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cressidagrey · 17 days ago

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Stars all aligned - Chapter 14

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

“I want to go home,” Zahra said softly, Azalea slumbering safely between them. His mate, his wife… she was subtly golden glowing that morning, looking like the sun incarnate.

It was more obvious now…or maybe he just saw it more than he had before. Or maybe it was because Zahra was happy. Content.

“Are you sure, sunshine?” He asked her softly, his thumb tracing her cheek. “There is no need to rush.”

There wasn’t.

He was willing to take all the time in the world right here in Rosehall with the two of them. And maybe a part of him…a part of him was hoping for some more time before the insanity of their family was going to descend on them.

Azriel didn’t believe for one moment that that was over already.

“I want her to come home to the cottage,” Zahra said softly. “Though we’ll need to figure out some way to…extend it maybe?“

They had talked about it before in passing, comments about adding an office… but now they would be adding a nursery. And maybe other rooms as well when they were already at it.

Azriel could feel the warmth of his mate’s body against his, their daughter sleeping peacefully between them. He was acutely aware of her golden glow, of her scent, of the press of her hand against his chest. The knowledge that this female, this beautiful, strong, incredible person, was bound to him for eternity was a heady joy. A light in the darkness.

He pressed a soft kiss to Zahra’s forehead, his wings curling around them again.

"Of course, Sunshine," he murmured against her skin. "We’ll return home."

Whatever she wanted.

Her request was so simple, and yet he understood the importance of it entirely. The cottage was home, yes, but more importantly it was part of their story. Their story together. Their lives with their daughter.

“Your sisters won’t be patient forever,” he warned Zahra nontheless.

It wouldn’t be pretty. He knew that. She knew that too.

Zahra looked at him, fierce green eyes meeting his.

“I don’t care,” she murmured, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I am not going to hide. I am not going to wait because they don’t like me or the choices I made. I don’t care, Azriel,” she told him flatly.

Her fingers brushed against his cheek, her touch gentle yet firm. “Azalea is my priority. You are my priority. I’ll deal with my sisters if I must,” she told him, her voice soft yet filled wth conviction.

Azriel had thought it was impossible to love her more than he already did, but with every look, every word, she proved him wrong.

He couldn't imagine a life without her, without their daughter. He couldn't imagine living without Zahra by his side.

He had found his mate, his love, his everything.

"We belong together," he whispered, his voice full of love and promise.

"Always."

His lips found hers, his hands gently cupping her face as he kissed her.

Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he could feel the love radiating from her.

He wanted to stay in this moment forever. With the beautiful woman he loved more than anything, their daughter nestled between them.

The rest of the world could wait.

All that mattered was this. This moment.

His fingers trailed over her face, tracing the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw.

She was his. And he was hers.

Nothing could ever take that away. Nothing could ever come between them.

Azriel would fight for her, and for their daughter, until the end of time.

She pulled back, resting her forehead against his.

"Besides, I can't ignore them forever," Zahra said quietly.

Azriel chuckled softly against her lips, his hand moving to cup her face gently.

"You could try," he replied softly, a teasing edge to his voice.

He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his gaze locked on hers.

"You should be able to. They owe you at least all the time you want," he told her softly.

Zahra sighed.

"They don't owe me anything," she disagreed quietly.

Azriel frowned at that, his brows furrowing slightly.

He had hoped that she wouldn't say something like that.

He knew that she felt like she didn't deserve anything, that she wasn't owed anything. But it was so untrue.

She deserved everything.

"Zahra…" he began softly, but she cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Stop," she said firmly, her hands gripping his shirt tightly.

She was too gentle. Too kind.

But he knew he couldn't force her to see it the way he did.

He would do anything to protect her, their daughter. Even if it meant accepting her forgiveness of the people who had done her so wrong.

It didn't mean he had to like it though.

He pressed another kiss to Zahra's lips, his hand moving to trace down her spine.

He wanted to protect her, to keep her close and shield her from all that was wrong in the world.

But he also knew that Zahra was strong, that she had the strength to make her own decisions.

Even if he didn't necessarily agree with them.

"You're too damn forgiving," he murmured softly against her lips, his voice husky with emotion.

His hands curled around her body, pulling her close, his lips never leaving hers.

He held her tightly, his body enveloped her in a tight embrace.

“I am not,” Zahra disagreed. “But quite frankly, I would rather not spent my energy on them when I could spent it on Azalea.”

Azriel nodded in agreement, his body still wrapped around her.

He understood her reasoning. It was better to focus on what truly mattered. Their daughter.

"You're right," he murmured against her hair, his wings twitching in agreement. "She is our priority," he said, his voice firm. "Nothing else matters."

Not even his own anger at his family. All that mattered was his wife and daughter.

He leaned back slightly to look at her, his hands running over her back in soft circles.

"I love you," he said softly.

It was a plain truth. Something he felt was worth repeating as often as possible. He knew she was aware of his love for her, but it would never hurt to remind her.

Azalea let out a little noise then, her small hand fisting in Azriel's shirt.

Both of their gazes went to their daughter, their eyes filled with affection. She looked small and so innocent, wrapped up in their embrace.

"There you are, sweetheart," Azriel murmured, a soft smile on his lips.

He let his hand brush over their daughter's head, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest.

"Just like her mother."

Zahra chuckled softly at the compliment, her eyes twinkling.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Shadowsinger," she teased, her voice low. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Azriel's cheek. "You're lucky you're so good at it."

She winked at him slyly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

There wasn’t much to pack up. The things Zahra had brought, the chest that houses the few pieces of clothing Esmeray had made for Azalea… Which prompted the shadows curling themselves around his wings, May we go shopping, Master?

Azriel paused at the question, his brows rising in surprise. He should have expected it.

They were an extension of him. The desire to shop for their daughter was simply reflection of his own desire to spoil the little girl. Of course, the shadows would want to buy things for their daughter, he thought. It was quite natural for them to want to provide anything and everything to his child.

"They want to go shopping?" Zahra asked him with some amusement and he realised that they must have spoken loud enough for her to hear. He just shrugged. "Let them," she said easily. "And if you want to buy some furniture, be my guest."

He leaned down to press a kiss to Zahra's cheek, his hand coming up to her chin to tilt her face to him. "Thank you for understanding," he murmured softly.

"Maybe they'll find a crib for her," Zahra said drily. "I feel like a horrible mother already."

Azriel frowned at that, his brows knotting together. He didn't like her saying that.

She should never feel that way. Ever.

"You're not a horrible mother, sunshine," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You're a wonderful mother. Our daughter is happy and healthy. That's what matters."

He reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek. "You're doing everything you can for her. And that's all anyone could ever ask for."

Zahra gave him a hesitant smile. "I never want her to feel as alone as I did," she said softly.

Azriel's expression softened at Zahra's words, his heart aching at the thought of her feeling so alone. He'd do everything in his power to make sure she never felt that way again.

"Of course not," he said, his voice soft and full of love. "Our daughter is never going to feel alone. She's going to be surrounded by so much love. From us, from our family. She's going to grow up knowing that she is loved. That we would fight to the ends of the world for her.” He pulled her closer in his arms, his wings wrapping around them. "I promise you," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "Our daughter will never feel the way you did. She will be safe and loved. We'll make sure of it. "

The sound of Azalea's soft whimper interrupted any further conversation between them.

"I think she wants something too," Azriel observed with a chuckle, looking at their daughter.

The little girl looked up at them with clear demand in her eyes, her tiny hands reaching out to them.

"Seems like she wants us to pay attention to her," Zahra said with a smile, her expression filled with adoration as she looked down at their daughter.

"Always so demanding, it seems," he quipped with a warm smile.

He reached down to pick up Azalea, holding her gently in his arms.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly.

They promised his mother that they would come to visit soon, and then it was simply a question of him wrapping his wife and daughter into his shadows and winnowing them home to their little cottage.

The world around them shifted and blurred, a surge of darkness and weightlessness as the shadows swirled around them.

And then they were there, standing in the middle of the living room in their cottage.

The shadows had been busy already, Azriel reflected drily. They must have started before even asking for permission.

Zahra gave a shocked laugh, as she saw the bookcases lining one wall of the living room.

The cottage, which had once contained little more than the basics, was now filled with furniture and decorations. A new sofa, that somehow managed to compliment the horrible ugly armchair, and new curtains adorned the main room, along with several of Azalea's new toys and baby supplies.

"This is…a lot," Zahra muttered, looking around their home with wide eyes.

Azriel couldn't help a small, proud smile from forming on his lips. "Did you expect anything less?" he drawled, his voice laced with amusement.

He hadn’t. There was a touch of pride in his gaze at the sight of his mate and daughter in their home.

He shifted their daughter in his arms, the baby's weight a comforting presence against him.

"Are you complaining about how our daughter's needs are being met?" Azriel teased, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of Zahra's hair from her face.

Zahra huffed in response to Azriel's teasing, but there was a smile on her face.

"Of course not," she said with feigned indignation. Zahra wrapped her arms around him and their daughter, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I'm simply astounded by your ability to spoil me and our daughter so thoroughly."

Azriel chuckled, pulling her closer to him, his wings enveloping them both.

"It's not spoiling if it's deserved," he replied, his voice low and husky as his lips brushed against her neck.

A proper bed was in the bedroom now, big enough for them to share, even if Azalea slept with them, which Azriel thought was quite likely.

Zahra stole Azalea who looked around wide eyed and showed her the kitchen her soft voice carrying through the room.

Azriel just watched.

He was filled with a sense of contentment as he watched them together, his chest filing with warmth

The sight of his wife and daughter exploring their new home…he couldn't imagine a life better than this, a family more perfect than what he had.

Rhys? he reached out carefully. We are home.

As Azriel reached out through their link, Rhys’ voice filtered into his mind.

You're home? Everything alright?

The concern in his voice was plain, his tone laced with worry, his surprise palpable.

Everything's fine, Azriel reassured him quickly, his answer swift. The last thing he wanted was for Rhys to be concerned or worried. We're alright. No need to panic. Zahra wanted to bring Azalea home.

Zahra wants to bring her home? Rhys echoed through their mental connection, bewilderment evident in his voice.

Yes, she wanted her home, Azriel affirmed, his voice calm and steady.

He could sense Rhys’ trepidation though, the question in his mind before he even asked it.

A question that they both knew the answer to.

I doubt we'll be able to keep her sisters away for much longer, Rhys warned him quietly.

Azriel's lips pressed into a thin line at Rhys's words, a wave of irritation rising in him.

He knew that. But that didn't meant that Azriel was a fan of it.

If they upset my wife or my daughter, I won't stand for it, he growled.

He knew Rhys could sense his anger through their mental connection, the protectiveness he felt for Zahra and Azalea.

For a moment it was quiet. Then...Your wife? Rhys demanded. Azriel?!

Azriel sighed, realizing that Rhys had picked up on his unintentional slip. He hadn't meant to reveal the truth just yet, but it seemed that he had inadvertently done just that.

Yes, my wife, he admitted softly.

You got married and didn't tell me?! Rhys's voice thundered across their minds in clear surprise and shock.

His reaction was predictable, but Azriel could hear the hint of offence in his voice.

You should shut up, we didn't know about you and feyre either, he shot back.

That's different, was Rhys's only response through the link, his voice almost whining.

Azriel rolled his eyes; Rhys was the High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful being in their world, and yet he was sulking like a child.

We just wanted something small, just for us, Azriel answered with a mental shrug.

I probably shouldn't even be surprised, Rhys said with a sigh.

We didn't want Azalea to be a bastard, Azriel offered with some amusement.

Rhys’ sigh sounded through the link again before his brother replied through the mental connection.

