimatum, you or the drugs and whatever the fuck he deemed more important. But the universe always seems to work against you and had other plans, the universe being Ward Cameron and his untimely death.

Now you couldn’t have known what happened, you hadn’t been at Tannyhill when it happened and it wasn’t all over the news yet so nobody had said anything. You knew they had been onto them and that Rafe had been arrested but apparently you were expected to have superpowers and know that Rafe was released from jail and Ward had blown himself up. That’s how you ended up here having yet another fight with Rafe.

“God you’re so ungrateful, you know? I mean Topper dropped you like a lost fucking puppy and I took you in, my family took you in, and you’re tired? I work my ass off to provide for this family, you included, and this is how you treat me? I just lost my father. I was just thrown in jail and my dad took the fall for me making me more of a fucking disappointment, sorry if this isn’t all about you for once” you rolled your eyes at the Topper comment, he always threw it back in your face that he is the one that took you in after what happened, that he was the one that was there for the aftermath. You knew you should have let it go, his large dilated pupils and the small remnants of white powder under his nose alerting you he was high out of his mind. But you just had enough and snapped back.

“If it wasn’t for you Rafe, Topper wouldn’t have even done that. Everything is all your fault! None of this shit with your dad would have even happened if you didn’t kill the fucking cop! God I should have listened to Top when he told me you’d just hurt me. I should have chosen him, at least then I would still have a family” you scoffed and went to walk away before his hand roughly grabbed your wrist.

“Watch how you fucking speak to me. I’m all you have left now, without me you have nobody. What did Topper call you again…. A lying whore? Maybe that’s really what you are, just remember sweetheart, you’re absolutely nothing without me” his voice low and a sinister smirk on his face when he saw tears run down your face.

“I hate you” you yanked your arm free before running into one of the spare bedrooms and locking the door, climbing into the bed before sobbing into your hands at the harsh reality.

You heard a soft knock and sat up in bed rubbing at your eyes. You must have fallen asleep at some point, the argument from a few hours prior hitting you like a ton of bricks again. Maybe if you ignored the person on the other side of the door they’d go away. A few minutes went by without another knock and you assumed your plan worked…until you heard the lock turning and the door opened to reveal the last person you wanted to see.

“Go away” you didn’t want to see him, you didn’t want to look at him, you didn’t want to be in the same room as him, nothing.

“Please,” his voice cracked before he continued “just let me talk” you hated yourself for how easily you gave in.

“talk” you mumbled out and motioned for him to sit.

“I’m so sorry baby. I’m just under so much pressure and now my dad is dead and I’m fucking lost. I never wanted to hurt you, I didn’t mean to fuck this up” he was on his knees in front of you breaking down into tears.

“Rafe…” you sighed knowing you’d forgive him and move on like you always did. It was a toxic cycle but the desperate hope that your Rafe would come back prevented you from leaving.

“I know, if you never want to speak to me again I understand. I hate myself for what I did and said, how I fucking treated you, I always fuck everything up. You were right when you said everything is my fault” what he was saying was partially true, but he also knew in his very fucked up mind that he had you in the palm of his hand. If he broke out the tears and the sob story then you’d believe him and stay. It wasn’t right and he knew that, but it never seemed to stop him from doing it anyway.

“You hurt me..A lot Rafe. This is getting exhausting and I don’t know if I can do it anymore, this isn’t healthy and you know it” you hadn’t even realized you were crying until you felt the wet drops fall on your thighs.

“I know, I just love you. I’m going to get better okay? I’ll get my shit together and get clean and take over the family business. I’ll be a better man, I’m going to make you proud baby, please just give me another chance. I love you more than anything” he moved closer to you, still on his knees, and placed his hands on both sides of your thighs.

“One more chance Rafe. I love you so much it hurts, you fuck it up or hurt me again and i’m done for good. This new you scares me and I just want my old Rafe back” you placed your hands on his face but knew you would come back if this happened again. He knew that too, but he would play the part and make you believe it would be different.

“I promise, I'll get better. I love you so much baby” he said with relief before moving to test the waters and kiss you.

You were reluctant to give in but couldn’t resist and kissed him back with passion. He made you feel important again that night, claimed every inch of you as his over and over again, but it would happen again. He’d send you love bombs after the war and you’d both pretend it never happened. This was your new life as sad as it was, you chose this. That’s all you repeated to yourself each time it happened.

