#Weak Soul Patch

[beloveds-embrace]

Quotation marks around worshippers because they’ve lived long, brutal lives, constantly in war and fights and skirmishes and tearing others apart in a bid to simply survive and keep a malicious god content enough it doesn’t kill them and destroy what little they’ve fought hard to win.

John is the oldest. He’s lived long enough to know hope is just a word made by those already deafeated. It doesn’t exist. He has fought bloody and dirty to have his own spot. It’s all his, his only source of safety and isolation from the rest of the god’s violent domain. It should be just his, because trust should also not exist.

Yet he still took in Ghost. His old name burnt away in the ashes of the crumbling arena, more scars than clear skin, face hidden with a mask and all his opponents dead, John still took him in.

He also takes in Johnny. Bright Johnny, with blood coating his teeth and who laughs in the face of death, as if the chaos only strengthens him. Johnny, with his wild grin and reckless spirit, has survived every fight, every slaughter, not by brute force alone but by sheer audacity. He revels in the violence, thriving in the blood-soaked madness that their war god delights in. Despite John’s reluctance, Johnny becomes part of his world- part of the strange, brutal family they’ve formed under the watchful eye of a cruel god.

But John doesn’t stop there. He takes in Kyle, too. Kyle, quick and resourceful, with sharp eyes and sharper instincts. He’s newer to this war, but no less hardened. He knows how to fight, how to survive. He has to, in order to endure the hellish existence demanded by their god. Like the others, he’s marked by the battles he’s fought, by the lives he’s taken, the blood that stains his hands. There’s no room for softness here, no room for weakness.

Together, the four of them are bound by the violence they’ve endured and the desperate struggle to appease a god who feeds on their suffering. They don’t question it. They don’t dare. It’s all they’ve ever known. It’s all they’ll ever know.

Then, you arrive.

But you’re not just some strange outsider, not just another fragile soul lost in the wasteland of their god’s domain. You are another god- a goddess. The goddess of fertility, of harvest, of life itself. The opposite of everything they know. Where they come from a world of blood and fire, you bring growth, peace, and something they can’t name- something they’ve long forgotten.

John is the first to notice the change. It’s subtle at first. The small patch of ground he’s claimed for himself, once barren and dead, begins to show signs of life beyond the very little moss that has made itself home on the rocks and cracks of his area. Tiny sprigs of green push up through the cracked earth, the soil somehow softer, richer. He doesn’t understand it, but he feels it- something shifting, something outside of his control. It leaves him with his hackles raised, eyes narrowed and shoulders often tense.

(He doesn’t shove you out. Doesn’t fight, or attack, or kill you. He doesn’t know why he lets you stay, like that moss that lingers.)

Ghost remains quiet, watchful as always. He doesn’t speak of it, but he, too, notices the strange calm that seems to settle around them when you’re near. The land seems less hostile, the sky a less oppressive red and more of a deep orange. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him wary, but he’s drawn to you nonetheless. There’s something about you that soothes the storm inside him, something that makes the endless violence seem… far away.

Johnny, in contrast, is the first to approach you openly, grinning through bloodstained teeth. “Yer naw like the rest of us, bonnie.” he says with a laugh, almost in awe. He doesn’t know why he feels at ease around you, why the chaos in his mind quiets when you’re near, but he doesn’t question it. You smile at him, your touch soft as you brush dirt from your hands, tending to the small garden you’ve coaxed from the dead soil.

Kyle watches from a distance, suspicious at first. He’s seen enough in this brutal world to know nothing good comes without a cost. But as the days pass, he, too, begins to feel the shift. There’s a strange sense of peace when you’re around, a warmth that feels foreign but not unwelcome.

They don’t realize it at first, but you’re pulling them out of the war god’s grasp, slowly, gently, without them even knowing. With every seed you plant, with every gentle touch, you weave them further into your domain the same way your hands weave flower crowns for each of them. They don’t know that the violent god they served is weakening, that his power is crumbling as you pull the earth itself away from him, reclaiming it for yourself.

The land around them begins to change. The once-scorched earth softens beneath their feet. Where the air was once thick with ash and smoke, it now carries the scent of growing things, of rain, of life. They don’t understand how it’s happening, why the violence that once defined their world seems to be fading, but they can feel it.

And you, always quiet, always gentle, never tell them the truth.

They don’t know that you’ve been dismantling the war god’s domain piece by piece, tearing down the walls of blood and fire that have kept them trapped for so long. They don’t know that with every moment they spend in your presence, they’re moving further from the god they once served, deeper into your realm of peace and growth.

Their trust for you starts small.

You offer them food, but not the scavenged scraps they’re used to- fresh bread, warm and soft, made from the grain you’ve grown in the earth that once seemed too dead to nourish anything. “Eat,” you tell them with a soft smile, your voice a balm against the harshness of their world. “You’ve fought enough for now.”

John eyes you warily at first, his mistrust of softness deeply ingrained. He hesitates, but the hunger gnaws at him, and he finds himself taking a piece. It’s better than anything he’s tasted in years. The others follow suit, their suspicion momentarily forgotten in the simple act of sharing a meal.

When Ghost returns from another brutal skirmish, bloodied and bruised, you’re there. Quietly, without a word, you kneel beside him and start tending to his wounds. His body tenses at first and he is almost read to push you away- he’s used to pain, used to enduring it alone. But your touch is gentle, your hands soft and careful as you clean his cuts and wrap his injuries. He doesn’t speak. When this simple act becomes a routine, something begins to flicker in his eyes, something he hasn’t felt in a long time: relief. Safety.

“You don’t have to fight alone, not anymore.” you murmur, and though Ghost doesn’t reply, he doesn’t pull away either. The next time he’s hurt, he seeks you out before anyone else.

Johnny, always bold, is the first to embrace your presence without hesitation. He grins when you touch his arm, your fingers brushing away dirt from his skin. “You’re soft,” he says quietly, as if he can’t quite believe someone like you exists in their world. You only laugh gently and tousle his messy mohawk, unfazed by his wildness. “Maybe,” you reply, “You deserve it. All of you.”

Johnny’s grin widens, and soon, he’s lingering around you more often, like a star drawn to the sun’s orbit. He chatters about nothing and everything- battles he’s won, places he’s seen, jokes that make no sense. And you listen, never once judging the darkness behind his stories, always meeting his reckless energy with calm kindness.

And Kyle… Kyle is the last to trust. He watches you from a distance, wary and skeptical. He’s been burned too many times, lost too much to believe in something as simple as kindness. But even he can’t deny the peace that settles over him when you’re near. One evening, after a particularly grueling fight, you sit beside him, your presence quiet and soothing. You don’t push, don’t ask him to open up. You just sit there, offering him a slice of bread and a cup of fresh water.

“Why are you helping us?” Kyle asks, his voice low, guarded.

You smile, your eyes warm. Your face is always so open, so welcoming. Kyle does not know how you do it. “Because you’ve fought enough. You deserve rest. Peace.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eases just a little. He still watches you from the corner of his eye, but slowly, he begins to let down his guard.

As the days pass, you continue to tend to them- feeding them, healing them, offering warmth in a world where warmth is rare. They don’t understand it at first, but they begin to feel the shift. The land around them is changing, softening. The earth that was once barren begins to bloom with life. Where there was only death and destruction, now there are signs of growth- flowers, crops, greenery creeping up through the cracks in the wasteland.

John, who has spent his entire life guarding himself, feels it most of all. He watches you with something like confusion, like a man seeing the sun for the first time after years of darkness. He doesn’t understand why he feels calmer, why the constant tension in his body is easing. But despite his better judgment, he finds himself drawn to you- drawn to the softness he’s fought so hard to keep out.

You smile at him, always gentle, always kind, even when he’s rough around the edges. “You don’t have to fight anymore, John,” you tell him one evening as you hand him a fresh scone, drizzled with sweet honey and cream. “There’s more to life than just surviving. Let me show it to you.”

Ghost remains distant, but even he starts to let his guard down around you. The mask he wears, both literal and figurative, feels less necessary when you’re near. The weight of the violence he’s carried for so long feels lighter, though he doesn’t know why. It helps that he comes to you for every injury, your hands gentle and tender on his scarred skin.

Johnny is the most at ease with you, laughing more, fighting less, as though the fire that once consumed him is finally starting to burn out. And Kyle, ever watchful, finds himself relaxing for the first time in a long while, though he’s still unsure why he feels so drawn to you, so at peace in your presence.

Little by little, without them even realizing it, you’re pulling them away from the war god who has held them captive for so long. You’re bringing them into your world, a world of life and peace, where they can be more than just warriors, more than just tools of violence.

And the war god, once so powerful, is fading. His domain is crumbling, and soon, he will be nothing more than a memory.

But they don’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

There is no need to drag them into what happens between gods, you reason to yourself, humming a sweet melody. Catching John’s gaze- they are working on your ever-expanding garden, tending to the soil- you smile and wave at him, delighted by the way his shoulders untense.

Yes. There is no need to ruin this little haven you’ve created.

[chocum]

COMING DOWN !

