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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Text

Masterlist 2.0

Klaus, cut the bullshit (tua) (closed)

Sandman (closed)

House of the dragon (closed)

Stranger things (closed)

Marvel:

Werewolf by night (closed)

Druig (eternals) 1 2 3

Disastrous life of saiki k

Saiki kusuo 1 2 3 4 5

Is this stalking? Potentially/hypothetically from a certain standpoint, yes. Yet it is. (Requested)

The legend of vox machina (closed)

Percival de rolo 1 2 3 4

Vox machina 1 2 3 4 5

Deadweight

Deadweight pt 2

Deadweight pt3

Deadweight pt4

Deadweight pt5

Deadweight pt6

Deadweight pt7

Deadweight pt 8

Comfort after disaster

How vox machina dealt with reader coming back from the dead (revival) (requested)

Prompt 29: actions that make them happy (requested)

Vax’ildan

Vax’s gn s/o takes a bit for him and Pike heals them (requested) (tw; blood, gore, Achilles heel slashing, throat slitting, a whole ass gash taking up reader’s torso.)

Jjba

Anasui

Weather report

Castlevania (closed)

Alucard tepes 1 2

Dracula 1 2 3

Trevor Belmont 1 2

Wednesday (closed.)

Wednesday Addams 1

Like a date date? (Requested)

Make a move (requested)

Part 2 (requested)

Part 3 (requested)

Sucker for the baked goods (requested)

Black dahlia lovers (requested)

Part 2 (requested)

Black cat and golden retriever (requested)

Truths and lies (requested) angst/happy ending. Tw: blood, hurt, gashes.

The day Wednesday Addams understood what sound a shattered heart makes. (Requested) angst/ one sided love

Part 2; it takes two to mend a shattered heart (Requested)

Change of heart (requested)

Wednesday missing reader (not click bait) (requested)

Someone’s (Enid) is a little butt hurt (requested)

Alive (requested)

Companion of darkness (platonic Wednesday imagine request)

A nightshade always protects (requested)

Precognitions aren’t to be taken seriously when processed without the necessary context aka Wednesday learns how to cry (requested)

Mad dog of Nevermore (requested)

1068 days isn’t nearly a long enough time to keep me from you. (Requested)

Dragon of Nevermore (requested)

Rich reader spoils enid and Wednesday (requested)

The king of curses (requested)

Chaos witch (requested)

Chaos witch pt 2 (requested)

Chaos witch part 3 (requested)

Enid Sinclair 1

Liking you romantically (requested)

Sucker for the baked goods (requested)

Tomorrow’s another day (requested)

Because we work (requested)

Rich reader spoils enid and Wednesday (requested)

Xavier Thorpe

Hypothetically

Sucker for the baked goods (requested)

Finger friends (requested)

Xavier and Ajax’s no good, very bad day (requested)

Ear piercings are a bitch to heal. (Requested)

Xavier and reader’s children go to Nevermore (Requested)

Our rivalry became more because of a misdemeanour. (Requested)

Sketch your way into my heart (Requested)

Nasty bitch goblin mother fucker (requested) (may/may not include unrealistic selections of the usage/effects of marijuana otherwise known as weed)

AIB (alice in borderlands)

Chishiya

See you on the other side

On the other side (part 2 to fic above) (requested)

Name a star after me

Final Fantasy 7

Sephiroth

Cuddling headcannons (requested)

Trigun stampede

Vash the stampede

Some Vash stuff

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Reader flusters Nicholas (requested)

Lockwood and Co

Fic page here.

Shazam

Fic list here

Resident evil 4 remake

Fic list here

Spider-man: across the Spiderverse

Fic list here

Mortal Kombat 1

Fic list here

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ninja-kitty-more-like-no · 2 years

Note

prompts!!!! what about the first night* vax spent in the Domain? (*for a given value of 'night')

Vax’ildan does not speak for a very long time, after he joins Her. He just stares numbly out into the fields of golden thread, and waits as though something will change.

Nothing does.

The Raven Queen does not begrudge him his silence. She waits alongside him, though for something else– acceptance, maybe. Perhaps She wants to see the moment he understands, but there is no understanding this. Perhaps She wants to see him break, though he cannot imagine that She would want to see that at all. Oh, my champion, She finally murmurs to him, after a period of time that could be hours to weeks- time is strange here. He does not know how long he has been gone from them, only that he feels ancient with it. She moves to face him and cups his chin in Her hands, though She does not turn his head to look at Her. He keeps staring out at the dark expanse, lit and crossed with gold. Her claws move against his throat. I am proud, She tells him, to call you my own.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs back, his mouth dry, his voice small and fragile. His first words as an inherent resident of this place are an apology. “I do not mean to offend you, my Lady, I-”

You have not offended me. She moves to kneel before him, still cupping his chin, so that they are face to face. It is an unorthodox position. Vaguely, he thinks that it is blasphemy for Her to do such a thing, but he supposes that She will simply have to write new scripture if it is. Everything She does is holy. That’s the point. A lump forms in his throat. You are mourning.

