#also i like having companions because it's nice not being alone

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for Completed Fics 70K+ Words

13 fics here in all! 8 of them are even above 100K! That's some impressive dedication.

All of these fics will be in my Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2024 Collection, and if you like that, please consider checking out my other collections, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2023, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2022, and Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics - Misc. Years.

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Open My Eyes by @buggachat

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was. (Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.) (But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.) “And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?” (Adrien has some things to find out.)

If you want to see Adrien's response to finding out - well, everything - then this might be the fic for you! He's breaking down pretty badly even with just being an orphan now, so finding out all the awful truths? It's a lot. If you want to see some major emotional reactions and blow-ups, this is the fic for you! Though of course Adrien's put back together at the end as well, buggachat isn't the sort to just leave Adrien to flail without support for long or to have Adrien's and Marinette's relationship remain super strained.

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The Course of True Love by @nedjsmlfavs

Dark Cupid haunts Marinette. Do the events of that fateful day mean that Adrien isn’t her True Love? With a little help from Chat Noir - who has absolutely no personal stakes in this matter - she’s sure to find out. She’ll also learn the unfortunate truth: the course of true love never did run smooth.

So this is adorable, there's some nice Ladrien dating in here! Though also some angst, Chat Blanc still takes place in this storyline, as does a Hawkmoth takedown, and all the angst and trauma that goes with those things. But with Marinette and Adrien together, the two of them can handle anything.

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Finding A Way by @uptoolateart

Collège is nearly over! And what better way to celebrate than a class trip to Costa Rica? But with only a month left to tell Adrien she loves him, Marinette is feeling the pressure. Then – an accident at sea leaves them stranded together on a tropical island…alone. Or are they? Because those footprints in the sand don’t resemble any bird they’ve seen before. And what’s that roaring sound coming from the jungle? ‘Adrien…where ARE we??’ ***** A Jurassic Park / Camp Cretaceous AU that’s been kicking around in my head for over a year

I love the sense of danger permeating this fic, it really feels like Adrien and Marinette are stranded on Jurassic Park (well it's called something else in order to integrate it better into the ML universe, but it operates like Jurassic Park). They're making the best of it though, doing their best to survive - and along the way, getting closer together.

I like that it's not JUST them though, Gabriel and Nathalie find out where they ended up pretty early on and go to rescue them, with Alya and Nino stowing away. It was cool to see that side of things as well.

Oh yeah, this fic is rated M for violence and gore. It's because dinosaurs eat people alive and leave their body parts everywhere. If you can handle the Jurassic Park movie (or presumably the book the movie was based on, but I haven't read that), then you should be just fine.

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Symbiotic Whiskers by B1ackout

Adrien Agreste aka Cat Noir was given the cat ring miraculous to help Ladybug in protecting Paris. But something had found him first, a silent companion that granted him strength and power he never knew existed. Bonded with a symbiote, Cat Noir faces Paris alongside Ladybug without even knowing that someone left a magical ring in his room. (Canon Divergence)

This is a phenomenal fic that deserves more attention. It's kind of funny how he just goes "hey I've got superpowers, she says that the thing we have that gives superpowers is called the Black Cat Miraculous and that the being that gives them is called a kwami, obviously that must be what I have!" though that gets stretched more and more as Adrien's experiences with the symbiote contradict what he's heard about how kwamis work, and Tikki gets increasingly worried about "Plagg's" weird behavior. It's a dark, somewhat brutal fic (people die permanently, and they're not always villains), and it's absolutely worth a read, this is an excellent crossover!

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Perfectly Platonic (Unless...) by @frostedpuffs

After accidentally revealing their identities in less than ideal circumstances, Adrien and Marinette must navigate their newfound relationship as both partners and friends. Becoming best friends was a quick process, but when romantic feelings begin to bleed into what's supposed to be a platonic connection, their friendship starts to change in more ways than one. Surely it can't be that hard to hide their feelings from their best friend? (A post-reveal, pre-relationship fic full of romantic crushes, best friend shenanigans, and a whole lot of dumbassery.)

If you just want a straight-up romance slowburn with these two just somehow being convinced their relationship is platonic (or that the other person wants it to be platonic at least), you'll find little better to scratch that itch than "Perfectly Platonic (Unless...)". It's a little smutty and definitely earns its M rating because of that. If you want mutual pining, there's a ton of that here!

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Dreaming Wide Awake by @uptoolateart

Gabriel died a hero. He sacrificed himself in the final battle against Monarch. Or so Adrien's been told. At least he has his mother there to help him through the grief. So what is this niggling feeling that this isn't how the story was meant to go? And why does he keep having flashes of another world that lies just beneath their own? --------- A follow-up to the Season 5 finale because I am inexpressibly disappointed by what happened in Re-Creation.

So if you wanted an exploration of what could happen post-season 5 and a fix-it for that season's finale, I highly recommend checking out this fic. I love how it explores Adrien's deteriorating mental state over time, how much he's struggling with what he's heard about his father and reconciling that with the abuse he's gone through at the man's hands. And then there's "Cerise" showing up, who rubs him the wrong way for reasons he can't fully lexplain, even to himself...

Pay attention to the title, it's not just there for flavor, it means something.

This fic is rated Mature, but I have no clue why. There's no sexual content and there's pretty minor amounts of violence or gore. I guess Adrien's not in the best place mentally, but it's nothing worthy of an M rating.

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Boulangerella by @aidanchaser

Once upon a time, magic was wild. The two princes of the kingdom have been tasked with choosing their brides by the end of their 21st birthday celebrations. Crown Prince Adrien Agreste will have to choose between a woman who can protect his kingdom, a woman offering the power to wake his sleeping mother, and the woman he has loved and admired for the past year. Then there's also the seamstress that he is suddenly falling for. By the time he realizes he doesn't have the power to choose at all, it may be too late.

I love a good fairy tale AU, and this is no exception. Aidanchaser started writing it before Season 5 came out, so it's wrong about some things. Most notably, Felix's posthumous father was a good and decent person here, and one of the twin rings is Felix's Amok while the other one is Adrien's Amok, instead of both of them being Adrien's Amok.

This was a well-crafted tale, with kwamis operating as Fae: they can give power, but only if the wielder gives something up to pay for it. For temporary usage of their power, it can be something small and innocuous, such as giving Plagg cheese in exchange for his help. More expansive uses of their power requires greater sacrifices however, even sacrificing more nebulous things such as memories or hope.

The kingdom's currently being terrorized by this unknown villain, Hawk Moth, as in the show. Ladybug and Chat Noir emerge to battle him, but for some reason (*cough, cough*), King Gabriel isn't fond of the superheroes and wants them captured.

Gabriel isn't the only threat out there, Lila's skulking around, hinting that she knows how to wake up Emilie from her mysterious illness, if only Adrien marries her. And she's not about to take no for an answer.

If you've been wanting a fairy tale/fantasy Miraculous AU, I recommend giving Boulangerella a shot!

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If I hold you too close by @bbutterflies

Paris didn’t come to a screeching halt for akumas anymore. They were so commonplace, so frequent, no one stopped their lives unless they were in danger. They trusted the heroes to fix everything if something did go wrong, save them if they got hurt. Adrien was still fighting the urge to find Plagg and go running into battle. Plagg wasn’t here, though. --- Post-season 5 where Adrien got sent to London sooner and gave up his Miraculous to keep Paris safe.

If you know this author, then you've probably already guessed that this is an Adrino fic (seriously if you like Adrino, check out bbutterflies fics, though honestly if you ARE an Adrino fan, you probably already have).

So in this scenario, Adrien was sent to London and didn't get to return, so he gave Plagg the ring so he could find another Holder. In this case, Nino. After a few years, once he's an adult, Adrien manages to come back from London, but he's in ROUGH shape. He drinks a lot, he has a reputation for partying hard and causing disruptions, and is really depressed and hates himself, and hates Felinoir (Nino's Black Cat form) even more, for having what he lost.

But even while Adrien's pushing everyone away to protect himself, his old friends refuse to give up on him, even though he's given up on himself.

While Adrien's problems are the primary focus of the fic, they're not the entire focus. Nino gets a POV, and he has personal issues and insecurities of his own. He has trouble holding down relationships, he doesn't have a lot of close friends these days, and he's struggling to keep up in school with all the akumas he's had to fight. He and Ladybug are fine coworkers, but they aren't much more than that - they aren't friends like Chat Noir and Ladybug were.

Oh, also, Nino's a transman. That's also caused some issues in making and keeping friends.

It's a beautiful story of one person hitting rock-bottom and gradually being pulled back out of it again, until they can stand on their own and push themselves up the rest of the way, and of a friend who discovers their childhood best friend (and crush) has changed enormously since they last saw them, and not in good ways - only to find that their friend is, at their core, still there. They just need help seeing it themselves.

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A Small but Stubborn Fire by @cardiac-agreste

What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything. So you assume the worst: Assault. Depression. A permanent rift in the family. And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news. -- Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

This is a more serious take on the consequences of Hawk Moth's war on Paris, with actual bloody, painful deaths as a consequence of many akumas, and Parisians developing PTSD because of what they've gone through. Ladybug can fix all the physical scars, but not the mental ones, including her own.

I love the focus on Sabine here. She's not just presented as being a mom - though of course that IS an important role she has. But she's explored as a character in her own right, one with a lot of emotional baggage as a result of her abusive mother, and trying to not fall into her mistakes, but sometimes doing so anyway out of fear for Marinette's safety. She's a really fleshed out, humanly flawed character, sometimes admitting that she would do something selfish if it means protecting the people she cares most about, like her daughter, even if its at others expense. She grows and changes a lot throughout the course of the story, her perspective on many matters changing multiple times as a result of getting new information or seeing the consequences of her previous approaches, and adjusting as a result.

If you want a fic that more realistically explores the dark consequences of Miraculous's setting, that fleshes out Sabine, or just develops a character in a complex way, then I highly recommend you check "A Small but Stubborn Fire" out!

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Made Miracles series by InkyIbis

A rewrite of Miraculous Ladybug (specifically with the miraculouses lore) with endgame Adrino! It mostly builds off the beginning canon and loosely off the later seasons with a lot more consequences than what the show has for when a magical terrorist shows up out of the blue. In that way, each book is considered like a season with the chapters being the episodes.

First fic in the series: Awaken

The previously white butterfly, now oozing black and purple as a conduit of the butterfly miraculous powers, flutters softly within the silvered-gloved hand. It sits there for a long time. "Go, my akuma," The soft sigh pushes the butterfly, the akuma, out towards the despair of a love not returned. The same ache within his chest. On a level so great that he's willing to sacrifice the city to mend it. It's okay if he's the villain for now. He'll force the miraculous of creation and destruction to be revealed, and once he gets his hands on them, none of this pain, none of his loss, will ever happen.

I put the first fic on my reclist for 2023, and now that the series is completed, I'm putting the whole thing on my reclist for 2024. If you want a rewrite of the series that gives Adrien top-billing, evens out Ladybug's and Chat Noir's power dynamic, is darker, and has Adrino as the main ship, then this series should be right up your alley.

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To Catch A Thief by @jheqiawrites

As a newly minted agent of INTERPOL, Marinette Dupain-Cheng scores the catch of a lifetime - nabbing the infamous thief and con artist Cat Noir. However, she's the only one who knows that he let her catch him. Soon her life turned upside down by a handsome, not quite reformed, thief who says she is the only person he trusts and they have bigger fish to fry: a secret criminal organization called AKUMA. Together, they solve cases and follow the illusive whispers about a man calling himself Monarch who never leaves a trace. What all is Cat Noir hiding? Will they expose the criminal underworld to the searing light of justice? And will Marinette fall for the man behind the masks?

This fic is inspired by a tv show called "White Collar", about a criminal informant and his handler solving cases. It does not follow the plotlines of that show, however, just the basic concept. While this is a No Powers AU, so there's now superpowers, the kwamis are human, etc, characters' personalities are still pretty intact.

Anyway, it's a lot of fun! I loved seeing Adrien's and Marinette's relationship develop, and the bureau slowly growing to like and trust Adrien, to want him to be safe and happy and to help him with his problems (it helps that his problems tend to be their problems as well, AKUMA doesn't like Chat Noir much.)

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A Breach In The Brooch by @piromina

Ladybug and Chat Noir are the heroes of Paris. Hawkmoth is Chat Noir's father. Chat Noir is aware of this. Hawkmoth is not.

So this is an interesting spin on the classic "Gabriel recruits Adrien early on to help him" plotline. Mostly because Adrien is still Chat Noir in this AND still helping Ladybug as a superhero - Gabriel has no clue about his secret identity.

Plagg, unsurprisingly, isn't thrilled about Adrien refusing to tell Ladybug what he knows about Hawkmoth's identity, and that Adrien keeps following Gabriel's orders, even when he knows they're wrong. Though he figures out before Adrien does that Adrien's compulsion to follow his father's orders isn't just a psychological thing...

I really love Plagg in this especially, he's the MVP. He knows what it's like to be compelled to do or not to do certain things, so he's good at comforting Adrien over it and at finding loopholes for him.

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Withered Wings by @11jj11

Nino wasn’t sure if anyone had ever willingly took the akuma butterfly before him, but with his mind completely open to this apparent son of Hawk Moth he knew that he couldn’t turn him away. Not someone that was so afraid, not someone who would be left at the mercy of Hawk Moth.

This fic is amazing! Just... some absolutely stellar Adrino, with some nice Alyanette on the side, AND it's one of the best Enemies AU (well, sort of. Adrien's on Hawkmoth's side, but Nino isn't, exactly), in the fandom! I love how much we get of Nino's perspective, his determination to save this boy who's been thrown into these battles, who clearly doesn't want to hurt people but is compelled to do so, while balancing it with trying to prevent damage to anyone else as well. He has to be the one to look after Adrien, because no one else will do so.

I also love the focus Alya gets here, as Marinette's partner. She does an amazing job in the role, with every Miraculous she gets, even though she isn't a perfect wielder.

That's something else, I like the bits of worldbuilding this adds in, with people who fully embody the aspect a kwami represents being able to transform more fully. That does not mean, however, that an imperfect match is a bad thing, the kwami and wielder can still be very strong together and get along well, even if they don't perfectly align.

I adore how Nino had to balance his roles in this, helping Adrien without hurting others, even fighting back against the heroes as needed, as much as he didn't want to. And how understanding people were when they found out the full story of what was going on. It's a truly fantastic story that anyone who likes Enemies AU, Adrino, or just want to read a good Miraculous fic should check out.

I do want to warn that Gabriel and Nathalie are significantly OOC in this. Gabriel's even more abusive and colder than he is in canon, and Nathalie is WAY worse. This fic started before season 5, so it wasn't known what Nathalie's red line would be. As a result, Adrien's more downtrodden than he is in canon, since the consequences of disobedience are worse than being cut off from friends, or even being made to sit in a blank white room indefinitely.

[sanguineterrain]

knight in shining helmet | jason todd

Summary: You're a princess who's visiting Gotham City. You weren't loving it to begin with—then you of course had to get kidnapped. Needless to say, your expectations of the night are in hell. You're hoping, at least, that you'll be rescued by the famous Batman. Instead, it's the infamous Red Hood that finds you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x princess!fem!reader 

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings/tags: kidnapping, rescue, reader and jason don't get along at first, violence, drugging, meet-ugly, 7-eleven food as a courting strategy, kissing, softie jason (he always makes an appearance somehow!), strangers to...not-so-strangers.

the divider

You suppose that, for a princess, you ought to have expected a kidnapping to pan out at least once in your life. 

You just didn't think it would happen tonight. In Gotham City. A place you weren't loving to begin with. 

“Unhand me!” you scream as soon as your taker's filthy, sweaty hand leaves your face. “You'll be executed for this!”

You're not actually sure of Gotham's death penalty policy, but you feel like it's something you should throw in. In any case, the three men who've dragged you away, tied you up, and bruised you in the process, should be a little more afraid of getting caught. 

“Batman will find you,” you add. “He'll save me.” You've heard great tales of Gotham's hero. If anyone can help you, it's him. 

That makes one of them pause. But the ringleader sneers at you. “If he finds us. He's got a lot on his plate every night, ya Majesty.”

“I am a priority guest in this city, of course he would—”

“Shut her up,” the leader snaps, and suddenly, you're being gagged. Disgusting. Completely unsanitary. You don’t want to imagine if the gag has ever been washed.

You keep screaming and fighting through the gag until a needle pricks your neck. Your terror spikes as you realize there's suddenly an ultimatum to the fear: either Batman finds you in time, or he doesn't.

That's your last thought as the drug renders you unconscious. 

When you awaken, it's still nighttime. Nearly pitch black, except for a dim lightbulb in the center of the room. It looks like you're in some kind of warehouse. You can't see much of anything and it makes you claustrophobic. Your head aches and your vision is blurry, and your cheek is pressed against a grimy floor. You just want to go home.

You try to sit up first, but that nearly makes you throw up, and you do not want to throw up through this ratty gag. So you swallow the feeling and close your eyes, waiting until the nausea passes. You open your eyes and they begin to adjust to the darkness. You’re alone, which confuses you.

Then you spot the explosives hooked up at the bottom of your dress.

The good news is that your kidnappers aren’t here. The bad news is that the reason they aren’t here is because they can remotely explode this place and you inside of it. If they don’t get the ransom they’re no doubt demanding, tonight will be your first and last night in Gotham. 

