#also when he says hes not judging you its in the most judging tone

[moeblob]

The extremely niche crossover only I want to see... Kingdom Hearts x Monark.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT4

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

P1 P2 P3 END

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho - Use of (Y/N) - Heavy Angst - Protective!In-ho - Panic!Reader - grammar mistakes -

"You must be joking" Were your first words after listening to Gi-hun's plan. "Do you even know how many guards are out there? Or how prepared they are?"

After another round of voting things had ended in a tie. Not much time after it a fight had occurred inside the men bathroom. Gi-hun had said how most likely the ones who voted circles would attack the X group during lights out.

And while it scared you to no end, specially for your dear baby, his plan was still something your mind could not get. If they had all the power to make so many peopel vanish and also kill them off like it was nothing...what chance did they had against them?

In-ho who knew very well how much that plan would fail (even if he was not inside the games) was only worried over you.

Since the talk during the last game he had got protective. He was by your side, making you be behind him and having a protective grio on your arm or hand.

The rest did notice but no one commented a thing, besides it would only make the athmosphere uncomfortable.

Jun-hee was the only one who had asked you during one go to the restroom. She was not judging, her own baby's father was here after all. She was just curious on what was the story of you two. Why you two seemed to be so apart at the start and now were close.

"Its almost a story you would read on a book" Jun-hee said as you cleaned your hands and laughted.

"Barely, it all started as a one night thing. Then I was so stupid that I forgot the pill. We did not see each other for months and now...we are here"

"But he cares. He cares so much. Really I can see it on how he looks at you!! Even before the migle game"

"Yeah...I do care for him too. I want us to get out and try to live together or be a real couple..."

"Well, we may be able to leave but the plan of Seong..."

"Its crazy. We wont make it. I- I cant even help them"

"I cant either, only thing I can do its hide once the lights go off" Jun-hee tried to make you feel better. "Its better like that, we need to think not only for ourselfs but our babys"

"You are right, but Jun-ho wants to help..."

"You are worried for him" She indicated "Thats cute"

"And a pain, I wish he would have said no to that plan"

"Maybe he is thinking in you and the baby. Maybe he wants to leave really badly and sees no other way out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once you two returned the place seemed to be under lots of pressure. There was a tension, how some circles would look at Xs and back. It was unnerving and maybe even worse than the games themselfs.

"Can we talk?" In-ho came towards you "Alone" He added seeing Jun-hee besides you who nodded and went with the rest of the group.

In-ho moved so you two were away from everybody.

"Its this about Gi-hun's plan?" You asked and he nodded.

"Yes, it is. You should hide when the lights go off and not participate when we go for the guns" In-ho said in a serious tone. Even if the guards would never (if they liked their lives) put a hand on you unless he said so, the rest of the players were out of his control.

"I know, I cant do much anyways" You responded touching your belly "Why did you end saying yes ? We could win tomorrow ...."

In-ho took a deep breath. The reason were multiple ones. On one part this would be a good chance to get himself and you out from the games. If he did things right. And on other part he did not want to risk on tomorrow voting. Even if during the night Xs fought and lived nothing did for centrain said they would not vote circle next day.

"I believe in him" He lied "I understand its a dangerous move on our part, but I dont trust the others, not for tonight and not for tomorrow's voting"

You wanted to tell him to back off from it. You did not want to lose him in case the plan went wrong. But his next words shattered you.

"And I want you two out of here. Another game would cause you much stress, its not good for you our the baby...the little one has been strong so far but there is nothing like being safe and out of here"

When he said "little one" there was a small soft smile on his face, you could see how his hands wanted to reach and caress your belly once more but he held himself back.

"Hide well, I mean it. I dont trust any of them"

"I will, please dont worry about me"

Impossible. You and that baby are the most precious things to me right now.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho insisted on staying besides you when the lights went off. Just in case.

He had one hand wrapped around your waist and had pushed your head into his chest. He told you to close your eyes and ignore all of it, that if someone even dared to come near the bed where you two were hide then he would kill them. Of course he did not use these exact words in order not to scare you.

The screams of pain were terrible to hear, In-ho tried to shh you and tell you that it would soon end while also keeping a watchful eye.

Finally it was time, he kissed your cheeck on impulse and told you to not intervene. He went out just as the guards started to get inside the room.

You saw one coming towards him, but before it could even check the infamous chip inside his neck (as Gi-hun had explained earlier) he took them with force and in a clean move ended their life while also taking their gun.

The next was a small exchange of bullets and screams, the guards were finally leaving but one was left behind. Even if you saw them as nothing as monsters...their seemed scared.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Stay here, no matter what you hear. Stay here with Jun-hee. It will be safe" He assured you, like he knew more than what he was letting out.

"But what if you- what if something happens to you?" You asked him with tears already falling, not knowing that he would be safe.

It broke his heart to see you like that. So worried over him when there was nothing to be worried about. But he could not tell you, not here.

"Shh, I will be fine. I promise you" After a small pause he added "I promise both of you" His hand resting on your belly.

"In-ho, its time" Gi-hun said softly when he saw the exchange, part of him felt bad for interrumping the sweet moment. And was feeling guilty already, he knew he could not let In-ho die.

"Yes, on it"

"I love you, both of you" In-ho softly said finally leaving.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The gunshots would be hear from the room, you flinched everytime, worried that one of these was mean for In-ho.

"Breath (Y/N)" Jun-hee reminded you when she saw you starting to panic. "They will be alright"

"Jun-hee...dont tell me things you can guarnate" You whispered hugging her and she just held you there. It was true, she could not be sure if they would make it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

In his mind this part was supposed to be easy, trick Gi-hun into thinking that he and the rest had died. But it would mean making you believe that he was dead as well.

He pressed his lips on a thin line, worried over you and the baby. His little one. The only good thing was that he would be able to pull you out from the games but-

But you would have to believe that he was indeed dead.

"Take player 344 from the room, bring her to my room and call the Doctor too. Do not harm her" He ordered to one of his most trusted square guards.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once more the guards entered, pulling everybody to their knees and demanding them to be under control.

You started to tremble not because of the imposed figure of a saqueare guard over you, saying something about you having to go back with them. Your mind was working on In-ho..was he? Was he really?

Jun-hee despite the protest of player 333 went towards you and the guard to try and keep you there saying how you had nothing to do with the attack. But the guard only pointed their gun to her, that broke your somehow dazed state.

"I will go, just let her be"

"No (Y/N)!" Jun-hee tried to go towards you but was held back by Player 333.

"Dont worry Jun-hee" You said giving her a sad smile.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You had no idea where you were being taken. The guard did not say a word but also kept a slow peace like he was taking care over you.

You two made it a elevator, all black inside. The guard urged you inside and pushed some buttons till it started to move.

The doors opened revealing a dark corridor the guard guided you towards a big black door, he opened it revealing a big screen now turned off and a black couch. But there was another guard, however this was only had his face covered by the black fabric only his eyes were seen.

You took note of a few medical tools and you started to get nervous.

"Stay calm, I was told to check on your health and your baby, please sit here. We can move you to the bed to examine your baby"

Now you were confused, why check your health? What about Jun-hee?

"But there is another woman who-"

"I was only told to check on you. Please" He said tone incredible soft.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

After the examination the Guard (who told you he was a doctor) said that the baby was healthy, but that you needed rest and more food.

Both guards went to leave, but you stopped them.

"W-wait, im not going back?" You asked confused.

"Player 344, you have been eliminated from the games" Was the only response you got and were left alone in the dark room.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Sir, player 344 has been examinated and left in your room" The guard said to their Boss who just nodded back.

"I will be there soon"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Hours passed, you were scared. You stayied on the bed, too tired to move, this bed was too confortable too, and after listening to the Doctor's words you imagined this was good for your baby.

Even if you still felt bad.

You had been crying for the last hours, not beliving that In-ho could be dead, no in fact part of you refused to believe it.

And Jun-hee your friend...the one who was in the same desesperated situation as you. You could not believe she was still there...

Outside the door stood In-ho in his Front Man clothes, he was scared of your reaction, would he tell you it was him ? What was he supposed to do ?

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The doors opened making a sound, you had fallend asleep after crying. One hand on your belly like you were protecting it even in your sleep.

In-ho felt his heart go down and up, the sight was...beautiful in a strange way. Why could things dont be easier? You could wait for him like this everyday, the three of you could live together and he would be such a good father.

His gloved hand went to touch your face, slowly tracing your cheeck. Your tears broke his heart.

Your eyes started to move, and he pushed himself away. Not wanting to scare you.

Once you finally woke up you saw a dark figured, a black mask, you moved away against the wall.

"W-who are you?" You tone was evident, you were scared and confused.

"Im the Front Man, player 344 you have been eliminated from the games and will be sent back"

"What? Wait, does this mean I-"

In-ho held up his hand dont wanting you to continue, things were already too difficult for him.

"Your situation was analyzed and so decided that you wont continue"

"But- there is another woman! Jun-hee, player 222, she needs to be out as well" You exclaimed getting up and going closer to him.

"Player 222 will continue in the games. Thats final"

"B-but why?"

"Should you not be happy for you and your baby?"

"Im, but im not a hearthless person, if I can get out because of my situation then she can too"

In-ho took a deep breath, he could not believe how even now you were thinking in others.

But he that was part of your charm as well...

"Its a final decision, besides you are soon to give birth. That was what the Doctor said, we cant let that happen in here"

Without thinking his gloved hand went to your belly, one more time, he needed to feel it just one more time-

"Dont touch me" You said in grith theeth taking his hand and pushing it away. In all honestly I hurted him more than any pain he had endured before.

"You are a monster, you- You keep the games going and let others die. You are nothing but a piece of shit"

In-ho knew you were nervous, scared, angry and much more. But your words cut deep, his soul breaking.

"You will be send back home soon. I recommend you dont try to talk about this to others. Nothing good will come from it" These were going to be his last words for you when he turned back.

"W-wait, player 001, In-ho...is he"

"Player 001 has been eliminated" Were his final words, he did not turn when he hear your cry, knowing he would not resist going back and comfort you.

No, instead he went away. Blocking your cries. Outside a guard stood still waiting for orders.

"Check on her, make sure she does not hurt herself and that she eats her food tonight. All of it"

A bittersweet goodbye

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: An epilogue will be out !! 💜

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Tags:

@maria-trisha @blueyesuguru @imenekiki @victorie767 @futuristicdefendorfart @heyitsmefall

@love-you-louise @fantasylovestoryme @sleepyycatt @nightdark-dreamdark @lindsay00000 @ourlovesarang @smally97 @zigmasstuff @aleemendoz @the-disaster-in-waiting

@ilovequeen978 @sc4rrc @sylviavf @l4venderia @blueeclipsepaperstudent @annasnape7 @llawlietluv @florgenegrastuff @luv1ze @jspidey5

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I could not tag some of you 😔

[22ayla21]

I love your scenerios so much!!

If it's not too much, could I ask for how the amphoreus men would help their spouse through postpartum depression? It's okay if it's too uncomfortable though

Postpartum Depression Support

How Amphoreus men would help their wife with postpartum depression

From the Author: I could write a dissertation on the topic of how such vulnerable moments in a woman's life are natural and that men need to respond adequately, but also help their partners when they need support.

He would try to be there as often as possible, even if he had important things to do. If necessary, he would put aside his responsibilities, because his family comes first for him. He doesn’t pressure her with questions, but is always there if she wants to talk. Mydei knows how to listen, even if he doesn’t immediately understand all the emotions she’s going through.

He would help her with the baby, take the baby with him at night to give her a chance to sleep, or just bring him so she doesn’t have to get up unnecessarily. Understanding that she also needs time for herself, he would take the baby for a walk or do something with the kids so she could rest or just be alone.

He wouldn’t say “it’s just hormones” or “you can handle it,” but instead would sincerely tell her how much he appreciates her and everything she does. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, touches on the hands - he shows his love even without words, knowing that sometimes this is enough to make her feel safe.

He could organize a relaxing evening for her, a bath in warm water or her favorite tea, just to make her feel cared for. He would not pressure her, but would remind her that she is strong and loved. He believes in her, and this is the best support he can give.

If he noticed that she needed support from other close people, he would unobtrusively arrange a meeting with those who could support her. Mydei would not judge her for tears, irritability or fatigue, but would simply be there to experience it together.

Anaxa would never rush his wife to "get back to normal." He understands that this is a difficult period, and instead of saying things like "pull yourself together," he simply stays close, allowing her to experience her emotions. If he sees that his wife is exhausted, he silently picks up the baby, rocks him, changes his diapers, and even reads him scientific treatises - because who said that babies can't listen to something intellectual?

He makes sure that she eats on time, rests, and does not overexert herself. If she refuses to eat, he will find a way to convince her to eat, even if he has to resort to a soft but firm tone. He will not constantly ask "Are you okay?", but his presence will be felt. Even if he is working in his office, he is always ready to interrupt his work if he feels that she needs him.

If his wife feels like a bad mother or is worried about being tired, Anaxa will gently but confidently remind her that motherhood is not a perfect picture, but a natural process with its own difficulties. If she wants to talk, he listens. Even if these are complaints, tears or tired words like "I don't have time for anything," he will not devalue her feelings.

He is not a joker, but if he understands that she needs a release, he can say something like: "Our son is growing by leaps and bounds. Perhaps by tomorrow morning he will write his first theory?" - with an absolutely serious expression on his face.

Anaxa knows that his wife likes their cat, so he often "puts" the fluffy pet on her lap, silently watching as she begins to stroke him and relaxes a little. Sometimes the most important thing is just to hug. Without words, without explanations, just a strong embrace in which you can feel that you are not alone.

He does not say that everything will get better right away. He's just making it clear, "You're not alone. We're in this together. And we'll get through this."

Phainon knows his wife too well not to notice that something is wrong. If she has become quieter, more thoughtful, distant, or seems tired even after resting, he knows that it is not just physical fatigue. He will not bombard her with questions like "What happened?", but his actions speak for themselves: he stays close more often, discreetly helps with the baby, and carefully monitors her condition.

He will not allow his wife to feel like she has to cope with everything alone. Taking care of the child? He is already holding the baby in his arms. Housework? Everything is done. She needs to rest and recuperate. He not only hugs her more often, but also makes sure that she feels physically calm. He makes sure that she has a comfortable pillow, a warm bath, and the opportunity to just sit in silence.

He never allows her to feel like only "mom" and remind himself of her former life. He may suggest going outside for some fresh air, taking a walk, reading, or simply having an evening without talking about the kids. If she suddenly starts talking about her worries, he listens without interrupting or trying to “solve the problem” right away. He just listens, letting her talk.

He will never say something like, “You should be happy” or “Other mothers can handle it.” Instead, he says, “You are not alone. This is normal. And we can handle it together.”

If she has trouble falling asleep or the baby wakes her up at night, he gets up himself to calm the baby down, and asks her to rest. He will not allow fatigue to worsen her condition. He will not allow her to think that she is a bad mother or that she is doing something wrong. If he hears such words, he immediately tells her gently but firmly that she is the best mother, and the baby adores her.

He can lift her spirits in subtle ways - with a gentle joke, an unexpected hug, or by arranging a cozy evening where she can simply forget about her worries. If he sees that her condition is prolonged and getting worse, he will not be stubborn and will think about inviting her relatives or specialists who can help. Because the most important thing for him is that his wife is happy.

