#bath evening chronicle

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

For the Star Wars Day (May the Fourth / May the Force Be With You) there was shared (with the permission of the Pratchett Estate ) a Terry Pratchett story from the Star Wars Universe that was only published in a newspaper 45 years ago! Very excited to read a new Terry's piece! :)❤ (tweet)

Also, Terry Pratchett writing fanfiction 45 years ago, can I hear a wahoo? :)

[vixstarria]

Sweat

Astarion, Halsin and Tav become a triad after the fall of the Netherbrain. This is a story of how it begins, progresses, and eventually ends.

Astarion x named F!Tav x Halsin

porn with (!) plot / character study, but through smut

18+, smut, threesome, double penetration, lots of dirty talk, what else... you know what, just refer to the AO3 tags, link below

In my headcanon, Halsin approaches both Asmodea and Astarion together, rather than just Asmodea alone.

This fic picks up their story where I left it in A Night at the Inn, and is a companion for Chapter 10 of Bloodbang Chronicles (in which Astarion is the one receiving - you can read that chapter as a standalone if you want). All three pieces are threesome smut.

Or, if you want more of Astarion's dynamic with Asmodea, check out Bloodbang Chronicles generally.

Anyway, enjoy!

Approx. 7.9k words

AO3

Each section break signifies a jump forward in time.

Of course the bloody druid was after her too - just about everyone else in this blasted group had been at one point or another. Astarion sighed inwardly as he observed the druid conversing with his lover.

Halsin hadn’t been with them long. He hadn’t mingled much with the rest of the group during the journey from the Emerald Grove, and then, on reaching the Shadowcursed Lands, he had stayed back at Last Light, having only rejoined them recently. 

But ever since, the druid had been giving Asmodea increasing amounts of attention. Even now, having just finished talking with her, Halsin's eyes trailed her as he drew on his pipe. 

Why should he be any different - just about everyone else had made some advances on their de facto ‘leader’ by then. Only Karlach had always stayed on friendly terms with her – Astarion had worried that might change after that blacksmith Dammon sorted her little tactile problem, but it appeared their bond had remained sister-like.

As for his own claim on the woman – it seemed he was widely disregarded as a rake. Taken for a temporary thing she and anyone else would discard without a moment’s hesitation, if anything more tangible came along. Never mind that his feelings had been growing each day, despite his efforts to the contrary. As had her own, towards him, unless he was blind.

Was she even aware of any of this..? She had to be.

As Astarion pondered this, Asmodea sat down next to him, pressing her thigh against his and leaning against him; as though just a small fragile thing seeking protection or warmth from him – despite the fact she barely needed the former anymore, and he couldn’t provide the latter. Still, it made for an excellent and obvious display for everyone around them. Without thinking, he pulled her against him by her waist, pressing his lips against her temple. 

She looked up at him, eyes twinkling in lighthearted glee. 

“I know,” she whispered, inclining her head slightly towards the druid.

“I know you know,” Astarion murmured back. Well, now he did, anyway.

“Good,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips and turning her attention to the food in front of her. 

Astarion glanced at Halsin, who sat across the fire. The druid met his gaze. Not in challenge, but rather with... open curiosity. The druid’s lips curled in a genuine smile, his eyes lingering on Astarion’s longer than generally acceptable.

…Oh. …Hah!

Astarion looked away, amused, smirking into his wine goblet. It seemed he had misread the druid, somewhat. Yes, he knew that look very well.

Godsdamned wood elves…

“Could you go ask Lae’zel for one of her training swords?” 

“Why?” 

“I’ll show you. ...But also I think she will be less inclined to murder me for wasting everyone’s time, if she’s curious about me needing a sword with my morning bath.” 

“She’ll have to murder me and Halsin first.” Astarion grumbled, but left the inn’s bathing room to retrieve the sword. 

Him and Halsin… A debaucherous night spent with both of them, lasting well into the morning. Astarion had mostly watched or directed her and Halsin, still not wanting to be touched himself, but it was, undoubtedly, the most they had done since before the night they had their heart to heart in the Shadowcursed Lands.

Halsin hesitated at the door.   

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of them, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” She knew the druid would have accepted whichever answer he was given, but she could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.

She exchanged a look with Astarion. It was he who finally spoke.   

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realise,” he said, with a grin. “But let’s talk about that later.”   

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving. 

What in the hells had they just started..? 

Astarion returned with the blunted practice weapon.

“Most of the others have gone out into the city. And you were right, the moment I asked Lae’zel for a sword, she swapped all murderous intent to curiosity.”

Asmodea took the sword and submerged most if it in the lukewarm water in the tub, channelling a Heat Metal spell through it.

“Old bard trick,” she explained to Astarion, waiting for the water to heat up. “So,” she added, looking up at Astarion. “Halsin.”

“Yes,” he said, thoughtfully. “Halsin.”

They exchanged and held equally incredulous looks, before breaking out into laughter.

“I told you he wanted both of us!” Asmodea exclaimed amid the tittering. “So… What do you think? Truly?” she asked once the laughter had died down a bit.

“It… It was certainly entertaining, sharing you with him,” Astarion snickered.

“And you..? Do you think you would be comfortable..? Being ‘shared’?”

“I’m not averse to the idea... But, for now, he might be more than I can handle.”

“...Well, with enough patience, determination and grease...”

“Why do I even like you...” Astarion muttered, heaving a massive, exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. “That is not how I meant that!” he exclaimed. “...Although that too, most likely.”

They broke into another fit of laughter.

“But I… I don’t see any harm in it. I think it could be good, even,” Astarion said, softly this time, once they had both calmed down. “What about you..?”

Astarion sat on the roof of the Elfsong, watching the streets below. He was most certainly not on the lookout for two figures - a slender one with a disarray of locs on her head, and a robust-looking one that would tower over the first. How long had they been gone now, anyway?

He sipped his wine, straight from the bottle. It was pleasant, but lacked the kick he had grown used to from adding blood to it. Wyll would have agreed to donate some, if he’d only asked, but he couldn’t bear to go downstairs and be seen by anyone. He knew what they were all thinking.

Asmodea and Halsin had been eager to explore whatever it was they had set in motion. As for Astarion, after the initial elation had subsided, he just wanted time to himself to think, and so he had all but shoved them out the door together. Halsin had made it abundantly clear he wanted to include Astarion. Astarion, in turn, assured them both that he was happy for them to spend some time alone that night. And Asmodea… Asmodea had been visibly conflicted, but listened to him in the end.

And now he was hiding out on the roof, not being in the mood to explain to anyone why his lover had suddenly taken off with another. They had tried to be discreet, but you couldn’t sneeze without everyone in camp knowing about it and making it their business, much less have a little… arrangement.

Was that all it was?

He probed at his own feelings as he swirled the wine in his mouth, and found them to be a nonsensical potpourri of jealousy, relief, doubt, giddiness, inadequacy, excitement, fear and hope. The emotions mixed and swirled, constantly replacing one another at the forefront of his mind.

Astarion found himself, once again, contemplating how he himself felt about the druid.

There was a physical attraction, certainly. But also an admiration. A certain peace and serenity was to be found in his company - something Astarion hadn’t felt in centuries. Astarion often found himself discarding all his usual masks with Halsin, disarmed by the druid’s own earnestness.

Above all, he felt safe.

What would it be like..? Having this… gentle giant, to share with Asmodea.

Sweet pondering thoughts switched abruptly to more mundane and grounded ones.

What were they doing now? Talking about him, perhaps? Resolving that he wasn’t necessary after all? Or maybe just happily fucking each other’s brains out, not giving him a single thought to begin with?

Was all this just a massive, stupid mistake?

Thoughts spiralling and racing, Astarion gulped down more of the wine. He could go for more of that herb, whatever it was, that Halsin had given him the other night, Astarion thought - he refused to believe it was really catnip. He surveyed the street below, again. How long could it possibly take?!

Karlach appeared on the roof, holding a bottle of her own by the neck.

Ah, here comes the envoy of the pity committee…

“Hey Fangs. You alright..? Do I need to knock some sense into anyone?”

“I’ll have you know, I had their invitation, and they had my blessing,” he all but snarled, choosing to cut straight to the point.

“Right, whatever,” she said, sitting down next to him. “You elves are fucking weird, you know.”

“Yes, well, after a few centuries you change your perspective on some trivialities,” he snapped.

Karlach only emitted a brief, bitter laugh.

…Shit.

Astarion belatedly realised she was the last person to whom he should have said anything about longevity or life expectancy. He turned to look at her. Her forehead, he now noticed, bore a sheen of perspiration despite the pleasantly cool weather, her breathing was more laboured than usual.

“How’s your engine?” he asked, softly.

“Shit,” she said, taking a swig from her bottle, and drawing her knees up against her chest.

Another nail for his proverbial coffin.

He reached out, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, letting her lean against himself. He didn’t know what to say, but this - this was close enough to what he had done countless times for drunk and newly single women seeking a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride on, before whisking them to their demise - though he truly meant the gesture this time.

“Saw an old friend of mine today,” Karlach said, quietly. “She’s having a baby. I told her I’d go see her once all this was over.” She sniffed, masking it as a chuckle. “Never going to happen, is it?”

Cazador’s presence still looming over him, tadpole still in his brain, his lover in another’s arms (at his own insistence, no less), AND he could lose his friend any day.

Astarion said nothing and rubbed her shoulder.

He lay in bed when Asmodea finally returned. She seemed hesitant, only giving him a worried look when she realised he was still awake. He wordlessly lifted the edge of the blanket in invitation. With some relief writ on her face, she joined him under the covers. She fidgeted, as though unsure just how to settle down, until he pulled her tightly against himself.

“Do you want to know..?” she asked.

He thought she would smell of the druid. Instead, she smelled like she just bathed.

“Not really,” he answered.

She snuggled against him as she would ordinarily, to go to sleep, but the silence between them was pregnant, and before long, she sighed and leaned away from him, reclining on her elbow.

“Star…”

Astarion opened his eyes and met her gaze.

Gods, but he didn’t want to talk about anything just then.

He pressed a finger to her lips, then stroked her face, gently, looking into her eyes. What was it he read in them..? Concern, maybe. Worry. Pleading? Was that… fear..?

Something twisted in his chest. He couldn’t bear to have her look at him like that.

He pulled her back against himself, pressing his lips against hers, as she melted into him, her tension beginning to dissipate. She wanted to say something, but he kissed her again and again, hands beginning to roam her. If only he could show her all his love... He caressed reassurance into her body, as he knew words would fail him now. Pulled her clothes off so he could feel her, all of her, and be felt. She did the same for him, also having given up on saying anything, turning instead to conveying her affection and longing through touch alone, just as they had done all that time ago, when their blossoming love for one another was still an open but unspoken secret.

But what had happened to this same body earlier..?

Even through the tenderness that had just overtaken him, he found that the thought intrigued him. His mind wandered to images of her writhing with the druid, coming undone in ecstasy, the way he had already witnessed them do earlier. The images caused a warm coil to tighten at the bottom of his stomach. How close were they to reality, he wondered.

As her clothes came off and her body wrapped around his, his fingers probed and sought evidence of her evening. Was she too tender? Too swollen? Did she seem sore? Was she bruised anywhere? The druid had been mindful of his proportions and movements in the night that they all shared together, but who knew, maybe Halsin lost his restraint and had simply healed any damage he had done after.

Perhaps he did want to know.

Lewd thoughts turned to outrage at the very idea that anyone might have possibly hurt what was his. Even if he willingly shared some part of her. She was his.

Astarion’s arms tightened around her, and he deepened his kiss, moaning into her mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair and whimpered, softly.

“Ugh, gross…” Astarion heard Karlach saying a few beds over. “Hey Gale… Gale!”

The wizard produced something between a snore and a disgruntled salutation, and cast a habitual sphere of silence around the pair’s bed, before presumably immediately falling back asleep somewhere beyond the privacy screens.

Astarion’s fingers slipped between Asmodea’s legs, earning him a moan as she spread wider for him. Wet, so wet. For him. As she should be.

He wanted to fuck her hard into the bed, lay his claim on her, but he didn’t want to be compared with the druid so soon after whatever had happened between him and her. Instead, he slipped his fingers inside her, twisting and curling them, digging into the sweet spot within her - where she told him no one before him had ever pleasured her properly. This was his and his only. He pressed his fingers into it rougher than usual, until she panted and whined. Had she made these same sounds for Halsin earlier this night?

“Gods… Please don’t stop,” she gasped.

“Oh I’m not stopping anytime soon, darling,” he whispered in her ear.

Perhaps sensing something different in his voice, she opened her eyes and looked up at him as he leaned over her, his fingers still working inside her.

“How many times did you come for him?”

“Ast-” she began.

“How many?” he asked again, punctuating his words by rolling her clit with his thumb.

She swallowed hard, her cunt already starting to pulse in little pre-orgasm contractions around his fingers.

“Twice,” she said, wetting her lips.

“Then you owe me three.”

He moved his hand faster, mercilessly building more and more pressure.

Mine… Before anyone else’s, mine. Not the druid’s. Not her bloody patron’s. Not the godsdamned Emperor’s. Not that devil’s. No one’s. Only mine.

Her moans were mounting, almost turning into screams. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows, stilling, looking into his eyes and accepting what he was giving her. Just as she threw her head back and released a desperate groan, he sank his fangs into her neck.

Mine, mine, mine, mine…

She came all over his hand, completely losing all control, legs shaking as he stroked her more gently through her orgasm, even as he drank from her.

He broke away from her neck, humming soothingly as she gasped and sobbed quietly in the aftershocks of her orgasm. He kissed up her neck until his lips were at her ear again.

“One.”

Astarion watched Asmodea and Karlach toppling over one another, laughing, as they swapped stories of living in Avernus and living on the road travelling inn to inn (which at times sounded to have been rougher than Avernus). Halsin shared their table. He had been nursing the same tankard of mead for the past few hours, Astarion noticed, probably having gotten the drink solely to avoid anyone else inevitably forcing one on him.

A semi-decent bardic troupe had taken stage, playing something raucous but catchy.

“Come on, Halsin, come dance with me!” Karlach offered.