So you are just being responsible. That’s a first, Rhys teased though his mind, Cassian will insist on throwing you a party, he warned.

Azriel rolled his eyes again; he could already imagine the glee in Cassian's eyes when he found out.

His brother would be relentless.

Let him try, he shot back. He won't get past the shadows.

Rhys laughed aloud at that, the sound echoing through their mental connection.

You underestimate his determination. You know there will be a party, whether you like it or not, Rhys insisted, his tone laced with amusement.

***

Zahra looked around the cottage as she held their daughter in her arms, her eyes taking in the sight of the new furniture and decorations.

There was a new bed, a rocking chair, and toys and supplies for their baby all over the cottage.

“You really went all out,” she said aloud.

But she loved it. She loved all of it.

The cottage had been hers since she won it in that stupid card game...but now...now it was a proper home. Their home. Home for Zahra and her family, for her mate and her daughter. Nothing that she thought she would ever have.

Nothing that she would ever want to lose.

She watched as Azriel settled onto the horrible armchair, his large form taking up the space. He spread his wings out behind him, the sight of them making the space look even smaller. He patted his lap, a clear invitation.

She understood the silent gesture and moved over to him, taking a seat on his lap, their baby on her lap.

Azriel's arms encircled them both, holding them close as he wrapped his wings around them, enveloping them in his warmth.

He dropped a kiss on top of her head, his breathing slow and steady, his heartbeat calm and comforting.

She let her head rest against his chest as his hand moved to stroke Azalea's head.

"I told Rhys about the wedding," he said softly.

Zahra chuckled at that, leaning her head back to look at him.

“How did he take it?” her eyes were filled with curiosity.

Azriel chuckled as well, his fingers gently stroking along her leg, his touch warm and comforting.

“As well as you could expect,” he replied, his voice filled with amusement. “He was shocked and offended that we didn’t tell him or invite him to the wedding. His ego may never recover.”

Zahra just snorted. "It was perfect," she disagreed. "Just us." Just the way she liked it.

The shadows swarmed around them at that, playing with her hair and Azalea squealed as she reached out for one swirling tendril. It held still for her, letting pudgy baby hands grip at it and wove through her fingers excitedly.

Azriel chuckled at the sight their daughter's interaction with his shadows.

"She likes them, huh?" Azriel observed, his voice filled with humour.

Zahra watched as Azalea's pudgy baby hands gripped at the tendril, her wide eyes watching it intently. She couldn’t help but giggle at the look of intense concentration on Azalea’s face.

Another tendril unceremoniously dumped a velvet jewellery box on Zahra's lap at that moment. Like a silent We need to do everything around here!

Zahra's eyebrows rose as the box appeared in her lap, her gaze moving from the box to Azriel.

"And what is this?" she asked, the corner of her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh.

"Open it and find out," Azriel said drily.

Zahra chuckled and rolled her eyes, but her fingers lifted the lid off the box anyway.

She couldn't help her curiosity. As she looked inside, her eyebrows lifted again. "Oh," she breathed, her eyes widening as she took in the contents.

Two matching gold wedding bands laid there in the velvet. Simple. Unassuming.

She had never loved any piece of jewellery more, as she lifted the bigger one to slide it over Azriel's ring finger.

Azriel watched silently as she put the ring on his finger, his expression tender and soft.

And as she moved to put her own ring on, his hand stopped her.

"No," he said firmly, his voice low and demanding. She looked at him, surprised by his denial. "Why?" she protested, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Azriel gave her a sly smile as he took the smaller ring from her hands, his fingers gently caressing her skin.

"Because that’s my job,” he said simply.

Zahra's breath caught in her throat at his words, the intensity in his voice making her heart race. She swallowed, her eyes darting between the ring and his face. "Is that so?" she replied, the words coming out huskier than she’d intended.

Azriel's lips curled into a smirk as he heard the change in her voice. His grip on her hand tightened as he brought her fingers up to his lips, his eyes darkened further as he kissed them softly.

He took the ring then in his free hand, holding it between them. "It is," he answered firmly. "I am your husband."

Her lips parted in surprise at his demand, a flutter of anticipation in her chest. Azriel's eyes remained focused on hers, his gaze burning with a possessiveness that should have scared her.

Instead, all it did was make her want him more.

Her mind went blank as he gently picked up her ring finger and, with a single fluid movement, eased the gold wedding band over it.

Zahra’s heart skipped a beat when he slid the ring onto her finger, his touch lingering on her hand for a moment longer than necessary.

He held up her hand and turned it gently, studying the ring on her finger with an expression of satisfaction.

"It looks good on you," he said, his voice low and rough. His gaze flicked up to hers, his eyes almost glittering.

Azalea took that moment to yawn. Zahra couldn’t help but coo slightly. Azalea's little yawn caught Azriel's attention, and his gaze immediately moved to the baby in her lap. His lips curled into a soft smile at the sight of her.

"Someone's sleepy," he said, his voice filled with affection.

He reached out his hand to run it over her soft hair, watching as the baby's eyes fluttered closed.

“Let’s lay her down for a nap and I’ll tell Violet that we are back home,” Zahra said softly. And probably ask her for…well. They needed to figure out the childcare situation after all. No more 10 hours days hunched over her kitchen table..but then she had made quite the dent in the accounts of a few decades already.

Azriel nodded, his eyes still fixed on their sleeping daughter.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he agreed, his voice soft. "I'll take her."

He stood up, carefully picking up Azalea in his arms. The baby shifted slightly, but then settled back into a deep, peaceful sleep against his chest.

Zahra had not expected for Violet to show up at her front door 3 hours later, out of breath and shoving a gift bag into Zahra’s arms. “The next time you get a baby, I need a forewarning!” Violet declared. Zahra couldn’t help laughing heartily, her eyes glittering in amusement.

Violet’s declaration and the breathlessness in her voice were priceless. She took the gift from her friend’s hands. “You want to meet her?” Zahra teased, her voice filled with affection.

Violet, still huffing and catching her breath, gave her a mock glare. "You really are not funny," she said in an irritated tone.

But despite her irritation, there was a small hint of a smile on her lips. Zahra could see the affection in her eyes.

“Of course I do!” Violet said brightly.

Zahra opened the door wide.

As Violet entered the cottage, her eyes immediately went to Azalea and Azriel, who were sitting on the floor, engrossed in their game.

She watched as Azriel carefully played with their daughter, his big hands surprisingly gentle and tender.

The sight was nothing less than heart melting.

“Oh, she’s adorable,” Violet cooed. Zahra chuckled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement.

She had never expected her friend to swoon like an enamored girl.

“She is, isn’t she?” Zahra agreed with a smile, her heart swelling with maternal pride.

Violet moved further into the room, her eyes still fixed on Azalea as she stepped closer to them.

Zahra watched as the baby giggled happily, her tiny hand reaching out to grab Azriel's fingers.

Zahra could see the tender look in Azriel's eyes as he played with their daughter, his expression filled with love and adoration. And then Azalea spied Violet and started at her wide eyed, dark eyes fixed on the purple wings sprouting from Violet’s back.

She stared at them intently, her expression filled with fascination and awe.

Azriel chuckled at his daughter's reaction, his hand gently stroking her head.

"Seems like she’s quite interested in your wings," he commented, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

He watched as Azalea reached out a small hand toward Violet, her tiny fingers grasping for the shimmering wings.

Violet couldn't help but smile at the baby's interest.

She bent down slightly, bringing her wings closer to Azalea, giving her a better view.

Zahra chuckled at the scene before her.

"Yeah, she’s like a moth drawn to a flame," she joked.

Azalea’s small hand grabbed onto Violet’s wing, her grasp surprisingly firm for such a small baby.

She tugged at the wing gently, clearly curious about the strange appendage.

Violet winced slightly at the unexpected grip but laughed, not seeming bothered by it.

Azriel shook his head, amused by the scene unfolding before him.

"Careful, she's surprisingly strong for being so small," he warned, a fond smile on his face.

Violet just laughed. “Gods, she’s adorable,” she gushes. “Yes, you are!” She cooed at Azalea.

Azalea beamed at the attention, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Her tiny hand released its grip on Violet's wing and she clapped her hands together, as if applauding the compliment.

Zahra chuckled at her daughter's reaction. "She likes you," she observed.

“Clearly,” Violet agreed, her smile growing wider. “She has impeccable taste.”

She reached out a finger, gently tickling Azalea's stomach, prompting the baby to giggle and squirm.

Zahra watched the exchange between her baby and her best friend, her heart swelling with happiness.

"I think she has a talent for endearing herself to everyone," Azriel added, his voice filled with pride.

He watched as Violet continued to interact with their daughter, her hand moving from Azalea's stomach to her tiny hands, which clutched at Violet's finger.

"Must get that from her mother," Violet teased, giving Zahra a playful wink.

Zahra snorted in response, rolling her eyes but unable to contain the smile on her face.

"Oh, please. I don’t see you being immune to her either," she shot back.

Violet laughed out loud at that, admitting defeat with a shrug. "Touché. Your baby’s too cute for her own good."

She turned her attention back to Azalea, her eyes sparkling with playfulness.

Azalea responded gleefully to the attention, her wide eyes fixed on Violet, her attention unwavering as if she couldn’t get enough of her. She cooed and babbled, her hands continuing to grasp at Violet’s finger.

Azriel chuckled at the interaction, enjoying the way his daughter was so enthralled by his mate's friend.

He exchanged a glance with Zahra, his smile mirroring hers.

Zahra couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. Seeing her daughter enjoying herself and being showered by adoration was a sight she could get used to.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Stars all aligned

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auroblaze · 1 year ago

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Sonic Frontiers DLC dropped and since then I've been consumed and obsessed to put it lightly, that on spare times at work I stopped to doodle down what I thought The End could've been like 👀👉👈

More thoughts in depth about the final boss after the cut:

Okay so here's the thing, I went into the final battle expecting it to be like the one from the base game but with, more ( like most of us did I assume). The fact is, while technically it was like that, I found myself missing some details I liked from the original one, such as obviously The End's speech and the overall vibe... heck I made a three pages comic about it, so SOMETHING was done right there, otherwise it wouldn't have me inspired at all.

The new final battle was still a great spectacle to me, mind you! It genuinely hyped me through the whole run! I simply was expecting The End to eventually reveal it's...not even true form I guess, because it says to have multiple incarnations and I think that kind of makes sense. But A different form from the gigantic moon would've been pretty dope to see nontheless. From the trailer I was sure that the "seven arms possessed Supreme" was gonna take the place of regular Supreme. I didn't quite get why The End would use Supreme again since the first time clearly didn't work..? I mean the battle was still amazing but frankly there are many choices in the story I didn't understand djfhgdg... I hope the next title puts some more effort on the story too because they are really *so close*!

I started to think that, since the game proposes you as island/level bosses the Titans... as something different (as it usually works for the final battles in sonic games) it could have worked that The End was gonna fight Sonic at his level, almost his size. I mean the game is clearly full of anime references so this wouldn't have been that much weird to see lmao.

The last picture in this post was actually the first bunch of sketches I did before the release of the DLC. At first I imagined The End as like, an alien death's-head hawkmoth (Acherontia atropos if u prefer) that could shapeshift in different adversaries based on Sonic's memories, right because of its speech to him about "seeing into his mind" and all his past challenges. I wanted also to add another anime influence on his appearence by making it kind of like the Anti-Spiral boss from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann.