But fuck were you in over your head. You wanted Topper back in your life, you wanted your room at your house, you wanted things how they were, you didn’t sign up for this shit but it was too late now. You just didn’t know what else the universe had in store for you and just how much your life was truly about to change.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks netflix #obx angst #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x thornton!reader

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doodlecircuitredrawn · 10 months ago

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Happy New Year, everyone!

Damn, I’m gonna have to dust this blog off-

It’s Circa! (Temperarily) back from my lurking hibernation! I have some writing for y’all for my newest brainrot, In Stars and Time (ISaT)! Please be warned that this game generally talks about really heavy issues. So please read further with caution. The bad formatting is because I had a spike of inspiration and creative energy at like,,, what? 1, 2, 3 in the morning? AND I wrote this into a google doc, lmfao.

Warnings: Angst, slight description of gore, ISaT Spoilers!

I’m not sure what particular act these are spoiling, so I’ll be cautious and put in as many of the spoiler tags as possible because I don’t wanna ruin anyone’s gaming experience on accident!

These are ISaT au ideas!

Looper Odile au (Her birth country, Ka Bue is now the Forgotten Country)

“Hey, Odile, your accent sounds a little-“ “Unfamiliar?” (Mirabelle startles. You notice and quickly fix your face.) “…Yeah, I know.” “Y-your Vaugardian is perfect, though! I could confuse you for a native!” (…Hah. You laugh. Cackle, even. A little too much. You’re crying.)

(…Okay calm down, you’re scaring Mirabelle.) (You quickly wipe your tears and clean your glasses with a rag.)

“…Ah. Sorry, I needed that.” (Mirabelle has a slightly nervous smile.) “…I can tell.” (Oh gems. You’ve made the situation awkward. Time to end it here.) “…Alright, go away, I’m reading.” (You reopen your bookmarked book.) (Mirabelle gets the message and quickly walks away.)

(…You need to get out of here before you start losing your mind… Any more than you already have.)

“Odile, have YOU ever run away from home?” (What? This is new… They haven’t asked this before…) (You blink confusedly.)

“…Why are you asking the old lady?” “Ooh, Now I wanna know! Tell us, ‘Dile!” (…And now Boniface has their attention on you. Okay. Erm…) “…I was absolutely furious at my parents about… Something. I ran all of the way to the coast over a few days and took a boat, and then…”

(You refocus on everyone’s faces to help gather your thoughts…) (They’re starry eyed, holding on to your every word.) “…And then…?”

“That’s all I remember.” “WHAT!?” (You stare wide-eyed at Boniface) “Siffrin’s forgetfulness is rubbing off on you!” “Hey!” (Siffrin pouts dramatically.) (You tune out the rest of their conversation. You’ve heard enough.)

Looper Isabeau au

(Not again. Not again. You’ve been put at a standstill AGAIN. You forgot to tell Siffrin to look harder for that key. No. NO. ENOUGH.) (You make a beeline towards the rock. Everyone is staring at you, confused.)

(You frustratedly and impulsively hit the rock as hard as you can.) (Why is it not broken yet? …Fine.)

(You hit it again, and again, fists getting bloodied and dark as the rock slowly caves under the pressure.)

(…It breaks.)

(…No, that’s not the right word… It shatters.) (Yes. Yes! YES!) (You turn excitedly to your friends.)

(…Oh. They’re scared. You realize that you’re smiling a little maniacally. You quickly fix your face.)

“…Got it!”

(…They’re stepping back from you. Why?) (You’ve helped! You were helpful! Helpful Funny-buff Isabeau! And they’re looking at you like… No.) (Madam Odile has put herself in front of a wide-eyed Bonbon in a protective stance. Mira looks like a deer in headlights with her hands covering her mouth. And Sif… Siffrin has their hand on their dagger.)

(Why? You’re being helpful! Whydidtheynotwantyourhelpwhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy-) (Wait.) (You barely noticed how mangled your fists are, no wonder they’re so scared of you.) (…You’re a monster Isabeau, a big, disgusting monstererererererer-)

(You feel a tug on your stomach.)

Looper Bonnie au

“I know you’re on tonic and juice duty, but you can’t just snatch keys and rush into places we haven’t been to, yet!” “…How did you even know the key would work there, anyway?” (AH! A-port [abort] mission! A-port [abort] mission! Quick, say something!)

(Frin’s inviting you to fighting lessons again. But you’re literally stronger than him at this point. …Okay! Okay! Weak hits! Weak hits!)

(…Or… better, yet… You could use this chance to make Frin stronger instead!) (As you try to tune back into what he’s saying, you both notice a sadness. You both get into fighting positions.)

(Frin is trying to weaken it a bit for you.)