“I’m afraid I have two left legs, and a bear’s grace besides,” he declined with a smile and firm shake of his head.

“Aww,” Karlach pouted. “What about you, Fangs? Dance with me?”

“Darling, you have to wine and dine me before you get to dance me, and I’ve been carrying your tab ever since we got to the city.”

“Please??”

“No.”

“Ever seen a cat on a leash?” Asmodea butted in. “When it just plops down on the ground and refuses to move, even as you drag it? That’s Astarion when he doesn’t want to do something,” she laughed. “Let’s go, I’ll dance with you.”

And just like that, Astarion found himself left alone at the table with Halsin.

“Perhaps something needs to be said,” Halsin remarked with a coy grin, once the silence stretched too long for comfort. If Astarion hadn’t known any better, he might even have thought that the druid was teasing him.

Oh for hells’ sake…

Without a word, Astarion turned towards the druid, grasped his face with both hands, and pulled him down to kiss him.

Somewhere in the back of Astarion’s mind, he thought that if he had been a poet, he would have said that the kiss tasted something like honey and the warmth of a hearth on a rainy night. But no, the kiss mostly tasted like Halsin’s tobacco mixture, with a subtle hint of the cheap mead he had been pretending to drink. By no means repugnant, but not earth-shattering either.

But then he was pulled against a broad chest by strong but gentle hands, his kiss returned with tender passion and reverence, and something inside him fluttered.

They had taken to sleeping together, tiring of the game of musical chairs when it came to the large bed at their disposal, and the necessity to continuously move their things around.

They hadn’t had another night as debauched as their very first one - a kind of subdued modesty had replaced open lust once feelings were laid bare, their lovemaking treated with delicacy.

It hadn’t yet been long since Astarion had begun allowing himself to fully indulge in sex again, and thus far it had only been with Asmodea, and only privately.

That night, they both happened to find themselves awake next to the sleeping druid. Unassuming embraces led to tender kisses, led to sensual touches, led to unabashed groping and stroking, until they became a tangle of limbs, giggling and shushing at each other, a sheet pulled over their heads as though it would hide or muffle anything they had been doing.

Astarion had been leaving a trail of kisses down Asmodea’s neck when she realised that the sheet was slowly but steadily slipping off to one side. She turned her now uncovered head to see Halsin tugging on the covers, until she and Astarion were laid completely bare before the druid.

Astarion glanced at the other elf but only went right back to kissing and caressing her, like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to do so before an audience.

Asmodea’s breath hitched as Astarion’s fingers, which had been playing with a nipple, slid lower, to stroke her slit, gliding with no resistance, spreading her slick.

“Hmm, already..?” he purred in her ear. “You like being watched, don’t you?” He grinned and continued to caress between her legs, dipping his fingers inside her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she said, innocently.

Astarion simply brought his fingers up to her mouth in response, letting her lick and suck her own juices off them, groaning softly. He continued to move his fingers in and out of her mouth, letting her suck and nibble on them.

“Should we show him more, my love?” he murmured, loud enough that he was sure that Halsin heard as well. “Should we show him how I make you come?”

An assenting hum had barely left Asmodea, when Astarion sat up between her legs, reaching to rub and slide his erection between her legs, coating it in her slick.

“My wanton minx… Always so eager,” he purred, before burying his cock inside her.

He plunged deep inside, but only gave her a few cursory thrusts, before leaning over her and beginning to roll his hips against her in hard, rhythmical, circular motions. He kept her stretched and full with his cock, but didn’t give her much inner friction, instead focusing the pressure on her clit. Persistent, knowing, unrelenting. But also gentle and loving. He could keep going like this as long as she needed - not that this ever took long.

Asmodea moaned and sighed in pleasure, the sensation gently but steadily bringing her closer and closer to her peak. She relaxed into it, beginning to pulse and squeeze around Astarion’s length before long, her moans building.

“That’s it, show him…” he purred. “Show him how you come on my cock.”

The sound of his voice brought her over the edge, melting helplessly under him in soft, keening moans. Only then did he really begin thrusting, perhaps being unable to withstand any more of this tease himself.

She doubted it had been much of a display, but the druid stirred next to them with a throaty groan,

“Beautiful…” he whispered.

Asmodea drew Astarion in a kiss, before rolling on top of him, dismounting, and kissing down his neck and torso towards his cock, rock-hard with his own unreleased need.

He breathed hard as she kissed and licked around it, perhaps not entirely unaffected by the presence of another in their bed either.

“Do you want me to do this,” she purred, regarding him from beneath her lashes, as she kissed the tender skin of his inner thighs, “or Halsin?”

Astarion hesitated, cock twitching in desperation to be pleasured by anyone.

“You,” he breathed, finally. She eagerly licked up his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head, and Astarion fell back against the pillows, shutting his eyes and tangling his fingers in her hair. “…This time,” he added.

It was Halsin’s decision to return to Reithwin after the fall of the Netherbrain. He sought to rebuild the city, gathering orphans, misfits and others who were displaced by the Absolute’s army. Astarion and Asmodea chose to go with him, not wanting to be separated, and not having any better ideas or plans besides.

It was a strange time in their lives. Elation at newfound freedom, mixed with the grief for the loss of Astarion’s ability to walk in the sun, and the overall uncertainty of their future. Neither were accustomed to what they had found themselves in.

Asmodea had returned to what she knew best, providing entertainment for the residents of the settlement. The children adored her, to her bemusement, bringing her small gifts: drawings, wreaths made of flowers that now grew throughout what used to be cursed and barren lands, beads they insisted she braid and tie into her hair.

Astarion in turn had been talked by Halsin into giving literacy and history lessons to the orphans. In part because there weren’t many others willing or able to do it, and in part, Asmodea suspected, simply to give him something to occupy himself with - he tried to hide it, but he had been miserable ever since the tadpole was removed from his brain along with all its benefits.

She walked in at the end of one such lesson, the makeshift classroom illuminated by candles and magelights, curtains and shutters drawn securely against the daylight.

“You’re very patient with them,” Asmodea noted with a smile, once the classroom cleared.

“I have an entire eternity to wait while they figure out the difference between ‘d’ and ‘b’,” Astarion sighed.

“Another group arrived today. Lots of kids. They’ll be joining these before long.”

“If they must,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “But can you do me a favour?” he asked. “No more teenage girls - someone else can deal with them. In fact, you take them.”

Asmodea lifted an eyebrow in question.

“They come in here, painted with rouge and charcoal, and try to make eyes at me instead of listening,” Astarion explained. “It’s disconcerting.”

The three lounged on a sofa in the house they had claimed for themselves. At one end, Halsin was busy with some ledgers that had been dumped on him - gods only knew why, he didn’t have a head for this kind of work. At the other, Astarion was likewise quietly busy with some novel, biding his time until the last rays of the sun hid. He would be out the door for a hunt the moment it was safe for him. Asmodea sprawled between them, her head on Astarion’s lap, her legs thrown over one of Halsin’s thighs.

Gods, but she was bored.

She regarded Halsin and the open misery written on his face as he tried to reconcile… What was it? Purchase orders of masonry and tools, against what had actually been recorded as delivered, against what had been charged.

Her bare foot slid between Halsin’s legs and pressed into his crotch, through his breeches.

“Could it be one of the missing hammers is here..?”

“Not now, my heart,” was his response.

She continued to lightly rub her foot against the bulge.

“Or is this one of the pillars..?”

“I must finish this before tomorrow,” he said, though he did not shift away from her, and had indeed begun to harden beneath her prodding.

“My, it’s erecting all by itself, why have we bothered to order any supplies at all when we have such marvels at hand?”

“You are truly testing my patience today,” he said in a low growl.

The ledger went flying across the room as she kicked it out of Halsin’s hands. The druid’s nostrils flared and he gave her a smouldering look.

“I warned you.”

She squealed as she found herself suddenly yanked by her leg down the sofa, off Astarion’s lap.

“Astarion!!” she laughed, reaching for him.

“No, no darling, you poked the bear and brought this upon yourself,” he said, unaffected, turning a page. “Now you must face the consequences.”

Halsin pulled her onto his own lap, flipping her onto her stomach, holding her down firmly with one hand, and pulling her pants down with the other.

“You brute! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she cried out, trying not to laugh.

Halsin, though a generous, attentive and passionate lover, was not ordinarily one for such games, and getting him into a state of mind for one was a rare treat.

A loud sound resonated through the room, as a smack landed on one of her ass cheeks.

“I am teaching you a lesson.”

It could have been much harder, the druid was holding back, as per usual.

“How dare you?! Release me at once, you savage,” she cried, her voice faltering on the last word, as Halsin delivered another smack.

Astarion shifted where he lounged, now watching them through lidded eyes.

“It’s no use, you know - you’re just throwing more oil on the flames.”

Asmodea gasped as Halsin’s hand slid between her legs, stroking her.

“You’re right. Should I cease?”

She struggled and kicked but remained securely restrained by the druid, his digits now slipping inside her rapidly moistening hole.

“Absolutely not. You must remain steadfast and determined. Perhaps double down on your efforts until you see a result.”

The hand between her legs left and delivered a series of blows on her rear, the slaps now having a sting to them. Asmodea moaned between each one.

She looked at Astarion with her best round-eyed pleading face. His own book had been discarded as well.

“Star? My love? My sweet? Are you just - ah! - going to let him do this to me?!”

“There there, my love… I’ll kiss it better once he’s done with you.”

They lay beneath the stars, bathed in moonlight, the night warm and serene. Asmodea’s head rested on Astarion’s shoulder, their fingers entwined.

“What is the difference between me and him, for you?” Astarion asked, softly. “In the way you feel about us?”

She paused to consider her words before responding.

“With you, I feel like I can take on the entire world. Like we could set it ablaze and stand atop a pile of rubble, holding hands and watching it all burn,” she answered, before growing quiet again for some moments.

“And with him, I feel like maybe the world doesn’t need to burn. ...Or if it does, no matter what, he would be an undisturbed, peaceful grove. A place where one would be protected and nourished. Where they could forget about everything outside. ...Only they couldn’t stay in that grove forever.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Astarion chuckled quietly. “I think I feel more or less the same way. It’s that, and…” he began to say something, but cut himself short, and shook his head, not finishing the sentence.

“And what?” Asmodea encouraged him, smiling. “Tell me!”

“It’s going to sound completely idiotic after what you just said,” he explained, before sighing and continuing, at her insistence. “…And sometimes, it… feels nice, for me, to be the small and delicate one,” he explained, coyly.

Halsin’s cock filled her, thrusting into her in short, rhythmic strokes - he was always so conscious of not hurting anyone, even when they wanted him to simply let go.

She arched her back, legs spread wide, ass raised to meet his hips, and bucked back into him wantonly, sliding on his length. Her back would hurt later, but for now she didn’t have a care in the world.

Astarion’s cock filled her mouth. She worked it with the rhythm of Halsin’s thrusts from behind her, keeping a hand firmly on the base of his shaft, in case any sudden surprises came from Halsin.

“Good girl…” groaned Astarion. “My good, dirty girl…”

“She’s like a wildcat in heat,” followed from Halsin, his voice heavy with lust.

She moaned at the praise and curved her back further, trying to open herself up even more, urging Halsin further, deeper.

He gripped her hips harder with one of his hands, continuing to thrust into her, and dragged the fingertips of the other along and up her ass cheek, until they brushed over her puckered hole.

She groaned around Astarion’s cock as Halsin’s thumb teased around the edge of her asshole, hoping he would do more, trying to buck and grind her hips against his cock and hand harder.

“Careful, it’s me she’ll bite if you make her too desperate,” warned Astarion.

Halsin applied more pressure, rubbing her hole, as she mewled and whined around Astarion’s cock, trying to continue sucking it, but losing any finesse or rhythm. It only made him gasp and bury his fingers in her hair, tugging on it and holding her in place, as he started to fuck her mouth himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” said Halsin. Fucking hilarious, she thought, considering the things that were happening to her mouth at that moment. Well, they did have other ways of communicating set in place, for just this type of situation.

“She doesn’t want you to stop one bit,” purred Astarion. “Do you, pet?” He tugged on her hair and tilted her head, keeping his cock deep in her mouth. “Look at me,” he whispered. She met his eyes as he continued to slide his cock between her lips. His pupils were blown with lust and want. “Do you like what he’s doing?”

Asmodea could only hum in assent. The pressure from Halsin’s finger told her he was just on the cusp of dipping inside, and it was driving her mad.

“Think your tight little hole is ready for more today..?” Astarion purred, stroking her face as he fucked it. “Tell me.”

His dick slipped out of her mouth.

“Yes, for hells’ sake,” she gasped.

But, to her dismay, the druid slid out of her entirely, leaving her frustrated and empty. Before she could react, Astarion lifted her up on her knees from her position on all fours, and kissed her, caressing and teasing her tongue with his own.

“Do you want to try something new with us?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her own, before leaning away.

Off to her side, Halsin had laid on his back, lazily stroking his cock, which had remained at full mast for her. He beckoned her with his free hand, and, released by Astarion, she crawled on top of him. She wanted to taste him then, but he kept leading her up, until their hips were level, and then impatiently plunged back inside her.

Astarion’s arm wrapped around her from behind, and brought her back up into a sitting position on Halsin’s cock. He kissed and nibbled on her neck as the druid thrusted shallowly inside her. 

Had they orchestrated this..?

“Hmm,” Asmodea hummed, with a sly smile. “What was that about tight holes?”

“Oh, this?” Astarion said, distractedly, sliding his fingers along her hip and the cleft of her ass until it reached her asshole and rubbed, teasing. “Why, is there something you want me to do with it..?”

She nearly hissed at him for his gloating, but Halsin chose that moment to pinch one of her nipples, and the noise that came out of her instead was closer to a whimper.

“You’re the one who said something about… wanting to try something new.” she managed, as Astarion continued to rub her hole, smirking. “So what is it?”

“Guess,” he purred against the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Astarion had fucked her ass before. He wasn’t the first person she’d tried that with, but he was the one who managed to teach her to actually enjoy it. It wouldn’t be that, not exactly, but given Halsin’s presence and their obvious smugness - even Halsin appeared cocksure and brash…

“Are you both going to fuck me at once?” she grinned, biting her lip.