Another thought chills you to your bone: what if the explosives are set to go off whether they get the ransom or not?

You squeeze your eyes shut as the tears come. You’re going to die.

But wait. Maybe not. Surely, Batman is looking for you. And his young, brightly-colored companion. You never understood that color palette choice.

They’ll save you. Your father has no doubt alerted authorities. You’re the most important person in the city tonight! Of course people are looking for you. 

Yes, you’ll be saved, the criminals will be punished to the highest extent of the law, and you’ll be escorted back to your hotel where you can take a long, luxurious bath. That’ll be very nice. 

You’ll also never visit Gotham again, that is for sure. 

The door to the warehouse rolls open with a boom. You flinch and squint, trying to make out the figure. If it’s your kidnapper, you want to act like you’re still asleep. You think you saw that trick in a film at the cinema you snuck out to watch when you were young. You didn’t catch the whole film, though—you were found out by your guards before you could. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you’d watched the whole film!

As the figure gets closer, you realize firstly that he’s a lot bigger than your kidnappers. You sigh in relief. Batman.

“‘Lo?” asks a gruff voice. “Anybody here?”

You shout through your gag. You can’t make out a face, but it’s alright. Relief floods you. You’re saved.

Your savior jogs to you. You tilt your head as you make out a… red helmet? With glowing eyes?

Wait a minute.

“Holy shit,” Not-Batman says. He pulls out your gag first. “Y’okay?”

Realization strikes you; you recall a story one of the party guests shared earlier in the night about a crime lord and his terror on Gotham.

"You're that terrible gangster that left a duffle bag of heads!" you blurt.

"In the flesh," he says, tapping the barrel of his gun to his helmet in a salute. Red Hood. “You don’t look very happy to see me, all things considered.”

“I don’t want your help!” you say, wriggling away from him. “I’m in an alliance with The Batman!”

He tilts his head. “‘S that so? What alliance would that be? Beauty Pageant Runaways For Bats?”

“I am not a beauty pageant contestant,” you say hotly. “I am a princess, and I have a small militia looking for me.”

He kneels in front of you, holstering his gun. His one of many, many guns. Your skin itches with sweat and adrenaline as he approaches. Those glowing eyes in his helmet flip your stomach. This is all wrong. You're supposed to be saved by a hero, not an outlaw. A criminal.

“Princess, huh?” Hood nods. “Ah, yeah. I heard somethin’ about that. They took you from the Plaza. Just my luck that I’d run into ya.”

“You mean, you weren’t actively looking for me?” you ask in a small voice. 

“Nope. You’ve got every vigilante and cop in the city looking for you, Your Highness. I came in here ‘cause I smelled motor oil.” 

Now that he’s found you, what does he plan to do?

“Are… are you going to release me?” you ask.

“Depends. Is this place rigged to blow?”

“My dress,” you say, unsure whether you should let him know about the explosives. A man who leaves severed heads in a duffel bag doesn’t seem wrapped up too tightly. 

“Hm?” Hood lifts your skirt slightly. He whistles. “Damn. This is some excellent work. Whoever did this is a pro demolitions expert.”

His praise doesn’t comfort you, oddly enough.

“Is it live?” you ask.

“Doesn’t look like it. And I’ve got a lot of experience with explosives. Just stay still for now.”

Hood squats and pulls out a knife. You shift. He's bigger than you even like this, crouched at your level. His shoulders nearly block your entire view. 

“Who were they?” he asks.

“Who was who?”

“The people that took you.”

“I don't know. They were wearing masks. Three men,” you say, frozen as he takes the knife to your feet.

“Mm.”

Hood begins to cut the ropes around your ankles. You delicately point your feet, unsure if he'll slip and get you. 

Your lip curls. "Where's Batman? Or that boy who works with him? Aren't they in charge of this city? I want to speak to one of them."

“I don’t work for the Bats,” he says, an edge to his words.

“Well, I don’t feel comfortable with you rescuing me,” you say. “You’re a criminal.”

Hood stops cutting and looks at you. "Y'want Batman? Fine. I don't mind letting you wait around for the Bat.”

He pockets the knife and rises, walking out of the warehouse and disappearing. Just like that. Your heart jumps.

"Wait!" you shout, squirming in your binds. "Wait, come back!"

But it's silent. Panic digs its claws into your chest.

"Red Hood! Red Hood, come back! Please!"

You begin to cry out of desperation, tears dripping onto your already soiled dress. You try to pull your feet apart, but the rope isn't cut enough and all you do is worsen the burns around your ankles.

You bow your head and cry onto the floor. You just want to go home. You want your goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton ten-thousand thread count sheets. More than that, you never want to return to this stupid city.

"Are you cryin'?"

Your head shoots up. Hood stands over you, arms folded. 

"You-you came back," you say, voice wobbly.

He shrugs. "I had an inkling that you had a change of heart, princess.”

You look away. "You left me.”

"I did,” he says. “But as much as you might deserve abandonment, I'm duty-bound to rescue everyone. No matter how obnoxious of a Batman fan they are."

"I'm not a fan. I just didn't want the morally corrupt, violent drug runner to save me."

He leans down and snaps away the ropes from your ankles—a feat of strength that doesn't go unnoticed. Then he saws the ones around your wrists. "Yeah, well, I don't do that anymore, and for such a pretty face, you suck at sweet talking."

He tosses the rope aside and pockets the knife. You rub your wrists and attempt to sit up. This time, you don’t want to throw up. Success! 

“Anything hurt?” he asks. 

“My legs,” you say miserably. 

“Okay, let me rephrase: anything that'll make you bleed out in the next ten seconds?”

“Um… no.”

“Fantastic. I can probably getcha back to your hotel in an hour.” 

You hold out your arms expectantly. He tuts.

“I don’t give hugs until the third kidnapping. Fourth one is free.”

You huff. “You expect me to walk like this? They took my shoes! Gotham is so uncouth.”

“And what am I s’posed to do about that?” Hood asks. “I look like a Payless to you?”

“I don’t know what that is,” you say. “Don’t you vigilantes have a protocol to follow? I cannot possibly walk through this filthy warehouse on my bare feet. I’ll catch a virus! You’ll have to carry me.”

Hood lets out a full-bellied laugh. It’s somewhat eerie through his modulator. You lift your chin, maintaining your composure. 

“Oh my God! Highness, you’re a diamond-encrusted piece of work. I don’t carry anybody unless they’re unconscious and I like ‘em a lot. It’s a short list.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m a guest in your city, and I’ve been kidnapped! The least you can do—”

“The least I can do is leave you to rot here,” Hood says, tone cutting. “Or let your kidnappers come back and finish the job. You aren’t in whatever palace they carted you out of; you’re in fuckin’ Gotham, and if y’want my help, you’re gonna suck it up and walk.”

You look away, tears brimming once more. You sniffle. 

“You don't have to be so mean,” you say, voice watery. “I’ve had a difficult night.” 

It's quiet for a few moments. You've never cried as much as you have tonight, especially not in front of a stranger. A dangerous stranger. 

“...Look, I think I got some spare boots,” Hood finally says. “Stay here.”

“Where would I go?” you mumble. Whether he hears you or not, he doesn’t reply, stalking out of the warehouse. He returns thirty seconds later with a pair of ugly, black, man boots. 

“Used?!” you ask, voice high.

“Lightly, Your Majesty. They’re my spares. Here.”

Hood tosses the boots at you. You stare at them like he’s flung a pair of rats at you. He taps his wrist.

“Time’s a-ticking, princess. I’m on a schedule. I can always let you wait for Batman. He’ll find ya. Eventually.”

So you put on the boots. 

You attempt to stand next, but the drugs and binds have made your limbs weak. You try and fail to get up twice before Hood hooks his arms under yours and hauls you up without a sweat. You squeal, fingers digging into his brown leather jacket. 

He towers over you, doubly intimidating now that you're standing. 

“Got it?” he asks, arms slipping away. 

You definitely don’t have it, and you wobble backward. Hood grabs you again, hand on your back. 

“Whoa. Easy.” Hood cups your face, a little rough. You squirm, mind flooded with all the germs that are probably on his gloves. “Look a'me. Look—stop fighting, Jesus Christ.”

“This is no way to treat a princess!”

“Yeah, I missed that day of training,” he says dryly. “Stay still, I'm tryna see if your pupils are dilated.” 

“Your grip hurts!”

Hood loosens his grip and manages to keep you still long enough to examine your eyes. He hums and lets go.

“Seems like you’re still feeling the effects. Should wear off soon. Now…”

Hood steps back, but not so far that you can’t grab onto him should you fall again. He gives your dress a onceover. 

“So that’s not gonna work.” He takes out his knife again. Your eyes widen. 

“What on earth are you doing with that?” you ask, taking a small step backwards.

“Cutting your dress,” he says, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

You gasp, backing away. “No you will not!”

“Princess—”

“This dress is one-of-a-kind, handmade for tonight’s gala. You’re not going near it! It cost seventeen thousand euros!” 

“Is it worth more than your life?” Hood snaps. “I don’t have any spare clothes and I’m not dragging a ballgown with three pounds of C-4 attached to it around. You have to be able to move and you have to get on my bike. Now quit whining.”

You sulk as he cuts and tears the bottom layer of your gown. He isn’t as savage about it as you expect: the cut is neat and could even be salvaged in the hands of a good seamstress. The night air makes your legs prickle with goosebumps. Then his words register.

“Bike?” you ask as Hood sets your dress remains aside. You’ll grieve for your dress privately.

“Mmhm.”

“I thought you had a Batmobile.”

“That’s Batman’s car. Hence the name. I have a bike ‘cause I’m a morally corrupt, violent, drug runner.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Can’t we take a taxi? Or call a car service?”

Hood snorts. “No one’s driving to this part of Gotham at this hour. It’s my bike or nothing. Or, of course, you can wait for Batsy.”

He starts walking and you hurry to follow. Hood’s strides are long and you’re unsteady in his too-big boots.

“Can you please slow down? These boots are enormous!”

He doesn’t say anything, but he does slow down, waiting until you catch up before leading you to his bike. It’s a nice motorcycle, you suppose, if you were into that thing. You’ve always thought motorcycles were a stupid risk to take. Being on the road is dangerous enough—why remove the comfort and protection of a car?

Hood’s bike is shiny and cherry red, just like his helmet. He produces a proper motorcycle helmet from nowhere and hands it to you. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask, inspecting the helmet. It looks fairly clean and unused. 

“Hasn’t killed me yet, and I’ve been dead once.”

Is that his idea of a joke?

“You’ll be fine,” Hood says at your silence. “I’ll go slow.”

“Alright,” you say, putting on the helmet. It smells oddly pleasant, like spicy cologne. “Very slow.”

“Yeah, yeah, very slow. C’mon.”

Hood kicks a leg over the bike and straddles it, all muscle memory. His muscles flex as he bends his legs. He pats the space behind him. 

Cautiously, you attempt to do the same, but you soon realize that doing that exact move in a dress is probably not the smartest. You hold onto the seat with both hands instead and clumsily try to fold a leg over. It doesn’t work.

“Yo, Bambi. This century would be good.”

“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle!” you say, glaring at the back of his helmet. “You could help me.”

“For fuck's—” 

Hood turns around, grabs the back of your calf, and pulls. Your legs part and you shriek, certain you’re about to flash him. He holds your waist as you flail so that you don’t bang into him as you sit. 

“What is wrong with you?” you hiss, smoothing down your dress.

“Re-lax, I didn’t see anything.”

“This is highly undignified—”

“Yeah, we don't really do dignified in Gotham, princess. Comfy?”

“No.”

“Mm. Hold my waist.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all ya want.” Hood takes your arms and wraps them tightly around his waist. He’s warm and, oddly enough, soft despite his bulk. “You’re drugged and unsteady. If y’don’t hold on, you’re gonna fly off. Press up against me and hold tight.”

“Go slow,” you say again, obediently holding his waist.

“Yeah, I’ll go slow,” he says. 

“Do you promise?”

“Promise.”

Hood turns the ignition. The bike roars to life, louder than you expected. You suck in a breath as he revs the engine and starts off.

True to his word (and what a flimsy word it is), Hood goes slow. He takes gentle, easy turns and breaks at all the stop signs, even though this part of the city is essentially abandoned at this hour. You’re able to study the streets, twinkling streetlights a little too bright to your recovering eyes. But you look anyway, shocked at the dilapidated buildings and uneven pavement. You’re definitely not in the Gotham you were earlier tonight. It hardly looks like the same city.

You turn your attention to your savior. It feels like an odd word to use for the Red Hood, whom you’ve heard enough about tonight. Your father had warned you excessively about what a dangerous area this was, and who exactly made it so dangerous. 

But a savior is exactly what Hood has been to you. You decide that, despite his roughness, he still deserves a good reward. Perhaps a Hoodmobile. Or new boots.

Your rescue is going smoothly until you cross the bridge. That’s when another biker turns onto the road behind you. 

“Shit,” Hood says, and you’re startled that you can hear him so clearly despite the noise. It’s like he’s in your head. “We’re being tailed.”

Well, that’s not good. You turn around briefly but you can’t make out your follower; you’re too scared to move on the bike.

But then you hear the bike behind you speed up. 

“Motherfucker,” Hood says, and speeds up. Your arms tighten into a death grip. 

“Hold on,” he says, like you'd do anything otherwise. 

Hood speeds up and takes a sharp left turn. You tense and yelp, squeezing your eyes shut. He takes several winding turns and you keep your eyes shut through all of them. The nausea has returned and you’d prefer not to ruin the inside of his helmet with your stomach contents.

“We lose him?” he asks when the road levels off and it doesn’t feel so much like you’re on a rollercoaster.

“Um…” you begin, and chance turning around.

It’s clear for a few seconds until…

Well, to echo Hood’s sentiment: motherfucker.

“He’s there!” you yell, and Hood growls.

“The helmets are mic’d, you don’t have to shout,” he says, leaning into a left turn. 

“I see him!” you say, and grab one of Hood’s holstered guns. He scrambles to grab it but misses, surprise slowing him down.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!���

You ignore him and take off the safety. Moving your free arm up to Hood’s neck, you fire. He curses up a storm, throwing in a few words you’ve never even heard. 

The shots go wide; one dents a parked car, and one hits a stop sign. 

“You’re fuckin’ nuts!” Hood yells and snatches the gun out of your hand. 

But your tail falls back, evidently spooked enough by you and your poor aim. He turns on a side street and disappears.

“He’s gone! We’ve lost him!” you say happily. 

“Are you insane?” 

You wince at his volume. “The helmets are mic’d, you know.”

“You’re so—”

Hood cuts himself off and pulls sharply onto the sidewalk. He dismounts and pushes the kickstand down hard. Then he turns to you, chest heaving.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again. Are you crazy? You could’ve gotten us killed!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” you ask, putting out your arms. “We lost him!”

“No, we didn’t. All we did was throw him off our trail a little. We gotta walk the rest of the way now because he probably fell back to get more guys to follow us. But that’s not the point: what you did was insanely risky and stupid. You don’t know how to use a gun and you could’ve hurt yourself.”

You stay silent, chewing on his words. Hood isn’t wrong, he’s just… loud about it.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps. 

You don't reply. 

“I need a yes.”

“...I wanted to help.”

Hood sighs. “Yeah, well… just don’t. I’m good at what I do and I’ll get you back in one piece. But you gotta trust me.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. You feel small, but you don't want to cry in front of him again and confirm that you really are just a spoiled, whiny princess. “I'm sorry, Red Hood.”

You sit down on the curb, feeling exhausted. Tonight is awful. 

It's quiet for a long moment. Then Hood says, “Don't cry.”

Your jaw works as you swallow hard. “I'm not.” You turn your head so he won't see.  

“Christ on toast,” he mumbles above you. “This is exactly why I don't do rescue missions—”

You sniffle. “I'm not crying.”

“—’Cause I'm the world's biggest asshole,” he finishes, voice miles softer. 

Hood sinks onto the curb next to you. He scoots in just enough so that your shoulders brush against each other. 

“Look, ‘m a jerk. The Bats are better at handling civilians and being nice. You got the potty mouth with a bad attitude.” 

You rub your eyes. “I don't like yelling.” 

“Yeah,” Hood says quietly. “Okay. I'll try not to yell unless you're in immediate danger. But you can’t pull stunts like that. Deal?”

You nod. “I won't fire any more of your guns.”

He snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. Where’d you learn how to shoot, anyway? I mean, y’didn’t do it well, but you did it. Not half-bad for your first time in Gotham.”

“My father wanted me to learn gun sports,” you say. “I learned how to take the safety off and point and shoot, but I refused to do any more lessons after my instructor shot a duck for target practice. I think guns are uncivilized and destructive, and I don’t condone killing animals for sport.”

“Uncivilized unless you're getting tailed by kidnappers?” You think you detect a smile in his question. 

“Everything has its exceptions,” you say primly. 

“Ain't that the truth. C'mon, we should get moving. We're, ‘scuse the saying, sitting ducks out here.”

Hood stands first and offers you a hand. You take it, letting him pull you up. He does that so easily. It makes your spine tingle. 

“How far are we from my hotel?” you ask.