“I shouldn’t be.”

Why?

“I knew this was coming,” he tells Her. His voice is rough. “I– I thought I was ready.”

She stares at him implacably from behind Her mask. I did not expect you to be ready.

“I-”

She leans in and kisses his forehead, and he makes a sound that could be a sob were he crying. Your grief is a holy thing, She tells him. I will not ask you to abandon it, beloved.

“It hurts,” he whispers brokenly. They are gone. They are all gone– he is gone from them. He is shaking. She is holding him upright. “My Lady, it hurts.”

I know, She tells him gently. She tugs him down, and he stumbles, falls into Her, his head resting on Her chest as he begins to sob. Oh, my champion. I know.

He spends the next however long curled in Her mantle, laying next to Her in the eternally winding field of gold, shaking quietly with tears. There is no noise but the two of them here, and the distant rush of an unseen ocean. She strokes Her clawed hand gently through his hair, the severing blades of fate scratching lightly at his scalp, careful not to draw blood or disturb him from his reverie. She is so much smaller without Her cloak, so much more human, even with that still, placid mask.

He still feels unbearably mortal.

There is more to my domain than this, She tells him. Her voice is distant, far away, but he looks up at Her as She speaks, wipes at his eyes. You will see all of it, in time. When you are ready.

“Am I not ready now?”

She moves her cloak, drapes a part of it over top of him, granting him some modicum of warmth in this silent, cold place. You are Becoming, She tells him. It will take time.

“Becoming what?”

Celestial. She turns Her head to look down at him, cupping the base of his skull with claws that could slice through his brainstem in any small, quick motion. The thought makes him dizzy, and he blinks several times as a new bout of tears washes through him. It is an arduous thing, Becoming. I remember it well. I would not wish mine upon you.

His eyes must be pleading. She sighs softly, staring out over that same great field, although he does not know what She may see. Your armor awoke, she tells him. It changed. So must your soul become exalted.

He bumps his head against the side of Her leg. She laughs quietly, begins stroking his hair again, as though he is some beloved lapdog– distantly, he is thankful. He does not want to be a person right now. He sniffs again, swallows heavily around the lump in his throat. He has stopped sobbing, but the pain is still there: constant, pressing. “Will it hurt?” he asks, and the question is dull, listless, answered in the same breath it is asked. Of course it will hurt. Everything hurts now.

No, She tells him. He looks up at Her, at Her distant gaze, as though She is remembering something. I won’t let it.

There is something implied there. It takes him a moment to process it. She will not allow this process to hurt him. She will not allow it to put him in pain. “When will it start?”

Another slow, soft stroke, those claws moving against his scalp. She could gut him in an instant, his mind reminds him, and the thought is not wholly unpleasant. The threads in the field move, and suddenly he sees his own threads, stretching out from his prone form across the expanse. No– not across the expanse. Slowly but surely, as though they are drifting through water, they are moving themselves from wherever they were connected to the Matron, settling on Her skin and vanishing into Her form. It already has.

He squeezes his eyes shut. The visual scares him. He does not know if he can feel a difference. She will not let him hurt. She hushes him softly as a quiet, broken noise escapes his lips. My champion, She whispers, you have nothing to fear.

Another small noise. He balls his hands into fists in her soft cloak, thinks desperately of his friends. “Please–”

I would not take your love from you. She sounds sad that he would think so little of Her. Her hand rests around one of his fists, leaving his head. You have given so much of it to me already. Beloved, your fate is not with them any longer.

He is silent. She squeezes his hand, continues on. Your soul is transforming for a new purpose. That does not make its first form any less valuable.

“What’s going to happen to me?” he asks her, even though he does not know if he will survive the answer. The fear is awful and panicky inside of him, and he does not want Her to smooth it flat. “What–?”

You will grow, She murmurs softly. You will change, but you have changed before. It will not be a sudden thing, beloved. You will have all the time you need, and whatever you become, I will love you. I will not let go of you. Not of any of you.

“How long–”

As long as you need, She reassures him. There is no rush. You will be mine today, and tomorrow, and all eternity besides. I am patient, my champion. You are here now. That is all that matters.

He opens his eyes, peers up at her through the tears that blur his vision. She looks back at him, and slowly, gently, removes Her mask, and he sees the face he saw before, when he died in the Feywild. Her eyes are lined in red, as though she has been crying, too. “The Becoming will happen as it happens,” She tells him, smiling sadly, still holding his hand. He can feel the cool pads of Her fingers against his skin. “It will not be some brutal thing, and you will not do it alone. I will be with you.”

“I’m scared, my Lady,” he says, and it feels like a plea. “I’m scared.”