“Do you want us to?” he asked, his voice pure velvet. “Say it.”

Gods, this fucking man... Fine, two could play this game. Three, if Halsin was in the mood to go along with it - he usually wasn’t vocal, a contrast to Astarion, who simply wouldn’t ever shut up.

She leaned back, twisting and grinding hard against Halsin, and caught Astarion’s earlobe between her teeth, nipping at it, before murmuring back to him.

“I want to feel both of you, at once, fucking me, filling me. Now will you stop dallying? I want you inside me.”

Astarion let out what sounded like an involuntary groan, but before Asmodea could claim moral victory, she found herself thrown against Halsin’s chest, still stuffed with his cock, ass up.

“Inside you..? Where? Here?” Astarion asked, innocently, just before crouching down to tongue her asshole.

She gasped and laughed, squirming at the sudden sensation. But at last, it appeared Astarion had had enough of teasing her, as he retrieved a vial of oil, and hastily but generously coated his fingers with it, spreading it over her puckered hole as well.

She ground lightly against Halsin as Astarion inserted one finger, and then, at her obvious ease and eagerness, another. The druid was holding her down, not giving her much friction, and she mewled in protest at being restrained so.

“I thought you’d like that…” Astarion breathed in her ear. “More..?”

His fingers were a teasing promise of everything he was about to do to her, and she found she simply could not wait, and could not allow Astarion to find any reason to keep holding back.

“Please…” she begged.

“Please what?” he rasped.

“Please fuck me.”

She heard his breath hitch at her pleading. His fingers slipped out, and moments later, at last, she felt the tip of his cock against her entrance, slowly but insistently pushing its way in. She gasped as the sensation became overwhelming. There was no possible way that she could fit a single millimetre more of him, couldn’t be stretched even a hair’s width wider - and yet he kept going, cooing at her wide-eyed whimpers, until he filled her completely, pressing his chest against her back.

“Well look at you, filled to the brim with elf cock…” Astarion’s taunt didn’t carry its usual edge, given the way his voice trembled. 

“I think she’s earned a little reward for that,” said Halsin, reaching up to cup and tenderly caress her breasts.

“I think so too,” said Astarion.

Astarion’s fingers, still covered in some of the oil, snaked down her stomach to her clit, and began drawing circles around it. Asmodea shut her eyes and threw her head back against Astarion’s shoulder, moaning.

The sensation, starting off as a building warmth, quickly grew more intense as his fingers sped up, gliding over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips began to twitch, but were held down securely by Halsin, as he started to thrust up into her.

“This is your reward for being such a good girl,” Astarion whispered in her ear, his fingers now flicking her clit quickly.

She was caught off-guard by how quickly an orgasm overtook her, suddenly finding herself melting, helplessly pulsing and clenching around the hard lengths inside her. The sheer force of it had both Astarion and Halsin groaning and gasping, in short order.

“Gods… We have to make her do that again,” laughed Astarion.

“You’ve read my mind,” the druid said in agreement.

They both began to thrust into her, gently but persistently, rhythmically, and all she could do was pant and whimper at the stretch of both their cocks inside her, even as they talked around her.

“She’s so incredibly tight like this,” Astarion groaned. He paused, briefly, with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “I can feel you through her,” he gasped. “I can feel you thrusting.”

“Can you..?” Halsin rasped, and sped up, gripping her hips tightly, making both Asmodea and Astarion pant. Astarion swore through his teeth and picked up his own pace, unable to hold back any longer.

Asmodea found herself thrown atop the druid’s chest once again, as her lovers lost their reserve and began fucking her vigorously.

Good, it felt so fucking good, this intense pounding in both her holes, and she tried to voice as much, knowing how much Astarion loved it when she talked or praised him during their lovemaking, but any words she tried to say came out as unintelligible babbling.

It was a wonder how easily they’d found this maddening rhythm, working seamlessly to bring her and each other over the edge with their thrusting - but she supposed they had a combined 500 years of experience on her, at least.

She gave up on trying to say anything and simply moaned into Halsin’s neck.

“Is our little vixen going to come for us again..?” Astarion had crouched over her, keeping her sandwiched between himself and Halsin.

Her clit was pressed tightly against Halsin’s pelvis, and between that, the way the head of his impressive cock dragged against all her most sensitive parts with each thrust, as well as the sensation of Astarion’s hips mercilessly snapping against her ass, burying himself in her again and again, another orgasm began to wash over her.

Feeling her walls throb, nearing another climax, the elves also lost all control, chasing their own release within her body with reckless abandon. Her world became nought but bucking hips and the sound of grunts and smacking flesh. She could no longer tell where her body ended and theirs began. Her legs shook as everything between them convulsed in shockwaves resonating through her entire body. Astarion bit down on her shoulder with a strangled groan just as Halsin gave her a final hard thrust with an animalistic growl.

Asmodea’s vision blurred, and she must have passed for some moments, as she came to, to find that the frantic pounding had once again been replaced by gentle rocking, as final orgasmic aftershocks were ridden out.

Astarion slipped out of her first, leaving a trail of tender kisses down her shoulders and back, as Halsin simply embraced her, pressing his lips against the crown of her head, while she continued to lie on his chest.

“Did you like that, darling?” Astarion whispered, as though he had any doubt about the answer.

“Uh-huh,” she managed, remaining on top of Halsin as Astarion got up, somewhat shaky, in search of a towel.

“Are you well, my heart?” Halsin murmured to her.

“Yep,” she susurrated. “I’m just going to stay right here for now - I don’t think my legs are willing to listen to me yet.”

The druid chuckled and held her closer.

A bead of sweat rolled from Halsin’s forehead, down his nose, and dropped right into Asmodea’s eye.

She blinked and rubbed at it, trying to do it quickly, without drawing any attention to it, so it wouldn’t break the mood. It wasn’t a big deal, but gods was it irritating when it happened... …Gah, she had been so close, too.

The sex was great, truly, but this - the godsdamned sweat - was an area where Astarion won by a landslide - his body being much cooler, he simply did not perspire anywhere near as much as Halsin. His body would heat up from exertion, or from absorbing the warmth of his surroundings, but it was rare for his skin to even grow damp. Meanwhile, a prolonged cuddle session with Halsin, not to mention laying with him, inevitably ended with Asmodea lying or sliding in a puddle. 

Astarion didn’t mind the heat radiating from the druid, and in fact preferred to wrap himself around Halsin when sleeping, but not possessing his own body heat, this only served to cool the druid down. Asmodea could not boast the same.

A multitude of other little things that once seemed endearing had begun to grate on her nerves as well, of late.

Halsin’s insistence on the orphans being welcome to run rampant through their home, including when she just wanted some peace and quiet. The ever-present aroma of tobacco - she enjoyed it when it was fresh, but after living together it seemed to permeate everything, including all of her possessions. The silent but disapproving sadness in his eyes when he brewed her fertility suppressant teas. The way he always forgot that the automatic pens did not need to be dipped in ink, or his blatant refusal to believe that their wall clock was accurate and reliable, instead opting to judge the time of day by the position of the moon or sun.

Astarion didn’t seem to mind most of that. In fact, his connection with the druid had only grown since their little triad had become official.

At wasn’t as sexual for the two of them – that aspect had always seemed to mostly hinge on Asmodea’s presence. Rather, they took on roles not unlike an old married couple’s - not necessarily approving of, but being resigned to each other’s routines and ways, and finding a quiet comfort in each other’s company.

And a comfort there was, for all of them. Serenity in their closeness. The pleasure of long, fascinating conversations about anything and everything, held over cozy nights. The simple security of being with those who would never cause harm or disrespect (unless they were asked to very nicely, anyway). The sheer strength of sexual attraction. Even if, for Asmodea, it all had never held quite the same spark as it had with Astarion. The same desperate need to love and be loved, needing the other the way one needed air. That part of her had always been Astarion’s.

Though Astarion hadn’t voiced any complaints about the druid, he had taken to frequently grumbling about their surroundings, saying his blades and wits had been growing dull. 

He had been losing his mind from boredom. Being confined within a small settlement grated on him. Though reluctantly accepted by the residents, he was viewed as an oddity and was generally avoided. In turn, he was completely disinterested in the town’s affairs and its success. The teaching had become a joyless chore. He was stagnating.

Asmodea lay contemplating all of this in his arms later that morning, once Halsin had gotten up for the day. Increasingly, these thoughts wouldn’t leave her mind. Instead, they had become a constant haunting presence.

“Is everything okay..?” came a murmur from Astarion.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s just… I think…” She hesitated, not knowing how to even begin putting any of it into words.

“You’re no longer happy,” Astarion said quietly.

“Mmhmm,” was all she managed, suddenly finding herself choked up.

Astarion went silent for a short while, before speaking.

“Is it me?” he asked. “Please just be honest.”

“What? No! It’s just… It’s the…” she paused, sighing, before words began spilling out of her. “Halsin, for instance. He’s just so damned good. And so certain in his knowledge, so set in his ways, so adamant about everything he feels needs to be done… And he’s so damned patient, too.”

“All his virtues are an absolute travesty, yes.”

“And in his patience,” Asmodea continued, “he makes me feel like I’m a child that he’s waiting to grow up. And I won’t. Because I’m not. …Does that make sense? ...Fuck, I don’t even know where I’m going with this. And then there’s all this,” she said, gesturing around them, “it was always his. It never became mine, or yours, I don’t think.”

“No,” Astarion whispered.

“I think… I think I just don’t want to be here, and as long as I stay here, I feel like no matter what I do, I’m being unfair to him, or to you, or to both. I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes watered. “I only know how not to be unfair to myself, and that means leaving,” she whispered.

“It’s not working anymore, is it, darling?” Astarion said, giving her a sad smile that made her heart clench.

“You can stay here, if you want,” she said, uselessly. “I can see how close you are.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I want to stay here, much less stay here without you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him.

“Where to, then? Back to Baldur’s Gate..?” he asked.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes.

“I think that’s the best option. It’s not that far, we could always write and visit.”

“We could,” said Astarion.

“I’ve had enough of tramping around, I want a place of my own, without any screaming children. And with proper walls. Locked doors. And plumbing.”

Astarion chuckled.

“And whatever shall we do in Baldur’s Gate, besides anything we damn well please?”

“I’ve been thinking about that… We could see just how far our ‘hero’ status can take us, capitalise on that…” Asmodea said, beginning to relax.

“And then? You’re grinning like you already have a plan.”

“More a dream than a plan. Promise not to laugh?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. So I’ve always wanted to open and run my own theatre...”

~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, check out A Night at the Inn and Bloodbang Chronicles!

Find the fic on AO3 as well.

Series masterlist

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo @twirlywhirlywriting

[zenlesszonezero]

As the conspiracy reaches its finale, the Void Hunter joins the fight.

Uncover the Conspiracy in Zenless Zone Zero's All-New Version "A Storm of Falling Stars", S-Rank Agent Hoshimi Miyabi is here! With S-Rank Agent Asaba Harumasa Limited-Time Giveaway! Pre-register to obtain additional rewards.

[starlessea2]

The Dawn Watch (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: As dawn breaks the morning after the tiefling party, you find a vampire basking in the sun. In the daylight, all of his pretty words start to unravel. (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N After a week of feverishly playing (and completing) BG3, here's my first Astarion writing. Part 1/3 of a WIP mini-series called the Sunlight Chronicles.

Masterlist

Sunlight was warm on your eyes. It coaxed them open and made you blink: once hard, twice fast. Your lids were heavy, yet you could hardly remember closing them in the first place. Neither could you recall dozing off in a pile of leaves. 

As you pressed yourself into the ground, the forest floor rustled beneath you. A cacophony of dried foliage and bark, made somewhat comfortable by the mossy overgrowth. It took you a moment to understand your surroundings.

The tiefling party had bustled on into the early hours. It was the first reprieve you’d allowed yourself since being plucked from Baldur’s Gate and thrust into this new adventure. But, perhaps you had overindulged… 

There was a fire in your belly still, laden with mead and lingerings of lust, and it had led you here: stark-naked and alone on the outskirts of camp. 

A chuckle sounded behind you. “I was starting to wonder whether I’d drank you dry.”

You sprung up to your elbows. Not alone, you suddenly remembered.

Your head whipped around, settling on the figure bathed in the light of the low sun. “But alas, you were just making good on that beauty sleep. Morning, pet.” 

Rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, you found Astarion. He was radiant. Rays of dawn had snuck through the trees, dappling between branches onto his pale skin. And his hair... Caught in that glow, it looked like leftover starlight. 

The only thing letting him down was his smile. It was utterly charming, as always. But it was more obvious in the daytime; that smile was well-practised.

“Umm, good morning,” you eventually croaked back.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, too nervous to wander over his body. He noticed, of course, and so he paced before you—a small strut, hands on his hips to invite your appraisal.

You looked away. Even in the warmth of the sun, you could feel the man’s contribution to your cheeks. It incited a laugh from him. 

“Oh now don’t pretend to be coy, my sweet,” he said. “Not when there was hardly any of that last night.”

You turned your head; any liquid courage you’d gotten from the party had long since worn off. But now sober, Astarion made your heart ache. His falsity was clear as day. He uttered the words you so desperately wanted to hear, but delivered them on the back of a deceitful voice. 

A sigh escaped you; perhaps the only time he hadn’t lied was when he’d called you naive. 

Awaiting your reply, Astarion became indignant. "What?" he asked. "Disappointed at the lack of morning cuddle? If you ask nicely, perhaps I’ll come back to join—”

"No," you said. "I just..." His eyes watched your every move, red and calculating. You took a moment to collect yourself. "I'm surprised that you stayed at all," you admitted. "Didn't take you for the type." 

His hand fell over his chest. "Oh, how you wound me! I try to do the gentlemanly thing, and yet you accuse me and look at me like that."

You cocked a brow. "Like what?"

Astarion let out an exasperated sigh. "Let’s just say it’s easier to know what you're thinking when your eyes are shut.” He made a face, mortifyingly reminiscent of one you’d likely pulled the night before, and your mouth fell ajar.

If you’d been wearing shoes, you would have hurled one at him. But embarassed and barefoot, you instead dug your palms into the soil, more than ready to depart.

