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devildom-moss · 1 year

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Biting their necks (Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, Thirteen, Mephistopheles)

What would happen if you bit their necks with no warning?

(Barbatos x gn!MC) (Simeon x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC) (Thirteen x gn!MC) (Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

(suggestive)

Word Count: +2,800 (Simeon got +800. Oops)

Barbatos

Baking sessions – or lessons, depending on your skill level – were a good excuse to monopolize a bit of Barbatos’s time. It was just the two of you in the kitchen. He was at the stove, keeping a close eye on the caramel, occasionally brushing the side of the pot with water to prevent scorching. You neglected your station to get behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

Barbatos chuckled. “Did you finish cutting out the dough?”

“I got distracted by how cute you look when you’re in the kitchen. I know I can’t steal you away from Diavolo forever, so just let me have this,” you spoke softly against his shoulder.

“I’m cute? You are the only one I’d let say that.”

“You’re so cute – adorable, even.”

You inched closer to him, and without warning, you bit his neck – just above his collar. Knowing that Barbatos may get upset if you marked him, your teeth barely grazed his skin, but the sensation of your hot breath was enough to make him shiver slightly in your arms. It was a shame how much skin he had covered; there were only so many places you could tease him directly.

“Do you find me so irresistible that you intend to gobble me up?” he asked playfully. His face took on a light shade of pink, yet he still had the sense to stir the cream and butter into the caramel, creating a beautiful silky consistency. You watched him work for a minute.

“If I said yes?”

“I would welcome it – that is, I want it just as much as you do.” You felt his tail wrap around your ankle teasingly. “But I beg that you wait until after we’ve finished baking.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” you cooed into his ear, “but how could I possibly deny your begging?”

“I’ll make it worth the wait. You have my word.” He lifted the pot off the burner, and you took that as your cue to let him go. He turned around, expecting to need to coax you into finishing cutting out the cookies. Slightly surprised, he questioned you: “oh, you did finish cutting out the dough, then? I thought you said you got distracted.”

“I wouldn’t disappoint my favorite man.” However, telling him that you had finished your task and just wanted to hold him didn’t sound as sweet as telling him he was distractingly cute. “You know, that look of surprise on your face is cute, too.”

Before he could respond, the oven dinged, signaling that it had finished preheating. Barbatos poured the caramel into a bowl to cool while you placed the sheet of cookies in the oven. He cleared his throat. “I suppose if you would like, I could indulge you for a few minutes now – just while the cookies bake.”

“So generous.” You pulled him into you, hands quick to unbutton his shirt.

Simeon

If one more demon brother bothered you today, you were going to set something – or someone – on fire. Luckily, Simeon was happy to host you for the afternoon; he didn’t even scold you about making threats of arson.

In the quiet peace that Simeon’s room held, your reading was interrupted by Simeon stretching at his desk – by no fault of his own, really. The lines of his body were so pretty. Maybe you still had some aggression in you that fed your urge to sneak up on him as he continued to write.

Simeon had barely acknowledged your proximity when you leaned down and bit him just above his collar. You heard a sharp inhale leave him, but the way he craned his neck away from you, giving you better access, indicated that he didn’t have any protests. He stopped writing, and you heard his pen drop on the desk. You took the opportunity to kiss down his shoulder and leave a mark there, too. Finally, you were able to pull a soft moan from his lips – stifled as it was.

“H-hey.” His voice was more complaisant than objecting. “Is this supposed to be my reward for letting you hide out in my room?”

“No. You were just too pretty to resist.” You kissed the bite mark on his shoulder, then the one on his neck, before you whispered in his ear, “would you like a proper reward?”

Simeon mulled the words over. “Perhaps.”

You left Purgatory Hall a few hours later, sneaking out without anyone noticing. Simeon returned to writing shortly after. He stayed preoccupied until Luke called him in for dinner.

When Simeon joined Luke and Solomon at the table, he had forgotten all about his bite marks. Luke stared at him, horrified. “Simeon! What happened to you?”

The realization hit Simeon like a cement block. Internally, he freaked out, grasping for anything while Solomon sat there, amused, and refusing any assistance. What Simeon landed on was a disgrace to him as an author: he accidentally turned you into a vampire with a spell while studying. You were so thirsty, and he didn’t know how to reverse the spell right away, so he let you drink some of his blood.

With his clumsy lie settled, Simeon quickly sent you a text to warn you about his story, begging you to go along with it.

MC: Wow. Why’d you have to do me dirty like that? Simeon: Do you want to explain to Luke why you really gave me a hickey? MC: Two. But no. Good luck!

Immediately after, you got a text from Luke, asking how you could bite poor Simeon. You apologized. Luckily, Luke forgave you; it was an accident, after all, but he asked you to be more careful next time. You were definitely going to be more careful.

“Mind telling me what spell you used there, Simeon?” Solomon asked, holding back a snicker. “Maybe I should try it out.”

“Solomon, no!” Luke protested. “You can’t just turn MC into a vampire.”

“Calm down, Luke. I always get consent first.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“It matters quite a lot,” Solomon smirked. Simeon had enough and kicked Solomon under the table with a look on his face that a parent might give an older sibling who can’t hold their tongue.

When Raphael walked into the dining room, Simeon hoped he would be spared from his torment. He wasn’t.

“Where’d you get a hickey from, Simeon?” Raphael asked nonchalantly.

“MC bit him,” Luke explained on Simeon’s behalf as Simeon seemed reluctant to speak.

“Oh, they got to you too?”

“What?” The word fell from the other three in varying degrees of shock.

Raphael shrugged. “What?”

The texts came rolling in again.

Luke: Why did you drink from both Simeon and Raphael?

Shit. You had to think fast.

MC: I didn’t want to take too much blood from either one, so I tried to take a small amount from both of them. I’m so, so sorry. Luke: Oh. I guess that was nice of you. But please don’t do any more vampire spells, okay?

Solomon also sent you a text: Want to suck my blood too, MC? 🖤

Before you could think of an appropriate response to Solomon’s flirting, a new message from Simeon popped up. This was more urgent than Solomon’s shamelessness.

Simeon: “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll remember to cover up – unless you wish to bite me somewhere less conspicuous, that is. Still, somehow, I’m glad you were the one who bit me this time. I can’t imagine how furious Luke would be at me if I was the one to bite you. He’s quite overprotective, isn’t he? However, I think I owe you. A mark for a mark. Perhaps I should throw in an extra one on Raphael’s behalf. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

You were in for it now.

Solomon

Mammon had told you that Asmo gave Solomon a hickey earlier that day. You didn’t know where Mammon was getting his information, but that did sound like something Asmo would do. Still, it made you a little jealous – not because Asmo had done that, but because you wanted to give Solomon a hickey too.

It was fortunate, then, that you had a study session with Solomon planned today. It was less fortunate for your grades and magical abilities that the only thing you had been studying since you showed up in Solomon’s room was his neck. That damn turtleneck wasn’t revealing anything.

Solomon noticed you had been watching him more intensely than usual. It was flattering, but you weren’t making any moves on him, and he was feeling impatient. “Is there something wrong? You keep staring at me.”

“Could you sit down for a minute?” you asked him.

Finally, he thought optimistically. Solomon took a seat on his couch. You walked over to him and hooked a finger under his collar, slowly pulling it down. Nothing. You checked the other side. Still nothing. Heat rose in Solomon’s cheeks.

“MC, what are you doing?”

“Quiet,” you hushed him and checked the other side of his neck again, pulling his collar down a bit lower than before. Where was it? It was a weird thing for Mammon to lie about, but perhaps he was just mistaken. Still, even if Asmo hadn’t gotten to Solomon’s neck recently, you figured it would be a waste to just leave him unscathed. You might as well use your blank canvas.

You leaned down and bit his neck, sucking his skin – trying to mark him as yours. He whimpered at the sudden pain.

When you finally pulled away and inspected the pretty red mark on him, you noticed how flustered his face was.

“How did you expect me to stay quiet while you did something like that?” Solomon ran his fingers over the mark and accompanying teeth indents. “I don’t mind, but what’s gotten into you?”

“Mammon told me that Asmo gave you a hickey. I had to check, but I guess he was wrong. When I thought about Asmo getting to mark you,” you paused, “well, I wanted to mark you too.”

“Oh, he’s not wrong. Asmo did leave me with a hickey. I got rid of it with magic earlier today.” He laughed. “Honestly, MC. If I knew you were the jealous, possessive type, I would have let Asmo play around with me a bit more.”

“I’m not jealous per se. I just wanted to leave my mark on you.”

“You have.” He took your hand sweetly and added, “but I’ll make sure not to heal yours with magic. It’s a shame that you left it below my collar, though. I’d like to show off. Maybe you could leave a few more.”

Thirteen

When Thirteen invited you to her cave, you didn’t expect to find her distracted by her newest trap. The last time she invited you over, she greeted you at the entrance and guided you around. Maybe you had gotten your hopes up too much. It wasn’t as if she promised to give you her undivided attention.

“Work, you little fucker,” she cursed under her breath at the trap on her lap as she unscrewed the back panel yet again.

Your shoulders slumped, and you pouted slightly. This might take a while, you realized. Thirteen wasn’t particularly aggressive around you, but you could feel her tension in the room. Between that and your mounting boredom, you stood up.

“I’m going to take a walk,” you informed her. “You seem a bit busy.”

Shit. That sounded passive aggressive. Maybe you meant to be. She was the one who invited you over. It was reasonable to be a bit irritated. Regardless, it was effective. Your words hit her, and Thirteen almost dropped the tools in her hands – tightening her grip just before the pliers and screwdriver slipped from her grasp. She set her tools and her latest trap on the table quickly before standing up.

“Baby, no, wait. Come here.” Thirteen opened her arms wide for a hug, wanting you to come back into her embrace. You conceded, and once you were close enough, she pulled you against her body. “Sorry. I should have finished this before you showed up. I just had some last-minute issues, and I was in the zone. But he can wait. I promise.”

You buried your face in Thirteen’s neck. How was it possible for a reaper living in a cave to smell so sweet? You bit her softly as revenge for her neglect. She let out a startled yelp, but she didn’t stop holding you until you released her skin. Her breath was shaky, and her face was pink when she asked, “what was that for?”

“Punishment,” you admitted. “Is that okay?”

Thirteen laughed and pulled you backwards in the direction of her bed. Despite the fact that she was the one walking backwards, you nearly tumbled over her when she plopped down. You barely stopped yourself by putting your knee at the edge of her bed – right between her legs. She met your gaze when you stared down at her.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Her pupils dilated, and the faint blush still sat on her cheeks. “Punish me more.”

Mephistopheles

“Why are you in the RAD Newspaper Club room again? I don’t remember inviting a foolish human to distract me today.” Mephisto sighed and scanned over a draft of an article on the new exhibit at the botanical garden. Technically, he had invited you to visit him earlier in the week “if you wanted to see how much effort goes into [his] work,” but he had clearly forgotten in his resolution to being a grump today. “You know little about the Devildom, and I don’t require your assistance. So, I invite you to get out.”

Sometimes his commitment to being a dick was tiring – especially when you were fully aware that he held some strong, affectionate feelings for you underneath it. Hell, he had glanced in your direction three times already, and they were not glances that suggested he wanted you to leave. If he wanted to play his little games, you could at least chastise him a bit – well, a bite.

“Alright, I’ll go, but first,” you left him in anticipation as you walked around his desk and leaned down behind him. You sank your teeth into the side of his neck, earning an adorably pained groan. Served him right.

As soon as you let go, Mephisto shot up from his chair. That was your cue to run. You rushed out of the room and hurried down the hall before he could finish telling you to “get back here this instant.”

You ran, stupidly glancing back just in time to bump into something solid. When you turned back to where you should have been looking, you were met with Lucifer’s confused face.

“Why are you running in the hall? What’s gotten into you? Are you alright?” Lucifer held you firmly in place by the shoulders. He was searching your eyes with concern. It was sweet of him to be worried, but you didn’t have time to stand around being worried over when the click of Mephisto’s heels was quickly approaching. He wasn’t running – but those long legs hastened his pace. He was like Michael Myers with a bit more urgency. “MC. What is it? Answer me.”

Lucifer’s concern had stalled you enough for Mephisto to catch up. He grabbed you by the back of the collar and pulled you out of Lucifer’s grasp.

“Wait,” Lucifer demanded. “What are you doing?"

“I’m taking this,” Mephisto informed him without turning around as he dragged you in the opposite direction. “It’s mine.”

Lucifer felt a portion of his brain die off. He swiftly turned on his feet and walked away. He was not dealing with this today.

“Can you let me go?” you asked Mephisto while squirming in his grip.

“If you don’t come willingly, I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”

“Are you even that strong?”

Mephisto’s eyes widened as if you had insulted him. You might as well have called him a weakling. He took your words as a challenge and pulled you into the nearest empty classroom. Once inside, he locked the door and held you close with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back. Before you could register what happened, Mephisto had dropped you to the ground, landing over you, straddling your hips. His hands had protected your head and back from harsh contact with the floor.

“Ow. That still hurt my butt, you know?” You stared up at him. It actually didn’t hurt that much, but you wanted to complain.

“I’ll kiss it better later if you need me to, you big baby.” Mephisto sighed and pinned your hands to the side. “Strong enough for you?”

You made a half-hearted attempt to struggle. “Point taken; now you can get off.”

“Oh, no, I can’t.” Mephisto let you go with a smirk. He loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. “We need to finish what you started, foolish human.”

(Mammon, Satan, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Raphael version)

(Lucifer, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Belphegor version)

#barbatos #simeon #solomon #thirteen #mephistopheles #gn!mc #obey me short fic #not me struggling to figure out how I want to format texts in this...#hoping to feed the Mephisto stans with this one for real though #and the Barbatos Simeon Solomon and Thirteen lovers too #obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles

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kakujis · 1 year

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do you love me? 2;

synposis: they wake you up at 3am to ask if you love them. pt 1 here. 3 + 4

warnings: gn!reader, clingy bfs, no set timeline, kazutora's is a lil sad, insecurities, implications of cheating(there is none tho). not proofread!

feat: kakucho, kazutora, izana.

a/n: after i wrote the first part, i wanted to do the same thing but switched! this is the most flowery, fluttery, butterflies searching for a drink type beat drabble i've ever written. i haven't written like this in a while soo i hope it makes sense lol. the tone of kaku's is a lil different because i started his first oops! also big ty to @fuyuluvr for helping me finish izana's bit. ♡

kakucho had never once doubted you, not when you’ve told him he’s the sun and the moon and the reason why the stars gather in the night sky, cheesy words always getting a hot blush on his face. how could he, when you’ve barreled through the doors of your shared apartment to jump into his waiting arms, peppering kisses along his jaw, whines of “i missed you! i missed you!”.

but it’s hard lately when he finds you and rindou with hushed voices at the gym, sitting on a bench, sheepish grins on your faces when he approaches to ask what the two of you have been talking about.

“nothing!” you exclaimed, slipping your phone back into your pocket, scooting farther from the blonde beside you. “i’m gonna head out okay? i’ll see you later.” you exchanged one more glance with rin who nodded to you. kakucho remembers the surprised look on your face, when he pulled you into a particularly tight hug pressing his lips to your forehead, “see you at home,” you said, eyes softened before breaking free and walking out.

he tried his best to not pry throughout his workout, tried his best to not get angry when rindou asked, “you alright?” when he noticed the particularly quick responses that kakucho was throwing at him.

“yeah, i’m fine.” he assured, fighting the urge to accuse his friend of anything nefarious. but man was it hard with this little nail in his heart hammering away at his insecurities and worst fears. maybe it was time to take izana’s advice and “just ask them about it.”

and that’s how he ended up here, sitting awake at 3am listening to the tick of a clock. even in your sleep you clung on to him, drooling and snoring on his arm.

gently, he reaches over to shake your shoulder. the shift made you cling harder, eliciting a whine from your sleepy state. kakucho chuckles, before he shakes a little bit harder, already feeling a little silly at his concerns.

“you awake yet?” he asks when you finally start to blink your eyes and glance up at him.