The sketches AFTER the DLC are also various other ideas from the brainrot sjghdf, it's mostly The End picking the Ancients' technology design as mockery, and Sonic going all-out continues to be a thing because that genuinely slapped👀👀👀

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #sonic frontiers spoilers #sonic frontiers the final horizon #sonic frontiers dlc spoilers #my art #auroblaze art #I'll probably edit the text after dinner to add something about one of the designs here

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emeritusemeritus · 23 days ago

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Hi love! If it's not too much to ask, could you maybe do a Fred fic with a bit of an insecure reader? As in, she hears some people say nasty things about her (mainly about appearance like weight) and her relationship with Fred, and she distances herself from him until one day she really can't handle staying away from him anymore? Sweet sweet fluff with a bit of making out by the end, maybe?

Hi Anon, I’m sorry this took so long! I tried to write it as if it was an insecure monologue, a little jumpy and janky like how the reader’s thought process would be. I hope you like it! 🖤

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, verbal abuse, taunting, talks of breakups, appearance and other issues, negative mentions of weight. Kissing, implied sexual references. Happy ending I promise!

Word count: 2.7k

Fire and Ice

It wasn't easy being Fred Weasley's girlfriend.

Being with Fred, falling in love with him- that part was easy; but having such an extroverted, popular joker for a boyfriend was at times, not so easy.

You were quieter by nature, a little more introverted and a lot more insecure than Fred but you seemed to balance each other out well most of the time, ying and yang, fire and ice. Fred was always quick to silence your hateful internal monologue whenever it presented itself, reminding you that you were beautiful, important, loved- all the things he wanted you to feel, the way that he saw you. But sometimes the insecurities were too much, the voices in your head too loud that you began to believe them again.

Fred had been busy, the tri-wizard tournament had been announced and him and George were trying everything they could to work around the age restriction but upon the application. They’d been virtually locked in their dorm for days researching different ideas and brewing potions that would age them up, though you doubted it would work, they always surprised you in the end.

Their reclusion could not have come at a worse time for you, though of course you would never mention anything. You’d been stood in front of Fred when the students had gathered to watch the regal, horse-drawn carriage fly over the tips of the trees in the forbidden forest and across the Great Lake led by the majestic white winged horses that made it look effortless and well, magical. You’d stood with pure excitement as you watched the magnificent ship emerge from underneath the water and sail towards the bank until you’d all be called away for the feast.

Your excitement had dwindled almost immediately when the girls of Beauxbatons glided through the door in a whimsical and captivating display, grabbing everyone’s attention for their beauty and elegance- including Fred. You’d seen Ron look flabbergasted, a fresh pink hue on his cheeks as he looked upon the girls with mouth agape and a glazed look in his eye and couldn’t help but avert your eyes slightly to see Fred looking at them in a much tamer way, but seeing his eyes fixed upon them nontheless. It pulled at every single one of your heartstrings, that familiar sinking feeling in your gut instantly making you nauseated by the food in front of you.

Their uniforms were delicate and beautiful, tailored perfectly of the finest satin in such a rich colour that it was both feminine and powerful all in one. You couldn’t help but look away from Fred, from anything and began to pick at the edge of your frumpy school cardigan, suddenly disgusted by its mere existence.

When Dumbledore announced the entrance of Durmstrang, you didn’t even look up, already too consumed by your own self-deprecating thoughts. The uniform you’d once been so proud to wear now felt like a potato sack in comparison, shapeless and bland from head to toe. You suddenly wanted to get away, to do anything you could to get out of the shapeless mess and to prove to yourself and to others around you that you weren’t just a blob of blended wool and scruffy hair that had been haphazardly thrown into a high pony ahead of your long day of travelling back to school. But there was nothing you could do, forced to sit there in a mass of unflattering garments next to your boyfriend who had been looking at much more attractive females and pretend to be fine. Thankfully the arrival of professor Moody was enough to prompt serious discussion around you and you could blend into the background without notice, eating only tiny bits and slipping away before the end of the meal.

It continued for days, the stab in your side whenever you’d see the Beauxbatons girls in their pretty uniforms looking so sweet and dainty, often followed around by drooling boys that quivered with their every move. You were jealous, but you wouldn’t admit it, choosing instead to be disgusted by it all and very much wanting it all to be over and for them to be gone. You couldn’t forget the expression on Fred’s face when they made their grand entrance and the pain that it brought when you did remember. You’d never doubted his love for you, not really, though of course you doubted why he chose you in the first place- did he now regret that decision?

It had been days since you’d seen him and the messages he’d initially sent through Lee had dwindled to none, meaning that you were so out of communication that you felt that stinging dread all over again- was he preparing to break up? Had he found someone else? Someone undoubtedly prettier in a powder blue satin uniform?

So when you finally caught sight of that gorgeous red head in the hallway, you lit up, excited to finally get the chance to talk to him. You heard his laugh and smiled to yourself, feeling relieved already- until you noticed he was laughing with one of them. She was pretty, brown hair tucked perfectly into her blue hat and her satin cape bellowing perfectly around her.

Something inside you felt out of place all of a sudden, enraged by the injustice and the inevitable ending to your relationship. You were angry at everything, most notably Fred, the Beauxbatons, the whole stupid competition. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you realised that if Fred wanted out, he could have one of the stupid French girls.

You were sat in the great hall with Hermione quietly reading when you heard a group of people moving excitedly towards the cup which broke your concentration. You watched as Cedric Diggory placed his name in the cup and his friends cheered for him, smacking him on the back in a hearty well done when he suddenly stopped upon making eye contact with you and sent you a little smile of recognition. You smiled back with a little head nod and watched as his friends dragged him away, leaving the room in relative peace once again.

That was until Fred and George came barrelling into the room, their distinctive blend of voices crying out and echoing through the hall as they high five students across the benches, proudly clutching hold of something in their hands, professing that ‘they’d done it’.

You could barely look at them, for the first time not caring in the slightest about what they had created.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione says from beside you and immediately you are met with their bodies either side of Hermione. You feel Fred’s hand on your shoulder, a little touch that should have given you hope but actually felt repulsive to you. You didn’t even look up from your page, nor acknowledge their arrival and if Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything- though you could feel his eyes in you. The second the Triwizard cup fought back against their tricks, propelling them into the air and forcing them back into the ground with a definitive thud, you were gone. You walked back towards the common room without so much as a glance, not caring to find out the predicted result of their attempt.

“I would just die if I had to wear their uniforms!” You heard from around the corner in a thick French accent that had you rolling your eyes. The stupid little French cackles reached your ears and it was all that you could do not to petrify them on the spot as you attempted to walk straight past them.

“Oh” one of them said, spotting you emerging from around the corner. Another small fit of laughter that was hardly concealed, upon seeing someone in the exact uniform they were mocking.

“Does it feel as frumpy as it looks?” Another one said, her accent almost indecipherable. You shot daggers at the group of four witches and tried to get past but they blocked you in.

“You’re with the tall redhead yes? I’ve seen you,” the blonde one says, making your stomach lurch at her mention of Fred. “He’s cute.”

You don’t retaliate, though you can think of many choice words you wish to say to her, presuming you didn’t reach for your wand first. Their words cut into you like a knife, though you try to block out the harsher things they say about your appearance, your weight, your ugly uniform. Only when they bright up Fred again do your barricades fall, their words tearing you apart.

“It’s funny actually, that he chose you. You look more of a girl he’d want to be friends with, definitely not one to be in love with.”

The final nail in the coffin for you was the round of laughter that echoed throughout the corridor, following you in your mind straight back to the common room until the second you passed out that night, still sobbing into your pillow.

The next morning, your eyes were virtually swollen shut from all the tears shed the night before. You felt retched, all of your fears coming true as the beautiful girls laughed at you, hitting every one of your insecurities. They may as well have called you fat, ugly, all the other things you knew about yourself but never said out loud.

You didn’t go to classes that day, never even attempting to step foot out of the dormitory or even your bed until you were certain everyone had left. You looked an ungodly mess with red puffy eyes and a mass of tangled hair that felt like a limp weight on top of your head. The tears started again within seconds of reaching the bathroom mirror, silently falling down your cheeks and landing in little droplets into the sink. You sobbed for your sorry appearance, for the loss of Fred and for the unfairness in life. Why couldn’t you just be pretty?

You eventually crawled back into bed, not even bothering to sort out the disastrous mess upon your head and forced yourself to go back to sleep, pushing all thoughts of him and them out of your head.

Three days you’d been confined to your bedroom, feigning a migraine that had managed to convince even Mcgonagall and Hermione. Ginny had tried to relay multiple messages from Fred, both verbally and in writing but you’d feigned a worsening headache, nausea and other ailments and asked her politely but definitively to leave, rendering the message unheard. You’d heard all about Harry’s selection from Hermione and how he and Ron were fighting but you’d barely listened to any of it, too consumed by your own issues.

The fourth day, you made it out of bed only to remember that it was a Saturday. You considered slipping back into bed and ignoring the sun completely but your bladder disagreed with your plan vehemently. You wandered to the bathroom and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror.

You looked so sad, so broken that it made your heart constrict a little, seeing a sad little girl staring back at you. You look younger somehow, like a first year all over again. Memories flash beneath your eyes, memories of meeting Fred for the first time, of being young and falling in love, of being the girl that he fell in love with.

Ignoring the vague rumbling of your food deprived stomach, you rush into the showers and attempt to untangle your hair using every product you can find. You shave, condition, lotion up your entire body and make a start on magically fixing your puffy face. You’re on a mission to look your best, to show those petty and judgemental bitches that you were just as worthy as them and more importantly, that you were definitely someone that Fred would- and did- love.

You dried your hair and curled it using a spell you’d found in an old teen magazine that worked surprisingly well and stood back to look at the result, feeling pleased. You looked like yourself again but better, happier.

You dressed in a nicer than usual outfit that was still casual but actually highlighted your curves rather than hiding them, something you knew that Fred liked after years of compliments on your curves. You momentarily considered grabbing a cardigan incase your confidence weakened but thought against it, instead grabbing a jumper than you’d stolen from Fred a year ago. You felt feminine and pretty for the first time in ages and actually smiled when you look in the mirror one last time.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Ginny said as you stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door from where she had walked back into the dorm, realising that everyone else was now awake. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied honestly, smiling and nodding a little.Want to get breakfast?”

“I was going to have a shower, Fred’s down there though, he’ll go with you I bet,” Ginny says, grabbing a towel and her bathing stuff. You pursed your lips, not letting the glow fade as you nodded at her, butterflies starting to flutter about in your belly.

Walking down to the common room, your nerves were already starting to build as you scanned the room with your eyes, searching for the one person you hoped to see. The guilt of hiding from him, of pushing away was eating you up and you wanted nothing more than to just make it right. You spot George and Lee in one of the corners, Harry and Hermione on one of the sofas and a few more people dotted around but no Fred.

“Blimey,” you heard to your left but instead of seeing the boy you’d hoped to find, instead you found Ron. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking at you with an expression he’d never looked at you with before, focusing uncomfortably on a piece of your chest never wished to have his eyes.

You flinched as you watched Ron get smacked in the back of the head unexpectedly, making him wince and rub his head but you didn’t see anymore after his initial reaction, instead focusing your attention on his assailant. Fred.

“Look at my girl like that again and I’ll transfigure every piece of furniture in your room into a spider,” he says gruffly as he walks past Ron, keeping his eyes on you and moves to stand directly in front of you, reaching for your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” He says carefully, eyeing you with slight trepidation, making you frown.

“Much better,” you reply carefully, watching his reaction.

“Good, then I won’t feel guilty for this,” he says, pulling you forcibly by the hand until you bump into his chest, his lips finding yours almost immediately as he kisses you with a fiery passion.

“You look so hot,” he mumbles against your lips, hands finding your synched waist and bordering on inappropriately low as one hand tucks into your back pocket. You kiss back with just as much passion, happy that all the doubts and the insecurity had been wiped away, though you still felt guilty for pushing him away. “You’re never hiding from me again.”