— bunched up, sweet little whimpers, he always gets so sensitive under your touch feat. choso kamo

WARNINGS. femreader (she/her) x goodguy!cho :3 mentions of violence/death, sub cho, dom reader, overstimulation, begging, blowjob, premature ejaculation ;( crying + 1.2k wc note. i’m so insane abt choso it’s actually scary, he’s all i think about. tysm for all the support on my first post. love u all! feedback + reblogs are appreciated! also art by @/swag_yay on x. ty again & enjoyyy ᡣ𐭩

choso hated missions with a passion that pierced his very soul.

his cursed energy manipulation and combat skills are unrivaled, making him crucial to a mission’s success, but the relentless nature of them drained him beyond words— both mentally and physically.

they feel so repetitive: eliminate curses, protect civilians, prevent damage. eliminate curses, eliminate curses, eliminate.

he has always been driven by a deep desire to protect everyone he could, especially those who were unable to do so themselves, but the constant cycle of violence and death confused him—wrestling with self-doubt, doing mental gymnastics, trying to justify his actions. the cognitive strain became a heavy burden that compounded during missions, further exhausting him like heavy buckets of water dousing an already flickering flame.

and after meeting you — his sweet, sweet girl — his hatred for missions only grew.

the ache of missing you constantly gnawed at him. your homey scent. your taste still fresh on his tongue, preventing him from concentrating because, in his mind, he’s still tangled in your sheets, stealing sweet kisses that linger on his lips long after they’ve left yours.

when out scouting, he would catch glimpses of couples hand in hand in the streets sporting deep smiles, making his stomach twist— his brows pinching together, deepening the ridge between them.

his sole solace was the thought of returning home to his pretty girl once everything was over— it pushes him to keep going, to keep fighting, even avoiding shoko because he preferred your clumsy little hands to patch him up.

finally done with his latest three-week mission — a seeming eternity away from you — he was being driven to your place, to you, home.

head lolling back against the car seat, he spreads his legs wider, rolling his hips to adjust himself, before sinking, letting the leather seat swallow him whole. he tilts his head to the side, deep purple irises flickering, to watch the familiar scenery— large leafy trees crowding the darkening highway under evening skies.

after he waved his goodbyes, giving thanks to his driver, he stumbled up to the door, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the keys underneath the dim light of the porch. on the other side, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open causes you to bolt up, rushing to greet him.

he pushes it open and there you are. looking up at him with that big smile he adores so much lighting your face— pretty eyes sparkling with relief. you squeal and fling your arms around him without hesitation and he does the same, burying his face into the side of your neck, feeling your hair brush against him, inhaling deeply.

you always smelled so good— a blend of your natural scent and hints of vanilla from your body wash. he’s been craving that scent for so long, growing dizzy now that it finally embraces him, his body falling limp, so weak in your smaller arms.

you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, fingers gently tracing the smooth lines on his face— lines that seemed deeper since you’d last seen him.

“i missed you so much” you hummed faintly as he cupped your face, nuzzling your warm cheeks against his rough hands.

“i missed you so much more”

he leaned down to find your lips. they felt so much softer than he remembered. kissing you deeply, his calloused hand cradling the back of your neck, drawing you closer into the warmth of his embrace.

and when you moan against him— oh, it sounds so sweet, the blood rushing to his cock so quickly. next thing he knows, he’s rutting against your thigh, pressing against you so, so desperately, almost mounting you.

“what’s wrong cho?” a soft whine escapes him at the sudden loss of contact, “tell me, baby, use your words”

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, a pretty blush crawling up his neck, “just missed you so much— got excited”

“i know, my pretty boy, but ‘m here now, okay? let me take care of you. i know you missed it.” you take his hand, drawing him to your room as he follows obediently, shutting the door behind him, “did you touch yourself without me?”

he shakes his head, his fluffy hair cascading down to rest on his shoulders. “you .. you told me not no”

“good boy”

you push against his shoulders, gently guiding him to sit on the bed, his breath hitching so sweetly watching you lift yourself to straddle his waist. connecting your lips once more, hips grinding against him so slowly— rocking back and forth. his mouth now tinted pink and tenderly swollen from your ardent kisses, you move down to his neck planting a trail of light ones along the sensitive skin, each touch eliciting subtle little quivers and soft exhales. his fists bunch up the sheets, he—

“sorrysorrysorry” he babbles breathlessly— endlessly, his pants turning damp, material darkening as his cock twitches and pulses so cutely, cum drooling out his sensitive slit, “just feel so good against me. been so long. couldn’t even touch myself when you sent those pictures. it’s so sensitive”

“shhhh ‘s okay, cho.” a finger pressed against his pout— pushing its way in for him to suckle on warmly before you slide down to your knees. trailing your hands down his thighs, tugging on the hem of his pants, “i’ll clean you up”

he’s still so hard— his tip blushing, crying white cream, and when you take him in your hands, his hips jerk up for you— body still coming down from his high and you’re already taking him in your mouth, cruelly, licking fat stripes up his twitchy length.

“fuck ‘s too much baby, i just- wai, wait, please.” he’s pawing at you, pushing against your head, but he sounds too cute, crying and whimpering around you for you to stop— looks too cute with the prettiest pink blush shrouding his body from the tips of his heated ears to his curled toes.

you gargle and gag around his cock— exaggerating the sounds because you know it drives him insane. he loves when you get so nasty and messy for him, foamy spit bubbling around where his cock plugs your mouth up. your hands move to cup his warm balls, caressing and squeezing gently, coaxing him to cum for you again.

“ah f- baby, i’m so fucking— please. wanna cum for— you. gonna be so good, gonna—”

he cums salty, thick stripes straight down your warm throat with a whine so pretty you wish it was recorded so you could play it over and over and over.

and he’s crying— it’s too much, feels too good — sweetly hiccuping, sniffing as he hides his face behind his hands. such a pretty boy. he’s growing limp in your mouth and you pull off with a whine before kissing up his shaky legs.

“did so good for me, cho, missed having you like this” lightly moving his hands to pet at his damp cheeks, watching keenly how he leans into your touch, wiping pretty doll-like tears with your thumbs.

knowing that he has you to take such good care of him once he’s home will forever ease his mind while he’s away, a comforting thought that lingers like a soft embrace, even in your absence.

[genderbutnotreally]

Gender dysphoria and gender euphoria are so weirdly confusing. For instance, I'm Ftm and a frickin Cold sore is giving me a sense of euphoria at the moment, just wtf

[blkgirl-writing]

The massive list of SFW and NSFW Gale Dekarios headcanons

Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Gn! for the most part)

A/N: the more I write Gale, the more in love with him I am. I started this before patch 5 and haven't been able to play it myself, so whoopsies if I just have to make another one of these. Lots of requests included in this one, to be expanded on later!

Gale is the most caring partner in the whole group. Followed by karlach and Wyll

He would much rather do everything for you than anything for him

This means he often over extends himself for you and you have to convince him to let you help him

Quality time and words of affirmation are his main love languages. All he wants is time alone with you, and he will do so much to make that happen

Gale actually sets up his tent to be as comfortable as possible because you don't have your own tent, and he doesn't mind at all if you sleep in his

eventually you basically just sleep in his tent exclusively, platonically at the moment. Sleeping on other sides or with a blanket between you

It isn't until you wake up from a particularly bad nightmare that your accidental touches aren't followed by apologies. Not quite embracing but not flinching away

He held you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his hands were big, soft, and comforting. He didn't speak until you did, who knows how long that was. All he said was "You're safe. It's ok."

────⊱⁜⊰────

He truly believes he doesn’t deserve you and that weighs kind of heavy on him

That shows in his body movements, confidence, still hesitant to be close to you physically in an extremely subtle way

With more flirting, more talking, more late nights close together, but still apart, still a gap in your embrace

Gale is still in touch with his sexuality and sex, but sex is different than love making. And he knew, when he fully let you in, when he’s finally stable and his mind, body, and soul were ready, he’d make love to you

Your first time together was for the most part, pretty talked through. You set your boundaries and safe word pretty fast

He’d stop at some point, pull back and just admire you

Stop is used lightly because he’s definitely still inside you and just very slowly still pumping in and out of you

“You’re absolutely ravishing.”

And he’d give himself fully to you

Gods he’d be all over you after, so touchy, even if not sexual in nature, any tough felt electric

Gale holds your waist more than your hand, it feels more romantic, showing you off to the world as someone that chose him. It’s really sweet, the first time he does it, he hand trembled a bit, he thought he was smooth enough for you not to tell but you could definitely feel it

Don’t get me wrong, he is confident and cocky at times, everyone knows that. But with you somehow, he feels nervous that you deserve more than he could give

Part of your early relationship is making sure he knows he’s wanted and loved and more than anything you could have wished for

────⊱⁜⊰────

Cuddling is always fun because it usually end up with fucking

If you’re the big spoon? He becomes such an angel and snuggles into your touch

If he’s big spoon he’s immediately turned on by everything, you being so close into him, your ass pressed against him, so many beautiful places for him to touch

Always ends in side fucking, just pulling your underwear down just enough to grind his cock on your bare ass

It’s also just convenient and easy if you’re getting busy while the others are sleeping in camp

But many days your time has you weak and just ready for rest, but you're both more horny than tired

that's when mutual masturbation becomes a daily routine, which never really leaves, even when you aren't as tired and have more privacy

he likes you call you his cherished work of art, seeing you spread for him is like a painting

────⊱⁜⊰────

One night in baldurs gate, you stay up into the morning drinking and talking in a bar, they only kicked you out when they literally were an hour last close, keeping it open because you had bought so much

It was literally anything, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Past pets, stupid haircuts growing up, embarrassing failures

That was the night everyone else really realized how deeply in love you two were

Like sure there was romance but real true love, with sparks

They absolutely made fun of you when you finally stumbled to your camp and passed out all day crammed into the small one person beds

I like to believe Astarion drew a stick figure version of y’all’s sleeping position to make fun of you when you woke

────⊱⁜⊰────

Once you’ve moved in with him he gets more and more turned on by you every day

You could be doing nothing and he’d grab your thigh and give you such a dirty look of lust

Not even three months in and ya'll have fucked on every surface possible, knocked over many books, and accidentally broke a vase and a bit in the shower