She leans down, Her hair forming a curtain around the two of them, blocking out the golden field. “I know,” She whispers, and gently kisses his forehead. “I was afraid, too.”

It’s cold here, in eternity, but Vax’ildan has been cold before. He remembers the idea of permafrost- how it buries, how it preserves, how it cocoons life and holds it still even as it changed. Purvan– the man who had been Purvan– had given the Matron his name. He had given Her everything.

It does not sound unbelievable anymore.

He presses up into Her kiss, leaning after it even when She pulls away and puts the mask back on, then burrows deeper into her cloak, smushes his face into Her leg even though he’s sure She can still see his tears. She keeps holding his hand. “‘M tired,” he tells her.

Then rest. She squeezes his hand again. I will be here when you wake, beloved.

He does not look back at the great, golden sprawl of forever. Instead, he looks up at Her mask, at what he knows lies beneath it, and sighs, and lets his eyes slip shut.

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfic #vax'ildan #the raven queen #ill post this on ao3 in a bit but yall get a sneak peek #like i said: hes gonna spend eternity being loved #hell be alright #becoming an angel is scary #but shes gonna help him with it #cr spoilers #cr1 spoilers

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ravendruid · 1 year

Text

Acts of Service

Keyleth was exhausted. Every inch of her body hurt like hell, new dull red scars joined the soft white, old ones on her skin, and she was covered in blood and guts. Thankfully, most of it wasn’t hers. Her hair was a mess of tangles, sticks and other debris, and her scalp had dried blood caking on it, making it incredibly itchy. On top of it all, she reeked. She desperately needed a bath, but she had no strength left in her to wash her long, curly hair, much less to detangle it and give it the proper care it needed. Keyleth was barely capable of supporting herself on her staff. Her right leg felt like it was about to cave with the pain of an almost fully healed broken tibia—thank the gods for Pike’s healing magic—as she crossed the large entryway of the mansion. Blue spectral servants came out from the shadows with towels, food and drinks, but Keyleth only had one thing in mind: a bathtub. She gingerly crossed the room, avoiding every living and non-living being, towards the stairs, and she was about to set her foot on the first step when a pair of arms surrounded her waist and pulled her back.

“Let me help you.”

Vax’ildan was equally a mess. He had a few visible scars on his face and hands and a few not-so-visible ones on his chest and thighs. His fingernails were dirty, and although Keyleth couldn’t see it very well, she knew his hair was just as tangled and caked with blood as hers. But he was in better shape than her, with all his bones fully intact, and Keyleth was seriously tired, so she allowed Vax to pick her up and carry her up the stairs toward their bedroom.

Silence fell between the two, only broken by the clanking of Keyleth’s wooden staff falling on the wooden floor and the click of the bedroom door closing behind them. As Vax crossed the bedroom decorated with plants and herbs of all kinds (Keyleth still wasn’t sure how Scanlan had been able to do that, but she loved it nonetheless), Keyleth said a silent thank you to the gnome for always making sure the rooms were at the right temperature and the bathtubs filled with nice warm water, which was precisely where Vax was taking her. Keyleth took the moment of proximity to take in the sight properly. Vax’s face was closed in exhaustion, eyes sunken and dark circles underneath them, yet, there was a softness to her boyfriend that she couldn’t discern, as if Vax had only one thing on his mind. Whatever it was, it was his most well-kept secret.

No matter how many times Keyleth had seen Vax’ildan’s calloused hands hold blade after blade, take lives like one cuts a flower from its stem, and throw daggers accurate to their target with an accuracy she had never seen before, it never surprised her how soft they could also be, so gentle when removing her headpiece, undoing buttons and laces with a dexterity she was oh-so-jealous of, and peeling off the layers of dirt and blood smeared clothes off her body until she was bare before him. Not once she felt ashamed of her body, not even of the tiny scars that dot her skin, nor the beauty marks and stretches of her muscles. Vax always eyed her body with the reverence of a zealot, making her feel like the most beautiful being in existence.

Vax wasn’t as gentle with his own garments, though. He tugged harshly at his strings and almost ripped his seams apart in desperation to rid himself of the weight of the cotton fabric. The only pieces he handled as carefully as he handled Keyleth’s clothes were his boots and armor, often set aside as soon as he entered the bedroom. However, because he had been carrying Keyleth, who was sitting on the edge of the tub, absent-mindedly playing with the warm water as she observed her boyfriend, the boots were instead resting by the bathroom door, and the Deathwalker’s Ward had carefully been placed on the floor by her antlers.

Vax knew Keyleth’s hair-washing routine like the back of his hand. It wasn’t much different than his, wash and condition, but Keyleth’s hair took longer and needed more thoroughness. He started by rinsing the blood away and picking at the larger pieces of debris and twigs. Then he washed it with her lavender-scented soap, making sure to reach the nook and crannies of her knots and to really rub it in her scalp. Keyleth could fall asleep like that, with Vax combing his hands through her hair and his fingers massaging her head. She almost dozed off and let her head fall in front of her, but she was shaken awake by the movement. Vax just chuckled as he rinsed the soap from her hair and pressed soft kisses to the back of her shoulders.