“‘Bout two miles. If I had my gear I'd call for an assist,” he says apologetically. “Wasn’t planning to save lost princesses tonight.”

“I don't suppose there's any chance that you'll carry me, is there?”

“Pretty and funny,” Hood says. “You're the whole package, beauty queen.”

Your snarky reply is cut off by your stomach growling. Your eyes widen. 

“Pardon me,” you say, mortified. 

“What, ‘cause you're hungry?” Hood asks. “‘S a normal human condition.”

“You don't know anything about royal manners,” you say, but you're relieved. Your father would give you a tight, deadly look if you were hungry in public. 

“No, I really don't. Born and bred Gotham, baby.” 

“Showing any signs of hunger or thirst around company is highly undignified,” you say. 

“Being a princess sounds exhausting.”

No arguments there. 

Hood starts walking. You scramble to follow, and he seems to remember your shorter stride and slows down. 

“There's a pretty decent 7-Eleven nearby,” he says. “I'd take ya to my favorite diner, but we're on a tight schedule. Those guys won’t be far behind.”

“A seven and eleven? Oh, I've heard of those!” you say. 

“I’m… glad you're so excited about convenience stores?”

“I saw it in a film once. My father didn’t catch me watching this one. It looked so rugged, eating in a convenience store and fighting crime afterward. I've never been to one.”

“I know I shouldn't be surprised considering how much your dress cost but it does kinda blow my mind that you've never tasted anything but the finest cuisine,” Hood says. “Wait, did you say your dad didn’t catch you?”

You hum. “He doesn’t like me watching films that aren’t pre-approved.”

“Wow. Y’know, I could pirate you some movies if y’want. I know a great website for it.”

You laugh. “That’s alright. I manage to sneak out to the cinema more than I used to, now that he’s older.”

“Pretty sneaky, beauty queen.” He sounds impressed. 

You shrug, trying to hide your pride. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

You turn on the corner and he leads you through a residential area. A few people outside of their apartments stare at you, but when they see Hood, they relax. 

“Red!” a little boy shouts from a fire escape. He waves excitedly. Hood waves back.

“Hope you’re listening to your ma,” Hood calls to him, mock-stern. To anyone else—to you—it would be unnerving. 

But the boy grins. “I am!”

“Then why aren't ya in bed, huh?” 

The boy shrugs. “Not tired. Who's the lady?”

“The lady is a princess, so be nice,” Hood says.

“Whoa!” The boy gapes at you. You wave at him and he jumps up from the window. 

“Mom!” he yells. “Red Hood found a princess!”

You giggle as Hood leads you away. 

He shakes his head. “Kids.” He sounds terribly fond. 

You stare at his back for a moment. 

“They like you,” you say. “You keep them safe. But you're also a friend.”

“Helps to earn their trust,” he says gruffly. 

You walk a little more in silence. 

“I was wrong about you, Hood,” you say. He doesn't look at you. 

“Lotta people are. Nothin’ new.” 

No, it probably isn't. 

“‘Kay, here we are. C’mon. We gotta be fast, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, following him into the 7-Eleven. 

“Hey, Benny,” Hood says to the tired cashier behind the counter.

Benny nods. “Long night?”

“You got no idea.” He gestures to you. “She’s a princess.”

“Sweet,” Benny says. “What’s up?”

“How do you do?” you say politely. 

Hood leads you to the rolling hot dogs and other cylindrical foods under the heat lamps. You frown.

“I have had a hot dog before,” you say. “I’m not that sheltered.”

“Yeah, but have ya had a buffalo ranch roller? My brother and I used to get these after patrol. That with a blue raspberry slushie? Heavenly after getting thrown into a dumpster.”

“Well, you’ve gotten me this far, so I suppose I’ll trust you,” you say.

“I’m flattered. Benny, my usual.”

Benny gives a thumbs-up and puts the ‘roller’ in a paper bag. Meanwhile, Hood takes you to the back where the slushie machine is. You watch as he fills a plastic cup with electric blue sludge. Your brows raise.

“Why is it that color?” you ask.

“Tasty chemicals,” Hood says cheerily. “It won’t kill ya, I promise.”

“That would be counterintuitive at this point,” you say. 

“I appreciate your faith in me, princess.”

You return to Benny, who rings up the food. “Five twenty-seven.”

Hood looks at you expectantly. You look at him.

“What?” you ask.

“This is the part where you pay,” he says.

“A princess never carries money on her person,” you say, like it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“You–” Hood looks at Benny and sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”

He pays and you take your treats, trotting out the door. 

“Thank you, kind sir!” you say as Hood waves. 

“See ya, Ben.”

You hold out your slushie for Hood to take while you work on your fried goodie.

“I’m not a cupholder,” he says, but he takes the cup anyway.

“It’s warm!” you say, delighted. “Let me take a bite.”

Hood patiently waits as you bite and chew. You hum.

“Good?” he asks.

“I like it,” you say. “It’s unusual. Is this chicken?”

“So they say,” Hood says. “Try the slushie.”

You take the cup and first take a small sip. It’s cold and sweet and slightly sour and probably full of enough sugar to rot your teeth out of your head. You love it.

“This is wonderful,” you say. 

He laughs. “Yup. Told ya, nothin’ like this combo. It’s a classic. C’mon, let’s get moving.”

You walk and eat, and it definitely improves your night, having something in your belly. 

“This is just like Roman Holiday,” you say.

Hood snorts. “I don’t think we watched the same movie.”

“It has a likeness. You’re Gregory Peck.”

“Yeah, sure. If Gregory Peck was a street fighter, then yeah. I’m Greg fuckin’ Peck.”

“No, you’re right. You’re much younger than he was in that movie. How old are you?” you ask.

“Twenty-four.”

“Really? Why are you doing this?”

“Took a career test.”

You bump his shoulder. “Seriously, Hood. You’re young. You’ve so much potential. I can tell that you’re smart.”

“Hence why I do this,” he says.

You tut, shaking your head. “That’s ridiculous. You could do more. Be more.”

“You’re just fulla charm, aren’t ya?” Hood says. 

Your next step is hesitant. Hood keeps walking. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” you say. “I guess I assumed…”

“Yeah, I know. You assume a lot, princess. And you’re wrong.”

“You made assumptions about me! You thought that I was stupid and naive and I’m not.”

Hood stops, turns. “Maybe I like doing what I do, huh? Ever think of that? I meant it when I said I’m not a criminal anymore. I help people.”

“I know that,” you say quietly. “I see how the citizens treat you. They like you. You care for them greatly. I just… I just meant that you could try new things too. If you wanted to.”

He’s quiet for a bit. You keep walking. 

“I didn’t think you were stupid,” he eventually says.

You scoff. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Yeah, I thought you were a little… sheltered. But you’re smart. You’re certainly tougher than your dad gives you credit for.”

You roll your eyes. “He still thinks I’m six years old. It takes me getting kidnapped to see a city.”

“Pretty shitty tour.”

You smile behind his back. “Oh, I don’t know. The tour guide is alright.”

Hood stops. When he doesn’t speak, you approach.

“Hood?”

He suddenly puts a hand over your mouth and drags you backwards into an alleyway. Your yelp is muffled. Hood puts a finger to where his mouth would be under his helmet.

That’s when you hear voices.

“—single fuckin’ clue. She could be in the fuckin’ Atlantic by now. Halfway to China!”

“China’s on the other side, dumbass.”

You look up at Hood, eyes wide. 

Those are your kidnappers' voices.

He seems to understand and nods. He squeezes your arm and removes his hand from your mouth. He points to himself and points outside, then points to you and points down. 

You assume that means stay put and don’t try to shoot anyone with his gun. You can take a hint.

Hood slinks out of the alley. You peek your head out to look, curiosity overtaking fear. Besides, you trust Hood. You figure with a reputation like his, he can more than handle his own. 

“Nice night, ain’t it?” he says. 

The two men turn, looking close to pissing themselves. Good.

“Hood, we weren’t doing nothin’!” one says.

“Yeah, Ricky and I are clean!”

“Oh, really? So you had nothing to do with the kidnapping of a certain visiting princess.”

“We was nowhere near the Plaza!” Ricky cries.

The other elbows his friend. Before you can blink, Hood has them both down on the ground, pistols pointed at their necks. 

“You were gonna hurt her,” Hood says, and now there’s no trace of humor in his voice. “That poor, sweet princess. Strapping C-4 to her like a fuckin’ bank vault. Drugging her, tying her up. You fuckin’ animals.”

“It wasn’t our idea, it was Bobby’s!” Ricky cries. 

“Shut up, Ricky!”

A shot rings out and you flinch. Ricky starts sobbing. Red seeps from his leg.

“The only reason I’m not killing you two right now is because I want a word with your boss. But make no mistake.” Hood leans in. “You’ll pay for hurting the princess. I’ll make sure of it.”

With two final hits, Hood knocks them out cold. The sudden silence is loud. 

He looks at you then, those eerie eyes glowing. He beckons you out. You go. 

You look down at the unconscious bodies. “You don’t have to kill them.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’d rather you didn’t. You shouldn’t have that on your conscience.”

“They kidnapped you. They would’ve hurt you had their boss ordered it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I don’t want you to bear that burden, Hood.”

“‘S not a burden,” he says, gently taking your wrist. Your eyes fly open. “If it’ll make you feel better, safer, anything. It’s no burden.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, frightened at how pleased a part of you is at his words.

“I’ll tie ‘em up and send for ‘em when we get back. One second.”

You watch as Hood drags their bodies into the alley like they’re sacks of feathers. He handcuffs them to a drainpipe and ties their feet and gags them. 

“So they can see what it feels like,” Hood says, dusting his hands. You can’t help your small smile. 

“Ready?” he asks.

You look up at the starless sky, suddenly exhausted. Your limbs feel like lead. “I guess so.”

Hood looks into the distance, then back at you. He sighs.

“Climb on my back.”

You blink. “Pardon me?”

“You’re pardoned.” Hood shrugs. “I can tell you’re tired. We don’t have far to go.”

“Won’t I be too heavy?” you ask. “All that way…”

“Princess, I’m honestly offended. I once carried Batman and my brother to Bludhaven. I’m more than capable.”

“But what about your rule?” you ask. “About carrying people.”

“Turns out you’re not so bad,” he says. “Get on ‘fore I change my mind.”

So you climb onto Hood’s back. He secures you easily, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Don’t choke me out,” he says. “Otherwise we’re both goin’ down.”

You smile and relax on his back. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

At first, it feels like an eternity, waiting for the familiar Plaza sign. You can’t complain, though: Hood is warm and being carried by him is even better than riding on his bike. 

You blink, startled at the thought. What are you even talking about? This is the Red Hood. You were terrified of him a few hours ago. 

And yet, the rhythmic bumping and Hood’s solid figure lulls you to sleep. You don’t even realize until you’re being nudged and a voice pulls you back to consciousness. 

“Hey.”

You’re gently jostled awake. You blink blearily, yawning into Hood’s shoulder.

Oh. Right. You’re on his back.

“Hm?” 

“Ride ends here,” he says. “We’re at the Plaza.”

“Oh.” Sleepily, you try to climb off. Hood sets you on your feet. Embarrassment fills you as you become more awake.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. You could’ve woken me! I—”

Hood holds up a hand. “Hey, chill out. ‘S fine. You had a long night, I get it.”

“Right. I, um…” You look up at the hotel. The top floor windows disappear in the layer of fog that’s settled over the city. You wonder what Hood’s windows look like. 

“I’m gonna track down your main kidnapper and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else. I’ll kick his ass, at the very least.”

You look at Hood, blinking. “Oh. That’s very nice of you, thank you.”

He shrugs. “‘S my job.”

You nod clumsily. “Right, of course. I could give you something in return, though. Money or, um, firearms. A car, perhaps?”

He snorts. You smile shyly. 

“Cute,” he says, but he’s not being mean. “No, that’s okay. I’m pretty set, actually. Doing what I do is surprisingly lucrative.”

“Surely there’s something—”

“Seriously, princess, no charge.”

You bite your lip. Is this too bold? Yes, definitely.

“What about a kiss?”

At first, you think Hood hasn’t heard you. Then he turns to face you in a way that tells you no, he definitely heard you. 

“Ex-cuse me?”

“Um.” You scratch your neck. “Well, princesses kiss their knights goodbye, don’t they?” you ask, but it’s weak. It’s stupid. You’re so young.

You think he’s going to just walk away. That would be the kindest thing to do in response to your blunder.

“I’m sorry, forgive me. That was a terrible joke,” you blurt.

“No, it wasn’t.”

He steps forward, close enough to kiss you if he didn’t have the helmet. You look up at him, heart pounding.

“Wasn’t terrible or wasn’t a joke?” you ask, blood roaring in your ears.

Hood’s quiet. 

“Haven’t done much kissing, to be honest with ya,” he finally says, not answering your question. 

You shake your head. “Nor I.”

“Mm. And y’wanna kiss me? Don’t offer ‘cause you think you owe me.”

“I want to kiss you, Hood.”

He tilts his head. “Y’wouldn’t be kissing a knight. More like kissing a toad.”

You frown. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m no Greg Peck. And I’m no hero either.”

“Do you give this speech to everyone who wants to kiss you?”

“You’re the first one who’s wanted to,” he says.

You inhale sharply. “Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

You wait. He waits. You both wait for the other to back out. You don’t. Neither does he.

“Can’t believe a princess wants to kiss me,” he mumbles.

And then he covers your eyes with his hand.

You blink, lashes sweeping over his glove. You hear a click, then a hiss of air. His helmet hits the ground with a dull thud. 

Hood gingerly holds your chin with his free hand. You keep your eyes closed even though he’s covering them, out of respect.

His mouth is warm and so, so gentle. You barely feel his lips at first, so you press a little harder. Hood doesn’t know what to do with his mouth, resting it on yours, so you take the lead, following what you’ve seen others do and what you’ve watched on television.

You reach up and hold his face. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You stroke his stubbled jaw, feel strong cheekbones and the ends of curls above his ears. 

“Your Highness? Your Highness!”

The hand leaves your face so quickly, your eyes stay closed for a second longer, slow to react. Then you open your eyes and see the empty street.

Your lips tingle with heat. It’s all noise around you, policemen and your guards flitting around you, asking questions, alarmed by your torn dress. 

You exhale, disappointment overtaking you.

Your father is in front of you, taking your wrists. “Can you hear me? Doctor, I need a—”

“I’m fine,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. “I’m alright, Father.”

He exhales and pulls you into a hug. It startles you. He pulls away before you can hug him back.

“I am so glad you’re alright,” he says. “The police say they saw a figure with you. Who was that? Was he your kidnapper?”

“No, not at all,” you say, staring out into the street beyond. Your lips are buzzing. “He was my hero.”

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

[yuellii]

🪼 HI USER YUELLII OMG I LUV JEALOUSY TROPES MAYBE THAT SAYS... SOMETHING ABOUT MY CHARACTER BUT I LOVEEEE JEALOUSY TROPES. AND WITH NEUVILETTE????? SOEMONE WHO PRIABBLY DOESNT EXPERIENCE JEALOUSY OFTEN IF AT ALL???? im sold. IM SOLD. PULLING OUT MY CREDIT CARD. IWOULD LITERALLY KILL TO READ UR THOUGHTS ON IT

The Four Stages of Jealousy : THE IUDEX.

STAGE I. — Identification.

There is a threat, that a person may feel losing someone to someone better than them. "I want what you have, and I hate that you have what I want."

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure of the sudden twist in his stomach as he stood at your doorstep, a bag of pastries tucked under one of his arms and a box of tea bags carried under his other.

Saturdays, three o’clock sharp in the afternoon held meaning: A time in which he’d arrive at your boutique, treats in hand and a pleasant look on his face. He’d try on one of your hats, maybe, for it was a prime time for tea, taken advantage of by the two of you, alone together every Saturday afternoon. It was an evening of the week where he was most happiest, though that might’ve been only an assumption. But the tranquility he usually felt standing at your doorstep was never one he could ignore.

Unfortunately, said tranquility seemed to be lacking this time around.

What he expected as another nice time alone with you ( especially since it was on your undocumented schedule—but who cared for documents, when he looked forward to this meeting every week? ) was instead being interrupted by a certain someone. Namely, a certain Champion Duelist. And maybe, Neuvillette would not be so bothered, had she not been sitting in his seat.

( Said seat was also unspoken, or ‘undocumented’ between the two of you, but still. He sat there every week—therefore by repeated pattern alone, that antique chair in front of the table should be his. )

( And sure, this might’ve been your boutique’s seating area, where everyone comes to sit during the day; But on Saturdays during tea time, he’d like to think that seat was practically reserved for him. )

“Neuvillette!” you practically gasped, facial expression turning into one of lightened excitement at seeing him. There was a blissful ignorance in your voice—‘ignorant’ in the way he was truly glad you didn’t know he was mentally annoyed at the mere fact his seat was taken. But nevertheless, the tightrope of his heart fluttered at the sound of your voice, which always sounded so enthusiastic every week he came back here. Perhaps you were just excited to see him as much as he was excited to see you—the thought alone brings a shiver to his spine.

He approaches forward with a polite smile of his own when you pat the empty spot adjacent to you on the loveseat. Ah, so the theft of his usual antique chair leaves him to sit beside you. Maybe the uninvited guest was welcomed, now that he thought about it.