“…Okay, first you need to-“ (You tune him out.) (Frin, Frin, Frin, if only you knew how strong I was, now…) (It’s time for you to help him!)

(You rush in and let the Sadness hit you, and purr-pose-fully [purposefully] fling yourself to the ground and lay still for good measure… Just a scratch!)

“BONNIE!” (Frin doesn’t seem to think so, as he finishes off the Sadness in record time.) (They rush over to you.) “BONNIE!” (They pick you up and start running… To Mirabelle maybe?) (Well at least something different is… What’s that noise?)

“*sniff, sniff, hic!*” (…Oh. Frin’s crying. AND he’s taking you to Belle. You have a bad feeling about this…) (Despite your miss-givings [misgivings], you lay still with your eyes closed to not blow your cover.)

“Siffrin! Sif-“ (With a gasp, Belle becomes a blur as she looks at your woo-nds [wounds].) (After she uses her healing craft, you feel a lot better.)

“Bonnie! Are you okay!?” “Never better! I feel great! I’m gonna take a nap now! Don’t worry! I’m just sleepy!” (You remember Belle mentioning that fuh-teeg [fatigue] is a common side effect of having healing Craft used on you. That should curb at least some of their sus-pish-un [suspicion])

“Wai- Bonnie! BONNIE!” (Frin’s still crying.) (You run off before they can stop you.) (Okay. Not the best outcome… Let’s just go to the clock tower and regroup for now.)

2.5 (Part 2 of the thing earlier)

**Siffrin and Mirabelle focused**

(…Bonnie ran off before you could react.) (…And Siffrin’s inconsolable right now. The townsfolk are politely looking away. You take him to a secluded field.)

(…You don’t know what to say. You should start with…)

“…Siffrin. What happened?” (They turn to look at you blearily.) “…” (…They’re not responding. You should probably say someth- Oh, he’s opening his mouth.)

“…Bonnie rushed in while I was teaching them to fight. And they didn’t seem like they were paying attention to what I was saying in the first place… *sniff* …They got hit and fell so I had to deal with the sadness really quickly before I could pick them up. I…”

(He breaks down into tears again… You can’t really do much else except be there for him, seeing as they don’t like touch.) (…You’ll talk to the others — and more importantly, Bonnie themselves, later. Siffrin needs you right now.)

…Aaaaand that’s about it for now! I’m very much considering posting these to my ao3. Wait, what? I didn’t say anything about it? Ah, shit, erm. It’s the same user as my main blog here on tumblr, @/CircadianAnomaly. I haven’t posted anything, yet, so y’all aren’t missing much, lmfao. Do let me know, though — I crave feedback!

Bye for now!

- Circa [:

#in stars and time #isat game #ISaT au #writing #textpost #fanfic #?#isat act 3 spoilers #isat spoilers #original post

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tavyliasin · 7 months ago

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The Scent of Cinnamon 5 - The Night, The Incubus, and The Empty Bed

Raphael has left Haarlep to the Boudoir, settling to go over some contracts. The incubus, on the other had, is restless, unused to their new shape... 4,893 Words AO3 Link Click Here or Tumblr Masterlist for SoC Here

--- Summary: Haarlep takes the time to get to know their new body, much to Raphael's frustration... Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 2/5 Content Warnings: Mild Power Play, Mild Angst, mild emotional hurt/comfort, Mild Use of Safe Word, Masturbation, Edging, Teasing, Massage, Maybe DubCon if you really squint at it.

Spoilers Vague House of Hope and Act 3, but most of this series is focused on what came before. Canon Compliance The deal itself shows as fairly similar to how Tav experiences it in the game. But a slight twist. In my HCs, the connection is stronger with proximity, so that will affect things going forward too~ Other Notes: I don't know if this quite counts under DubCon, given that the contract was clearly negotiated and agreed between them, but the safe word is still respected even when not used sincerely. With thanks to beta readers and others from my beloved House of Hopeful Sinners Discord, as well as to everyone who has commented on my works on AO3 or in other discord servers. Your support means the world to me, loves, it really makes this all possible.

Song Pairing Find Me Out by Hollywood Principle "It's a secret Hear my plea Don't you see I need you And you need me So worn down Turned around I never Had a doubt I'm choosing Words wisely now I'm praying You don't find me out You can take anything you want Because I would trade it all To have it back To have you back You can take anything you want Because I would trade it all To have you back" FULL CHAPTER - SMUT BELOW THE CUT --- ---

The Night, The Incubus, and The Empty Bed

Raphael left the incubus to the Boudoir. They had permission to leave, if they wished, but he also ensured that whatever they needed for the evening would be provided. He was… exhausted, and in no mood to continue entertaining their games - particularly when they had the power again.