He begins to tug at your side and you realise he’s pulling you away, towards the stairs to the dorms.

“But Freddie, breakfast,” you weakly protest.

“Can wait,” he mumbles, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he barely parts from you, only enough to push you up the stairs towards his empty dorm, giving you a teasing smack on the ass as you ascend, for good luck. You never doubted his love for you again, especially not for the next hour.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #completed requests #request closed #requests

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nerdburritos · 1 year ago

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You Taste Like The Sun

Summary: You've been invited to attend the annual noble's ball, hosted by no other than Lord Astarion Ancunìn himself. While you father was busy hunting possible husbands for you, the Lord himself couldn't keep his eyes off you. You had no idea that by the end of the night, you'd be engaged to your host - if it wasn't for one tiny detail: you've never even been kissed before. Maybe Lord Ancunìn could help you with that?

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader | Astarion/f!Tav rating: mature tags/warnings: kissing, fluff, arranged marriage word count: 2.6k read on ao3: You Taste Like The Sun

a/n: english isn't my first language so please excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors!

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The ballroom was absolutely packed with noble people but what did you expect? The annual ball hosted by Lord Ancunìn was not to be missed, it was considered a huge honour to be invited at all. It was your first time attending this year, you father dragged you along with him in hopes of finally finding a possible husband for you, even though that was the last thing you wanted. You enjoyed your freedom, loved your studies and had no need for a man in your life. "They're like children!" your mother once said, but she'd been smiling while looking at your father. They were in love, you've never been, it's a feeling you've yet to experience. Most people your age with your social status were usually married to someone of equal status, love or not, before ending up alone but you've always needed something more - a real connection, trust and at least the possibility of love. The so called "suitors" your family had in mind offered none of that. You sighed, sorting out your beautiful ball gown, before you picked up another flute of champagne, making your way across the room to greet some more pople, have some small talk - it'd be considered rude not to. Before you could reach Lady Belgamour at the end of the room you felt something, or rather someone, bump into you, spilling the champagne all over your expensive dress, you mother would be furious.

"Forgive me, my Lady, how terribly rude of me!" a dark, husky voice immediatley apologized, an arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. You looked up, it was your host, Lord Ancunìn. He was dressed in a white doublet with gold ebroidery as well as matching slacks which complimented his pale skin tone and white-greyish hair fabously. He almost looked like an angel, if it wasn't for the red eyes. A fallen angel, maybe. Your host took out a silk handkerchief, proceeding to try and clean your delicate dress and you blushed at his attention. He was an incredibly attractive man, a bachelor nontheless, the whole city was after him - young women, old women, married women, hells - even men! He pocketed his handekrchief, making eye contact with you once again. "I'm sorry about your dress, I'll cover the expense for the dry cleaner, of course." Gods, he relly had some stellar manners.

"O-oh Lord Ancunìn, this is not necessary, I did not watch where I was going, it was entirely my fault..." You studdered - of course you'd embarrass yourself in front of the most powerful and attractive man in the city.

"Nonsense, I'll take care of it. Now, I don't think we've been formerly introduced yet, I'm Lord Astarion Ancunìn and you are?" You qucikly introduced youself, bowing slightly as you've been taught, he was a Lord after all, and Astarion gently took your hand, placing a sweet kiss on top of it. "A pleasure, my Lady. I've been wondering when you would finally grace us with your presence, you father is keeping you sheltered but I can hardly blame him with a daughter as beautiful as you." Your face turned beet red at his honeyed words, which Astarion seemed to enjoy, he was quite the sweet talker. The attentions of men were not unfamiliar to you but none of them had a way with words like Astarion did. The Lord offered his arm. "May I have this dance, my Lady?" You could see your father from the distance, looking quite happy about your current situation with the Lord, he probably got his hopes up already. You linked your arm with Astarion's and followed him to the dancefloor, where he immediately settled one hand on your waist, pushing you closer to him and began to flawlessy lead you through a Waltz. He was an exceptional dancer and your heart raced being so close to him. He smelled faintly of bergamot and rosemary,a really nice and sexy combination. Truth to be told, he was everything you could wish for - handsome, polite, a great dancer and true gentleman but something inside you told you that there was more to thim that just that but what was it? Maybe he might be a freak in the sheets? You certainly hoped so and giggled. Astarion lowered his gaze, smiking slightly.

"Are my dance skills so terribly amusing?" he joked, twirling you around the dancefloor playfully, catching you in his arms again as the other guests applauded with delight.

"Oh no, my Lord." you laughed as he spun you around. "I'm simply enjoying myself."

"I am glad to hear that such a stunning Lady is enjoying my company, I do feel very honoured." And there was that damned blush on your face again. You could simply not deal with open and honest compliments from handsome and succesful men like him apparently. But maybe it wasn't even the compliments, maybe it was just him...and he was so aware of it. A smug smirk was gracing his lips. Maybe he had a thing of riling innocent little things like you up? It didn't really matter now, did it? The Waltz came to a stop, Astarion now bowing in front of you. "It was a pleasure, my Lady. How about a stroll in the gardens to cool down a bit?" He offered his arm again with a soft smile.

"But your other guests..."

"Can very well deal without me. Please, allow me." Astarion guided you out of the ballroom into the lavish gardens, one hand around you waist once again but still keeping a respectful distance. The gardens were beautiful, decorated with more fairy lights than you could count, creating an almost magical environment with all the differend kinds of flowers blooming at this time of the year.

"What a beautiful garden." You complimented, attempting to make small talk. You were feeling quite nervous in his presence, hoping you wouldn't embarrass yourself again. Normally, you'd not give a single shit about the opinion of a man but Astarion was different somehow, even though you just met him. He was different than all of them and not just because he was richer than all of the Lords combined but because his efforts with you seemend honest, almost genuine. Or maybe it was all a very practiced act, a façade, you weren't quite sure but wasn't it all? In a world full of arranged marriages, a façade was all they could offer.

"Thank you." He seemed quite happy with your compliment. "So, do you like flowers?" You nodded enthusiastically and started to ramble about your passion for gardening (which was unbecoming for a Lady, your maid has said) and favorite kinds of flowers. Astarion seemd intrigued - he actually listened and nodded at the right times before picking up a tiny flower, tucking it into your hair. "Beautiful." he whispered and you weren't quite sure if he meant the flower or you. You wandered further into the gardens, the noise from the palace nearly dying down and reached a small lake. "So, you father told me you're exceeing expectations in your studies?"

"Oh dear." you laughed. "My father can't help but praise me, apparently." Astarion laughed.

"It's all he does at our annual meetings. He's quite proud, you know." A warm feeling settled in your stomach, making your family proud was one of the most important things for you. You father has been working so hard after all. "And I can't blame him I mean, by the God's, look at you." he whispered.

"I...uh...what?" you studdered, now that was really not ladylike at all, you maid would scowl you for that.

"You're breathtaking." Astarion admitted. The High Lord himself admitted that you, you of all people, were breathtaking. You had no idea how to deal with that information.

"Oh, my Lord. There are far prettier creatures out there than me." You chuckled but telling the truth. You didn't think of yourself as beautiful or smart or anything else, you were normal, average even. Your lack of self-esteem usually really bothered your mother but it was the truth after all, wasn't it?

"No." he shook his head. "They all just pretend to be." Astarion snarled. "They pretend to be pretty, while throwing on all the make up they possess. You are naturally beautiful. The way your freckles shine in the moonlight is spectacular." he whispered, taking a few steps closer to you. "You are an exceptional dancer, none of them could even compare and you have manners, you behave like a Lady while still having quite some spite..." You whole body went rigid. Shit.

"My Lord, if any of my actions have offended you..." Astarion waved you off immediately.

"Not at all, my dear. I did quite enjoy it, actually. I have no use for a wife who just serves and lives to obey, where is the fun in that? While I appreciate your perfect manners, I do hope you have a few naughty sides." He smirked while you let his words sink in. No use for a wife? Wife? Wife. Wife! Oh Gods...

"W-wife, my Lord?" you asked carefully, staring in disbelief as he pulled you closer to him.

"Why, of course. That's why you're here, isn't it? I'm sure you're aware that you father is searching for a husband for you." You huffed, of course he was, that's why he dragged you along in the first place. "Trust me, a few of his candidates shouldn't even be up for discussion, vile creatures, like they deserve you..." he snapped. "But I'm quite sad he didn't consider me." Astarion pouted palyfully, trying to ease the tension. You weren't sure if your family was in huge trouble because your father never considered him or if he was just playing with you.

"Lord Ancunìn, I am sure my father meant no harm!" you quickly explained. "We are far below your status, surely you would never consider the daughter of a simple-" He shut you up by placing a finger on your mouth.

"Don't tell me what I want." He stated calmly, pulling you flush agsinst him. "I guess your father would be more than pleased with me as your future husband." You had no idea what to say. This was not the way you imagined the night would go. "Or you could go on and marry one of the other fools if you so please." You quickly shook your head. No, never, worst nightmare. Astarion was the perfect choice, your parents would be over the moon, surely. "Well, then it's settled."

"Why do you even need a wife?" You quickly blurted out, immediately regeretting your choice of words but you couldn't help but wonder. Had he ulterior moves?

"Well, first of all it grants me, and you family, a certain political immunity. Two Lords combining forces and families is something to be considered across the realms, an alliance would be helpful for both sides and to be frank? Society expects a marriage from both of us. So why not work together, hm?" he smirked. "I don't want to marry the next decent girl. My wife should be educated in all kinds of things, well read, strong political knowledge, perfectly mannered and kind while still being herself. I don't want a doll who obeys all my commands - I want a partner, an advisor. I can see you filling that position more than anyone." That was good enough for you. You knew that if you didn't take him up for his offer, you father would quickly find someone else - someone worse. There was no better match than Lord Astarion Ancunìn, you basically won the jackpot.

"Very well, I agree." Astarion smirked.

"In that case, let's seal the deal as any lovers would." he commented playfully and leaned closer, tilting his head towards yours...oh my God, he was going to kiss you. You quickly put some distance between him and yourself, Astarion took a few steps back.

"Excuse me. I meant no harm, I assure you." he quickly apologized. Yes, the Lord had quite the reptutation amongst the noble women (apparently he was an exeptional lover, quite selfless) but he seemed really distraught by your refusal. Not hurt but angry at himself. Ugh, it's not like you didn't want to kiss him, there was just a tiny issue...

"I've never been kissed." you quickly blurted out, blushing with embarrasment as you stared at the ground, your heels seeming quite interesting all of a sudden. Astarion froze, then he smirked and closed the distance between you two once again. He quickly placed a gentle, warm hand on your cheek, grasping your chin with other hand, lifting our face up to meet his gaze.

"That's what this is about?" he asked gently, you nodded. Well, it's not like you had the chance to practice a lot without a proper partner. "I didn't mean to pressure you." You nodded, feeling relived. So he did care about consent - good. "I just thought a beautiful Lady like you had thousands of opportunities..." you gasped, he smirked.

"What kind of Lady do you take me for? A common harlot?" Astarion laughed, and what a beautiful sound it was.

"Oh no, my love, absolutely not but men are vile creatures so please do forgive me." You chuckled, still in his arms as he gazed down at you almost lovingly. "Sooooo, about that kiss..."

"You scoundrel!" You giggled as you playfully pushed him, he seemed to enjoy teasing you. "But I guess I can indulge you? It might not be good..." you warned, your heart already racing, you'd probably make a fool out of yourself in a few seconds. He had all this experience and you didn't...

"Nonsense!" he took your face in both hands, gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and placed a gentle but long peck on your lips - nothing more. A sweet, gentle kiss without any intentions but full of adoration and respect. You gasped as he pulled back, the Lord looking quite smug already. "How was that?" Astarion asked as you touched your lips.