For the most part, your cozy days consist of him reading, and you beside him, feet resting on his lap

If you're a bard, of course he's going to ask you to practice and play around him and while you relax together, his favorite sounds all come from your sweet melodies

if you drink you definitely share a bottle of wine throughout the day

When Gale get's tipsy he just gets lovey and nerdy

telling you about a favorite bit of history or a spell, interrupting himself to compliment you "Gods you're beautiful, have I told you that today, dear?" and "And that's how the stars fell in love with- that top is stunning my love, mind if I take it off?"

cooking is fun yet very stressful unless he has a drink in hand

it's his kitchen and he's not used to company in it, so he often bumps into you or doesn't know where to say something is, so he just ends up getting it for you

I have a feeling this man is super into coffee and the roasts

like he's an absolute snob over it. A whole glass cupboard is dedicated to bags of coffee from where ever he travels

"Just too dark of a roast, it muddies the hazelnut flavor" (yes I believe he's a whole bean light roast lover)

Maybe you get a normal, non-speaking cat for yourself and just to have a bigger family in your home

I'd imagine a very reckless black or ginger cat who tara takes a VERY long time to love

but it's your and Gales cat. It's a thing you own together and love dearly

There's also a self of cards, board games, etc, for your date nights in

Gale legitimately is just as happy if you win than if he, if not more happy for you

He often takes a while to take his turn because he's distracted by you

super sweet but makes games feel much longer

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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

[emchant3d]

They say Captain Munson has a gift. That he’s blessed by a god’s touch.

His ship has survived every battle. His crew flourishes with bounty, with health and good fortune. He steers them unerringly through every storm, sailing directly into the gargantuan waves, into the lightning and rain, and comes out the other side pristine while other vessels would have been sunk, snapped and splintered on the ocean floor, crew turned to ghosts to haunt the waters.

They say he made a deal, sold his soul, sold his crew’s souls, will find his reckoning one day at the end of a sword or drowned in the sea he loves so much. They say he’s a devil of his own, that his eyes glow red and black and his teeth are sharp and fanged, nails clawed, that he slaughters innocents and bathes in their blood.

But the truth is much simpler. Captain Munson is no devil, he did not sell any souls, and he certainly isn’t blessed by any god.

Captain Munson fell in love.

He didn’t mean to. When the fishing nets are reeled in that fateful day he expects nothing more than a few meals, a couple pounds to send to the kitchens for Benny to work his magic with. He isn’t even on deck when the catch is brought in.

It’s Gareth’s frantic voice that draws him upwards, his shouting and knocking on his cabin door that has him strapping a sword to his hip before taking the stairs two at a time to see the threat.

He’s expecting a King’s ship. Maybe another pirate. 

He isn’t expecting a mer.

Pale, unconscious, bleeding, sprawled on the deck, plush and soft and gorgeous, tan torso tapering down into a huge, shimmering tail. He’s breathing but it’s shallow, weak, a shell on a necklace moving faintly with each hitch of his chest.

And the crown. A simple circlet, golden and shining, tangled in his chestnut hair, gems glinting from the locks.

Mers are mythical, believed to be stories by some and history by others, but Eddie grew up hearing the tales of them every night from his mother, and the evidence is right in front of them - how can they do anything but believe?

It takes three of them to move him below deck. Eddie grips him under his arms, Gareth supports his hips, and Jeff wrangles his tail. They take him to Eddie’s quarters, the only bed big enough to fit him.

He wakes in stages, delirious from pain, snapping teeth and swinging claws when he has the strength for it and slurring rambling words when he doesn’t, head lolling on the pillow, eyes rolling back. 

His injuries are strange - a band of dark bruising around his pretty throat, his back shredded, bites taken out of the dips of his sides and the meat of his tail. There’s sickness in him, but Joyce is patient. She patches him up, soothes the mer’s fever and stitches the wounds she can, bandages what she can’t, keeps it all clean, keeps it wet because apparently that’s what he needs - salt water, which makes Eddie cringe in sympathy, but only seems to ease the mer’s pain, not make it worse.

It’s a week before those pretty eyes blink open with genuine awareness in them, sharp and wary. Eddie’s taken to sitting at the mer’s side, feels a strange responsibility to him that he doesn’t want to look too closely at, and he glances up from his journal to find the other’s gaze locked on him.

“Where am I?” he croaks out, and Eddie smiles, snapping the journal shut.

“You’re aboard the Hellfire, sweetheart. Captain Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows in his seat, and it goes over about as well as he thought it would.

There’s a lot of threats and snarling and cursing, but Eddie simply leans back, out of the mer’s reach as he crowds himself into the corner of the mattress, back pressed to the wall and sheets tangled around his tail.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tries to soothe, and the mer scoffs. Eddie can’t blame him for his caution, but he tells him the honest truth - where he was found, the state of him, how they’ve nursed him back to health.

The mer’s hand hovers over one of the nastier wounds at his side, covered in gauze, dampened with saltwater. When he cuts his eyes back to Eddie there’s a little less animosity in his gaze, and Eddie will take what he can get.

Eventually he pulls a name from that snarling mouth. Stephan. “Prince Stephan,” he begrudgingly admits once Eddie points out the crown that he’d gently worked free of his hair. 

And he’s a mer, but different.

“Siren, is what I believe your kind calls mine,” Stephan says, “half and half. Mer and human.” 

“Human,” Eddie muses, and Stephan confesses, warily, haltingly - he’s the King’s bastard son. Born to King Richard of the land and the Mer Queen of the sea.

“And how did the Prince of the Mer find his way into my net, hm?” Eddie asks, smiling, and Stephan rolls his eyes at him. 

He’s a runaway. King Richard had come looking for his son and with his mother’s blessing Stephan abandoned his title, his home, because the King would find him eventually if he stayed, and whatever dangers he might face in the open sea would be nothing compared to what the King might use his gifts for.

“Gifts?” Eddie asks, and Stephan smiles, his pointed teeth glinting.

It’s a clear day, not a cloud to be seen, no sign of rain or bad weather. And yet as Steve begins to hum softly, a shadow crosses overhead. 

It happens slowly. Stephan’s voice builds, a wordless little melody, something melancholy and soft, and the sky beyond the windows of the cabin darkens. Thunder rolls and in the distance, Eddie can see a crack of lightning.

The ship rocks as waves begin to form, the once-smooth water taking a turn. Eddie can hear the crew above deck begin to shout to one another, confusion building, growing more insistent as Stephan’s song grows, and Eddie’s stomach drops.

The siren’s voice is haunting, terrifying. Eddie’s frozen in place, meeting his eyes even as tears well in his own. He’s transfixed, can’t move, can’t speak, paralyzed with some ancient, instinctual knowing of danger, of death.

Eddie does not scare easy. But this is terror personified. This is the true threat that lives in the sea. Not the waves, not man, this. This creature who smiles at him with sharp teeth and a haunting voice, reaching towards Eddie with a clawed hand, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear in a touch that makes Eddie’s skin crawl and his heart skip and dread sink into his very bones.

He’s staring death in the face, and death is smiling.

Then Stephan quiets, and it’s over as quickly as it had begun. The sky clears in moments. The waters calm. The vessel’s heaving calms, and Eddie’s spine unlocks.

He stares at the being before him, amazed, before a slow, brilliant smile breaks over his face.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you, Prince Stephan?” he asks, and gets a smile in return.

“Call me Steve,” he tells him, and fondness begins to worm its way into Eddie’s chest.

“Then call me Eddie.” He sees Steve’s eyes flutter, and he tilts his head. “You’re tired,” he tells him, and gets a huff in response. “You’re safe here, Steve,” he tells him, and he knows he doesn’t trust him, not fully, not yet, but that’s okay. “Rest. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Steve watches him warily, but clearly the little display has worn him out. His hand finds that same wound on his side, cradling it carefully, back shifting like it hurts to sit up straight and stretch all that marred skin.

“Lay a hand on me, and I’ll eat you,” Steve warns, and Eddie snorts a laugh. 

“Whatever you say, highness,” and he tugs the sheets back into place over that large tail, and lets the mer get the rest he still clearly needs.

part 2 💕

[altruisticalastor]

↳ ❝ [ Alastor x Reader Masterlist ] ¡! ❞

♡ Fluff:

Alastor’s weakness

Alastor with a pregnant wife

✰ Smut:

Alastor's shadow comes out to play

Alastor gets jealous

Alastor’s breeding kink

Alastor’s demonic form

Alastor’s little obsession Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

✾ Angst:

Alastor gets patched up

Alastor’s spouse pawns their soul to Vox : Part Two Part Three

➳ Introduction and Rules

➳ My Ko-Fi

MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG WITH ADULT CONTENT!

[fuji-sen]

Sawuwa with reader who finally gets their own body and immediately gets carried away princess style PLEEEEASE 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺

SAWuWa Headcanon pt. 5.1 .ೃ࿔*:･

requested!

characters: Rover, Jiyan (I keep forgetting its Jiyan not Jinyan--), Scar, I'll add more characters soon.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Rover.ᐟ

takes place presumably sometime after chapter 1/patch 1 story.

➥ other than you, Rover is probably one of the most happiest person in Sol-III now that you got your own body!

➥ because honestly, they had a rough time partly sharing their body with you, it was like not having any privacy! they could hear your thoughts, and you could hear theirs. They were like the anchor to your disembodied soul that either floated around nearby or was in your body like an imaginary voice in the head.

➥ but despite the rough bumps you started off with the main character, you two became very close, forcibly perhaps with being forced to be so close to each other, but still, genuinely close.

➥ so when you were a bit disoriented having your own body they easily picked you up in a princess carry with a bright smile on their face.