[drdemonprince]

I don't think I have it in me to be an abolitionist because I read that horrible story about the trans teen murdered in South Carolina and my knee jerk reaction is, those people should rot in jail, ideally forever, or worse. No matter how I look at it I can't make myself okay with the idea that you should be allowed to steal someone's life in such a horrible way and then just go back to enjoying your life. Some stuff is just too over the top evil.

You can have whatever emotions you want about that person's murderous actions, but the reality is that the carceral justice system is one of the largest sources of physical, emotional, and sexual torment for transgender people on this planet.

Transgender people are ten times more likely to be assaulted by a fellow inmate and five times more likely to be assaulted by a corrections officer, according to a National Center for Transgender Equality Report.

Within the prison system, transgender people are frequently denied gender-affirming medical care, and housed in populations that do not match their identity, which increases their odds of being beaten and sexually assaulted.

The alternative to being incorrectly housed with the wrong gendered population is that transgender people are also frequently held in solitary confinement instead, often for far longer periods on average than their non-transgender peers, contributing to them experiencing suicide ideation, self harm, acute physiological distress, a shrunk hippocampus, muscculoskeletal pain, chronic condition flare-ups, heart disease, reduced muscle tone, and numerous other proven effects of solitary confinement.

The prison system is also one of the largest sites of completely unmitigated COVID spread, among other illnesses, with over 640,000 cases being directly linked to prison exposure, according to the COVID prison project.

We know that number is rampantly under-estimated because prisoners, especially trans ones, are frequently denied medical care. And even basic, essential physical care. Just last year a 27-year-old Black man named Lason Butler was found dead in his cell, having perished of dehydration. He had been kept in a cell without running water for two weeks, where he rapidly lost 40 pounds before perishing. His body was covered in rat bites.

This kind of treatment is unacceptable for anyone, no matter who they are and what they have done, and I shouldn't have to explicitly connect the dots for you, but I will. One in six transgender people has been to prison, according to Lambda Legal. One in every TWO Black transgender people has been to prison. One in five Black men go to prison in America.

THIS is the fate you are consigning all these people to when you say that prisons must exist because there are really really bad people out in the world. We should all know by not that this is not how the carceral justice system works. Hate crime laws are under-utilized, according to Pro Publica, and result in few convictions. The people who commit transphobic acts of violence tend to be given softer sentences than the prisoners who resemble their victims.

We must always remember that the violent tools of the prison system will be used not against the people that we personally consider to be the most "deserving" of punishment, but rather against whomever the state considers to be its enemy or to be a disposable person.

You are not in control of the prison system and you cannot ensure it will be benevolent. You are not the police, the judge, the jury, or the corrections officers. By and large, the people who are in these roles are racist, transphobic, ableist, and victim-blaming, and they will use the power and violence of the system to terrorize people in poverty, Black people, trans people, "mad" people, intellectually disabled people, women, and everyone else that you might wish to protect from harm with a system of "punishment." Nevermind that incaraceration doesn't prevent future harm anyway.

You can't argue for incarceration as the tool of your revenge fantasies, you have to argue for it as the tool that it actually is. The purpose of a system is what it does. And the prison system's purpose has never been to protect or avenge vulnerable trans people. It has always been to beat them, sexually assault them, forcibly detransition them, render them unemployable, disconnect them from all community, neglect them, and unperson them.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Is it possible, if you’re comfortable with it, to request a reader with a service dog where some fans kinda mean about her needing it and her boyfriend stands up for her and offers some much needed comfort? For Max or whoever you feel like doing it for?

Bailey the dog||Max verstappen x fem!autistic!reader

Summary — after some negative comments about Max’s girlfriend and her service dog max puts his foot and put an end to it.

Word count-1027

Being with Max Verstappen was a dream, but it came with its challenges. The Formula One world champion lived his life under a microscope, and by extension, so did you. Dating him had brought you joy beyond measure, but it also opened you up to the scrutiny of millions of fans, most of whom didn’t know you beyond the curated snapshots of your life they saw online.

You tried not to let it bother you—most of the time, you could shrug off the judgmental comments and cruel assumptions. But sometimes, the weight of it all became too much.

Bailey, your golden retriever and service dog, had been with you for years. She was more than just a dog; she was your lifeline. Whether it was helping you manage your anxiety or providing physical assistance on tough days, Bailey was always by your side. Max had accepted her instantly, treating her like family from the very beginning.

But not everyone was so kind.The latest storm of negativity had started after you attended a recent Formula 1 event with Max. The cameras had captured you and Bailey by his side as you walked through the paddock together, and while most fans were supportive, a loud minority had taken it upon themselves to criticize you.

“She’s so desperate for attention. Why bring that dog everywhere?”

“She looks fine to me. What does she even need a service dog for?”

“Max could do so much better. She’s embarrassing him.”

The comments spiraled from there, turning into an avalanche of baseless accusations and unwarranted cruelty. You’d tried to avoid reading them, but curiosity—or maybe a self-destructive streak—got the better of you. By the time you closed your phone, the words felt like they were etched into your skin, impossible to forget.

You spent the rest of the day on the couch, Bailey’s head resting on your lap as if she could sense your distress. You stroked her soft fur absentmindedly, the repetitive motion soothing your frayed nerves.

When Max came home from the gym, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

“Hey, liefje,” he greeted, dropping his gym bag by the door. His usual smile faltered when he saw the look on your face. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a weak smile. “Just tired.”

Max’s brows furrowed, and he crossed the room in a few quick strides. Sitting down beside you, he gently tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t pretend. Talk to me.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you hesitated. You didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, but Max’s concerned gaze broke down your walls.

“It’s the fans,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “They’re saying horrible things about me. About Bailey. They think I’m using her for attention or that I don’t really need her. And they’re saying I’m embarrassing you.”

Max’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he listened. “Who’s saying that?”

“Just… people online,” you said, shrugging weakly. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but…”

“It’s not stupid,” Max said firmly. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you broke down against his chest. His hand stroked your hair, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “It’s not stupid at all. People don’t understand, and instead of trying to, they judge. It’s cruel, and it’s wrong. But you are not embarrassing me. Not ever.”

His words were a balm to your wounded heart, but the pain lingered. “I just wish they’d stop,” you whispered.

“They will,” Max said, his tone carrying a determination that made you pull back to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to say something,” he replied, grabbing his phone.

“Max, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, his blue eyes blazing with conviction. “I’m not going to sit by and let people talk about you like that. You’re my girlfriend. You’re the strongest person I know, and Bailey is amazing. They need to know that.”

Before you could protest, Max opened Instagram and began typing. You watched as his fingers flew across the screen, his expression resolute.

A few minutes later, he showed you the post.

The photo was one of you and Bailey at the paddock, smiling at each other while Max stood beside you, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The caption read:

“This is Y/n and her service dog, Bailey. Bailey isn’t just a dog; she’s a trained professional who helps my girlfriend manage things you don’t see. If you think you have the right to judge her for needing Bailey, think again. Kindness is free. Maybe try using it. And to the majority of you who support us—thank you. Your love doesn’t go unnoticed.”

He hit “Post” before you could say anything, setting his phone aside and pulling you back into his arms.

“Max, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, I did,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you. And no one has the right to make you feel like you’re anything less than incredible.”

The post went viral within hours. Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, sharing their own experiences with service dogs and calling out the cruelty of the original comments. Some even apologized, admitting they hadn’t understood before.

As you scrolled through the responses later that evening, tears filled your eyes again—this time from gratitude.

“You didn’t just stand up for me,” you said, looking at Max. “You stood up for everyone who’s ever needed someone like Bailey. Thank you.”

Max smiled, pulling you closer. “You deserve the world, liefje. And I’ll do everything I can to give it to you.”

Bailey barked softly, wagging her tail as if to agree. Max chuckled, ruffling her fur. “Looks like Bailey’s on my side.”

“She always is,” you said with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days.

With Max’s arms around you and Bailey by your side, you felt stronger than ever. No amount of negativity could take that away

[loviestar58]

Sassy Viktor dating HC’s AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

(I need to see how sassy he would be in everyday life pls he’s so entertaining)

🤲

Thank you sm have a lovely day :D

🧡~Dating Sassy Viktor HC's/Scenarios~🧡

My first ever request! I hope it's good I'm not gonna lie I had some difficulty with this idk why shdudbdh

This'll be a mix of Viktor being sassy, sarcastic, teasing, and just being a general playful menace lol

Enjoy‼️💖

🩼~Feins offense at any little thing you do. We've all seen his face, he can make the most offended face imaginable. For example he'd make you something to eat (he can't really cook well and doesn't do it often but he does for you cause he loves you) and he'd serve it to you all smiles, and you'd be all smiles too. Viktor cooking? What a rare treat! Until you bite into it and feel your tongue yell at you "oooo this isn't right..". You try to hide it, chewing slowly, but he sees it immediately, asking if something is wrong.

"Oh it's nothing, just..interesting. The flavor doesn't feel right, I think you put too much salt and herbs-"

His face would scrunch into that offended look, eyes wide and rolling his eyes

"Oh, so you're a food critic now? Judging the food I put my heart and soul into to make for you? I see how it is.."

He'd pout and take his own bite, thinking you were overreacting

You weren't

🩼~It is a common occurrence to whack you with his cane. Usually he does it to get his way in petty arguments, you could be talking about how a certain formula was written wrong in his notes, him being so tired he didn't notice and miscalculated something, but he'd never admit to it. Anytime you tried to show him, he'd lift his cane to your shins and try to grab the book back. You'd recoil and try to dodge each time, laughing at how far he'd go to stay in the right, but he somehow always caught you off guard, and of course he'd never miss a chance to diss you, even if he was completely in the wrong

"You're just mad you're wrong!"

"I'm not wrong, lovely, you just lack the vision to see my genius"

"Well, "Genius", you wrote it wrong!"

"Perhaps you do need your eyes checked.."

🩼~This is Jinx's line in the show, but he totally would pull this classic

"So, Viktor, I've been thinking-"

"Well, thats quite the dangerous endeavor for you"

🩼~Would never let you live it down that you fumbled your attempt at asking him out, having gotten so nervous cause I mean. Look at him. You'd try to tell the story to some friends and make it seem like you were so confident and successful in asking him out, but he'd SO quickly chime in and rat you out

"Wh-"

🩼~Also would probably overuse the line "Suureee lovely, whatever you say" in the most sarcastic tone ever whenever you two have little back and forth banters and you're determined to prove you're right. When you'd call him out on it he'd respond with a knowing smirk and offended face "What? I would never! I do not know what you are talking about!" Hand on his chest, practically clutching his non-existant pearls in a dramatically comedic way

"Hmm that's not quite how I remember it. I remember you shaking like one of those ehh..chihuahuas, that pee all over themselves. And your words sounded more like squeaks of a mouse. I don't know where you got the notion that that is the epitome of confidence, but it must not have been a reliable source"

You'd hit his shoulder blushing profusely as he laughs, saying a playful "I love you" before ruffling your hair, making you role your eyes and pout

🩼~Attempting to get a pet is impossible with Viktor. He'd always say that they both don't have time to take care of an animal, that his work was too dangerous to have one around, no matter how much your beg, he'd just shit you down. That's when he says that he already has you, and that's enough work on its own alongside his inventing

"Are you implying that I'm like a pet?"

"You seem to love jumping to conclusions cause I said no such thing, but if you insist on seeing it that way, then yes. You're like a little rampaging Poro. Energetic, small, and a thorn in my side on occasion"

He'd chuckle as he watched you feign offense, your face pouty but unable to keep the smile from your lips, cause it is kinda funny how you can be compared to such a creature so easily. And you do the same, comparing him to a sassy cat. Which he doesn't deny and swiftly confirms by swatting at you with his cane in retaliation for the comment

I am so sorry this is short, I genuinely couldn't think of too much cause I felt I was just repeating the same things over and over again and not being creative..and I think I made him more teasing than sassy, but I tried😭

I hope this is what you were hoping for, even a little! If not, I'm sorry😖🙏🏼

[booliuu]

Can we get your Homicidal Liu HCs? Your BP ones were amazing!! :D

♱ Homicidal Liu Headcanons .ᐟ.ᐟ ⟢˚﹒

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : ANSJSJSB IM SO GLAD YOU LOVE IT !!!! and ofc! 💚💚 i hope this is what your looking for anon ^^ im sorry it’s so long! the urge of yapping about liu has been so strong these days lol.

my inbox is open for asks & requests!! if you like my content don’t forget to like , comment , & reblog❤️. enjoy reading!

latest hc’s i finished are : ej’s & bloody painter . you should check it as well!

pictures are from pinterest 🍀.

🍁. . . His full name is Liu Woods. also known as homicidal liu. creeps call him homicidal just to taunt him . absolutely hates the name. heavily likes to be referred to as Liu.

🍁. . . Height : he’s the eldest sibling so he’s pretty dang tall. I’d say 6’0 or 6’5.

🍁. . . siblings: Jeffery Woods.

🍁. . . His birthday: 12/21. December 21st . ( he’s in his late 20’s ) him and jeff are about 2-3 years apart.

🍁. . . he/him.

🍁. . . bisexual.

🍁. . . he’s a Sagittarius ♐️ .

🍁. . . he’s American. born and raised in america 🇺🇸 . same with his younger brother.

🍁. . . he’s white. has spanish roots from both parents . same with his little bro . likely there ancestors are from Spain or Venezuela .

🍁. . . His favorite color is fall colors. such as orange, red , yellow . but also loves different shades of green c:

🍁. . . his main catchphrase: “ I forgave my brother for trying to kill me. I understand the urges he gets, I’ve fallen for the same ones time and time again in the past, so who am I to really judge him, anyway…”

🍁. . . i would describe his built to be that he’s so freaking tall. ( nothing compared to ej , laughing jack or slender though..) most of the time creeps have to look up while talking to him. his posture is good its just..chronic back pains TvT.

🍁. . . some may think he’s skinny and sick looking but under all the thick clothes he’s wearing all day he’s actually pretty lean. he has a bit of muscles in him. healthy and tone! tries to take care of himself as best as he can. ^_^

🍁. . . i say “sick looking” because generally speaking he’s very pale. his eye bags are bad. it’s makes ppl worry if he’s taking care of himself or not lol…. i’m not even going to sugar coat it. tired 24/7. relying on caffeine almost daily.

🍁. . . his eyes are prone to be red looking because he’s with the creeps that has pretty bad insomnia.

🍁. . . has BEAUTIFUL gorgeous olive green eyes. there so so.. pretty . honestly they almost look like emeralds ( okok it’s not that shiny.. but yk what i mean lol) . his hair is reddish brown .. it’s so soft and well taken care of . and by that, he cuts it often because he has bangs and he hates it when he can’t see. very handsome boy!

🍁. . . has ear piercings. stretched lobes. and the rest of his lobes done. too scared to get anything done above that.

🍁. . . he’s really really self conscious about the scars and stitches that practically littered all of over his face and body but honestly if your asking me that’s what makes him unique.

🍁. . . Liu’s the most normal wait no.. actually he’s the closest you’ll get to normal person. he’s living with a bunch of serial k*llers , he’s able to some how keep himself sane with all the bullshit he see’s and deal with every day in the mansion . ( and by that it’s dealing with his younger brother…)

literally a complete 360 of his brother tbhhh. ☠️

🍁. . . personality wise he’s quiet, well mannered , and uses big words when he talks. (i would describe his voice to be soft spoken and polite , he speaks in a velvety , smooth , and gentle tone. )

🍁. . . furthermore, he’s protective, caring, and overall he’s part of the small percentage of creeps that is friendly and respectful to new comers and residents of the mansion . older brother vibes yk? lots of creeps are fond of him because he has this warm and safe front to him .