“hi,” you yawn, using your hand to wipe at your drool, “what time is it?” you prop yourself up, squinting at the clock on the wall.

“like 3am.” he says, unable to hold back the smile on his face as he studies your sleepy expression.

“hmm? why are we awake then?” you yawn again, droopy lids starting to fall again, but kakucho stops you before you’re able to fall asleep.

“wait,” he mutters, pulling you up so that you’re pressed against his chest and facing him. he places his hands on the sides of your cheeks, staring straight into your drowsy eyes. “do you love me?”

the question catches you off guard, you’ve never seen him so serious before. there’s a crease in his brow and his heterochromatic eyes hold something like worry, something that’s scared, as if you’d say no.

you blink off the sleep that once riddled your bones before scowling, “kaku.. what kinda question is that? of course i love you.” you assert, squirming until you’re straddling him. you place your hands on top of his own, prying one down to lace with your fingers. “why?”

he looks away, burning under your gaze, “it’s nothin’,” he mumbles, dropping his other hand from your face. but since you’re fully awake now, the haze of sleep gone, you catch on fast, the wheels in your head rewinding back to earlier that day at the gym.

“ohh,” you hum, removing your hand from his and cupping his face this time so that he’ll look at you. “is this because of earlier? with rindou?”

“maybe..” he says, eyes darting away from yours, “it’s just weird you don’t want me to hear what you two are talking about and it’s also not the first time so...”

you sigh, climbing off of him and reaching over to the nightstand on your side of the bed to grab your phone. settling back next to him, you unlock the screen and click on your messages. you wiggle your phone at him adding, “i’ve got nothing to hide, see?” before you open the texts with rindou:

y/n: HEY

rindou 🙄: hi

y/n: IS PROJECT KAKUCHO STILL A GO??

rindou 🙄: project kakucho???

y/n: dont tell me u forgot… his birthday is coming up!!!

the conversation continues with the plans the two of you had made specifically for kakucho’s birthday, the venue, the people invited, what kind of cake you should get, etc. you scroll slowly, periodically glancing up at your boyfriend as the blush on his face deepens. probably from a mixture of embarrassment and the way every mention of his name has some type of adjective describing how cute he is.

“see? i wanted to surprise you.” you say, beginning to hand the phone over, “you can scroll up even earlier if you want.”

“no, i trust you…” he says before taking your phone and putting it down on the nightstand. “sorry, that was sort of stupid of me.” honestly, he had completely forgotten about the occasion, it was just another day for him.

you shake your head, “well.. i can’t blame you. if i’m thinking about it from your perspective, i’d probably be a little suspicious too.”

he blinks, caught off guard by the way you agreed without a hint of sarcasm. “really?”

you nod, “yup… especially if i didn’t trust my partner, cmon now! rindou?” you tease and he groans out another “sorry.”

“couldn’t you have thought i had a crush on one of your cute friends?” you scoff, crossing your arms.

“rindou is cute though.” he says quickly and matter of fact, not really processing what he’s just said.

“huh?”

“he’s… y’know, he’s good looking.” he repeats, gesturing with his hands and glancing down at you. your face is unreadable as you take in the information, those little gears in your head turning again.

“hm. well, if he’s so good looking then you should totally date him.” you joke, trying your best to keep a straight face.

“that’s not what i meant!” kakucho exclaims, running his hands down his face and you laugh.

“gimme my phone, i’ll set you up.♡” you chime, holding your hand out. “besides i think he’s into you too! totally checks you out at the gym.”

“can you stop?!”

kazutora:

kazutora has an annoying little habit, where he doubts if you really love him, which culminates in late night questioning. you’ve assured him many times before that you don’t mind, you’ll tell him as many times as he wants and you’ll reassure him whenever he’s doubtful, but he hates it. this little worm of insecurity that digs its way through his stomach, his chest, until it makes it up into his brain, shaking and bouncing off it’s walls until he can’t take it anymore.

he hates this feeling, more so because he knows it’s stupid, he knows there’s no reason for it, there’s never been any indication for it and yet, he still cries or lashes out because of it. like maybe he's not that good of a person, maybe he's not what you need, and maybe he'll never be enough. what better time for insecurity to sink it’s fangs in than the dead of night?

he rolls over, cheek squished against the pillow. reaching over to quickly pull you closer to him, back against his chest. you shift a little, rousing out of sleep, tilting your head up towards his with a little curl of a smile. it’s so easy to read him now and pick up on his mood changes, but you think nothing negative, instead feeling warm that sometimes he’s so vulnerable with you, searching for his security like a child looking for their favorite blanket.

“hi tora,” you mumble, voice heavily laced with sleep, “what’s wrong baby?” he doesn’t answer at first, the only response to you being an even tighter squeeze under his muscled arms. you respond back, wriggling under his touch, pressing so far into him it’s as if the two of you are trying to mold together and become one.

“do you love me?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“i’ve never loved anything more,” you proclaim and kazutora gives a little needy whine while his hands start to wander up the expanse of your skin and you giggle as his touch tickles you under the sheets.

“you’d pick me every time?” he asks, the heaviness in his heart lightening with each breathy giggle of “that tickles!” but it’s his way of comforting himself, whether it’s running his hands over your bare skin or inserting them into your jacket pockets while he holds you from behind, kazutora finds solace in the warmth of your body.

“mhm! every time, without a doubt! now stop!” you say in between laughs, desperately trying to push his hands off of you but he’s stronger, hands curling into the plush fat of your side and you yelp. “toraa!”

“hmm?” he teases, continuing his relentless assault. but the way you’re kicking and squirming has his hold on you weakening. you’re unable to fully control your movement, thrashing as your elbow flies back, hitting him right in the stomach. “ow, fuck!” he groans, releasing you and rolling over. he grimaces as he places a hand where you hit him, curling inwardly on himself.

out of breath, you roll onto your knees, sitting up while you scoot closer to him. one hand rests on your side, aching from your previous uncontrollable laughter.

“not my fault.” you pant when he glances up at you with puppy dog eyes. “i told you to stop.” you roll your eyes at him, but the pout gracing his face persists and you give in. you bend over, brushing away stray blonde locks from his face before you bend down and give him a kiss. “sorry.”

“s’okay,” he grins, eyes crinkling as he pulls you back down into his embrace. there’s a few minutes of silence, the only noise being the occasional swivel of fabric underneath your feet as readjust every so often. “you really meant it, right?” he asks, breaking through the silence, that pesky little worm still rearing it’s ugly head in his thoughts.

“every word.” you reply, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. you place a finger on his lips as you continue, hoping to dispel the rest of his worries. “in any dimension, in any lifetime. if i could live a thousand lives, i’d pick you every time.”

he blinks before he’s pushing your head down to rest on his chest. there’s no vocal response, instead only the tremble of his body as his grip on you turns crushing, one hand’s fingers intertwined with the tresses of your hair. you realize now that it was due to his embarrassment, a silent plea to just this once, not look at him as his relief spills out as fat, droplet tears that run down his face and onto yours. but it’s okay, you’ve always embraced the rain.

izana:

izana thinks its insane every time you pull at the that strings that hold together his weary heart. but you pluck at them with each call of his name that rolls off your tongue like a siren call, entrancing and pulling him towards you and only you. with those vibrations he seeks you like a moth to a flame, fluttering towards your light and basking in the glow.

heavy and sluggish, he trudges up the stairs to your shared apartment inwardly cursing about how late it is. the plan is to take a shower and get in bed as quietly and quickly as possible. you’re definitely asleep by now, so he tries his best to enter silently, not wanting to wake you. but as he tiptoes into your bedroom, the sight of you asleep huddled under the covers as you hug izana’s pillow has him falling onto the bed, gently taking the pillow from your arms and replacing it with himself.

you scrunch your face as you awaken, heavy lidded eyes blinking and adjusting to the blurry image of izana before you. pretty lavender eyes watch you with a small upturned grin that grows wider at your, “mm?” the chirrup of your voice like the birdsongs in the morning. izana thinks you’re the prettiest melody, better than any song on the radio or classical composition.

“good morning.” he says and you tilt your head quizzically, squinting at the alarm clock on your nightstand, the lull of sleep still beckoning you over.

“it’s 3am, zana,” you whine when you read the red blink of numbers, trying to roll over but he holds you still, arms wrapped around your hips.

he shrugs, a smirk on his face. “and?”

“and i was sleeping.” you mumble, irritation lacing through your voice before frowning and closing your eyes.

the quirk of his grin falls, settling into a line, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. he knows he came home late and he knows it’s probably annoying to be woken up, yet he was hoping you’d still be excited to see him, to be with him.

“do you love me?” he asks, knowing it’s a dumb question. your reaction is normal, but being around you makes him feel abnormal, and he’s so greedy for everything you’ve got. he thinks you’ll reprimand him again for keeping you awake, but instead you hum when he starts to caress your face, the pad of his thumb running over your skin in airy strokes.

“mhm. i love, love you.” you reply, happily keening up into his touch, pressing your cheek further into his hand.

“say it again,” he says and you open one eye, quirking an eyebrow. you almost say, “really?” but the insecurity dancing in his eyes stops you and you comply.

“i love you.” you say again, a little louder this time.

“again.” he commands.

“izana..” you huff. you know him, this could go on for hours if you gave in.

“just one more time, please?” he pleads hanging onto his last word. he’s never told you, but this is his favorite song, the kind that always gets stuck on replay in his head. the one that he puts on to comfort him when the outside noise of daily life is a little too loud.

“i love you.” you sigh, conceding and punctuating it with a quick peck on his lips and he grins. “happy now?”

he nods, “i’ll never get tired of hearing that.” he presses a kiss to your cheek, letting you settle back into a more comfortable position. you lay with your back to his chest, as he cages you from behind. “now get some sleep, its late.”

you’re quick to look back at him, eye brow raised in disbelief. “you’re literally the one who woke me up?”

“shh, that doesn’t matter, just go to sleep.”

“but-“

“good night, love.” he interrupts, thinking that he should record it the next time you sing him such a pretty number.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #kakucho #kakucho x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora hanemiya x reader #izana kurokawa #izana kurokawa x reader #pibby writing #this was totally not self indulgent (it was)

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yayakoishii · 4 months

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Fangs | Katakuri x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: Fluff?

Summary: You catch a glimpse of Katakuri's full face for the first time.

A/n: I finished Wholecake Island arc yesterday and I totally fell in love with Katakuri; I love honourable fighters, and especially ones with a sense of humour! So I wrote this in one sitting suddenly out of nowhere, lol. This fic is based on how I view him, so he might feel ooc to some, but I hope you still like and enjoy it ♡

also available on ao3!

"Go give this to Katakuri-sama," your superior handed you his layered scarf. You were still new at your job of tending to the mansion of the Minister of Flour. Actually, you were new to Totto land in the first place, so you didn't even know anyone there very well. Still, you were determined to work hard and make sure you would belong and feel at home in this fascinating land.

"Yes, ma'am!" You carefully picked up the scarf and trotted towards Katakuri's room. You hummed to yourself as you walked, wondering why Katakuri was missing his scarf. You had never seen him without it.

Although you were new here, you felt happy that of all the places you could have been assigned to for work, it was in Katakuri's mansion. The second son of Big Mom was quiet, serious and diligent– but even without saying anything, he was also quite respectful and kind. Even though you were new, you liked working for him.

Everyone said he was the perfect man, someone who never relaxed and was undefeated. You could believe the latter two, but you wondered if he really was perfect. Everyone has some flaws. Maybe no one knew his. But, you felt that even if he was flawed, he would still be perfect because of how he treated you. Though he hadn't gone out of his way to make you feel welcome, you could feel the way he looked out for everyone. He was always supporting and protecting everyone by himself– and there was nothing more attractive than that, in your opinion.

Katakuri's door was open so you leaned in and knocked. "Katakuri-sama?"

The said man was standing in the middle of the room with an identical ruined scarf in his hands with his back to you. You waited for his response.

"Place it on the dresser and close the door before you go," his calm voice sent shivers down your back. It always gave you goosebumps for some reason, but they were the good kind. You said a quick yessir and waltzed in to place the scarf on the dresser. You were expected to do your job and leave but the part of you that had the smallest crush on the sweet commander got you looking into the mirror to catch a glimpse of him before you left.

To your shock, Katakuri was looking at you through the mirror too. Both of your eyes widened and you quickly turned around and bowed a full ninety degrees, crying, "Forgive me, Katakuri-sama! I wouldn't dare to meet your eye!"

There was silence for a few seconds. You stayed frozen, heart beating rapidly. You didn't know what would happen. No one had told you what to expect if you ever made a mistake like this. Was looking him in the eye, when he hadn't told you to, a crime enough to lose your life? You didn't know, but you hoped that he would be kind or even that he would ignore you.

Instead, you felt his long legs cross over to your side. You felt him loom over you to pick up the scarf you had placed and you waited with bated breath. It seemed like he was wearing the scarf you had brought in. Oh. Now that you had gotten over the panic, you realised that you had actually caught a glimpse of Katakuri's entire face for the first time.

"Rise."

He still sounded calm but you could feel the fear shaking you like a leaf. Katakuri was so much taller and stronger than you. He could snap you into two with the flick of his wrist probably. And while that usually was something you would find hot, today it was something that was sending cold sweat down your back. You followed his command, immediately straightening up and staring ahead. You could never meet his eye ever again.

"Look at me."

Great, you internally groaned. While that command would usually make you very happy, today it sounded like the announcement of your execution. Still shaking, you turned to face him and looked up in his eyes with unmistakable fear. You noted that he was wearing the scarf you had brought and it was covering up the sharp fangs you had seen before.

Why are you hiding your cool fangs, Katakuri-sama?

"You want to see my… teeth?" Katakuri sounded shocked. You startled, staring at him with wide eyes. Did he just read your mind?! No, no, this was probably the future seeing power of Katakuri. Which meant you were probably going to end up blurting your thought of wanting to see his cool fangs out.

"No, no, I wouldn't dare to ask that of you," you hurriedly said, clasping your hands close to your chest. Your body wouldn't stop shaking.

"Why do you tremble in fear if you find them…" Katakuri abruptly cut off, looking away from you. At his height, you couldn't see his scarf covered face properly but, you really did want to see his whole face again.

"I am not afraid of your teeth if that's what you were wondering about, Katakuri-sama," you admitted, fidgeting on the spot. "I am just afraid that I may have offended you by looking at you when it is expected of the servants to just do their job and leave."

"Why aren't you scared of my mouth?" He frowned. You blinked and looked him in the eye with more confidence.

"You have given me no reason to fear you, Katakuri-sama," you answered softly, giving him your warmest smile. The action only made his eyes wider. "And… they looked really cool. They suit you well, Katakuri-sama."

No one had ever said that to him. Although not many had seen his uncovered face, Katakuri still remembered what had happened the last time he had been open about it. His teeth were hideous and made him seem monstrous. So naturally, you should be afraid of him. You should find them ugly and be disgusted; and yet, you were standing in front of him, no longer shaking like a leaf, but instead giving him the warmest and loveliest smile he had ever seen. His usually unwavering heart skipped a beat at the sight.

"If, if you give me any punishment, I will accept it," you said, determined. "My only wish is to still be of service to you, if you would let me."

"No need," Katakuri said, looking away from you. For some reason, his cheeks felt unusually warm to himself. "Just make sure never to make any mention of this to anyone else."

"Yes, of course!" You bowed again, feeling relief washing over you. "I am eternally grateful to you, Katakuri-sama! I promise to never make any such mistake ever again. I would never dare to look at you."

"And if…" he hesitated for a second as he pulled down the scarf just slightly to reveal the tips of his biggest fangs. He ended up blurting the rest when he saw the adorable way you tilted your head in curiosity. "And if I want you to?"

You said his teeth were cool right? So, you would still like to see him even without the scarf, right? He was being risky here, showing you this vulnerable, flawed side of himself, but unusually, his heart seemed to trust in you.

"If you want me to," you blushed furiously, giving him a shy smile, "then I wouldn't dare look away."

Katakuri's heart skipped another beat. It really was acting so strange today.