Astarion was roused into action. "Oh come on, my dear," he said softly. He sunk to the floor beside you, coaxing you to stay. "All in good fun."

You deliberated for a moment, watching him in your peripheral. There was a smile on his face but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, a pang of hurt made itself known. You quickly squashed it down, hoping Astarion had not noticed it in his.

Whatever feelings had bubbled over last night were absent this morning, you could just tell. Perhaps he no longer found you interesting now that he'd conquered you. Maybe he'd pursued you just to break your heart, or gods forbid, he'd been put off after sleeping with you—

“It’s just so warm.”

The words left Astarion, quiet as a whisper. But then his eyes widened and his lips formed a taut line—as though they'd never intended to let anything escape at all.

"What?" you started. But with one small glance at the man, you realised; he was talking about the sun.

For a moment, you watched him, basking in the glow like there was no place he'd rather be. You hummed in agreement. “I guess it’s something we all take for granted here.” 

He nodded. It became obvious then; he hadn’t stayed for you, but for the sunrise.  

“Astarion, I–”

He snapped his head. The look in his eyes cautioned you—told you the two of you weren’t that close. But something behind that almost dared you to try.

Against your better judgement, you proceeded. “You might have already guessed, but I’m no early riser." A chuckle instinctively followed. “I know Lae’zel told us not to question the shifts she allocated, but..." you paused, "who wants to take watch at the crack of dawn? Certainly not me.”

It was silent for a moment—save for the soft lilting of birds and the occasional breeze. Yet even then, the morning dawned so quiet that your breaths felt loud.

It took a few seconds for Astarion to reanimate, but when he did, it was with a smile. “Oh, my dear... If you’re struggling that badly, you could’ve just said." He sat up, readjusting to meet you straight on. “It’s not a bother swapping with you—if the night shift is more to your taste.”

Your heart felt warm. Truthfully, you liked the dawn watch, but you had a feeling it would be better appreciated by him. “That would be wonderful, thank you."

You had an inkling that Astarion recognised your ploy, but but if did, he wasn’t making a show of it. His hand wove its way into yours, and pressed it into forest bed. “My pleasure," he said. Then he leaned forward with a grin.

You anticipated a kiss, but he stopped before your neck, tracing the bloody bruise he'd bestowed with his lips—worrying last night's sore between his teeth. “It's the least I can do...”

As he mumbled against your skin, a shiver sparked through your shared connection.

“I’ll be more gentle next time." His breath fanned hot over your ear. “Both ways.”

You let out a gasp. "It's okay, we don’t have to—” The words ejected from you, all flustered and not at all how you pictured them.

Astarion offered a smirk in return, but it was accompanied by an expression you now recognised.

He thought you naive.

“Precious,” he said beneath his breath, before returning your crumpled dress to you. “Now come. We best not keep the others waiting.”

And so you followed his lead and quickly dressed: smoothing your hair and attempting to rid your cheeks of their flush.

If anyone asked, you'd say you were sun-kissed.

[that-butch-archivist]

"Tess was a performance artist and part-time jewelry maker who now worked as a set designer. [...] The first night we spent together, I taught her to knit — my classic seduction technique (High Femme Camp Antics, or HFCA) — and about frisson, that carbonated feeling that accompanies a crush. We stared at each other for a long time, unblinking. Because I knew that this otherwise might take forever (lesbians!), I finally asked Tess point-blank if she felt a frisson for me (HFCA). In response, Tess kissed me hard, with teeth. I knew she wanted to fuck, but I pushed her hands away dramatically when they crept under my skirt (HFCA). I told her that I didn’t typically sleep with people so soon (HFCA), which was true not for any real reason but because I was privately humiliated by my body (HFCA). Instead of letting her fuck me, I scratched Tess’s entire torso with my long, pink fingernails (HFCA). “Her fingernails drifted down my neck, across my shoulders,” Jess Goldberg, the butch narrator of Stone Butch Blues, says of a high femme whose camp antics thrill her. “I’d forgotten the sheer pleasure of a high femme tease.” “Your fingernails are full of frisson,” Tess said as morning light began to stream in through the window above her bed. “I know,” I said. I recently read a collection of funny stories by Lesléa Newman, high-femme chronicler of dyke life in the 1990s (the materialistic, shopping-addicted Golden Age of HFCA). In one story, a butch named Flash arrives to pick Lesléa up and take her out to dinner. Flash politely tells Lesléa that she looks nice. “The average femme would have taken that to be a compliment,” Lesléa dishes. “But this high-maintenance femme hadn’t spent the last two weeks shopping for the perfect outfit and the last seven hours bathing, shaving, bleaching, filing, polishing, combing, brushing, drying, moussing, spritzing, spraying, and applying five pounds of makeup to have all her efforts summed up in one little four-letter word.” Flash’s flimsy compliment doesn’t satisfy Lesléa’s desires to be seen, appreciated, and worshiped, and so Lesléa starts from the bottom and works her way up, prompting Flash to compliment her shoes, her miniskirt, and finally her hair in a grand, shimmering pyramid of HFCA. But even as she performs satiation, Lesléa is insatiable. Her antics fail at getting her precisely what she wants from Flash, because there’s always something unsatisfying about getting what you want by asking for it. Lesléa’s desire glows from within the frame of her HFCA, distilled and exposed and unmet. Can I Come Inside, my high-femme sex game, deals primarily with unmet, outsourced, and circumnavigated desire. In Females (2019), trans lesbian critic Andrea Long Chu argues that femaleness is a universal, existential condition rather than a gender or a sex — a condition of being and of consciousness that involves letting others do our desiring for us. At stake in Can I Come Inside, as well as in HFCA at large, is a femaleness that both craves and rebels against its tendency to outsource desire. In playing Can I Come Inside, I, like Lesléa, ask Tess to do my desiring for me, and Tess in turn defers her desire to me: the game is strictly my desire, one that she insists she does not share. Even though it mandates a performance of aggressive desire from Tess, there’s no doubt that Can I Come Inside is about my desire; it’s my game; I make the rules."

-- An excerpt from "High Femme Camp Antics," an essay written by Jenny Fran Davis. (Emphasis in bold my own.)

[schoenpepper]

Like Raven Feathers

Intro: Riddle does something against the rules. And because of that, he'll fall from Heaven, oh he'll fall, just for you.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, Riddle's mom is mentioned, lots of religious whatever, bro's a simp through and through

A/N: Lookie what I whipped up with a random dose of motivation. Riddle's not even in my top five faves so I'm not sure why the first full fic I'll ever post is one about him. This has no effect on my Isekai'd Chronicles series update schedule, but it does share the same universe so go check it out if you're confused.

Masterlist

Riddle has always lived his life by the Bible of the Church of Light. Every movement is according to scripture, and every choice is made under the guidance of his mother, the Saintess. Since she has the highest authority in Heaven and is the angel closest to the God of Light, surely she's correct in all that she does. Surely he's correct to follow her. He would keep his wings pure and abide by every rule; no one likes a fallen acolyte of Light.

In this little circle, he's safe.

He wakes up at sunrise every day and prays. He does as is taught to him: give his thanks for every blessing and apologize for every failure, for every sin, and for every wrong he's committed. Most days, he doesn't know why he's begging for forgiveness. Today, he does. "Forgive me, oh Lord of Light," Riddle mumbles piously under his breath. "I have done something unbecoming of your servant. I have developed…feelings, for a mortal nonetheless. I have given away the love that rightfully belongs to you. Please have mercy and forgive this poor soul."

He never says a word about repenting.

After ten minutes of prayer, he makes his bed, takes a bath, straightens out his feathers, and brushes his teeth. Then it's time to double-check all the items he needs for classes and ensure that he's done all the assignments necessary for each day. He has breakfast with the rest of his dormitory members after giving thanks to his Lord for the food. There's another prayer after eating.

Another careless apology leaves his lips.

Classes go by far too slowly for his liking. When he sits at the cafeteria for lunch, his blue-gray eyes search for the mortal that's been in his mind for far too long, far too often. They light up when he finds you.

There's you beyond his circle, just out of reach.

Riddle isn't shy when he asks you to spend lunch with him. When you agree with a smile, his heart seems to beat faster than before. Too fast for his brain to keep up with. He's short of breath around you; you make him unable to even think. He's like an electronic toy short-circuiting in water. That's what you are, after all—strange, unfamiliar territory he isn't allowed to traverse. But even the first angels fell to temptation, so who is he to be the exception?

You're the sweetest forbidden fruit.

He has to go back to class eventually, but he hates that he does. That's weird, that's wrong; he's Riddle Rosehearts, and studies should be his priority after his God. But his hand is out of his control when he doodles little hearts on the border of his notebook (why would he do that? It's so childish, so immature.).

After class, he sends you a text to ask you to study with him in the library. Alone, preferably, because your friends always raise a ruckus (that's the excuse he tells you and himself). He feels content, happy, when you show up by yourself. The two of you sit across from each other, and he reviews topics for you that he still remembers clearly from his first year. Riddle finds it fun. Perhaps some would call it tedious, but he thinks that you're a worthy use of his time. He gets paid by the way you pout when you're struggling with a question. He feels fulfilled when you smile that bright smile, all teeth showing, eyes squinted into crescents, when you claim to finally understand something you've been struggling with for a while. He thinks he can die happy in your arms when you hug him in excitement and thank him for tutoring you.

You trespass into his little circle.

He packs up too soon because you have some commitment with some other person; he's alone in the library now. He sees the way other people look at you. You're just so uniquely you; he understands they want you the way he does. It doesn't mean he'll relent his efforts to snake his way into your heart. You're something he desperately wants, needs, even.

He's envious of the way other people make you laugh. Riddle's never been the humorous type (do you like that type better?). He's too strict, too strait-laced. Maybe you don't think he's fun, or cool, or interesting. Do you even think of him at all?

He still can't touch you.

When he's back at the dorm, he spends the rest of his time buried in his assignments. Perhaps getting you off his mind is the best thing he can do today. He's unproductive when you're the only thing on his mind, so he buries you underneath mountains of schoolwork.

Why can't he reach you?

He lays in bed after another prayer. The same apology is said. He can't even bother to change it. At some point, he'll stop asking for forgiveness. Some time in the future, he'll only confess his love for you in his daily prayers without being sorry for it. Falling in love with a mortal is wrong. Praying insincerely is wrong. But you, you, oh, you're everything that's right in this sinful world. His mother will never understand him.

But the God of Light will.

Because he doesn't even know when it started, but you've become his light. He fears for the darkness that will swallow him when you're gone.

Don't choose someone else. Don't find someone else. Don't love someone else.

He'll leave his circle on his own.

And when the angel falls, he'll make sure he goes out with the most glorious fireworks.

With you.

[soloroomies]

You, Across The Street | (a Suna Rintarou fic)

・❥・Chapter one; Year One (A Crossed Path)

synopsis: At the age of five, you met the neighbor boy who lived just across the street, Suna Rintarou. As the years unfold, this story will chronicle the evolution of your friendship, year by year. But as life moves on and paths diverge, will it blossom into something more? Or will it remain a cherished bond between two childhood friends? “The lines between friendship and love often blur when you’ve known someone your entire life."

word count. 1.9k cw. childhood friends au, slow burn a/n. here we go the first chapter!! hope you all enjoy this!<3

Masterlist

You were five years old when your parents decided to move to a house closer to your father’s office. The warm summer sun bathed everything in a golden glow, and your sparkling eyes eagerly took in the new neighborhood through the opened car’s window. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, adding to the homely feel of this new place. As you spotted a playground, a surge of excitement rushed through your tiny body. You bounced up and down in the car seat, pointing at the playground as the car passed it. Your mom turned her head from the driver’s seat, her smile as warm and bright as the morning itself. “You can play there tomorrow, honey. Today, we’ll tidy up our house and greet the neighbors.” You nodded enthusiastically.

The new house was bigger than your previous one. A small garden immediately caught your eye. The shrubs were neatly trimmed, the flowers came in different colors, and there was a small pond with fish. Your mother held your hand as you entered the house. Most of the stuff was already organized, with only a few boxes left to unpack. Your father picked them up from the car, which thankfully wasn't much.

Delighted, you ran around excitedly, exploring each room. But then, your mother called you over to the kitchen. You huffed as you walked to her, slouching and stomping your feet deliberately.

She was wrapping the daifuku your family would give to the neighbors as an introduction. She moved to a lower table in the living room so you could sit next to her and help. “Be nice and make new friends here, okay?” You frowned. “Why?” She smiled and pinched your cheek. 

“Well, I think we will be here for a long time.” 

“And when you have new friends, you can introduce them to your baby sis too!” said your mother, placing her hand on her round belly. 

She was nearing the end of her second trimester, and you were amazed at how her belly grew bigger each day. The idea of a little human coming out of your mother’s body fascinated you. She had explained that you were once in her belly too, which you found hard to believe. But how else could you be here? You couldn’t wait for your ‘baby sis’ to come out and prove it.

You clapped your hands. “Okay, Mama! I will invite baby sis to play with my new friends! Does that mean baby sis will come out soon?” 

Your mother laughed, “Yes, honey.”

As your father finished organizing the last box, you and your mother also finished wrapping up the gift. You all rested and warmed up to the new house. When the sun was set, you dressed up to introduce yourselves to the neighborhood. Your mother reminded you again  to behave just before you left. Frowning, you replied, “But I always behave, Mama!” 

“Sure you do, and I want you to keep it up,” she said with a smile.

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This was the third house you visited, located directly in front of your own. The two previous houses were the ones directly to your left and right. The night air had turned chilly, making you pull your jacket tighter around you. This house also had a garden, with a pond slightly larger than yours, though adorned with fewer flowers. The building was painted a muted brown, blending into the shadows of the evening. You were still observing your surroundings when a lady opened the door after your father rang the bell, the warm light from inside spilling out and casting a welcoming glow on the doorstep.

She smiled warmly at your family, and you noticed her belly was rounded like your mother’s. “Mama, she has a belly like you!” you exclaimed excitedly, pointing at her. 

Your mother was about to scold you for being rude but was interrupted by the lady. “Oh my, you’re the new neighbors right in front of us! Please come in!” she beamed. 