🍁. . . he may be calm and collected. but that doesn’t mean he could see you right through your bullshit. he can read someone wants to do mischief to him easily . is capable putting you in your place or will let sully front .

🍁. . . downside to him being , he’s very paranoid. everyone around him. especially around jeff. he knows jeff is his brother and should leave the past behind. but how can he. when jeff is around , he can’t help but be super cautious and up guard around him. somewhat turns back into his 13 y.o self when the ..incident… happened.

🍁. . . under that calm face of his.. he’s fucking terrified what his brother is going to do next. his head spirals around if jeff will attack him again. can’t help but keep his mend hand on his g*n that’s underneath his trench coat because he.. so scared.

🍁. . . can’t be the same room with jeff. he’s immediately in flight or fight mode. he leaves the room immediately. his presence makes him so uncomfortable and feels like he’s suffocating around him.

🍁. . . huge dependency issues. secretly wants or desires to be with someone (doesn’t matter if it’s platonic or romantic) that he can trust , or just honestly wants anyone that will give him the feeling of safety and comfort again. will do drop anything for that to happen. yet the person he trusted the most tried to m*rder him.. developed awful trust issues after what happened with jeff.

🍁. . . Liu’s been dealing with a lot mental package half his life. grieves so much about his parents death. visit his parents grave from time to time. gives them flowers and remembers the memories they had together.

🍁. . . it’s not only D.I.D that liu suffers with but i believe he also has bipolar disorder and ptsd.

🍁. . . typically wears his thick black trench coat, that black and white scarf ( that he never washes ..😔 * sighs* oh liu… ) , under that he wears a black shirt. as well as black pants and combat boots. all though from time to time he wears dark academia clothing.

🍁. . . smells like cigarettes, the woods , or baked goods .

🍁. . . loves coffee. loves tea . biggg caffeine lover actually dependents on it to stay up for the day .

🍁. . . smokes whenever he’s needs too. honestly after the shit he’s been.. yeah i don’t blame him.

🍁. . . hangs out freely in public. literally the government knows that he’s dead because he has a grave and stuff but that doesn’t stop him from visiting small local libraries or towns.

🍁. . . goes to church pretty often but not to just pray . holding a broken rosary in his hand , and just sits seats there.. just thinking and …. thinking majority of the time . pure silence alone with thoughts.

🍁. . . thinks about the past quite a lot and especially if he saw or comes across something from him and jeff’s childhood, immediate waves of nostalgia washes over him . sadden of the fact things can’t be how they used to be .

🍁. . . he’s probably really good at baking. not cooking though. just baking . like will make someone a really good sour bread , muffins , or just give leftovers he couldn’t finish to creeps to closes with.

Now let’s talk about sully. . .

♦️. . . we all know liu suffers with D.I.D ( Dissosiative Identity Disorder) which means a person has two or more distinct identities that control their behavior at different times. And in this case it’s sully.

♦️. . . his alter mainly consists of being only sully i believe ( i think there’s one more but idk if that’s canon or not …) . now sully didn’t develop when he was born. actually developed with jeff attack him that night. and has been with him ever since then.

♦️. . . sully communicates with liu in his mental headspace if that makes sense. particularly sully will talk out loud to liu in his head.

♦️. . . if sully fronts then he talk to liu as if he’s standing right front of him. but if liu is fronting then he’s much better at keeping sully comments to himself. but will talk to each when left alone though.

♦️. . . liu doesn’t kill but he’s capable of doing it (more info about that later …) . most of the time its sully who does most of the m*rder. after the crime scene is finished and liu fronts again , feels extreme guilt of that the person who is now dead.

♦️. . . after jeff’s attack, he was in the hospital for a while and that how he came into terms with sully.

♦️. . . sully is very different compared to liu. mentally , and metaphorically speaking.

♦️. . . when sully fronts, his eyes changes from liu’s greens ones to reddish pink. his eyes could be read as frantic and almost angry looking. sully voice is more throaty and low. he’s more cocky , loud , impatient , rude and fussy. he’s prone to curse like sailor no matter the situation.

♦️. . . sully in the other hand , is the least dependent on people . he prefers gets things done by himself . not willing to trust others because he believes they will betray him in a matter of days. normally he’s comes out as aggressive to scare ppl away.

♦️. . . sully doesn’t kill people willy nilly. will front when he has strong urge too. especially when liu’s in danger because he wants protect him. or he decides liu is being “too soft” for his liking then fronts to tells him “ this is how a real man should do or act” ..

♦️. . . almost like a protective guard alter you could say …

‼️ approaching heavier topics … mostly talking about his past . ( tw m*rder and g*re ) .

🍁. . . liu was really protective of jeff growing up and till to this day blame himself how jeff came to be. when he’s bed sometimes he cries to himself and tells himself that failed being a big brother…

🍁. . . when they were little , he tried tend off the bullies before they pulled out knifes and jeff needed to go to the hospital immediate medical care. he spoke up about jeff’s face not looking to bad when he woke up from surgery and after that the family went quiet for a while .

🍁. . . was jeff’s only “ friend “ when they all moved to the new neighborhood.

🍁. . . one night in particular, after jeff gutted there parents. he snuck into liu’s room and attempted to give the same faith of there parents. liu fight back and chocked his brother with now a broken rosary. still has the rosary till this day.

🍁. . . jeff being stronger than liu, he gave liu pretty severe injuries. when jeff thought liu “died” he abandoned him and his whereabouts are unknown after that . likely slender found him and decided to take him in…

🍁. . . one of there neighbors heard screaming coming from there home. went the wood’s house to investigate. come to find liu bleeding out on the floor with severe injuries, horrified what they saw they called the ambulance .

🍁. . . liu almost died at the hospital but he some how pulled through with numerous surgeries done to him. it’s miracle he survived .

🍁. . . a nurse that was taking care of him called his brother a monster and that’s when he snapped and ended her life by pushing her off the hospital’s window . yk how i said he k*lled before , that was liu’s first victim.

🍁. . . after that event and realized what he’ve done in a pit of rage , not wanting to face consequences he ran away from the hospital and made his way to his families house and got a few things he needed .

🍁. . . attempted to burn the house and the rest of the belongings. he left the building, noticing the blood on his hands he didn’t turn back and his whereabouts were unknown. you can guess who took him .

🍁. . . after the events that occurred, liu still cares deeply about his younger brother and forgave him in the end because he’s experienced first hand the will to kill.

🍁. . . Liu's killings may also be influenced by Sully, a sociopath/psychopathic personality alter he developed after the night Jeff tried to kill him to cope with the traumatic events.

🍁. . . when slander made him his proxy perhaps out of pity.. he now lives in the mansion . jeff couldn’t believe it. thinks liu’s is just an illusion or just slender taunting him . nevertheless refuses to be close to liu thinking he’s not real. after a long time, reality sets in and realizes liu’s is in fact is here with him .

🍁. . . all jeff could think about is liu suppose to dead because after what he’s done to him, he shouldn’t survive. he has grave for god’s sake.

🍁. . . numerous times liu has tried to connect with his brother just like the good old times . Whether it's passing by him trying to start a decent conversation or when he's partnered with him on missions,tries teaming up with jeff to end the job faster.

🍁. . . there’s a parts of him is thinking, the younger brother he knows is still there and they can come back where things used to be but there’s a bigger part of him knowing jeff’s to far gone and hates him.

🍁. . . jeff being jeff shuts down by either completely ignoring him, mumbling something under his breath and shoving him to a wall abruptly . or being rudely abrasive. will start getting a little physical and blood is sometimes involved. quick trips to ej’s is greatly needed ...

🍁. . . still him and jeff still have a really strained relationship. if they have missions together long story short, they both will only get the job done without much communication. other than that they ignore each other.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅✧⋄⋆⋅

🍁. . . i have a feeling jeff is really jealous by liu growing up but won’t admit it of course. i mean his brother has perfect grades, had friends , knew his parents preferred liu over him. ( liu has tried telling jeff that they love him but jeff wouldn’t budge. can read his parents actions pretty well and it’s obvious what sibling they favor the most.) it started with small grudges then quickly developed into deep seated resentment.

🍁. . . i saw this post the other day and IT REALLYYY speaks to me how much this represents there dynamic. there literally estranged siblings guys . there relationship is so broken down and as a resulted they don’t not communicating or avoiding each other.

🍁. . . once in a blue moon though, jeff will give a liu a hug. it shocks liu so much. he questions if this is really jeff or he’s pulling something again to get under his skin. jeff very faintly mumbles a apology. then in a second starts acting it never happened.

🍁. . . creeps can tell who’s the older and younger sibling at a first glance lol. like yes, physically it shows but there personalities are so different is really hard to ignore .

🍁. . . he’s LOVVVES writing poetry. if your his friend or there’s a creep that he considers to be a friend he will leave out little post it notes around their room to find.

🍁. . . he’s has many acquaintances of the residence living in the mansion. doesn’t believe in making rivalry or tense bonds. i’d say he’s close friends with helen ( okok hear me out but they had a little situationship b4 in the past but they end it in good terms and there good friends… helen can’t get over him lolololll, a bit obsessed i dare say) ej , nina , and kagekao .

🍁. . . younger creeps consider liu as a older brother figure. when he found out about that he made it his duty to give them best old brother experience he can provide .

🍁. . . his favorite seasons have to be fall and winter because those were the times where life was simple and fun. loves it when it rains, takes out his piles of books and reads while sitting on his bed . with his choice of beverage ofc.

🍁. . . gets really jealous almost envy whenever he’s out in public and see families getting along. the the whole day it sours his mood and the memories starts to flood back.

🍁. . . walks around the forest quite often ( especially after it rains, he likes the smell of rain so much for some reason..) and meets different strays along the way and pets all of them.

🍁. . . another creep that’s loves cats!! his favorites have to be rag doll’s , maine coon’s , siamese and balinese.

🍁. . . strikes me the type where he remembers bits of pieces of his close friends telling him stuff . he has shit memories but he’ll remember almost everything about them. like there coffee order, favorite book, list goes on . . .

🍁. . . hole in the wall cafes + liu. it’s a dream come true honestly . he quite literally visits this one cafe that he know the route by heart , and orders the same thing. it’s london fog and a slice of pound cake :3. the owner’s first language isn’t english but calls liu love all the time because liu reminds them of there son. makes liu tear up inside.

🍁. . . even though he literally in his late twenties, he gets really attached to much more older flocks that looks his parents .

🍁. . . when they call him nicknames out of acts of endearment and treat him as if it’s there own son it’s makes him mushy because he lost his parent pretty young and now there’s a hole in his heart that needs parental support and love in a way.

🍁. . . keeps photos of his family. and not to mention toys and other nik naks that him and jeff used to play with together hidden in a little compartment in his room.

🍁. . . liu’s a mama’s boy change my mind y’all. ever since he was little he always sticks with his mother all the time before .

🍁. . . both sully and liu have terrible sleeping habits. it’s save to assume they suffer with insomnia. liu especially because after the incident he has night terrors that wakes him from a cold sweat .

🍁. . . vaguely remembers jeff often comforted him after night terrors when they were younger. He has fond memories of heating warm milk together and watching t.v late at night, curled up on the living room couch.

🍁. . .things can’t turn back the way it used to be . liu can’t sleep keep due to constant late night disturbances so he make himself a cup of tea for the night. he misses so much of jeff’s care for him because it actually helped him sleep. sometimes rewatches the cartoons him and jeff used to watch together .

🍁. . . he loves reading. he owns like two BIG book cases that’s placed furtherest corners of his room filled hundreds of books. and in the middle of them owns a desk, a office chair , and a lamp. that’s where he actually writes poetry on.

🍁. . . close friends with helen and often volunteer’s being helen’s muse for the day if no one want too . while helen paints him , they have nice convo about anything.

🍁. . . he’s super good listener hands down. will listen to you vent about anything. doesn’t matter how stupid the topic is, he’s there for you. if your upset and starting to tear up he get you a tissue and help you clean up your tears. makes you a cup of whatever you want as well. won’t judge you at all.

🍁. . . has multiple accounts on the phones… he sully “collected” and has many playlist that listens to daily while hanging out on his bed. he’s giving bôa , cults , TV girl , the cardigans , strawberry guy and mac demarco . definitely not from my playlist…🤫

🍁. . . some of the residents living in the mansion are children and they love hanging out with liu . makes me him either play pretend tea parties , drawing and dragging helen when they want art lessons , watching a movie. they just love liu so much.

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜: @/bloodibambiidoll & @/omi-resources.

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : another underrated pasta i love dearly!!! he’s literally my roman empire and helen too lol 😖. same with the woods brothers i talk about them for ages. i hope you enjoy my hc’s anon! thx for the ask and checking out my blog too.

next hc’s will be the rest of the marble hornets crew, keep an eye out!

if you like my content please don’t forget to like , reblog , and comment ^^.

liuuboo2025 ♡ﾟ

[starcurtain]

Hello! Wanted to say that I’ve really enjoyed your analysis on Aventurine’s theming - and yea big agree that part of the charm of the guy is that he’s a weird paradox (he got everything one should technically want, and he also lost absolutely everything he cares about) - and also I like your comment that he is, as a character, actually pretty obnoxious (it’s an odd character charm point to me)

Also your post on the way he interacts with the ladies in the cast kinda reminded me - I know folks tend to focus in Ratio’s note but I ended up zoning in on his convo with Acheron more than anything else - because a lot of Penacony is Aven butting heads with other aeon-touched people (Acheron, Sunday) - but Acheron seems like a fun foil because she also has a pretty double-edged metaphysical blessing that is associated with losing everything she loved, but she ironically hasn’t given in to full meaninglessness.

I think one of Aventurine's defining character traits is that he "tests" everyone he encounters to judge whether they are trustworthy or whether they are a danger to him (I guarantee you, he has some kind of mental ranking scale for how likely people are to dislike or mistreat him), and I think his being obnoxious is actually a direct offshoot of this.

Kakavasha clearly was raised with manners; he knows how to be polite and to tone down his responses to social situations as appropriate, which means that, in every other scenario, he is actively choosing to be obnoxious, even in situations where it seemingly won't benefit him (like talking back to the slave master or being too forward when first meeting Sunday, for example) because it allows him to gauge exactly how others feel about him and exactly how much they will let him get away with.

People who play along are potential allies (Robin, the Trailblazer) and people who act grumpy but actually tolerate the obnoxiousness are safe (Ratio, Sparkle, most of the rest of the Express Crew), while people who respond poorly (Sunday, basically everyone else Aventurine dealt with in the past, etc.) are forced into showing their true colors. If minor obnoxious behaviors can provoke them, then it means their core response to Aventurine is likely to be one of dislike and disrespect. He's just forcing that response from them out into the light sooner, rather than later, by being obnoxious from the get-go.

(And, to a certain extent, I think he also just finds it fun to be a bit obnoxious. Like, he's free to say and do whatever he wants now--who is going to stop him from being a brat if that's what he feels like doing?)

But on to Acheron... Yes, I do think there are a lot of parallels between Acheron and Aventurine (came from a doomed people, lost everyone, both determined to hold out against nihility and live just for the sake of living, "blessed" by aeons), but I think narratively speaking, the story puts Acheron in a different position when her tale entangles with Aventurine's: the surrogate big sister role.