“What brings Miss Clorinde with us today?” he finally asked, addressing the most obvious outlier first. When he set the bag of pastries down on the table, he watched as the Duelist eyed it with interest.

Clorinde hummed. “I was here for a small chat, then I was told that Monsieur Neuvillette would be ‘arriving soon’. And here you are.” At the recount of events, Neuvillette noticed how Clorinde threw a playful look at you. This playfulness did not stop, unfortunately for him, when she leaned forward to peek at the paper bag he brought in. “Then I stayed, because I thought: ‘What could the Chief Justice possibly say that’s interesting enough for weekly conversations?’”

You gasped at her teasing insult. “Clorinde!” you scolded with slight laughter. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a great companion for tea conversations! He’s very interesting, indeed, I promise you!”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette coughed through his words. He’s beginning to feel a bit awkward here…

“Oh?” Clorinde piped up again, just before Neuvillette could even get another word out. “There’s a lot of pastries in here, and also a new box of tea?”

“He brings them for us to share every week!” you exclaimed happily, grabbing the bag off the table and kindly distributing a treat to everyone. And that’s when suddenly, Neuvillette wishes he only bought one for the two of you, because he watches as you set down the pieces of Conch Madeleines in front of the Champion Duelist, despite Neuvillette knowing those were your favorites. Meanwhile, instead, you gave him and yourself the remaining other pastries. But surely, you wouldn’t just give up your favorites like that… Unless you favored Clorinde. Ah, but maybe he was overthinking it. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Clorinde sends him a casual smirk, likely to tease him. “Sweetest, certainly.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this at all.

When he eventually had to leave, Clorinde still stayed there to chat with you, and he felt empty walking out of your boutique. Emptier than usual, actually. It was certainly confusing, due to the fact nothing inherently bad happened, and he certainly didn’t want to say Clorinde’s presence bothered him, or anything over-the-top like that.

Hm.

Neuvillette didn’t get to talk to you as much as he wanted to today.

STAGE II. — Confrontative.

Where negative thoughts start to bloom as "envy." Jealousy begins to indicate love for the person, and the individual is afraid of losing that object of their love.

It’s the following Saturday when he sees you again, and he can’t quite understand why he feels an air of relief upon seeing that Clorinde is not there today.

“Neuvillette!” You greet him with the same smile and same excitement as always, and the rush of paradise courses through his body before he sits across from you in his usual seat: the antique chair right in front of you. He sets down his paper bag of fresh pastries; And upon doing so, he can’t help but smile when he noticed there are only two teacups on the table. One for you, and one for himself. “You seem a little more delighted today”—Was it that obvious?—“What’s gotten you into a good mood, Monsieur?”

He hummed. “Nothing, really.” He actually wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so joyous today, either, but as long as you were sitting there still smiling at him, then it would all be alright. “It’s just natural, since it’s always my pleasure to spend my Saturday afternoons with you.”

Bring your hand up to cover your mouth, you lightly gasped at his words. “Oh, Monsieur!” you giggled. “I hadn’t known you could be a charmer with your words!”

He liked the reaction you gave him. He thinks he liked the feeling of approval you gave him, but even more. Neuvillette learned rather gradually that you always tended to get a happy sort-of embarrassment from his ‘compliments’. Said ‘compliments’, however, referred to mere truthful facts he’s laid for you. But there’s a certain loveliness that comes with confiding in someone to tell all your truths to, and he’s more than elated that you’re the one he trusts to blabber endlessly to. He just hopes it can stay like this for a long time: Just the two of you, enjoying your Saturday afternoon tea.

“So,” Neuvillette began, watching as you took a bite of the Conch Madeleine he bought specifically for you. He had to catch himself from smiling at you—if his duty was to buy your favorite treat every week, then so be it. “How has your week been since I last saw you?”

Your hand once again flies up to cover your mouth as you quickly finish to chew and swallow the bite before answering him. “It’s been fun, actually! I saw a concert performed by a famous violinist—I believe I might’ve even spotted you in the front row…”

“Ah, yes, that would’ve been me. It was a spectacular performance; I’m happy to know you saw it,” he smiled. Hm, if he knew you were there that night, he certainly would’ve said hello. Your hand moves upwards once more to bring your teacup closer to your lips, and now he’s curious to ask: “And that ring of yours—that’s new, when did you get it?”

“Oh!” After setting the teacup down, you quickly leaned forwards, outstretching your right arm to show off the ring to him at a closer view. “I just got it yesterday, actually. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is.” It really dazzles to compliment your eyes. Neuvillette catches himself thinking of little things he’s never thought before. Like the way your hair frames your face perfectly, especially at this angle. Or the way your eyes held this delicate shine he admired so dearly, only now heightened by the sparkle of the ring’s reflection. There’s a new tide of poetry unspoken in the depths of his mind, and they might as well stay locked until he figures out just what this emotion is.

When you offer your hand for him to get a closer inspection of the ring is when his breath seems almost stolen from his lungs. Months and months of these weekly tea meetings, and yet he feels this is the closest proximity he’s ever been to you. Here, in his antique chair in the middle of your boutique shop, holding your hand from across the table.

But he feels a spark that he prays you sense as well, for the mere desire of wanting this moment to last forever is enough to tell him that he is completely in love with you.

He leans down gently to reach closer to your hand, kissing your knuckle so featherlight next to the ring. “And it’s even more beautiful on you,” he mutters to you when he pulls away.

Your heart might’ve skipped a beat when you retracted your hand, but he has no idea—he was too lovestruck just now to even think properly. But you take just a moment to recover whilst he’s still stuck in his little daze; Though, who could blame him when he just discovered the ethereal feeling of falling in love?

“Thank you,” you exhaled with a smile that seemed a little breathless. “Lady Clorinde helped pick it, actually.”

…What?

Well, that was a name he completely forgotten until just now. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure after the sudden whiplash of emotions. From finding out he’s in love, to the pang of unwarranted negativity for the Champion Duelist. As expected, he couldn’t tell what this uncomfortable feeling was, but he certainly did not like it.

“Clorinde was there, you say?” he tried to clarify.

You nodded. A little too happily for his liking. “We went out shopping yesterday.” Oh. “And she said this ring really matched ‘the colors of my personality’, whatever that means!” you wholeheartedly laughed. The way you spoke of her, with all this smiling and all these giggles, was making him crave for something more. Did… Did you perhaps want to see him more outside of these tea times, too? You seem perfectly fine shopping with Clorinde now, after all.

He’s never gotten personal time with you like that. It’s always been solely Saturday afternoons, nothing more. And yet, Clorinde immediately gets invited to your shopping runs, and apparently her opinion is also important enough to make you buy the ring? How unbelievable. Neuvillette bets if he was there instead, he’d buy you every piece of jewelry that you even took so much as slight interest in, because that was what you deserved. But no, here he was, not invited to these outings at all, and further stuck wallowing as your mere ‘tea companion’, and not something more.

The door to the boutique suddenly opens, and the both of you turn your heads to the customer.

But instead of a client, you were met with the face of a slightly-smiling Clorinde, ever so amused to see the both of you here again. Well, she shouldn’t be amused. Neuvillette was here on schedule.

“Ah, you’re here!” you say excitedly, briskly standing up to grab another set of tea; And now, Neuvillette can’t quite tell if you greet everyone at the door with this same excitement, and it’s not just restricted to him alone. He shouldn’t be that selfish, of course, so he thinks perhaps it should just not be directed at Clorinde, specifically.

“Pardon me,” Clorinde announced, making her way to the table after you set the tea display down. “I’ll be intruding on the both of you again.” Neuvillette wishes he had any right to refuse.

This time, now that he’s regained his rightful spot on the antique chair, Clorinde had no choice but to sit… right next to you on the loveseat—the same place Neuvillette sat last week when his spot was stolen. A moment comes forth where he now no longer wants his seat at all ( which he doesn’t understand why, because shouldn’t he be happy his unspoken designated seat is back? ), and prefers the loveseat.

Maybe it was the sight of Clorinde next to you, and the fact she was sitting so much closer than he’d like to imagine. And suddenly, that’s when he realizes he doesn’t like the idea of Clorinde being this close to you at all.

“Oh! You’re wearing the ring I got you!” Clorinde recognizes. She grabbed your right hand to immediately inspect it, and Neuvillette can’t help but feel like someone just shot him. Not only did she comfortably grab your hand like it was nothing ( meanwhile, he had to find both the confidence and the breath to even try to kiss your hand earlier ), but she also got it for you? The little detail you never mentioned: That Clorinde bought you the ring.

Now Neuvillette is internally questioning what exactly this ring means. Is it akin to a proposal? A vow? A promise ring for the future?

The longer he stays here the more insane he may be driven, he thinks.

“Sorry to cut my time here short, but I think I have to get going,” he spoke up. Both Clorinde and you looked over at him, and he figured this was a good idea—he doesn’t think he can handle another tea session where the two of you are happily talking as he sits there awkwardly quiet. “I’ll be off, now.”

“Already?” you frowned at him, and that expression almost makes him want to stay. But the sight of Clorinde still absentmindedly toying with your hand sends him into a spiral of emotions he needs to sort out. He’s already stood up to leave without realizing it.

“Unfortunately so,” he says. He might’ve sounded colder than he meant to. It was clear in your face you knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to say it out of privacy. But when he walked towards the door, hearing Clorinde continue your conversation on like normal, it was fruitless to even consider it.

He opened the door. It was raining.

It feels like he was losing your love before he could even have it.

STAGE III. — Redirecting.

Where pleasure is derived from hurting others, stemmed from unconscious feelings of envy. The envy can come in a so-called as a form of competitive implication.

The next time he saw you was around the market area in the morning, wandering the streets like a normal citizen on this wavering Wednesday.

Normally, he would have just smiled and waved at most, but this time, something compelled him to walk up and join you. “Is this where to find you on Wednesday mornings?” he asked curiously, catching your starling attention and watching as your lips curved to a smile when you recognized him.

“It is, Monsieur.” When you stepped ever-so closer to him, a mere basket around your arm being the only thing between you, he felt as if his feet had turned into bubbles, and there was a flutter of heaven around his shoulders. “My weekly groceries are scheduled for today, however I don’t recall ever seeing you on this side of the city, if that isn’t just my ignorance.”

He chuckled, “I’m usually at my office by this time, so you would be correct.” Then his arm slid against yours, taking the wooden basket out of your hands and walking a few steps forward down the market street you shopped at. “But I’m open to a change of pace, so might I join you on this lovely morning?”

The little smile of contentment you gave him when you answered “Of course” made his heart skip a beat. And when you walked forward to hook your arm around his free one, he swears to the sovereign he might simply dissolve right then and there. The closeness of your presence to him now makes his heart race in a way he feels it drumming in his chest, a feeling that is so human that it makes him almost taste the fruit of mortality. You, walking along with him as you hold onto his arm whilst he carries your grocery basket—you look like romantic partners, and he can’t help but feel sort of lightheaded at the mere thought of that.

“Ah, look!” you pointed, and Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided by the arm to a nearby vendor. “They’re selling slices of apricot pie.”

“You fancy these desserts as well?” he mused, already fishing his pockets for his wallet. “Perhaps we should purchase a slice or two and save them for our weekend tea session.”

You agreed, “I thought the same.” Then you noticed his shuffling and playfully waved off his hand, insisting he needn’t pay. “But I fear it might spoil by the time Saturday comes.”

“You want a bite of mine?” And that’s when Neuvillette wasn’t even surprised anymore to hear the voice of the Champion Duelist appearing out of nowhere. He has such horrible luck running into her, that he’s now just accepted it at this point ( or, for better words: he still has yet to accept the fact that maybe Clorinde was specifically seeking you ). She stood there, leaned against a pole with an easy-going expression and a fork in one of her hands, carrying an aluminum tin with the exact same apricot pie you were just eyeing.

You gasp at her appearance, “Sure!” Neuvillette doesn’t even have a moment to process the mere seconds it takes for you to slip away from his arm, leaving him to follow behind as you skip over to Clorinde. The uninvited guest takes it upon herself to feed you a bite with her fork—it was at this time that the Iudex began to feel like an outlier once again.

“We were actually about to buy a few slices ourselves,” Neuvillette piped in. He did it quickly, perhaps it was instinct so he wouldn’t be left out of the conversation again. “But an excellent point was brought up, that the dessert might spoil by the time we reach Saturday afternoon.”

“Why don’t you just buy one and eat it now?” Clorinde shrugged. Ah. Neuvillette internally scolded himself; He should’ve thought of that. And when you waved off her suggestion dismissively, claiming it was fine now that she let you try it, Neuvillette realized he completely missed an opportunity to have dessert with you on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday. That while he was still a man you only saw once at the end of each week, you’d be seeing Clorinde multiple times throughout it.

He wasn’t fond of the way Clorinde was still feeding you more bites of pie, either.

“Miss Clorinde,” he addressed. If only he had more of a grasp of human sociability, then he might’ve realized how firm his voice sounded in this situation that was… not so serious. “Shouldn’t you be alongside Furina at this time of day?”

“On a typical day, yes,” she answered simply. “And shouldn’t you be in your office?”

He almost glared. “No, actually, I’ve given myself the time to roam around today.”

“Oh wowww,” she teased, though Neuvillette might’ve heard it as something mocking. “Lady Furina would be pleased to hear that. Instead of being cooped up in your office or the Opera Epiclese all morning long, you’re out here at the market, even holding a basket for shopping.”

The Iudex cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have you know that this basket isn’t mine.” There was an air of competitiveness in his voice, one that almost had him biting his tongue in surprise of himself. Because it was simply just as he said: a basket. But the fact it belonged to you, and the fact that he was carrying it for you—suddenly he wanted to boast it and show it off to the world, especially to Clorinde’s face. “The two of us are shopping together this morning, if you’ll excuse us.” His next move might’ve been bold, but the feeling of possessiveness was so airtight and he had no choice but to hook his own arm around yours once more, getting ready to turn and leave.

“So cold,” Clorinde rolled her eyes. ‘Cold’ was a word often used to describe him, but no, not here. He did not want to appear that way in front of you. “Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?” she asked, this time directed at you.

Something in him snapped. There was an emotion that clouded his head far angrier than annoyance, and it sprouted from the way in which she made him look bad, like the stone-cold Chief Justice everyone thought him to be. Albeit with you, he was trying to be everything but that. Emotional, vulnerable, heartfelt, human—Clorinde was not going to take that away from him.

‘Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?’ The question kept playing in his mind, as if she was any better than him? She, who most people also saw as stoic, should not be seen by you in a better light than him. She, who did not know your favorite desserts like he did, who did not make time for you like he did, who did not fancy you as much as he did—

He felt you tug at his arm, snapping him from his thoughts.

Your eyes held the same, worried look you gave him on Saturday when he left so abruptly. So jealously.

Neuvillette cleared his throat once more. “It seems you are correct, Miss Clorinde.” There was solemness in his voice. Yet he was so quiet as he unlocked his arm from around yours, and handed your basket to Clorinde. “My attitude proves to be too unfavorable for the likes of this lovely morning, I thank you for bringing it to my attention.” These emotions were too much right now; he was starting to fear them. “My deepest apologies to you both, I’ll be heading back to the Palais Mermonia now.”

He bowed his head as diplomatically as he could manage, but the skies were already darkening.

“I bid you both a fine rest of your morning.”

“Wait, Neuvillette!”

Your call was drowned by the deafening drums of his hammering heartbeat, and the patters of light rainfall from the somber sky.

STAGE IV. — Medea.

At this stage, the grip of envy appears almost irreversible. There is a hatred towards others that dominates their thinking, and happiness or success is no longer foreseen.

Saturday afternoon.

He couldn’t see you again, even if it was time for your weekly meeting, not when he was feeling like this.

Not when the sky was pouring from the mere thought of you, and how he’s probably already lost. It was inevitable for a man like him, and he should’ve realized so earlier. Three o’clock, and you were already probably sipping away with Clorinde at your side, pastries on the table and a dazzling ring on your finger. She was much more human than him, after all, and such a shortcoming became his eventual downfall.

The Palais Mermonia was quiet, though that might’ve been due to the endless rain that’s been pouring since Wednesday morning.

While it was nice, he couldn’t help but feel the silence only amplified his feeling of loneliness in this moment. Especially at this time: a time of the week in which he looked most forward to.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” a Melusine knocked from right outside his door. “You have a visitor!”

And before he could even reply, that was when you ignored all formalities, all proper respect as you pushed your way through the door and into his office. The surge of panic he felt from your sudden presence was unrivaled to the way you made haste in getting seated in front of his office table, setting down your handful—said handful consisting of two teacups, and a bag of pastries.

His heart practically shattered. The familiar cups and bag of treats on the table, the way your hair and clothes were lightly damp from the rain—you made the effort, coming all the way here just to see him. Just so the both of you wouldn’t miss a single Saturday afternoon together.

“I believe you might’ve forgotten our schedule, good Monsieur.” A light scolding, yet partnered with the most comforting smile you’ve ever given him, and he starts to feel his hands tremble. “You seem surprised to see me,” you commented further, filling in the silence as he has yet to utter even a word. “Did you really think I’d just let you ditch me like that?”