➥ "it's finally nice to see you in solid form." they remarked with a chuckle.

➥ feeling a bit weak you were still able to respond, "you don't have to carry me y'know" your voice was soft as you stared at their piercing golden orbs as if the blood of the gods spilled to create such beautiful eyes.

➥ the Rover hummed thoughtfully "I know, just want to."

➥ some part of them knew they'd miss being so close to you.

➥ "can't believe I have my own body, now I have to walk all over the place like you." you scrunched up your nose in annoyance at the thought. Rover laughed at your musings, that was the first thing you were worried about after getting your own body?

➥ "you're worried about the journey but not the tacet discords?" they pointed out and you flailed your arms in frustration "ugh you're right!"

➥ "just stick with me and I'll protect you" they said holding you tighter.

Jiyan.ᐟ

takes place when you end up getting separated with the Rover and ended up getting your own body. probably around the time when Rover was building that huge gun thingy to get close to the threnodian.

➥ The minute you are forcibly separated from the Rover, no longer a specter, no longer a voice with no body to its name, the first one who is over their shock would be General Jiyan.

➥ you feel a bit disoriented, your body swaying as you felt dizzy, your body leaned a bit too far in one direction and suddenly you find yourself falling.

➥ oh but don't worry! well toned arms wrapped themselves around you preventing any injuries.

➥ "Thank you" you managed to say as you steadied yourself, his arms no longer enveloped you but a hand was on your shoulder instead.

➥ "It is no problem." he curtly replied "you seem to be disoriented, it seems that getting your own body has exhausted you." his brows furrowed as the more doctor and medic side of him appeared.

➥ After a bit of silence on his side, he opened his mouth only to offer assistance "would you like me to carry you to the medics? or perhaps the Rover?" ah that's right, you got separated.. you shook your head despite how tempting the offer was, you couldn't take advantage of the general. "no it's okay, you're hurt, I can endure it until I meet with the others again."

➥ but Jiyan wouldn't take no for an answer, "are you doubting my strength?" he asked amused as he crossed his arms, flexing his muscles. You gulped shaking your head fervently 'no'

➥ and that's how you ended up in his arms, perhaps Jiyan was right that you needed to be carried. You find your eyelids grew heavy as you leaned on his chest.

Scar.ᐟ

tw: kidnapping? (depends whether you don't want him to take you or not.)

takes place during the awakening of the threnodian.

➥ Scar would watch (stalk) you and Rover after your first encounter, the jail of Jinzhou wasn't enough to stop him.

➥ with the whole fuss of the Threnodian's awakening being expedited he was able to easily slip out.

➥ course he would have preferred to have fight his way out of the place and cause havor like the maniac he is, he decided it would be quicker to slip out so he could get to you and Rover quicker.

➥ so when he arrived to find you, rover and jinyan, he was pleasantly shock to find you in the middle of getting your body.

➥ the powerful frequencies you let off and the reverberations that flowed through after had him excited!

➥ The general and the rover were preoccupied with defending you from the gathering TD's that were attracted to your raw power left them distracted, letting him easily close the distance between you.

➥ you look at the palm of your hands, shock as you truly had a physical body. and yet you were unable to savor it as you could hear a familiar voice.

➥ one dripping with charisma and an underlying tone of insanity. "Scar" you turned to find him walking closer and closer to you, you were shock considered he wasn't supposed to appear in this part of the story since canonically he was in jail at this moment.

➥ "it's nice to see you again little lamb, or should I say bambi?" he tilted his head, an amused smile on his face as he looked at you up and down, his heterochromia eyes settling on your legs.

➥ you followed his stare to realized your legs were shaking, probably being barely able to stand as you were. Your cheeks quickly turned red in embarrassment, "I have a name you know" you hissed and ended with a pout.

➥ you turned around trying to find Jiyan, Rover or anybody to help you. As much as you liked Scar and doted on him every chance you got, you felt vulnerable and you were unsure of his motives regarding you.

➥ "Aw come on little lamb, won't you please pay attention to me?" you jolted to find him right behind you, face near your ears as you could practically feel his breath fanning you. He had an adorable pout on his face, almost looking like a kicked puppy.

➥ before you could reply a sound resembling a growl got your attention as you both turned to find tacet discords approaching you.

➥ as much as Scar liked fighting, and wasn't too afraid of tacet discords he clicked his tongue annoyed "I won't let our little date get interrupted again." he declared as he bent down, and before you could object, he carried you in his arms.

➥ "hey- where are you taking me?!" you yelled as he began moving, dodging attacks sent at him by the tacet discords who wanted you. Scar merely laughed "hold on tight!" and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck as he used his legs to either run, dodge or attack.

➥ boy Rover and Jiyan will be in for a shock when they find you gone.

[fanofthings20]

Rio Vidal x Reader Angst Request

This was requested by @miraslittlecrow. I hope this story is what you were hoping for! Thank you for the request and the fun challenge, I'm sorry it took me so long to finally posted it and I do apologize if this is a complete disaster!!

All the promtps are highlighted in bold and were created by the amazing and talented @me-writes-prompts

Without further ado, after 14-hour days for 7 straight, internet issues, about 16 rewrites, and changing the prompts about three times here is the story. Until next time farewell and happy Agatha All Along episode 7 night!!

___________________________________________________________

It was after midnight when a bloody, beaten, and worn-down soul returned home. Trying their hardest to stay silent to not alert their wife now that they were finally home after being delayed for an additional two days than the original eight days that was originally expected. You would have been back two hours ago but you were determined to patch yourself up the best you could so your wife who would no doubt already be worried about the delay, it would only stress her to see injuries and put the lives you just risked everything for in grave danger from her wrath. This is the downside to having the job of a life guardian with protection witch abilities while your wife is Lady Death who is protective and quick to anger.

Turning into the living room has you feeling lightheaded and your using the back of the couch as a crutch to keep yourself upright. You waited for a few minutes till the feeling passed thinking it was safe managing to round to the front of the couch before feeling a wet sensation against your left hand that was holding your right side. Pulling your hand off your side you see that the stitches for that large gash had ripped again and you'd already lost so much blood you barely made it onto the couch before the rest of your strength left you.

Meanwhile, Rio had been forced to collect more souls in the last four days than she would have liked. She would much rather wait at home for y/n to return, given that they were already two days behind their return date. Unfortunately, Death waits for no one, and Rio was super-speeding the process intending to get home faster. Finally, arriving at the house for the last two souls that needed to be collected tonight it happened to be an elderly couple. Rio always enjoyed collecting elderly couples who passed together because it was well deserved. Even though she was in a rush to get home she took her time with this couple getting to know them while providing a smooth transition.

When she returned to the living world she felt a searing pain in her chest at the same time it felt like a soul was close to collection. The searing pain was from the bond with her wife that alone was concerning enough but in occurrence as the death call skyrocketed Rio’s panic and in her rush to get home she teleported to the wrong location twice before finally making it home. Running up the path barreling through the door, and using magic to close the door the house was dark no lights had been turned on. Rio was using their bond to range how close she was to y/n and her ability to adjust to the darkness to rush up the stairs to their bedroom.

Upon crossing the bedroom’s threshold she noticed the room was untouched. Stopping long enough to check the bathroom before she rushed back downstairs, she was on the way to their back porch which was your favorite spot had it not been for the weak whimpering sound you made on the couch from jostling your injury. The sound had her turned around and on her knees at your side in a split second using her magic she turned on the living room lamps which illuminated your state to her. Normally nothing would phase her but your bruised state and the extent of your injuries were unlike any you had ever bared before. She knew the insane risks of your job as a life guardian but had been managing until now but she could no longer put off the conversations she had been withholding from you anymore.

Your voice was so weak when you tried putting on the brave act of “It’s fine, I’m okay-“ but she was quick to gently cut you off with “No you’re not, you’re injured and it’s all their fault!”. She was so sick of the fools who lived without abandon and required a life guardian to keep living. If she could she’d gladly take all their souls in an instant to keep you from harm but she couldn’t break the cycle of life rules without major consequences. If you didn’t require her immediate attention and care to keep you from being the next soul she was forced to collect she would be out that door in a second to give the person you risked everything such a life-altering scare to keep them from needing you ever again.

But you needed her now, especially with the large gash that was gushing blood out. She took out her favorite curved knife to cut your shirt off so she could have full access to your injuries to heal them. When your shirt had been removed and the true extent of your injuries was revealed to her, she was scared that she couldn’t heal it. The gash went from your right side across your abdomen it was deep with significant blood loss your other symptoms included breathing faster than normal, feeling confused and weak, sweating, low body temperature, fast pulse and slowly losing consciousness.

Rio tried to be gentle but she could only go so far when she had to put her hands directly on your wounds to heal it with her magic. Putting pressure on your wounds and the magic closing them again, causing you immense pain that had your already exhausted body past its limit to where your whimpering increased along with your feeble attempts to get away from Rio’s hands. Your rational side knew Rio was helping but you were so confused by the pain and blood loss that you weren’t capable of seeing it as helping. Rio couldn’t take her hands away from your wounds yet so all she could currently offer you were words of love to try and ease your confusion and discomfort.

“Cara Mia, I know it hurts”

“Your going to be okay”

“It’s almost over mi amor”

“We are going to have a long conversation when this is all over”

Rio had finally finished healing your wounds and could take her hands off your abdomen. You had passed out when the wound was halfway through mending. After she checked your heartbeat and breathing status, she walked to the kitchen where she collected a bowl of water and a hand towel to wash both her hands and clean you off the best she could. When you were cleaned off Rio took a few minutes to lay her head over your abdomen to feel you breathing and leave a trail of kisses along where your newest scar lies trying to calm her racing heart and remind herself you were still here with her. There wasn’t much she could offer for blood loss but two potions, food, hydration, and rest.