Acheron's a very good parallel to Aventurine's sister in numerous ways: First, she essentially sacrificed herself to defeat the evil threatening her people, but is ultimately unsuccessful, resulting in the permanent loss of all she knew.

This loss also resulted in Aventurine's sister actually dying, while Raiden Mei experienced a symbolic death, taking on the name "Acheron" to evoke the Underworld, getting a ghostly, bleached white form, and prowling the river of nihility like a wandering spirit of the dead.

Second, the philosophy Acheron espouses is nearly identical to Aventurine's sister. When even as a child Kakavasha was doubting the value and meaning of life, his sister was the one constantly reaffirming that life has meaning, despite its hardships, and that continuing to exist is the way to honor those who have sacrificed for you. Just as Aventurine's sister expresses that people must hold on to faith, Acheron reminds everyone she encounters to cling to the last bit of color and light in their lives.

This ends up being echoed by the role of guidance that she plays for Aventurine, with him both directly relying on her for his continued survival:

And turning to her in his moment of greatest emotional need:

(Sound familiar? It should. This is the exact same question Kakavasha once asked his sister.)

But there's also a very, very nice visual parallel that goes on with Acheron and Aventurine's sister: the dusk rain that accompanies her.

For Aventurine, the rain has complicated emotional connotations. For the Avgin, it was desperately needed, life-giving water, and thus was considered a direct blessing from Gaiathra. Rain on Aventurine's birthday was the sign of his being favored by the aeon, and yet it also rained on the day he lost everything and had to flee from the only home he had ever known (conveniently also his birthday, dude this guy's life sucks).

Meanwhile, the rain for Acheron is equally complex--rain can bring life, the renewal of barren, lifeless lands... But we also see the rain accompany Acheron through her worst loss, the final collapse of her planet:

It also is said to rain constantly within the shadow of nihility, a lightless gray that washes away all that people wish to cling to.

For both Acheron and Aventurine's sister, the rain accompanies the end of their "lives," the backdrop to their ultimate sacrifices.

Yet it is also in the rain that they both send Aventurine onward, escaping from the cage of his destiny into a "better" life. From beneath the shadow of the storm, they both bid him to go and not turn back, freeing him and permanently changing the course of his life.

The rain that took everything from both Aventurine's sister and Acheron is ultimately what saves him.

It's all a very tidy and well-written parallel.

[noemilivv]

hey! i love your stuff and think its pretty cool

just wondering if i could get a lucifer fic where the reader is like, adams sister? (lets ignore the lore for a sec) and shes like him but toned down a tad and less straight up bad. and they kinda date in heaven a bit before he falls and then shes sad and ends up falling aswell eventually and he gets all blushy flustered when he sees her again in charlies hotel and charlies just really confused

also maybe a quick flash to him mocking adam abt how he not only stole both his wives but also his sister

sorry if this is written badly i never send requests :>

this is actually rlly cute wtf

anyway, yes ofc i can write it for you, here you go!!

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sexual References (No Smut)

“Mr. Took-Yo-Sis!”

Lucifer x Adam’s Sister!Reader

Lucifer had his fair share of significant others in his life, but there was only one that he truly loved, Y/N.

They had a relationship during his time in Heaven, which was eventually cut short as he fell not long after.

Y/N’s brother, Adam, didn’t like Lucifer, in the slightest. Lucifer had been with two of Adam’s wives, and he was not happy about that.

Unbeknownst to Lucifer, his beloved, had fallen not long after he did. But that was about to change.

Charlie, your first friend in Hell, was getting her rehabilitation hotel set up for her fathers arrival, various decor was hung, and (burnt) cookies were baked.

Charlie stood next to the door before taking a deep breath, “Okay everyone.” She said, getting ready to open the door, “It’s showtime!”

“Charlie!” A man’s voice says, you couldn’t see him, but his voice rings a bell.

“Hey da-” The blonde man runs up to his daughter, and squeezes her tightly, you finally got a good look at his face and… holy shit, it’s Lucifer.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” He exclaimed in a babyish tone, yep, Lucifer. “It’s uh, good to see you too, dad!”

Luci let’s go of his daughter after a moment, Charlie steps to the side, presenting to her father “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” She says, as confetti pops out of two of Pentious’ non working canons.

“Wait…” Lucifer murmurs, before his eyes widen.

“Y/N?!”

You grin, ‘Fuck yes, he remembers me!’ You think to yourself.

“Hi again, Luci.” You say, a wide smile present on your face, as you approach him.

You both smile at eachother, before some incoherent, awkward mumbles are exchanged, ‘Shit, I did not think this through.’ You thought. Then both just settle on giving eachother an awkward but friendly hug.

“Uh… Dad?” Charlie said, focusing both of your attentions to her, “You know eachother?”

“Oh, me and dear Y/N here go way back, we used to fling around if ya know what I mean!” Luci said, pointing finger guns at his daughter awkwardly, as she gave an awkward yet also disturbed smile, as your face flushes a bright red.

Vaggie steps forward. “Wait. Y/N? Like the Adam’s sister Y/N?” She asks, eyeing you in shock, “Heh. Yeah. A lot has happened since I fell.” You say bashfully.

Everyone kinda stares for a moment, sort of in shock, they had no idea you had a relationship, let alone you fell from Heaven, let alone you were Adam’s sister.

“So uh…” Lucifer starts awkwardly. “Who’s up for pancakes?”

Bonus Scene -

“So this is what you’ve been up to since Eden? Gotta say, you’ve let yourself go.” Lucifer jokes, as Adam attempted to toss him around. “You judging me? You’re the most hated being in all of creation!” Adam says, flying after him.

“Well you’re first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer her.” He said, putting a ‘V’ to his lips with his fingers. “Or the second.” He spoke, continuing to fly. “Or Hell, even your sister!” He said laughing, thrusting his hips back and forth, referring to what they’ve done in bed. “Bicka-chow-cho!”

“I will fucking end you!” You heard your brother scream to your (ex)boyfriend.

[scentedpepper]

Guilty Pleasures

AEGON II TARGARYEN X SERVANT!GN READER

Part 2: The Cockcrow of Dalliance

Summary: Aegon II Targaryen seeks out his servant in the most desperately pathetic of times.

Content Warnings: Implicitly explicit sexual speech/themes, drunkeness, established relationships, complicated dynamics, may come off as reminiscent of non-con at some points(?) but was written without intent of such nature, friends (not really) with benefits (also not really), aegon ii targaryen, touch starved (reader and aegon)

Other Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x GN! Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Is this brainrot?

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

"Please, please. "

You're not sure what about this situation perturbes you more.

The situation itself, which contains that of a drunken Prince Aegon clinging onto your red tunic in the midst of a dimly lit corridor as you attempt to carry dirtied dishes over to the others in the kitchen, falling over himself and pleading.

Or the fact that there is, inexplicably, no one around to witness this outrageous display of drunkenness occurring before the very eyes of the prince's subjects—not even the knights you'd passed on your way here, it seems, as the hall leading to the kitchen is practically empty.

There's almost a feeling of being stranded out at sea, out in a thick, harsh, uncaring, overpowering fog as you find yourself drifting aimlessly to and fro in the absence of a guiding beacon, desperate to return home; a sense that those who came down these halls are surely gone, or somewhere else altogether, but the general, indescribable loneliness this leaves one with still persists in clinging onto your skin, and it isn't a pleasant feeling.

You don't want to know how or why you're being required to look at this god-awful display, yet here you are, with the Prince himself, grabbing you and holding you closely.

You can smell his breath.

The Prince Aemond had advised you many times to stay clear of his brothers line of sight when he was like this, stupid with drunkness. It was always the same warning he'd pass quietly to your ear, gesturing from across the throne room, as if you couldn't see the wine become of him yourself.

His breath is a putrid mix of fruity, sweetened wine and rotting meat, the stench alone just about ready to have you empty your stomach right into the corridor—you want to move him off, or away, or something, but in the near darkness, he simply holds onto your clothes and lays against you, pathetically.

As you fidget to find a way to escape his steel vise grip without causing him offense, he clamps a hand to the side of your face, firmly, not a slap but rather a moment of stillness. His gaze snaps up, meeting yours and flashing his glazy, violet eyes.

You slowly come out of your squint, out of your hunch. He has only taken a very short few seconds to simply gaze through the dark at you before making a wet snort noise. A cough follows it.

A repulsive sound.

He giggles then, almost, or moans? It could be an admittance of his intoxication, as he rests his weight into your side, but the way his hands are tightening into a fist in the fabric of your tunic isn't very encouraging.

"My Prince..." You start, but he forbid you from continuing.

"Please. " He says again, swaying, sniffing, slurring. One of his hands gently traces up the material of your sleeve. "Please, Y/N. "

It is not particularly surprising that he calls your name. Despite yourself, you have come to know both princes more than you would have wished yourself to when you first came here, from Dorne. But somehow, hearing the sound of your name fall from his lips in this particular tone isn't as familiar as you'd hoped.

Nonetheless, its an otherwise strangely sober utterance from his mouth, except for the mild stumble over each syllable, and an oddly solemn cadence. You'd think by now there was not a shred of lucidity left in him, judging from his actions and words prior, but there's a certain formality to it that rings all too clear in the hazy atmosphere.

"Please. " He says again, in your silence.

And you're really not even sure what he's pleading for, anymore.

At first, you'd assumed his call had been one akin to assistance; to carry his belongings–or rather him–to his chambers and pull the covers over him, like you always did. But this has transpired into something far more...unfamiliar. And you're not certain that it should even be a possible interaction between the two of you, even if he had become thoroughly entrenched in a state of drunken obliviousness.

And you are not eager to determine the sincerity of his pleas.

"My Prince, you are much too given away. You do not know what you ask of me..." You say, gripping his wrist away from your face and furthering yourself backward as to give him space. "And I do not know what you request so vehemently from me. "

He stumbles forward and you do your best, with the dishes shifting to one arm, to catch him. The food falls from atop the pile and bounces twice and rolls to your feet as the dishes and cutlery clatter to the ground. Displeased sounds pass your lips.

"You need not worry for the plates. " He slurs, unbothered by the loud crash nor the glass crunching under his feet.

It's an awkward position; his arm locked around your neck, pulled up toward him and stumbling as if to drag you along as well. He can hardly support his own weight yet is unwilling to free himself from this strange embrace.

"My Prince. " You utter in exasperation, your arm curled around his waist. In hopes that he will be steady enough to lean on his own feet, you try to let go. But his grip only tightens. "Allow me to help you to your chambers and I can see you go undisturbed. "

"I don't want to walk. " He sniffs, bringing his face closer to yours. With your hand still wrapped around the crook of his elbow, you lean back. It was a routine situation you've found yourself in, but certainly not a pretty image that anyone would hope to stumble across.

As you lean back, so does he and his dead weight pushes you harshly into the wall. "Y/N, please. " He breathes out dramatically.

Perhaps if you remain quiet, he will tire and slip away just as he did the last dozen times.

He tries to rest his cheek on your chest, eyes growing misty and drooping, but unable to find a comfortable perch because of his drunken inclination to muss and disrupt the space he occupied.

Frustrated, you tap him lightly and try to roll out from under his weight.

He doesn't budge.

"My Prince, you burden upon me too heavily with such unseemly behavior..." And there was more you wished to say, but the burning at your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose has stifled your speech.

"I couldn't care. Less. If I tried. " The Prince mutters.

He adjusts his arm around your neck, a drunken repositioning of limbs, and tugs your head closer to his. Your skulls mingle there in the dark, cold air in the most unspeakable manner.

There is no way, no chance in all the heavens above, that your actions have been even a grain of worthy. And despite the temptation you feel for motion against the foolish, insolent, ridden of capacity to think man before you, you know nothing will come of it other than pain to be regretted for the rest of time, probably.

"You must remove yourself from me, My Prince. So that we may return to our respectable places. And not disgrace each other's positions before the palace. "

"Fuck the palace. Fuck my place. " He spits, swaying and throwing his other arm around your neck, pulling himself even closer.

It clicks then, as his body pushes fully against you.

"If you're asking for me to give you relief, My Prince, then there's nothing I can do for you–"

"Y/N. Please. It's getting painful. Please. "

"Is your hand insufficient?"

You swear, if there were light, his skin color would match perfectly with your crimson tunic.

It is such an inappropriate, improper conversation that you would scarcely wish to have. Least of all here. Where anyone could walk by.

"It would...not be the first..." His voice is weak and quiet. You can hardly hear him. "The first time you..." He doesn’t finish, too consumed by his indulgences.

"My Prince. " You reply sharply, though you wished to say so much more. "Your hand is sufficient. This is unspeakable. I have never sought you in such treacherous ways. "

And though you could not see his face, could not read the thoughts that crawled through his foggy, drunk-muddled mind, you could hear his sighs of displeasure. As if he were the one suffering through all this nonsense.

You take his silence as a plea for your goodwill and pry his hands off your neck, leaving him against the wall of the hallway while you crouch to collect the discarded tray and its broken contents.

"If that is all, My Prince, then will you not go to your chambers now?"

He stares up at you in utter defeat. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and uncertain, a stark contrast to the iron-willed royal who had dismissed you without a second glance no less than three moons ago.

He has that look in the irises, those violet pearls, that you recall seeing a handful of times in the other nobles of House Targaryen. A fleeting moment, a window into something far greater and more complex than a single second could reveal. A deeper and darker emotion that stirs within you pity. You believe the color would be similar to what is felt when someone is terribly remorseful, regretting what they said or did in a time that is long past.

"Please do not start crying, My Prince. " You say and the vexation has not left your tone. "You'll have forgotten the conversation within the hour, a tear will do you no good. "

Your tone was harsh, unkind, not quite vicious. But it is curt and strong enough, from a mere servant no less, to strike like a whip to his spirit. He blinks once, and looks away, not a sound leaves his throat as he stiffens, and waits.

And then his lips pull up, he goes rigid, and he sniffs and wipes his nose with the cuff of his blue shirt. And finally, without another word, his eyes well up and the tears burst forth and run down his face like twin waterfalls.

"My Prince. " You whisper. But he's not listening to you. He's red in the face and sobbing uncontrollably. "Stop. Why are you-please stop. "

"I've known it. " He manages out, his voice thick with mucus. "You-dislike me so much. I apologize. " His body is like a loose feather floating in the air and you know that he is soon to make it to the ground if you do not intervene.

It pains you, somewhat, to watch him unravel. It's like observing a bird unable to find its wing. Or the crumbling of a home, a castle that has stood for lifetimes but not strong enough to bear the weight that has piled upon it.

But nevertheless, you are used to such outbursts. Such grand feelings of pity.

You set the tray accompained by shards of glass down on the floor and wipe your hands off with a sigh. Wordlessly you maneuver yourself to the prince's side, scooping him gently with your arms around him and drag him toward the exit.

He whimpers at being jostled, but you suspect it's from surprise rather than true hurt. He doesn't do anything else for a long few seconds until his legs finally unlock and he manages to fumble into a somewhat coherent position beside you.

He is still crying.

"My Prince-" You say, worried, slightly alarmed, as you've heard no noises yet from the people of the palace, but the walls beg to wake them. "Please, I implore you. It would not behoove the both of us if the servants saw you like this. "

He sniffles and sniffles and lets out another trembling sob as his pace lurches a little closer to a stagger rather than a stand. "You didn't even deny it. "

"Deny what, My Prince?"

"That you hate me. "

Your frown deepens.

"My Prince, why would you presume such a thing?"