Inside, your family was greeted by the lady’s husband. As your mother placed the gift on the coffee table, they invited you to stay for a chat.

They introduced themselves to your family. The lady's name was Yuuko and her husband’s name was Makoto, with Suna as their surname. It turned out that Yuuko was indeed pregnant like your mother, and they had close due dates, which made them bond instantly. Makoto then announced he wanted to introduce someone to you. Your ears perked up. Who could it be? You looked at your parents, who smiled back at you. “Looks like you’ll have a new friend,” your mother said. You jumped to your feet, excited. Finally, a friend! The other two houses didn’t have kids your age, only older ones. The prospect of having a friend your age made you brighten up instantly.

As Makoto returned to the living room, he held a boy by his shoulders. He looked about your age, his expression stoic but his eyes beautiful and narrow. Looks like his mother, you thought. They stopped in front of you, who grinned happily. Usually, you weren’t confident with your peers, but the excitement of moving into a new house and your mother’s earlier encouragement made you feel braver. You stretched out your hand to introduce yourself. He looked at your hand for a while, unsure of what to do. His father was about to guide him when you abruptly took his hand and shook it enthusiastically. “This is how you introduce yourself to a friend!” you exclaimed. 

Confused, he stared at your joined hands. “A friend?” he asked. 

“Yes! I’m ___ and I will be your new friend!” you sang, still shaking his hand. 

He looked at his father, then back at you. “Okay. I’m Suna Rintarou. I’ve never had a friend,” he mumbled. 

You made an O with your mouth. “I’m so happy to be your first friend, then!”

After that, all of you gathered in the living room, chatting about the preschool you would soon attend. You bounced on your seat when you learned that Suna Rintarou went there too. He would be your school friend! You glanced at him happily. It seemed your mother was right; this place would be your home for a long time. Perhaps, this stoic boy would become more than just a schoolmate���maybe, just maybe, he would become your best friend. Your heart swelled with anticipation, and a smile spread across your face.

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It's been around two months since you moved in, and you found yourself adapting seamlessly to the new environment. Every morning, your mother would wake you up around 7 to take a shower and get dressed for preschool. You'd see your father briefly in the genkan, waving at him before he left for work. Then, you’d have breakfast at the kitchen table while your mother prepared your lunchbox.

An arrangement had been made between your mother and Yuuko. Yuuko would take you and Rintarou to preschool in the morning, while your mother would pick you both up afterward. Yuuko, like her husband, was an office worker, but her workday started later than usual, making her perfectly suited to drop you both off before heading to work. Your mother, a housewife, stayed at home most of the time, making it easy for her to pick you both up from preschool before the typical workday ended. The two women had grown close, their personalities clicking effortlessly. They were around the same age, had kids the same age (you and Rintarou, and also the soon-to-be-born children in their bellies).

Today was like any other day. Your mother took you to the Suna house, crossing the street. As you walked, the cooler temperatures of late autumn greeted you with a refreshing chill. Your mother had you wear a scarf to keep warm.

After ringing the bell once, the door opened quickly, revealing little Rintarou, already dressed to go. “Hello, Rin!” your mother cheered at him. “Where is your mother?”

“She’s upstairs, picking something,” he said, pointing inside the house.

“Well, I’ll leave ___ here then. Thank you!” Rintarou nodded at her.

Your mother kissed you on the cheek and walked back to your house. Rintarou took your hand and pulled you inside.

“Your hand is cold,” he commented.

You made a freezing noise and whined, “Well, of course! You’ll see, it’s gettin’ colder outside!”

He left you in the living room and went to his room. You were confused until he reappeared with two pairs of gloves. “That for me?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah, you can wear these. But give them back to me after school,” he said, handing you a pair.

“Woah! Thanks, Rin!” you beamed, putting on the gloves.

“Whatever,” Rintarou huffed.

From the moment you got to know Rintarou, you thought he seemed more mature than you, even though you were the same age. Little did you know, his mother was always reminding him to be more thoughtful towards you. Both his mother and father wanted him to grow up to be a gentleman. His father taught him how to respect women. With a baby sister on the way, he needed to learn how to be a good little man in the family. Rintarou sometimes frowned at these instructions. You? You seemed like a normal kid, kind of rowdy, even. You often yelled at boys in the preschool, picked fights, and followed your favorite teacher around annoyingly. You were no different from the boys and definitely wilder than him. He sighed but obeyed his parents nonetheless.

Not long after, Yuuko came down from upstairs. 

“Hello, ___! Are you ready?” She greeted you warmly. You nodded, clutching the strap of your bag.

She put Rintarou’s lunch box in his bag and helped him put it on. Then, you walked to the car and took a seat in the back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

After some sensory play in the playground, the kids were given free time to play by themselves. You were eager to try the yellow double slide with a bridge between them. Then, you saw Rintarou sitting in the sandbox and decided to invite him to join you.

“Rin! Let’s try that cool slide,” you said, grabbing his hand and pointing to the slide.

He contemplated for a second but then got up. “Okay.”

As you walked to the slide, you heard a commotion behind you. Turning around, you saw a group of boys from your class, laughing and pointing at you and Rintarou.

“Look at ‘em! Holding hands and all!”

“I bet they kiss when no one’s around!”

“Hey!” You moved forward, your face flushed with anger. “Stop it!”

“What? It’s true! You both always come together and hold hands,” one of them said while the others laughed.

“He’s my friend!” you said firmly.

While you argued, Rintarou stood behind you, puzzled and unsure how to respond. He knew for sure that you both never kissed. Isn’t that like an adult thing? Kids aren’t allowed to do that. He remembered how his parents always covered his eyes during kissing scenes of lovers on TV. He sometimes secretly caught his parents kissing, too. So, when adults like each other, they kiss? The thought of kissing you felt strange to him.

“Shut your damn mouth!”

Rintarou snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you say that.

“Bad word! She’s saying a bad word!”

You looked terrifying as you ran to chase the boys. Some girls cheered for you from the side, “Go, ___! Catch ‘em!”

The playground filled with noise—your annoyed screams, the boys' laughter, and the girls' cheering. Rintarou watched the whole debacle with raised eyebrows. You were something else. Why didn’t you just ignore those stupid boys? You’d been here for only two months, and his once tranquil life was already changing. He wondered how his life would be with you in the years to come.

[fawnsflowerbed]

hi bee!! im back again :3

okok, we know all the hype for hybrid reader, but what about puppy hybrid leon? i imagine he would be so happy to see you come home from work and start pawing and jumping on you 💔

- 🧠

UGH DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTEDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!

Puppy Leon is EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!!!! It's always RE2 - Darkside Chronicles Leon I think of for the puppy posts cause he's more puppy than dog if that makes sense :3

He's such a lap dog!!!! Biggest cuddly baby ever!!!! Huge whiner, has to pad around after you like a lost pup because he needs to know what you're up to!!!! Does the little circles at the bottom of your bed before slowly crawling his way up inch by inch to stare at you until you pull back the covers so he can climb in <3

HE IS A SHELTER. DOG. I TAKE THAT TO MY GRAVE. YOU GOT THAT SWEET MAN AT A SHELTER OR FOUND HIM CURLED UP AT YOUR DOORSTEP. HE SHINED HIS BIG OL' WET PATHETIC EYES AT YOU AND YOU C A V E D !!!!!!

AND YES THE JUMPING!!! He hears you get home and his feet and skittering across the floor almost sliding as he yaps and paws at the door for dear life, greeting you with rushed words of 'You're back!' 'Hi!' 'I missed you!' 'How was today?' 'Do you need help carrying that?' 'Hi owner!' 'I was good today!' 'Did you miss me?' Yappy little man you own my HEART!!!

He HATES the vacuum cleaner, bites at the air around it with perked up floppy ears and furrowed eyebrows. He LOVES tug of war and fetch, and grumbles during bath time until it gets to the scrubbing and soaping part cause then his foot is tapping when you scratch a good spot behind his ear or on his scalp all gentle!!!!

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 2)

Summary: One episode radically changes the girl’s position in Perturabo’s eyes.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, beating/abuse

Word Count: 1516

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

You weren’t able to count for sure, but it seems like several months have passed since that fateful meeting. The day Perturabo showed you his plans, you were almost silent. Although he seemed quite satisfied with your amazed look. But soon you grew bolder and began bombarding the primarch with questions.

He answered them with joy, although he sometimes continued to look away as if he didn’t want to look at you longer than expected. And it always happened at such different moments. When you smiled or tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. Once, listening to his explanations on the structure of the baths, you frowned, causing the primarch to sigh strangely. Then he finished his story, sending you to bed.

Just think, this scary and sullen primarch was so nice to you. At some point you thought that appearances were deceiving and rumors were exaggerated. You even asked another slave if they were intimidating you in vain. But he only looked at you with an angry look.

“He tolerates only you.”

You didn't make any friends. When people find themselves in terrible conditions, they always try to unite. But as soon as one stands out, everyone turns against him. Even if they previously communicated well. The same thing happened to you, as soon as all the serfs realized that you were in favor of Perturabo. But many of the slaves served here all their lives.

If you served an aristocrat, everyone would think you were a witch. Or achieved favor through bed. But you served the primarch and no one could come up with a clear explanation. Now only you were allowed to clean his chambers. But more often than not, you lingered, talking with the lord about his new inventions. You not only didn’t work so hard, you weren’t really tired.

It was only a matter of time before you paid for your luck. One day Perturabo told you about how he wanted to build a palace for the False Emperor (you couldn't understand why he called his father like that). But his position was undeservedly stolen by Dorn. Perturabo could create something beautiful and majestic on Terra but he didn't get permission.

“Rogal brought your world to Imperium at the dawn of the Crusade. He left behind a fortress as a reminder of the strength of the Emperor." - The primarch grinned evilly, clenching his fist. - “It was not difficult for me to take your capital. The battle for Terra will be more difficult, but victory will still be mine.”

Perturabo glanced at you and then looked away. Lately, he began to avoid looking at you more and more often, but continued to call you to him. You could only guess why. Maybe the man didn't want to get too attached to a mortal girl? Or maybe he himself didn’t understand why he was so thirsty for your attention. Be that as it may, you were only glad to meet him.

“What do you have to say about this?”

What an awkward conversation.

“Well, I don’t really know anything about your brother. He visited my world once when I was little, but I couldn’t even see him.” - the man silently drilled into the wall and you started babbling excitedly. - “Although since I was a chronicler, later I could be officially transferred to remembrancer. Then I most likely went to his service and...”

You heard a fist hit the table and you flinched, drawing your legs closer to you. You shouldn’t have mentioned this point, you definetly shouldn't.

“So even you prefer my brother?” - The primarch raised his voice, barely restraining himself. He just told you about his greatest grievance against the Emperor and Dorn, and you supported the second? - “Forget about Rogal, ungrateful one. You belong to me, you are mine, si...”

The man will suddenly stop, looking you over from head to toe. He turned away from you in disappointment, almost exhausted, to the drawings. At that moment you felt so worthless.

"Leave me alone".

He didn't have to be told twice. You quickly left the room, regretting your question. How could you screw up like that? You really were an ungrateful girl. Perturabo could have treated you the same as any other serf, but instead he did not burden you with work, showed you his inventions, trusted you with his stories. You should have been attentive to him and listened to what you said.

Later, you learned from your mentor that the primarch forbade you to approach his chambers. Like all other serfs. But the worst thing is that he didn’t want to see you at all and ordered you to be sent to work in the Iron Blood library. While the head slave was telling you this news, you couldn’t help but notice the gloating in his eyes.

The week passed in a blur. You kept waiting for the primarch to call you to him. As you fell asleep, you saw his disappointed look. Is this really how he will remember you? Is this your last meeting? It just couldn't be true, you were so attached to him.

Every day you felt worse from the realization that this was now your new life. And one time you didn’t notice how you accidentally damaged a book while cleaning. Accidentally used the wrong product and as a result the pages turned yellow. As soon as one of the serfs saw this, he immediately rushed to the caretaker. You couldn't blame him, it was his job.

You have been punished. Caretaker beat your arms and legs so that it was difficult to sleep. Hit you in the face a couple of times so that when you looked in the mirror you would not forget about the offense. Strangled you so that you would remember that your life no longer belongs to you. And after that also forced you to work. You could barely move for the next two days.

Then Perturabo called you to his chambers. Serfs tried to heal most of the marks, but it still didn't help. When you entered the room, the man was sitting with his back to you behind the drawings. Lord of Iron didn't even look at you.

“I made a robot,” the primarch spoke and you almost smiled at how apologetic he sounded. - “according to the drawings of the ancient masters of Terra. I think you will be interested in looking at it. Why are you still standing at the door?”

Perturabo turned around and his eyes widened. He stood up from the table in disbelief and cautiously approached you. How tall he was. You constantly forgot about it, getting used to the fact that he was almost always sitting at work. But now he blocked the lamp with his figure. Now the light no longer fell on you, only its shadow.

The man knelt down in front of you and carefully placed his hands on your shoulders. You winced. Until this day, he had never touched you.

"Who did it?" - The primarch’s eyes darkened. His anger was not directed at you, but you were still scared. He looked like he was going to burn everything down. Like he once did to your home. - “Who touched you?”

Tears appeared in the corners of your eyes. What's on his mind? You knew that the primarchs were completely different people, almost demigods, but this was too much. Over these few months, you have seen great creations and heard reflections on existence. And at the same time, Perturabo behaved so... humanely. Like an ordinary teenage boy. First he destroys, then he creates. He drives you away and then calls you back.

"Tell me". - the grip on your hands has noticeably strengthened. Now you'll have even more bruises.

What will happen if you tell him name? What will happen to the caretaker? Will Perturabo beat him up? Will he kill the serf or throw him into space? Or maybe turn him into a servitor? You hated your tormentor, but did not wish him a terrible fate. But primarch won’t just back down.

You tell the name. You say what happened. Tears begin to flow freely and you, not caring about your appearance, continue to ask for forgiveness and mercy. You didn't want to damage the book, the slave was right to beat you. Something strange flashes in the man's eyes. And after seconds you understand what it is.

Fear. He's scared to look at you. About what happened to you. Thumbs gently touch your cheeks, wiping away tears. The hand goes lower and lower until it reaches the neck. The primarch strokes the mark on your throat. Remembering the feeling of pain, you sob again.