"Can I say something, Katakuri-sama?" You seemed hesitant to say it. Was it something offensive? Had you perhaps changed your mind? Steeling himself to hear it, he opened his mouth to say yes and saw a flash of what you were about to say.

You are really quite handsome, Katakuri-sama.

He froze, mouth slightly opened to utter an affirmation that never came. You were still staring at him nervously, wringing your hands. His cheeks felt even warmer as the seconds trickled by. Then, he cleared his throat and turned away from you so you wouldn't see the way his face was starting to match his hair.

"Perhaps another time."

It was a dismissal and he watched you leave his room. You closed the door behind you, and Katakuri felt his heart collapse into his stomach.

What was this strange fluttering feeling in his chest?

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

a/n: I wanna write more for Katakuri so if you have any cute ideas, send them my way! requests are open hehe~

#one piece #one piece fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #charlotte katakuri #charlotte katakuri x reader #charlotte katakuri x you #katakuri x reader #katakuri x you #katakuri one piece #katakuri fanfic #fluff #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader

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onlyfrags · 1 month

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How They Kiss You: Chamber

Authors note: I am alive!!! I apologize for taking so long on stuff, my life has very recently become very hectic but I promise content is being created ;-; Until one of the bigger pieces is finished, plz enjoy some chamber!

Chamber Kiss Headcanons | X GN Reader

Chamber is a peculiar case when it comes to how he kisses you. And it all depends on whether you've cracked through his persona yet. If you were dating Chamber, or if you were dating Vincent.

If your relationship is new, His kisses are swift and aren't very satisfying, as if he is always rushing to do something else.

Chamber is a busy man, so a swift kiss on the forehead as he leaves to start his day makes sense. When he greets you, he kisses both sides of your cheeks and gives you his signature smile. And when you are leaving, he may press a quick kiss to your lips before ushering you out the door so you aren't late for whatever plans you may have.

He would rarely kiss your lips but would give you pecks and quick kisses if you asked him to.

His kisses never linger and never seem to have much emotion to them. Even if you were to pull him into a gentler kiss, a more needy one, it would seem like he is quick to pull away and press a second to your forehead, possibly cooing about how precious to are or about how cute you seem.

It almost felt performative at times. Fake, even.

And it's because it was. To him, the kisses were to appease you. To sell that your relationship was real despite it benefitting him in some way, shape, or form. He wanted to keep his distance from you but knew that he had to at least give the bare minimum to keep you around. ...

But that all changes the second you break him. The second he realizes just how much he cares about you. That's when Chamber becomes Vincent.

This can happen in multiple ways, but the outcome is always the same. The man who had been keeping you at a distance, completely changes.

Now, his kisses have emotion to them. A need and fire that had been lacking previously before.

He would find himself cupping your cheek as he admires you, watching you talk or do whatever things that brought you happiness, and would just smile before pulling you into a kiss.

Sometimes, he would teasingly lift your chin if you weren't paying attention or got shy. His little chuckle would give away his fondness for you again before pulling you into a shorter kiss, but one still full of love

Deeper kisses now were met with equal eagerness. His hands which would have never held you close, grip your waist or run gently across your lower back as he tilts his head while returning your kiss.

Kissing Vincent never left you wondering if you were being lied to or led on. He never let you question your worth to him. Unlike before when he would have listed your achievements and sang you praise at the first sign of self-doubt, he would just chuckle softly and pull you into another loving kiss to take your worries away.

#valorant x reader #Valorant X gn reader #Valorant Headcanons #Chamber X reader #Chamber Headcanons #Vincent Fabron x reader #valorant Chamber x reader #Valorant Chamber #I didnt proofread this lmao forgive me #He might be OOC its honestly been a minute since ive looked at this french twink

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the-kr8tor · 1 year

Text

Snow and Piercings

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN Reader/ Spider-punk x GN reader.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: established relationship, No use of Y/N, no specific physical description, fluff, tw needles, smut only implied. SFW

Synopsis: Snowed in, Hobie's bored out of his mind, he suggests to pierce your ears.

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Getting snowed in when you were a kid was the best- no school, watching cartoons the whole day, and drinking hot cocoa. Now being an adult and getting snowed in isn't as fun as when you were younger. Work was canceled due to the extreme weather, so you and Hobie use the time to catch up on chores around the flat, again not that fun. Well at least you don't have to go to work, and best of all there's no crime happening in the city, therefore you have Hobie all to yourself.

The only downside to having Hobie at home all day is that he's an absolute menace. With no crime being reported, Hobie's bored out of his damn mind, without him spider-manning around the city, he has all this pent up energy that he currently has no outlet for. He tries to use up all his pent up energy by trying to make chores fun- he throws the laundry across the room towards the washing machine like a basketball, all the laundry goes in the machine without challenge, with his enhanced senses it quickly becomes boring.

You suggested that he crawl up the ceiling with a broom to clean the cobwebs. But it ended up making more of a mess, you underestimated how dirty the ceiling was with dust bunnies floating down on your head like snow. You both ended up vacuuming the entire place twice.

Finally, with the flat all clean and the laundry all folded, and a quick shower. The both of you can finally relax and enjoy your day off.

You were finishing up making hot cocoa for the both of you, when Hobie suggested that he pierce your ears, your left helix specifically.

Hobie Hugs your middle as you pour hot cocoa in both your cups. The air sickenly sweet from the chocolate drink. A smile spreads across your face when Hobie lovingly rubs his face on your back.

"C'mon lovey, I'll be gentle." He pleads, he's being incredibly sweet, he thinks if he butters you up and gives you enough hugs you'll eventually say yes. He's right, though you wouldn't admit it to him.

"Babe, you're just bored. Why don't you fiddle with your guitar for a bit" you say as you hand him his mug of hot chocolate. You turn your back at him to grab something from the cupboard.

"Fiddle?" He sounds offended "First of all I don't 'fiddle' with my guitar, and second of all-" his drink sloshes to the side while he animatedly makes finger quotes when he says fiddle.

He pauses as he notices his mug without marshmallows. "Love, you forgot my mallows" he stretches his mug to show you.

You plop the aforementioned marshmallows in his mug. "No I didn't, and again you're just bored, we'll find something to do eventually" You head to the living room, Hobie following right behind you.

You turned towards him "We could watch a movie, or something to get your heart pumping perhaps?" You wink at him, while sipping from your mug.

"I'll take you up on that offer" Hobie chuckles at your implication.

Hobie grabs your waist with his free hand pulling you towards him. Your heart immediately racing at his reaction, you're sure he could hear it with his enhanced hearing.

Hobie closes the distance between the two of you, his lips ghosting over yours. You hold your free hand to his neck leading him towards you but he doesn't budge. You close your eyes and wait for the kiss but it doesn't come, you open one eye to see what's the hold up. Hobie pulls away from you while chuckling into his mug.

"You're awful" you feign annoyance, but your smile gives it away. You throw a couch pillow at him, he dodges it smoothly. Right, spidey sense you forgot for a second.

Hobie smirks at you through his mug.

You fake an annoyed sigh "If I say yes, will you stop being a menace?" You make it sound like you finally got annoyed by his antics by letting him win. But you actually wanted to get your helix pierced for a while now, you're just terrified of the pain, and for the aftercare? You're definitely gonna forget to clean it. But now with Hobie offering to pierce it himself, you now have an excuse to get it. And with a little charm on the side, Hobie will definitely help you clean it.

Knowing that Hobie will be the one piercing, you know you'll be taken care of during and after the procedure.

"No promises" He puts his mug down on a nearby table. "Stay there" he points at you as he speed walks to your bedroom to grab his kit.

You bring the mug to your lips to drink, but get startled when Hobie appears back in the living room, clutching the kit in one hand, "you can't change your mind!" he excitedly raises his voice. You can't blame him for his excitement, since there's not much happening today, you're just glad he finally gets some of that pent up energy out.

You watch him move all over the flat while sipping your drink. He goes to the kitchen opening the top cupboard with his web, he sticks to the wall on the side and crawls up to grab a box of gloves. He then shoots his webs at another cupboard at the end and yanks it back to open the cabinet, Hobie then crawls all over the newly cleaned ceiling to get to it, he grabs a roll plastic sheet from within. You watch him in awe, you'll never get used to seeing him using his powers.

Now carrying the supplies, He backflips back down. "Show off" you tease, but he's too excited to notice, he's practically vibrating with excitement. You grin at his state. You're curious as to why he's so excited, since he's pierced people before. Maybe because this is the first time he's piercing you?

Hobie lays out the plastic sheet over the dining chair and table, he opens his kit which he then lays them out on the table. He heads to the kitchen to wash his hands thoroughly. Once finished, Hobie holds his hands up with his palms facing him, like he's a surgeon preparing for his next surgery. He heads back to the table and puts on a pair of latex gloves.

"You look so punk right now" You ogle at the rare sight.

Hobie is standing next to a plastic draped chair with his hands still in that weird surgeon position, the only thing to complete his look is if he's wearing a medical mask.

"Well, piercing safely is very punk, sit down, lovey" he gestures at the chair. Hobie looks so smug, thinking he's won you over.

"I don't remember all of this plastic when you were piercing Ned" you sit down, the plastic crinkle as you settle down.

"It's Ned, he can handle it"

"So youre saying I can't handle it?"

"No, it's because you're not Ned" I love you more, and because it's you, He meant to say, you look at him lovingly which means you know exactly what he truly meant. He stares down at you full of adoration in his eyes, he grabs the side of your head to move some hair out of your face.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks tentatively. His voice is soft and without any teasing behind it.

"It's you Hobie, I Trust you" you hook your finger into his belt loop to steady the tremors of your hands. But knowing it's Hobie, eases some anxiety.

Hobie gives you one of his signature smirks. He then grabs a cotton ball dipped in alcohol to clean the area where your new piercing will go. You shiver at the cold liquid hitting your ear.

"It's just the alcohol, sweets" he reassures you.

"I know, just the anticipation is killing me" you're still holding onto his belt loop.

"Keep talking to me, it'll be over before you know it" he grabs your chin and lifts it to give you a chaste kiss on the lips. "For courage" he says with a wink.

You get distracted by the kiss and miss it when he grabs the needle from the table.

"That's it, love. Keep looking at my face" he readies the needle in its position.

"Why are you wearing jeans at home?" You ask distracting yourself from the big ass needle near your ear.

"Gotta be ready to move whenever needed, and besides I see how you look at my ass while wearing it" you see him wink in your peripheral vision. You roll your eyes at the comment, if you weren't so nervous you would've quipped back.

"Now, inhale" Hobie instructs and you follow. He pushes the needle in carefully, you grimace from the pressure. You feel him quickly put on a new stud earring to replace the needle. "Exhale" he finally says.

You let out a puff of air, you finally feel the throbbing pain from your ear. He grabs some cotton balls and cleans you up. Your eyes water from the pain. A lone tear slides down your cheeks. He crouches down to level with you.

"You did good, definitely better than Ned" he rubs your arms to comfort you. You laugh at his comment.

"Here, look" Hobie brings a hand mirror in front of you. He bites his lip in anticipation of your reaction.

You turn to the side to see it properly, you gasp at the simple red stud earring, the same shade of red as his Spider-Man suit. The gem gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

"Hobie" you say softly, heart eyes staring at him.

"Bought it at a small piercing place, while doing my patrol 'round the city. For the record I didn't steal it, I would never do that to a small business" Hobie explains. "Saw it, reminded me of you, so I got it, could only afford one though" he rambles on.

You grab his face with a little force that makes your lips crash with each other, you cringe internally, but he smiles at your eagerness.

You kiss him properly this time. Hobie holds the back of your head, carefully avoiding your newly pierced ear, the kiss full of love and affection for each other. Hobie pulls away for a second to look at your kiss-bitten lips, he gives your lips a good peck before fully pulling away.

"I love it, and I love you" You cradle his face with both hands, Hobie lays his forehead on yours, his way of saying it back, as he holds your elbows, he moves his thumb in a circular pattern against your skin.

"Still hurts like a bitch though" You sniffle from the tears of pain mixed with joy.

Hobie laughs "I'll take care of it, and you" He cradles the side of your neck and kisses you softly.

The afternoon sun mixed with the pattern on your frosted windows bathes your figures in heavenly light. You both look at each other savoring the moment.

A/n: I have no idea how to pierce ears, I'm only basing this on my own experience lol. Hope you enjoyed it! Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #atsv fanfiction #established relationship #hobie brown #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #x reader #spider punk x gn! reader #tw needles #tw piercings #fanfic

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glitch-karma · 1 year

Note

Hey!

So, I've heard that requests are open again, and I really like your writing, so I'd like to request somwthing with Chuuya and a reader who just really likes his hat, and often steals it and has similliar fashion taste...yeah, just some fluff with Chuuya and his hat if that makes sense.

Have a nice day, take care!

(Always nice to see you on my page Why <3)

✧Hc's + a one shot cause y'all know how much I love this man

✧Cw's: Tooth rotting fluff ♡

✧Includes: GN! Reader, Established relationship, Pet names, Play fighting, Lots of my own hc's, Chuuya being a cutie and taking my heart once more

✧I listened to Boy Toy by Ricky Montgomery over and over while writing this and omg I just AH

At first he just, did not understand???

Like yes it's important to him but why you going crazy over this hat?

Whenever you'd steal it he'd chase you around wherever trying to get it back, using his ability to throw softer objects at you

One day you showed up to work with an outfit that he actually had in his closet and it drove him crazy

When he asked if you took it and figured out you actually just threw it on from your own wardrobe he fell harder for you

Chuuya loves fashion and the fact you were also so great at styling clothes actually made him a little smitten

When you two started going out on dates it just got better

You two coordinated clothes and always were the prettiest mother fuckers where ever you went

Omg please take him dancing.

Both of you just get nice and dressed up and go, even if you don't know how to dance just TAKE THIS MAN!!

Not only will he love it, he'll love teaching you and watching you dance with him

He now lets you take his hat on occasion, but play fights to get it back are a must

I've always loved the hc of Chuuya liking play fighting 🥹

After a long day of work, you found yourself lazily sprawled out on the floor with takeout in your hand as Chuuya laid on the couch, flipping through channels trying to find anything interesting on TV. The exhaustion of the day had settled in, making your limbs feel like lead.

You sighed as you set down your food, peeking up at him as he had a bite half out of his mouth as he focused on the remote. The soft glow of the television cast a warm ambiance over the room.

"Chu, I already finished eating while you searched for a movie," you said with a hint of playfulness in your voice.

He snickered at that as he glanced down at you. "Just be patient, Doll, I'll find somethin'."

You hummed as you looked back at the TV, and by now, he was scanning through romance movies. Although he'd never admit it to anyone else, he secretly loved them.

Only after a few more seconds did the genius idea pop into your head. You know what you haven't done in a while?

You stood up innocently, going to walk into the kitchen. You then sneakily walked behind the couch, trying to contain your excitement.

"Chu?" you began, and he responded with a nonchalant "Yea."

In one smooth motion, you snatched the hat off his head, laughing as you ducked down and rolled away from the couch before staring at him with a mischievous grin.

He blinked a few times before tossing the remote to the side, a playful smirk now on his face as he brushed his hair out of his face.

"You really wanna do this?" he teased, his tone filled with anticipation.

"Do what exactly~?" you replied with a playful tone.

You then flipped the hat in your hand before tossing it on your head. Pulling the top slightly over your face, you giggled. "Oh, do you mean this ol' thing?"

"Y/n," Chuuya cooed playfully as he stood up, his work clothes messy as he grabbed a pillow from the couch. "Chuuyaaaa."

With one quick motion, he threw the pillow, causing you to squeal as you ran away. He immediately gave chase, running after you as you dodged his attempts to grab you. The game of cat and mouse led you from the living room to the kitchen, into the laundry room, and then slipping back out and running back to the living room again.

Chuuya chuckled as he quickly grabbed another pillow and threw it, successfully hitting your feet and knocking you onto the couch. You screamed playfully as he jumped on top of you.

"Come on now, love! Give in!" he teased.

"Never!" you replied with determination.