"Really nice." you admitted. Nice? It felt incredible. His lips were so soft, the pressure was perfect, this man made your knees weak. You wanted more.

You leaned forward slightly, placing another gentle kiss to his lips as he gave you a reassuring smile and pulled you closer to him, not allowing you to part, keeping your lips pressed together. He let out a husky chuckle against your lips as he finally took a tiny step back. You already missed the feeling of his lips pressed against yours, he was addicting.

"Want some more?" Astarion whispered and you eagerly nodded. This little..tryst in the depths of his garden was highly uncalled for but you didn't even care anymore. He pressed a series of quick pecks on your lips, making you gasp before catching your bottom lip between his and sucking. You moaned, he immediately turned the innocent pecks into a full-blown open mouth kiss as you mimicked his actions, kissing him deeply for a few seconds before you felt something warm and wet enter your mouth. His tongue. You froze but Astarion rubbed small circles into your lower back, helping you relax as you let his tongue enter your mouth. It felt weird but somehow good. Gods, you couldnt believe this. This morning you were just an ordinary woman and now, not even 12 hours later, you were engaged and snogging Lord Ancunìn. You felt Astarion move, he pressed you against a nearby tree, caging you in with his strong arms as he continued to kiss you sensually. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he let out a gentle moan, which turned you on tremendously. You parted, both gasping for air.

"You taste wonderful, my love." he murmured before leaning in again, brushing his lips softly against yours. "I can't help myself but get lost in you."

You blushed at his sweet words, maybe this whole marriage thing wouldn't end so bad after all?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion romance #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #ascended astarion #vampire

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just-a-ghost00 · 2 months ago

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What blessing is coming your way?

Group 1

5 of pentacles, 10 of swords, Black Numen, Hanged man back of the deck

A period of isolation is coming for you. You may lose relationships, resources or situations that mattered to you and feel really sad about it. You may consider this as a betrayal or as life abandoning you. But the reality is that these changes and endings are important for you to shift your perspective and slow your roll. There were things you were not seeing or overlooking and in order for you to get back to light and clarity, the Universe is momentarily putting you in the dark. This is a blessing in disguise. And I know, how scary and depressing that sounds. Believe me I've been there. This will be a cleasing time for you. Things and people that were no longer serving you or were detrimental to your well being and progress will leave your life without you even having to lift a finger. Once you are able to understand why this is happening in your life and see past the darkness and confusion that surrounds this phase, you will then progress significantly and quickly go back to a better state of mind, a better way of living. This is likely to take a lot of time and patience. And I know how hard it may sound but I want you to know you are more than capable of overcoming this challenge. I send my best wishes and positive vibes to you with the hope that it will protect you and carry you through this trying time of your life. Remember that you are not alone and that your emotions and opinions matter. If you are having a hard time, feel free to contact any professional if you feel the need to. I am also ready to read your messages if you don't know who to turn to. I can't promise you that I will solve all your problems but I can tell you that I will do my best in providing a safe place for you to release your sadness and worries.

Group 2

The Fool, 3 of swords, 4 of wands, back of the deck ace of wands

After a heartbreak or a separation of some kind, whether this is relating to family, romance or business, you will be starting anew as a new partnership is coming your way. You may have a hard time trusting this at first, as memories of the past are still fresh in your heart. But you will take the opportunity nontheless and choose to move forward with a new positive mindset. This partnership may inspire you to get out of your comfort zone and overcome certain fears. It might be a bit challenging but your optimism and ambition will be your best tools in this situation. As the 4 of wands often represents the home and committed relationships, this may speak about the renewal of vows or of a contract. You are given a second chance to prove your worth and work on a clean slate. You will be supported in this journey by a feminine figure. Spirit animals may also be present to protect you and provide you with guidance. Especially the wolf spirit. You may have to travel or make a significant change in what you bring to the table. This may particularly concern your creativity and your ideas. You may feel inspiredto use your passions and creative skills as a fuel to progress further on your path. You are encouraged to keep an open mind and find support and inspiration by your loved ones and/or cowerkers. Though this may be intimidating, you will be more and more satisfied with this blessing the Universe is sending your way. When it comes to romantic relationships, you may feel a renewal of your desire and attraction for your partner.

Group 3

4 of swords, 3 of cups, Hanged man, back of the deck 4 of wands

The blessing coming your way is healing. Especially through friendships and siblings. You will be granted a period of rest to be able to focus on your needs, spend quality time with your loved ones and recharge your batteries. You could be spending a lot of time at home. If you're in a romantic relationship, your connection may be going through a very calm phase. You are feeling comfortable in the presence of your partner and the pace has slowed down. Some of you may get engaged during this period of time. You may be celebrating the healing of a disease. Your focus will be on your home and your center, as well as the relationships that matter the most to you. Your loved ones will be fully supporting you during this period of your life. If you are feeling a bit confused or uncertain, they will help you gain perspective on what is troubling you. Your blessing is the slowing of time to enable you to build solid foundations and restore your balance. I asked for further information as I wasn't getting much from your cards. You got the Queen of wands. You will be glowing up and also empowered during this period of your life. Though it may feel like not much is happening, a lot of changes are slowly but surely taking place for you.

#pick a card #just-a-ghost #pac reading #spiritual pac #tarot reading

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momentomori24 · 8 months ago

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I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.

Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.

Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.

And to people like this:

''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?

Same thing goes for people like this:

Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?

And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.

This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.

To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.

To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #this post took me ages to finish and really grinds my gears #i would not survive on that hellscape with people like this holy shit #really hope this situation turns out for the best #i wrote this while i was frustrated and sleep deprived so apologies for unnoticed grammar i'll correct it later #i'll be keeping my eyes peeled for any updates on this situation this is actually getting scary

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lightlycareless · 3 months ago

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Hey hope you're doing great ❤ I wanted to ask, how do you think Naoya would react if his beloved wife is infertile? I think it would be pretty interesting considering he's a traditionalist and heir and all 🤔

Hello!

I am doing fine thank you 🥰!! I hope you're doing well too.

And omg this ask.... it was just what I needed, angst. Or at least that's what I wanted to take it as hahahahahahaaaaaa thank you so much for sending in this hehe. The perfect excuse to write down some thoughts I've been having for a while.

warnings: mentions of infertility, adultery, self doubt. Naoya is somewhat ooc I guess but he's your loving husband nontheless.

Happy reading!!!

Discovering you were infertile quickly becomes one of your worst nightmares—and not simply because of that, which is severe by itself, but rather all of the things that ensued; notions that your mind convinced you of … the insecurities it awakens.

The moment you and Naoya decide to finally try out for a baby, you completely dedicate all your efforts to it. It was only all you ever wanted, after all: to have a family with the man of your dreams.

Thus, believing your prayers to be answered in just a matter of time, you and Naoya began to make all preparations, from buying clothes to choosing which room to transform into a nursery… you were enthusiastic as enthusiastic could be! Your husband nothing but indulging to your desires.

But even with all your persistent attempts, those typical symptoms associated with pregnancy failed to present themselves. Weeks passed and you haven’t felt either nauseous or tired. No odd cravings, nor anything else…

A part of you didn’t want to admit it; feared that doing so out loud might make it true, but perhaps… perhaps you were one of the women that were fated to struggle when conceiving, regardless of how much you desired a baby; still hoping you’d be placed above such chances and have your dream conceded.

Yet… it didn’t. And with much fear in your heart, you’ve decided to go to the doctor for a checkup. A second opinion, the reassurance that everything was fine, you were just bound to struggle a bit before becoming a mother.

Maybe there was something else you were failing to consider, skipping over when together with Naoya…

Desperately hoping for literally anything else but the gut-wrenching revelation that soured your heart for the rest of your life.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but the reason why you haven’t been able to get pregnant is because you’re—”

You knew exactly what was coming and yet, you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t think yourself capable of—it just… it just never occurred to you that it would happen. That it would be true.

But that awful word felt like it was being imprinted on your forehead, with bright red ink for the whole world to scrutinize, when she said it. When she sentenced your fate and marriage in more ways than you could possibly imagine.

Infertile.

…

So that’s why you weren’t able to have a child. That’s why no matter how much you tried, how much desired it, you weren’t seeing results.

Oh, what a simple solution.

“But that—that doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do about it, right?” Naoya frets soon after, perhaps to give you hope, encourage you to seek solutions. Medicine has advanced so much in recent years, certainly there must be something to consider before closing this chapter!

Yet, to you… his words unwittingly igniting a new insecurity in you as you’re reminded that you weren’t the only one who wanted a family as well, with Naoya seemingly having much more to lose if unaccomplished.

There was nothing, ever, in his actions to lead you down this path, but you couldn’t help but worry about it, especially the circumstances you were surrounded by.

If you weren’t able to conceive, then… what was your purpose as his wife?

What kind of scrutiny awaited you once you returned to the Zen’in estate, once his family knew that you were unable to have children? They’d figure out in time, perhaps it wasn’t even necessary to tell them personally…

Not that it mattered, this would only highlight what they already thought of you:

A failure.

“A woman that can’t have children is no woman at all.”

“It’s the only thing we had hopes she’d be able to do well, and not even that was she capable of. What a disgrace”

“Oh, poor Naoya-sama… hopefully he’ll be able to deal with this issue before it’s too late.”

“Don’t listen to them, Y/N.” Your husband, all too aware of the inner workings of his family, was quick to defend you. Either by openly scolding them, punishing those he could, or removing you from those dire situations, away from the comments of people you really shouldn’t bother considering, and surround you with those that truly cared for you. “They don’t know what they’re saying.”

Clearly, for how could they even imply he was angry at you? Disappointed? Instead of worried given how dimmed you behaved nowadays, lacking the happiness that always accompanied you whenever doing your daily duties or talking with your staff and family!

Naoya worried, naturally. So much so that he decided to reassign all his missions and duties to someone else just so he could keep by your side, tend to you, let you know that you aren’t alone and that he understands what you’re going through—to the best of his ability.

Your husband hoped that his company would make you happy, it always did or so he supposed by the way you clung to him whenever around.

But not this time around. If anything, having him near proved worse than he anticipated, as if his presence was a constant reminder of whom you failed, and what you would have to sacrifice in order to fulfill your role.

“Y/N, my love… you have to eat.” Naoya murmurs, kneeling to your level as he gently holds onto your hands, hoping that this gesture would be enough for you to raise your eyes to him and, well… see him.

Acknowledge him. Like your husband, the man who swore to accompany you through thick and thin—instead of purposefully ignoring him, like he wasn’t even there.

Had he done something to bother you?

Or was there something else prickling at the back of your mind?

“I’m not hungry.”

“…I know.” He breathes, pressing his lips together and squeezing your hands. “But at least try to do it a bit. You can’t go on for hours without eating.”

You don’t respond, not even lifting your eyes to him.

“At least do it for me, please? I… I worry for you, my love.”

“…Why?” You eventually respond, giving him a look of unprecedented anger that takes him by surprise. Though he was still able to see that deep within, you weren’t mad, rather… sad.

“What do you mean why?” he repeats, hurt by the implications behind your reaction. “You’re—you’re my wife. Obviously, I care for you.”

“…perhaps it would be better if I wasn’t. Then someone else could do the job.”

“Y/N?” Naoya blinks, frightened by your words. “What are you—"

“I’m not hungry.”

Naoya leaves with the conclusion that perhaps it’s best to not touch the subject anymore. Perhaps you just… needed some time along to come to terms with this unwanted predicament, for his words seem to only make everything worse.

He won’t leave you unattended—never. Your husband would leave your care to your attentive staff, who had been nothing but amazing friends the moment they knew what happened at the doctor’s office.