When she left you this time it was a return trip to the kitchen to clean the bloody bowl and prepare the potions and food. Who knows how long you’ll be passed out for so it was a waiting game for Rio which gave her time to think about one of your earlier interactions and what she wanted to say to you after all these years of holding back. One of her favorite interactions was when you had presumably saved her from a booby-trapped section of the woods. You did not know that she was Death at the time, there had been many interactions between you both throughout the years. You thought she was alluring, irresistible, and you knew this section of the wood was trapped. She had stepped on a hidden pressure plate for the arrow bolt's release, but before one could hit her, she instantly knew it was you. Hell, yall had fucked so many times at this point that you could recognize each other instantly just by your bodies. “You saved me back there…you didn’t have to. You could’ve gotten yourself kille-” (Rio) “I’d always choose you over myself. You should be well aware of that by now, my dear.” (You).

It had caught her off guard how willing you were to always put her first over yourself. Dare she say that made you even sexier in her eyes and so much harder to deny feelings for you anymore. She almost lost you tonight in more ways than one, physically and she would have been forced to take your soul from the living world to the soul realm a place she could never enter. She finished making everything and kept the food warm with her magic going back into the living room carefully lifting your head and sliding in under you. She ran a hand through your hair while the other was holding your wrist keeping track of your heartbeat.

She knew you probably wouldn’t hear or remember this conversation but she needed to say it to you “You know, you don’t have to do this. You don’t always have to stand up for people. I worry that no one will stand up for you in return when the time comes, because they take you for granted. And I hate that.” “Let me help you, please. I can’t stand on the side, quietly staring at all the scars you carry.” She couldn’t stand by anymore in the shadows and let you do this alone, there were only so many years where she’d let you go but now if you ever fully recovered from this she would be at your side from now on.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Since you're at the doctor's, medical headcanons. Who's afraid of needles, who's the biggest baby when sick, who insists that everyone just let them die, etc. etc.

Short answer before long one bc I have to drive but:

They're all deep, deep into the morass of the horrors and miracles of The Flesh.

---

The Karakura kids are weird because Ichigo's dad is an emergency trauma doctor and Ichigo's family loves above the clinic. Any time his friends come over there's a round of "so what wild shit happened in the ER since last time?"

(continued under the cut)

Uryuu's dad is also a surgeon, and the thing that gets him and Ichigo back on speaking terms again is more or less second-hand shop talk.

Orihime has been obsessed with emergency medicine since her brother died. She wanted to know what she should have done, and can do so it won't happen again.

Keigo has been carrying a first aid kit in his backpack since he became friends with Ichigo and Tatsuki in middle school. He's got an exceptional talent for patching someone up enough to get through English class without the teacher noticing the injuries after a lunchtime brawl.

Tatsuki started peeking over Orihime's shoulder at her notes on joint trauma and developed a talent for targeting her kicks and punches to deal maximum damage in karate tournaments.

Mizurio knows a suspicious amount about neurology and how pain works because his "uncles" keep telling him about techniques used by enforcers to extract payment or information.

Chad got heavily into Oxacan folk medicine because once he stopped getting in fights, he needed something else to occupy him, and his abuela decided to teach him how to cook. There is not a huge difference between good food and good medicine. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of chemoreactive plants and chemistry you can do on a stove.

Every single one of the Karakura kids has had something medical happen to them or a loved one, and every single one is now peering into the mysteries of the flesh about it.

---

The shinigami are worse.

Shinigami broadly have better physical resistance, esp because they're reaping the injury stabilizing benefits Senjumaru wove into the Shinigami Shushako.

But they live in a feudal society that has only SOME of the benefits of modern medicine, and the few instances of disease-mitigating infrastructure are far between. It's COMMON for the souls of the rukongai and Seireitei alike to have a sibling who died in infancy or a parent who died in child birth or of an infection.

Societally, they are still in the very earliest phases of the war against pestilence and it gives one a very warped perspective on all things medical. Especially if you happen to be in the immediate sphere of influence of soul society's greatest warrior against death:

Retsu Unohana.

I cannot overstate the impact this woman has had, and you don't do things like "decimate the nationwide infant mortality rate" or "pioneer organ transplant surgery" without being a bit mad, and she has lived so long and done so much that the madness has clarified into a single extremely dense point of determination and she warps the reality of those around her. Woe and Blessings alike to those within her event horizon.

---

The Arrancar are even worse.

Hollow resilience to injury allows them to body much, much worse injuries than the humans and it has an impact on etiquette. Biting off a hand because someone won't stop bothering you is a normal way to establish a boundary. Limb loss and regrowth is common, and disembowelment about as serious as a bad cold.

The food situation is even more dire. Smaller hollows, ones that used to be plants or animals or human-hollows who have a modicum of self control are weak, but lucky. They can survive off the ambient reiatsu in the atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, or the naturally cleaving fragments of soul that fall off the living.

Everyone else needs to hunt. And the more powerful a hollow becomes, the more it needs to consume, and the richer it's prey must be. The only really rich souls are other sapient beings. Any hollow at the level of Shrieker or Grand Fisher or higher is trapped in a hellish metabolic cycle of cannibalism, and the only way out is through.

The primary killer of hollows is other hollows. They know what they're doing. They're looking their fellow beings in the eye, the ones who understand them best, and deciding that their own life is worth their friend's. For all their ability to handle the slings and arrows of physical trauma, hollows are worse at handling the emotional consequences of this cycle. Monstrous Egotism is a best case scenario for them.

In practice, this means that while it's perfectly acceptable to bite someone's hand off for annoying you, it would be rude of you to spit it back at them. At least eat it!

I realize this last bit is not, strictly speaking, medical, but you can see how the ability to survive being turned into an anatomical Venus and having to live on a diet of the flesh of others would completely recontextualize how hollows think about Illness.

---

I will do the fun individual headcanons when I get home, but this is a good broader framework to consider for now.

[sasahuaa]

Azul Ashengrotto as an omega

Riddle - Leona - Kalim - Vil - Idia - Malleus

gn!reader; sfw (subspace is not meant to be smutty but can be perceived as foreplay depending on reader’s wants); word count: 3027; tw: Azul’s canonical low self-esteem

The ocean is ruthless with its inhabitants, and the Coral Sea is no different. Despite the fact that this population is not lonely like the majority of the sea creatures, they learned to toughen themselves up, eat before being eaten, try to become greater than you look, force those around you to submission.

Azul's weak, soft heart was subjected to this terrible treatment. He became used to the dark and cold reality that his homeland, hiding himself in his octopot or running away using his ink as a distraction was something he mastered before meeting the tweels.

And the more he was hurt, the more he pitied himself. When mermaids with pretty, colourful and bright tails existed, who would look kindly to a disgusting octopus? Omegas are meant to be beautiful and soft, like Rielle! Or at least, that's what his former classmates used to spit at him, who could spare a glance to this poor unfortunate soul?

He would show them, though, Azul would swim higher than all those insolent mers ever could.

Courting

Getting to know you was like breathing through his nose for the first time, refreshing and terrifying.

When he met the magicless alpha from Ramshackle, he thought you could be easily defeated much like your friends, as the quote goes “you're the average of the five people you hang out the most". Azul is an observer, watching his prey before making any move, enticing little fishes until they fall into his tentacles by their own choice.

So of course, you self-sacrifice the little you had to protect your friends. And he underestimated you, he admits. Azul failed in seizing Ramshackle dorm, but he wasn't mad about it, after all, his interest was picked by the resident of it.

“I think you are pretty great without having to steal from others. You have a strength greater than any magic. You are a hard worker, Mostro Lounge is proof of that, it's more difficult to be better at working hard than at magic.” Do you know how his heart palpitated after hearing your kindhearted words? It surprised him at first, but he shrugged it off for this alpha just being a flatterer, he wasn't special, he thought, he was merely stunned because he didn't think you would act mellow with him after almost leaving you homeless and slaving your friends.

Azul got closer to you during winter break, after dealing with Jamil and receiving you from time to time. Mostro Lounge has the scent of the beach and coral reefs, he personalized the candles to do so, and the more time you spend with him there, helping him cook for two and then choosing a table for you both, the closer he gets the candles to you, making the smell cling to you.

The housewarden is quick to notice his feelings developing, he feels nervous before you visit him, tidying up his lounge and VIP room when you confirm you imminent presence, he is flustered frequently around you, specially when he hears your compliments or words of praise about his establishment, spitting ink discreetly (or he thinks he is being discreet) on napkins as soon as his heart misses a beat and he changes colors.

Yeah… color changes, apparently he learned that he can get even redder than an angry Riddle, or get blue to purple color. That afternoon, while in the bathroom and trying to put his act together before returning to your table, he noticed his affections for you.

Octomers change color to attract mates, also omega octopuses release chemical cues with their scent to seduce alphas, it's alike a pre heat scent, and bringing his wrist to his nose to check- yes, he is awfully aware that for mers he is not being subtle at all.

Azul uses suppressants and scent patches, his scent to attract a mate was so strong that even his precautions were rendered useless. This alpha certainly bewitched him!

Mentioning mers, now Azul can understand Jade and Floyd's strange behaviour, eels have a more keen sense of smell, so undoubtedly they caught up first on his scent. The tweels sometimes lurks by the table, teasing him more than normal, Jade would snicker a comment about a famous tale of a mermaid princess and a human prince mating, or Floyd would steal the cutlery, leaving you and Azul to share one pair.

At least they were keeping these disgraceful actions in private (Azul cheered momentarily).