Keyleth was so appreciative of him. She knew how hard it was to manage wild hair like hers, a genuine depiction of roaring flames, contrary to Vax’s soft, manageable raven hair. She was even more appreciative when Vax took the time to comb out her knots and whatever was left of monster guts and leaves as the conditioner sat in. He was gentle with the comb, trying not to pull on her hair and making sure he was holding the back of her head to aid him. Once tangle-free, Vax rinsed Keyleth’s hair a third time and added a special shea butter Keyleth had crafted, making sure to massage it through her entire hair, especially the ends.

“Hmmm,” Keyleth leaned back against his chest. He was warm from the water, and his skin felt good and soft on her back.

Vax didn’t allow Keyleth to relax for long, though. Soon he grabbed a loofah and lathered soap on it to scrub the dirt off Keyleth’s skin without a word. The silence between them was never uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, sometimes Keyleth felt like it was more meaningful than words. As much as she wanted to lean in and feel Vax’s arms wrap around her torso, Keyleth allowed her boyfriend to scrub the blood and dirt away. He was gentle but firm, leaving her skin with a pinkish tone from the roughness of the loofah but never hurting her.

Once Keyleth was pristine and the bath water magically changed for the tenth time, Vax started working on his hair, rinsing it with the warm water. Were this a different day where Keyleth wasn’t trying her best to keep her eyelids from closing as she sat in the tub, she would offer—no, demand—to wash Vax’s hair for him. As it was, Keyleth simply turned her body enough to look at him and follow the movements of his muscled torso as he raised his arms above his head and lathered soap, as he rinsed off the blood and dirt, and as Vax used her conditioner (she had lost count at how many times she had seen him do that, yet it still amused her every time) on his tangled mess. Keyleth was in awe at the speed and dexterity of Vax’s fingers combing the debris of his own hair faster and with rougher movements than he had used on her curls. In the blink of an eye, the comb effortlessly passed through his dark strands. He skipped the nourishing butter, and for that, Keyleth cursed him internally. Not once had she seen him use it, yet his hair was softer than silk. Stupid elven genes. He clearly had gotten the better end of that deal.

“Enjoying the show?” Vax’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, bringing her down from her high of relaxation. Keyleth just nodded, not really having the strength to speak coherent sentences. Vax still understood her perfectly well, just the same.

When Vax grabbed his loofah and started washing his body, the corners of Keyleth’s mouth curled up slightly. No matter how tired she was, she would always enjoy admiring Vax’s toned body, especially following the movement of his hands across his muscles. Only when Keyleth followed Vax’s hands with her gaze did she notice the new scars on his chest and stomach, barely larger than a copper coin, their redness visible against the white of his older scars. She loved counting them, kissing each and every one when she rested her head on his chest every night. Sometimes she would ask him about their stories, and Vax would concede to telling her. Other times he would avoid the answer, cradling his fingers through her hair to distract her. Keyleth didn’t mind it. She had her own battle scars that she wasn’t proud of either.

As her mind drifted off to a faraway land of hopefully good dreams and her eyelids closed, Keyleth missed Vax leaving the tub and wrapping himself in one of the soft, plush purple bathrobes Scanlan had mandated for each bathroom. It was only when she felt herself being lifted from the warm water that she opened one eye to see Vax’s Adam’s apple bobbing so close to her face. He looked yummy. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she wouldn’t hesitate to kiss and nibble on his neck. Even if she wasn’t able to put her thoughts into action, Keyleth’s arms and legs were still covered in goosebumps at the idea, a sign that Vax understood as her being cold (she was far from cold, inside and out, with Vax’s strong arms pressing her against his warm body, and the heat of her devilish thoughts warming her inside).

“Here,” Vax stopped by the door, lowering Keyleth so she could stand on her feet. He grabbed the other robe and helped her put it on. “Better?”

Keyleth nodded in response. It’s not that she was cold before, but the glimmer in Vax’s eyes whenever he took care of her left Keyleth completely vulnerable to his wishes and requests. Her brain had shut down hours ago, and the warm bath and hair care had left her at Vax’s mercy, which is why she didn’t protest when he carried her to bed and helped her put on a soft pair of pajamas, completely ignoring her post-bath moisturizing routine. Vax knew about it, too, as he knew about her hair care routine. He had seen her countless times applying the lotion to herself and helped her on a few occasions, which led to more than moisturizing. Maybe that was why he didn’t offer to help her tonight. He knew she was exhausted—he was probably exhausted as well—and that Keyleth wouldn’t have any energy or desire for anything except sleep.