You two wrestled back and forth on the couch for a few seconds, laughing and teasing each other until the two of you grew tired from chasing and running. You gracefully placed his hat back on him crooked as you smiled up at him.

"You're lucky I'm worn out," you admitted, your playful demeanor still evident.

He chuckled at you, looking down with such adoration in his eyes. He then leaned down and gently kissed your forehead. "Let's just rewatch 'The Princess Bride' again."

"Anything you want, lover boy," you teased as you leaned up and kissed his nose lightly. The evening had transformed from a mundane night to a playful and affectionate memory the two of you would cherish.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya x reader #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x y/n #Chuuya makes me all fluffy inside #I love him sm its kinda crazy #glitchs✧works

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dizzyjaden · 6 months

Text

Oh, to be loved by an artist... ✧˚ · .

Albedo x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: Your bf Albedo makes you pose for his painting then u cuddle <3

♤ Warnings: JUST PURE FLUFF !

♤ A/N: In celebration of this man finally getting a rerun in version 4.5

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

In the warm firelit glow of the room, dimly emphasized with orange hues by the setting sun peering in through the windows, Albedo's eyes graze over every inch of your body fervently, he sits stationed behind an easel and canvas where he is painting you. Sketching for him is a hobby that came about from his line of work. It is more often than not that sketching things he frequently studies or needs to understand better benefits his experiments. Painting, however...

Painting is more of a love language.

Albedo sketches whatever interests him, it does not take a long time to do, and it requires little material and effort. With painting, one must really stress the details to bring everything together. He paints things out of appreciation for them. To really see every feature and memorize it all.

Ever since the two of you started dating, the only thing occupying his thoughts is you. Anytime he attempts to pass the time with sketching, you're the first subject matter to advance in his mind. It only makes sense to dedicate hours to an entire full-length portrait of you. You are important to him after all.

The pose he asked you to take is candid and simple, nothing dramatic. However, you had begun to appear restless with frequent unintentional twitches across your figure. He smiles sympathetically.

"Try to focus on your breathing. It will make it easier to hold still."

A slow exhale passes through your lips. Truthfully, remaining motionless for hours is more difficult than you assumed, but you couldn't grow tired of this position you are in. Your lover is not a very affectionate person, at least not physically. He of course never turns you away when you are the one to initiate, but he rarely does so himself. You've realized over time that it isn't because he loves you any less than you love him, but the way Albedo prefers to show his affection is simply exactly what he is doing now. Penetrating through your skin with his gaze, his lips slightly parted and his eyebrows furrowed while he ingests each little characteristic on your body that has built up and brought him you.

"I'm impressed by you, my muse." He teases. "Most people struggle to maintain such a striking demeanor throughout the entirety of the session. I hope you do not mind me taking my time."

"Striking? What do you mean by that?" You hum curiously. He sighs as he struggles to find words for it.

"Some people just look... Posed." He attempts. "But you are naturally scenic... Though perhaps I'm biased. You could do anything and I'd find it devastatingly attractive."

You smile playfully and roll your eyes, realizing he has not actually touched the canvas in a moment.

"Not to rush you, but yes to rush you, I'd like to breathe soon."

Albedo nods.

"I am finished."

Your eyes widen.

"Oh, really?" You prompt, subtly asking for confirmation that you are allowed to move.

He smiles.

"I have been finished for some time. I just wanted an excuse to stare at you a while longer."

You give him an annoyed scoff as a response and immediately stretch your limbs out. The painting had to have taken at least six hours. You saunter over to where he is seated and allow yourself to practically fall into his lap. He gives your forehead a quick kiss as you nestle your head against his shoulder to observe his work on the easel.

"I think it turned out rather well." He states in satisfaction. "Though, I'm not sure the most talented artist alive could do you justice."

You are blown away by how casual he is about what he just put on that blank board you're staring at with your jaw on the ground. It's you, absolutely you. Terrifyingly realistic yet still captured in the most flattering way imaginable.

"It's... Incredible..." You mutter.

"It's a painting." Albedo sighs. "To be honest, I did like the idea of having something for me to look at when you are not around, but at the end of the day, it's still just a painting."

Once again, you're blown away by his indifference as he wraps his arms around you.

"A really good painting." You affirm. "It's very... Good-"

"You are so warm..." He murmurs quietly, seeming to have already moved on. You sigh.

Sometimes it seems Albedo does not give himself the appreciation he deserves, if you squint you'll notice that he doesn't think of himself highly in any regard. Despite his alchemical advancements, he still believes himself to be average at best when it comes to intelligence. Despite his borderline inhuman artistic skills, he does not think his work is anything of note. It makes you sad.

You don't want to bring this up now and potentially spoil the moment, though. You'll get on his case about not knowing how amazing he is later. Albedo is always busy, he is always running back and forth to get something done, but now he is quiet and still as he brushes a hand through your hair.

"Are you tired?" You ask him. He nods slightly.

"It will be dark soon..." Albedo yawned. "I'd prefer not to waste what little day is left by going to sleep early."

Thankfully you speak Albedo, so you know when he says something like that he fully intends to stay up very late, working. You yank away from him to glare in irritation, he laughs.

"I will not stay up all night, love. Promise." He smiles. You hate how adorable his smile is, you're trying to be mad at him.

"If you don't sleep, it will negatively impact my own sleep schedule." You say in an assertive tone of voice. "I cannot sleep if you aren't next to me."

Albedo doesn't seem to fully believe this since you've fallen asleep on your own nearly every day of your life until the two of you moved in together. Nevertheless, he contemplates.

"I will come lay next to you until you fall asleep-"

"No." You cut him off. "Let's go to bed."

He sighs in defeat and picks you up as he stands from the chair.

"Fine, fine." He mumbles, rolling his eyes at your victorious expression. He carries you to bed and collapses beside you instantly. His sluggish behavior warrants a giggle from you.

"I suppose today was longer than I anticipated." He admits, pulling the blankets over the both of you. "Although, I am glad we got to spend some time together towards the end of it."

You shuffle closer to him which brings him to immediately wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest with a sigh.

"Are you comfortable enough?" He asks. Something about Albedo is that he never stops fussing over you, he'll probably ask you the same question another twelve times before falling asleep.

"Yes." You respond simply, reaching your hands up to play with his hair. This is the best technique when it comes to shutting Albedo up. His eyes quickly flutter shut at the sensation and you smile.

"Love you Bedo." You profess. His grip around you tightens slightly at your words.

"Love you too..."

#genshin albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin men #albedo x you #fluff

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moanz111 · 1 year

Text

daisy. - kang yeosang

pairing ❀ poet! yeosang x gn! florist! reader

genre ❀ fluff, strangers to lovers, one shot

synopsis ❀ for you, flowers are the doors to people's souls. so when a mysterious man with a strange obsession with daisies comes into your flower shop on your opening day, you can't help but feel drawn to him.

w.c. ❀ 4.3 k

warnings ❀ kissing, drinking, so so much fluff, english is not my native language, so there can be mistakes

credits for all the used graphics belong to their rightful owners!

song recs ❀ daisy. - wave to earth; i'm in love - colde

The sweet aroma of flowers filled your senses as you spun around in your desk chair, taking in the atmosphere. You were sure there wasn’t a day in your life you’d felt happier. Maybe you had exaggerated a bit when you said that to your friend Wooyoung this morning during one of your usual face time sessions, but you knew there was a pinch of truth.

Last week that would’ve been a distant silly childhood dream, but luck was on your side. You had tried your best, day and night, to make this a reality, and as usual - hard work had paid off. Younger you would’ve freaked out if they could see you now - sitting behind the counter of your own flower shop.

You had always loved flowers - the way each type had its distinguishable scent, vibrant colours, unique forms, and, above all - their meaning. What had been just a quick exploration of your grandmother’s garden when you were ten turned out to be the reason for your obsession.

“Yellow tulips are my favourite,” the older woman had said, swiping away the sweat formed under the brim of her broad straw hat as you walked around her most prized possession. You asked her curiously why, crouched down to take in their sweet fragrance. “Their meaning reminds me of you - like them, you’re my little sunshine and happiness.”

The memory filled your heart with nostalgia. You missed those times a lot, but you knew your grandmother was your number one supporter ever since you had told her about your wish to become a florist. She was the first to know about the shop too.

Flowers were fascinating to you, even though most people around you didn’t understand what was so special about them. All that didn’t matter to you. You finally had your space to cherish them as much as you wanted.

Today was the opening of your shop, and you couldn’t wait to welcome your first client. Unable to stay still, you got up and started picking up some flowers from the buckets around you - might as well fill your time doing something productive. Your first bouquet for the day was going to be special - a pink and yellow tulip one.

As you arranged the freshly cut flowers on the counter, humming along to the song playing on the radio next to you, you couldn’t help but smile for probably the hundredth time since you woke up. Yellow tulips for cheerfulness, pink - for good wishes and friendships. Too busy repeating their meaning in your mind, you didn’t notice the ringing of the small bell, placed at the entrance, signaling that someone had entered the store.

“Excuse me, are you open?” The raspy voice of the newcomer startled you, and you dropped your scissors on the floor, looking up. You were almost blinded. The man standing at the doorframe was, to say the least, breathtaking. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and he seemed as if he was stifling a yawn. You took notice of his clothes too - he was wearing a white shirt, tugged in black, elegant pants, and you wondered what kind of job he had.

“Oh, yes,” you said after clearing your throat with a quiet cough. “Please, welcome.”

“Are you busy? I can come later,” the man responded, pointing to the almost-finished bouquet before you as he approached you. Now up close, you were sure - he was gorgeous. Feeling flustered under his studying sleepy gaze, you bent down to pick up the fallen scissors.

“Oh, no, I’m just passing the time,” you explained as you got up. You saw him holding a hardcover book, which he placed on the counter, smiling gently. The cover had you staring at it in awe - it depicted a small green field filled with daisies, but from your angle, you couldn’t read the title or the author’s name.

“Congratulations on opening. I’m your neighbour, so to speak,” he joked, stretching out his right hand. “Yeosang, nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm, and his grip was firm when you shook it, introducing yourself. “Let me guess…”

Yeosang raised his eyebrows with a grin, waiting for your next words. “You’re the bookstore’s owner.”

“How did you know?” You laughed at his genuine surprise and shrugged, “Guess I was born with psychic abilities.”

“I should’ve hidden the book,” Yeosang murmured, frowning. “Yes, but I’m also an author.”

He picked up the book from the counter and handed it to you. You noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. This time you saw the cover properly - Illusion. A collection of poetry by Kang Yeosang. You ran your fingers through the title, admiring the beautifully illustrated daisies. Yeosang’s low chuckle made you look up at his face again, feeling a little embarrassed. “You like the flowers, don’t you?”

“Caught in the act,” you said, grinning when he threw his head back and laughed louder this time. “It’s beautiful. I’ll definitely read it.”

“I hope you like it. Do tell me which one is your favourite,” Yeosang answered, taking a business card from his pocket and handing it to you. There were even more daisies at the back of it. Sensing your amusement, he quickly explained, “Daisies are my favourite. Don’t judge me too much.”

“I never judge based on flower tastes,” you exclaimed, shaking your head.

“I feel like you just lied to me,” Yeosang’s mischievous tone made you smile again. “Take this as an official invitation to my book premiere tomorrow. The book isn’t out yet, so don’t give any spoilers.”

“Yeah,” you teased. “I’ll just post a few screenshots. Nothing more.”

“I might have to take it back, be careful,” he tilted his head to the right, his expression serious. Why was your heart fluttering? “Actually, I came to buy some flowers. So what would you say are the perfect flowers for the start of the week?”

His question caught you off guard, but your brain was already searching for the answer. Looking around the buckets filled with flowers behind him, you murmured more to yourself than speaking directly to him, “Daffodils for new beginnings, chrysanthemums for optimism and joy…”

“You sure know a lot about it, huh,” Yeosang’s deep voice shifted your focus back on him, and you felt heat rush into your cheeks. “Then I’d take seven daffodils, please.”

Trying to contain your excitement from having your first customer, you made a simple composition, adding a few branches of baby’s breath around the white daffodils and tying them with a simple yellow ribbon. While you were working, you felt Yeosang’s intense stare still on you, making your hands tremble a little. “Here you are.”

The man smiled warmly as you handed him the small bouquet. “Have a nice day, Y/N. I’ll be waiting for you.”

As you watched him turn and wave at you one last time from the door before he left, you let out a sigh.

Yes, this was the best day of your life.

“Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you,” your friend Wooyoung shouted while you were taking your third shot for the night, both of you sitting on the soft carpet in your living room in your pajamas. You had invited him earlier to celebrate the shop’s opening, but you definitely hadn’t expected him to show up with a bag filled with soju bottles.

After Yeosang had left, the day was relatively quiet and uneventful. A few customers came in and left satisfied, and your parents visited you too. Your sales weren’t that great, but at least you did what you loved the most. And now you regretted sharing your encounter with the handsome poet with your best friend.

“Stop making things weird. He was just being nice,” you answered, your mind already envisioning Yeosang’s face as if he was standing right in front of you again. You would’ve lied if you said you didn’t like him and hadn’t thought about him around ten times today. Maybe even more. You even read some of his poems while waiting for customers and were left speechless. He had a beautiful way with words for which you envied him a bit - to manage to convey your emotions through a few lines so well was something you found awfully attractive.

“You always think that men “are just being nice” to you,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, pouring you and him another drink. At this rate, you had no idea how you were getting up for work tomorrow, but it was expected - nights with him were always like this.

You had known him all your life, with your moms being best friends since university. He was the person in your life who knew you the most and wanted the best for you. You were always grateful to have him close to you, but at the same time, you really wanted to smack him right now.

“You’re being annoying again,” you groaned and pulled playfully his pierced ear, to which he whined. “Stop playing a matchmaker.”

“Stop being so single,” Wooyoung teased you and emptied his glass, pointing at yours to do the same. You gladly took that shot. If the conversation kept going this way, you had to be intoxicated as much as possible. “And my judgment is never wrong.”

“After my disaster of a date with Yunho, you still have the guts to think that?”

Wooyoung loved setting you up with his friends, and you, honestly, had no idea why. Every single date went the same way - they took you to a nice restaurant, you had dinner, talked for a bit, and then they escorted you to your apartment, hoping to be invited in. You didn’t do it. And they didn’t call again either.

Wooyoung was always telling you you had too high standards, and you felt silly crushing on a man you saw for the first time today and knew nothing about.

“Hey, slight miscalculations happen. And I always pick out the hottest people for you,” Wooyoung stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “But seriously, step up your game. You can’t spend your whole life sniffing flowers.”

The pillow hit him right in the face, to your satisfaction.

You didn’t mind the flowers being your only company at all.

The following day was, to say the least, extremely nerve-wracking. Yeosang had come by to see you first thing in the morning and to remind you of his premiere. He didn’t stay for long, saying he still had a lot of things to prepare, and left after buying some roses of different colours to decorate his bookstore.

Little did he know, you’d spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what to wear, what to say, and after Wooyoung’s comments about Yeosang you couldn’t even imagine looking him in the eyes. There was no way you could’ve forgotten about tonight.

So after changing out of your working apron and putting on the outfit you’d picked out as the best in your closet, you headed over to Yeosang’s bookstore - Little Miracles, holding the bouquet of tulips you’d made the day before.

It suited his style, you concluded when you entered the small and cozy shop, filled with stacks of books everywhere. You took your time, walking around the shelves, occasionally picking up some books. You realised it was more of an antiquarian bookstore with many special editions of your favourite works, such you’d never seen before.

“You like something?” His deep voice startled you and sent a wave of shivers down your spine. You felt your heart skip a beat when you turned to look at Yeosang, standing on your left for who knows how long before you noticed him. Just like yesterday, he was dressed in formal attire,

but this time his hair was slicked back, exposing his forehead, with a few strands falling in front of his eyes. You knew you were staring, probably even gawking at him, but he looked so nice. “I mean the books.”

Feeling heat burning your cheeks, you looked away from his amused eyes. “I think I might want to live here.”

Yeosang grinned at you and pointed to the book you were holding - Dracula by Bram Stocker. You had read it when you were younger, and you couldn’t deny that it was the beginning of your vampire obsession phase. “You can take it as a gift. I appreciate that you came.”