It was hard to breathe, hard to find his voice when you were so patient with him. “Sorry.” It’s all he can mutter now, this blistering swell of emotions causing a waver in his voice. “I’m so, very sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckled at him. His body tensed when you reached forward to grab one of his hands. But you felt cold just like the chilling rain outdoors, and now he worries you might catch a fever because of him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what was wrong, but…” Your eyes drooped with a certain sorrow in their crevices, and Neuvillette found himself slightly squeezing your hands. “I couldn’t seem to find a good moment alone with you.”

He shook his head at you, whispering, “I don’t even know what’s wrong, myself…”

You frowned. This atmosphere was suffocating and just from one glance upwards at your face, Neuvillette could easily tell you were holding back something to say. Granted, it was his fault. He’s the one who’s here, sitting and sulking in his office with little to no explanation. He’s the one who’s kept you worried this past week from leaving so abruptly two different times now. If anything, he might understand how to be a human even less after this ordeal.

“Would you be so kind…” he starts, words like lumps in his throat, “to allow me to be honest? To let me ramble whatever nonsense I’m feeling for just a moment, so that maybe you can make some sense of it all?”

You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. “Of course.”

There’s a certain phrase caught dead in his tongue. And he’s never been afraid to speak his mind before, yet suddenly, your judgment of his feelings mattered much more than the truth of his words. But he was feeling so much, and if this was really the emotional baggage humans had to carry all the time, he could only wonder how most people have yet to burst from the hauntings of their own mind.

Or more accurately so—the hauntings of their own love.

These words were doomed to come spilling out. “You’ve bewildered me with mountains of emotions,” he rambles quicker than he thinks. “All from the sleight of your hand, I best believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He forces himself to ignore how your eyes widen in that moment, or how the grip from your hands suddenly loosens from the shock that rings through his confession. He doesn’t have a way with words, and he knows this. So in a hasty attempt to piece together a board of emotional exposure his mind cannot even comprehend, he does the only thing he knows how to: talk and talk, until he has no more truth to confess to you.

“But the feelings that came alongside my love,” he began to you, “are unexplainable.” As his voice ended in coarseness, there was such an hopeless look of utter confusion you had never seen on his face before, like he was silently pleading for you to help a poor soul like his own. “The beating of my heart when I see you… A stark contrast to the tightness in my stomach I feel… When Miss Clorinde joins us.” The ending of his sentence dropped to nearly a whisper, like he expected it to be sin. “But what I just don’t understand, is why,” the section of his brows furrow in distress, “because she’s my coworker, and I do not dislike her, but I feel as if I cannot stand her when she joins us…”

You listen quietly. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or fearful whilst awaiting your reaction.

He continued, “But when she sat with us for tea, and bought you that ring, and joined us at the market…” This confession; It was arguably harder than confessing his love to you. Because Clorinde was your friend—maybe even closer, if he was so unlucky—and he might’ve crossed a line here he didn’t even know existed. “I felt like I hated her,” he finished.

You were still silent, though it wasn’t like he could see your expression anyways. He refused to even look up to it, choosing instead to stare down at your joined hands.

But this silence was deafening. Please, just reject him already. He let out the most exhausted sigh he has ever before, the weight of these human emotions bearing down on him. “So I was just…”

“Just jealous,” you finished for him, and he noticed in your voice how you were almost laughing quietly to yourself. The emotion you just named—he didn’t know how envy even felt like, much less jealousy ( though, he supposes he knows now ). “Neuvillette, you should’ve just told me you felt uncomfortable with Clorinde there.”

“Hm?” He was confused. So confused, that his eyes finally darted up to meet your own. And there you stood, most comforting of smiles on your face as your thumb began to trace patterns on the back of his hand.

You reassured him, “Those are times we spend together, dedicated to the both of our comforts.” Which was true, but he was ready to argue that he felt selfish that way—and that you wouldn’t love nor deserve a selfish man. “I trust you to tell me when you feel things are unfavorable,” you continued, “and I promise you, Clorinde would understand if I told her.”

“But,” he piped up, so much doubt in his eyes as if struggling to believe your words, “is she not important to you?” And now, he could not comprehend the bashfulness that raised blood to his cheeks, or the complete disbelief that you’d wave off the Champion Duelist just because of his silly discomfort. Human relationships; He feared he may never understand them.

“Of course she’s important to me—she’s my friend!” you lightly laughed. “But you’re important to me, as well. Please understand that.” His heart might’ve stopped for just a moment. “And when we have our scheduled times alone together, the last thing I want to have is you feeling uneasy when we’re supposed to be relaxing.” Your words, the kindness you shed—it was all so confusing yet so welcoming at the same time, that he feels it’s only a matter of seconds until he drowns from the sound of your voice. To feel such comfort in a person was bizarre to him, but it’s a feeling that makes him crave your presence all the same.

His eyes fell to another slight frown, voice quieter as if losing the will to argue. “But… I should not have the right to impede on a relationship significant to you…”

Now it was your turn to look baffled. The way he worded it. Oh, surely he didn’t— “Monsieur, do you think Clorinde and I are a couple?”

“Well, I certainly thought you two were getting to that state in your relationship,” Neuvillette answered truthfully, voice flowing without hesitation as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. The man who just confessed his love for you only moments ago was fully convinced you felt romance for another woman. “Hence why I was…” He turned his head to the side, shyly clearing his throat. “Envious…”

You practically burst out into giggles. In fact, one of your hands even let go of his grip just so you could cover your mouth to laugh. “Oh… Oh, Neuvillette, surely you jest!” you attempted to name whilst controlling your laughter. The Iudex was shell-shocked into pure silence, wondering what he could’ve possibly said to make you react this way, because as far as he knew, he was not making a joke. “Clorinde is only a friend to me,” you clarified. “Nothing more.”

He remains silent, but there’s a sweeping wave of new emotions that suddenly flood his shoulders.

“And if she sees me as anything more, then, well,” you continued, glancing up outside and then back down to meet his awaiting eyes. “Unfortunately for her, the love in my heart has already been captured by another.”

“By whom?” The lack of hesitation from his immediate question has more giggles escaping your lips. He looks at you, and your face tells him it’s an obvious question with an obvious answer, and yet he still cannot comprehend this even when you squeeze both his hands in yours once more.

“Who do you think, Monsieur?” And yet even after his face flushes red, he still has a focused look of anticipation on his face—it’s as if he absolutely will not believe it until you spell it directly to his face. “Neuvillette,” you sighed, but there was an air of gentleness in the way you say his name that relaxed his soul. “It’s always been you.”

The rain continued on.

But now the sun shined between each droplet, because if he could cry from happiness right now, he was sure you’d already be busy wiping his tears away. And this sunny rain continued on and on, even as he poured you tea, even when he bit into the pastries you bought, and even when he looked at you fondly across his desk, not a single doubt of your love.

And as for Clorinde, well, he might need a few more days to recover before he can forgive her for all the sporadic heart attacks she’s almost given him.

[twilightkitkat]

I feel like Logan is oftentimes written as a character who wants a large amount of distance and space in a relationship but I think that wouldn't really be the case. Obviously he can't be around anyone every waking hour of the day and he's his own person, but I'm convinced he'd be clingy once he got into a relationship. He knows to function on his own, he knows he can go through the motions but he just... doesn't want to.

One of the main arguments I see for him wanting a lot of space is that he has an eternity to live so he doesn't feel constrained on time when it comes to Wade, who's also immortal like him. And yes, that's true, but I raise you this: he's already had 200 years without him. He's had time to do all the things he wanted to (and didn't want to) do alone—he's traveled to different countries, explored his own origins and backstory, learned about different people and places. And sometimes he enjoyed it, even if most of the time he was desperate and angry and isolated from the world.

He already spent enough time being alone that he knows how it feels. He got it out of his system. He was forced to be alone for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to have a companion, let alone someone like Wade. Someone he genuinely connected to for the first time, who understood him and wanted him.

Logan knows what it's like to be alone. He lived through it almost every day of his hellish life in one way or another. He's tired of it, now. He had 200 fucking years to stew in his own company, 3 times longer than most humans even lived.

But this? The feeling of curling next to someone and feeling their warmth? Burrowing so close you can hear their heartbeat? Waking up next to Wade and seeing his bleary-eyed smile? Fighting next to him, trusting someone to watch his back? Waking up from a nightmare and being held and comforted by someone who understands him?

It's so much better than anything he could've imagined. Why would he ever go back to how things were before, when he knows what it feels like to be next to Wade and be loved just for existing? (How could he go back to being alone after finally tasting happiness?)

He'd want to savor it. To lean into the relationship hard and memorize all of Wade's little habits and routine and quirks. He'd be clingy, letting himself demand affection and attention because he knows he can get it. And he's been starved of it for so long.

He knows he could leave, if he wanted to. That he could go out on his own for a while, back out into the cold. But why would he voluntarily do that when he has a perfectly nice fireplace to keep himself warm? If he really wanted to go out to marvel at the snow, now he could bring someone with him and share that joy together. What could be better?

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 17)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3058

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

Notes: heyyyy what do you know, i found it in me to get this part out. im proud.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You never been one to throw caution to the wind, but with what sits before you, the urge is strong.

Animals were one of the first things to go when disease swept across the world, which is why it’s so difficult not to pick up the juicy chicken breast that’s steaming on the plate in front of you, and completely ravage it.

Your mouth waters at the sight. There are greens, too. A blend of spinach and vegetables cooked to perfection in animal fat. It’s the first real meal you’ve seen in…fuck you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve seen real meat like this, nor food that wasn’t expired and from a can.

The only thing keeping your restraint in place is your companions' determination. The sprinkle of common sense that hasn’t fizzled into a ravenous beast at the scent of your meal is easy to overlook, but Azriel’s menacing presence beside you isn’t. His back is ramrod straight in his own seat, and the food doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. He’s undeterred by their taunts. Instead, his woody eyes drink in your surroundings for the umpteenth time, as if there might be a hint as to what’s really going on here. 

On your other side, you’re flanked by Cassian, who does look like he’s struggling to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the juicy thigh on his plate, however little it might be. It’s more than he’s had to eat in days, months, and he wants it so fucking badly.

In fact, no one’s touching their food, which is a red flag of itself, but your head is swimming at the smells, your stomach a mess of knots that loosen at the idea of food, and tighten at the thought of where your best friend could be.

You’re also a little afraid, if you’re being honest, of getting sick should you eat something this…real after having gone so long without.

Nesta watches you from across the table with a piercing stare. There’s a malice you’ve become accustomed to being fed in the little time you’ve known her. You understand that she’s worried for her sister, out there with little protection, but you’re worried too. You feel as if Feyre is your sister as well. You’ve been winning your own little war against the undead for too long to remember.

At her side is who you can only decern to be her lover, Eris. You ponder their relationship, what you saw in the woods. Perhaps they’re nothing more than companions, but with the way the auburn-haired man keeps stealing glances at her, worry etched in his brow, you know there must be more.

The chair beside Eris is filled with a near clone of him. They have twin eyes and looks of caution on their fox-shaped faces. The unnamed man wears his hair long down his back, a single braid hangs down the side of his face. It’s not a nice one, practiced, but messy, like whoever put it there was distracted more often than not during styling. The only differentiator is the color of their skin, because even the shape of their eyes and their stature is eerily similar. It’s clear that they are nothing like their scumbag of a father, and the thought of Beron alone makes you shiver in your seat.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and you can’t help the stab of guilt you feel at the sight of it. You don’t know if they’ve lost someone important to their little unit they have going on here, or if there’s a reason for the unoccupied seat.

Cassian’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the terse silence. 

“Everything is safe to eat, I can assure you,” Eris mentions after clearing his throat. Nesta shoots him a look that could make even a zombie cower, but he must be used to it because he takes the betraying look with grace, gently settling a palm onto her lap.

Nesta doesn’t shove it away like you expect her to. Instead, her lips go razor thin. The pair stare at each other so intensely that you feel like you’re intruding on something monumental.

Eventually, Nesta breaks. With a sharp inhalation, she turns her gaze to you. She doesn’t look happy, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to reach across the table and maul you for losing her sister.

“Eat,” she all but demands. She cringes, grits her teeth, and adds like the words are truly poison in her mouth, “Please.”

“You’ll excuse us if we don’t trust you,” Azriel replies curtly. Your eyes soften as they land on him, even if his gaze is trained on your hosts. Weeks ago, he’d been wary of you, and now he’s here protecting you from the outsiders that are holding you captive.

You’ve never been so thankful for him, and you remind yourself to thank him for it later.

“Don’t eat, then.” Nesta shrugs as if his words don’t bother her in the slightest. Your whereabouts of Feyre seem to have caught her off guard because right now she is the perfect poise of excellence. Her nature could give any queen a run for their crown.

She’s the first one to dig into her meal. She uses the cutlery as if they’re weapons, tearing into the meat with a force that has you praying to any higher being that Feyre and Rhys are on their way to you, because you do not want to be on the other end of Nesta’s knife.

Your eyes flicker back down to your plate, to the shiny silverware placed on either side of your plate. Hell, you’re not even sure you remember how to use them anymore, with how long you’ve had to make do on the road.

“Please, eat,” Eris counters with a stern look that doesn’t affect Nesta in the slightest. Eris motions to his brother and they both pick up their forks, as if trying to show you everything is okay.

“I don’t trust the animals, either,” Azriel responds.

“How about the vegetables, then?” Eris offers, and you think you catch a glint of pleading in his amber eyes. You think he’s trying to keep things civil and calm for Nesta’s sake. You’re sure she’s worried to pieces about her littlest sister out there when the sun is so close to hiding away for another night of hell. “The animals are perfectly healthy, though I assure you the food will not go to waste if you don’t eat it.”

“How are they safe?” Cassian questions, grimacing down at the meat. You know that he out of everyone in your little group needs it the most. You’ve seen his protruding ribs only yesterday, and with him being the biggest in your group, he needs the nutrients more than anyone.

A sudden urge of protectiveness washes over you. You want him safe and healthy, want both him and Azriel safe and happy, and you wish more than anything that you could give it to them.

Only time will tell.

Eris gives a very diplomatic response. “My family has owned this land for generations,” he starts, and you don’t like to think of how he is Beron’s son. It makes all of the desperation to eat, subside. “We have been raising and breeding our own meat and dairy for just as long. They have never showed signs of disease, but perhaps it’s because they live a life unknowing of what goes on in this world.” You’re not following, but Eris continues before your confusion causes you to blurt out questions.

“My brother—Lucien,” he nods toward his brother beside him. “Takes care of them. When our father first heard the mumblings of a pandemic so devastating, the world as we knew it would never be the same, he built a bunker of sorts, where we continue to monitor and raise our animals to this day.”

“That was about the only smart thing he ever did,” Lucien mumbles, looking green at the mention of his father.

You get the feeling.

Azriel says, “Yeah, we’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting the bastard.”

Lucien’s utensils fall to the table with a clang that startles you in your seat. He looks sick to his stomach, his ying-yang eyes drawn down to his plate in shame. His shoulders are stiff and he’s gone so still you think he might be comatose, turning into a zombie right in front of your very eyes.

“You’ve met him?” Lucien asks, and he sounds like a little boy, reliving a trauma so ghastly that it’s altered his brain chemistry.

“Met him, killed him,” Azriel shrugs as if it was no big feat. Your stomach roils at the memory and you must look paler than normal because Cassian’s placing a. warm hand over yours in comfort. Azriel’s brashness isn’t new to you, but the reminder is too fresh. You try to focus on your hand in Cassian’s, offering him a weak smile.

The tension in the air seems to disperse with Azriel’s words. You’re pretty sure you see Lucien’s shoulders physically drop in relief, like he feels the same way you do about his father. Eris sits in his seat, stunned, but he doesn’t look upset about the news, he looks more disappointed, like he missed out on being the one to kill the crazy cannibal.

“Well, I think this calls for the good wine,” Nesta says, and you swear you see the corners of her mouth threaten to tug into a satisfied smirk.

She glances at you from across the table, and you pick up your fork.

You hope that this is the first of many things that you will agree with her on.

There is little conversation while you eat. Azriel’s brows are drawn in tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. He keeps glancing over at you with a scolding heat in his eyes, but there’s a sliver of worry that makes you ache, like he thinks you might keel over from the chicken.

If you do, you’re not even sure you’ll be mad. It’s good fucking chicken.

You try to savor it, to eat slowly so that your body doesn’t reject the first real meal you’ve had in forever, but you can hardly control yourself. You feel like a rabid animal, hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off. You wonder if this is what the zombies outside feel like, an insatiable hunger, or if they’re so mindless they don’t feel anything at all.

You reckon you have only minutes before the food makes its reappearance, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you slide your silverware onto your empty plate, trying to deter yourself from leaning forward and licking it clean.

Cassian has no such reservations.

“How long has it been since you’ve tried to contact my sister?” Nesta asks when the three of you have finished. Even Azriel couldn’t help but clear his plate, though he did take the longest of the three of you, more than mindful of your captors.

It makes your heart swell that he has kept an eye out for you and Cassian.

Azriel and Cassian share a look over your head, debating how much to indulge. But this is Feyre’s sister, and they want to find her and Rhys just as much, so they relent.

“We tried getting through to them this afternoon, before we ran into you,” Cassian explains. “They were too far out of range.”

“Call them again,” she demands, and Eris opens his mouth to protest but Nesta is clearly done with niceties. “No,” she snaps at the man beside her. “We have given them a place to stay and a warm meal. It’s time for them to do something in return.”