Keyleth was about to act on her wish to lie down when Vax stopped her with a shake of his head. To her surprise, he grabbed her hairbrush and sat behind her, promptly working on brushing and untangling any knots left. He was going all out to pamper her, which could only mean one thing: Vax was feeling guilty for something, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. She allowed him to brush her hair until it was silky soft (her head increasingly falling in front of her from exhaustion) and braid it just like he always did every night, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head when he finished.

“Sleepy?” Vax asked, getting up from behind her and peeling off the robe that pooled at his feet. With his back to her, Keyleth had a full view of the scar between his shoulder blades, the one she had given him. It wasn’t as old as the others, nor as white. It wasn’t pretty either, but it was hers. Her mark on his body.

“Keek?” Vax turned his head above his shoulders, catching her fixed gaze on his back as he slid one foot down one leg of his loose pants. Keyleth looked up at him, cheeks flushed from having been caught staring.

“Are you looking at my ass?”

Keyleth threw her head back in laughter. Only Vax could make her cackle when she was exhausted and sore. He joined her in bed, lying down and pulling her up to rest her head on his chest once her giggling subsided. Keyleth allowed her fingers to roam his scars, tracing patterns on his skin until she reached one of the new scars. She rose slightly, only enough to press her lips to it. Then she followed her fingers until the next scar and a third one, pressing feather-light kisses to each one. Vax was already looking at her lovingly when their gaze met, and his smile almost made her melt against him.

“I love you,” Vax whispered as Keyleth settled back on his chest and closed her eyes.

“I love you.”

Vax’s nails found Keyleth’s scalp, lulling her to sleep. She cursed him internally for knowing just the right buttons to push to get what he wanted but, at the same time, Keyleth thanked her boyfriend for being so gentle and caring, for having so much patience to deal with her and her issues (like her wild hair and insecurities), and for making her feel so light and relaxed after a stressful day.

[Read it on AO3]

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #vaxleth as love languages #read more for length #my fic #love languages

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saphirered · 2 years

Note

hiii idk if you know the musical Wicked, but I was thinking of an imagine surrounding the song “Not That Girl” with Vax or Percy?

Wicked is soooo good I love it! Hope you like what I cooked up for this one! Did go with a at twist and happy ending though so hope you don't mind. 😘

Percy laughs. Like a proper unburdened laugh. Those have been a rarity for him for many years but finally he is free. Finally he has his love in his arms. Together they are spinning across the dance floor, surrounded by the many who watch them, or dance with them. The halls of this castle no longer drown in the blood of others, instead they shine clean and bright in the candlelight. There is joy once more despite all past horrors. He didn’t think himself capable, to live a life without that constant pain and anger, and while he still has so much grief to go around, it’s more bearable. He doesn’t feel guilty for being happy, and instead finally feels he’s worthy of it, he’s worthy of the beautiful half-elf in his arms. He’s worthy of her smile. He’s worthy of her kiss and her attention. He’s simply worthy. It took him some time to get there but he can finally believe it too, and take her word for it. She is the best thing to ever happen to him.

From that same floor, polished and shining, along the strings of that same music that bounces with the beat of a heart and lulls along the limbs of the restless in beautiful symphonies, there stands another, watching the happy couple as they look at each other lovingly. They deserve this. They have fought for this. That’s what you keep telling yourself. You tell yourself you’re happy for them, and you are. You truly are but you too , are haunted by the memories of a past and your demons have not yet been vanquished by a lover bright. All your life you were told you’d be the one at his side. Your entire existence was built around these chains that constricted you, to live up to that expectation, that destiny. You were supposed to be the one in his arms and you are not. It is not jealousy that fuels you now. No, you do not burst green with envy. You do not long for the Lord of Whitestone. You long for love. You long for the life you were promised and to see that it will never be yours, that hurts, for what is your path now? Where do you go? Where do you belong if not here at this castle? You mourn what could have been, but it does not do well to dwell on such things.

He loves her so, but you’ll never be her. You can’t be and you don’t want to be but that does not make the ache of what could have been go away. So you watch, like so many others, watch them dance, watch them be in love and be happy for them, even if your heart clenches. You dream that maybe someday you will be lucky to find that kind of love, find someone who stares at you like that, who holds you like that, shields you from this world when it becomes too much. He is exactly all those things you’d wish for, but he is not the one for you. So you smile. You smile until your mourning of the life that could have been becomes too much because he loves her so and tell yourself something different. You tell yourself the things you were promised are not what you were born for after all. You’re not meant for the rose and pearl. And thus you slip from the crowd, slip from the beautiful halls, away from the light and into the shadows. You look back at your old life just the once, and you miss the warmth the further from that glow you get. You long to go back but you can’t. You’ll refuse to be stuck in a castle you do not belong. You will never be what you need to be there and you owe it to yourself to just be you.