“Oh, it looks too expensive.” And truly you were a bit afraid to not damage or stain the black and red hardcover with an ominous castle drawn in the middle. You couldn’t possibly accept this as a gift even though you thought you’d cry if you took it.

“Please,” Yeosang said hopefully, pushing the book to your chest. “Then keep it safe for me?”

The spark in his eyes was enough to convince you. “I guess I have to take it then…”

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it,” the man teased you, leaning with one hand on the bookshelf next to him. “You’re always welcome here. Come whenever you want to.”

“Thank you,” you blushed at his words even more, maintaining eye contact with him becoming too difficult. “Oh, these are for you. Congratulations.”

You handed him the bouquet, feeling the need to turn his attention away from you. Otherwise, you had no idea how you were going to survive the night. Yeosang thanked you and shifted his position, so now he stood much closer to you than before. “I’d love us to talk more, but I have to start the meet and greet soon. How about I treat you to dinner later?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, barely processing what was happening. “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

“Great,” he chuckled, checking his wristwatch with a sigh. You noticed his hands were slightly trembling.

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” you tried comforting him. “You have talent, and your poems are amazing.”

“So you’ve read them,” Yeosang shot you a wide smile. “I’m not letting you go anywhere before you tell me about this later.”

Feeling too flustered to answer, you nodded and followed behind him as Yeosang led you to the centre of the bookstore where he had placed some chairs, most of them occupied. You took a seat at the back, trying to calm down your racing heart.

If a flower could describe your feelings now, it would be a pink rose.

Happiness.

Yeosang was a smooth talker.

Even though you’d known him for only two days, you felt as if he had been there your whole life. After his signing session ended and he sent off the last bit of guests, he closed the bookstore and took you to your favourite part of the city, full of quiet and cozy restaurants where you could get to know each other uninterrupted.

You had a lot in common - you both liked matcha lattes and chocolate muffins, enjoyed riding your bikes, watching the sunset, and you both hated spicy food, loud places and queuing for a book at the bookshop on its release day.

Yeosang told you about his bookstore and how it had all started. Surprisingly, he had graduated as a film major but hadn’t made any progress in that field, so he decided to turn to his hobby - writing. That’s how almost four years ago he opened his shop and started collecting old and tattered books, trying to find them a new home. You loved the spark in his eyes when he told you his story and realised you felt the same way about flowers. All you wanted was for the people who bought them to continue appreciating them as much as you did.

You also noticed he was much shyer than you thought him to be, which you found endearing, and wondered how many more sides of him you were yet to uncover. His calm demeanor made you feel at home and safe with him, and you really didn’t want the night to end.

“So, tell me more about your daisies,” you began, taking a sip from your glass of wine. Yeosang let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Are you that curious?” He challenged you, and honestly, you weren’t sure if it was because of all the wine you had or him or both, but you had the urge to look away. The teasing glint in his gaze was too much for your poor soul, and you felt as if you were burning up every time you locked eyes.

“Well, you don’t see every day a grown-up man with a daisy obsession, so yeah,” you answered, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Yeosang looked confident in your eyes, but you could still see a slight redness creep up his neck.

“Well,” he started explaining, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “I guess they just remind me of my childhood. When I was younger, I used to live in the countryside with my family for a while. There was this huge field with daisies where my parents, older sister, and I went every weekend. They bring me comfort, and I like their meaning as well.”

You imagined little Yeosang running around a big green field, chasing after butterflies and picking up daisies. Your heart might have as well burst at this point. “That sounds so adorable.”

“You think so? The bees weren’t so adorable,” he arched his eyebrows, smirking, and took a sip from his glass. “So, tell me about your flowers then. A story for a story.”

“My grandma used to be a florist herself in the past, so ever since I was born, there were flowers everywhere around me,” you recall, thinking of all the times she’d let you watch her tend her garden and help her water the small buds, waiting for them to grow. “I love everything about them - even though some people say they are just temporary happiness. There’s beauty in the fleeting too.”

“Let’s drink to that then,” Yeosang grinned, raising his glass. You did the same and nodded to him to continue. “To all the flowers and all the happy memories they leave behind.”

Over the next few months, you fell into a comfortable daily routine. You opened your shop at 8 in the morning, picked out the freshest flowers from the daily delivery you ordered from a local garden, and spent the whole day arranging bouquets until 5 in the afternoon.

It fascinated you how people with different purposes, goals, and fates came to you to seek the comfort of flowers - some - for grief and loss, others - for first dates and confessions. You were always happy to help and introduce them to a deeper understanding of flowers.

The only variable in your life was Yeosang.

Your relationship remained painfully unlabeled.

Were you dating? Kind of. You went out a few days per week, and whenever you didn’t, you stayed in his bookstore after you’d finished working, sharing a couple of hours of comfortable silence with him. During these quiet moments, he wrote his poems or read to you while you sat curled up on the sofa in his small office, reading whatever book you found that day or just listening to his soothing voice.

Your mornings together were also something you loved. Yeosang, unlike you, was an early bird. His usual shift started at 10 a.m., but he came earlier so he could spend some extra time with you under the pretense he had nothing else to do. When you arrived at the shop, he was already sitting on the stairs in front of it, holding his daily gift, as called it, in his hands and shyly handed it to you. Usually, it consisted of a couple of daisies he’d picked up from the park next to his apartment building and a note wishing you a nice day or containing a short scribbled poem that always made you laugh.

And your days were truly nice. Except you couldn’t stop thinking about Yeosang even for a minute.

Today was no different, but this morning Yeosang seemed more nervous than usual. The sweat, glistening on his forehead, and his shaking hands as he handed you the daisies and a small piece of paper made you wonder what had him so worked up this early. He didn’t stay long, saying he had “some things to take care of” and left you alone, standing puzzled in the middle of your shop.

Once you opened the folded note, you found out why Yeosang was acting so strangely.

Please, come and meet me at a field of daisies and dreams.

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was probably beating in an inhumane rate, and you were smiling too widely as you walked to the location Yeosang had written on his morning note. It was past 7 p.m., and you could see the last vibrant colours of the fading sun light up the sky. The spring afternoon breeze caressed your face and swirled some cherry blossoms around you. You felt like you were a fairy tale character, surrounded by early-bloomed spring flowers and trees at your favourite park. It was close to your shop and one of the main reasons you chose that exact rental place. You loved going there after work, taking a long walk, and clearing up your thoughts whenever you felt the need to. You honestly didn’t expect Yeosang to remember this location since you’d told him about it a long time ago, yet he always found a way to surprise you.

There were a lot of people during this time of the day, so it was difficult spotting Yeosang in the sea of faces around you, but once you did - you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

No matter how many times you saw his face, you were always amazed. Now was no different - his bootcut jeans and blue t-shirt suited him perfectly, and his hair was hidden under a white beanie. He was holding a tote bag decorated with daisies in one hand as he waved at you with his free one.

“Hey,” Yeosang beamed at you, pulling you in for a hug when he came closer. Wrapping your hands around him, you could smell the woody scent of his perfume and felt the softness of his dark locks at the nape of his neck under your fingertips. “You look beautiful.”

This date was going to be the end of you, for sure.

The cool night wind, the shimmering of the street lamps, and the calm breathing of Yeosang lying in your lap made you feel at peace. The sun was long gone under the horizon, and you had no idea how much time had passed since he pulled you to sit down on a soft blanket and took out of his bag probably the sweetest strawberries you’d ever eaten. Yeosang had definitely come prepared for this spontaneous picnic date.

Now you ran your fingers mindlessly through his silky hair as he told you a story about some customer he had today. The position you were in felt domestic and comfortable as if you’d done this thousands of times before. You found it hard to concentrate on his voice when Yeosang started drawing random shapes on your thighs and then had the audacity to ask you about your day. If your head hadn’t been spinning from the overwhelming feeling of him, you would’ve probably answered him.

“Hey,” he whispered, his fingertips brushing your cheeks, trying to get your attention as he got up from your lap. The loss of his touch made you miss his warmth. “You’re spacing out.”

“You’re very distracting.” Unable to look at him or form any other coherent answer, you shifted your gaze to the small daisies growing on your right amongst the grass. You reached out your hand to touch them and felt the grass around them tickle your palm.

“Now who’s obsessed with daisies, huh,” said Yeosang, amused, wrapping his fingers around your chin to turn your face to him. For a split second, you stopped hearing the world around you - the children’s laughter, the faded sound of music, coming from somewhere around you, all became muted under the rhythm of your heartbeat, ringing in your ears. It was just you and his soft gaze, studying your face, and Yeosang, rubbing his thumb across your chin. You saw his eyes wander downwards to your lips before he asked in a hushed voice, “Can I kiss you?”

Seconds after your nod, you felt Yeosang’s warm lips on yours. At first, his kiss was light and hesitant, and his movements- were slow and deliberate. You reached up to hold on to his t-shirt as he cupped your face with his big hands. The coldness of his palms made you shiver. Where you touched, you felt as if electricity was running through your body.

Before you knew it, Yeosang deepened the kiss, making you gasp for breath. Your shaky hands grabbed his shoulders for support while his moved to your thighs. It was too much. His lips left yours only to feel them on your neck, leaving shy kisses along your jawline and then continuing downwards. His lips stopped right above the daisy charm hanging from your silver necklace, which he had gifted you. The pink blush on Yeosang’s cheeks and the warmth and love you saw in his dark eyes were more than enough to make your heart swell with adoration.

Yeosang reached for a small, freshly bloomed daisy beside him and pulled it from the ground. Placing it behind your ear, he caressed your cheek gently. “Do you know what’s the meaning of daisies?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, sounding offended. At this point, he had to know you were a walking flower encyclopedia. “New beginnings, purity, and faith.”

“That’s all?” Yeosang pressed, leaning in closer to your face again. The proximity had your head spinning. “I’ve heard of another one too.”

“And what is it?” You were feeling out of breath, his lips only centimeters away from yours.

“True love.”

These were his only words before Yeosang captured your lips in another kiss under the night sky and the stars shimmering above you.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

Daisies, you decided, were your favourite flowers.

note ❀ happy (late) birthday to yeosang! ♡

after a short delay, i finally had time to finish daisy so thank you everyone for waiting! i hope you enjoyed reading it! i'm still not very confident in writing stuff like that so feedback is appreciated! please lmk what you thought of this story! ♡

also, how are you feeling about the comeback? so far i love it so much 😭

daisy., © moanz111

please do not modify, copy, repost, or translate.

#❀daisy. - moanz111 #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you #yeosang fluff #ateez fluff #ateez fic #yeosang imagines

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moonlightspencie · 1 year

Text

Speak Now

Description: You’re not usually the type of girl (gn) to barge in on a white-veil occasion… but the officiant did say ‘speak now’.

Pairing: Ted Lasso x gn!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

(originally posted on tumblr. then posted on ao3 on 6/13/22. now posted back on tumblr because taylor swift personally attacked me with the speak now tv announcement)

You walked into the pub to get out of the cold, and to drown away any lingering hurt about the event hanging over your head.

It was tomorrow already.

You hadn’t expected all of the planning to be finished so soon, and certainly didn’t expect such a fast engagement. Part of you wondered if he even meant it when he proposed.

It all seemed… Wrong. That was what you told Beard as you sat at the table with him that night.

“If he meant it?” He asked incredulously.

You nodded. “I mean, think about it, in the whole time you’ve known him when has he ever done anything like this? With the exception of dragging us to England, that is.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, taking a drink. “Maybe he just fell quick.”

You sat back, drinking silently for a few moments while you mulled everything over. Ted could be crazy, but going to marry someone he hardly knew was on a different level. You knew it, you knew that deep down Beard had to know it.

“Maybe I’m just being pessimistic because I wasn’t invited, but it all seems wrong to me,” you finally said with a shrug.

Beard furrowed his brow. “Not invited?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Ted invited you.”

“No, he didn’t.”

He raised a brow. “He told me he did. Why do you think he’s been talking about it around you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I just assumed it was only going to be a couple close friends.”

He dropped his shoulders, glaring at you.

“You know you’re one of his closest friends.”

“Then why am I not invited?” You challenged. “See, this is what I’m talking about. I don’t get why he’s doing this at all.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t a deeper issue for you?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe the fact that you’re just about in love with the man,” Mae cut in, picking up your empty mugs. You looked at her with wide eyes. “You’re not hard to read, love.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at her demeanor, even if you wanted to reject that statement with everything in you.

“You’re a real treat Mae, but in this case you need to mind yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “I’ll let that one slide for now.”

“You’re an angel, friend.”

She hummed, walking away and leaving you to the skeptical gaze of coach Beard. You looked back at him, giving him a shrug.

“Nothing will make this make sense to me.”

“Uh huh.”

He got up to leave several minutes later, leaving you to wander to a barstool to engage in some more conversation with Mae.

“You know, if it bugs you all that much, you could just sneak in and break it up,” she said with a wink.

“I am not the type of person to go barging into a wedding uninvited,” you replied with a laugh, “But, I do appreciate the suggestion.”

“They always ask for objections, and you seem to have quite a few,” she sang.

You laughed again. “I don’t know if that’d be the most appropriate response.”

She sighed. “Can I tell you something I think might help all of this?”

“Of course,” you said, leaning against the bar-top as you finished your drink.

“As obvious as it is that you’ve got some feelings hidden away for our Ted, I’ve gotta say it surprises me you haven’t seen the way he looks at you.”

“Alright, are we sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

You chuckled, shaking your head at her. She smiled.

“Only one, but don’t tell anyone.”

“You’re my best friend here, Mae, who am I gonna tell?”

She laughed. “That’s my girl. But seriously, I meant what I said. Give it a thought, yeah?”

“I think it’s time for me to head out,” you said after a beat. “It’s been a pleasure as always.”

“You too, love,” she said with a smile as she waved you off.

You went home, laying in your bed and trying and failing not to think about what she’d said. There was really no point in trying to hide your feelings with how easily she’d already read you, but you couldn’t help the thought of Ted that lingered in your head.

There was no way he’d ever had a second thought about you as anything more than a friend. Right?

Ted laid awake that night, trying to think about the fact that he was supposed to be married the next day, but instead had a head filled with you.

Beard had called him a few hours prior to ask about why you hadn’t been invited. Much to Ted’s confusion, as he had certainly put your name on the invite list. Everything had moved very quickly, but that shouldn’t have effected whether or not your invite got to you.

But now, hearing you’d never gotten one, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional.

You never seemed to notice, but others had pointed out in the past that he could never keep his eyes off of you if you were in the same room. If it was that easy for some folks to pick up, realization dawned on him that it might have been a tell to his soon-to-be wife. But would she have really barred such a good friend of his from their wedding?

She had her whole family coming, surely she wouldn’t object to Ted having more than a couple of his own. He wondered if anyone else had been uninvited, or if it was just you. If all else failed, Henry and his mother would be there, but he wanted his friends to be there to celebrate.

He tossed and turned the rest of the night, waking only after a few hours of sleep.

You got up the next morning, dreading the day. You wondered what Ted was doing as he prepared for his big day, and wondered who else was going to be there without you.

Against your better judgement, you sent him a text.

- ‘hey, just wanted to congratulate you on your big day. i hope you have a great time :)’

You hit send, setting your phone on your nightstand. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to get your mind onto any other subject. Though, it wasn’t long before you heard your phone vibrate with the indication of a message.

- ‘Thank you! You’re coming, right?’

You read the message, and read it again. Was this some weird power play?

- ‘gosh, i’m sorry, i’m not. i never got an invite, i didn’t want to intrude’

It was only a second before a few new messages popped up.

- ‘Intrude?! It wouldn’t be the same without ya!’

- ‘I promise I put you on the list. Seems it didn’t get to you’

Bitterness crept in, a message coming from your brain and to his phone before you could check in with your logical side.

- ‘seems more like i was uninvited by your lovely bride-to-be lol. that’s okay, i’m alright cheering you on from home’

He received your message with wide eyes, his suspicions and yours matching up.