You don’t mention how you didn’t have a choice but to be here, and that they wouldn’t have had to give up their food if you were still wandering out in the woods, but your stomach is too full to argue that point.

Cassian tugs the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switches it on. The static is loud, and you all wait in anticipation until the signal calms a bit before he clicks the button on the side and makes the call. “Rhys? Feyre? Are you out there?”

It’s like waiting for a cure as the six of you listen to the channel. Nothing comes through, and Cassian calls again, to no avail.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says, a determined look in his eye. You’re pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Nesta in her seat, because she looks like she will reach across the table and stab you with her knife.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes you flinch. Cassian’s arm reaches out to block you and Azriel’s already halfway out of his seat, ready to tear you away from the threat that stumbles into the doorway.

The threat comes in the form of what must be Feyre’s other sister, Elain. She looks ghastly, skin as white as sheet, and as well-fed as Eris’ claims them to be, she’s all skin and bones. Her brown eyes are dull and sunken, purple-rimmed as if she hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in years. Her blonde-brown hair sits limp on her head, knotted at the back, as if she’s been drained of all of the health in her life.

She looks like a zombie.

Nesta jumps from her chair at the same time Lucien does, the both of them rushing for Elain. Lucien gets to her first, catching her just as her knees give out and scooping her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest as if the effort to keep it upright is a burden too much, but her dazed gaze sharpens when it lands on you.

You’re frozen in your seat. You have no words for what you’re seeing, the sickly girl who looks closer to death than a zombie. Your heart pounds a thousand miles a minute in your chest, and your fingers are white-knuckled with confusion and fear where they’re wrapped around Cassian’s forearm.

Elain’s brown eyes widen in a way that looks unnatural for her once beautiful face. Her cracked lips form husky words that are so ominous it has the hair on your body standing on end.

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black. One has an injured wing.”

Lucien hushes her softly, murmuring to her as he removes her from the room. “Shh, Elain. Let’s get you back to bed, petal. You shouldn’t be expending so much energy until you’re feeling better.”

Guilt stabs you a thousand times over as he takes her away. It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots with what you’ve seen. How sickly she looks, the faraway look and ramblings that don’t make sense.

“When did it happen?” You blurt, eyes darting from a stoney-faced Nesta to a grimacing Eris to the door Lucien and Elain disappeared through. You don’t like the feeling that overcomes you, the one that wants you to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

“It’s late,” Nesta states, looking between the three of you like she’s deciding how she’s going to kill each of you. You suppose she might, if she feels any sort of threat to her sister. For now, she needs you alive, if only to help find her other sister. She won’t dump any of you out yet, unless you can’t prove your worth.

Not unless Feyre is dead.

Azriel tucks you carefully behind him, more than aware of the threat before you. You can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. There’s a tightness to his shoulders that you don’t like, an edge to the strain of his body that screams danger.

His mouth opens to speak, but he’s cut off by the sudden voice that comes over the walkie-talkie.

“Cassian? Azriel? Do you copy?” Rhys’ panicked voice sounds through the machine. More than one emotion threatens to consume you, relief and worry. The full meal in your belly swarms like crashing waves, and you might just throw up after all.

Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta all lunge for the radio. Eris gets his hand around Nesta’s bicep and pulls her away, much to her reluctance. She claws against him but he’s only keeping her away from the three of you, still very much a threat.

Not that you’d be of any assistance should either party try to attack. You’ve collapsed in the closest chair.

“Rhys?” Cassian calls back, just as frantic. His terrified hazel eyes are locked with Azriel’s, and it’s all the black-haired boy can do to console Cassian with a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Where the fuck are you?”

It wouldn’t mean much to Nesta, who’s given up her struggling to listen into what’s happening, but to Cassian, you know the touch means everything.

Anticipation skyrockets throughout the room, bringing the temperature up to boiling as you await his response. Each second feels like an eternity, and you’re sure the vein throbbing on Nesta’s forehead is about to explode when Rhysand finally responds.

It sounds like he’s running. You pray that’s not a groan of the undead you hear in the background. “Fuck,” he curses in such a hopeless way that makes your heart drop to the floor. Whatever he’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I need you to come find us. I don’t know where the fuck we are, but we need help.”

Azriel rips the walkie-talkie from Cassian’s hand, ready to take the lead. He pockets one of the knives at the table and you can’t even muster the energy to joke about how a butterknife won’t be the best weapon against a horde of zombies because you’re more than ready to follow him into the fray, sans weapons, if all to save your friends.

“Where are you, Rhys? I need landmarks.”

 “Az,” Rhys breathes, but he doesn’t sound relieved. In fact, he sounds spent, and there’s no sign of Feyre on the other line. “We need help. Badly. Feyre’s been bitten.”

And hey, your dinner does make its reappearance after all.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02  @azrielsbabyg  @arcadianmoonlight  @pradaxstyles  @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion  @fuckthatfeeling  @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001  @fallmyriad  @sstrohma  @tcris2020 @jeannineee  @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace (i hope you see this idk if this tag worked 😭)

IDK if any of these tags are going to work but someone plz lmk 💙

[r0-boat]

People have been asking for it!

Since I already written dark!Whb headcannon for the kings that were out before it's time to come back with a part 2 for the rest of the seven deadly sins!

Read part 1 here

Dark!whb headcannons

Asmodeus&Belphegor update

Cw: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, whb!Asmodeus(I have a breeding kink but Asmo is fucking scares me), kidnapping, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, dark content.

Belphegor

He appreciates when you do things for him. But deep inside, He knows it's not quite enough. If only he could have you permanently taking care of his every whim like Beleth, but unfortunately, you'll also be used for more than just work. Beleth already has a lot on his plate running an entire kingdom... and poor Belphegor, it's all alone by himself. He needs a little companion.

Being his little maid, wouldn't that be nice? All you have to do is take care of him, and you don't have to worry about your pretty little head. You'll keep his room clean, You will dress him, bathe him, and keep him company. Maybe He can finally start playing games and watching anime now that he has someone beside him.

He has thought about it a lot... He even has touched himself to the idea of you wearing anything he desires. The only reason why he hasn't done it is because he can't... If He took you all of hell, it would wage civil war, and that just seems more of a waste of time.

Of course, you will be trained first. You have lots of potential to know exactly what he wants, but he doesn't think you're loyal enough to him to care about his desires. Nothing that nefleheim can't fix. By the time his subordinates and royals are done with you he'll be on your knees ready to serve his cock at any time.

Though he doesn't want you thoroughly broken, he wants his subordinates to do most of the work so he can be the one to shape you by the end. Of course, doing all this work for him, he'll reward you sweetly with his effort. Pitting you underneath him is the least he can do for all your hard work. He appreciates hard work.

Asmodeus

He wears all his desires on his sleeve, so it's hard to believe that he would have more depraved thoughts. And he would think You would be a fool to think otherwise. I think you know where this is going...

He hasn't had a wife in so long. And it just simply doesn't feel fair for a male such as himself to have no wife by his side. As much as he loves his late wife, He can't help but feel a little bitter for the stunt she pulled.

He has shown you he could be a good lover, yes? Then why don't you give yourself to him entirely? Then, the two of you will be married in matrimony. Where you will you by his side with everything he does... Everything.

You look good like this... Drunk on his natural scent, begging for more of his seed; even though you can't take anymore, He can tell by how swollen your belly is. You're about what? 4 months in? Once you finally have his spawn Your chest was well with a sweet nectar he had been craving for a long time.

And when you're done, he shall have you again and again, and the two of you will not stop until a new generation of Unholyc rises. This time, not even death will part the both of you. Granting you the gift and curse of immortality, you'll be his for eternity to come. The entire Red prison is your harem, as the world is his.

[technically-a-kiwi]

The cosmic cast in color ! ✨

Finaly ! They're all here !

First we have

Peppino Spaghetti THE CHEF

From his pizza oven, he cooks and gives shape to all the multiverse, a very unstable being, destoying things aroud him on a MASSIVE scale when angered. Even if his work is worthy of a god, he claims he's nothing more then a little pizza chef making simple pizzas.

The Noise THE HOST

(yes, I didn't do another art for cosmic Noise c'cause he doesn't need one FOR HE WAS PERFECT FROM DAY ONE ! and because I'm... tired 😵)

If you see a mysterious program playing on your TV, one that you've never seen before, it might be because of this gremlin ! TV host and little chaos bringer, this being of pure mischef will make you wish you were never born as soon as you interact with him. Better pray he get's disinterested from you 'cause once your his target, he will NEVER give you a break, unless he decides to cut his program for a smoke...

Noisette THE MESSENGER

What appears to be a shooting star up high in the sky has a very little chance to actually be this being, from her magic umbrella she travels around the multiverse to briefly open a little café and sell her cosmic pastries. The reason she’s referred as the messenger is because she’s the one who serves as a messenger when cosmic entities don’t want to talk to each other.

The constellations CHILDREN OF THE STARS

Libra, Orion, Cassiopea, Cancer and Gemini, those are the five constellations names, they sometimes visit universes but are not allowed to go alone. They enjoy learning about new places and conceps, even scary ones .

Pepperman THE ARTIST

In a far away dimension, this entity paints and sculps the many art pieces you can find in his galery. He's the master of his atelier, sometimes allowing his students to work on tiny parts of his work. After completing a collection, he sets off to some universes and opens his museum. Are you curious enough to witness those otherworldly works of art ?

The Vigilante VIGIL OF REALITY

When the laws of physics are broken, he'll be there and make those outlaws pay the price... he also is a little farmer who lives in the middle of nowhere, growing cropes and other veggies, he's quite a nice guy.

The Ticket stand ...

in the darkest of corners of an abandoned street, your might meet with this entity. You can buy a ticket, what happens after that solely depends on you.

Pizzahead THE WANDERER ( feat. Pizzaface [design made by @chaotichyperfixations])

A very jolly and silly entity, wandering across the multiverse sharing his performences to whoever wants to see, alongside him is a conscious universe, who wants to get to the rank of cosmic entity, he's not the friendliest of companions but seeing his attemps fall flate is very funny.

Mr Stick THE BANKER

A very nasty entity, he sees high value in money, specificaly money that isn't his. He goes to people in instable economical state, writting their names in his book and claims he has the ability as a cosmic entity to fix their problems, only this is a trick to slowly get every dollar out of their pocket. He sees himself as the boss of every cosmic entity, only nobody ever gave him that title or the respect that comes with it.

Here's how they look like withous the light:

I forgot the sparkles for almost all of them... Maybe I should have given a little more time into this...

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part four.

“Saw McLaren posted pics of the new car,” Jack says in lieu of a greeting when he sees you after the weekend. He picks up his pace and crosses the distance to meet you where you’re fumbling with the keys to your “office”, and then he takes a few of the many equipment bags you’re attempting to juggle, saying as he does so, “You take any of those or no?”

You laugh, “Ah, no. They actually hire on a whole studio crew that does that. They’ve got lights, green screens, special camera lenses, the whole lot. The post-production on those photos is mad though.” You get the door unlocked and usher him inside, “I got to sit in on it once, and it’s crazy how much work goes into getting just a couple week’s worth of promotional content.”

He sets your bags down where you direct him to and then offers you a snarky grin, “Still probably would’ve looked cooler if you took ‘em, to be fair.”

It makes you laugh again. Jack seems to be good at that, and it feels nice to get along so well with someone you work with. You’ve found a surprising friend in him. At the end of your conversation on Friday, you’d exchanged numbers and he’d made you promise to reach out if you needed him for anything. You hadn’t, but he’d still sent you an unflatteringly angled picture of Kyle Walker from after their match against Newcastle, followed quickly with━ “use this in the next media drop thx,” and the chatter had gone from there.

You set down your own bags. “Well, thank you. Pretty sure it’s not as fun as this job, though.”

And you mean it. You’ve had opportunities to switch over to studio photography, and though you respect the people who do it and the unique challenges it poses in its own right, there’s nothing like being upfront and personal with all the action, getting to see the athletes in their element and know them on a level that goes beyond an hour or two shoot. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Wait,” you pause, hands stopping just above where you’re ready to start sorting through your equipment, “since when did you keep up with Formula One?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t. But you work for that team, yeah? So I figured I might as well see what they’re all about.”

“Well, if you need something to do during the summer, let me know and I’ll see what I can do,” you tell him, resuming your sorting. “They give me extra tickets for each race but they usually end up going to waste.”

You don’t bring up the falling out you had with your parents at eighteen when you told them you were going to pursue photography or the fact that you haven’t really talked to them in years because of it. You also don’t mention that due to the strenuous, near-constant traveling and the strict schedule of your job, your friendships are limited to the athletes you work with and the other McLaren staff that travel with you━ all of whom have passes of their own, for obvious reasons.

Jack, thankfully, doesn’t ask about it either. Whether he’s made his own assumptions or respects that it’s probably a sore subject, he leaves it alone and the two of you carry on in companionable silence.

You get your equipment unzipped from the bags and organized across the room per your system, guiding your temporary helper with pointed fingers to where it all should go.

The silence is only broken again when he asks you a question. “You got a favorite driver?”

It’s so out of the blue that you nearly jump, startled by the suddenness of it against the quietness of the room. But then you laugh and shake your head. “Officially no, but just between the two of us, me and Lando started at the same time so he’s got a special place in my heart. He’s also my best friend.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?” Despite the persona he puts on, you think he secretly loves gossip. “How’d he take the news about you being with Ward, then? ‘Cause I’d have some choice things to say to any friend of mine if they got with a prick like that.”

You purse your lips, divert your gaze to avoid Jack’s eyes, and shrug, fiddling with the neck strap of your camera as you do so. “I don’t know.”

“You ‘don’t know?’”

You shrug again and feign checking over the settings as if your camera’s aperture is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “He hasn’t been picking up my calls,” you start, “or answering my texts since the paps released the pics, so.”

When you glance back up, Jack’s making a face. “So, your best friend finds out you’re dating a total bellend, and instead of asking you about it or at the very least taking the piss, he ignores you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel a bit stupid for being more sad than you are angry.

All you can do is shrug.

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yourusername ladies and gentlemen, jack grealish (i was threatened into posting these, send help pls)

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You decide that if Lando gets to be petty, then so do you.

The thing is, you’d told Lando you wouldn’t replace him with any of the guys from Manchester City, and you’d meant it━ you still mean it, despite your frustrations and annoyances with him telling you otherwise.

But if he’s going to play games, then so are you.

Technically you hadn’t started the relationship with Garrett willingly, but Lando doesn’t know that, and even if you had that doesn’t give him the right to go about ignoring you. You’ve been supportive when he’s gotten girlfriends━ you even ate greasy pizza, drank cheap wine, and cried watching The Notebook together when he ended his long-term relationship back in 2022. He could at least pretend to be supportive, or better yet he could pick up the fucking phone. 

As pathetic as it sounds, you’d let him yell at and berate you if it just meant he’d answer your calls. Because having Jack around to gossip with and shoot the shit is nice, and he really does help you not feel so alone at Etihad Campus, but Lando’s your best friend and he has been for years now. There’s nobody that understands you as well as he does, even if he is a twat half the time, and what you need now most of all is that particular Lando brand of annoying to cheer you up.

The door opens, drawing your attention from where you’re scrolling through McLaren’s newest posts. Garrett stands in the opening.

The memory of that night still lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, bitter and unpleasant. You’ve managed to avoid him for the most part in the time since then, ignoring the looks he shoots your way out on the field or in the weight room, and lucky enough that his meetings with the physio team keep him preoccupied so that he can’t seek you out in between training sessions. You’d known it was inevitable that you’d have to face him, but that doesn’t stop the dread from pooling in your stomach when you see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he surveys the makeshift office you’ve done up for yourself.

“They couldn’t find you an actual office?” He comments, looking disdainfully towards your desk and the large Manchester City logo emblazoned across the front.

You shrug, wishing he’d just get to the point. “I’m only here for a few months. Doesn’t matter much to me. What do you want?”

He takes a step farther into the room and closes the door behind him, taking his sweet time to cross the distance toward the seats. When he’s finally lowered down into one, he looks up to you with a nonchalance that fills you immediately with anger.

“I’m making some amendments to our agreement,” he announces.

“Like hell you are.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you seriously expect people to believe we’re a couple if we never actually do anything to give off the impression of being a couple?”

You scowl. Obviously, you hadn’t expected to just skate by on the coattails of pictures from a single night. You’d known from the very beginning that you would eventually need to make another public appearance together at the very least if you wanted to keep the paparazzi fed and encourage the idea to the media that you’re in a committed relationship with one another. You’d just been hoping you would’ve had more time until then.

“I’m not an idiot, Garrett,” you grumble, crossing your arms in your seat. You had been looking through pictures from the day’s morning practice, but now you think having to look at any more of Kevin De Bruyne’s grinning face will make you lose your mind when you feel the furthest thing from happy.

“Obviously,” Garrett scoffs. “But you’re the one who said I get one kiss and nothing more. Newsflash, love━” your scowl deepens, “━couples do more than just kiss one time.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

He pulls his phone from the pocket of his joggers and swipes across the screen for a few moments of anticipatory silence. “Well,” he finally says, “it’s the sixteenth now. We haven’t got a match until the twenty-sixth. Go on a date with me this weekend.”