"You are so cruel. Cold, even. "

"I beg your pardon, My Prince. "

"And I cannot get it out of my head. The idea that..." He trails off and hiccups. You gently guide him away from the banister of the walkway to the stairs, pushing him softly to continue his disheveled wander.

"Shhh, " you say, "keep going, My Prince. "

"Please...can we-please ta–talk. " He stutters out.

You contemplate for a moment as his fingers dig into your arms.

"Yes, My Prince. But your chambers are more befitting this conversation. "

He seems content enough with this, for now, to shut his trap and allow you to escort him down the long, twisting path. You can feel his heart pound through his ribs against your arm. It stirs a deep, familiar, and unnerving feeling in you.

"Almost there, My Prince. "

He mumbles something under his breath, too quickly and too choked-up, to understand. You focus more on the wet sniffle his nose emits afterwards than the actual words that have passed his quivering lips.

As you guide him further in the direction of his chambers, the distance between the both of you stretching even farther, his eyes dim, and his lips curl down, and he releases a long, audible sigh. But there's no tear that follows with it; his sobbing is under control once again, even if just barely.

Thankfully, the chambers aren't as far now, it should take only a few minutes, five at most, to make it there. When you eventually see his door come into view, he stops you abruptly.

You pause momentarily and look back, taking notice of his expression as a troubled frown plagues his normally semi-collected features, giving him a more somber and saggy aura. Something in your chest feels hollowed out as he glares down at the ground, his purple eyes looking incredibly sad.

"Why...Are you forcing me to go in there...? " He mumbles, slightly dazed.

"My Prince, the night is late and all those around have gone to sleep. I am sure you are fatigued by the wine, and that is why your thoughts have become so out of order. "

He allows himself to be dragged closer to the room. You make fleeting eye contact with the knowing knight posed stiffly at Aegons doors before you release him, moving to open the oak yourself.

As he stumbles in, mumbling still under his breath, you turn to walk away but the hand that suddenly comes to snatch at the sleeve of your tunic causes you to take pause.

You glance back towards him, trying to convey a question through your unwavering eyes, but his entire attention is drawn to the floor.

"I am only closing the door, My Prince. " You say simply as the wood slides closed behind you with a loud click.

Silence.

A long silence, followed by a quick gulp, and then, at last. "Don't leave. "

But his eyes are shut, his head cast to the side as he slumps forward, barely managing to stay on his feet, leaning heavily on you for support.

"I won't leave, then. " You say and pat his shoulder sympathetically.

Still silence. Another swallow. "Good. "

"Very well, My Prince. "

You begin pulling him toward the bed; he lets you, swaying and stumbling and rubbing his eyes with his fists. As you maneuver him down onto his comfortable sheets, he lets out a weak giggle.

His eyes flutter open, cheeks rosy red and wet. He blinks twice.

"Goodnight, My Prince, " you say softly.

He is frowning.

You wipe the stray tear tracks off his face, careful not to scratch the delicate, wet skin, before bringing your hand away.

He reaches out and catches the sides of your palm.

His skin is soft and warm and slightly damp. He smiles hesitantly. His eyes slowly come up to meet yours; they're glazed and watery with tears and a deep sense of vulnerability and uncertainty as his lips quiver ever so slightly.

"You hate me, don't you?"

Your eyes close briefly as you sigh. "My Prince, this conversation can wait until you awaken with a clear mind. "

"But you hate me, " he accuses. "How can I let it be...if you hate me?" He grits through his teeth.

You remove your fingers from his, stroking his jaw instead, comfortingly. "I could never hate you, My Prince. " You say it, but it is only pleasantries and both of you know that.

"Please answer me. Please...don't..." His cheeks are wet again, fresh new lines of salty tears streaking down his red face and dripping into his collar. Your thumb catches one, halting its miserable descent.

"I must protest, " you say smoothly. "You will awaken without any recollection, any trace, any hint that I existed. We will both forget this conversation, as so much of our time has been forgotten. And my feelings will return to nothing of note, My Prince. "

"Please don't. " He shakes his head and scrunches his face, pouting. His cheeks flare darker with his pathetic frustration. "You can't...Can't tell me these things and-"

He hiccups.

You lay the hand on his cheek, tenderly, letting his face lean into it.

"Can't it just be that?" You ask him in a whisper.

He's nodding fervently, his legs quivering a little, still in a woozy state of mind; the warmth is radiating off his pale, drunk skin in strong, overwhelming waves and you bask in it while you're able. He hums after a few seconds.

"Y/N, please come closer. Please. " He pleads, quietly, urgently, his entire being seeming almost distraught at the request.

It is so hard, and yet somehow so easy, to deny him the thing he wants the most right now.

"What, My Prince?"

He doesn't speak or move.

"Will you try to kiss me again?" You wonder.

At your words, his breath hitches and he parts his lips. Though, if the flicker of violet within his gaze reveals anything, it is more a case of an impelling reluctance. His eyes dart away, anywhere else in the chamber.

"Would you permit me a kiss?"

You do not answer, and his whole body stiffens, his hand slipping to encircle your wrist. The grip itself is too tight to be truly pleasant, an unhappy emotion he can't quite reign in completely.

You think, to yourself, that it would be no use to try to speak reason to him now, even if you wanted to. It would fall upon his wine-heavy ears and make little sense.

You wrap your free hand against his back, feeling the subtle movement of muscles and the bone of his spine. His hair is soft and frizzy and nearly glossy when the two of you reach an emotional equilibrium with one another. You hold onto him, breathing slowly in tune with him, savoring the rise and fall of his chest under your touch.

Your heart beats in perfect unison with his, echoing his every breath and shiver. He's a heavy weight on your leg where he has apparently found rest, your clothes rustling against his equally silken shirt.

His arm, heavy with sleep and wine, hangs at his side as you quietly push the sleeve of your tunic over his shoulder, pressing your mouth against his forehead.

In moments, the air is silent and there is no sound except the soft breathing of the two of you. You withdraw your lips and look at him with the same, unabashed expression you always carry when he begs like this.

"A kiss for bedtime, if you'd like one. I doubt any more will stir a useful reaction from you. " You comment, amused, as the back of his skull falls against his pillows.

"Please. One more. " He requests weakly, sloppily pulling himself up against your side to meet your daunting gaze. His grip on your wrist eases a bit but it doesn't let go, nor do his eyes and only do they close briefly for a small but content sigh.

"No, I don't think so. You are beyond exhausted and drunken. A proper rest will do you well. I am not your mother, I will not sing you a song and rub your belly. " You laugh at his pout. "Though, you'd probably like that, My Prince. "

"Perhaps, if it's from you. " He stutters out a second too late.

He pushes against your wrist, and it is such a smooth, deliberate movement that you are thoroughly thrown off guard. His eyes flutter half open, a sliver of dark purple and a dash of white. His sclera, despite their usual pinkness, shine somehow brighter in the cold moonlight.

"One more. " He says. "A goodnight kiss. You're not leaving after just this. "

And how could you deny him what he was asking for? He still looked so fragile. So torn, not apart but not together, either.

He was waiting expectantly for your next move.

You press forward and push your lips to his, very gently, sliding your arm free of his grasp so that you can hold his face. His nose is cool and blunt where it presses into your cheek.

And before you can taste the strange mixture of his drink and his supper on your tongue, he pulls back and swoons.

Just before his body collapses back onto the mattress, though, you manage to nudge him with both hands. He goes willingly, letting you rearrange him onto his bed, the beddings around him, and covering him with a blanket or two.

He hums softly, smacking his lips as he gets comfortable, eyes already shut.

"Please close the curtains before you leave, Y/N. I sleep...better in the dark." He sighs out the last few words, exhaling loudly, like a long, relieved breath he'd been holding in for years.

"You ought to rest now, before you sober up and get me whipped. "

"Do not fret. " He whispers. "For you will always have a place at my side. " He lets out a puff of amusement.

"I thought I was cruel. Cold. Not fond of you in the slightest. "

"You had a..mo..men...tary lapse of poor judgment. " He says with a bit of struggle but he gets it out, nonetheless.

"Mmm. Rest now, My Prince. Your whims will be satiated tomorrow. "

He reaches out, an arm trying to cross the expanse between the two of you. An invitation, but you've never taken it, never dare to lie beneath the silk sheets beside him.

You pull away.

He lets his arm drop.

"Aegon. " He mumbles out to you.

It stops you in your tracks. Your expression smoothes. "...What did you say?"

"Aegon. You haven't called me that...long time. " His murmur is barely a coherent sentence.

You stare at him for a moment, a light sigh of resignation escaping you.

"Goodnight, Aegon. "

He watches you stride across the carpet with barely open eyes.

"Goodnight. " His voice goes soft and sweet. The mirth in it is quiet but genuine.

A smile washes away the frown he wears most days, and his eyes snap shut as soon as his head falls completely to the mattress.

Like a light being extinguished.

He'll awake just fine.

As will you.

Your duty to the family awaits, as does his.

[neighbourhoodspidey]

test and recognise

a/n: horror girlies deserve peace. especially skye riley my girl was stressing give her a break 😭 i was inspired by edits of smile 2 and i saw one with “test and recognise” and wanted to write something about it (i have to find this edit again) i tried to stick to the plot but sort of altered it so it doesn't really stay true to the story? but since reader was involved i had to mix it up a bit. the ending is ambiguous. idk i wanted to try something new, maybe it should have stayed in the drafts. minors, ageless blogs dni please, drop feedback if you have any, enjoy reading let’s gooo

w/c: 2.3k words

warnings: allusions of self-neglect, issues differencing reality? basically, the whole plot of smile 2 but i didn’t do it much justice. proofread but i might have left mistakes behind, let me know if i missed anything else!!

You hesitantly knock on Skye’s door, having been told beforehand by her mother and Joshua that she’s been “uncharacteristic”. He looked nervous, his usual polite smile and engaging presence toned down to a shaky voice and hunched posture. You look down at the paper bags held in one hand. A few of Skye’s favourite snacks as well as her favourite takeout. Maybe that would comfort her? Or maybe she’ll just send you off.

You’re not even sure why you’re here.You don’t recall the last time you’ve talked to Skye in person. Maybe it was after her fall out with Gemma. Who also happened to be your friend, and you would always be together along with Skye. You were then in an awkward position and did not want to fuel the already disastrous atmosphere. Of course you still texted and called her whenever you could, when you weren’t on press tours or scheduled to be on carpet interviews. That of course lasted for a little while, your calls and messages soon went unreturned. But even after hearing about her personal incidents, you passed your best wishes for her to her mother and left a note. It was the least decent thing to do.

The door slightly creaks open, a wild pair of eyes flickering between yours. Her blonde hair falls messily in her forehead and you catch a glimpse of dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Skye?”

She stays still for a minute, eyes squinting at you before she opens the door a tad wider, confusion written all over her face.

“What are you doing here?” She grumbles, her voice low and hoarse, a tone of accusation nearly ripping through her utterances.

“I’m…”

Saying that you’re here on the behalf of her mother and assistant doesn’t sound like the most appropriate response. Nor does “I thought we’d catch up”. She waits, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Did Gemma send you?”

“No…?” You trailed off, not sure as to how you should handle the painfully uncomfortable situation you’re in.

“Was it my mom?”

Not being the best at hiding your emotions, you purse your lips mouth opening and closing to give an answer when she huffs and opens the door.

She doesn’t look back or wait for you to come in, presuming you’d do it on your own like you had many times when you and Gemma were invited for sleepovers. You close the door behind you, following her to the kitchen. Placing the bags down at the counter your brain is wrecking to come up with words instead of being left in this blank haze.

“What’s that?” She points the contents with her head, only registering them now.

“Just something I thought I’d get before stopping by.” It’s a progress, you think. She hasn’t kicked you out yet.

“Was that under my mother’s advice too?”

You feel like you have to tread the line, judging by her questions and current state. You don’t want to be overbearing. But you don’t want to make it seem like you don’t care about her either. Even though she has progressively cut you off through the years.

“You know I never come empty handed.” You attempt to smile, nervously clearing your throat. It was the truth. Though its reminder had no effect on Riley. She just stares blankly at you, before leaning on the counter, dropping her head in her hands. She doesn’t say anything for a while and you feel an uncomfortable and almost murky aura creeping through the room again.

You do wonder why Skye’s mother chose you out of all people to check up on her. This is something that needs to be handled professionally and not just friendly care.

The bag rustles. Skye holds the plastic bag and crushes it, her knuckles turning white before she releases it, gradually.

“Is it real?” She whispers, not looking up at you, her hands going to crush the plastic again. Your silence makes her look at you. Truly look at you for the first time since you’ve gotten here. A look of examination, not a fleeting one.

“What…?” You hesitantly murmur, not wanting to ruin whatever it is that was happening. She holds onto the bag again, this time ripping it piece by piece.

“Is this real?” She repeats, not bothering raising an octave. What’s the use? This could be her lucid dreaming again. In a couple of hours she’ll wake up alone in her apartment. You’re just something present at the back of her subconscious. Maybe it’s the rot playing with her again. Or her brain guilting her into talking to you and Gemma. Her eyes bore into yours again, trying to memorise every single detail. From the way that you dress to the subtle furrow in your brow. This is the closest thing she’d ever get to normalcy.

Her words and actions worry you more than it is confusing. She chews on her lips, frantically running her hands through her hair. You’re afraid she’ll rip her scalp with how rough she’s being.

“Skye…” You slowly raise your hands up, then face your palms down, taking a deep breath. In all truth you don’t know what you’re doing. But you don’t want to see her like that. It pains you more than anything.

She looks down at your hands, her eyes tracing the lines of your palms. Her hands itches to touch yours, anything to ground herself in this reality. Or in this dreamlike reality. Anything. She lets go of her strands, a few fragments of her hair whisking away, before dropping her fingers to the counter. You don’t move your hands away, leaving them as it is.

She slowly reaches for them. She wants to take her time in this reality, in this world, where it does not feel like terror. This is the peace that she’s been wanting.

Her fingers start with the skin of your wrists, tracing your veins. They’re not delicate but do not stop your breath from hitching. She presses down on your pulse and you hope she cannot exactly feel how fast it is racing. She then movies to your palms, tracing its individual lines, and does the same with your fingers. The position is a bit awkward but it doesn’t stop her from lightly pressing on to them every now and then. She feels the monster taunting her, whispering mocking words

You’re going to wake up soon, Skye.

“This is real. I promise you.” You don’t dare raise your voice above a breath, letting her hold on to you. It’s painful but you endure it.

Your hands were so warm. She could melt at how delicate and soft you were. She never wanted to let go. She caught on to what you said. She just couldn’t take it into account. Not with her tears slowly brewing her eyes, blurring everything. You gently let go of her, causing her to raise her head in panic, but you join her behind the counter. You slide your hand towards her again, speaking earnestly.

“I promise you.”

Don’t believe what you see. It’s only a matter of time before she leaves.

She takes your hands and collapses in your chest, letting her tears escape. She didn’t want to feel terror anymore. She didn’t want to feel this weird pressure on her chest again. She wanted to start over again. Back to where everything was simple and easy.

You let her hold on to you, her hands clutching your clothes in a visceral grip. You can feel her tears damping them. Her makeup stains silk probably leave traces behind. And yet, you hold her close, impossibly close to you. She can feel the thrum of your heartbeat, the fabric of your clothing. You still wore your signature scent, sweet and subtly woodsy.

“Are you real?” She sobs, taking a risk to pull back, not caring if she’ll wake up anytime soon. Or if you’ll go away.