- ‘I’d still really like to see you there, don’t think I can get through without you. I’ll send you a link to the address’

He sent the message along with the map link to the location of the ceremony. You didn’t send another message, mulling over the fact that someone certainly didn’t want you there. You texted Rebecca, asking if you could tag along with her that day if she was going.

You got ready quickly, hands shaking as you pulled on your shoes and grabbed your bag. Rebecca showed up later that day, and you took a car to the ceremony together.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet, love,” she said as you arrived at the destination.

“I’m thinking.”

“Uh oh,” she said, though amusement shone in her eyes. “Does that mean we get any entertainment today?”

You turned the situation over and over again in your head, losing yourself in the fantasy of standing up and interrupting the ceremony. After all, even if he thought you were insane, objecting would put off the wedding for the day. At minimum, they wouldn’t be able to marry legally that day.

You knew that was a petty thought, but after a certain point you didn’t care.

Katherine had never seemed to like you no matter how kind you were to her. You’d gone out of your way to provide her a certain level of comfort any time you’d interacted, and she always brushed it off. She had made her way to Keeley’s bad side within an hour because of it all, and that was certainly a feat to accomplish.

Though, as you attempted to converse with certain members of her family, you understood why she was the way she was: they all acted the same way. Stuck up.

You let out a hard sigh as you sat with Rebecca to wait for the ceremony to begin. She watched you, trying to decipher what was going on in your head.

“You know, you being all quiet like this worries me a little,” she sang quietly.

You chuckled. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Partially,” you said with a smile.

She laughed, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I wish Keeley and Roy could have made it. I think they might’ve liked seeing you do what you’re about to.”

“And what am I about to do?” You asked, eyes wide and a smile on your face.

“I can’t say for sure, but it looks like you don’t want this to happen as much as half the people here,” she whispered.

“Half is an overstatement.”

“There’s enough, I think. We’re all just too afraid to say anything.”

You paused, considering what she said. Did that many people really have concern about everything? If so, you certainly felt a stronger surge of confidence. Though, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not quite yet.

You waited for the ceremony to start with palms that were becoming increasingly clammy and a heart that beat faster and faster. Especially as Ted came out with the officiant. He smiled at a few guests as he came out, though he didn’t seem to notice you.

Something was on his mind.

As he walked down, he wanted so badly to search for you, but he knew he might have trouble saying ‘I do’ if he knew you were there watching him.

He knew he was probably better off pretending like they were all alone up there rather than in front of a crowd of people.

He also knew he was becoming less and less sure about what he was doing as the day went on.

Music started, the bridesmaids and groomsmen coming down. You only recognized Beard, the rest supplemented by Katherine’s family.

As each person came down, you watched Ted. Part of you hurt to see him there, but part of you found an unfortunate excitement with the fact that he didn’t look overly excited. Maybe you could do this.

You could do this.

She came down next, though you kept your eyes on Ted through it all.

He watched her float down the aisle, and much to his dismay, he didn’t feel the joy he thought he might.

The ceremony officially began, and you watched and waited with baited breath. All of the formalities began, and time seemed to slow. Your heart beat harder and harder, knowing it was coming soon.

Then, the officiant said it.

Silence fell over the room, and you waited for what felt like forever.

But then, you knew it was your last chance and time was winding down.

You stood, hands shaking, as you stared at Ted. He looked back at you, as did everyone else in the room, all of them wearing looks of pure horror on their faces.

You opened your mouth to speak, tongue going dry for a moment. Rebecca reached up, giving your hand one last squeeze of reassurance that gave you the final surge of confidence that you needed.

“I’m not the kind of person who does this. Crashing a wedding, and all,” you said with a light laugh, only Beard joining in on the laughter quietly. At least he covered his with a cough. “But, Ted, I really don’t think you’re the type of guy to marry the wrong person.”

“Excuse me?” Katherine cut in, looking between the two of you.

When Ted kept his eyes on you, she scoffed, arms crossing. You didn’t pay any mind, keeping your gaze on him.

“I— Don’t say yes. Don’t do this, Ted,” you said, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “Just hear me out, think about it, you know?”

“What are you even doing?” Katherine asked again, and this time you glanced at her.

You gestured at the officiant.

“He said ‘Speak now’.”

A few laughs spread throughout the room at that, mostly from teammates from Richmond, but laughs nonetheless.

Ted still kept his eyes on you. “I— I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” you offered.

He watched with wide eyes for another moment, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Meet you at the back door when I change?”

A wave of relief and adrenaline ran through you at that, a wide smile on your face suddenly. You nodded quickly.

He ran down the aisle, and you grabbed your bag, giving a quick kiss on the cheek to Rebecca.

“Work things out with his family for us, yeah?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure I have a fun day planned for them tomorrow.”

“You’re my favorite, you know that?”

“I know,” she said with a smile. “Go get him, love.”

You hustled out of the building, going to find the back door. Ted came through as you reached it, smiling when he saw you there, standing in just his button up and dress pants.

He wrapped you in a tight hug when you met, letting out a breath.

“I’m so glad you were around to stop all that.”

“Really?”

He pulled back, looking at you. “Of course. I’m running away from a wedding with you, do you really think my heart was in all that, Ben Platt?”

“I’m so glad I could pull you away from it all for you to make that horrible joke,” you said with a laugh.

He laughed back, then quieted, looking at you in the eyes.

“How did you know?” He asked quietly.

“Mae is very observant,” you whispered with a smirk.

“Bless that woman.”

You giggled, though got cut short when he pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back, butterflies erupting in your stomach after waiting forever for that moment. You separated a minute later, and he took your hand in his.

“What do you say we run away together now?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso x y/n #taylor swift #speak now #songfic #i’m also in shambles bc i’m literally watching the last 5 min of mockingjay part 2 #anyways #i still haven’t finished season 3 in the slightest either #whoops #gender neutral reader

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starlostseungmin · 2 years

Text

一 oh yes darling, hjs.

pairing — idol!han x gn!reader

genre — domestic fluff

warnings — mentions of sex but not implied, kissing, not proofread.

word count — 988

notes — this is just for an experiment, might delete later if it doesn't show on the tags. i'm so upset right now.

“I’m so exhausted darling, are you sure, you don’t want to cuddle with me?” Jisung asked, loosening his tie while you flip a page on the book you were reading, feeling the comfortable mattress and the new sheets from the laundry. It was a good Friday night which means it was your boyfriend’s day off the next day. He’s been working overtime during the week and badly wanted to rest, with the help of your cuddles, of course一but he came a little late today when he promised he will cook dinner for the both of you.

“No,” You said, flipping another page of the book leaving the poor man pouting his lips. He knows this game, this is one of those nights when you’re trying to play hard to get as a joke to make him act all cute and beg but your boyfriend knows you too damn well.

“Are you upset?” He said, taking off his white polo after the blazer. You tried you remain calm and fix your attention on the book you were reading. Jisung loves your reaction every time you see his exposed skin or the way he takes his clothes off in front of you. Nevertheless, it makes you crazy and he knows it. The change of the atmosphere caught you off guard, you didn’t even get to say anything before he was completely topless. Even the book is not helping and the words seem to be scrambled and hard to read.

“I’m not,” You said.

“Then why won’t you cuddle me?” He pouted.

“You were late,” You answered as he chuckled in return.

“So you’re upset with me,” Jisung smiled but you just rolled your eyes in response. “Come on, how do I make it up to you?” He asked, sitting on the empty space beside you, trying to get your damn attention away from the book. Your boyfriend loves to tease, he can manage to make you give in when he starts to do something that will make you sore in the morning. But it’s not that easy, because sometimes, you weren’t just up for it. Your boyfriend is not the type to be patient, but when it comes to you, he would always understand. Yet you would also feel bad about it when he sighs and leaves in disappointment after you refused. No arguments were made because he won’t force you if you don’t want it.

You sensed his face getting closer to yours, attempting for a kiss as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His hot breath gave you the chills down to your spine making the book fall on the mattress. Jisung started rubbing the tip of his nose on your cheek which made you giggle in response while attempting to break free from the tight hug. You knew he wouldn't be able to finish his night routine if you let him be like this for a while.

“Go wash up first, I’ll cuddle you alright?” You smiled, cupping his cheeks before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Fine, don’t forget the smooches,” He smirked, kissing the tip of your nose before dashing towards the bathroom. A smile formed on your face as you fixed your hair, and placed the book back on your side table. Your boyfriend has been working too hard that you are worried if he is getting enough rest. Being part of a famous boy group in the whole industry gives him a tight schedule where it’s rare to spend some time with his beloved. And the tour一the tour is right along the corner.

A sigh escaped your lips as you waited for him. He deserves all the cuddles he could get from you anyway. The love he gives and the time management he has when it comes to you are very endearing. You knew there are a lot of reasons to love him, and being loved by him is already a huge thing to earn.

You heard the bathroom door open and shut as his footsteps are getting closer to the bed. His hair is soaking wet and his body was enveloped in a white robe, you prepared for him. The dryer started doing its job as Jisung watched himself in front of the mirror while you wait. Watching him like that made you think you are the luckiest person on earth to have him. He’s perfect wherever you look at him, he denies them sometimes but his narcissistic side is not debatable.

“I will melt if you keep staring at me like that,” He said as you scoffed in response.

“I was just waiting,” You answered as he ruffled his disheveled hair, taking his way back to your shared bed.

“There’s something I wanted to say,” He said, halting a foot away from the mattress.

“Shoot,” You said.

“Why don’t we spice things up for tonight and stay in all day tomorrow huh?” He said, with a smirk on his lips while wiggling his brows. You could feel the heat rising on your cheeks and Jisung could see how they turned pink because of the blood rush. It’s been a while since the last time you did it一thanks to his occupied schedule, he’s been missing a lot with you.

“Honey, no,” You said.

“Oh, yes darling,” He said when he attempted to hover over you but you were too quick to move, making him fall to his face on the pillows. “Oh come on,” He whined in response as he laid on his back, kicking his legs on the sheets like a little kid, making you laugh.

“You’re so cute,” You said, kissing his cheek. “I was just kidding you know? Come here,”

“I won’t go easy on you, darling,” Of course, Jisung is a sucker for you. He never hesitated to get on top of you again, before crashing his lips on yours and wrapping your arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss.

taglist: @wolfchanchan @inseonqt @soobin-chois @hanjiesgf @koovvie @lix-ables @zoe8stay @gwynsapphire @cherryhanji @lixesque @seungly @sleepyleeji @kim-seung-mo @strangevante @h0neydewmoon @ppiri-bahng @myjisung @snow-pegasus @milkybonya @l3visbby @yejis-biggest-simp @tangylemonade @hwan-g — lmk if you want to be added or removed !!

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year

Text

Just Friends | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ best friends to lovers, expletives, implied sexual intimacy

☾ A/N ➼ This is the sauciest thing I've ever written and I haven't stopped blushing since I've finished it. asdl;jalsd anyways. Enjoy? This was proofread once, take it as is lmao. K love y'all bye <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.3k

Levi clutches the seat belt that wraps tightly around his chest with white knuckles. He's flung forward yet again as the truck you both currently sat in took a massive dip in the dirt path, no thanks to your erratic swerving. He looks over to you with a signature scowl and a pointed look. You’re quick to shoot back a toothy grin. He knew better than to let you drive but he suggested it anyways since his knee pains were flaring up again with the oncoming storm.

“Will you keep your eyes on the fucking road?” Levi grumbles through clenched teeth.

“I am! But you won’t stop shooting daggers my way.” You swerve around another hole, almost hitting the wooden fence that separates the road from an open pasture, currently devoid of any farm life.

“I’m only doing that because you’re literally the worst driver I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.” Levi’s grip on the belt tightens. He looks up through the windshield of the threatening dark gray clouds that were rolling in far too fast for his liking. The weatherman had said the storm would be arriving later in the evening, but it seems the weather gods were feeling spiteful today. “Also, why the fuck would you think taking the backroads would be a better option??”

“I just thought they’d be quicker. I know how storms can get for you…” You trail off as you risk a glance over to your friend. He doesn’t give you a reaction so you continue, “I just wanted to get you home faster.”

“More like get me killed faster.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here!” You hit a bump at full speed. You shriek as you grip the wheel hard to keep it straight. “At least it’s not raining yet!”

Curse you and your damn words. A heavy raindrop hits the windshield with a splat. Then another. And another. And suddenly it’s downpouring. Not enough to blind you fully but it’s loud against the truck’s body. You sense Levi tensing up next to you and you silently curse at yourself. You take a deep breath before glancing over to him with another grin.

“It’s fine! I know where we’re going. We’ll be there in no time!” You feign a good tone. You only hear more grumbles in response.

After another 15 minutes of driving down a now muddy path, it was extremely clear that you had no idea where you were going. Levi hadn’t said anything the whole time, but he was increasingly getting more stressed, and you could feel it. You thought this was the right way, but you were questioning yourself. With the rain now coming down in sheets, it was even harder to see. Maybe you missed a turn?? You spot another divot and turn the wheel so you can drive around it, making sure to slow down. But that smart decision quickly turns into a big mistake. You feel the driver’s side tilt down and the truck abruptly stops.

“What did you do?” Levi glares hard at you.

“I was trying to swerve around a hole but I think there was another one on the other side.” You squeak. You press down on the gas, and you hear the truck rumble but not move. Mud sprays your window as you do so. You do it again, more rumbling, more mud. “I think we’re stuck.”

“You think so?” Levi’s voice is cold, jaw locked and tense.

“Listen man, I can’t control the weather. I was trying to do this for you!” You whip your head over to his icy gaze and give him an equally narrow glare.

“I never asked you to.” Levi digs his fingers into his thighs and looks away, out the window with his back turned to you.

“I know you hate storms but you don’t have to be so mean.” You huff and quickly unbuckle your seat belt before sticking the gear into neutral. Levi glances back over to you at the noise.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to try and push.” You pull up your cloth hood and zip your jacket up to your neck. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.

“The fuck you will. By yourself?”

“Well, you could help.” You turn to face him. His matching stormy eyes are wide at you, but he says nothing. “Yeah, okay.” You mutter before opening the door and sliding out into the raging wind and rain. You immediately regret it. In mere seconds you’re soaked to the bone. You tuck yourself in to keep in some warmth as you make your way over to the front of the truck, stepping around the massive hole it was currently stuck in. Muddy water went up to the middle of the tire and the way the hole was, there was no way to go forward. But if you could push the vehicle back, then you might be able to get it back on even ground.

You grip the front of the cold, wet metal and start pushing. It barely moves an inch. Of course. You do your best to plant your feet into the squishy mud under you and push again. There’s some movement, but not enough to make a difference. Wiping the rain from your face with an equally wet sleeve, you bend your knees a little and grunt as you push again. You feel it shift and move even more. You’re doing it! You glance into the windshield but notice the truck is empty. Something rustles next to you and you jump as suddenly you notice a figure to the left of you. It’s Levi. His raven-hair is already plastered to his skin from the rain, water dripping down his face as he pushes against the metal.

“What!?” He yells over to the rain to you, his eyes cutting into yours.

“Nothing!” You scream back, giving him a lopsided smile. “Thanks!”

“Whatever, just push!” It takes quite a few more before you’re able to get the wheel mostly out of the hole, the muddy water now just above the bottom of the tire.

“I think we just need one more big push!” You shout over to Levi, giving him a thumbs up. He nods and digs his shoes into the mud, you doing the same on the other side. “On three!”

“One… two… THREE!” You both shove on the hood at the same time and you feel like laughing because it gives easily, rolling back and out of the hole before stopping abruptly on flat land. But the shove was a little too strong and you find yourself falling face first with nothing to lean against and you’re suddenly tasting mud. You’re quick to push yourself up as you splutter out the disgusting water, wiping it from your eyes with a groan. When you look over, Levi is in the exact same predicament. If looks could kill.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to be out here!” You can’t help it, you burst out in laughter at the sight in front of you. Levi is drenched head to toe in dark mud, everything now brown. His face is just as covered save for his eyes and mouth that he just swiped clean. He scowls and says your name with irritation.

“Levi, come on! I know I got us here but everything else wasn’t my fault!” You frown at him. His sour mood was really starting to grate on you. You’re usually used to it but today was different.