You can’t say no. There’s no plausible excuse for you to get out of it, and deep down you know the only way you can get rid of Garrett is to just do what he says and hope the media make their conclusions about his change quick enough that you can ditch him before the summer break.

At least during the Formula One season, you can use traveling as a reason to get out of dates. When the Champion’s League starts back up he’ll be traveling around Europe a bit more than he is now, and there’s always a chance you could be in the same country at the same time, but the likelihood of your schedules aligning is slim and that means you’ll be safe from any ventures out into public.

But for the time being, you’re stuck.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He claps his hands, a deceptively cheerful grin on his face. If you didn’t already think of him as the worst prick you’ve ever met, you might’ve found it charming. It’s the same smile he used to flash at you in your first week when he was trying to cozy up and ease his way into your good graces. The sight of it makes you sick to your stomach, now.

“Great,” he rises from his seat. “We’ll do some shopping, get some lunch━ make a full day out of it.”

At this point, you don’t care what he has planned. You just want him to leave you alone so you can try to at least pretend like you’re gonna finish the rest of the work you need to get around to.

Garrett’s made his way to the door and has his hand reaching for the handle when he turns back around and gives you a smirk. “Might wanna work on your happy face, though, love,” he comments, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “‘Cause if you look like that in front of the paps they definitely aren’t gonna be very convinced that you love me.”

Just to spite him, you let your scowl deepen. “I don’t need your advice. I know how to handle myself, Garrett.” You say his name like a curse━ like the very feeling of it on your tongue causes you pain.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment. His face turns thoughtful, but there’s still the smugness painted across his features that makes you so unfathomably annoyed. “You must be pretty familiar with the paps if you’re always around those drivers, yeah?” He knows the answer to his question already, so you’re not sure why he’s even asking.

He stays silent, though, like he’s genuinely expecting an answer, so you shrug your shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats back to you.

His laughter is all you hear echoing in your ears even once he’s long gone.

Until your phone starts to ring and Lando's name flashes across the screen.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght

━━ a/n: cliffhanger hehe~ also, i promise we're getting to ACTUAL formula one stuff soon

[daydreamsinrosie]

Competition: Draco Malfoy x HP’s sister! Reader headcanon, Part 1.

Hi everyone, I hope you enjoy this off the wall impulsive thought that I had to write out! Let me know if you would like a part 2 😊.

Themes: Harry is a distant brother, Draco bullying the reader a little, feeling isolated/unwanted, tension!!! (Not sexual).

Being the twin sister of the boy who lived doesn’t live up to the supposed title. In fact it means nothing when you were raised separately and behave simply as strangers towards each other.

Never mind being placed in a different house, finding yourself growing up in the walls of Ravenclaw tower with books and a couple of companions as friends.

However, one way you stand out is your intelligence. Smart is an understatement when you’re regularly competing for the top grades and have your praises sang by Professor McGonnagall, drawing the ire of Hermione and half of Gryffindor House.

“Exceptional. Some of you would be wise to follow Miss Y/N’s lead”. The statement wasn’t enough to hide Snape’s disdain of having to be nice for once, resulting in a small laugh from you and then you getting detention reorganising the potions stores for supposed “immaturity”.

Despite the accolades, you can say you fall under the radar and mainly prefer this. Five years in and you know your place at Hogwarts.

Draco Malfoy however, doesn’t.

Draco isn’t sure what kicked in during third year, but all of a sudden you became the subject of his greatest desire and the bane of his existence simultaneously.

Of course, he can’t admit that.

He can’t admit that the flush on your cheeks when you answer questions slightly nervously in class gives him a feeling of pride that he can’t explain.

Or that seeing you dance with a Hufflepuff keeper at the Yule Ball led him to almost throwing his drink on any Slytherin who dared tease him about it.

And he definitely can’t admit that watching you play quidditch as Ravenclaw’s star chaser heats his entire body up and he now struggles to look away from you whenever you were near each other.

So how has he gone about showing any feelings towards you all these years? Bullying, namely.

“Professor Snape! Y/N over here has brother dearest’s penchant for attention seeking, just look at what she’s tried to do with her Sleeping Draught!”

In reality, you had just followed the instructions but had attempted to also brew a remedy to repel any sluggishness from the potion.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for sheer cheek, you should know better than to think fame would work on me.”

Or the countless times he’s jinxed your legs in the hallways to where you simply cannot walk without tripping over yourself or someone else.

Or most painfully, the times he’s used Harry’s obvious disinterest in you as a talking point.

“At least brother Potter knows better than to associate with a teachers pet who eats lunch alone. You’re telling me even the ghosts don’t find you good enough company?”

You can say that you’ve been strong enough to handle most of this, but seeing a look in Harry’s eyes where he’s essentially admitting to agreeing with Malfoy was enough to bring you to tears several times.

Right now it’s the start of fifth year.

Draco’s prefect badge is glossy and reflects brightly on his green robes, and he’s ready to solidify his authority whilst waiting in the prefect’s carriage with Pansy gripping his arm for dear life.

What he doesn’t anticipate is seeing you walk through a few moments later, with a blue and bronze badge mirroring his and a small proud smile on your lips as you sit separately from the other prefects.

Truth is, it’s terrifying to be surrounded by people you know that don’t like you, but fake it till you make it right?

Not so easy to do when you get mainly the same patrolling times to Draco and he ruthlessly persues underclass men.

“Detention to you for liking the Weasley’s, and detention to you because a Hufflepuff staying in the greenhouse past curfew sounds lame.”

“Malfoy, they’re only first years.”

“Want me to give you detention for undermining your authority as prefect, Potter?”

You genuinely didn’t have a response to something so stupid, but sheer embarrassment doesn’t stop you from facing Malfoy directly and simply saying “I dare you.”

And from that evening forward, Draco does what he can to push you into confronting him as often as possible, only to turn the tables and create tension that neither of you can easily rid of.

Some evenings whilst checking classrooms, Draco has you pushed against a table wanting to see you push against him and see a familiar pink blush crawl across your cheeks.

Other evenings it’s flirting with you, only to turn it around and attempt to remind you (and possibly himself) that it means nothing and that he’d rather swallow bubotuber puss than be attracted to you.

And suddenly it’s later in term, post Ravenclaw and Slytherin match in which you contributed to the house’s 100 point lead before the snitch was caught, and now tasked with locating any rogue students switching between common rooms at late-night parties.

Despite assumptions otherwise, Ravenclaw and Slytherin students get along fairly well. Maybe a little too well because Filch and Umbridge seem to have problems with “endless snogging.”

It’s a phrase so daft it gets a laugh out of you and Draco, and suddenly he senses an opportunity.

“I wonder what they would think of the two prefects who also play quidditch snogging in the corridor.”

Thankfully you recognise it as bait.

“If only one of the prefects wasn’t an insufferable toad, that could work.”

“A Toad?”

“Worse than a ferret, I presume.”

And now you’re pushed against a wall with barely any air between you both with a glint in Draco’s eyes and his arms on either side of your head.

You’re not sure if it’s the forced proximity from being so close across this first term, but you recognise just how sharp his jaw has gotten.

And you also recognise how easily he can keep you close to him, his lips only an inch away.

Maybe having someone to snog isn’t such a bad thing really.

“I can promise you, you will regret those words.”

“Really? And how are you supposed to do that, Malfoy.”

Draco doesn’t know it’s the confidence in your voice or the look of determination, but he can’t help himself and before he can argue with himself his lips are on yours.

He’s rough, holding your face in his hands and making sure your lips follow his as you instantly melt.

Time doesn’t exist in the minutes between you two as you both focus on nothing but each other, moving your hands to feel the strength of his arms and wanting nothing more than bringing Draco closer to you.

A second passes and his lips briefly leaves yours, whispering “jump”.

You don’t need to be told twice, and now your legs are wrapped around his waist and his lips meet yours again.

Neither of you want to admit it, but you’re both dreading the moment this is going to end.

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 - "this suitcase, livelier than it ever was"

Timekeeper Team x Reader 1.4k words fluff, comfort, found family Day or night. In the morning, in the evening, in the afternoon. Inside, where it's warm, or outside, where it's cold. Home is wherever your newfound, little family is.

this is something that started on the r1999 roleplay server, a little collaborative writing moment we had. I wanted to expand on it with this slightly new format because it makes me. so deranged to think about the domesticity of living in vertin's suitcase with everyone else, all of your friends <3

this is just the early morning version! but we also talked about the afternoon and night time hehehoho. shoutout to everyone who was there for the nuclear bombs that were dropped that day, we did it we survived!!!

It's early in the morning, and you smell the scent of warm food before the sun hits your eyes.

Despite the voices, you know who is in the kitchen just by smell alone; this is Bunny Bunny's special pancake recipe, the one she learned from her grandmother. Those are the two, maybe three pots of coffee being brewed at once for Horropedia, Bette, Kaalaa Baunaa and more. There are footsteps echoing all over the building, they come from above on the up and down, from left and right.

You don't feel the need to get dressed and be presentable before leaving your room, your pajamas work just as well. Right away, you see Blonney, her long, blonde hair tangled up in knots, ushering Jessica into one of the bathrooms, the cleanest one in this floor; they do this all the time, this is their routine. You know it'll be an hour or two before they finish, but if you're nice, they will let you join them. Jessica notices you right away and waves with an endearingly big smile across her face. She tells you that Blonney is going to groom her fur today, since they have a photoshoot for one of her projects.

Blonney follows her gaze, she gestures for you to "hurry and get your ass in here with them if you want her to do your hair" in a way that a stranger would perceive as hostile. But you're no stranger, you know of the hidden, sisterly affection in her words. And you also know better than to intrude whenever one of her movie projects is involved. The door shuts behind them after you politely decline. The last thing you hear is Jessica's muffled voice bidding you goodbye.

It's early in the morning, and your hair is a mess. There's another bathroom down the hall, but that's usually where the children of the suitcase go to see who is the fastest at brushing their teeth and washing their face--you'd rather not come out of there, wet and covered in toothpaste. Your other option is an even bigger gamble; there is a mirror in Pavia's room, but catching him in a good mood is the tricky part. For all you know, he's not even there, and he's one of the very few people who still lock their doors. Even so, he has no issue barging into your room unannounced every so often.

Regulus it is, then. You know she's awake because of the shrill sound of her music, a permanent vibration in the walls that all of her neighbors have grown used to. The smile on her face is big and welcoming once she opens the door to greet you, she says you look like shit and lends you her hair brush. Mr APPLe is not with her this time, but you know that he's the one making sure that Regulus wakes up in time for breakfast--a pirate needs to be quick to eat, he would say, and she would then repeat this to you.

You walk with Regulus towards the kitchen. You have to step over many of the forgotten toys scattered throughout the hallways. You nod in greeting to Zima, who always walks nearest to the wall, as if to avoid being in anyone's personal space. In his hands, he holds a small plate of pastries and a cup, his companion Zima--the bird-- pecks away at the small crumbs. It chirps at you and the two return to their room.

It's early in the morning, and you sit down with all the friends from all over the world that you've made ever since Vertin took you in. The Timekeeper herself sits across from your spot, discussing the puzzles in today's newspaper with Sonetto. A plate of pancakes is set down on the table, just for you, with the toppings that you love and the perfect amount that you usually eat. When you look up, you see Tooth Fairy smiling down at you; today, she's the one helping Bunny Bunny, tomorrow it will be someone else as the schedule pinned on the fridge indicates. Your turn won't come in a while, but you know that tonight you're in charge of doing the dishes with Leilani.

Something touches your leg, and you lean down to see the twins, Luisa and Louise, attempting to feed gummy bears to Pickles, who solemnly looks away each and every time the sweet candy nears his mouth. Eventually, he trots off and they chase after him, surprising and almost knocking Oliver out of his chair. Some laugh, some call out to the kids, some point out the sudden flushed look on the boy's face.

Regulus asks for seconds, and she fights with Centurion over the biggest, tastiest looking pancake in the batch; this is a contest Regulus knows she can't win, yet she tries anyway. The pancake ends on Centurion's plate before anyone can even understand how, luck always on the gambler's side--but she still goes out of her way to cut it in half and share with the pirate. When she catches your eye, she offers you some, she even suggests that you add hot sauce to enhance the flavor. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume she was joking, but she isn't.

You decline, and someone else takes your place. Shamane rests a hand on the back of your chair, leaning forward from behind you to reach out and take a small piece of hot sauce covered pancake from Centurion's plate. His voice is booming, happy and energetic, and it remains so even after the combination renders his taste buds useless. You quickly offer your own glass of water and he takes it gladly as another round of laughter begins around the table.

Now that Shamane has indulged in the shenanigans, the children follow suit; Kanjira stands on her chair, offering to try the food as well, but Matilda pulls her down by the arm, shaking her head in both disappointment and genuine concern. Erick is next, then Eagle. It's only when Bunny Bunny threatens to hold off dessert that the table calms down.

On your left, Druvis III sits quietly, enjoying the atmosphere. When you first met her, you assumed her to be the solitary type, preferring the comfort of her trees than a room full of people. But now you understand her a little better. She notices you glancing her way and asks if you slept well, falling into a pleasant conversation with you. She mentions an outing with Sotheby, a small excursion to the wilderness to search for ingredients; if you'd like, you're welcome to join them. This is a genuine sentiment, not an invitation that she extends out of politeness, having been raised among other nobles and aristocrats, an environment in which every little detail came with hidden, ulterior motives. You tell her that you will, if you have time--Spathodea has asked you to spot her while she trains, since Desert Flannel is too busy with her many, many jobs today.

Right! And after that, you might have a mission with Charlie and The Fool! And then, after that, you want to rest before Baby Blue's tea party. Druvis III listens attentively, praising you for having the energy to do so much in so little time. A small voice jumps in, Cristallo informs you that Baby Blue's tea party has been moved--it will happen in two days from now on, after an accident involving Diggers and his bubbles rendered greenhouse unusable, covered in foam and his special bubble solution.

Tooth Fairy gasps ever so gently, like she just remembered something small, like her keys on the table; but she comments on how her instructions, paired with Horropedia's ideas, might have pushed Diggers down the wrong path. Gossip runs fast, and everyone quickly wants to know what sort of shenanigans Tooth Fairy would even entertain in the first place.

There is much on your mind, so many things to notice and look forward to, that you don't notice Erick stealing a strawberry from your plate. When you look out the window, you see the silhouettes of your other friends in the fields or perched by the trees.

A pair of curious eyes land on you.

You look healthier, happier even--a strong contrast to the state you were in when she found you. Vertin smiles, she knows exactly how you feel. It's the same for her, after all.

[mtkay13]

Working hard on the business!!

I had a lot of fun working on this piece that fits well as a companion to this one! I really, really enjoy Wuxi and Zishu's side hustle and think about it a lot.

More musings on this piece below!

I have been thinking a lot about Wuxi and Zishu's relationship for the past few months--working on the translation of Qiye has given me a fresh look and new perspective on it which I feel like elaborating on for a bit.

While they come from very different place and are 5 years apart in age, Wuxi and Zishu seem to rather quickly relate to each other due to both being outsiders--to the capital and its codes. It's very sweet to see how quickly Wuxi seems intrigued and interested in Zishu, wanting to know more about him and quick to react when he's around.

Beiyuan is Wuxi's only friend so far, and I think it's very refreshing for Wuxi to find another person with whom he may be able to relate more on some regards, and whom he can look up to in terms of martial arts skills and craftiness. This is a personal HC of mine, but I sort of see Wuxi as having this sort of (fully platonic) "cool older guy crush" on Zishu.

Because of that, I feel like Zishu showing interest in Wuxi and going as far as to offer him to collaborate must have been incredibly validating and exciting. It was a way for Wuxi to be more independent, do something for himself aside from his own training, aside from his role as the young shaman of Nanjiang. Something for his own experimentation and profit--be useful, but also be shown respect and interest by someone he himself is interested in and respects.

I like to imagine that Zishu was already interested in poisons given his field of work and potentially learned a thing or two about that back in Siji manor--even potentially worked on some of his own, and was therefore more than excited to be able to figure out new things with Wuxi's help. On top of that, it must have been pretty fun and gratifying to work on this side hustle which in turn also helped gain some more control over the population (welp).

So yeah! It's nice to think more about what lead to the bond they have, and I can't help but think of how affected Wuxi must have been in TYK when he discovers Zishu's state several years later. Regardless of how helpful Zishu was when Wuxi worked to get Beiyuan out of the capital, he was a friend first and foremost and that alone must be a big reason why Wuxi is so determined to find a way to save him.

(that aside, the illustration was more fun to make than I initially feared. I usually don't like having to work on a ton of tiny details LOL but somehow the atmosphere here made it entertaining!)

(btw! I don't know if I mentioned it before, but in case I didn't: I transliterate "Wuxi" as such ((in one word)) because, him not being han, it feels more right to transliterate his name in a non-han fashion as well. It's unlikely that his family name is Wu and first name is Xi--rather, Nanjiang/Wasa names seem to work differently ((same for Axinlai and Nuaha)) than the typically han family name-first name model. Many thanks to Lianzi and the other members of the 7.0 team for bringing that up! That's it!)