“Please keep a close eye on her. And tell me if anything happens, please.” Naoya silently confides to Mariya before heading over to you, seconds away from his departure.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Is what Naoya always says when deployed to those tedious, seemingly senseless missions he often questions why he even bothers. His family has enough money to support you and himself, so why does he have to keep on?

…

In moments like these you would’ve reassured him that it was all for his career; for the sake of proving himself to the clan and HQ that he’s a worthy sorcerer to guide the next generation—though you’d agree that him being away was just as dreadful as it sounded.

But not this time around. No, instead, you just keep quiet, demure as Naoya steps closer to press a kiss on your forehead, a good luck charm that was normally bestowed to him by you, yet given the circumstances, you needed it far more than him.

“Take care, I’ll bring your favorite, ok?”

“Ok.”

Naoya presses his lips together before entering the car, disappearing into the horizon.

Your husband considered himself to be very focused when it came to his work, although he won’t deny that ever since he got married, he’s unable to keep you out of his mind—today was to be no exception, though not how he would’ve liked.

Ever since he left the estate, there has been a dreadful sensation gnawing at the back of his mind, the presumption that something bad was to happen, and yet, he was unsure whether it related to his missions, or worse, the estate—you.

Naoya anxiously checked his phone whenever he could, believing that whatever bad news he was to endure would come through there.

And he was right, for it rang during the times Naoya specifically asked to not be bothered unless it were an emergency, quickly taking it out of his pocket and reading the caller ID across the screen; heart sinking when realizing it was none other than the estate, or more like the line assigned for you.

“What is it? Is it Y/N? Is she ok?!” Naoya breathes against the speaker, not even muttering a hello.

“No, Naoya—she isn’t. I don’t even know how to begin to explain but she—she started packing her things.” It’s Mariya in the other side, with an unmistakable tone of fright that spirals Naoya even more.

“What?” Naoya breathes, heart thundering against his ears. “What do you mean she’s packing her things?!”

“I don’t know, but that’s what she’s doing! I tried to talk her out of it, or at least get her to tell me where she’s planning to go but she’s not saying anything!”

A million thoughts cross Naoya’s mind at that moment, but one perseveres above the rest:

Is she leaving me?

The mere notion of a separation is enough to make him mad.

“Stop her!” Naoya demands. “I don’t care how you do it but stop her!”

“I’ll try stalling her, but she’s—she’s very determined to leave, Naoya. You have to come back!”

And that’s exactly what Naoya does, careless with what happens on the mission, he drops everything on the spot and rushes his way back to you. He was lucky that his latest mission didn’t place him too far from the estate, so when he finally returned home you were still around.

Though it seemed that if he had taken just a few minutes later, you wouldn’t be there anymore, as you’d managed to escape your staff’s persistent attempts of stalling you, a small suitcase by your side, as you headed to the exit with them just right behind you.

“He—Hey, honey, what—what are you doing?” Naoya asks with a nervous chuckle, gesturing to the staff to leave the two alone, which they obliged soon after, elated that he was finally there—but worried he couldn’t be of much help.

“I’m leaving.”

“And where—where are you going, my love?” He goes on, his heart squeezing in pain as his worst fears seemed to materialize before him. Yet, Naoya still hopes to be wrong. “Did… did your family need help with something? If so, maybe I could drive—"

“…No.” you say, not even looking back to him. But he was still able to hear the pain in your voice. “I don’t—I don’t need anything, because I’m never coming back.”

“What?” Naoya freezes, hands trembling as his mind tries to understand what you just uttered. “Y/N— you can’t—”

“I… I no longer have a place here.” You say. “After this I… I realized I was never meant to be with you”

“That’s not true.” Naoya swiftly interjects. “None of the things you’re saying are true! I cannot envision anyone else to be my wife, less to share my life with! Where did you even get this idea?!”

“What do you mean where?” You frown, looking back at him. “Have you not been aware of what’s going on around?!”

“Y/N, I—I get that you’re upset because of what happened. I can only imagine, really, the pain you’re going through. You have no idea how much I wanted to have a family with you too but— but if it’s not meant to be then… then I guess we just have to live with that!”

“That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it?” you hiss. “It’s just so easy for you to simply move on, because all you have to do is look for someone else to do the job!”

“And who told you I wanted to do that?! I never implied, not even once, that I was interested in having another woman just for the sake of having a family! I don’t want to! If it’s not with you, then I don’t want anything!”

“Then I guess you didn’t want it as much as I did.” You murmur, Naoya freezes.

“What’s… that supposed to mean?”

“…Nothing. I’m leaving.” You say, attempting to walk away. But before you were able to do as much as take the first step, Naoya grabs your hand, keeping you in place. “Naoya—”

“No, I can’t let you go. I won’t let you.”

“Let—let me go!” You tug at his arm. “You wouldn’t understand anyways!”

“Then help me understand.” Naoya pleads. “Please—please tell me; I’ll do anything you want, whatever you want, it’s done—but please don’t… don’t leave me.”

This is why you wanted to leave before he came back, because you knew that at the sound of his trembling voice, and the teary-eyed look in his face, you’d succumb.

You’d crumble, wanting nothing more than to stay with him.

Because you wouldn’t take it. You couldn’t take the notion of hurting him even more than you already seemingly done.

… It is also why you took this abrupt decision. Why you needed to leave.

“… I just—I just want to go home.”

“But… you —you are home.” Naoya says, a sad chuckle at the overwhelming pain of you not recognizing his company as home. “He—here, with me.”

“I can’t be here anymore.” You whisper, looking back at him. “I don’t think I—I can take this anymore.”

“Why?” Naoya laments, gently cupping your face and wiping your tears away. “What happened? Did something happen while I was gone?”

Always. The Zen’in could never keep to themselves.

“…I have failed you.” You eventually sob, Naoya taking you into his arms and chest as you let out the sorrows you’ve been dragging along. “As your wife I— I was supposed to give you children, a heir, but I—I couldn’t and that is going to—it’s going to— ruin your life.”

“Ruin my life?” Naoya asks, perplexed. It all becomes clear now, who was responsible of this misunderstanding…

Just what kind of stupidities did his family plague you with?

“If I—I can’t have kids then you—you couldn’t be heir anymore.” You explain. “And I love you too much to do that to you.”

“I wouldn’t be heir—”

Were they truly that desperate that they resorted to doing this?

Intimidating you?

Naoya doesn’t even bother to ask who started this train of thought, knowing all too well where to look.

It probably began with his uncle, the man that never knew how to keep quiet, always commenting in other’s marriage because his was miserable. As if that gave him permission to do so. Always quick to bark first.

From there, the elders. His father too, probably. They probably thought the same as Ogi but kept quiet about it because they had other matters to tend too—or perhaps too drunk to care. But do not be fooled, they were the ones that once suggested him getting a lover, a concubine of sorts, to “secure” the bloodline long ago; way before this issue began. Naoya promptly dismissed them, calling their idea idiotic: but what gave him security that they wouldn’t insist again?

He could see how this happened too, scolded himself for not even considering it before!

Since Naoya was now out of the estate, it gave them the freedom to target the one they considered most vulnerable, and without holding back: you.

If done right, then you would essentially be intimidated into disappearing from their life, giving way for their plans to continue. Or so they hoped.

…

You were too good for this family, how could he claim to deserve you, when he’s allowed so much pain to befall you?

“If Naoya can’t bring himself to beget a child for his wife, then he might as well pass on the title to someone else.”

None of those words were true, not one bit. But how could he dismiss them if he’s never taken the time to say what he thought of this situation?

Of what he thought of you, and what it means to this marriage?

It was time that he did what he should’ve the moment you stepped out of the doctor’s office.

“I wanted a family with you, I won’t say that I didn’t; that I never found something enthralling about hearing the footsteps of our children running from one side of the estate to the other. To have kids that looked just like you, or maybe like me; though secretly hoped they looked more like you. Ever since I saw you interact with my cousins, that’s all I thought about. You being the mother of my children.” Naoya murmurs, holding you tightly against him. “But… I’ve also accepted that some things are simply not meant to be. And if we are not meant to have a family, as long as I have you by my side, I am fine with it.

As long as we remain together, I will know what happiness is.”

“I—I don’t—” your lips tremble, overwhelmed by Naoya’s, regretful for the way you’ve behaved these past few days. “Naoya, I’m—"

“Whatever they said, it’s a lie. Nothing but things to get under your skin—hurt me.” He insists. “You know how my family is, how stupid they can be—"

“But they—they said things that could be true.” You fret. “If I’m unable to give you a child, then you—you might not be heir anymore—”

“Y/N.” Naoya sternly interjects, cutting through your spiraling mind as he cups your face, forcing you to look at him. “To be an heir is my birthright. It was decided way before you stumbled into my life. So, what happens after shouldn’t worry you.”

“But the Zen’in—”

“Like to antagonize people. Make up things to worry your pretty little mind just for the laughs of it.”

“And what if it is true? What if I do make you lose your title? I know how much you wanted to be leader! If that happens, I—I couldn’t—I couldn’t live with myself!”

“It won’t happen. I promise. I swear.” Naoya insists, kissing your tears away. “But please, please don’t ever think of yourself as expendable or replaceable, because you are not. Not to me.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” You sob again, pressing your face against his chest. “I’m sorry for disappointing you—I’m sorry for not being able to give you children…!”

“You’ve never disappointed me, never.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “If anything, I’m sorry for disappointing you. I failed to be the husband you needed in these difficult moments. I… let my fear get the best of me, giving you the impression you were less than enough.”

“Are you… are you really ok with not having a family?” you dare to wonder, one last reassurance.

“It just means I’ll have more of you to myself.” He attempts to jest, successfully making you laugh, but not without a sniffle to follow. “…But we could always… adopt if you want.”

“I… I guess I have to think about it.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now.” Naoya says. “Or ever. Just know that whatever you decide, I’ll agree with.”

“…I think I still need some space from here.” You murmur. “And see my family too.”

“You haven’t told your father, have you?” you shake your head, Naoya sighs. “Do you want me to be with you?”

“You already made your most to be here, I don’t want to distract you any further”

“This is a family emergency; I have to be there. What’s the use of being your husband if I won’t act like one?” He insists. “But if you don’t want me there, I won’t insist.”

“I want you to be there.” You confess. “Please”

“Of course, always.” Naoya promises, leaning to softly kiss your lips. “…Does this mean we’re still… together?”

You nod, another tear sliding down your cheek as you hug him tighter. “I can’t imagine my life with anyone else but you either. …I’m sorry.”

“Don’t think about anything anymore; just focus on being with your family. It’s probably the best place for you to be right now.”

“Can you stay over there too? At least until I feel better?” you ask. “I mean, if it doesn’t affect your work.”

“I’ll make all the preparations, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Do you also need me to send your staff?”

“I wouldn’t mind the company.” You say with a smile, making Naoya’s heart flutter.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He says, pinching your cheek. “I’ll see if I can make time for a holiday too; we could fly somewhere nice, cold to fight this horrible summer heat.”

“I want to take it easy for now.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He nods, kissing your lips once more. “I’ll always be here when you need me. Don’t ever forget that.”

“… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Little details to note: Naoya has always struck me as the type of guy that never really wanted a family, he just had no interest! That changes a bit when you come along, but the bottom line is that he isn't actively seeking it. Sure, he likes to play with the idea of breeding you, but you know, he had other priorities. (He loves your kids tho when you eventually have them, do not get me wrong)

And once again, the Zen'in estate is not a good place for you lol. Thankfully, I like to think that changes when Naoya eventually becomes leader :) but most of the time you're living somewhere else—and honestly, he prefers it that way too. More... privacy ☺️

I just really wanted to write an argument between the two were both have their biggest insecurities exposed :) kind of extremist in Y/N's part but can't say I didn't enjoy the angst hehe I hope you enjoyed it too!!