“No one will offend you anymore. No one will hurt you." - Perturabo looks darkly straight into your eyes. You feel like you're falling straight into an abyss. The primarch does not doubt his words. Now he is confident in what he says and what he does. He doesn't look away from you anymore. - "I promise".

You still felt his gentle touch on your neck.

[seoulzie]

though his lens

WHEREIN: yeonjun sees a little bit of you through everything

彡 pairing: yeonjun x gn!reader 彡 genre: fluff 彡 warnings: none ><

SEUL SPEAKS! not that proud of this one :( lowk just a long ass drabble + not even proofread 💀

yeonjun wakes up to a rare day off, sunlight spilling through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. he stretches, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he thinks about how he’ll spend his day. his camera rests on the bedside table. today, he decides, he’ll immerse himself in his photography.

he starts his journey in a nearby park, the greenery a perfect canvas for his lens. the early morning air is crisp, and he captures the dew-kissed petals of a sunflower. as he frames the shot, he thinks of you—how sunflowers are your favorite. the image freezes in time.

wandering further into the city, he finds himself amidst the bustling streets of seoul. a market comes alive with colors and sounds, vendors calling out and people moving in every direction. he lifts his camera and snaps a shot of the crowd. it’s a bit blurry, the motion captured in a flurry of shapes and hues. yet, in the midst of the chaos, he sees a silhouette that reminds him of you. it’s as if you’re always there, a constant presence in his world.

as the day progresses, yeonjun meanders through narrow alleys and busy boulevards. he photographs everything that catches his eye—an old man feeding pigeons, a child chasing bubbles, the play of light and shadow on walls. each click of the shutter is a heartbeat.

by the time the sun begins to set, he finds himself at the han river. the golden hour bathes the city in a dreamy light, and he takes a moment to soak in the beauty. he captures the waters reflecting the pastel sky, the scene infused with a tranquil energy. it’s a peaceful end to his day, and he feels a deep sense of contentment.

returning home, he reviews the photos he took, each one a piece of his day, a piece of his thoughts. the sunflower, the crowd, the serene river—they’re all fragments of his love for you, woven into the fabric of his art. without uttering a word, he has chronicled a story of his day and his feelings for you.

as he prepares for bed, he places his camera back on the table, a gentle smile playing on his lips. he knows that tomorrow, and every day after, he’ll continue to find you in the world around him. you are, and always will be, his muse.

© 2024 seoulzie

[hanlimz]

synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

[refinedpet]

Alright, I'm taking a moment break from only talking about Xenoblade X to talk about one of the things that bothers me about 2 (and specifically how people criticize it)

Because Xenoblade 2 used to get an unreal amount of hate and no one ever actually dislikes it for the right reasons. I always hear the kinda BS that you'd be able to make up without even watching a trailer.

Light spoilers for Xenoblade Chronicles 2 follow (nothing that will greatly effect your experience, but if you like being totally blind in games turn away)

People always like to complain about Pyra's design, and yeah

I kinda get it, it's alot, like, her bathing suit shows less skin.

But I hate how the reasoning is that like. She has tits? Because yeah, busty women exist. And honestly, yeah I get it, I think her design has problems.

However, I tend to run with. A characters body type doesn't matter, as clothing is how you get to express yourself fully in your control. AND ESPECIALLY IN PYRA'S CASE. It's literally not her body. It's Mythra's body, they have the same proportions.

Now to be fair, we don't fully know how clothes work for Blade's but we see enough examples of them wearing different clothing (Including Pyra) that wearing that is willing.

So you have to beg the question. Why is the relatively timid and self conscious girl dressed like a whore (non-derogatory)? Quite literally the first chunk of the story is her trying to physically hide herself, and not to mention if her covering up a body that traditionally doesn't match her attitude would just add to the symbolism.

Since Mythra is the original personality and Pyra is basically a trauma response. I think having elements of Pyra being more uncomfortable in her body and wanting to cover it up would've added alot.

And then when Mythra first appears and is showing more of herself that'd work really well

Especially since as is, Mythra shows a little less skin than Pyra.

And let us not forget

THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO ACTUALLY DOING SO IN GAME

We get a small segment of Pyra attempting to properly hide away, and then they just kinda give up. I think having her covered up for more of the game or at least until Mythra comes out the first time, would've made alot more thematic sense.

Anyways, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is really good and there's alot of other little things I don't like, but don't let people tell you it's a bad game

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ two queens in a king sized bed ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @fairy-geek-ackerman ˚₊ ⊹

ft. susan pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ a day in the life of queen susan and her physically affectionate wife┊2k words

setting: the golden age & england afterward contains: tooth-rotting fluff to angst, established relationship (married), reader is so whipped, susan is too but doesn’t show it as much, mentioned homophobia

➤ author's note: anna popplewell is so gorgeous like no wonder she was use as the beauty standard in voyage of the dawn treader T-T i would do anything for susan pevensie, i love her so much, i need to write more for her and show her justice

she’s always been the type to rise with the early morning sun as soon as the golden rays filter through the curtains of her bedroom, taking a minute to stretch and make her bed (a habit she never let go of even if there are people to do it for her). the servants come to run a lukewarm bath with mildly scented floral soaps, undoing her braided hair for it to fall in long loose curls, gives her some privacy as she cleans herself up, and then return when she’s finished to help dress her in the layers of ruffled fabrics and silks picked out the night before with the tightening of a bow on her lower back to finish.

little has changed about susan’s routine ever since she got married, except everything is now delayed by at least fifteen more minutes.

when she begins to stir awake, your arm lazily coiled around her waist from the night before begins to instinctively tighten its grip in an almost possessive manner, pulling her closer towards you while muttering something about wanting to stay under the warmth of the covers for just a little bit longer. no amount of reminders about the important work the day has in store for the both of you is enough to motivate you to get up, it actually just makes you pout and want to sleep in until noon, so susan has learned to go along with it unless it’s getting too late or a maid knocks at the door as a reminder.

besides, it’s not like she didn’t enjoy morning cuddles with you, quite the opposite. your skin was softer than flower petals, limbs tangled together in a mess of daisy chains with your bodies perfectly fitting against the other like puzzle pieces and the scent of lilacs from leftover perfume sprayed yesterday dancing around her nostrils.

even with her eyes closed, she could feel yours peeking open and staring at her like you always do. “must you study my face so intently every time you wake up? you’ve been doing that every morning for the past two years, don’t you ever get sick of it?”

“never. i hope to gaze upon you for the rest of our lives,” you murmured dreamily, eyes half-lidded with your pupils blown out in adoration and a stupid little giddy smile on your face while fiddling with the delicate lace of her collar.

“i still don’t think i’ll ever get used to you looking at me like that.”

“looking at you like what?”

“like i hung the stars in the night sky.”

“the moon herself seems dim compared to the radiance of your beauty,” you mused, reaching out to gently trace her features atop milky white skin and marvel at how they sculpt the most gorgeous face you’ve ever seen together. “your freckles are starting to fade out, you used to have constellations on your cheeks when you first came to narnia.”

“i must finally be growing out of my teenage face,” she murmured, brushing her leg further against yours and feeling the silk of your nightgown trail up your thigh in the most innocent manner. “my face has also gotten slimmer— starting to look the part of a queen rather than a princess.”

“i think you only look more lovely by the day.”

“you just love flattering me, don’t you? careful, your words might get to my head one of these days.”

“i’m surprised they haven’t already, i must not be doing a very good job.”

now it was her turn to giggle and nuzzle closer into your touch, allowing her eyes to flutter shut with a sigh. the world had stopped spinning, the birds had stopped chirping, and you both had stopped breathing, just for a moment to savor this experience before palace life pulled you away from each other until night fell.

you both have to perform your morning routines separately because you will end up goofing off rather than getting ready and pulling her into your nonsense, blowing bubbles with soapy water and dancing around the room in your bathrobes until one of her siblings themself have to shout outside the door to knock it off

susan would be with her siblings in the throne room meeting with the representatives of various groups from fauns to blacksmiths to foreign dignitaries, analyzing their situations and discussion solutions with the judgment age and experience has given them now that they reached their mid-to-late twenties. you would be training with new bright-eyed cadets and shaping them into soldiers, banging wooden swords against each other until they broke and teaching them how to ride on horseback through rocky terrain until your skin was shiny with a thin sheen of sweat.

maybe you’ll run into each other once or twice, but you still get sheepish by how smelly you must be after hours of running around under the summer sun in heavy armor and denying your wife from getting any closer until you bathed. maybe if she has extra time, she’ll come out into the meadow with her dress pulled up to her ankles to admire the passion you have when sword fighting. maybe she’ll even give a lesson on archery, giving you a turn to do the same as her lithe fingers draw back the string and fire with terrifying accuracy with you cheering her on in the background. she can never tell if the blush on her cheeks are from the heat or embarrassment from how you’re jumping about and cheering (much to the amusement of those around you, i mean, how often is it you see your strict instructor squealing like a little girl for her wife?) for a single shot.

then you finally clean off all the dirt and grime accumulated and change into something more dressy after a second bath, drinking tea with the visiting noble ladies and sewing delicate embroidered flowers onto handkerchiefs, occasionally chattering rumors about other women not present.

susan loves the activities but hates the petty gossip and company whom she must tolerate for appearances. it’s why she started inviting you to join her to make the experience more bearable even though you suck at sewing and don’t fit in much as someone of lower ranking, but everyone there knows better than to make negative comments about the queen’s beloved.

sometimes you intertwine your hands under the table and exchange brief looks of knowledge. she doesn’t always like public displays of affection, especially around people who only pretend to accept your type of love, but the small lingering touches throughout the day make her feel almost giddy like you were having some sort of forbidden romance despite the fact that you were literally married (maybe in other nations it would be forbidden, but in narnia, it was celebrated just like any other love would be).

once you two get a moment alone in the early evening in the dining room, you tend to throw yourself on her, wrapping her up in a bear hug from behind and laughing when she squeals in surprise. she might chastise you to act your age and to calm down because it wasn’t like you haven’t seen her in weeks, but you know it holds no weight when she can’t stop smiling ear-to-ear and glowing. sometimes one of her siblings will walk in to join the family dinner scheduled every day at six pm and will make a little fake look of disgust, yelling out to “get a room” with a roll of their eyes and a small smile knowing that their sister has truly met her soulmate.

strolling around cair paraval’s dimly lit gardens after eating is her favorite thing to do after waking up next to you in the morning, not always talking but usually resting in comfortable silence with the moonlight and fireflies illuminating the cobblestone path. the light clicking of her heels against the floor, the song of crickets, and nearby conversations fill the lightly humid air as you make the rounds hand-in-hand so much like you used to do in the nearby meadows of the campgrounds before she was crowned until you were drowsy and decided to go to bed. sometimes you’ll make a show of carrying her bridal style to your shared room just for the fun of it as she uses her long hair to cover her face regardless of the shadows of the night doing most of the work for her, but you can still picture her full lips pouting slightly and her eyes looking away being uncharacteristically shy even though you held her like this countless of times already. 

you both lay in bed under the chiffon bed canopy, cuddling like you always with a thin blanket pulled up to your shoulders in the summer weather and your bodies resting in the center of the king-sized mattress. you usually fall before she does, so susan likes to spend her last waking moments studying your face in the dimming candlelight like you adore doing so often, fully understanding why your favorite activity is to look upon your lover and burning every little detail to memory until sleep consumes her as well.

“i would i could spend an eternity in your arms, there’s nothing that could make me happier.”

then the cycle repeats again, everchanging in shifts of actions and dialogue, but eternally peaceful and the happiest moments of her life.

all it took for everything she knew to shatter was a wrong turn of curiosity when she and her siblings found themselves tumbling out of the very wardrobe they entered only aslan knows how long ago, in casual 1940s english garments rather than their royal robes and bodies smaller without the scars of battle littered across their skin.

now susan wakes up alone in one of the professor’s many guest beds, her arm outstretched into the spot where you usually would have laid next to her. it feels so empty without your warmth, the sound of your steady breathing and heartbeat, and the weight of your body pressing on her —mornings are now a painful reminder of her being missing from her soulmate’s life.

she looks at herself in the mirror, the youthful face she hasn’t seen in years, at her fuller cheeks and light brown freckles scattered about, wondering how you’re doing and if she’ll ever see you again. tears begin to fall from her eyes you liked to compare to gems, remembering how you would always wipe them away before she could taste the salt slipping into her tongue.

no longer the gentle queen who ended wars, just a schoolgirl fleeing from them instead. it wouldn’t have been so bad if you came along with her (even if you had to keep your love a complete secret, it’s not like she isn’t already hiding the wisdom of a monarch at least a decade her senior), she could perfectly envision your curious eyes poking around the inventions of modern technology run by electricity rather than magic, and it would make her laugh if it didn’t end up getting broken with choked-up sobs.

what are you doing right now as she is traveling back to finchley and reuniting with old classmates whose names she can hardly remember? are you buried in work, trying to piece up the pieces and conduct a search for the missing kings and queens? are you like her, constantly yearning for what is lost and dwelling on the joys of the past which are slowly becoming a distant memory? have you moved on, getting married to someone from a neighboring nation for the sake of the population or finding comfort in a nymph who helped ease your sorrows? these thoughts drive her mad, and it’s shown in her grades slowly beginning to drop a few points which is strange for a top student like her, but thankfully, people blame it on the effects of the war. 

all she can do is hope for another chance, not only for you but also for her people, but as the days fly by and they speak less of returning to narnia and more about adjusting to current life, she feels her faith slipping away.

request [ HIIIIII!!! could u pls write a susan pevensie x wife reader plsss? r is always super clingy, but susan doesn't mind. her love language is physical touch. she's always attending to susans needs or wants whenever, even when susan tells her not to. she often just holds on to susan however she can in the moment and admires everything about her. THANK YOU!!! (anna popplewell is absolutely gorgeous) ]

[dokoni-mo]

Warm Water || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: you find yourself exausted, but he knows just what to do.