Instead of answering her, you reach for her fingers, tracing them to your wrist until she can feel your pulse. You hold her free hand and trace her wrist until return, before feeling her own pulse.

Wordlessly, she crashes into you again. Though she is calm, her body is still wracking with tremors.

“I don’t want to wake up. Don’t want to go back.” She babbles over and over. You still don’t understand, but you figure that the last thing she needs is to be alone.

“I’m not leaving. Ever.”

Not again, you wish you could say.

You repeat soothing words until her tremors die down. You don’t know how long it has been since she’s been in your arms, but you still repeat the same words until she’s completely slack. Much to her protest, you guide her to the couch, promising that you’ll be back.

You go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You make sure to come back quickly, not wanting to leave Skye alone.

“Here.” You murmur, placing the glass of water on the table. Before you can ask anything else, she gulps down in one shot.

“Do I need to bring another glass?” 

She shakes her head, pulling you down to sit with her.

“No, just…stay. Please.”

“Do you need me to heat up the food?”

“No, later. Right now I want you to stay with me.”

And you do.You stay for as long as she needs. She leans into you, dropping her head to your shoulder. It’s a comfortable silence, not the dreading kind that she’s been used to.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You know I’ll always be here for you–”

“I know, I know. And that’s the problem. I…look, I haven’t always…I have not been a good friend. Not to you, not to Gemma. I had shit to deal with and instead of being honest I closed up on myself. And now it feels like it’s ruining me, everything. I just feel…rotten. Like I’m decomposing every minute.” She rambles. She doesn’t know why she’s saying this to you. probably because she knows this is the only place she feels safe.

You bring her closer to you, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them, encouraging her to speak.

“I’m lost. So lost. And it feels that at every turn it feels like I’m being pushed back.” her voice wavers, tears threatening to escape her eyes once again. “It’s like there’s this weight pulling me back. And I don’t know what to do. Like…like…like it’s always coming back for me again to pull me back again.”

You rub soothing circles in her back, fighting back your own tears. If you knew how she felt, you would’ve done more than just sent her mother messages. You would’ve reached out sooner, let her know that you’ll never leave her. 

But would it make that much of a change?

“Do you think I’m insane?” She mumbles against your shoulder, tracing the patterns of your hands. “And be honest with me.”

Your furrow your brows, taking her hands in yours, lightly squeezing them.

“You’ve been through a lot. For you to be standing here…it takes a lot of effort. You’re stronger than what you think you are, Skye. And you’re valid for feeling this way. You’re not insane, Skye. If anything, I think you’re brave.”  You try to keep your voice level, making her eyes meet yours. “And I can’t imagine half of what it’s like to…to go through so many things. But you’re not alone. There are people who care for you.”

For a long minute she questions if you’re just saying that to make her feel better. But by the look on your face, the same serious and gentle expression she’d come across with multiple times, she knows…or hopes, you are being truthful.

She lays in your arms again, her eyes closing as sleep slowly takes her whole. She tries to fight it, not wanting to escape. You notice, and grab a nearby blanket, comfortably draping her in warmth. She can’t fight it back anymore.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.”

She falls asleep right after that.

°

You’re not here anymore. She does not have a real idea of how long she has passed out, but she cannot feel your warmth anymore. Her blanket is still draped around her, she can still feel the ghost of your arms. She doesn’t dare speak out, in fear of this rot to come back at her.

It was the first time since she has had a dream that was not a nightmare. At least she can count herself lucky.

You had to wake up eventually, the rot mocks in its gravely voice.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, passing a hand over her face until it reaches her hair, wanting to rip off her strands. She cries, swearing into the emptiness.

She looks down at the reflection of the glass table, looking down at the glass of water along with a little note

in case you wake up, i’m in the kitchen

She grabs the note, looks at it confusedly. She can’t hear the rot mocking her anymore. Or she can, but it’s…weak? It’s like it’s dying.

Her phone is on the table, there are messages of her mom and Jacob. It must be an illusion.

“Skye, what’s happening are you okay?” You rush in the living room, you don’t even have time to finish your sentence before she crashes into your arms, nearly toppling you over.

“You’re here. You’re here.” She babbles, over and over, not letting you go.

You hug her back, softly whispering soothing words.

“I’m sorry, I just went to get some food for you–”

“No, no, it’s okay. You’re here.”

You don’t question her, letting her speak. Her arms laces your waist, smiling in relief at your warmth, your scent, the feel of you.

She pulls back to meet your eyes, holding your hands to her cheeks. The rot is fighting to make an appearance, yelling, screaming, roaring insults. You wipe her tears with your thumbs, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll always be here.”

Her knees buckle, her entire body feels lightweight. Her mouth feels dry, deprived of water. You’re quick to catch her in your arms, sliding down to the floor.

“You’re here.” She laments, her eyes fluttering close, missing how you reached for your phone to call for help, drowning in silence and emptiness.

[asliceofzosan]

because i woke up today still thinking of zosan's baby girl, here are some stuff about it that are now my roman empire:

none. i repeat NONE OF THESE STRAW HATS know how to hold a baby. sanji figured it out due to dormant maternal instincts alone. and more than half the time he has to yell at everyone to not hold her up by the calf or the ankles ("i'm looking at you luffy please for the love of the all blue do NOT gum gum whip her around like a toy—")

unlike both her dads, ayari is actually being extremely picky with food in the beginning. she hates certain textures and cries like its the end of the world when her baby food isn't heated to the right temperature. funnily enough, one of the few times she ate something she didn't want is if chopper is next to her eating the same thing and telling her its yummy. dw none of the baby food goes to waste. they're all re-used somehow in the week's menu. or zoro just ends up eating it.

ussop made a lil wrap around cloth for ayari so that sanji could cook while carrying her hands free. or zoro could have her strapped onto his back and nap while he does pushups.

robin could be seen reading books to ayari when both zoro and sanji are out cold and exhausted from being first time parents. one or both of them would wake up to find robin telling little ayari histories of the islands they visit, or the countries they've saved. she tones down some of the darker elements until she's old enough to grasp it. ayari grows up with auntie robin's love of wanting to know the world.

nami started doing her makeup with ayari on her lap. she shows all the different little products to her, letting her touch her brushes and everything. nami even "does ayari's makeup" too aka she just tickles her face with the brushes and pretends to put makeup on her so she feels like she's doing it too. when she's a little older, ayari asks sanji to join them and more often than not, sanji is making lunch with a full face of makeup done by ayari.

ayari's teething toy is a little plastic mouth sword. zoro is infinitely happy about it.

in the beginning, sanji tried to take up most of the parental responsibilities up until the point that he got too sick to even stand. he was stressed and exhausted beyond belief, actually pushing zoro away a lot. but when he collapses one day sporting a fever that was highly too reminiscent of when nami was sick after little garden, it scares him enough to finally seek zoro out for help.

and its not like zoro has not Tried to take the load off. its just that sanji was still fighting all his repressed feelings for zoro and this undue pressure hes put on himself to become a better parent than judge ever was to him. that he could raise this child with love and attention and devotion, completely forgetting that hes not the only parent.

zoro and sanji have a heartfelt talk about how the wish that was granted on that island was a blessing beyond belief. that theres a reason ayari looks like both of them. that she takes after both of them.

they both wished for this child in the deepest depths of their hearts. they wanted not just to be together but to have someone that grows up loved by them. cared for by them. not a restart or a replacement for a lost loved one like they first thought it was. but a child who sees them — zoro and sanji — and will one day wish to have a love like theirs.

oh also "luffy" is ayari's first word because zoro and sanji say it so often to stop their captain from doing dangerous shit while he's holding her. in line with that, her second word is "stop" so the first sentence she ever says is "luffy stop!"

the crew are hysterical over it. sanji stares into the void bc he wished for ayari's first word to be "dada"

he settles with the little joy of her fourth word being "marimo"

because her third word was "curly" (something he nearly strangled zoro for)

[earthlybeam]

Hi, I was wondering if I could request how Elrond, Glorfindel, and Elrohir would react to a reader who could shapeshift? Like, they discover that the reader can shapeshift by accident and the reader's afraid of what the elves will do. Sorry if this went too long! Thank you!

how would the elves react to this?

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Elrond, glrofindel, elrohir Versions are below.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ When Elrond first discovers that you possess the ability to shapeshift, his reaction is one of cautious curiosity, tempered by the wisdom and experience he has accumulated over the centuries. Elves, with their deep connection to the natural world and their understanding of magic, are not easily surprised. However, shapeshifting is a rare and powerful gift, one that can evoke fear, awe, and uncertainty even among the most knowledgeable of elves.

✶ The discovery would likely occur in an intimate, quiet moment—perhaps during one of your walks through Rivendell, as you and Elrond stroll side by side along a path bordered by ancient trees. Maybe something unexpected happens: a sudden change in your emotions, or perhaps a flurry of movement catches his eye, and before he can fully comprehend what has happened, you have shifted into a different form. It could be something as small as an animal or as grand as a more mystical creature. In that moment, Elrond would freeze, his elven grace allowing him to remain calm, but his sharp, penetrating gaze would be focused on you with quiet intensity.

✶ His first instinct would not be to judge or condemn you. Instead, Elrond’s reaction would be one of deep contemplation. He would study the change, not out of suspicion, but because he is a being of profound understanding of magic and its many facets. His mind would race as he seeks to understand the origins of your ability and what this means for both you and your future together.

✶ Once you return to your true form, he would approach you with a quiet, measured voice, a softness in his words that you might not expect from such a regal and wise figure. He would not be alarmed, but he would certainly want to discuss it.

✶ “My friend, do not fear,” Elrond would say, his tone gentle but firm, filled with the weight of many ages. “This gift you possess is… rare, and I admit, it is not something I have encountered often in my long years. But I know this much—what you are is no less beautiful than the being I have come to cherish.”

✶ He would carefully reach out, his hands warm and steady, offering you comfort and reassurance. He would not want you to feel vulnerable or ashamed, though he would understand that such a secret may weigh heavily on your heart. His deep understanding of elvish lore would give him insight into the history of shapeshifting, and he would likely draw upon ancient knowledge to ease your fears. His empathy for your situation would be immense, as he could sense that this power might feel like both a blessing and a burden to you.

✶ “I am not one to cast judgment upon the strange or the unknown,” he would continue, his voice laced with wisdom. “You are not the first to bear a power such as this. Many ages ago, the Eldar encountered beings of great power, ones who could alter their forms at will. Some did so for noble causes, while others… fell to darkness.”

✶ He would take a step closer, his hand brushing your cheek in a gesture both tender and understanding. His gaze would soften as he continued, “But fear not, Mellon nín. I see no darkness in you. You are not bound by the same temptations that once corrupted others. Your heart is pure, and your intentions are guided by love, not by power.”

✶ Despite his calm exterior, Elrond’s mind would remain alert. He would wonder about the potential consequences of your gift, not only for you but also for those around you. He would likely seek counsel from other wise beings in Rivendell, such as Gandalf, to ensure that this power remains under control and is used for good.

✶ However, even as Elrond processes the implications of your shapeshifting, he would be unwavering in his support of you. His deep love for you would prevent him from ever seeing this as a source of fear or danger. Instead, he would approach it as another part of the complex, beautiful person that you are. “My heart is bound to yours, and no power, no matter how great, will change that,” Elrond would say, his voice unwavering. “Together, we will face whatever challenges lie ahead. You are not alone in this, and I will stand by you always.”

✶ In his quiet, stoic way, Elrond would assure you that nothing—be it your shapeshifting or any other secret you might hold—could ever drive a wedge between you. His love is constant, a rock upon which you can lean. In the moments that follow, you would feel his presence as a source of peace, knowing that, with him by your side, you are safe from harm.

✶ Over time, Elrond would continue to support you in mastering and understanding your gift. He would encourage you to explore it, but always with a sense of caution, urging you to balance the power you hold with the wisdom you have gained. Together, you would explore the depths of this mysterious ability, learning from each other and strengthening the bond between you.

✶ Ultimately, Elrond’s reaction would reflect his fundamental nature—one of wisdom, compassion, and unwavering love. He would never see your gift as something to fear but rather as an aspect of who you are, something that makes you all the more remarkable in his eyes.

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

𖤓 When Glorfindel discovers your ability to shapeshift, it is not through deliberate revelation, but rather by accident—perhaps during a moment of heightened emotion or an unforeseen situation. You may have hoped to keep this part of yourself hidden, knowing how rare and often misunderstood such abilities are, even among the Eldar. But Glorfindel, with his sharp eyes and keen instincts honed over millennia, notices the shift instantly.

𖤓 The moment is quiet yet charged with tension. Perhaps you had shifted into an animal form to avoid danger or simply let your emotions get the better of you, and before you could stop it, the change overcame you. As you stand before him, his blue gaze locks onto you—not with fear, but with an intense curiosity, as if he is piecing together the threads of an ancient tale. Glorfindel does not speak immediately; instead, he watches, his angelic presence radiating calm, giving you space to return to your true form when you are ready.

𖤓 As you return to yourself, you may fear rejection or judgment, your heart racing as you wait for him to respond. But Glorfindel’s expression is far from harsh or wary. There is no distrust in his eyes, no recoiling in disgust. Instead, his face softens with an unmistakable warmth, the kind of gentle compassion that has made him beloved by so many. He takes a step closer, his movements unhurried and deliberate, careful not to startle you.

𖤓 “Well,” he finally says, a small, boyish grin spreading across his lips, “that was unexpected. But magnificent all the same.” His tone is light, almost teasing, but not in a way that diminishes the gravity of the moment. His words are meant to put you at ease, to let you know that you are not in danger here, not with him.

𖤓 If he senses your unease—your fear of what he might do or think—Glorfindel’s demeanor grows even softer. He kneels slightly, lowering himself to your eye level if necessary, so that you do not feel dwarfed by his presence. “Mellon nín,” he says, his voice laced with the gentle cadence of reassurance, “do not be afraid. I have walked this world for ages, and I have seen much that would confound others. But you? You are nothing to fear.”

𖤓 He reaches out, his hand steady but slow, a silent offer of comfort. Whether you accept or not, his gaze remains steady, a golden warmth in his eyes that feels like the first rays of dawn breaking through a storm. “This is a gift,” he says softly, his voice imbued with awe and reverence. “Rare, yes, but a gift nonetheless. And I think… it speaks of great purpose, a strength that is uniquely yours.”

𖤓 Glorfindel’s understanding of the world runs deep, and his words reflect his long years of wisdom. He does not see your ability as something to be feared, but rather something to be honored. “In the days of old,” he continues, “there were tales of those who could shift their form, beings who were blessed with a connection to the very fabric of creation. You may carry such a connection within you, and that… that is extraordinary.”

𖤓 His voice softens further, becoming almost a whisper, as if he is sharing a secret meant only for you. “I see no shadow in you, no ill intent. If anything, this makes you even more remarkable than I already thought you to be.”

𖤓 Should you confess your fears—that others might reject you, or that your gift might bring harm—Glorfindel’s reaction is immediate. His hand moves to your shoulder or cheek, a gesture of steadfast reassurance. “Do not let fear guide you,” he says, his tone firm yet gentle. “You are more than your ability. And anyone who cannot see that is blind to the beauty of your spirit.”

𖤓 He steps back slightly, giving you the space to process his words, but his radiant energy continues to envelop you like a protective shield. “You are not alone,” he adds, his voice strong and unwavering. “You will never be alone. Not while I am here. Whatever this means—whatever challenges it may bring—you have my support, my loyalty, and my strength.”