At the bottom of the stairs Vax’ildan has settled down. Behind him he hears the music, and chattering of the fancy and the fooled. He knows that life all too well. Knows what he was once pushed into, and what he broke free from. He’s not cut out for that life and while he will humour his friends, by attending these gatherings when he needs to, or simply to spend time with them, he can only put up with so much before he’d rather slip back into the shadows. Let the people who glimmer in the candlelight shine. He is perfectly content not being there. But sometimes he wonders; what if he had not discarded that part of his life? What if he had done as his sister had, had tried to fit in and not given up? Would he be dancing with them right now? Would he be clinking glasses over empty promises and charming smiles? Would he have enjoyed it? He doesn’t really know the answer to that. Instead he’ll sit outside on the stairs, in his fancy clothes playing with the dagger he’d kept hidden to distract himself before he made himself scarce.

“You look lonely.” A voice behind him speaks and nearly makes him jump out of his skin. He drops the dagger and it clanks against the stone, beginning to bounce down as his eyes fall on you. You look positively radiant, so much so you catch his breath and he forgets where he is, what he’s doing. You quickly reach out your hand in the air and the clanks fall silent. A translucent hand brings the dagger back to his side as you take some more steps down. Vax shakes himself off.

“I-uh. The company inside didn’t really suit me. What’s your excuse?” It came out a bit more hostile than he intended, given the way you flinch.

“I needed some air and a change of scene.” You speak as proper as ever but that flicker of pain that crosses your features when you look back at the grand castle does not go unnoticed to the rogue, even if you managed to sneak up on him before. You stand there for a few seconds before you take another step and then another. You place the dagger back by his side and dispel the mage hand you summoned to catch it with the flick of your wrist.

“Sorry.” You mutter under your breath even though you know not what for, when you’re about to pass the rogue.

“Come sit with me.” The offer was an impulsive one, Vax will admit but something within him screams. It’s done so before but he’s quelled it then. Now he loosens that restrain simply for one reason; you look lonely too.

“Are you sure?” He gives you a look that answers your question enough and so you look at the step, then at your clothes and the step he’s seated on again.

“What? Scared of some stains on your pretty clothes?” He jokes and you simply plop yourself down. He knows you’ve never been scared to get your hands, or clothes dirty for that matter. He’s seen you crawl through swamps and soil and gore plenty of times. No matter what, you’d always manage to look stunning to him. He’s never shared these thoughts of course because he knew where you came from, he knows where you’re meant to go. He’s not meant for a life like yours. He may once have been among rose petals and gilded halls but that’s not the life he resigned himself to. That’s exactly why he sits on these steps now. You are meant for a different life and he can never be the man that drinks champagne over talks of politics. He’ll never be the one to smile through the bullshit of others. He will never get his steps right of those fancy waltzes no matter how quick and light on his feet he may be. You belong among the shining gems. Not in the shadows with him.

Sometimes Vax wonders, though. He dreams of what a life with you might be. Would he be standing next to you in this life of extravagance? Would he be on that dance floor now with you in his arms, swaying back and forth with a crowd more akin to an audience, ignorant to the performance you’d have to put on in favour of enjoying his time with you? Would he pick you up in your fancy clothes and carry you through the halls to make you laugh? Would you laugh? Would your smile be so bright it would make him feel warm and wanted inside? Would you love him so? Could you love him so? It is not meant to be because you belong up there among the golden ones while he lingers in his shadows, away from the light. His heart aches for what might have been had he chosen the same life as his sister. Where might he be now? Where might you be now?

“You look sad.” You state when you see his frown, and the distance of thought in his eyes as you observe the rogue. It’s an innocent statement, and you seem to reflect his mood in your own voice.

“It’s nothing.” He brushes it off. You always know exactly how he feels. He can’t hide anything from you. No matter how hard he tries, for better or worse. And so a sad smile graces his lips. “You shouldn’t stay too long. They’ll miss you in there.”

“Do you wish for me to leave?” You ask concerned. It nearly breaks his heart how you sound as if you’ve offended him.

“No! No. Please, stay, if you want to. I invited you to sit after all. I just mean, they’ll notice you’re gone. Just don’t feel like you have to because you don’t want me to sit here on my own.” When you visibly relax Vax feels like he can finally breathe again. You relax into your spot; shoulders drooping, and posture slouching just a little, leaving enough of a trace of what you were born into and were you a child, you’d have been scolded for it. You’re at ease. Or as much as you can be. He counts himself lucky to be one of the few people who you feel comfortable around to do so. But then he notices on your features; an expression that mimicked his own and he frowns once more, but not for his own thoughts, and instead for what might run through your own head, whatever it is. You shouldn’t feel sad. You deserve all the happiness in the world. You once claimed you enjoyed nights of dancing and dining, that they never failed to bring a smile to your face but tonight, that seems a forgotten dream.