mostly SFW // Fluff

word count : 3773

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20, Will is almost 40), dom/sub undertones, secret relationship, will is obsessive but not as much in this one, fluff, kisses, non-sexual nudity, cuddling, Willy has scars, pet names, exhaustion, hickeys, swearing, Will likes being called sir i just know it, cuddling, non-sexual intimacy, not very proofread, also just laregly a lot of rambling adfjafk idk im so tired, very very slight sexual themes so minors dni

a/n: i'm tagging my normal people for Crave (aka the peepaw chronicles) for this because it does take place in the same universe, but i'll leave it up to interpretation on whether or not you deem it cannon to the story (so im sorry if you didn't want to be tagged!!),, this is probably the most-self indulgent thing i've ever written so please bear with me,, i'm just very tired from school LMAOO and wanted to write smth more fluffy with willy and his lil bun

~~~

William Afton fucking hated baths. He hated a lot of things, but baths were probably towards the top of the list.

Even thinking about them made his skin crawl. Just the thought of sitting there, in your own dirt and grime? In a stuffy, humid room next to where the toilet is? Disgusting. He didn't consider himself to be a germaphobe, no. That wasn't it at all. He worked with children on a Monday-through-Friday basis. He wasn't scared of germs or getting sick. He'd built up quite the immune system over the years of working at the diner.

He just found the notion of sitting there like a big, sweaty dumpling inside of a soup comprised of water and your own dirt, sweat, and germs revolting.

But you liked them. You liked them a lot.

It was one of the few things William didn't quite understand about you. How could you like something so gross? You had explained your reasoning to him before when he had first found out. Something about how the warmth all around you was comforting, as well as the various different soaps and scents you could use to spruce it up. But, try as you might to explain it, he still didn't understand. Couldn't a shower do the same thing? Without you having to sit in your own filth?

Whatever. He wasn't going to argue with you about it. His bunny enjoyed many strange things, but he wasn't going to take any enjoyment away from them just because he didn't understand. He loved you. He'd never do such a thing.

As out-of-character as it was for him, he found himself buying more bath-related things to secretly store away in his bathroom. For when you came over, of course. You seemed to appreciate it when he gave the array of soaps and other liquids to you, giving him a nice kiss on the cheek. As much as he didn't understand your reasoning, your little smile was all he cared about at the end of the day. He could tolerate your conflicting views. That's what love is all about, isn't it?

William didn't share too many disagreements with you. Not as much as he initially expected when he first made you his. You were soulmates, after all. It's only natural you share similar perspectives.

It was both a blessing and a curse, however. As much as William liked how similar you were, there was a few things he wished he kept for himself and himself only. Such as the work-ethic the two of you shared.

The older man was somewhat of a workaholic. While he reserved the weekends for you and only you, he was much different during the week. He would spend extra hours at the diner frequently. And, when he wasn't at his restaurant, he was tinkering away at some side-project down in his cellar. It wasn't very healthy, but it's how he liked to do things. Gave him character, but also made his hair turn grey.

You liked his grey hairs, though. And he was still handsome with it.

But, his bunny was the same way. You being in college, you had a lot of work to do. Sometimes so much that you'd have to bring your assignments over to his house on the weekends and do them there, even though the two of you agreed long ago that the weekends were couple time. You were a driven little thing. William could see it when he got to watch you work, in the pain in your lower back and shoulders, and in the dark circles under your precious eyes when you fell asleep next to him.

Poor bunny. He didn't want you to work so hard. It hurt his heart seeing you so stressed all the time. Your schooling is important, yes, but you mustn't be so hard on yourself. You're a clever little rabbit. You don't need to devote so much of your time on work, surely not.

Besides, sometimes, William couldn't help but feel a little jealous when all your attention was on your books and papers rather than him.

This was one of those times.

With the turn of the seasons, your professors had also swamped you with several different tests and assignments to turn in sooner rather than later. You never really liked to complain about it to William, he found, but he could tell that the pressure was weighing on you. This had been the third weekend in a row that you had brought your coursework over to his house, your nose buried in the pages; your eyes on the words rather than him.

William kept you company while you worked to have himself nearby, but he couldn't help but be a little peeved. The weekends were sir and bunny's time. Not boring old college.

The brit was watching your back as you scribbled away in your notebook, sitting on the floor in front of him with his coffee table used as your make-shift desk. You had been at it since the moment you finished the breakfast he made you this morning, and now the Utah sun was just starting to creep below the horizon. Worry was in the older man's grey eyes. When was the last time he saw you stand up? Or even scurry yourself to the bathroom? Or get a drink of water? He couldn't remember. And that wasn't good.

He was a patient man, yes, and did value a college education. But William was tired of waiting for you. He barely gets to see his adorable bunny during the week. He'd rather spend this time with you curled up in his bed, closer to him on his lap, or just talking to you. But you hadn't said a word in hours. Even though you were right in front of him, he missed his bunny. And the amount you were working was getting a little ridiculous for his tastes.

"Love?" He asked you through the silence, gently reaching out a hand and rubbing circles into your back, "Are you almost done? It's getting late, little one."

He watched as you looked over your shoulder towards him, but not enough to have your full attention. You seemed just a tad annoyed with him, but he understood. When you were concentrated, you didn't much like him disturbing you.

But he didn't much like not having you in his arms right now.

"Umm..." you breathed, "I dunno, Will. I have, like... two chapters left? To take notes on? So just a little longer, okay?"

The older man felt his jaw clench, "You said that three hours ago, bunny."

"I know, I just... I need to get this done before the deadline. I'm sorry."

"And when exactly is all this due then, hm?"

"Uh... friday?"

"It's Saturday, love."

"I know, I know, just... Just gimme one more hour. Then I promise I'll be done."

William let out a sigh. You had said that three hours ago, too.

The brit watched as you went back to scribbling away in your notebook, finding himself more annoyed. Not at you, of course, but by the situation. You didn't need to work this hard, no. You were William's bunny, after all. You shouldn't ever need to lift a finger around him. But, you were a workaholic just like he was. You liked doing things yourself

He loved and hated you for it.

His fingertips still on your back, William felt his other hand reach up to smooth your hair away from your face. Even though he didn't get a direct shot of you, he could tell that you were tired. He could see the dark circles under your eyes from his spot on the couch, and the slight redness that had crept into them. Hell, your back must be aching too from sitting on the ground for so long. And didn't your pretty little head hurt? Surely it did.

Sweet bunny. You needed a break. You needed to be done for the day. Plain and simple.

Reaching forward, William pressed a few soft, warm kisses to the side of your cheek and hair as he took your pencil away from you, laying it on the table. When you turned around at him to protest, he seized the opportunity to capture your lips into his, lingering on your sweet taste for perhaps longer than he should have. He pulled back and brought his hands close, cradling your jaw a few inches away from his face.

"I think you've done far enough for today, little one." He said to you, using his thumbs to caress your cheeks, "Wouldn't you agree?"

He could feel your cheeks heat slightly under his touch, "Will, if I finish today, I'll have time to visit your office during the week. So I really need to finish."

William let out a chuckle. He always did like having you in his office. It was cute you were thinking of him.

"But you're here now, my love." He said, "And I want you now."

"I... I want you too, but-"

William shushed you before you could continue, leaning in and giving you another sweet, long kiss.

The brit pulled away, looking into your tired eyes again, "You work far too hard, bunny. You'll burn yourself out. And I want my little rabbit to be happy, yeah?"

You nodded in response.

"Of course I do. And I'd hope you'd want the same for yourself, yes?"

You nodded again, "Yes... sir."

William's soft smile widened as he let out a pleased hum, "Good bunny. Now, why don't we relax a bit, hm? You've definitely earned it, my darling."

He watched as your cheeks heated up some more, your eyes flickering downward, "I... I think I'm gonna be too tired to-"

The brit chuckled, "No, love, no. I'm not talking about that. I was thinking of something a little different for tonight."

"Like what?"

"You still like baths, right bunny?"

"Yeah? Why?"

William couldn't believe he was saying this. But, he knew it'd have to be something special to get you away from your work. Luckily, he knew just what to do. Even if it wrecked his pride just a hair.

"Would you care to join me for one?"

You furrowed your brow in confusion at his words, but a soft smile still remained out of amusement.

"Join you? For a bath?" You asked.

"Yes, love."

You let out a little laugh, "Will, you hate baths. You've made that really clear over these last few months."

William let out a hum, brushing some more hair away from your face, "Yes, I do. But I love you far more than I hate them. And I know they're always relaxing for you, love. And I want to help you do just that. You're tired, bunny. I can see it."

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Just let me take care of you." He continued, "Like I promised I would. Can you do that for me, love?"

The older man saw how your smile widened at his words, "Fine, fine. Just promise me you're not gonna complain the whole time."

"Of course not, bunny. Now, come here. Let me pick you up, yeah?"

William took you wrapping your arms around his neck as you accepting his invitation. Leaning down a little more, he scooped you up into his arms and held you close, pressing a kiss to your blushy cheek a you giggled as his strength. Your legs wrapped around his waist, he carried you all the way from his living room into his master-bathroom, placing you down so you could sit on the lidded-toilet.

Rolling up his dress-shirt sleeves, William opened up the cabinet under his sink and looked at the vast array of bath materials he had collected for you. He pulled out each one and laid them on the ground, making sure the labels were pointed towards you so that you could read them.

Once all of the products were out, the brit closed the cabinet and took a knee in front of you for you to discuss with him which ones you wanted to use.

"Do you even know what these things are?" You asked, picking up a clear bottle to read it more closely.

"If I'm being honest, love," he said, "I have no idea. The woman at the shop helped me pick a lot of them out."

You giggled again, "Well, this here is a bubble-bath. You put it in the water while it's running and it makes a lot of bubbles. And that baggie is bath salts. It just makes the bath, like... mineral-y."

The older man quirked a brow, "Mineral-y?"

"It's hard to describe! It's just good for your skin."

"I see." William reached down and picked up a pinkish jar, "What about this? It doesn't look like you've used it that much."

"Oh, those are petal-soaps. They look like flower petals but they're actually soap. They dissolve in the water after a while. They make the water smell like roses too! I was saving them for a special occasion."

"Well, is this a special enough occasion?"

"Getting the Mr. Afton into a bath? Hell yeah it is."

William chuckled, "You flatter me, bunny."

You smiled back at him, "The petals and the bubble-bath will be nice. That's what I wanna use."

"If you say so, love."

With your final approval on the products being used, William shifted himself over to his large, porcelain-white bath, reaching in and stopping the drain before turning the hot-water valve on. The sound of the water hitting the dry tub filled the air, the pipes creaking just a tad at the rare usage. While the water poured down, the brit used the opportunity to pour in some of the bubble bath liquid. William then let the water run for a few minutes more, leaving his fingertips under the water until it warmed up.

"Is this too hot for you, bunny?" He asked. You reached forward past the older man to feel the water.

"Nah, it's good. I like it to be real warm."

"Perfect. Wait here then."

Shaking the water off his hand, William stood up from his kneeling position over to one of the longer, taller cabinets nearby. Reaching inside, he pulled out a few of his favorite soft, lush purplish-grey towels, walking back over and handing one to you.

"Here, love." He said, "So you don't freeze to death before the bath fills up."

You took the towel with a soft thank you as you stood up from your seat on the toilet. You turned away from the brit as you pulled your shirt off over your head, his eyes fixated on your bare back as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. As you slipped off your pants and underwear, William could see the ghosts of former hickeys he had given you past weekends on your shoulders and thighs. You were a good bunny and didn't try and cover them up with any makeup or anything, just like he wanted. The more recent ones were fading, though.

He'd have to fix that soon.

He continued to watch as you kicked all your clothes into a pile by the foot of the bath and wrapped the towel around you. Your nude body no longer available for him to see, he went back to removing his own clothes.

Once they were all off, and neatly folded on the edge of his sink, William wrapped his towel around his lower half and stepped closer to you. You were watching the water fill up and he snaked his long, scarred arms around your middle, pulling you close to his chest. He could feel how you smiled as he pressed his kisses into your hair.

"I love you, bunny." He mumbled against you, feeling your little hands glide over the scars on his forearms as you leaned back against him.

"I love you too, Will." you responded.

He continued his assault of kisses onto your cheek and jaw, "Are you feeling any better, my love?"

"Definitely. I didn't even realize how tired I was."

William let out a hum as his kisses found your neck, "You have been working for almost 12 full hours, bunny."

"Oh my god, really?"

"Mhm."

You let out a groan, "Oh my god, that's so embarrassing. I'm sorry, Will. I didn't even realize. You must've been so bored."

"Don't apologize, little one. I know how much your Uni means to you."

"Yeah, but still... I feel bad. I don't want you to be bored. And we only get to see each other on weekends. It doesn't help I already pissed half of it away."

"It's not your job to entertain me, love. You know just having you here is enough."

"But I don't wanna be just enough. I wanna be like... better. Because you do so much for me. I... I feel like I don't try hard enough sometimes. And I'm sorry."

William let out a sympathetic hum and he lifted your chin up to him, giving your lips a sweet, reassuring peck.

"Everything about you is perfect, bunny. I wouldn't change one thing about you. You try more than you realize."

"How?"

"Well, you did say you were working so late because you wanted to see me in my office, yeah?"

"Yeah..."

"And why is that?"

"Because I know you like it when I do."

William gave you another kiss, "See?"

You smiled at your own silliness, standing on your tip-toes to kiss him one last time, "Fine, fine. You win."

William smiled to match your own, "You worry too much, bunny. I understand what's going on in that pretty head of yours. I love you, and nothing's going to ever change that."

"What if I was ugly?"

"You're not ugly, love."

"But what if I was?"

"I'd still love you."

"What if, like, I only spoke in rhymes or something?"

"It'd be... odd, but I'd still love you."

You giggled, "What if I burned down the diner?"

"Well... you know, I never really liked it much. You'd honestly be doing me a favor, love. So I'd probably love you even more."

"Should I go do it then?"

"Maybe later, bunny. Looks like our bath is full."

Giving you one last kiss on your cheek, William padded over to the running faucet and turned off the valve. In his peripheral, he saw you grab the can of the fake petals and open it up, grabbing a fistful and throwing the small soaps on top of the bubbles. The reddish-pink hue contrasted greatly over the white bubbles and water, making the bath look rather pretty. William was impressed.