Take care and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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im-poe-dameron · 2 months ago

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restless & reckless love

a/n: this is a small drabble i threw together because i wanted to participate in the @sithobiwanevent! i saw the prompt list and knew that a few of them had my attention immediately. they aren't going to be intensely long fics, but nontheless i had quite a bit of fun getting to delve into a version of obi-wan i hope to write more about soon. a massive thank you to @karasong who was my writing buddy for these fics!

sith!obi-wan events: disheveled obi-wan

summary: the death of obi-wan kenobi occurred on mustafar near ten years ago. giving birth to the sith you watched train with a reckless passion that should have terrified you.

word count: 2k

pairing: sith!obi-wan kenobi x sith!reader

warnings: not explicit, disheveled and slightly feral obi-wan, grief, angst, anakin's death, he suffers from ptsd, choking, passionate kissing.

Energy crackled in the air like sparks from a wildfire that held no intention of being tamed. You felt him before you entered the clearing. The night air lay upon your cloaked figure with a thickness that left you gasping for air. Humidity wasn't your fondest type of weather, yet the planet seemed to thrive off the warm air—even as it choked you mercilessly.

The familiar glow of red illuminated the darkened space; his body lithe and quick with each practiced step. A dance you'd grown fond of watching each night before you were confined to your separate bunks. Whether he knew you stood in the shadows—eyes fixed on the sweat that glistened off his body—or remained oblivious to your ogling, made no difference.

He still clung to you without knowing.

Buried himself in your chest with each swipe of his lightsaber; teeth bared as a nonexistent fight played out in his mind. A battle he'd yet to explain to you.

The grief in his eyes wasn't in part to the yellow iris that flashed with a depth you'd never before witnessed in another of your kind. This was horrific pain. A break that split him down the center, crushing the Jedi that once existed in the realms of his mind.

Before he took on the name of Darth, the role befit for a king, he was one of the greats. Legends were told of his ferocity, of his strength. You'd heard a few yourself on nights when the alcohol ran a bit too strong and his lips grew lax; the lazy grin he wore feeding your borderline obsession with each aspect of his beauty.

You knew Obi-Wan Kenobi through words only.

The man who stood alone, battling demons he'd yet to explain to you, was not him.

A snarl ripped from his throat, blade slicing the ground as he swung it with a spin—his black robes gliding along the floor and kicking up dust. His hair was a mess atop his head. Stuck to his forehead as he fought the villain with no name. An antagonist of his past that rose up in the back of his mind and made him reckless.

Yet you knew the name with a clarity that shocked you. After months spent on the ground, you heard his screams in the middle of the night. The nightmares that only fueled his anger.

Anakin.

He begged for forgiveness for the death of a man you assumed to be his brother. A man who no matter how hard you searched...never seemed to exist at all. He remained a part of the past. Lost in the darkness of a Sith who already gave too much. Who had nothing left for you to take. He remained shattered beyond repair—a broken man who wasn't worth saving.

You supposed that's where he was mistaken.

Saving him was never part of your agenda. You didn't wish to put his pieces back together. Not when they forged the power that ran through his veins; the strength you felt singe the air around you in strength you could only dream of holding. You were kindred souls lost to a path of darkness that beckoned you forward with awaiting arms.

Two unkind souls who were twisted up and bent past the point of salvaging.

Two hearts that beat an unsteady rhythm. Yet together formed something whole.

A raw look of unhinged greed crossed his face, flashing in his eyes as he finally met your unwavering gaze. Something flickered in the air between you. A whip finally brought down to crack against the solid ground below. You felt it rupture in your chest; smothering any doubts that lingered below the surface of who you belonged to.

Who you would be sharing your night with.

"Hiding isn't what I expected of you," he spoke, voice hoarse and low.

You barely caught it through the murky air—your ears strained. When the words settled in your chest, you felt the flip of your heart beneath the layers of fabric. There was no need for him to raise his voice when you stood mere feet away. A soft caress only gifted to you in times he felt the darkness begin to wane on his soul; the spark of light resurfacing after so long.

Drowning it never helped when it once poured out of his soul. He could submerge it day in and day out, but the fact still remained that he would have to choose the darkness. He'd have to battle to keep it in his heart the longer time went on.

Most Jedi gave in with ease. You know you did. But you supposed that's what made him so different.

Obi-Wan Kenobi still remained, screaming for a way out, as the Sith that stood in his place locked him away.

"You looked as if you wanted to be alone."

He ran a hand through his hair, chest heaving as he struggled to maintain the composure that usually came so naturally. By far he remained the most collected Sith you would ever see. How he handled himself—understanding what his limits were—became a source of knowledge for you to feed off of.

Somehow he was able to use the teaching of the Jedi and form his new belief around it. You wondered if you'd ever get to witness him like this. Disheveled, creeping along the edge of unhinging his sanity entirely. His face remained a mask of control. However, his eyes told a different story entirely.

They flashed with a fury you felt bleed into the air—seeping into your skin and agitating the anger you fought to keep at bay. Whether he remained aware of his affect on your mind continued to be a mystery. The walls of his fortress—his thoughts and emotions—was built so tall you held no hope in climbing over. Which left you with only one singular option.

Asking him to tell you.

"I rarely wish to be alone when it comes to you darling."

The name settled in your heart with a whisper of power. A promise yet to be fulfilled, but one you knew would come with time. The both of you were aware of where this kinship would lead. Where the path lay carved in stone ahead of you.

As it was written in the Force.

So it would be done.

"Why don't you speak about him?" you asked, cautiously entering the area—wary of how he tensed. Already on the edge of snapping.

He glared at you, eyes flashing dangerously with a look you'd seen countless times before. Usually your position was replaced with an enemy about to meet their death by the fierce swing of his lightsaber. You prepared yourself for the blow, waiting with baited breath as he struggled to hold back the sneer that almost crossed his face.

Instead, he chose to pacify himself with a brushed off lie. "I don't know who you are referring to."

This you could accept. This was the man you'd grown accustomed to over the years. The person who hid his past for the sake of his own sanity; to keep from flying off the cliff and into an unhinged feral nothingness most Sith resided in. Their greed to fill the emptiness in their souls more often than not led to their demise.

He was far too controlled for that.

Far too proud.

"You scream for someone named Anakin," you admitted, watching his body shudder as the forbidden truth was finally spoken aloud. "You can tell me. I won't speak of him again-"

The quick flick of his hand rising threw you off guard. But the sharp tug at the Force clamping down around your throat forced you to gasp for air that wasn't there. He dragged you forward with a silent malice that burrowed into your bones.

Cold leather pressed tight along your throat, his face mere inches from your own. You struggled to tamp down your fear—the streak of anxiety that spilled out in the Force around you. At least then you could stand on your own two feet and face him head on. The smile that split across his lips was proof enough that your attempt failed drastically; his touch loosening as your eyes flicked down to his mouth.

"You won't speak of him now," he spit, leaning close enough for you to smell the heady scent of his sweat.

Leather ran along your bottom lip, the acrid taste of burnt soil met your tongue. Rather than flinch, you found yourself leaning into his touch. The ache of more twisting your stomach in knots that would never be undone. This was the binding fate that cost the both of you your past lives.

Finding him on Mustafar wasn't by happenstance. You knew that now.

"My darling," he murmured, eyes dropping to see the way his thumb pressed against your lip, pulling at it slowly. "So interested in what you cannot have."

A soft sound fell from your throat, deepening his smile. You didn't want to admit that he was indeed right. The relationship with him had fanned the flames of something unreachable. A title you wanted him to bestow upon you with the same fiery need that burned a hole through your heart.

"I want..." you sighed, eyes dazed and body trembling in his grasp.

"I know what you want." His hand slid up to your cheek, drawing you close enough to smell the soft undercurrent of molten lava that seemed to stick with him. A permanent reminder of where Obi-Wan Kenobi died and the Darth was reborn. "You may have it. If you wish."

Swallowing thickly, you clutched at his robes. "I wish."

What little breath you had trapped in your lungs was punched from your chest when his lips met yours. The once unforgiving heat of the fire licked at your body with a warmth that settled deep in your heart. His lips were soft. Yet unforgiving in nature. He kissed you as a way to consume. Never a gift of passion, but a greedy inkling he finally grasped to quiet that curious part of his mind.

Delving your hands into the back of his robes, you flung yourself into his arms—tongue slipping past his parted mouth to taste him directly. To lick into his awaiting mouth with a soft moan that made his inside quake. He clutched you close—hands gripping your hips through the layers—a soft groan of pleasure meeting your sighed whimpers.

"Tell me," he rasped, hand clutching your chin to draw you back. "The truth."

Heat flushed against your chest, dripping down to the tips of your fingers. You felt him through the Force. Once overbearing—near terrifying—now became a welcome weight against your body. A reminder that though you knew his past, you'd never know the full extent of his powers. Those were trapped with the last embers of who he used to be; a man you'd never meet.

"I am yours my lord," you whispered.

A vow unspoken, now solidified for all eternity.

You would never be able to take it back; he knew this.

Rarely do Sith bind themselves to another. Master and Apprentice remain the only two. But there you stood—willing the tie yourself to him until your dying breath. The bright yellow dimmed from his iris, a soft cerulean blue flickering to life as the part of him that loved—that lost—rose to the surface. The man who would inevitably one day return.

His lips were a gentle press to your jaw. You allowed your head to fall back, a sigh of bliss echoing in the air as he worked his way back to your mouth. His hands clutching at what he always yearned for.

What he believed he was owed after giving so much.

"As am I."

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi #sith!obi wan #obi-wan kenobi #sith!obi-wan kenobi event 2024 #my writing

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deceptive-daydreams · 7 months ago

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TW: mentions of bad mental health

im imagining eddie being absolutley taken back when he finds out how people have previously treated you resulting in hesitation when being vulnerable with him.

and he's been through some shit, he's not exactly one to be voluntarily vulnerable either but with the tables turned it's like a moment of oh. like you're hiding from him, muddling your own emotions as a means to keep the peace.

he realizes that coming in strong, asking "what's wrong?" almost too oboxiously like he's previously done, only chases you further into your mind, it only insinuates that there are consquences if you were to answer so rather than being met with honesty, it's always "nothing" followed by forced smiles and sucked back tears that he's regrettably brushed off in those moments, trying to keep you comfortable. but while his intention to ease your chaotic mind by simply moving on had no ill intent, he soon recognizes the harm its caused and the pattern he's assisted in creating.

realizes he takes it far too personal when you shut down on those particularily bad days, thinks it's cause of him, only to contribute to the self destruction taking place in your mind when he continuously begs the questions "what's wrong?" "what do you want me to do?" "what can I do?" "come on, tell me what's wrong". he never understood that he was never the issue but he quickly made himself into one by nearly berating and prodding you with his questions. and then one day he sees it. sees the way your eyes go dull when he asks.

sees the front you put on, "everything's okay" while your lip wobbles. he doesn't take it personal this time, there's nothing distracting him from the obvious signs, the symptoms of broken hearted individual struggling to keep up despite the aches and pains that linger within. its a heartbreak he's so familiar with yet seems to be so blind to in others, thinking he's the only one to experience it, not selfishly but hopefully. so he straightens up and silently tells himself to quit all of his bitching because this is bigger than him, it's not because of him. you need him and he's been too insecure to think that maybe words aren't required, not by you anyway. there is no quick fix, no remedy to just stop the pain like popping an ibprofen or slapping on a bandaid, it just is. raw pain and vulnerability that should be allowed to be felt, not cured.

so this time, he recognizes the wall you put up, just like every other time though it was previously ignored. before he can even say anything, he knows you're anticipating his bombarding questions that have no answer. sees the way you tense up, the slight panic in the way your fingers tremble at the prospect of being figured out. except this time he speaks softly, a shake in his voice because he's terrifed to scare you off once again. says "i love you" then gently wraps you up in his arms, provides a barrier between you and the world you're at war with.

holds you on the kitchen floor, face pressed to his chest with a mixture of tears and snot.

runs his fingers down your spine delicately.

whispers "it's okay" when he knows it is in fact not, only hoping you're able to decipher that he means it's okay that you're not okay, it's okay that it's 1AM and while the world is asleep you're both tangled up on top of crumbs and possible neglected coffee stains

apologizes.

because for all those times you've coaxed him through an unwarranted episode, he's been neglecting you at your worst. not on purpose but it's neglect nontheless. and he knows all about it.

sings under his breath when the sobs have stopped wreaking havoc on your body. quiet hums of a familiar song, you are my sunshine.

tucks you into bed, makes you a late night snack cause he knows your appetite fails you in times like these, kisses your forehead and threads his fingers through your hair.

he's not perfect nor has he ever desired being held to such a high standard. but for you he wants to try.