The cambion sat back in the chair in what was a spare room, a desk hastily moved in to serve as his office for a time. Papers - stacked neatly and pointedly being ignored - held plans, contracts, letters that needed to be sent within the tenday… But for now all he wanted to do was rest.

Part of him regretted the hasty choice to allow Haarlep the use of his own master bedroom. Initially this room was to be theirs, and whilst it was hardly the expansive bedchamber that he had given up it still had plenty of comforts within and a large bed to accommodate whatever lovers they might wish to take. Raphael just didn’t expect…

—

The incubus stretched out on the bed. The borrowed clothes itched and chafed, even loosening the shirt did nothing to ease Haarlep’s discomfort. Silk sheets still bore the scent of poorly mixed perfume, despite having been changed in their absence. It clung to their skin, too. Their crimson hued skin, covered in unfamiliar ridges, light hair covering several areas in regular patterns- They sighed and got up again, pacing the floors, tail swishing behind them as if still testing the weight of the limb as they moved. The clothes soon ended up thrown over the back of one of the couches in the room, discarded and unwanted, as the naked incubus stood before the pool.

The waters moved without being touched, gentle ripples of unseen currents shifting the surface in imperceptible ways. Haarlep gazed at their reflection, how it warped their appearance even more. It was…

They ran their hands across their body, at last having time to truly examine themselves. They had, of course, memorised every part of Raphael - as intimately as they had ensured he would memorise their body - but that was different to wearing his shape. Long fingers took an exploratory touch of their chest. Strong and well chiselled with muscles that were likely more for looks than strength. Not that it mattered, they were capable in any form they took. It was the ridges that felt more alien to their caress. Harder than skin, but a little softer than cartilage, there was a slight give as they pressed along them but not such that they would flatten.

Their raised blood vessels also stood out from their skin, but far softer. And there was the skin itself - smooth yet upon close inspection it appeared to have an almost scaled texture. Typical of cambions, to have the cracked surface like the hardened crust that could form above the lava fields of Avernus, the palpable heat reminiscent of the same liquid fire that burned beneath.

Their reflection shimmered and shifted again, as if mocking them in its refusal to settle - perhaps it was indeed a more fitting mirror for the inside than the outer veil of calm that still sat placid upon their features. His features. His features on their face…

Their head began to spin. Taking the form of another had always been shorter, temporary, before now. It was a pleasure to test out the bodies of others, to watch their reactions to feeling the link the deal provided, to find the limits of each form they could inhabit…

That was, of course, an option… There were no clauses preventing them from using this form for pleasure whenever they wished, and even if there were, this room was the one they had control within. It would be a better way to pass the time than allowing the shadows of doubts creep through their thoughts any longer. Besides, they were already undressed for the occasion.

—

Raphael found himself holding the contract from the night before. Haarlep was bound to him twofold now, both as Mephistopheles’ gift, and by their deal that defined the relationship they would have beyond owner and spy.

The terms should have been simple, easy to define, and they certainly should have been thoroughly reviewed by a contract negotiator. Yet the heat of the moment had caught Raphael in their claws, just as he sought to wind his own chains around the incubus to further his goals… Giving up his own room was just the first of those mistakes.

Perhaps it was simpler this way, to maintain the ruse that the body in his bedchamber was his own. That way, those who were granted entry might not question a less decadent venue for illicit liaisons designed to lure them in to signing away their freedoms - or whatever else it was that he demanded of the debtors he planned to ensnare. Still, he would miss his own bed, the balcony and its view…

The cambion continued to check every detail that was written, cursing himself for missing some of the small print. If only they weren’t so efficient at getting under his skin, under his belt-

His line of thought came to an abrupt end, punctuated by a short gasp. He looked down at his chest, almost expecting to see hands upon his body, or at least a hint of the weave toying with him, but there was nothing there but his clothing. Exactly where he left it, and certainly not exposing his-

“What in the-” Raphael bit his lip as a phantom caress drifted over untouched skin, still covered by silks. “Impossible…” And yet there it was again.

—

Haarlep took their time, as if meeting the body of a tentative new lover, testing each and every nerve with a soft stroke here, a light pinch there… They wondered if he was feeling it, if he noticed. The hallways echoed only with silence, however, and no demands to cease reached them either.

Perhaps this might be fun, to see how long he might hold out.