About his little huge crush… Azul is a bit lost. In a quiet evening in his dorm room, looking at himself in the mirror, he wonders if he has enough confidence to pursue you. If he was younger, he would say no, Jade and Floyd were his only friends, others his bullies, what would make anyone fall in love with him?

But he had worked on himself since then, Azul considers himself average in appearance, he is strong in magic and one of the top students in NRC, on top of that, he is successful, he wonders if this is enough to become a prospect mate. Also, he knows how to appear confident, and a reliant person is attractive, right?

Azul won't outright ask for courtship, he prefers for you to notice yourself that he is your best option in a partner, that way, it seems that it was completely your choice and he would escape the embarrassment of a confession! Two birds in one stone. Also, he can't underestimate the power of body language, like the great witch of the sea once said! He considered making a contract after he ensnared you, but decided against it. He wants a relationship built on affections, someone that won't leave him because it's their choice, not because they are afraid of suffering the consequences.

With his plan in mind, Jade and Floyd intruded in his schemes unprompted, most often than not jabbing at him and trying to discompose Azul in front of you, the twins would often push Azul to your direction, making him trip until you caught him in your arms while asking if he was okay.

The housewarden also would use his new point system in Mostro Lounge to his favour. 1500 madol to gain 3 points, and 50 points are necessary to have a meeting with him is the usual offer that his clients receive, but Azul would place discount coupons for you to find, free points pamphlets or giving you more points than the deal. Besides the usual night meeting that was usual between you two during winter break that turned into a normal occurrence even after the classes returned, you now are frequently in his VIP room in “professional” meetings.

If you don't have anything to ask for in a deal, that's fine too, you both could do anything at all, save the deal for later.

Before, Azul used his secondary gender to entice more people to his contracts, he wouldn't submit or act flirtatious, but he release pheromones to appear benevolent and willing to help, not his fault that so many betas, alphas or even omegas fall for a compliant omega. With you, he was also more blunt, resting his cheek on his palm to flaunt his neck and looking at you through his lashes, he worked everything in himself, he can be more omega-like to accomplish his objective.

He may think he is being smooth, but Azul is a pathetic loser in love, he schedules your “dates”, but he is losing his shit behind closed doors, like a middle school girl with a crush, squealing when he receives your texts, and sometimes he is so damn obvious, staring at your lips intently while turning purple.

Just look at him, permit yourself to drown in his spell of love, breathe in his chemical cues of seduction, and eventually become utterly his.

After you two are officially courting, there's some unhealthy behaviours that needs to be worked upon. Azul often thinks that his value comes from the things he possesses instead of himself, in a way he feels empowered by your relationship, after all, you are the perfect mate, but sometimes his admiration falls onto the toxic side. He started the process to accept himself after the overblot, but on hard days he returns to the old habits, you would become his world and he would feel crushed without you.

It will take guidance and time to form a healthy relationship, he hopes you won't give up on him.

Growling

When he was little, Azul used to growl more, it was one of his only methods of defense from his bullies, to cover their sneers with his sound, hoping the agony of distressed omega would keep them away. As he started his business with deals when he was a junior he learned to contain his growl, for his stepfather explained to him that people who seem friendly and approachable are the most successful.

And while in NRC he almost never growled again, besides from the usual tiring P.E classes, but he would only do that when he was sure no one was listening, for showing weakness was disgusting. For many students, Azul was one of the most calm omegas in the school, and his Octavinelle dorm mates would report that even if they acted up and received a scolding from their housewarden, they never were at the end of a growl.

With Azul becoming comfortable in the relationship, his growls towards you are not out of irritation, if you have a disagreement he still wouldn't voice these tones, preferring to be reasonable than to concede to base instincts, he growls in playful situations, rather.

Like when playing with board games, if you do a move that renders him defenseless, he will growl in betrayal, how could his alpha be so ruthless with him? All of that while his lips quirks in a soft smile.

Purring

Like growling, he doesn't do it often, the moments that he is relaxed are rare and far in between, his mind never rests, his responsibilities and insecurities weightening on him.

When Azul was a little octopus, he purred while protected in his mother's arms or inside his octopot, using the vibrations of a broken purr to comfort himself after a rough day in school.

It also takes Azul to be comfortable in your relationship to purr, they are low sounds and very soothing, his body barely moves when he is making them, so you won't be able to feel it when placing a hand on his chest or neck.

He purrs in times where it's just the two of you together, most likely in his VIP room or any of your dorm rooms, when you cup his cheeks with your ring finger caressing the behind of his ears, his pale skin changes to a plethora of colors while he smiles and purrs, leaning closer to receive kisses and enjoy being spoiled with affection.

Nesting

If he took his time before purring in your presence, showing his nest takes even more. He wants to make sure that you are into this relationship as much as he is, his heart would break in fragments impossible to glue back together if he showed you his most sacred space only for you to turn your back and leave him.

He is not used in assembling nests, not the ones made on land, his nest in the coral sea has his octopot and some corals, algae and shells. On land, he likes lighter blankets and pillows, easier to move and does not make him feel trapped, he chose deep blue tones to make his nest. Azul prefers the comfort of tight spaces, so his nest is either under his bed or inside his closet, he never keeps the nest assembled, changing it's place frequently or tucking away his items.

Azul got some of your things even before officially courting, he didn't outright ask or stole from you (though Floyd might have done something similar either to embarrass him or to play a prank on you if he was feeling like it), he used to make pointed remarks about being in need of a specific clothing or an alpha smell, and you are willing to provide to this omega in need, aren't you?

For when he starts to bring you to his nest, he was extremely nervous, using more scent patches than usual, it was enough to mask his nervousness, but he learned the hard way that there's nothing he can do to prevent the smell of needy omega that he produces whenever he is with you.

Azul needs reassurance, he leans to prefer actions rather than words, so when he gives you permission before you enter his nest, and you don't make any comment of how cramped his nest is and pull him to your embrace, he will purr happily.

Nesting time is quiet if it was dependent on him, he rambles non-stop out of it, but there's no need for words in the attachment of both his safe haven and his sacred space, he won't be opposed for whispered lovesick words though, and while the usual is him talking more between you two, sharing random facts, occurrences in the school or gossip in general, in his nest you become the talker.

Marking

Azul is crazy about marking, he never thought someone would accept him completely, you now use a Octavinelle armband with your uniform, it doesn't matter that you are not part of his dorm, speaking of that, he has available rooms! Wouldn't it be nice if you could live with him 24/7? You can even use this opportunity to transform Ramshackle as another branch of Mostro Lounge, he promises he will give you part of the revenue.

He will be a bit grumpy if you refuse.

The octomer is paranoid about your relationship, that you could leave anytime soon, he needs to keep a watchful eye on you all the time, he is saddened he can't ask the twins for it, they do whatever they want most times, so convincing you to be closer to him is his best option.

The armband reeks of his scent, he debated covering your whole body in it, but he is afraid of being called clingy.

There's only one exception that will make him surpass this fear and claim you shamelessly, it's if another omega threatens his positions, he hears about another omega having a crush on you and making plans to confess? And if Azul hears that this omega is talking badly about him, he will go berserk.

For weeks you had Azul glued to your arm, flaunting your relationship in school halls or with his patrons, and if he is the reason why bad rumors are propagating about that omega he will never let you know.

Subspace

To guide Azul into subspace is difficult, and it would occur unintentionally on a day that he is feeling particularly troubled. He is openly touchy and clingy.

Azul is easy to maneuver in this state, but in a demanding way, Azul has a high pain tolerance, so his alpha can be as rough as they want with him. Bite, scratch, squeeze, Azul will accept anything.

If Azul is feeling daring, he will bring you to his bathroom, return to his octomer form and pull you to his bathtub so you both can entangle together. He will whimper, whine and growl if his alpha tries to get away, his tentacles coiling around their body in a death grip, at the same time his eyes fill with tears, are you so cruel to leave him when he is in need? He will blame his appearance if he suspects that, stay with him and make him feel like the prettiest of them all.

☽ ☼ ☾

“Azul, wait here.” Jade stopped him in the middle of the hall after leaving Vargas’ lesson, they are on their way to Crewel's classes, and Azul is still feeling out of breath, his throat hurts from the need of water, is he still feeling his own legs? He can't say for sure, the only thing moving him forward being his will to maintain his reputation as a top student. Honestly, if he wasn't drowning on his own self pity, he would notice that Floyd escaped the class.

“What is it, Jade?” Azul turned to him, using a light cloth to clean his sweat. He only received a cryptid smile in answer.

“They are coming!” screams of panic from other students fill the air, a commotion to clean the way while Floyd is running through anyone in his way. Azul is starting to feel restless, one thing he knows about the twins, and the current situation he is in, is that they found entertainment in the new reactions that they discovered from the octomer.

And as much as he wanted to yell at them both, from the frustration of them meddling with his relationship with the person he is in love with, and from the sudden push he suffered from Floyd, all his thoughts became white noise the moment he landed.

In your arms, to be exact.

With your scent surrounding him and a strong hold keeping him steady. Azul's legs turned jelly, and you embraced his waist to support more of him. He couldn't help the ink he spilled from his mouth and fell on your chest, mortification hitting him instantly.

“Hey, are you alright?” your voice was heavenly, he felt so flattered by the clear worry he noticed in it.

His scent flared up, Azul mourned the scent patches that clearly were ruined with the chemicals of a octomer begging for a mate. He could even feel himself turning blue and purple!

He needs to answer you, right? You look even more concerned, if that was possible. But any words escaped him with you so close, just the way he wants to spend with his alpha forever.

Azul will put the twins in cleaning duties later, but he may be forgiving if he can snatch more time with you from their antics.