“You look sad.” He repeats your own words from earlier but fills them with compassion and kinship, fills them with kindness and acceptance because while he’d rather you’d be smiling happily, he understands that sometimes sadness is just as much part of life. You are no stranger to pain and neither is he. Sometimes you just have to be reminded you’re not alone in this and he will gladly show you he’s there for you when you need him, because at the end of the day, even if your life is not meant for him, he still cares about you and still wants you to have all that is good in this life of yours because you deserve happiness. You deserve it. You’ve more than earned it.

“Normally, I might have pretended to smile and dismiss the pure notion of sadness in the eyes of others. But I don’t think I can muster the strength nor courage to do so tonight.” You admit hesitantly. Layer by layer you are shaking off the burdens that were placed upon you. Perhaps this is the start of it; to be true to who you are, who you might be without these comforts you’ve grown accustomed to but were they comforts in the first place? Or have they always been chains?

“It takes just as much strength and courage to say the words you just said.” It’s a simple statement. Not a counter argument. Just an acknowledgement. You take a deep breath as you feel his eyes on you. You opt for staring at the skyline, if only not to break apart now. Vax continues. “You have lived a life shaped by others. You’ve been raised among shining gems and have become the brightest of jewels in turn. But I know it comes with many downsides. I ran away from that kind of life for a reason. I admire you for staying.” He speaks from his heart, true feelings without deceit or some kind of twisting fanciness compelled by the rules of social engagement.

“Sometimes I’ve found myself wondering what would have happened if I had run away. Tonight I just find myself wishing I’d never stepped into a gilded life at all. How did you do it? How did you know your decision was the right one?” Your voice tremors. You’re troubled, it’s clear to see. Vax slowly brings his hand over to yours, placing his palm over it as he wraps his fingers around to hold your hand, giving a reassuring squeeze. He thinks about his answer for a second. Just a second.

“I didn’t know it was the right decision. Sometimes I still wonder if it was, or what might have been if I hadn’t. I think I might have been up there.” He nudges his head towards the castle. “With the others. With you. I might have been dancing and drinking among ‘esteemed company’ even though we both know they’re a bunch of fucking drunkards with too much coin in their pockets.” That brings a smile to your face and lets a light chuckle escape your lips. You look more relaxed this time, and while the sadness still lingers it feels as if some rush of joy remains within. You curl your own fingers around his and squeeze lightly.

“You’re not wrong.” A moment of silence passes. “If it matters, I think you made the right call.”

“How so?”

“Because unlike you, I’ve watched the life set out for me crumble in the end, and be resigned to a futile purpose no longer necessary nor wanted. I don’t belong up there. Not anymore.” There’s the sad again. You look at your clasped hands so Vax turns sideways to face you better. Lifts his fingers beneath your chin and turns your gaze to look him in the eye.

“Hey, it’s your life. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s we get to choose where we want to be; up there between jewels and champagne, down here under the stars and moonlight, or anywhere else we choose to be. Life doesn’t end here nor there. You matter and you are wanted. I know you are. Even if you can’t see it yourself, I see you.” He speaks from his heart. You do not need twelve scholars on social encounters to have taught you that because you feel it in your own heart. You feel like you belong again. Neither here nor there. You belong here right now in this moment and you know, you made the right call walking out here because in a way, the air feels less stuffy and you feel the chains lifting little by little.

“I think those are the most truthful words I’ve ever heard someone say.”

“I think that’s sad.”

“I know it is. But it’s true no less.” Vax rises to his feel, never letting go of your joined hands.

“Come on?” He asks more than anything. You don’t find it within yourself to question, let alone refuse and simply allow him to pull you to your feet and further down the stairs until you stand on even ground once more, the sounds of the party in the distance still audible. He’ll admit he’s acting on impulse and stupidity but that’s exactly what this calls for. He faces you, takes a step back, lowers his head and bends his knees in a curtsy.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?” Vax asks awaiting your answer patiently, not moving a muscle. Some training has stuck with him, even after all these years. Perhaps that was because it was not some teachers and governesses that taught him this. No, his mother did. She taught him how to dance, and while it were no palace waltzes, she taught him the proper etiquette. That’s why he cared to remember them because every time he practiced them it made her smile. He knows you enjoy dancing, be that your fancy and practiced routines, or simply letting loose in the tavern when everyone is a little too deep into their cups.

“I-… yes…” You breathe. And with a smile of his own he rises to look into your bewildered eyes. He crosses his arms at the wrist, lets his palms face upward for you to place yours within.

“Now, tonight we dance the dance of peasants. No more melancholic string quartets. Just let yourself go. Think you can do that?” You give him a thoughtful look, as if you’re debating but he know it’s your lightheartedness coming through and he feels relieved. he feels his heart leap when you take a step closer and place your hands in his with a smile.