The incubus padded silently back to the bed, searching the drawers for oils or any other items that might provide more entertainment-

“Nothing? Really?” They huffed their disappointment, reaching for the only bottle of oil that was available and taking a tentative sniff of the bottle’s top. “We shall have to acquire more, Raphael, and find what it is you want most. But,” they continued, speaking quietly into the empty room, “my own hands should be more than enough to rile you up for now.”

—

Raphael leaned back in his chair, loosening his shirt collar which somehow felt suddenly too tight. The lines on the page before him revealed the nature of the trick, though he decided not to give in to the teasing - surely that would only prove his own lack of self control, and give the incubus another win to laud over him.

Another fastening of his doublet was swiftly undone before his mind could unravel any further, but it did little to help. His breath was quickening against his will, the unseen pressure of fingertips teasing at his body was impossible to ignore.

He pushed his hair back from his face and tried to calm himself. He was the master of his own house, of his own body-

—

Haarlep could tell that the nerves in this body were more sensitive than many of their prior lovers. They felt the heat rising within them, the swift and powerful building of arousal with little stimulation. It was almost too easy to begin to feel pleasure’s swell urging them onwards, before they had even allowed themselves direct contact with the source of that urge.

There was no chance in any of the hells that Raphael wasn’t feeling this by now, and yet still not a word filtered through to their ears or to their mind with a sending. Neither encouragement, nor a demand to stop… Was the cambion testing them? Or was this becoming a new game between them… If he wants to play, he had better be prepared to lose.

The oil was easy to spread across their body, allowing their fingers to glide over every contour of muscle, the edge of their claws teasing at the edge of pain. Between their healing and their appreciation of many sensations, pain was not in the least bit off putting to Haarlep. Many partners enjoyed it, and the moment earlier when Raphael had whipped their leg confirmed a lingering suspicion. But that was a thought to keep tucked away for later.

They brought their tail around in front of them, lamenting for a moment the prior shape their own had taken, but contemplating the further possibilities of the narrow and smooth tip of the prehensile limb. Oil slicked easily across it, and another shiver of pleasure travelled along its length all the way up their spine.

—

A shudder rippled through Raphael’s tail even as it draped on the floor behind him. Haarlep was up to something, and a long list of alarming options flew through his mind like a flock of particularly lecherous imps. He curled his tail around his own ankle as if to secure it in place and prevent the incubus from utilising any of those lascivious ideas that were likely filling their thoughts.

He would have to find a way to tame them, to deal with their-

He groaned at the phantom of touch beneath underclothes that still remained securely in place, and not at all filled with a pair of hands that were tracing pathways that hit every nerve that made him shudder. They were neatly avoiding the most pleasurable areas, taking their time to test his patience. Resistance was becoming harder by the moment, as was he.

—

The heat was rising in the main boudoir as Haarlep curled their tail higher up their leg, one hand still testing the sensitivity of their torso, wings, and even their horns, while the other was stroking a leisurely pace along hardened ridges. Even those were unexpectedly easy to get a strong reaction from, several droplets already pearling at the tip.

The oil was warm and slick, making it easy for the slender end of their tail to spread it around their entrance, toying with several ideas as they brought their knees up to improve their angle. The first inch slipped in with a fair amount of resistance. They were loathe to do too much this way, far preferring to only give , but they needed to know Raphael’s body. Inside and out.

—

Raphael gasped at the intrusion. The feeling of being open and exposed in a stark and uncomfortable contrast to how he sat, tense, upon the chair.

The cambion weighed up his options swiftly, choosing to ease his discomfort rather than to fight the undeniably pleasurable feelings seizing control of any sense beyond touch and need.

His clothes lay discarded on the floor as he barely avoided falling to join them several times in his haste to strip and reach the bed. Slipping under the sheets, Raphael closed his eyes, his bottom lip soon marked by teeth that sought to use the pain to hold back from audibly expressing how he felt.

His wings stretched beneath him, tail twitching indecisively as he hesitated to add to the transferred sensations with direct physical touch. Soon his hand had another use as it clamped down over his own mouth, stifling the noise threatening to escape his body as the incubus found precisely what they were looking for.

—

Haarlep sighed with satisfaction as they strummed a new chord against the devil’s copied nerves, testing the finer movements of their tail with a slight vibration. They knew there was no way he could be ignoring this. Even the incubus themselves had to take a tighter grip around their base to hold back the waves threatening to overcome their usually robust stamina and control.