𖤓 Over time, Glorfindel’s reaction does not waver. If anything, his fascination with your gift grows. He does not pry or press you to demonstrate it, respecting your boundaries, but his curiosity is undeniable. “Do you feel it when you change?” he might ask one evening as you sit together by the fire. “Does it hurt? Or does it feel like… freedom?”

𖤓 His questions are never intrusive; instead, they are filled with genuine wonder, as if your ability is a puzzle he is honored to help you solve. And when you feel ready to explore your gift, Glorfindel is there, a steady and unwavering presence by your side. “Let us see what this power can do,” he says with a grin, his golden hair catching the light like a halo. “But no pressure. Only when you’re ready.”

𖤓 He would undoubtedly defend you if anyone dared to question or belittle your gift, his legendary courage shining through. “This one,” he would say firmly, gesturing to you with pride, “has a strength most of us cannot even fathom. Do not mistake the unfamiliar for something lesser.”

𖤓 Ultimately, Glorfindel sees your shapeshifting as just another facet of who you are—one more reason to cherish and admire you. To him, it is not something that sets you apart in a negative way, but rather something that makes you uniquely you. “You are remarkable, and nothing—nothing—will change the way I see you,” he says one evening, his voice as steady and sure as the foundations of Gondolin itself.

𖤓 In Glorfindel, you find not only an unwavering protector but also an endless wellspring of kindness, wisdom, and love. With him by your side, you know that your gift, no matter how rare or misunderstood, is something to be embraced rather than feared. And in his presence, you feel safe, accepted, and seen for who you truly are.

⭐️𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓱𝓲𝓻

✧ When Elrohir first discovers that you possess the ability to shapeshift, his reaction is an intricate balance of surprise, intrigue, and protectiveness. Unlike some elves who may view such an ability with wary reverence or fear, Elrohir—hardened by years of battle and tempered by his sense of humor—reacts with an innate calm, though his sharp gaze betrays his fascination.

✧ The discovery would likely occur during one of your shared moments of quiet solitude. Perhaps while scouting a wooded glen together or on the outskirts of Rivendell, you inadvertently shift into another form. It might be a defensive reaction—an instinct to protect yourself from a perceived threat—or simply a moment where your emotions overwhelmed you. In that fleeting moment, Elrohir halts in his tracks, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. Not out of hostility, but readiness to defend, should the situation require it.

✧ “Well,” he remarks in a low, even tone, though his smirk is unmistakable, “that is not what I expected today.” His dry humor surfaces immediately, as it often does when he’s faced with the unexpected. However, the lightness of his words is tempered by the intensity in his gaze, his keen elven eyes studying you with both curiosity and wariness.

✧ As you shift back to your true form, your apprehension is palpable, and Elrohir’s demeanor softens. He notices the tremor in your voice as you stammer an apology or explanation, and his innate protectiveness surges to the forefront. He steps closer to you, his hand falling from his sword to rest on your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

✧ “Peace, mellon nín,” he says gently, his voice unusually soft for one so often fierce in battle. “You have no reason to fear me.” His tone carries the weight of sincerity, but his sharp mind is already working through what this ability means for you—and for him.

✧ Unlike his father, Elrohir is not one to dwell on the ancient histories or deeper metaphysical implications of such powers. His first thoughts are of you—your safety, your fears, and how this gift might affect your life. He knows well how the world can twist something rare and beautiful into a source of scorn or danger.

✧ “You think I would cast you aside for this?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. There’s a faint edge to his voice, as though offended by the very idea. “Do you not know me better by now?”

✧ Despite his outward calm, there is an undeniable protectiveness in his tone. He steps closer, lowering his voice as though to shield your secret from the trees themselves. “This world is not kind to those who are different,” he continues, his expression darkening slightly. “But you are not alone in this. Whatever you face, I will stand by your side.”

✧ Though Elrohir does not often voice his emotions in flowery terms, his actions speak louder than any words could. He stays close to you for the rest of the day, his usual playfulness muted as he watches over you with quiet vigilance. He is determined to show you, not just through words but through unwavering loyalty, that your gift changes nothing between you.

✧ Later, when the two of you are alone and the tension has eased somewhat, his curiosity finally gets the better of him. “How long have you carried this secret?” he asks, his tone gentler now, though his eyes gleam with intrigue. “And why would you hide it from me? Did you think I would fear you?”

✧ His dry humor returns as he smirks faintly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Or perhaps you thought I’d mistake you for an orc and try to run you through?” The jest is paired with a teasing glint in his eye, but the underlying message is clear: nothing about you could ever frighten or alienate him.

✧ Over time, Elrohir would not only accept your ability but come to see it as an extraordinary gift. He would marvel at your transformations, his sharp mind quick to find practical applications for your shapeshifting in both scouting and combat. However, his protectiveness would also deepen. The thought of someone discovering your secret and seeking to harm or exploit you would fill him with a quiet but fierce determination to keep you safe.

✧ “This gift of yours,” he would say one evening, as the two of you sit beneath the stars, “it does not make you strange or unnatural. If anything, it makes you more wondrous. But…” He pauses, his expression darkening slightly. “It is a dangerous world, and there are those who would not see it as I do.”

✧ His hand brushes yours, a rare gesture of open vulnerability from one so guarded. “But you have me. Whatever comes, I will protect you, with my life if need be.”

✧ Elrohir’s reaction to your shapeshifting would reflect his unique blend of playfulness, protectiveness, and fierce loyalty. Where others might see your gift as something to fear, he would see it as yet another facet of the person he loves—something extraordinary, yes, but not something that changes the bond between you. And though he may tease you about it from time to time, it would only be to see you smile, knowing that, with him, you are safe to be exactly who you are.

[protagaster]

...

Don't judge me. I had this creative flow and I REALLY wanted to let it run its course.

Made with love and inspiration from my sister in sin - @somereaderinblue! A lot of Ares' personality comes from Blue's notes, quotes, and cute little random sayings.

This time, though, I also dedicate this fic to @zippyskyfalls! You'd be surprised what looking at one image of Ares could do for the creative process ~

I Need Him to be Mine

Penelope's heart can't help but flutter, longing once more to gaze into those mesmerizing eyes belonging to the young King of Ithaca...

Ares tilted his head at the peculiar sight before him. 

Only a day ago Penelope had asked of him to train her harder and more vigorously than usual, eager to defeat the boy that unknowingly agitated her to a game of friendly spar. 

Now here she was, after that same boy bested her in their spar, softly humming a common love-tune dedicated to his Aphrodite, sitting at her loom and threading together a simple but beautiful tapestry featuring the boy as her muse. 

Now, Ares will be the first to admit that despite his age he has not retained much knowledge on mortals and their whims. How could he, when he is one of the most hated Gods within the entire pantheon and even outside of it? Before Penelope, Ares did not have the opportunity to look over and learn from mortals that were not related to him. 

However, even with his lack of experience, Ares still knew how improbable it was for someone to completely shift their thoughts and impressions of a person. And yet here Penelope was, softly singing a melody about everlasting love, dedicating a piece of her sacred craft to the boy she previously thought to be more cavalier than even Zeus himself. 

“-eyes?” 

“What was that?” Ares asked, roused from his thoughts after hearing Penelope’s voice take on a meek tone. 

She hasn’t spoken in such a small, soft voice ever since Ares first claimed her as his pupil. How can she, when his mere presence is enough to fill her with boundless confidence even in the most mundane of daily activities? 

“His eyes,” Penelope answered the God, not once looking up from her loom. “They aren’t good enough…” 

Ares, still in quite the curious state, looked down at the tapestry small enough to fit in two palms. 

There he was, displayed carefully in spools of thread that perfectly encapsulated his image, the boy from before, Odysseus…

Ugh, the boy’s name left a poor taste in Ares’ mouth. 

Still, even if Ares did not like the boy (how could he, when this Odysseus radiated the same sickening smugness and weak-willed cunning as that damned Athena), he could at least praise his student’s passion for her craft.

The background of the tapestry was a simple white and light blue, colors heavily associated with the boy, from his wear to his kingdom. The center of the small cloth, highlighting the main focus of it, was the almost completed figure of the boy himself. Penelope perfectly mirrored his semi-long wavy brown hair, the slight curve of a smile constantly gracing his lips, and the lean but still relatively toned muscle that adorned his physical figure. 

Ares tried not to think of why Penelope chose to put extra emphasis on the details around the boy’s thighs… 

However, there was one detail in his student’s tapestry that kept it from completion. A detail that Ares would argue to be an individual’s most important feature- 

Odysseus’ eyes. 

The God could tell from how the thread around the loom piled up that Penelope spent some time threading then promptly unthreading her model’s eyes. 

“The eyes giving you trouble?” Ares suspected this to be true based on Penelope’s earlier proclamation, but he still wanted to be sure. 

“No matter what I do, I just can’t seem to get them right!” 

Ares raised an eyebrow. He gestured to the wall opposite of Penelope’s loom.

“You’ve managed just fine with all of these.” 

Ares brought to attention the many other various projects Penelope weaved over the course of perfecting her craft. Some displayed animale, symbols, and scenery, while others illustrated people, either individual or in a group. Either way, all of them were considered works of art by all who gazed upon them. 

Of the tapestries focusing on people, the earliest ones depicted Penelope’s family. The first of her cloth would showcase the young princess’ family: these very few featuring her mother, six siblings, and two of her quintuplet cousins, Castor and Pollux. A few more than the previous were modeled after Penelope’s favorite cousins, Helen and Clytemnestra. However, it was clear who most of those early tapestries took inspiration from; so many of Penelope’s earliest creations, even going back to the very first when she was just discovering her love of weaving, illustrated the image of her father, King Icarius. 

Over time though, in a manner that signified her state of mind as she got older, less and less of Penelope’s projects featured her family. Now, almost none of them depicted her father. 

Ares couldn’t help but let himself feel somber for his student, the implications behind this trend not at all ignorant to God. Especially considering his own standing with his divine family…

Ares shook his head, forcing himself to return to the topic at hand. Following the line of Penelope’s designs that featured people, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. 

For most of those projects were made in honor of the God of War himself. 

Most would depict his strength and fearlessness within moments of combat, visualized through the stories Ares would share with Penelope (sometimes even guiding her through the events with his quick-tought). This, of course, was the image that Ares was most commonly known by in the Greek world, for better or worse. 

A few though, presented Ares as something other than the personification of loss and bloodshed. These tapestries, projects Penelope chose to create whenever she felt most proud of Ares, they illustrated the God’s image via details told through his stories (details he once thought to be trivial) and through personal moments shared between the God and his mortal. One of the tapestries depicted a scene with Ares gazing lovingly up at Aphrodte, embracing the Goddess in his arms. Another, an image that displayed Ares using a hand to shield a young woman’s eyes, his other atop the woman’s own hands as he guided her through a violent and bloody battlefield. The last, one Penelope admitted to be one of her favorites, bringing to life the moment the 13 year old Spartan princess pulled the divine spear out of the earth, a vulture looming over her not as a scavenger, but a protector.  

Ares forced himself to return to the topic at hand before he could get too caught up in his pride. The point was, Penelope is no novice when it came to depicting images through her weaving. In fact, despite her young age, her hands were probably the most skilled in the art throughout the entire kingdom. Nay, throughout all of Greece even! 

So why was it giving her so much trouble when she tried to encapsulate this boy’s image?

“It’s different with him…” Penelope sighed out, using the tip of her finger to caress the boy’s threaded face. “No matter what I do, I’m unable to depict that sparkle in his eyes…” 

Ares couldn’t control his blink of shock. With every word this girl uttered, they only left him more and more confused. 

“What ‘sparkle’?” 

“You know! The sparkle!” Penelope stood up and walked away from her loom, embracing herself as a light blush spread throughout her cheeks.

Penelope flopped down on her bed with a not-so graceful thud. For once in her life, the Princess cared not over her demeanor, the only thing flooding her heart and mind being the foreign but not unwelcome feeling of butterflies flying in her tummy. 

“The way his eyes shine whenever he comes up with an idea! How the glint in his eye appears whenever he proves mental strength to be just as, if not more impressive at times, compared to physical strength! Or how they twinkle when he laughs…”

Penelope sighed, unaware of the blush that only got richer in color the more her mind lingered on the young King of Ithaca. 

“Oh, his laugh. It’s like music to the ears…” 

Ares couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Everything Penelope describes about the boy came from the spar they had just partook in mere hours ago. The very same in which she experienced a quick and humiliating defeat. 

Even after her mentor had declared she would train extra hard in the coming weeks to make up for her failure, Ares saw Penelope was not deterred. Quite the opposite, actually. 

While Ares was lamenting over how he once again lost to Athena, Penelope was beside him gushing over how Odysseus respected her as a warrior by refusing to go easy on her. 

Ares himself didn't see the appeal. The boy was smaller than other boys his age, considerably scrawnier, and did not meet the criteria of a warrior that Ares thought to be necessary. Penelope though- 

“I must get it done! Even if it’s only through a piece of cloth made by my hand-”

The girl ran back to her loom, looking at her unfished project longingly. 

“-I need him to be mine…” 

Ares let out a groan. Even though Penelope had verbally expressed her desires to be with Odysseus, and even with his gift of courage coursing through her heart and veins, the truth was the girl still thought her dream of being with the boy to be an unobtainable one. 

Because he was here for Helen’s hand, not hers. 

Ares was offended for Penelope, for how dare this Odysseus, Athena’s student at that, think himself to be above the affections of his mortal pupil! 

No, that simply won’t do!

Ares will have to go to the boy’s room when the time is right, to confront him over his foolishness! Athena be damned! 

Whatever it takes, for the sake of creating a warrior empowered by her heart instead of feeling burdened by it, Ares will do what he must!

…

Maybe he should ask Aphrodite first though, just to be safe…

[lizzychanstuffss]

May I... may I touch you?

Astartion x durge!reader

thank you @ferenofnopewood (also for being my beta reader!) for the inspo for this. We both went feral talking about this.

Synopsis: a simple rewrite of the Act 2 romance scene with durge and Astarion. Basically, this is just extra soft and I imagine it would be cute if he remembered you hugging him in the confession scene. Also this is totally my headcanon for my own durge but don't mind that

Of course as always spoilers for act 2!

Your head spun with bile and wrath, unable to sleep it off as you normally would try to do. But no matter what you did nothing seemed to calm the thundering headache forming at the edges of your mind. So without much other choice, you stood up. Your companions were blissfully sleeping while you wrestled with unseen demons. Once you got up you could see Astarion from across the still burning fire; his beauty was always apparent even when he was at rest. 

But your silent admiration was rudely interrupted by a foul-sounding goblin butler.

"He is so afraid. So, so afraid of everyone besides you who he ought to fear the most." His words were clearly said with the intention of shaking your resolve. "You could do so much better." The goblins' tone disgusted you, how he could say such things and yet you know they rang true in Astarion’s own mind, he was so worried you could do better than some runaway vampire spawn. But these thoughts were clouding your judgment even more than the urge was and with that you shook your head as the thoughts faded to the background.

"Get away from him." The bile and raw, murderous intent that had been clawing at your insides broke out in a growl. But seemingly unimpeded by your defense he playfully hopped over Astarion, the thought of using your urge to protect him might not be all that bad of an idea. 

Was he taunting you? It was a thought that crossed your mind and passed as he spoke again.