[faeryarchives]

to my beloved (octavinelle x gn!s/o)

requested by anon: Hello! Welcome back from your hiatus! Hope you’re doing alright and relaxing. For request, may I request headcanons of Azul, Floyd, and Jade please? Pre-established relationship and their gn!s/o who likes to give gifts as a love language? Like handmade gifts or found trinkets/baubles the boys might enjoy. Thank you for your consideration! note: anon u are so sweet 🤍 hihi gift giving love language with octatrio sounds so interesting + SO i got into debate last night with my friends on what pre established means if it has no label yet or just having a crush so i decided to write it at the stat of their relationship recent works: i'm not jealous !! (savanaclaw x gn!reader) & octavinelle with a fischl like female reader! & let me kiss you

💌 azul ashengrotto

"oh, a gift for me? do perhaps need my help?" "oh silly azul! i knitted that octopus keychain for you! don't you want to have a little companion while you work?"

this was new to azul - both being in relationship with you and receiving such gifts because as someone wary of apparent gestures of goodwill and believing that “all contracts come with a price” he isn't use to receiving gifts just because it reminds you of him

is it for real? he tried asking you for the fifth time to confirm only to receive the same answer over and over again

he never met someone as generous as him 😭

"azul! azul! look! i got us matching bracelet, this one actually matches your eyes." "o-oh my word, matching bracelets?! aren't we too young for that?!" "...'zul we just kissed earlie-"

having to receive gifts from you just makes his heart so full especially when you also give him coins! + adds it to his collection

expect to see him putting some of your gifts on a special shelf in his office while your other gifts especially plushies are safely tucked in his bed (he sleeps hugging them)

as much as he loves receiving gifts from you, azul wants to give you with the same thought as you have - giving you the things that reminds him of you

"please my love, accept my gift. you've showered me so much love. it would be just fair if i also shower you the same"

💌 jade leech

at first jade was confused - why are you avoiding his eyes and hiding something behind your back?

"love, what are you hiding behind your back" "jade! funny thing, so the ghosts at the ramshackle dorm got me into knitting and so i was thinking maybe a scarf would be nice so-" "so this is a scarf you made for... me? i love it." "really?!"

giving you a little push was his best decision because before jade knew it - his room is covered with gifts from you

receiving something from you as well as seeing you smiling and happy is the best thing he could ever get as a gift

always show your gift to floyd every time to the point that the other eel start to whine to you about jade bragging

"jade cried?!" "yeah! he was wiping his tears after opening one of your letters with "open when you are happy"!" "he can cry...?"

he couldn't help it you know - receiving small trinkets to small envelops with letters from you? can a person could even love him more than this?

in return, jade would try to give you more practical gifts like the things that needs to be repaired back at your dorm, he would replace it with a functioning one! feeling cold and alone at night even when you are with grim - this eel will give you the most comfortable pillows and blankets and even gift grim a new bed!

"jade, i don't think i deserve it?" "nonsense, you deserve everything in this world has to offer."

💌 floyd leech

"floyd, do you have a moment?" "what's up shrimpy- oh, a shrimp brooch?" "i found it while going on shopping with grim earlier at sam's shop, i just thought you might like it."

like it? floyd loves it! you will never catch him not having that brooch on him every day + wears it like a medal

but there was so much more he didn't expect like you to have more under your sleeves!

"an explosion box for me? shrimpy, i thought you were busy this whole week?" "i did! but i will be never busy in creating and giving you something while i am away."

floyd is more like a physical touch giver but seeing you putting so much effort in your gifts - giving him from small to big valuable things it would be unfair if he doesn't give anything back (or so he thought)

this eel tried asking what you want only to receive vague answers

"what do you want shrimpy?" "i don't really need anything in return you know? i gave you gifts because i love to shower you with it." "so it's okay to also give you anything?"

and by mean of anything - you were in for a ride because you two meant things differently 😭

floyd is the type to always let you borrow his clothes from time to time and sometimes gifts you the same jacket for you to guys match + seeing an eel plushie? bought and giving it to you for you to hug your child every night (he said its your child now)

it doesn't take too long for both of you showering each other with gifts 😭 he never knew it would be this fun to think something for you

"you were looking at that necklace when we were walking around town, so i thought it would be a perfect fit for you. do you love it, shrimpy?"

[rayroseu]

hm... i wish people dont wrangle and correct different interpretations of malleus too much lol

he is kind, he is evil, he is temperamental, he is eeriely calm, he is insufferable, he is a nice companion, he is forceful, he is also understanding, malleus is the mix of kindness and evil because his parents are the embodiments of those opposite sides (Meleanor being the Evil Princess and Levan being the only Kind fae who aspired peace).

There is no purely Evil Malleus or a Kind Malleus. I think Malleus is just growing up lol

Despite the story depicting him as "monstrous," (in my opinion) no character in the story encapsulates the "true experience" of growing up as well as Malleus' story does.

Of course, growing up means being fearful of aging, losing people, and everything changing without your control. It's not inspiring to know that despite your hard work in making yourself "a proper adult (and a royalty too in his case)", there is no reward such as "everlasting happiness" no matter how much he suffers. That he's damned to lose anything and nothing is forever. Growing up means you only have yourself (alone) in this world.

I also like the fact that Malleus' story growing up says one true thing: that everyone really dislikes suffering lol. Malleus canonical fear is the "unknown." I feel like beyond losing Lilia (and Yuu), he just can't imagine a world without them. For him, a world without Lilia is "an unknown world," a reality with no good outcomes. So he avoids that reality happening because its essentially his unknown, (his fear and suffering).

But idk, I never find any story that gives satisfying argument against "the importance of being hurt and losing anyone", I feel like its just sugarcoating if you say its needed for the "happiness to be worth it." That's why I understand why Malleus also believes he's correct for eliminating pain in the world lol I hope TWST gives a new unique answer to convince Malleus that its okay for him to lose anyone and be back in present time.😭🙏🏻✨

[rederiswrites]

Alright, I've got to get the gripes out. Doesn't mean you have to read it. If you love the game you probably shouldn't. This is for people who are really disappointed or angry about...things and would like to feel like they're not alone.

This is not about the absolute value of Veilguard. I enjoyed the game and I am, if anything, enjoying it more on the second playthrough. Like all the other installations, inevitably it is its own thing. Some franchises are just logical continuations of their previous installments, but Dragon Age has never been like that and I sure wouldn't expect it after this long since the last installment.

[Edited to add that I reblog locked it but 100% encourage sharing your feelings in the replies or even my dms. It's fine to talk about it! I want to talk about it!]

That said, my biggest gripes about Veilguard:

The sanitizing of the Crows

Come on now. I even defended you, Bioware! Before the game, I said, nahhhh they won't make the Crows Good Guys just because of Lucanis! Lucanis was tortured too! Well, they didn't do that, I guess. They did it as part of a much larger pattern of ironing out the moral grey areas the franchise was formerly known for.

The Crows are Patriots! Well, they are. And also, though you wouldn't know it, slavers and torturers and murderers of children. You'd be forgiven for not realizing that, considering the creation of the feel good House for orphans who really wanna be contract killers. But it is pretty foundational lore and all. There is the like, one previous Crow character, whom they wrote as going on a righteous mission to kill Crows, because of the whole them being bad thing.

What was being raised by the head of the Crows like, Lucanis? Torture? Hahaha funny oh you mean literally. Literally your grandmother tortured and starved you and never gave you the slightest choice in your life and you've accepted that because you accept the logic that it was necessary. But again. That's based on my knowledge of material outside this game.

Any previous game would have reveled in that! Do you ally yourself with these people, this objectively bad organization full of people who don't see themselves as bad at all? Because they are very good at killing, and that's what you need! But this game just makes them good guys. No moral dilemma needed. Nope, we like black and white now.

And speaking of which,

The dehumanization of the Antaam

Ew. Ew ew ew.

Gimme a minute and I'll come up with something better to say but seriously? Ew.

They neither look nor sound like any of the other qunari characters. They sound like animals, literally. Exactly once does one make the slightest attempt to do anything but attack you--and then he attacks you anyway. Not a single one deserts. I guess the lesson here is that apparently qunari really do become mindless beasts without the structure and discipline of the Qun??? Ew. No thank you.

I know, you gotta have faceless mooks. In Inquisition we fought rebel mages for absolutely no good reason but that they attacked us. In da2 thugs literally fell from the sky. But the absolutely comprehensive way in which the Antaam never spoke for themselves, as actual people... Wow.

Imagine. Imagine if we could have actually negotiated an agreement with a group of them, for that final battle. Would that have been so impossible? To fight mages?! Imagine if we'd had a former Antaam companion. Imagine if he'd been mulling over what the Arishok, Sten, the OG proof that qunari are NOT animals outside the Qun, said before the Antaam rebelled.

Mythal: basically a nice mother goddess!

What. What. What.

In this, the culmination of her sins, the finale of Solas' millennia of taking the blame for shit she set in motion, Mythal is... Flat as hell. Millennia of her scheming. Surviving. Using and abusing her children, arguably using and abusing Solas, seducing and manipulating and whatever it takes to nudge things her way. And now she's just... Kinda imperious I guess? And Morrigan just has her memories and nothing is bad about that ever. Huh.

The thing is, I was never against Mythal, in all her complex nastiness. We didn't know what her game was! I just wanted to know! What made it all worth it? What was the plan?

Well I guess the plan was--nothing? Don't worry about it. I guess.

Side note, the design work on the Mythal fragment was some Computer Animation Is My Passion, early 2000's Barbie straight to VHS looking shit. Profoundly disappointing. Did you even try.

Tell, don't show

Is the strange new voice in the blight coming from over there really horrifying? Or did you just say it was roughly fifteen times, but then actually it was just a big blob of Blight that you had to shoot extra times? Is the Butcher cruel? Or did Teia and Viago just tell us he was cruel with absolutely no detail whatsoever? Is Minrathous really blighted if you choose to save Treviso? Or are there just more beggars and some rubble and literally one blighted character? And so on, and so forth.

Remember that popular post not long ago, about how one of the great joys of Dragon Age was the sifting through unreliable narrators? Piecing together Avvar epic poetry and fragments of ancient elvhen runes and Andrastian canticles to try to guess what actually happened. The unique and unusual (in fiction) joy of the historiography of it all? We got to actively engage with the discovery. We got to piece together that Solas was the Dread Wolf, bit by difficult to find bit.

The fridge horror of it all could be really incredible. Making us work it out for ourselves meant that we experienced it much more intimately. It was an incredible storytelling tool.

Yeah I guess we just watch movies about it now. Just plug in the DVD Wolf statuette and now we know. And the codexes are reduced to flavor text and puzzle clues.

And last but definitely most,

Flat writing

Look man I know that's subjective as shit but it was. A lot of it was. You either agree or you don't, but for me, it was never more obvious than in the moments of contrast, when it was up to standard. The conversation with the Butcher. Every minute with Solas. Spite.

Contrast the Butcher (intense! Passionate! Creepy fucken pale face Harkonnen vibes! Deranged but genuine love for Treviso!) with the Dragon King (I don't even know what to put here. You don't even have to fight him! He just...blusters, and then there's a dragon, and then Taash shoves him and he falls over.)

It's just...I could probably forgive a lot of the stuff that went before if it was just more compellingly written.

Even here I absolutely will not be getting into character complaints. Those are too personal, and frankly I think people should keep them to private conversations. They have too much potential to hurt people for too little gain.

Sigh. I'm done now. I will try to focus on the good and the creative because I think that contributes a great deal more to everything and everyone. But for now, let me contemplate what could have been.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

BTS' Partner They Need

Alright, let's take a look at what type of partner they will need. This group may need help from the boyfriend reading I got from them, so let's see what messages come through.

Alright, these messages seem all over the place. Let's take a look at the cards.

Jin (Knight of Coins/White Raven Spirit/Peace) I would say he needs someone patient and calm. A person who is goal oriented. A person who stays the course, a dependable person. Jin's energy may be a bit all over the place and it may be hard for him to stay focused on a task, so he may need someone who can help him with that. I don't see him being good with someone who pushes too hard. He needs someone who takes their time and is patient for him to commit, maybe someone slow to commit as well. He would need someone who has faith in things. Someone who believes in the unseen and unknown, not sure why he needs this. Maybe because he struggles to do this himself. To allow him to be more optimistic about life. He would need someone with a calm aura, a very peaceful person. I would say someone angelic with a beautiful warm aura. They could be spiritual as well. He might need someone who can calmly get him to commit to them.

Suga (3 of Swords/Otter Spirit/Prosperity) This boy has been hurt and broken hearted a lot. I think he will need someone who understands his hurt and allows him to communicate that hurt. There needs to be open communication there. He may also need someone who has been hurt themselves, so they can relate. I don't think he can have a partner that hasn't gone through sh** themselves. He would need a companion he can depend on. Who will not make him feel alone. He would need someone very comforting. Who can hug and nurture him after a long day. He would need someone with an abundant mindset. Maybe someone rich and successful in their own right, or someone confident in their talents and gifts. Just someone prosperous. Who takes an opportunity out of anything. Through their struggles they find the opportunity in it all. He would also need someone goal oriented and maybe someone who likes to make money. It could be rich financially or spiritually.

RM (3 of Wands/Porcupine Spirit/Happiness) He may need someone from a different background them him. Maybe someone he can travel with. Someone who can get him out of his environment or comfort zone. He would need someone with a vision. Someone who wants to go places. Someone in it for the long haul. He will need someone who understands he may travel a lot. He will need someone who can get him out of his old ways of thinking. To give him a fresh perspective in life. I swear this is telling him to date someone from a different background. Maybe because Korean people don't fit his style. He kind of needs to expand. It is like he needs to move somewhere else and meet this person. This is a weird message. Like dude needs to date a foreigner. That is where he may find the happiness, he needs or desires. I feel like he will vibe with a foreigner more. It is like the Korean dating style doesn't work for him, this is weird but going with it. I keep getting he needs to expand beyond what he knows or his environment. Wild message lol

J-Hope (Justice/Badger Spirit/Home) He would need someone who stands for peace and justice for all. He would need someone more logical and rational. Someone who is levelheaded and fair. He would need someone bold and strong. Someone who has no fear. They kind of go on their own path. They follow the rules of fairness but have their own original flair to them. They shine on their own, like himself, they may need that sunshine energy. I say someone highly emotional is not for him. He would need someone nurturing and stable as well. Someone he can be comfortable around. Someone he can build a nice comfortable home and environment with. I can see this person getting a lot of attention. It is like they aren't afraid to be themselves. He may need someone who is a homebody as well. I see either his partner he needs having Gemini, Libra, Aries and some Cancer in their chart. I can also see them having a great way of dressing or having a unique way of styling themselves. Not sure why that would pop up in his needs, but okay.

Jimin (8 of Wands/Horse Spirit/Healing) He would need someone exciting, fast moving, and adventurous type of person. A person who can handle a lot that comes at them. He would need a carefree spirit who has a lot going for themselves. He would need someone who can allow him to have fun and free him from his thoughts. Someone who doesn't take life seriously. Someone who can allow him to break free from his limitations. I am just getting someone who is carefree and adventurous. Who will take him to a lot of places and have fun with him, so he can forget his worries. He would need someone very energetic and extroverted. All of this can help him on his healing process to help him escape his thoughts and just allow him to be free when they are together. He limits himself a lot, or restrains himself, so he needs someone who can help him break free of that. Not much else here.

V (Wheel of Fortune/Koala Spirit/Travel) I feel like this is telling me a lot of things at once. He would need someone who is always moving towards a positive direction. Someone who rarely looks back, or let's setbacks get the best of them. Someone always on the move. Someone who is always evolving for the better. He doesn't need anyone with stagnant energy, who stays stuck in cycles. They are always moving in the right direction. He would need someone patient, calm, more on the spiritual side. Someone who doesn't rush things. They kind of understand destiny and that things will happen when it happens. He wouldn't need someone with an aggressive, competitive approach to life. They continue making steps forward gradually. But as long as they keep moving. He would need someone to travel with, or understand he travels a lot, but he may need someone to go the distance for him. He may also need someone foreign as well. I can see him needing someone who can travel with him though. Also, someone who takes their time with things. He doesn't need someone who rushes about things, which is why he may need someone foreign with a slower pace mindset. Side message, but I can see him traveling to meet someone, it can't be now, since he is in the Military, but maybe afterwards. Weird, side message.

Jungkook (Knight of Wands/Moth Spirit/Justice) Well, he would need someone passionate, spontaneous, carefree, someone who doesn't have many cares in the world. Someone who goes after what they want. Maybe someone who pursues him relentlessly lol Someone who doesn't give up on something they desire or passionate about. I can see this person pushing him to do things. He would need someone who can be vulnerable and just let go of things. It is like someone with aggressive energy but can also be soft and vulnerable. He would need someone with balance. Someone who seeks fairness and balance in a relationship, maybe to help him be this way as well, because his boyfriend reading showed he isn't that way. This person may need to have a balance of different traits. He may need someone who sees both sides of things and understands his view of things, maybe this can help him see their side of things as well. He may need someone who is open to his flaws and does their best to help him through that. This person needs to help him let go of this relentless energy he has and to allow him to let go of his insecurities, his need to be right, and to help him learn to moderate his emotions or his intense nature. I don't know, he is a lot to be honest. This was kind of hard for me to wrap my head around. Honestly, good luck to who dates him. He needs work.

Well, this was interesting. I knew I would get some interesting messages. It kind of felt all over the place to be honest lol