So…you like that, do you, Raphael? Even the thought in their own mind sounded smug, the only place they still sounded like themselves. You’re not stopping me, nor are you rushing in to join me… Just what are you up to?They quickly looked around the room, they needed something as a focus for the spell… Ah. There it was. A small silver hand mirror on a side table, easily retrieved by a simple mage hand. They continued to grip and stroke with one hand, tail still pressing within them to torment the centre of pleasures inside, while their free hand worked to cast the spell.

They knew Raphael had the choice to resist, if he had enough sense to notice the casting at all. And yet… If he tried, they couldn’t tell. Instead, Haarlep was soon gazing down unseen upon the cambion laying in a smaller bed, undressed, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Hmmm…so you do feel it, and it has already drawn you away from your desk, yet you don’t seek your release? The incubus laughed as a new idea formed in their mind. We shall see how long you can keep that up.

—

Before he could reach the peak of pleasure’s inevitable end, Raphael felt the sensations subside. He almost mourned the lack of touch, but the pressure was becoming almost unbearable. Curling his wings around him, he stretched his legs out flat once more, sighing and attempting to relax in the cool silk sheets.

As soon as his eyes began to close from the weight of exhaustion the day - and indeed, the night before - had piled upon his brow, the whisper of a caress moved over his thigh. He shivered, pulling the sheets closer around him and deciding that it was nothing but the wind this time.

Sleep’s tender embrace was once again disrupted by a firm grip on his hip, a gentler touch massaging along the nearby tender ridges. Lower, he felt pressure both in his tail and in his-

If you must pleasure yourself, then get it over with. He hissed in his mind, taking matters into his own hand for a brief moment before realising this room had none of the oils or lotions kept in the master bedroom. The friction of a dry palm was only a partial antidote to the slicked tail that caressed his body’s copy, it would not be enough to douse the heat of arousal, nor would it allow him to finish on his own terms.

Again, just as the sensations built up, they subsided once more.

Three more times he was brought to the edge of damnation, and thrice more thwarted from release.

Raphael was almost certain he could hear their laughter echoing from the walls, feel their eyes bearing down on him as he lay in his bed, skin slick with sweat, hair fallen from its neat stylings into a tangled mess across the pillow’s mockingly cool silks. No amount of luxury could lull him to sleep, not while the bitch in the next room had their claws in every nerve of his body.

—

Haarlep couldn’t stifle their amusement any longer. Seeing the cambion throw aside the sheets and almost walk into the halls before remembering to dress and cover himself from the debtors’ wandering eyes was just too much. They stretched out, taking a relaxed pose facing the door propped up on one elbow, the scrying dismissed with a simple motion.

It didn’t take long. The slap of bare feet on stone floors approached, betraying the fury of their owner before the door slammed open to reveal the storm on his features. “Something troubling you, Raphael?”

Even the use of his name was calculated in how casual the greeting was, and oh how delightfully his brow twisted into a deeper scowl at their words before he replied. “Playing innocent does not suit you, Harlot .”

“No? Well, what is it that brings you to my domain?” They watched the lines on his face deepen further, new wrinkles already creasing smooth skin as he seemed to be torn between holding his place by the door and storming over to the bed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Insolent creature, this is my house, and that is my body you have been toying with.” Raphael took one step closer then halted once more, tail swishing furiously yet his wings were curled and folded defensively close to his body.

Haarlep took a long moment to sweep their eyes across him again, taking in how tight the simple trousers were. Poorly laced and straining still, the haste likely leaving no room to include undergarments, just as any kind of shirt had remained forgotten as his bare chest heaved with frustrated breaths. “So many bold claims, this room belongs to me as per our contract, and I will use it as I see fit.” They slid their hand beneath the sheets, keeping burning eye contact with the cambion as they continued. “But, I might be willing to indulge you, Master , if you tell me what it is you want.”

—

Raphael was torn between the desire to rip off his clothes or to rip the very smile from Haarlep’s impudent lips. He kept faltering as his feet refused to obey him any more than the incubus would, but at least his voice had not yet decided to take leave of him - though he had a suspicion his senses would soon prove themselves deserters. “What I want…is a good night of sleep. Yet here you are, misusing our deal for your own ends.”

“Oh come now,” Haarlep grinned with far too much emphasis in their words, “you gifted me the room to myself - a body, too - is it so unusual for me to make myself at home in both of them? It will be quite a long few centuries if I am not even permitted to discover the limits of the pleasure at my fingertips~” Those very fingertips must have still been oil slicked as Raphael felt the intrusion - it was even stronger now there were no walls between them. His knees buckled as he tried to catch himself with his tail, wings spreading and fluttering awkwardly to keep his balance. “Limits, Harlot,” he gasped as they clawed at the copy of his nerves, “don’t seem to be in your vocabulary.”