You really didn’t mean to get the two of you into this predicament. You knew storms were the reason for his frigid attitude, but you couldn’t help but take it extremely personally. You were just trying to get him home quicker and it’s not like he fought back when you made the initial turn down the road. A distant rumble of thunder rolls through and Levi’s body freezes for a moment. You didn’t have time to sit out in the rain arguing. “C’mon. Let’s just get in. I can get the seats cleaned later.” You sigh and push yourself up from the ground, mud squishing under your fingers as you do.

Luckily, you kept an emergency kit in the back compartments in case you were stranded during the winter. The season change had come so quickly that you hadn’t had time to pull it out. In it were a couple towels, a reflective heat blanket, water and snacks, as well as a little first aid kit. Both doors shut at the same time and the quick change in volume is deafening. The rain is muffled as it hits the window and another rumble rolls through the sky, closer but still quiet in the safe haven you both found in the truck.

You throw him a towel before using the other to work on cleaning your face and hair. Before you both settled in, you made sure to shut the truck off so as to not waste gas. But because of that, it was now getting colder. Your clothes now feel icy against your skin as the wetness weighs it down. Once you were able to get as much mud off as you could, you quickly pull out the thermal blanket and unfold it. It’s big enough that you and Levi could share if you huddled close. Speaking of…

Levi’s already wiped off any traces of mud on his skin. He looks over to you as he’s cleaning behind his ears, his eyes softened considerably. However, a scowl is still ever-present.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever?” You mumble.

“Depends, are you going to attempt to kill me again?” He snaps back.

“I didn’t know this would happen.” You huff at him again.

“Tch.”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way then I’m not sharing the thermal blanket.” You wrap the thin aluminum plastic over your body and pull yourself into a ball before facing away from him with a pout. You can’t help but think about today as a whole. Sure, the situation you were both in was not favorable, especially with his past and storms. But it felt like there was something else going on with him. He’s been snarkier and ruder than he usually is with you. Ans a lot more serious.

“Levi?” You whisper after a few beats.

“What?”

“Did I do something wrong?” You pull your knees closer to you and hug them to your chest. There’s no response, but he does shift in his seat, it squeaks under him as he does. There’s a resounding silence before he sighs.

“No.” You flip your head to the other side so that you can see him. His gaze flicks over to the window quickly, failing to hide his obvious staring. You smirk at that.

“Then why are you so angry at me?”

“I’m not angry… at you.”

“But you’re angry.”

“…I guess.”

“Why?”

His eyes land on you and there’s pain in them. His typical brick walls are up and it’s infuriating to you because you thought 15-something years of friendship would have broken those down by now. His eyebrows pinch in the middle like they always do when he’s thinking hard about what to say next. And it stays like that for a moment. The rain is lightening up a bit and you can tell because of how much softer it is against the glass. It makes the silence all the more louder.

“What am I to you?” He leans back into the seat as he stares hard into your eyes, searching. The question takes you off guard and you release your legs, making them tumble to the floor so you’re sitting straight up.

“What are you to me? What kind of question is that?” You laugh nervously.

“What… am I… to you?” He whispers slowly. There’s that pain in his eyes again, shining like a lighthouse in the night. Begging for someone to notice it, to take caution.

“I- what do-” He snaps your name, and it makes you jump at his sudden aggression.

“Just answer the question, goddamn it!” Heat flushes to your cheeks as you swallow hard.

“Levi, what do you want to be to me?” Your voice now back to a whisper. He stares incredulously at you for a moment before doing something you never even imagined in a thousand years. He leans forward and closes the distance faster than you can blink. Then his lips are on yours, soft and hot. When he pulls away, it feels as if your entire body has erupted into flames. You pull your fingers to your mouth, still feeling the pressure of his against it. His wide eyes must reflect your own because you both gawk at each other in silence.

“Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thi-” He stutters before he’s silenced by you throwing yourself in his direction and pushing your lips back on to him. Eyes closed this time, you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer. Levi doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into your hips to pull you into him as he meets your rhythm, heaving chests pressed against each other as you both struggle for air. You both push away at the same time and take a deep breath, gazing hard at each other.

Levi’s face is flushed the most beautiful red you've ever seen and his damp hair was tousled every which way from your wandering hands. He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind because you’re already pulling his shirt up and he’s tugging at your pants, cloth gripped tight under clenched fists. Whatever he is to you, it’s obvious that it’s more than just friends. And you were okay with that.

☾ shout-out to @humanitys-strongest-bamf for being my cheerleader last night. 💕 Also please join my taglist for future content!

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #modern au #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi x reader #levi ackerman x gn!reader #one shot

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bg-brainrot · 6 months

Text

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 17: What We are Now

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, blood, lots of talk of blood

WC: 11.5k words, 17/?? chapters

Summary: When you’re left to your own devices, you find yourself knee-deep in mystery. Despite all of this, Astarion never leaves your mind. And perhaps you never leave his.

Ao3 | [Ch16][Ch18] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

When you awake for your twenty-second day in the house, you wonder if you should even bother counting anymore. Astarion is done with you, what use was staying for another week? Should I just… leave? You think, blinking yourself out of your reverie.

You don’t leave immediately– rather, you can’t bring yourself to. He has condemned you, called your little situation over, but he hasn’t forcibly removed you, so you sit on the bed and think.

Let’s say he really never wants to see me again… What do I do now?

Your mind answers quickly, I need to help the spawn.

Well, I can’t just stay here! … Can I?

I don’t want to go, you answer. Maybe I’ll just stay until I get kicked out?

That wouldn’t help. Astarion may only be more upset. Shouldn’t you get out before you make him hate you even more?

Maybe he just needs time, you defend. I can hope, can’t I?

You’re not sure how long you spend just thinking, but when you finally finish you decide on a few things.

First, you will stay here as long as you can, until the vampire kicks you out himself. Second, this changes nothing– you may be the only one who has the means to help the spawn and you cannot abandon them when you might be their best hope. And third, no matter how much it hurts, even if Astarion abhors you with every fiber of his being, you can’t seem to feel anything but love for him. It’s like a valve you’re no longer able to shut. So, you will simply need to see where the flow of love guides you– whether it be into the man’s arms for forgiveness or away from his disdain.

Path decided, you spend the rest of the day hard at work memorizing the cipher. You light the paper as Dal instructed, illuminating an intricate pattern of symbols and their corresponding Common counterparts. Fascinating, you think, taking a quick perusal. It seems a mixture of some elvish, some infernal, and perhaps a smidge of thief’s cant?

Several of the symbols simply make sense, clicking immediately in your mind. Others swim in front of your eyes, as you realize with growing dread that you’re starving . Not enough to warrant risking an encounter with Astarion, right? Right, you think, steadfastly focused on trying to decipher the paper.

Eventually, your hunger becomes too much for you to ignore. Spending another day without food is certainly out of the question– you’re not sure how vampires seem to do so regularly given their unrelenting hunger– so you summon your remaining courage and intone an Invisibility spell.

Now invisible, you sneak out of the room to tiptoe down to the kitchen. You pause for a brief moment on the stairs, debating whether or not you should steal Rhapsody while you’re invisible– you decide against it, afraid that going anywhere near his room could get you caught. Perhaps you should wait until it feels like you’re no longer welcome. Only then, only maybe, you should steal it as a last ditch effort.

Once in the kitchen, you grab anything that might stay well, dried fruits, nuts, grains, and slink back to your room. You never see the man you’re avoiding, but you’re certain that he knows you’re still here. How could he not?

Does he just not care? you think. The thought fills you with unease, dreading his apathy more than any amount of antipathy…

Back in your room, hunger sated, thirst quenched, and feeling more like yourself, you get back to work on memorizing the cipher. It’s easier once the growl of your stomach stills, allowing you the clarity you needed for some of the trickier symbols.

Ah, I see, you think at one point. In all of my dreams, I would never have guessed that symbol translated to this. What a clever little system. I wonder if Astarion contributed to it.

Astarion– you mind keeps coming back to the man. Despite the dull ache in your chest every time a thought of him crops up, you can’t stop thinking of him. Even now, knee-deep in research he would loathe, your mind strays to him. I wonder what he thought of it all, back when my past-self started the research. He always let them do their work before eventually distracting them away. He must have been fine with it once upon a time, albeit unenthusiastic.

You think of him once more a few hours later, once you think you’ve nearly memorized most of the cipher and recognize his name written in code on a journal entry. It takes a moment for you to translate, but it reads, “Astarion is to join me on the next expedition. If you’re reading this, love, please finish packing.” You smile at the note, wondering if Astarion did end up reading the reminder.

The smile drops when you read the next line, “We’re exploring at coordinates 38, -22, it’s our best lead yet– a bit hidden, but I’m nearly certain it’s the wizard’s tower.” You set the paper aside, wondering if it had in fact been that fateful place.

Halfway through the day, a knock comes at your door. Your heart catches in your throat. Could he be…? You head to the door cautiously, quietly, as if you could sneak up on it– As if your silence could keep the man on the other side from reconsidering and running away. Maybe he understands, maybe he spoke with Dal and finally, truly–

You open the door to see Dal, waiting patiently, a kind, open look on her face.

“Hello,” she says, bowing her head slightly. “I’m sorry to arrive here unexpectedly, but I spoke with Astarion.”

You try not to let the mention of his name affect you, or the fact that it’s not him at the door show in sheer disappointment. You’re not sure how successful you are, but your voice sounds somewhat normal when you respond, “Hi Dal, it’s alright. We, um, fought. As I’m sure he told you.” If you could call that a fight…

She nods, and you wonder what he said to her, if he was as mad at her as he was at you. “He was hoping I would talk to you, actually. To… convince you not to help us. I told him I didn’t want to do that.”

Of course she wouldn’t, or she wouldn’t have snuck in here without his knowledge in the first place. But you’re still curious where this leaves them. After all, they still clearly all care for each other. How did they all manage to stay ‘siblings’ this long, with this many disagreements? As an only child, you don’t suppose you’ll ever understand. “Is he mad at you?”

Dalyria scrunches her face a bit, as if unsure how to answer that. “Yes. But not in the way he seems to be mad at you. I won’t delude myself into thinking that any of us matter enough to Astarion to warrant more than a century of, well, brooding.”

Again, it feels like you’re speaking with an old friend– if your heart didn’t feel so thoroughly beaten, you might have even laughed along and assured her otherwise. As it was, you could only manage a simple response, “I see… So I really did ruin everything, didn’t I?”

“Hardly,” she says with the shake of her head. “He will come around. He just needs… time. And maybe for a few of us to beat him over the head.” She gives you a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite do anything to reassure you.

“Even if he has all of the time in the world, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop trying to help you, so what difference does it make?” you ask. It’s not in your nature to give up on something like this. You can tell that that runs deeper than who you are now, it’s who you’ve always been.

“We appreciate that. And I hope that Astarion will too, in due time,” she says looking down, perhaps to where Astarion may be at this very moment. “As much as he doesn’t want you to do this, he still cares about us enough to give me this chance.”

You look at her, furrowing your brows in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I would like you to stay to help us,” she says, looking at you intensely. “But you can’t exactly stay in the colony, not with all of that… well, blood in your body. You might get eaten alive before you can read a single piece of paper.”

It makes sense– Petras had mentioned as much when you had been locked up in their cells. You can’t imagine being locked up and without magic again would be of much help anyway. “So, what’s happening? Is Astarion letting me stay here?”

She nods. “He won’t be staying here with you though. He’s still quite upset. I’ll try talking to him, of course, but we aren’t on the best of terms currently, so no promises.”

You feel a weight lift off of your shoulders. The dread you had been carrying with you all morning fades ever so slightly. Thank the gods, I have time. “How long?” you ask.

“He said you’re allowed to stay until your ‘previously agreed upon time’,” Dal intones in his voice, and you do laugh this time.

A week. Not a lot of time, but enough to at least get through some of these notes, ask Dal questions. Maybe start to look for new leads…

“Okay,” you say to her, with a firm nod. “I can work with that. Thank you, Dal.”

“It’s the least I could do,” she says, waving away your thanks. “I am aware that you’re sacrificing a lot for us. Just as you did in your past life. Know that I will never forget that.”

In this lifetime, you don’t know what it’s like to have a sibling. But gods do you wish that you could count Dal as one. You wish that you could ask her for a comforting hug, for her to listen to all of your problems about Astarion– maybe you’d had that before, but you’re too afraid of ruining yet another relationship to find out. “I’m happy to help you all, just as I did before,” you say. “Maybe when this is all said and done, you can put in a good word for me with Astarion.”

The woman laughs. “If you manage this, I will help you win over anyone. An archdevil, a god, you name them, and I will make it happen.”

Even with the world on offer before you, you know that your heart only wants the one man. “I think I would be quite content with Astarion,” you say, blushing despite yourself.

She gives you a knowing smile, eyes warm as she looks upon you. “Don’t worry, my friend. He will come around eventually. A love like yours doesn’t transcend lifetimes for it to fade like that.”

Gods, you want to believe her. Just like you wanted to believe Halsin. So you nod, trying to keep the burning in your eyes from turning into tears. “Yes, you’re right,” you respond, with no real conviction. I just hope he believes that someday.

"I know I am!" she says, emphatically, sensing your lack of faith. "You know, when you first arrived, when you were locked in the cell– he and I spoke. He told me he wanted nothing to do with you."

You recall as much, so you gulp and respond, "Yes, he made that very clear."

"He only agreed to speak with you for our sake. I asked him to check at the very least, to see if maybe you had a means to help us. After all, if he wanted nothing to do with you, it wouldn't matter, would it?" She offers up the question like a challenge, one he likely took up with ease.

Sure , you think. Pawn off the weird elf that showed up on your doorstep to your desperate siblings. "That… makes sense." You still feel a sting of disappointment at knowing he truly didn't care what had happened to you. “He asked me about your hunger at the very least.”

“Well, he's nothing like that now. He wants me to leave you the hells alone,” she says, as if the answer was right before you. “Don’t you see? Whether or not he knows it, he cares now. He only wants to keep you safe– he just has a very… Astarion-way of showing affection."

That's one way to look at it. "I know, Dal," you say with a sigh. "I'm afraid that affection isn't enough in this case."

She looks at you for a long moment before she shakes her head in frustration. "Gods, you two really aren't any different. A hundred years, two hundred years, you'll continue to completely lose all sense of reason about each other."

You want to defend yourself, even Astarion, but you suppose she's right. "Did we… fight often?" You're afraid of the answer.

"Not particularly," she says, smiling at you ruefully. "But it was always about something truly exasperating like this."

You wish you'd dreamt of some of those arguments, if only to figure out how to fix everything– you doubt any of it would be that helpful for this particular situation though. Perhaps Dal remembers. "How did we fix things afterward?"

The woman shrugs. "Not a clue, honestly. I just know that eventually Astarion would show back up with a skip in his step, acting like the sun shone out of every dismal crack in the Underdark.” She gives you a lighthearted chuckle, which you reluctantly reciprocate.

“Fine, I’ll retain a modicum of hope,” you relent. “But in my past-life, they had more than a hundred years of love between them, resolving their issues together. I’ve had what? Three weeks of awkward fumbles and apologies?”

At that she snorts, throwing her head back a bit. “You’re both so dramatic. You will just need to believe me when I say, this has been the happiest, most alive I’ve seen Astarion for the past hundred-fifty years.”

The thought fills you with guilt more than any type of joy. Not only had your previous life sent him into a broken limbo for decades, but to think that you also had ruined the first bout of happiness he’d experienced? You feel like the villain in Astarion’s story more than anything. “Well, let’s hope that proves to be enough, despite all of this.”

“Like I said, I’ll speak to him,” she assures. “Now, I should get back to him before he tries to murder Petras.”

Dal looks to be about ready to leave when she adds, “Oh yes, here.” She shoves a Sending Stone into your hand. “It’s Astarion’s.” She adds before you can ask, “Don’t worry, he gave it to me. Something about keeping his house from blowing up, but I suspect he also wants to make sure you’re alright. This way we can communicate a bit faster. If you need anything, Leon and I are ready and willing to help, either to answer questions or get you any materials.”