#im not projecting :')#no way #is this therapy?#crying in the club y'all #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you

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xhanelia · 9 months ago

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hello!! I noticed you liked my Sova series and wanted to drop by, to send a small request :>

Can I get an omen, teaching y/n how to knit :D possibly make omen cold but has a soft spot for them :))

+ your writing is beautiful 🥹🥹

THANK UUU X

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT OMEN!! Also he is my main and i have the card that he knits infront of a fireplace so imma go with that! So sorry for the delay btw... i have been feeling a bit down lately bcs i had a fight with one of my classmates but im back i promise!

Also, i am writing your request too, sova lover anon. Hope you are not mad at me 🥹

<<<Reader is gn and an agent from the protocole.>>>

Omen teaching to reader how to knit

Peeking through the door of the empty living room only to see the shadowy figure sitting infront of the burning fireplace and knitting with a pink yarn. If it wasnt your eyes that were too sleepy to see, it would be obvious that he was knitting an octopus with that yarn.

It was 2 am in the morning (def not me rn) and your mind was not letting you drift to sleep. You felt sick turning from one side to another. Deciding to go and get a water, walking down on the corridor to reach the kitchen but your eyes stuck to the ghost that was lighten by the light of the fire.

He noticed you nontheless. That 'face' turned to you and gave you chills down your spine. You know that he wouldnt hurt you in any ways but the chills was still there.

He didnt need any sleep and he quite enjoys his quiet moments at nights. If it was any other, he would just turn to knitting but he definately has a soft spot for you. In terms of interrupting his 'quiet moments' the only one he wouldnt mind was you.

"What are you doing this late?" The raspy and deep voice of his spoke with a lighter tone just for you. He didnt wanted to scare you off. Or it was just an instict. He doesnt even know at this point.

"Uhh... i couldnt sleep." You said while rubbing your eyes. It was weird of him to spoke first. If he spoke first, then he wants to speak right? You hope you were not mistaken and he wasnt doing this just because he feels the need to ask if you are okay.

"What are you knitting?" You asked while getting a bit closer to take a better look at it. "An octopus. I hope you like them."

Huh? I hope you like them? DO YOU? WHY WOULD HE ASK THAT?

"I do, but why?" You asked again. Feeling like you ask too many questions now.

"Then i will give this one to you when its finished. Maybe she will help you sleep well." He said while continuing with the yarn. When was Omen this warm to anybody? Let alone care?

"You really do not have to give it to me, you know." You tried to reject his offer but he stopped what he was doing and just stared into your soul so you have to accept that. You raised your hands to the air and laughed at your lose.

"I wish i could knit you something back but it feels like some kind of magic that i will never understand." You say while slowly sitting next to him. By his body language, he doesnt seem to mind.

"I can teach you." He says. Straight to the point as always. You look at him only to meet the blue hues that was looking at you. "Really? I would love to." This time you accept his offer with a smile. He took out his spare knitting needles and made a start with another yarn for you.

"Insert the right needle like this, wrap the yarn around and pull. Then put this stitch to the left one and repeat." He said then handled the needles to you. Showing you what to do one more time with the unfinished octopus.

It wasnt that hard as you thought it would be. He helped you with certain points and you two knit in peace. It felt quite nice to just knit near by a fire with some quietness. You understood why Omen liked it.

You didnt even notice you fell asleep. You woke up on your bed. Couldnt remember how you get here so it must be Omen who carried you to here. You lift yourself up in the bed, only to notice the pink octopus near you that was tucked in your bed like a kid. The care of Omen made you laugh. This was too cute to be him and yet it was.

After that night, his favorite time of the day is to knit with you. He continued to teach you and was proud of your progress. After you learn pretty much everything, there was planty of time for you two to knit things for eachother. Lets say, a sign of affection. He liked it and hoped that you do too.

#valorant #headcanon #valorant x reader #omen valorant #omen #omen x reader #valorant omen

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babybatss-blog · 3 months ago

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OH MY GOODNESS I LOVED UR SAM FICS, PLEASE WRITE ONE ABOUT LIKE HIM X READER IN THE FALL SHARING FLANNELS AND SWEATSHIRTS

BEGIN AGAIN

stardew!sam x reader, 1400 words

a/n: ahhhh omg you’re so sweet! Although it isn’t that important to the story, I based this fic on “begin again” by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy!

cw: predeveloped relationship between Sam and reader, confession of love. Mention of adult sexy time 😉 but nothing explicit. Slight angst into sickly sweet fluff. Reader is insecure, with mentions of past relationship and friendship struggles.

You tried to deny it, you really did. But walking hand in hand through town on a cold fall day the realisation hits you that you are inexplicably, irreversably in love with Sam. You’ve been together for a few months now, but honestly it was only really a casual relationship built on messy hookups and an innate need for physical affection. And even if Sam thought it was anything different you never intended to get very far with it after the last few years of your life. You escaped to Stardew valley to forget men, with their stupid player attitudes and outlook on relationships. Truthfully, you were perfectly happy with just becoming some single weirdo for the rest of your life. But this golden retreiver of a man just makes you so happy, blushing like a school girl and heart racing faster than ever before.

The mere thought of how down bad you are for him causes a shiver down your spine, and not just some small one but one that makes you physically shake. “Cold?” He asks, looking down to you with his bushy eyebrows furrowed. Without another word he takes his flannel off and wraps it around your shoulders, patting them with his big hands and grinning like a buffoon before holding your hand once more.

Honestly you didn’t even need it, but the way he thinks he’s some sort of knight in shining armor always stops you from protesting. You arrive at the town’s playground, a shabby swingset attached to a slide that’s cracked and rusted at the joints. It sure isn’t some masterpiece, but it does the job of entertaining the town’s children on the weekends. And Sam apparently, who lets go of your hand and leaps onto the swing. The scoots back in order to get enough momentum as possible and flies into the air, his blonde mop of hair flying off with him.

“Woo!! Join me?” You just chuckle, but join him nontheless, swinging much softer than he is but with the same pleased expression. The two of you swing in silence for a bit, with him enjoying the moment and you dreading it. How could you have let yourself go back to your old ways? It may seem great now, but in your head you already can see him confessing to cheating or breaking up with you because he’s bored. “So, you know the saying when pigs fly?” he asks. “Do you think we could actually make them fly? Like genetically modify wings on them and teach them like baby birds?” To the normal individual this seems like an idiotic question, but you’re used to his antics so you don’t even blink and respond casually with a “I hope not. Then I’d have to deal with trying to fish mine out of the sky every night when they need to go to the barn.” To this Sam laughs, throwing his head back as if you just said the funniest thing ever.

You don’t really think your very funny, and you never did. In school you were always the quiet kid, not because you are quiet but because you didn’t have many friends. Therefore, you just built yourself up to other things. You may not be funny, but your reasonably pretty. And smart, you did okay in school.

But Sam just makes you feel like the funniest person to ever exist, laughing at your words even when you don’t attempt to be funny. It makes you feel… nice.

Stuck in your thoughts though you unfortunately fail to conceal yourself once more, Sam realising the way you just completely ignore his following statements with a glossy look behind your eyes. “Babe, you alright?” He enquires, ceasing his swinging immediately to return to your level. You look up at him and smile softly, sighing. He had to realise sooner or later, and you couldn’t hide it from him anyways.

“Sam?” You ask, turning in the swing so the chains intertwine and you face him. He mirrors your movements, scooting so your knees are now touching. The warmth makes you uncomfortable in this moment, but you would never pull away from him. “If I say something weird… would you judge me?” Once again his eyebrows crease at your words, fearlessly shaking his head. “Of course not! Why?” That pit in your stomach grows until you feel sick, the words failing you as you look down at his jeans, which is all you can manage at this moment. “Your not breaking up with me are you?” The way his voice cracks almost brings a tear to your eye, internally cursing yourself for paining him so much. How could you do this to such a sweet, innocent man?

“No no no I just…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No Sam but I need to-“

“If you have an issue just say it I can handle it”

“I know you can its just hard cause-“

“Is this because I ate your pasta the other day? Cause I thought you wouldn’t mind and I’m happy to-“

“Sam I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of your mouth like daggers, despite the sweetness they’re usually associated with. Every fibre of your being is fighting with one another, some parts happy the secret is out and others despising the pit you’ve fallen into. Yet you continue. “I think I’ve felt this way for a little bit, but I tried to hide it. I hate it, but I can’t anymore. You just make me so happy Sam, and I don’t know whats wrong with me. You drive me mad. I wake up thinking about you, and I fall asleep with the same thoughts. I imagine you moving in with me, marrying me and raising my kids. I feel insane Sam, but I can’t help it anymore. You don’t have to feel the same way, and don’t feel obligated to say anything. But I love you. I really do.”

A silence lingers in the cold air, flowing around like the brown and yellow leaves that fall onto the floor limply. You now get the courage to study his face, and every freckle and imprefection seems like it always has. If this is how the two of you are going to end, you don’t mind. You’ll still have every detail of his body engrained in your mind, along with how his face looks in this very moment. It looks as if he’s brain is about to explode, simultaneously going through every option and pathway that lead to this moment.

His deep blue eyes look up and connect with yours, piercing into your soul as if he’s reading you like a book. Finally he breaks the silence, a sympathetic smile adorning his cheeks. “I love you too.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, and just as it fully sinks in he envelops you in a hug. You begin to beam, heart beating like never before. Did he really just say that? The two of you simultaneously laugh, your hands palming his back and melting into his warmth. “Really?” “Duh! How could you think I didn’t? I literally spent my whole pay check the other day buying you flowers! And you know I hate flowers! And what about the time I wrote a six page card for your birthday, detailing everything about your face? I hate writing!” Despite the tears that threatened to leak out of your eyes previously you now cannot stop laughing, in disbelief of his words.

Sam tucks his head down into the crook of your neck, kissing it over and over again through smooshed words of “I love you” that vibrate on your skin, any prior discomfort flooding away under his touch. You smell like him, feel like him and breath like him, hands digging into his jumper out of pure extacy. Sam lifts you up by the thighs to put you on his lap, arms safely keeping you still ontop of him, and still kissing your neck and collarbone.

“I love you Sam.” “I love you too.” Despite the cold, grey of the sky and the muddy puddles below you everything feels perfect, in a bountiful fall you could never forget.

#sam x reader sdv #sdv sam x reader #sdv sam #stardew valley sam #sam sdv #fanfic #sam sdv x reader #sam stardew valley #sam sdv fluff #babybatss blog #im really proud of this #stardew x reader #stardew valley #stardew farmer #sdv #taylor swift #taylornation

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