“There’s one little word that seems conveniently far from your own tongue, is there not? Do you remember it?” They grinned wickedly. Testing him. Again.

“Angel.” He muttered, and Haarlep’s hands appeared above the sheets in an instant, all whispers of touch echoing across his body falling silent just as swiftly.

“There, now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Haarlep’s gaze flickered lower for a passing moment. “Well, perhaps it was. A problem that is just as easy to solve, by your choice.”

“Is that so? I do not recall choosing to feel you indulging in your base urges.”

“And I do not recall you asking me to stop. A simple cast of sending, one of your debtors as a messenger, anything would have sufficed. Yet it took you this long to show yourself here, and still you do not know what it is you want~” Their eyes almost looked green again, despite the clear orange fire reflecting his own devilish hues…

“I…” He faltered. Again. He didn’t particularly find himself lusting after physical pleasure, but it was impossible to deny the simple fact that the sensations were not distasteful. Nor, truly, was the concept of being able to experience pleasure without having to directly involve himself in the messy business of partnered sex. “What should I want from this? Is it not reprehensible for someone to lay with their reflection?”

“Only if you wish it to be~” Haarlep purred, however despite their playful tone they sat up a little, smoothing the sheets over and indicating the space beside them. “Sit with me a while, perhaps I will know this body best by learning more of its owner.”

—

The incubus watched the cambion as the tensions left some of his stance, though his muscles still clearly held a lot of his conflicted feelings within them as he walked towards the bed with a hesitant air of false confidence in his stride. “I will not touch you that way - nor indulge you with the feeling of our contracted connection - unless you give your permission.”

Raphael sat on the edge of the bed, wings folded flat and neat against his back, hesitant to lay as he was bidden. “This is…unusual.”

“Is it truly so bizarre? To sit with someone with whom you have made a most intimate contract, in a bed you have already shared?” Haarlep moved a little closer, unable to see his face nor divine what he was thinking from his tense shoulders alone.

“The connection. I did not know what exactly I should have expected, but it is… vivid , almost overwhelmingly so.” His voice grew more steady again, now they were no longer intent on teasing him.

Hell had its laws, and so did Haarlep. They would not resume anything in his body until he was ready, now that he had uttered that singular word. Even though it wasn’t spoken in earnest, they had pushed him to use it on purpose, to prove to the cambion that even when they were in this room, even in the heat of lust, a single breath could stop it all. “Do you dislike it?”

“Yes.” Raphael hesitated. “No.”

“Which is it?” The incubus inched closer still, curling their tail around to lay next to his hip. Not touching, particularly not whilst still glistening with the scented oils they had used earlier, but close enough to make their presence felt.

The cambion turned, brows knit together in a frown. “I don’t desire it, I don’t need it, I certainly do not yearn for the instinctive pleasures of mortal flesh…” “But?” Haarlep prompted him, laying one hand tentatively on his shoulder. When it wasn’t shrugged off, they began to gently massage the tension from the muscle.

“But…” Raphael was still lost for words.

“There will always be something undeniably satisfying in giving yourself over to those base urges, a purely physical reaction if you must boil it down to that.” Haarlep took the lead in the conversation as well as in their…well, they couldn’t call it a relationship , but perhaps partnership was a term that suited a pair bound in contracts, indelible ink coursing in their very flesh. “There is no shame in indulging those curiosities, particularly with someone who has a very thorough knowledge of bodies and how to draw the most pleasure for them possible.”

“It’s different, you feed on this. It’s more a necessity for you than for any other.” The cambion leaned his neck back a little, inviting Haarlep to continue the massage.

“I do,” they conceded, “but even I am capable of enjoying the simple nature of the body’s pleasures. It is not always to devour. Consider it the difference between eating because you are starving and tasting samples of treats to enjoy the flavour alone.”

—

Raphael thought over their words, though he did note how their voice wavered when speaking of starvation. There was likely a reason they had ended up barefoot in his halls, having sold even their name for a chance to earn his father’s favour. “That does little to change the fact that you are touching me with my own hands, that if we are to lay together now all I will see is my own shadow looming over me.”

“Is that so? Do you truly hear your voice now?” they leaned closer, their breath tickling the pointed tip of his ear.

“Yes…no…” He pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead as if the pressure could untangle the warped realities of the deal’s terms. His fingertips could feel the whisper of touch that even now continued to work the tension from his shoulders, identical hands behind him controlled by identical arms, and yet- “It’s not the same.”