"I won't lay so much as a talon on him! I wouldn't rob you of that delight. Your clever mind is penning up a tragedy as we speak. Your repressed urge yearns to kill." He appraises a moment before continuing "And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized." The words were a shock to your system. You couldn't let that happen not to him, not ever. The thought alone made you want to vomit that your own body would even consider it.

"I-I love him, No, I can't be" You couldn’t imagine losing no not him. He’s been the only person who didn’t judge, didn’t blame you, no matter how bad it got. You couldn’t bear to—

"We all kill what we love most, in time" 

You choked back a sob.

"You like him for more than his looks, but he will never believe that. Why not make him a pretty corpse?" Your hands started to twitch as you let yourself briefly indulge in the fantasy of wrapping them around the wretched creature’s neck. If he really meant to taunt you into committing a murder he was certainly getting close to achieving that goal.

"He must live....I haven't yet told him how I truly feel about him." The felt less like a defense against the butlers goading and more like a reminder to yourself. What you were truly trying to achieve here. You have promised to protect Astarion. From Cazador, from yourself, it didn’t matter. And it was a promise you would never break…at least you hoped.

"Why not whisper it while you twist a knife? Or have a love confession be the final words between you? It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master." He lets out a sigh mimicking a father in its nature. "There was much..disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden. You could kill this one deliberately. I'm sure it will be considered a great show of good will. The tithe could still be yours." There it was again, the offer, the temptation…what you assumed was to be considered one. You still had no idea what this so-called tithe even could be; but you were certain you wanted nothing to do with it if it required such a foul murder.

"I will save him, whatever it takes."

"I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank. Good night." And with that the butler was finally gone leaving you with a choice you had already made prior. Taking the initiative and kneeling besides Astarion you attempted to wake him. But as you went to reach for his shoulder your hand paused of it’s own violation, it itched to wrap itself around his throat and ruin him. You would not allow it, a battle against your own mind was something you had gotten accustomed to on this journey thus far and so once you were able to regain composure you went to wake him but he made quicker work of it then you could, questioning whether or not he was actually in a trance at all tonight.

"Well, hello. Looking for a cuddle?" he said, flirtatious as ever even in such a trying time for yourself. Although you were sure the look on your face gave way to his next set of words. "Although you don't look entirely...yourself. What's going on in that head of yours?"

That question was one you had to think about how to answer, and quickly. "Listen, now isn't the time...I need to protect you." You tried your best to convey the urgency of your situation as the headache overtook you again.

"All right, talk quickly, then." He seemed concerned, but there was something unsure about his expression as well. 

"I'm going to kill the person I most care about: you." 

You took a breath, it was ragged and barely enough to push the headache down for the moment, as you used the brief moment of clarity to gauge what Astarion’s reaction. 

"Unless you can stop me." A faint glimmer of hope mingled with your voice as you practically pleaded with him. Astarion was a capable enough fighter, surely stopping you would be an easy enough feat.

"How flattering, And disturbing" he smiled "You could have talked to me before things got murderously bad, you know. We are technically in this together." He was using sass to cover nerves that you couldn’t help but notice. It was so like him even in the face of danger "It certainly puts the death of dear, sweet Alfira into some perspective." Those were the last words you heard before your vision blurred and your head grew into a dizzy blur and you fainted.

But when you awoke you were not in control, it was like watching from a window all you could do was try and tap on the glass. You tried your best to resist hurting him…although you realized quite quickly you were bound by your hands and feet. It gave you some relief to know that you could do little to rebel in this state. 

"This thing won't have you. It won't win." You hoped those words were true. You tried your best to resist again expressing understanding. Instead your body reacts with a will of its own, it tried to bite at him. Which would have almost been funny any other time but now…now all you wanted to do was scream out in frustration.

"Ah ah ah! We ask before we bite.” He took this better than you expected, with a sigh he spoke again "You're cute, you know. In another life we might have been friends." Those words felt flippant in the moment, but you could tell there was an underlying sadness to them. If you’d been of your right mind you would have tried to comfort him. But comforting anyone was beyond you at the moment. All you could do was fight against your binding and your urge as it drove you to struggle against the bindings the kept you from hurting anyone, including yourself.

"Easy now, darling, You've got this. And I've got you." Those words gave you a strange comfort and a boost of determination. Feeling another wave of the urge you tried your best to resist and this time managed to express a sliver of thankfulness for his words.

"You'd do the same to me. Now just relax - dawn isn't far off." He wasn't wrong about that, as much as it was hard to admit he knew you better than you'd like to admit at times. The night passed on and without any bloodshed, a mercy from the gods. You once again returned to your mind, scared and exhausted.

Then, almost on cue, Astarion came to free you from your bindings. He sat in front of you, and a look of embarrassment crept onto your face as he spoke.

"I felt bad for the bard, seeing you like that. Poor Alfira never stood a chance, did she?" It wasn't really a question even if he posed it as one because the answer was clear as day. "Now that you're back with us," he paused, "We need to have a talk."

You had dreaded this moment but he was right. You needed to talk about this whether you wanted to or not. You sighed before trying to speak, but the words ended up getting caught in your throat. Suddenly you realized there were tears falling down your cheeks. You were unable to hold it back any longer. Any sort of strong front you had put on up unto this point faded in an instant and you were sat in front of him sobbing.

Concern formed on the man's face and he adjusted himself to get a little closer before asking "May I....may I touch you?" His words were gentle and meant to be calming - although almost anything said in his voice was calming. You gave him a nod. You weren't sure what he was going to do exactly but when he gently wrapped his around your shaking body in a similar fashion to how you had hugged him a few nights prior. Those tears started to flow even more. Nestling your head in the crook of his neck, tears wetted his rather flowy camp shirt.

"Sh, sh, you can let it all out." Those words caused the tears to flow even harder. Had you really been holding in all of this for so long? You didn't know. All you did know was that you really needed this: A gentle comfort from someone you loved so deeply as him. After a moment, he tentatively stroked your hair. Although you couldn’t help but wonder if his hesitation was because he wasn’t sure how to actually comfort someone or if he just didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It didn’t really matter all that much, you didn’t care, you appreciated that he even tried in the first place.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him just stroking your hair and holding you while you let out all the tears you needed to get out. By the time you could finally talk again your eyes were red and puffy, but he would never say a thing about it. As you removed yourself from his body, but only enough so you could get a look at his face he instinctively raised a hand up to caress your cheek before stopping but your answered his silent question by leaning into it. He wiped away some of your tears before gently running his thumb over your cheek. It was a soft gesture and much needed, his touch was welcome in that moment.

"So then, are you ready to talk now, or do you need to stain my shirt more first?" he joked. A small chuckle made its way across your lips, and a smile found its way to his lips as well.

"I suppose I am...I know I owe you an explanation" you sighed.

"You don't owe me anything” he corrected  “But I would like an explanation." 

You gave him a nod. He was right, of course. But considering you did almost kill him, explaining seemed like the least you could do.

You told him everything about “the dark urge” as you had taken to calling it. Well, everything you could remember. He sat there and listened patiently. But his face gave way to no emotion, no emotion, no fear just…..understanding.

Once you finished explaining, he replied, "You are not alone in this - none of us are. We can even compare notes if you like." His comforting words made you feel like a monster, it was refreshing. 

You looked his face over, before you leaned into his hand again, closing your eyes as sadness began to overtake you. "You know you're allowed to hate me for this...I know I would" Your self-loathing rearing its ugly head, you couldn't help it; as much as his comfort was nice to hear the fact of the matter was you felt like a monster. Just some attack dog meant only to destroy everything and anything in your path.

"I don't hate you..because this," he made sure you kept eye contact during these words, his gaze was intense fully focused on you in this moment "This is not you" The words rang through you, and you wanted more than anything for that to be true…but it was hard to believe when killing just felt so natural to indulge in and it was just so easy to let the urge do the work. But in this moment you had to take him at his word; because if you didn't you were sure you were going to start sobbing again.

He pressed his forehead to yours before speaking again "Whatever this is though, you will get through it. And I will be here to make sure you do." A promise you hoped would be true.

[fizziepopangel]

A Surprise For You, My Dear

* Author’s note: In this story, I’m going to interpret Alastor’s asexuality and aromanticism as more fluid than it seems to be canonically. Also, this is my first fanfic so please keep that in mind if it's shit... That being said, I hope you enjoy!

P.s. If you enjoy this fic, you can always request more with the Fic Request Form

Alastor. The radio demon. Everyone knew the radio demon, and though he had been gone for quite a while, most still feared him upon his return, but not me. Because he was different from me. Softer, kinder, more genuine. It wasn’t a relationship, at least I didn’t think it was, but I still enjoyed my time with Alastor; the dancing, the laughter we both shared, every moment left me in awe of the man that had come to be feared by so many.

“You gonna answer me or not?” Husk snapped, pulling me from my thoughts. 

I tried to cover my embarrassment that struck me when I realized that I hadn’t been listening to the old bartender at all despite having been the one that came and started conversing with the man. I sat up a little straighter and looked over at the bar cat. “Sorry, I… my mind was somewhere else. What did you say?”

Husk rolled his eyes. “I’m goin’ out with Angel tonight but that damn pig of his is sick. I think the little shit got into my whiskey when Angel brought him down here last night. Angel wants to know if you’ll watch him.” He takes a long sip of whiskey in his glass. “So you up for it?”

Although I loved Fat Nuggets and would usually jump at the chance to spend time with the sweet little pig, I shook my head. “Sorry, I have plans with Alastor.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Al said he has a surprise for me tonight…”

“Right.” Husk gives me an unimpressed look that seems to say something along the lines of fuck you without outright saying fuck you. “Your boyfriend and your date night.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I say awkwardly. “I mean.. I don’t think so…I mean, I… I just… I like him but its, it’s…” I sigh deeply, a heat rising in my cheeks. “Shut up, Husk.”

 “Whatever.” Husk says in his usual empty sarcastic tone. “Guess Angel and me’ll just stay in with the pig tonight…” I watch as he turns, grabbing a glass and beginning to polish it with a rag that ironically  didn’t all that clean.

“Oh… sorry, Husk…” I mumble awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit like a dick for essentially denying the couple a night out. I knew they both deserved it but I just couldn’t bring myself to say that I would cancel on Alastor when he made the night out seem so special. “I…” I trail off for a moment, feeling the other demon’s judging eyes despite his back still being turned to me as he continues to polish glasses on the shelf behind the bar. “I’m gonna go get ready to meet Alastor. I’ll see you later, and maybe I can take Fat Nuggets another time?”

I receive a grunt in reply, but as I get off my barstool, I hear the old demon grumble under his breath…. A simple warning. “Just… Be careful around Alastor, kid…. You been having a rough enough time without his bullshit” He says, not even sparing me a glance as the words left his lips. I promise him I will, knowing that he’s only looking out for me… Husk always told me that, or at least something along those lines…. But this time felt different; this time it sent a spear of anxiety through my chest and made my mind wander to what everyone in hell knew about Alastor versus the Alastor that I knew. The Alastor that I loved despite knowing he probably didn’t and would never feel the same about me… when I really thought about it, I did wonder why the man had taken such a liking to me. I wasn't indebted to him, I had no real power in hell or the hotel, and even I knew that no matter what version of Alastor was on display, he didn't keep people around without a reason. 

My thoughts continued to wander from one shitty thought to the next as I went up to my room to change for our little hang out. I was so lost in the whirlwind of thoughts when a knock at the door jolted me from where I sat in my room.

“Darling,” Alastor’s cheery, sing song voice. “Are you ready to go?”

Despite the fact that I had just been questioning my entire purpose in his life and why my companionship was so valued by him, I practically tripped over my own two feet trying to get to the door. “Al!” I beam the second I see him. “I thought we were supposed to meet up? What are you doing here?”

Sporting his signature smile, the usually detached demon waltzed into my room, grabbing me and spinning me around. “I thought we could make our way to our outing together, hmm?” He says as I giggle. “What do you say, my dear? May I escort you to the roof for your surprise?” Alastor’s smile faded into a warmer grin as he held out his hand in invitation, waiting for me to take it.

When I took his hand and let him lead me through the halls of the hotel toward the roof, it felt as if all at once the anxieties that had been gnawing away at my gut just melted away ... it was like butterflies just swarmed my insides.

“What is this big surprise, Al?" I giggle as he whisks me up to the roof, stopping just outside the door. 

“Now, I know that you've had a rough week, and that you've been absolutely dying to see that new horror film…” He said giddily. “And I've set something up that I think you'll enjoy very much.”

A frown crossed my face for a moment. I had mentioned wanting to see the horror movie that came out last weekend, and I had been pretty having a shitty week, but I wasn’t sure where Alastor was going with this surprise since he wouldn’t dare touch a tv that would stream the movie. “Yeah…?” I laugh lightly as we stand in front of the door. “What, did you find someone to go to the movies with or something?”

“Not quite.” I can actually heat the excitement in his voice as he opens the door and pulls me through it. “What do you think?”

“Alastor…” I breathe, looking around at the rooftop. There’s twinkle lights strung up all over and blankets and pillows and wine sitting and a basket of my favorite snacks all sitting beside a projector pointed at the wall beside the door. “This is…”

“Oh, but wait, there’s more!” Alastor said, his shadow hitting play on the projector. The beginning sequence of the movie I had been dying to see popping up.

My eyes lit up and despite myself, I launched myself into the radio demon’s arms, eliciting a small ‘oof’ from the man before I felt his arms snake around me. “Alastor, this is amazing! I love it!” I looked up at the man who everyone around me seemed so terrified of, the man my friends warned me to be careful around. “Did you really do this for me?”

“Why of course!” The man smiled down at me, pulling me a bit closer than he usually did before his head dipped just a bit lower and I felt him place a soft kiss on my forehead. “I would do anything to make you happy, my sweet little radio wave.” 

My heart stopped for just a moment before it began racing, hammering against my ribcage as the butterflies in my stomach went wild. “Al…” Before I could stop myself, I found my lips connecting with his and despite his usual aversion to touch and romance and anything that could even possibly lead to sex, he pulled me a bit closer. 

When he didn't pull away, it felt like electricity crackling in my veins. I felt like every star in the sky aligned perfectly as he held me. It felt perfect, it felt right. 

Radio static cracked in the air around us and Alastor’s face was just a light shade of red, no doubt mirroring my own embarrassment at what I had just done.

“Well then, “ Alastor cleared his throat, the static seeming to fade a bit as he straightened his jacket and held his hand out to me. "Shall we sit down and watch the movie?” I take his hand and nod wordlessly, afraid that I would ruin what was certainly a perfect moment if I uttered even a word or asked him to define our relationship.

Alastor showed me to my seat on the blanketed area he had set up, I immediately sank into the soft pillows and blankets, and smiled as he sat down beside me. The movie began to play and as the opening credits began to roll, I knew I should at least thank him for all of this since I knew it was a show of care he reserved for only those he loved on some level, but before I could form a coherent sentence, I felt it… His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me closer to his own body.

“I don’t think I could’ve made this anymore perfect if I tried, Al.” I sigh softly, resting my head against his chest and listening to the quiet, steady crackle of radio static that always seemed to emit from the demon. Although he set this movie night up for me, I’m not even watching the movie, but rather, just trying to soak up this moment before it slips away. “Thank you.”

Alastor chuckles, his hand gently coming to rest on my chin. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned in, our lips hovering just apart from one anothers. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, my dear.” The static completely stops and his whisper tickles my lips as he catches them in another soft kiss.

The week had been shitty, but this… This was perfect.

Alastor Tag list : @writersonicfan91