William allowed himself to step into the bath first, unwrapping his lower half, folding and placing the towel on the ground nearby. The bubbles dispersing around him, William made sure that water was still a good temperature for you before he sat down in the bath. Once situated, he held out his hand for you.

Placing your soft, small palm in his, you let your towel drop to the floor as you got in the bath yourself. Using his hand as a balance, you sunk your legs in beneath the bubbles as you sat down in the water as well. William spread his bare legs apart beneath the water to make room for you, holding onto your waist and guiding you to lean back against him. You followed his silent order, your bare back against his scarred chest as you rested your head on his strong shoulder. The man pressed a few kisses to your hair as he wrapped his arms around you beneath the water. You relaxed against him easily, and your eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling around you.

"Is it too hot, bunny?" He asked you, already knowing what you would say, but still wanting to make sure.

"It's perfect, Will." You mumbled, "Thank you."

The brit felt himself smile, "There's no need to thank me, little one. I'm just happy I got you to myself now."

You breathed out a laugh, "Didn't like third-wheeling my textbook, hm?"

"Not at all." He pressed another kiss to your cheek, "You're mine. I should never be the third wheel."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to."

"I know. It's alright. Just relax, bunny."

Leaning down to press more kisses into the back of your neck, William lifted up his wet hands out of the water, making a splash echo through the bathroom. Steadily, he grabbed onto your shoulders and rubbed firm, massaging circles into your back with his thumbs and the heels of his palms. You shut your eyes tighter at the feeling, a few low groans escaping the back of your throat.

"Feel good?" He asked. All you could do was nod as he chuckled, "Good. I'm glad. Your muscles are quite firm, love. You shouldn't be sitting on the floor like that for so long."

"If I got on the couch," you said, "I knew you wouldn't let me get off it again and back to work."

William laughed, "You know me far too well, bunny."

"You're just very predictable sometimes."

"Oh? Am I now?"

You nodded again, "Only sometimes though. Like today when I woke up, I would've never guessed you'd be in here with me right now."

"I can't say I predicted that either, love."

You breathed out a laugh, "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay, Will."

"No, no." William pressed more kisses to the back of your neck, rubbing deeply into your more firm muscles, "I actually think it's rather nice in here."

"Really? Or are you just trying to not make me feel bad?"

"I mean it, love. It's nice. But, perhaps I'm biased. How could I not enjoy being so close to my precious rabbit, hm?"

Your smile grew as you leaned back against his chest again, making his arms return to their home around your waist. You had scooted down so that your head rested more so on his collarbone, allowing you to look up at him more clearly, and him at you.

"Along with predictable," you said, "You're also really cheesy sometimes."

"Oh, you love it though, don't you bunny?"

"I do." You leaned up and gave the brit a kiss on the jaw, "And I love you too. Thank you for everything tonight, Will. I really appreciate it."

The older man felt his heart swell in his chest as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Anytime, my love. Anytime."

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 @the-official-memester @randomwriteralan @mrsrogerwaters @laylaaftonshit @cherry-slushee @insert-memical-username @mrssafton @horrorking2000 @artist-anon08 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jamiethenerdymonster @kimyona-san @purplewolfcoffee @violetlmfaoo

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!! as well as anyone who didn't want to be tagged (pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all Willy works :)) )

[vinnieswife]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ materialist ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

last updated! 24/12/2024

✾ = smut!

Celebrities ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Vinnie Hacker

Hyperactive ✾

Goodbye ✾

Knife play✾

Morning sex ✾

Public play✾

Panic attack ✾

Punishment ✾

Nsfw alphabet ✾

Dirty secret ✾

Mirror play ✾

Birthday girl ✾

Soft!dom Vin ✾ (head cannon)

Such a brat ✾

Live stream ✾

Tired Vin

Lazy day

Trust issues

Play date

Out of the ring

Jacob Elordi

Only indoors

Hard day

The date

Jude Bellingham

Our bet ✾

Pussy drunk ✾

Relieve after a bad game ✾

Hayden Chistensen

Young lovers on the set

Being in love with your co-star

Dating rumors

Harry Potter ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Remus Lupin

Autumn

Anime ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

MY HERO ACADEMIA ｡･ﾟﾟ･

Katsuki Bakugo

Bath and cuddles?

Father!katsuki

Dabi / Touya Todoroki

A…bath?

Kissing his scars

Morening with Touya

JUJUTSU KAISEN ｡･ﾟﾟ･

Sukuna Ryomen

Past lover

Our secret ✾

Sukuna’s memories

Under the sunset

Cuddles

Megumi Fushiguro

Evening with Megumi

Formula 1 ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Charles Leclerc

Some time together

Arthur Leclerc

Your firsts with artie

Stress killer ✾

Pierre Gasly

Nightmares

Dc / Marvel ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Alex Summers

Detention

Jason Todd

thank you

Dick Grayson

You don’t know how to shut up ✾

Star Wars ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Anakin Skywalker

Dating Ani

Face riding ✾

Macgyver ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Angus Macgyver

Work day morning

Bozer’s friend

His free day

Avatar ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Neteyam

back massage

protective teyam

“are you that ticklish?”

lost

Chronicles of Narnia ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Peter Pevensie

Late night project

After the battle 

Green Street Hooligans ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　

Pete Dunham

Pete Dunham headcannons

Lazy Mornings

Patching him up after a fight.

Lazy mornings

Football girl

Silent Treatment

Girlfriend?!

Meeting his mates

Pirates of the caribbean ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　

Henry Turner

A pirates love

[0dotexe]

He's here!!! This weekend is gonna be dedicated to cleaning up this poor guy. Looks like he lived kinda rough before we snagged him.

Oh, it's gonna be a hunt to find an old computer monitor in the wild isn't it?

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, Ship Traits Meme & 5 Songs Game

Tagged by @josephseedismyfather @imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @voidika and @cassietrn

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @rhettsabbott @g0dspeeed @josephslittledeputy @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @icecutioner @softtidesworld @shallow-gravy @derelictheretic @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @red-nightskies @starsandskies @ladyoriza @florbelles @skoll-sun-eater @cloudofbutterflies92 @afarcryfrommymain @titiagls @la-grosse-patate @minilev and @thewanderer-000

A song for The Silver Chronicles, ship meme for The UnTitledverse, Life, Despair & Monsters and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, plus listing five of my favorite songs below the cut:

Out of all the songs in Disney's Wish, the only one which really touched me was "At All Costs". In the context of The Silver Chronicles, it can be viewed in two ways; either Kamski Neon is declaring is promise that no matter the cost, he will protect Silva as she is the closest thing to family he has left, and her returning this promise, OR, Silva is reminiscing on Paul's past promise to protect and love her as a parent should, and echoes these words to Azriel in the present. [Fun fact: I did not enjoy Wish. I enjoyed very, VERY few things in it, and personally wouldn't recommend watching it, but you can do you.]

"If happiness was a tangible thing It would be you If you'd have told me the feeling you'd bring I'd think it untrue And people search for a wonder like you All of their lives You still amaze me after all this time

You pull me in like some kind of wind Mesmerized by the hold I'm in Leave you here, I don't wanna I wanna

Promise as one does I, I will protect you at all costs Keep you safe here in my arms I, I will protect you at all costs At all costs."

"What's pain, when I look at you? No way I could explain you, even if I tried to I'll never dream like I used to do If someone tried to hurt you, I don't See how that could happen I'd fight for you in ways you can't imagine Felt this, no, I haven't, I hope It would be all right to stay right here beside you."

"And promise as one does I, I will protect you at all costs Keep you safe here in my arms I, I will protect you at all costs At all costs

If you're ever feeling like you're lost I'll come find you Man all fronts, there's no ocean I won't swim across To be right by you And not just once, here and now, I swear on my response I'll remind you

And promise as one does I, I will protect you at all costs Keep you safe here in my arms I, I will protect you at all costs At all costs."

Rules: bold/color the themes that apply to your ship, and italicize the theme if it’s one-sided, within your story.

MARIO EMMET x CHARLIE EMILY (THE UNTITLEDVERSE)

height difference (6'3" vs 5'4") / mutual pining / first kiss / wedding / in-jokes / lgbtq+ (Charlie is Bi and both her and Mario are polyamorous leading to their future relationship with Elizabeth Afton) / family disapproves (Henry doesn't approve of his android-copy of his dead daughter romancing a shapeshifting alien that is carnivorous, but if Abigail was alive, she'd approve because she loves her boy and Charlie's a catch) / would die for each other / would kill for each other / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly (Mario is really touch-starved, while Charlie isn't) / and they were roommates / holding hands / secret relationship / opposing worldviews / getting a pet / have kids / want kids / grow old together (originally the plan before they eventually go from "android x shapeshifter-alien young romance" to "gods of the new world") / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder / share a bed / relationship doubts / they have a song / first date (for Mario) / sharing a blanket / mutual interests / study buddies (Charlie attempted this but Mario is not helpful whatsoever) / bathing together / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies / cooking for each other (Mario cooks the bigger and flavoured dishes while Charlie is more of a simpler easier food kind of person) / big fancy gala / forehead touches / hair stroking (Mario doesn't have hair) / sitting on each other’s laps / sexual tension / can’t be together / battle couple / Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers (initially Mario thought Charlie was a rival apart of his species since her body that housed her soul was different from regular humans so he attempted to eat her) / Lovers to Enemies / KEEPING SECRETS (misunderstanding: Mario thought Charlie was apart of his species because of her physical forms difference from the rest of her friends leading him to believe she was trying to steal his territory/kill him in general while Charlie eventually thinks Mario knows something of her origins and eventually thinks he knew she was an android before she figured it out, which was far from Mario's deduction) / love after loss / exes / declaration of love / flirting / love triangle (Charlie had the choice between her gentle and supportive childhood friend whom she has great chemistry with but doesn't feel the same way for and stops her from doing impulsive dumb shit or the alien shapeshifter who initially tried to eat her mistaking her for someone else and is more likely to go along with her impulsive dumb shit) / destructive romance / envy (Mario was jealous of Charlie's integration in human society not realizing she was an android and not another of his species) / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” (especially considering Charlie was an android who thought she was human and Mario is a shapeshifting alien, neither had thought their feelings would be reciprocated) / shared values / slow burn / does not end well / happily ever after (at the very, very end of the series, they ascend to godhood because positions were open so... I guess?) / love letters

HAOYU ANABUKI x ICARUS GALATOS (LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS)

height difference / mutual pining / first kiss / wedding / in-jokes / lgbtq+ (Haoyu is non-binary attracted to men and Icarus is ace and doesn't mind who the person is as long as their personality is worth hyperfixating on) / family disapproves (nah, Monika's happy for her half-sibling and Icarus' fam are just glad he's got a partner) / would die for each other (more accurately they'd risk their lives for each other but would avoid actual death at all costs) / would kill for each other (Haoyu doesn't like to kill but Icarus would let Hatter do the killing) / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly / and they were roommates / holding hands / secret relationship (mostly on Icarus side of things, but eventually he reveals Haoyu to his family) / opposing worldviews (Icarus believes personal satisfaction comes from doing good to others while Haoyu believes upholding self-interest is satisfying enough) / getting a pet / have kids / want kids / grow old together / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder/ share a bed / relationship doubts (Icarus side of things considering he (plus his alters) are Hatter's avatar/s) / they have a song / first date / sharing a blanket / mutual interests / study buddies / bathing together / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies / cooking for each other / big fancy gala / forehead touches / hair stroking / sitting on each other’s laps / sexual tension / can’t be together / battle couple / Friends Mutual Allies to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / KEEPING SECRETS / love after loss / exes / declaration of love / flirting / love triangle / destructive romance / envy / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” / shared values / slow burn / does not end well (will neither confirm nor deny both of their fates in the ending of the series) / happily ever after / love letters (a gag that happens; Icarus attempts this and Haoyu opens up a portal to his universe and tells him face-to-face their feelings)

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP x PIPER WRIGHT (A RADIOACTIVE CALAMITY OF LOVE, BOMBS & GORE)

height difference (6'2" vs 5'7") / mutual pining / first kiss / wedding / in-jokes (from to each others expenses to flirtatious teasing) / lgbtq+ (Piper and Ress are both Bisexual women) / family disapproves (Piper's little sister Nat thinks Ress is cool. But on Ress' side of the family, her deadbeat evil father Arcane Urias thinks humans are a regression to evolution and should be treated as livestock more than anything and if Ore, Ress' half-brother, was alive at the time, he'd approve her choice, but Ress human family members, the Bishop Crime Family, might not like the idea of her being with a JOURNALIST of all things) / would die for each other / would kill for each other / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly / and they were roommates / holding hands / secret relationship / opposing worldviews / getting a pet (Dogmeat!... and whatever Ress keeps bringing home to freak out Piper and make Nat think she's cool) / have kids / want kids / grow old together (God Ress wishes she could do this with Piper) / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder / share a bed / relationship doubts (Piper has insecurities while Ress wrestles with the fact she'll outlive Piper) / they have a song / first date / sharing a blanket (Ress hogs the f***ing blanket) / mutual interests / study buddies / bathing together / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies / cooking for each other / big fancy gala / forehead touches / hair stroking / sitting on each other’s laps (Piper does this often since she knows it will fluster Ress) / sexual tension (oh god, it is so obvious to everyone) / can’t be together / battle couple / Friend(emie)s to Lovers / (Fri)Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / KEEPING SECRETS / love after loss (at this point Ress has lost her closest friends and her own brother) / exes / declaration of love (Piper confesses this) / flirting (very aggressive teasing) / love triangle / destructive romance / envy (Piper was kinda jealous that Ress isn't self-conscious and very overconfident cocky attitude until she learned why Ress has this mask on) / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” / shared values / slow burn / does not end well / happily ever after? (at the end of the series? yes. post-canon offscreen though? Ress is likely to outlive Piper, something they're both aware of) / love letters

Now here's a list for my top 5 favorite songs:

Without You - Oh Wonder

Loser, Baby - Keith David, Blake Roman, Andrew Underberg & Sam Haft

Youth - Daughter

I Really Want To Stay At Your House - Hallie Coggins & Rosa Walton

Memory Reboot - Narvent & VØJ