[sleepwxlk]

“To the Warriors of Invisible Battles”

They will never know—

the weight you carry

in a body that feels like a fragile house

with storms at every window.

Yet here you are,

standing in the ruin,

patching what you can,

finding beauty in cracks

only you can see.

Your pain does not speak for you,

though it roars in silence.

It does not define you,

though it shadows your steps.

What defines you is this:

The way you rise when no one is watching.

The way you find a smile

in the rubble of the hardest days.

The way your heart holds love

when your body holds ache.

Some days, survival is a whisper.

Some days, it’s a battle cry.

And both are triumphs.

You are not weak because you rest.

You are not broken because you hurt.

You are a masterpiece in progress,

proof that the soul

is stronger than any pain.

So when the world feels too heavy,

when the night stretches endless,

remember this:

You are not alone in this fight.

And even now,

you are winning.

- DK

[hisui-dreamer]

his cleaner shrimp

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you had only meant to help him once, but he attached himself to you straight away

Tags: fluff, comfort, humour(?), Floyd calls you shrimpy, mentions of blood, Floyd and Jade fought, bot proofread

Word count: 1.5k+

Notes: more floyd fluff! this fic was originally angst can u believe it anyways i was inspired to do a classic shoujo manga scene hehe

Masterlist

'I did nothin' wrong!' Floyd thought to himself.

In the shadowed back alley, Floyd sat curled up against the wall, his emotions roiling like a stormy sea after a heated confrontation with Jade. Anger still boiled within him, but the sting of his injuries dampened his spirit.

His left cheek was swollen and discolored, a vivid shade of purple and blue, with a raw, angry red spot where Jade's knuckles had landed with force. A small cut near his eyebrow oozed blood, giving his face a gritty and battle-worn appearance. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied as well, the skin was broken in places from the forceful punches he had thrown.

He nursed his wounded pride, nursing his bruised ego, and found solace in the alleyway alone, away from prying eyes. If anyone had dared to even look at him funny, they would be met with a fierce glare from his mismatched eyes, as if daring them to challenge him to a second fight.

But it seemed his glare wasn't intimidating enough, as your shadow started approaching him, prompting him to look up from the floor. You were a small thing in Floyd's eyes, not the best target for a fight, and definitely easy to throw around.

'Pshh... Just small fry...' he thought as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Uhh, hey there," you said hesitantly, holding out a plastic bag Floyd could only assume contained first aid supplies from the red symbols. "I couldn't help but notice you're hurt. Your injuries might get infected if you leave them untreated."

Floyd's initial gruffness wavered slightly as he glanced at you, surprised by your concern. But he didn't want anyone's pity or help, especially not from a stranger. "I don't need any help from small fry like you," he retorted, trying to sound tough and dismissive. "I'm not that weak."

Still, you continued taking steps closer, kneeling down next to him to stare directly into his eyes. "Even strong people can get infections, you know," you said, a wry smile playing on your lips. "It'll hurt more then, so it's better to have it treated now."

Floyd hesitated, torn between his pride and the growing realization that he did need help. Perhaps it was the adrenaline passing, but he could feel his bloodied hand throbbing in sharp pain. He cast a hesitant glance in your direction, taking in the softness and understanding in your face. In that moment, he decided to let his guard down, just for a little bit.

"Fine, whatever," he mumbled, begrudgingly extending his injured hand toward you.

Your touch was gentle and sure, and as you cleaned the wounds and applied antiseptic, you made sure to warn him of the incoming sting, though he seemed unaffected by it all. Despite his efforts to stay aloof, Floyd found himself feeling strangely comforted by your presence. As you continued to patch him up, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, a soft and fuzzy feeling that he couldn't explain. He wondered if that was the infection you had warned him about, but it didn't feel bad or painful; instead, it felt like a balm for his tired soul.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you couldn't help but ask about the cause of the fight.

"So, what happened?"

Floyd looked at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he hesitated. However, the trust he had found in your compassion made him open up.

"Shrimpy's curious, huh..." he replied with a small smile. "Okay, I'll tell ya, but only cuz you're Shrimpy."

You blinked at the peculiar nickname, amused and intrigued. "Shrimpy? Is that... me?"

He nodded happily, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile wryly at the odd choice of nickname.

"I had a fight with my brother," Floyd finally admitted, his smile fading into a pout.

"It's Jade's fault!" he yelled, his frustration evident in his voice. "He kept using those weird ingredients in his cooking, even though I hate 'em! I kept tellin' him, but he didn't even listen."

He paused, his voice turning quieter as he continued, "So I broke one of his terrariums to make him stop, but he got really angry..."

You listened attentively, humming as you carefully cleaned the wound on his face. "And so you two fought... I understand how that could be frustrating," you said softly. "You know, cooking takes a lot of time and effort... I'm sure your brother just wanted you to enjoy it like he does."

Floyd glanced at you, his mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. He couldn't ignore the gut feeling that maybe you were right.

"Yeah, maybe he did," he conceded, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "But it's still annoying he doesn't listen to me."

You nodded, understanding his frustrations. "Of course, it's not nice that Jade disregarded your feelings," you replied gently. "But you should respect his feelings too. Breaking his terrarium wasn't the right way to handle it."

Your words struck a chord with Floyd, and he felt a pang of remorse for his impulsive actions. He knew better than anyone else how much time and effort Jade devoted to caring for his cherished terrariums, often staying up late into the night to tend to them.

"Aww man... Shrimpy's right," he muttered, feeling the weight of his mistake. "Jeez, what do I do now?"

You offered a reassuring smile, glad that his anger had dissipated. "It's never too late to make things right. The best place to start is always an apology," you suggested. "There, all done," you murmured as you finished placing an island dressing bandage on his face, a smile forming on your face at the job well done.

Floyd, meanwhile, stared at you in a daze, your close proximity allowing him to notice all the little details on your face. He felt his cheeks warm as a gentle affection slowly bubbled inside him. Your genuine care and gentle touch had triggered something deep within him, and he found himself feeling drawn to your presence.

"Floyd!" a familiar voice broke him out of his daze. "There you are!"

Jade stood at the front of the alley, slightly panting as if he had been rushing around. You nudged Floyd gently, having recognized that the man must be his brother, and gave him a reassuring nod.

Floyd glanced at his brother, momentarily torn between his pride and guilt. But he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice steady as he said, "Jade, sorry... I shouldn't have broken your terrarium, and it was wrong..." He confessed. "But I don't want to eat any of those weird things again!" he exclaimed with a pout.

Jade's initial surprise gave way to a soft smile, appreciating Floyd's rare willingness to apologize and make amends.

"I understand, Floyd," Jade replied, his tone more understanding now. "And I apologise as well. I should have listened to you and respected your preferences."

Floyd's pout softened as he realized that his brother was willing to meet him halfway. "Really?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Jade nodded. "Yes, really. Though I do not wish to, I will stop using mushrooms for your meals."

"Wait..." you blurted, turning to look at Floyd. "This whole time, the weird ingredients you've been talking about are mushrooms?"

At he nodded furiously, your incredulous expression only intensified. "But mushrooms are so delicious! Why would you hate them?"

Before Floyd could even start to complain, Jade approached you and clasped both of you hands, his eyes alit with surprise and excitement. "I'm delighted to meet a fellow mushroom lover! Would you like to join me on a mushroom foraging trip in the mountains?"

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. As you tried to muster up a response, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you backward to meet his sturdy chest. It was Floyd, and you could feel his warmth and presence enveloping you, his chin resting on top of your head, his hair tickling your forehead.

"No way! Go get your own Shrimpy! This one's mine!" Floyd exclaimed, his arms tightening around you possessively to prove his point.

Jade's lips spread into a wide smile, his sharp teeth showing playfully. "Now now, Floyd, I do believe you've broken a precious terrarium of mine," he hummed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's only fair that you give me something for reparations."

"Nuh-uh! As if I'd let you steal my Shrimpy!" Floyd said. In a fluid motion, he picked you up and started running off with you, while you scrambled to hold on tight to him.

You couldn't help but squeal as the unexpected playfulness unfolded. "W-wait! Floyd! Put me down!"

"Nope! You're my cleaner Shrimpy now! I'm not lettin' you go!" Floyd declared, his voice lighthearted and full of joy.

Maybe you should have been more concerned by his words, but you found yourself so captivated by his joyful and innocent laugh, that you couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles with him.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[wriothesleybear]

A True Angel Amongst Us

~warnings: Some angst but ends with fluff, insecure Sunday, slight story spoilers, fem!reader, 1.9k words.

~a/n: I've been wanting to write for Sunday for a while now and the first thing I write has angst ;-; I've been having trouble coming up with ideas for him, but after the 2.1 patch, I've wanted to write fluff for him and about his insecure side because I feel like he sort of has one deep down. Angel just needs some love.

Sunday has been tenser than usual lately. The stress from the loss of his dear sister, the struggle of finding her murderer, and the stress from the possibility of a traitor being amongst The Family and the pressure from his master being the main cause of his tension. He puts on a mask and pretends that everything is fine to ensure that The Family's image isn't tarnished, but behind closed doors is different. When he's alone, he just stares off into space, lost deep in the sea of his endless thoughts. Even with you, his dear wife, he puts on a mask sometimes. He doesn't want to worry you and show you the strong leader that he is, who is capable of overcoming any obstacles and who will deliver righteousness when the day comes.

But no matter how much he tries to hide his weaknesses, you can see beyond his mask. You notice in the way his shoulders are always tense, his hands in fists, the frown that lingers on his face when he thinks you aren't looking, and the way he's less talkative during your limited time together. You hate seeing your husband this way, knowing he's bottling everything up inside. It's only a matter of time until it all bubbles up and he eventually snaps.