“It is not.” Haarlep agreed. “I have not felt such a bond from the other side, but I am well aware of the effects.”

Raphael lowered his arms again, gazing at his palms as if they were no longer his own. He moved his fingers in an imitation of Haarlep’s massage, mimicking them as he felt the pressure even in empty hands. “How does this usually go?”

The incubus paused as if contemplating the question as well as the nature of the asking. They moved to run their fingers through his hair, claws gently raking along his scalp which made his whole head feel somehow lighter as they answered. “Few desire the use of their own form, but there are some who do. Either way, I rarely wear a body for longer than it takes to use it as I please~” “And I assume that use is-”

“Anything from an hour to a whole night, depending on the occasion of course.” Haarlep spoke in a detached way that at first surprised the cambion, until he remembered how this was as simple for them as talking of using someone else’s kitchen to cook a meal.

Raphael almost wanted to see their face, to know what their expressions were when they talked about themselves. Because as insistent as they were that he forget not one single freckle on their physical form, they were not forthcoming about anything beyond. He let his head lean forwards a little as they moved to his neck, firm thumbs gliding carefully either side of his spine, teasing out more tension from muscles he didn’t know were knotted.

—

The incubus could feel the cambion relaxing further as they soothed him. It would take time. Their first night was… intense . It was aided, of course, by the impatient nature of both fiends needing to establish the hierarchy between them, to secure their deals and know where their own ambitions fit within each others’ plans. Their boredom had led them to haste, and now they were forced to slow their pace. Moving back to his shoulders, they kept quiet in their contemplations. The initial idea had of course been to come here and act as a spy, to report back their findings, and earn Mephistopheles’ favour - that had not changed. What they could not have anticipated, however, was the contradiction in front of them. Raphael was, by most standards, impatient and impulsive. He was filled with pride - and some measure of inadvisable hubris - and yet when that slipped away he could soften. Even the wickedly sharp contours of his horns looked less jagged as they watched his head fall slightly forwards into an ever more relaxed state. The way he had sought some measure of comfort as he drifted to sleep…

The cambion was, upon closer inspection, lonely . Although at least he seemed to be placated from the frustrations he had entered the room with. Well, most of the frustrations.

Haarlep continued to caress Raphael’s body, moving from his shoulders to the join of his wings, waiting for resistance or arguments yet hearing none. “Would you like to find out,” they tentatively broke the weight of the silence with half the question, allowing him to stop them before its completion, “to find out how the contract’s link between us will feel?”

“Are you suggesting you sleep with some pitiful debtor whilst I watch?” His tail twitched, but he didn’t move away from their touch.

“There needn’t be any other in the room.” Haarlep curled their arms around him now, pressing their chest to the warm of his back and resting their chin on his shoulder. It was both a reminder of their power, that they were still above him, but also of their willingness to compromise. Their partnership would come to a swift and unsuccessful end should he decide to end it. Or worse, he could still keep them, but deny them the promised reward should he succeed in his goals, or prevent them from being an effective spy and earn them his father’s ire instead. They shuddered. “So you are suggesting we lay together again, already?” The cambion leaned his head back to look at them directly, a frown creasing his brow. “How about tonight, I will allow you to suggest what you wish.” They held his gaze, seeing their own reflection in the dark centres of eyes that were as ever alive with infernal fire, even when his expression might have sought to extinguish it. “Do not get used to ordering me around, nor think of me as ceding my control to your whims. You may be where you wish, and tell me how you would like me to use your body whilst you grow accustomed to the bond that now binds us.”

—

Raphael hesitated. Had he not known better, he would’ve thought the offer born of consideration - but this was just another game to them, to their wicked green- Their eyes weren’t green. Their hair was not long and midnight-hued. Their body was no longer lithe and tan with softer curves. But their voice held the echo of allure in their cadence despite being carried in his own tone, and the cinnamon scent was still drifting into his senses when they were near… His body and mind briefly struggled and came to the same conclusion. “I agree to your terms.” --- --- ENDING NOTES --- ---

I'll admit some level of guilt for edging the reader as much as Haarlep is teasing Raphael here, but there feels like so much importance to these early interactions. Both have to find their place right as their lives have taken a sharp turn in ways neither could predict. There will likely be some more time skips as the story progresses, but at least in the beginning I'd like to give proper weight to these interactions. Besides, it's fascinating - even to me as I write it - to see how their early dynamics were formed.

Continue to the next chapter below~

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 raphael #haarlep #the sc #the scent of cinnamon #bg3 #fanfic #bg3 prequel #Spotify

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