And so you spin and twirl and jump and step to the beat of your own drums. You laugh and chime and sing songs of the taverns, and whatever else you might have picked up on your adventures. Vax has rarely seen you like this, this alive, this unrestraint because with every time he twirls you, every time he wraps his arms around you, you seem to grow lighter, less burdened by the weight you didn’t even realise you carried. And finally you are free from the chains that bound you. Like him, you have found your freedom in the shadows. It took him a long time to realise the shadows aren’t so lonely, and only now he realised, perhaps you didn’t belong in the gilded halls. That doesn’t make you less of a perfect diamond. You were simply to precious to be among the many jewels and your beauty truly shines here under the moon, not because of some fancy appearances or good manners but because you smile and laugh and dance to your heart’s content. No longer do you worry about what others might mean or think or say or do at every turn. You can simply be free. Thanks to the rogue who showed you what it means to live instead of just be alive.

It comes to him as a surprise when by the end of the night your lips find his cheek and you mutter a thank you. His cheeks stain crimson when you say you hope this will not be the last of these kind of nights and if it’s up to him, he’ll offer you this every night to come, just to see you happy. You deserve happiness. He’ll hand it to you at every opportunity.

#critical role x reader #vox machina x reader #vax’ildan x reader #vax x reader #vax'ildan #critrole x reader #critical role #critical role fanfic #legend of vox machina #tlovm x reader #vox machina #critical role fanfiction #critical role imagine #percy de rolo x reader #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year

Text

Do you hear that?? The tinkling chime of your favorite instrumental blasting from an oncoming ice cream truck down the street? It's summer where I'm at which means it's time for hot weather and cold ice cream!

Let me write you a drabble/one-shot!

My freezer is on full blast and my shutters are now open until July 31st! What can I get ya?

What I need from you:

☀️ Send me an ask with your preferred ice cream and favorite topping! ☀️ Please only one ice cream and topping at a time, but you are absolutely allowed to request more than one! ☀️ With your ask, please give me a general scenario/idea you'd like to see in it! As you'll see, the tropes are very vague and if you're able to give me some specifics, it will help a ton!

Rules:

☀️ Must be 18+ to partake. Please have your age on your blog. It doesn't have to be specific, just "over 18+" will do! ☀️ I do not and will not write smut, but I can do suggestive as stated below. I also will not write non-con, A/B/O, SA, or cheating. ☀️ No anons allowed. If you ask on anon, I will not answer. Unfortunately with anons, I have no way to confirm your age. ☀️ I do reserve the right to turn down a request. I may dm you with a reason why if I choose not to.

Important notes:

☀️ I do not plan to start on these until I finish my last chapter of my main fic Unspoken Words which means it will probably end up being the beginning of July! ☀️ All characters are aged up. ☀️ I've never written for a lot of these characters so it might take me a bit longer but I WILL get it done. ☀️ This is open to any and all. Following not required but much appreciated! ☀️ I will most likely write gn!Reader unless stated otherwise! ☀️ If not stated, I will most likely write these in a ModernAU unless I can make it work in canon! I may dm you if I'm running into problems.

☀️ Levi ➵ matcha green tea ☀️ Hange ➵ mint chocolate chip ☀️ Erwin ➵ rum raisin ☀️ Miche ➵ cinnamon ☀️ Armin ➵ vanilla bean ☀️ Sasha ➵ cookie dough ☀️ Jean ➵ peanut butter cup ☀️ Connie ➵ cookies and cream ☀️ Marco ➵ double fudge brownie ☀️ Reiner ➵ lemon sorbet

☀️ Gojo ➵ birthday cake ☀️ Megumi ➵ pralines and cream ☀️ Toge ➵ chunky monkey

☀️ Tanjiro ➵ raspberry sorbet ☀️ Nezuko ➵ red velvet cake ☀️ Rengoku ➵ pumpkin spice ☀️ Uzui ➵ neopolitan ☀️ Shinobu ➵ lavender and honey ☀️ Mitsuri ➵ sakura blossom ☀️ Giyuu ➵ sea salt dark chocolate

☀️ Percival ➵ coffee ☀️ Vex’ahlia ➵ salted caramel ☀️ Scanlan ➵ rainbow sherbet ☀️ Pickle ➵ orange dream ☀️ Keyleth ➵ butterscotch ☀️ Vax’ildan ➵ black cherry ☀️ Grog ➵ rocky road

☀️ Sprinkles ➵ first date ☀️ Caramel drizzle ➵ hallmark AU ☀️ Whipped cream ➵ meet-cute ☀️ Chopped nuts ➵ blind date ☀️ Cookie crumbles ➵ hurt/comfort ☀️ Candy ➵ mutual pining ☀️ Fresh fruit ➵ suggestive (smut-adjacent) ☀️ Hot fudge ➵ one bed ☀️ Kitchen sink ➵ whatever you want (within my limits)

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