You decide to visit him in his dreamscape mansion office. You hadn't seen him all day due to him being busy with work. You weren't even able to see him off this morning as his side of the bed was already empty and made up. Knocking on his door, he tells you to come in. "What brings you here my dear?" He says with his masked emotions. Your eyes survey his office, noticing how it's a bit messier than usual even for Sunday's standards. He usually has everything in perfect shape given his ocd. Nothing was ever out of place for him unless something was wrong, further proving your suspicions. He notices how your eyes survey his office, the look of concern on your face is apparent. "I wanted to check in on you, my love. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You offer him a gentle, kind smile. "Of course I'm doing well. Why wouldn't I be? As head of The Family, it is my duty to be competent to fulfill my role." He gives you a smile, but it's not a real one. It's one of those fake smiles he puts on for show when out in the public eye.

"Sunday. I know something's bothering you. Please, just talk to me." His smile falters, his fake smile fading as he contemplates your words. You had been worried about him ever since the death of his sister. As the caring wife you are, you've been by his side, making sure that he was doing alright. Bless your soul, but with all the questions and pity stares, he couldn't help but get disgruntled. He knows you meant well, but his insecurity couldn't help but get the better of him. He thought you saw him as weak. I mean, he couldn't protect his dear sister for god's sake. It's his duty to protect those he cares about and he failed. He surveys your face while lost in his thoughts. His train of thought is broken by your calls of his name. He plasters on his fake smile.

"Dear, there's no need to worry about me. Or do you truly believe I'm just that weak?" You're taken aback from his accusation. You gather your courage and try to shut down his allegation. "Of course I don't. You're the strongest person I know, Sunday. It's just.. I can tell you're undergoing a lot of stress lately given the loss of your sister and work. I want to help you." By now his fake smile has fallen completely, replaced with a emotionless look. Turning away from you, his back faces you, making you unable to see the pain on his facial features. "I'm fine. You should leave, dear.." You could hear the coldness in his tone. The emptiness in his words sending slight shivers down your spine. You try to protest and get him to open up to you, but he cuts you off. "Don't let me tell you twice." He says in a strict voice, void of emotion. You hesitate but respect his wishes. You turn to leave without another word said. He doesn't even notice the breath he was holding until the door shut behind you.

~

Later that night, you lay wide awake in bed. Thoughts of your earlier event with Sunday replay in your head. After you left Sunday's office, you thought everything would be okay by dinnertime, but he never showed. You tried not to take it to heart too much, taking in consideration what he's going through right now, but when it got to midnight and he still hadn't arrived home, you began to feel worse. You've known Sunday for years. You knew how he was raised to become the perfect leader to represent The Family. He was a strong leader who believed in righteousness, in helping those in need, and caring for the people of Penacony. You know he's the kindest and most compassionate person with many strengths, but you also knew that he had many insecurities. He was scared that others would see him as weak and he was worried that everything he worked so hard for would be taken from him. Getting tired of wallowing in your thoughts, you finally decide to find him and try to get him to talk to you one way or another.

Arriving to his office once again, you knock on the door and patiently wait for an answer. "Sunday? It's me. Can I come in?" No answer. Maybe he was shunning you, but you weren't one to back down and walk away. You weren't going to give up on your husband. "Sunday. I'm coming in." Grabbing the door knob, you push the door open and are welcomed to a dark office. The only faint light coming from the windows in his office. Even with the limited lighting, you were able to see that Sunday's office was a bigger mess than earlier. Papers and books were thrown about the floor, the miniature display of Penacony in ruins. Worried, you continue to scan the room until your eyes land on the man slumped over his desk. Walking over to him, you observe his appearance. His clothes are in disarray, coat thrown recklessly on the chair, his wings and hair disheveled. "Sunday.." You hesitate for a second before resting a hand on his head. He tenses from your touch, causing you to withdrawal your hand. "Darling? What happened?" You ask in the most gentlest voice you could muster while trying not to push him too hard to talk. He doesn't reply to you. He keeps his head down on his desk, not willing to move an inch.

You quietly sigh. "Sunday. I understand if you don't like me pestering you with worries and questions. I'm your wife and I care about you. I'm only trying to be there to support you. I am here to support you. For anything. I'm here." Silence. You didn't expect him to reply but you wanted him to hear you out. "I'll give you your space, but just know, I'm here for you with open arms when and if you need to talk." You turn to walk away but suddenly, you're stopped in your tracks by a hand grabbing your wrist. Turning your head back, you see that Sunday is finally looking at you. You can see the pain in his eyes and by how his hand slightly shakes. Without saying anything, you turn your body to fully face him and open your arms wide, silently welcoming him into your arms.

He doesn't waste another second and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his body slightly shaking as you hold him close. "It's okay Sunday. You don't need to hide from me. I won't judge you. Please, don't push me away. I'm here for you." You gently whisper as you stroke his hair. He doesn't speak, all that's heard is his deep, shaky breaths as he tries to control his emotions. It's taking all his willpower to not breakdown crying right there.

"Can you look at me darling?" He's hesitant, but eventually pulls his head away from your body without releasing his hold around your waist. He looks up at you. You notice the painful expression that graces his beautiful features. His golden eyes water as he tries to prevent the tears from falling. He hates showing weakness let alone looking weak in front of you. You cup his cheeks as you search his eyes, giving him a gentle smile. "It's okay to show weakness sometimes, my love. You're the strongest person I know and nothing will change the way I feel about you. I will always see you as the strongest, most caring leader and husband."

Without realizing, tears have begun to fall from Sunday's eyes as he listens to your reassuring words. Your thumbs move to wipe his tears. "I'm...I'm sorry...for pushing you away." He quietly says, his voice slightly cracking. "There's no reason to apologize, Sunday. I know you didn't mean to. I don't blame you." He feels guilty and embarrassed as he tries to move away so you don't see him cry, but you stop him. "It's okay to cry my love. Let it out if it'll help you feel better." He can feel the love through your words and the look you give him, causing more tears to fall. All you do is give him a comforting smile and continue to rub his wet cheeks as he lets his emotions out. You lean down and press a kiss to his left cheek. He gasps, surprised by your sudden action. You switch to his other cheek and continue to kiss his tears away. You leave one final kiss on his forehead and pull his face into your chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want my angel." He buries his head further into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you comfort him.

You can feel his body relaxing as he continues to bask in your comforting hold. "Thank you, my love. You are the true angel amongst us." You giggle and continue to hold him close for as long as he needs, occasionally giving him words of comfort and gently stroking his hair and back. You'll wait as long as it takes until he's ready to talk to you, but he understands now that he has you to catch him when he falls and he'll never push you away again.

[sinfulforrest]

Full of many thoughts tonight...I wanna make a yandere oc that's essentially a building-like entity that wants you and will do anything to keep you within it...the structure of it is fleshy and full of gore, but uncanny blends of normal arcitrcture seamlessly meld into the living tissue to make a strange hellscape that you can't escape from.

It creates an 'ideal' human form to take in order to interact with you, to take care of you, to love and nurture you and your fragile human body. This shell can't leave from the depths of whatever the hell you're trapped in as it gets too weak away from its body otherwise, so it goes above and beyond with keeping you under its surveillance and care.

It'd feed you prey that it drags in, or pieces of its own flesh that the shell lovingly carves away from the walls with tears in its eyes, smiling unnaturally as it forces the raw flesh into your mouth. Loving you is so painful, but in a beautiful way; it doesn't know how to put the feeling into words yet, but it hopes that one day it can explain it to you.

It loves being able to surround you completely and nurture you within it, often times using its shell to force place you within a fleshy patch so it can wrap its slick tendrils around you and spend some quality time with you...the more you struggle and thrash against its love, the more that you sink into the suffocating flesh and the tighter its tentacles secure you into your rightful place. You will rest and lay with it.

The shell often becomes unstable, not being able to hold a human form for a little while as it experiences intense emotions towards you, being reduced to a shambling mess of flesh and bone that constantly reaches for you with malformed, sinewy limbs whilst it constantly whispers your name over, and over. Even when you cover your ears, its voice penetrates your thoughts and chips away at your sanity over time, becoming more relaxing and soothing as it whispers its never-ending confessions of love to your very soul.

(More Home posts can be found on its masterlist!)

[bloodiedrogue]

FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you. 

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.” 

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust. 

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan. 

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince. 

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin. 

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire. 

“All by your lonesome?” 

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again. 

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back. 

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you. 

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air. 

“Wanted what?”

“You know.” 

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting. 

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips. 

“What? That I want to fuck you?” 

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch. 

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group. 

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you. 

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left. 

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter. 

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?” 

“Smell w—“

  Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” 

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.” 

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?” 

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half. 

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile. 

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.” 

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo. 

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows. 

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse. 

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same. 

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.” 

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best. 

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions. 

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out. 

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch. 

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help. 

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?” 

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new. 

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him. 

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons. 

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down. 

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose. 

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero. 

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins. 

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information. 

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.” 

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.” 

“Nope.” 

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum. 

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.” 

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice. 

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable. 

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?” 

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.” 

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat. 

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?” 

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.” 

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?” 

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.” 

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.” 

Lover, huh? 

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose. 

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard. 

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground. 

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done. 

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away. 

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him. 

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised. 

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay. 

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?” 

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath. 

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation. 

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured. 

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through. 

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten. 

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.” 

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you. 

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself. 

“I couldn’t let him take you.” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.” 

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?” 

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

-

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[colourstreakgryffin]

Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owes you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)