Your hands close around the stone, hugging it to yourself tightly as you recall that the last person to use it was likely Astarion. “Thank you, Dal.”

“Think nothing of it! I know this feels… bad,” she winces at the understatement. “But it might be a good opportunity for us to investigate openly– without needing to hide from Astarion’s worried glares.”

It’s true enough, you suppose. But you still feel like the bad outweighs the good. You decide not to tell her that though, since this is her life on the line. “Yes, I’ll be sure to call you up here if I find anything, ask any questions with the stone if I have them.”

With one final wave, the woman leaves you to it, heading back down the way she came. You think it’s the last you’ll see of her for the day until you receive a message from her once she’s out of sight.

“Testing the stone. Also, don’t forget, no matter what happens, we’ll always be your family too.”

Your heart clenches at the shy admission of love from her, and you promptly reply, “The stone works. And thank you, Dal. I appreciate that more than I can say.”

You spend the rest of the night ensuring that the cipher is thoroughly memorized. Once you’re certain you could recite it forward and backward, you light the corner of the parchment with a small fire. As you watch the paper burn in your hands, you can’t help but feel a sense of real accomplishment for the first time since you’ve arrived.

Every other success has come with a caveat so far. You had gained entry into Astarion's house, only under his strict limits. You had helped save the colony, but not without exhausting yourself. You'd managed to gain Astarion's trust, only to destroy it quite thoroughly.

So you relish the feeling, soak in the momentary victory. That night your reverie comes quickly.

You dream of the Hero's life that night. At first, you suspect it's another useless, albeit comforting dream of Astarion, cozy in the man’s arms. But when you open your eyes you find his hands aren’t caressing so much as restraining.

Your body struggles against Astarion’s grasp. “Let me go, Astarion!”

“No!” he hisses, pulling on you tighter. “We need to go. Now.”

Oh no, you think, as the dream settles around you. You can feel a chill in your bones, the deep dank of the Underdark around you. You must be in the necromancer’s tower. Is this… that day?

“Astarion, we can’t turn away now,” you plead, tugging against him. “We’ve come too far for that.”

“Nonsense,” he responds with another forceful pull. “We can, and we shall .”

You can feel your body’s heels dig in, into the dusty tiles beneath you, crushing them slightly with the pressure. “I know what I’m doing. I can get to the wizard’s laboratory and–”

“Wizard?!” he all but yells in his panic. “I know you want to help, but this, my dear, is a necromancer’s tower. You know as well as I do that this isn’t worth it.”

“It is worth it. And I know what I’m doing,” your voice counters, strong in its confidence. You can feel that certainty, and maybe they had been prepared for all manner of inevitabilities. Unfortunately not the one that mattered. “If we leave now, we will have to wait another month until the tower is available to us. Will we be any more prepared then?”

“Fine,” Astarion growls, nostrils flaring with anger. He turns his body away from you and you’re left facing his armor-clad back. “Go on then. I’ll be waiting here when you finally come to your damned senses.”

And so you continue on alone.

Unlike other dreams, where you wish you could control your body, run into Astarion’s arms, save yourself– you don’t shy away this time. You already know how this will end, and you know that no amount of cowering will save you. So you embrace the experience.

Your body walks throughout the tower, careful all the way, but with solid, steady steps. You know that their confidence isn’t unwarranted. They’d faced necromancers before, they’d been in magical towers– the only difference was that back then they had had help.

After what feels like hours of careful sneaking and searching, you find what you suspect was the laboratory from their research.

It’s as disgusting as one might expect a necromancer’s lab to be– beakers full of dark, suspended liquid, the thick stench of undeath in the air, and more than anything, blood. Gods, there is blood everywhere. The man who worked here was not a kind one if the splatters and trails of the substance were any indication.

Your body tiptoes around some unknown liquid on the floor, carefully inspecting every inch of surface, looking for something. The notes, you think. They’re probably hidden away somewhere…

Thinking in a similar vein of thought, your past-self heads toward a large, imposing desk at the end of the room. Opening drawer after drawer, they pull out papers, looking through them, tossing them back on the table once they dismiss them. Eventually, they find a compartment behind one of the drawers– tucked behind is a familiar stack of papers. The very same that Dal had deposited in front of you earlier in the day. Only this time, they’re pristine.

Your past self starts shuffling through the papers, clearly written in a language that neither of you read. Perhaps something long dead by the looks of this place. They seem to be unsure if these are the papers, their confusion seeping through to you, until they get to the final page.

There, a ring is sketched, several notes pointing out elements within the design.

The elation your past-self feels is blinding in its strength– It’s like staring into the sun, and you feel the reverie receding as a result.

No, no, you think. There are other emotions, anticipation, concern, curiosity– all of them call to you, indicating that there’s still more to find here. I need to learn more. I can’t–

The dream slips out of your fingers, and you’re left laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in disappointment.

Somehow, you're still counting down the days in this house. It's your twenty-third day, and you have free reign of the place– an odd sensation after Astarion's watchful gaze monitored many of your movements for three weeks.

It's not unwelcome though. Despite its overwrought decorations, the mansion is lovely. With a sigh, you get out of bed and wander down to the kitchen. Ah, you think, opening the pantry to a sad, lacking sight. I need to go get food.

You had skipped several meals last week, as a result of battle, injury, and general disposition, so yesterday you'd been able to forgo your weekly trip. Now, you nod and close the empty cabinet, ready to go restock. All the while aware that it may very well be your last trip to this market.

As you head out, you can't help but think about what an inconvenience this is. Gods, I wish I didn't need to eat. At the same time, what would the alternative be? An ever-present hunger that gnaws at you every moment of every day, like a vampire? You suppose you should be grateful for your mortal body’s needs.

The thought does result in you spending the trip thinking about blood.

There is a lot of blood in the world, and some mortals are even willing to offer their blood up freely. However no amount of mortal volunteers would be enough to satiate the entire colony of vampires.

You could try to create a source of blood for them, but would the hunger ever truly leave them? Or would they just need to keep drinking, stuck in a sanguine cycle of continuous thirst? You’re not certain, but therein lies the dilemma: How can you ever satisfy a hunger born of vampirism?

Gods, I wish that myth had been reality, you think, heaving your groceries over your shoulder and heading back to Astarion’s mansion.

It's on the way back that you're reminded that you’re not the only one out to sate a vampire’s hunger. There are plenty lining up, just waiting for their chance.

As you climb up the stairs to the grand door of Astarion's manor, you spot someone waiting at the precipice. They seem to be nervous, not approaching the door even as the seconds trickle on. When you pull up behind them, they startle.

“Oh sweet hells,” they breathe out, hand on their heart. “Who… ?” They look at you confused, and you get a good look at the stranger. They’re a tall, purple tiefling– a bit lanky and awkward, but overall neatly arranged, with the appearance of a bardic scholar.

“Sorry for the fright,” you respond, nodding at them. “If you’re looking for Astarion, he’s away.”

The tiefling does nothing to mask their disappointment, but looks at you appraisingly. “And you are?”

Who are you? You’re not entirely sure how to respond. You’re not his lover, his housekeep, nor his colleague. You’re nothing but a stranger to him, you suppose. Pushing aside the introspection, you only say, “A guest.”

They look visibly relieved, and something in you stings at how easily they believed that. Do I really look that ill-suited for him? You decide not to express this as you push past them and toward the house.

“Excuse me,” they say, holding a hand out to you as you walk past. “Do you know when he’ll be returning?”

You could be honest, say that he won’t be back until the end of the week and even then, he will be leaving. Or you could be even more honest, say that he wouldn’t want to see them anyway. But for some reason, you hold your tongue, shake your head, and add a simple, “Sorry.”

They give a sigh, dropping their head in a deflated defeat. “Well then. All this way for nothing.”

Your curiosity can’t help but poke at that. “How far did you travel?”

“I hail from Athkatla,” they say, with a grimace. “I don’t much look forward to heading all the way back.” In Amn, you recall. Certainly a distance to travel, though not near as far as Neverwinter. It’s likely that they didn’t have the luxury of a teleportation circle though.

Such a sizable distance for a chance to meet with Astarion? Surely that couldn’t be the case. Then again, that was the case for me… You still ask, “Why come all this way for Astarion?”

They look at you as if you’re daft. “Are you quite certain you are a guest here?”

“I am,” you say, adjusting your bag as you try to stand a bit taller, prouder. “Why?”

“Because there’s not a single hopeless romantic alive who isn’t aware of Astarion,” they say, and you can practically see the ill-placed longing in their eyes. “Naturally, it’s a slim chance, but for the love of a good vampire? It’s the very fabric of legends.”

“Don’t you know that legends aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be?” you ask, a bit too bitterly. Both thoughts of the mythical sunlight ring and of Astarion’s long-unbeating heart turning your lips into a scowl.

The tiefling doesn’t seem to care, laughing lightly. “That’s where you’re wrong. All good legends have a kernel of truth to them. It’s simply a matter of finding it!”

Huh, you think, considering the odd optimism of their words. Externally, you respond, “Well then, good luck finding the truth.” You bow your head as you walk away, eager to put this conversation behind you and get back to your own myths.

“Wait! Could you– maybe you could relay a message to the man?” the tiefling calls, desperation raising the pitch of their voice.

You’re about to agree– after all, what harm would pretending to relay a message do?– when you take a pause. Maybe they should have the cold reality of the situation laid before them. Maybe they won’t have the same, horrendous experience you’d had, if only you can dash the last remnants of hope from their heart. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re feeling jealous. More jealous of this real, living person in front of you than any of the hypothetical lovers who’d arrived at his door in the past century.

Embracing the starting smolders of jealousy, you say, “He’s uninterested. In fact, I recommend that you rewrite the legend.” You take a step back toward them, staring at them with what you hope is an intimidating look. “He’s not a lonely, good vampire, waiting for someone to come save him. He’s flawed. He’s rude. And his heart belongs to one soul and one soul only.”

They take a step back, clearly uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. “And who are you to say such things?”

There’s that damnable question again. This time though, you tilt your chin up, ignoring the guilt in your stomach, the ache in your heart. Because you know who you are, despite everything that’s transpired between you. “Astarion’s long lost love. Write that in your next legend.”

With those words, you turn back toward the house. You ignore their spluttering responses, opening the door, entering, closing it behind you. Once you’re alone with your thoughts again, you let out a deep breath.

Gods, why did I do that? you think to yourself, acutely aware of what a disrespectful show that was. The tiefling hadn’t done anything wrong– nothing that you hadn’t done anyway. How could you snap at them like that? One day you realize you love the man, the next you decide to declare it to a stranger. Worse yet, a stranger who was vying for that same man’s love.

Love really does drive people mad. You go to organize your food supplies for the week in a fog of shame. Underneath it all is a subtle satisfaction: you had only spoken the truth. Astarion really has refused to love another, you truly are his lost love. All you need to do is fix everything that you’ve broken and the pieces will align again. Or so you tell yourself. It’s a solid driving force to keep you going forward, away from the depths of despair.

Perseverance is really all you need right now, because you have a large stack of papers with years worth of information, just waiting for you to uncover it.

You start at the beginning. Or at least, you think it’s the beginning. It’s hard to tell with the way that Dalyria has stacked the papers, and you take it upon yourself to start reorganizing them as you read.

After many hours, you find several distinct piles emerging in front of you.

The first pile is where you place all of the research on blood: what makes blood, how vampires process blood, how it impacts them even if they can survive without it. Plenty of it is knowledge you know, only with the depth of someone who’s obsession is evident in the details.

The second pile is composed of all of the research you had done on the mage’s mythical enhanced sunlight rings, as well as the mage’s tower. Some of it overlaps with the research on blood, but a large portion of it is looking into the myth, tracking down its source, and where the mage lived.

The next pile contains all of the ring diagrams that Dal mentioned. Plenty of intricate design work, courtesy of your past-self and perhaps some of Gale’s work as well– you recognize a few magic runes in his script. The designs range in sizes, in complexity, in form. From a glance, you can tell that the rings were designed with two major components in mind: a material needed to be embedded within the base metal and another material needed to infuse it. Truthfully, it’s basic enchanting, likely their initial design ahead of visiting the necromancer’s tower based on Gale’s conjecture.

The final pile consists of, well, everything else. You place notes about vampirism, journals of your past-self’s process, and investigations on other leads among other things. These leads include a mythical fountain of blood in Evereska, a stone said to contain the life’s blood of an entire nation, even a tall tale of how a man staved off hunger for three centuries through discipline and more than a little blood magic– all incredibly dark, gory legends which seem to be even more far fetched than the rings. It’s unsurprising to see the depths to which they would have gone to fix the problem, although a bit concerning.

Gods, you think. I would have hidden some of this away too.

And the forbidden nature of these legends takes you to the singular uncategorized piece of information: the necromancer’s notes. They’re grotesque, of course– a testament to the dark depravity of this man’s magic. But they also feel distinctly different from your own notes.

A quick Detect Magic shows that none of the materials in front of you are directly magical in nature, but you can tell simply by the heavinessness in your heart that they are important. Perhaps there is more to this legend than meets the eye…

You wish you could tell though. It’s difficult to decipher the notes, with the dark, dried splotches of blood covering a large portion of the text. Surely Gale would have removed the blood if he’d been able to, but you still attempt a quick, magical clean.

Sure enough, the blood remains, and you curse the nine hells. “Fine then,” you growl at the notes in your hands. “We shall have to do this the hard way.”

The hard way will have to wait though, as it’s already gotten quite late in the day, your mind is inundated with information, and you’ll need to prepare a new set of spells to fight this particular beast. So you set down the materials, leaving them in an orderly set of stacks for the night, and enter your reverie in a bit of a huff.

That night you dream of a life in which you were a bard, spinning your tales of legend at a tavern. It’s one of your less preferred lives, as you’ve gathered that they’re somewhat of a scoundrel. You can’t help but wonder if dreaming of them is born of your guilt from the day, a form of wicked penance. It certainly feels like it as you spend the reverie playing the lute for a pittance.

On your twenty-fourth day in Astarion’s manor, you wake up well-rested and truly excited to get to the bottom of this necromancer’s notes. Underneath the excitement is a bit of dread. Only three days without Astarion, and you’re already wondering if you might ever see him again.

I hope I’ll at least see him when I leave, you think. Surely, he wouldn’t let me leave without a goodbye?

You try not to dwell on it as you prepare a few key spells for the day: Identify, in case there’s any spell put on the papers; Remove Curse, just in case that spell isn’t a kind one; and Comprehend Languages, to be able to read the archaic text.

Alright, you think to yourself, as you hurriedly scarf down a meal. Let’s try to figure this out.

Several hours, a few spell slots, and a lot of swearing later, your excitement has thoroughly wavered. What the hells are these made of, you think, staring down the necromancer’s notes in frustration.

They are certainly not made of paper, because any attempts to transmute the material have failed immediately. They are not magical in of themselves, but they do seem to have some kind of preservation magic affecting them, protecting them from everything save for blood. The notes seem to be written in it. And, worst of all, your own dying, damnable blood will not let you make out the text save a few spots– likely all of the same spots that Gale already took a look at. No wonder he wasn’t able to make heads or tails of this rubbish, you think with a sigh.

Those spots are informative, to an extent. Once you’re able to comprehend the ancient language, you find a few key pieces of information. They describe what Dal mentioned, that the blood of a vampire lord was key. They describe that the rings must be made of a magical metal, infused with that very same blood– you briefly wonder if you’d be able to melt Rhapsody down without Astarion noticing.

Finally, the notes describe a vampire’s hunger in deep, deep detail. You don’t want to know how this necromancer could have gathered this much detail, but it was clearly an integral part of his research. One passage in particular stands out to you:

A vampire’s hunger is unquenchable. It is as eternal as their souls, seemingly intertwined into their very essence. As such, I knew I would need to find the source of this unquenchable thirst and do the unthinkable: quench it. Naturally, I have utterly smothered it.

When faced with the dilemma of an eternal gift coupled with an eternal curse, you must somehow separate the two. So I have done so.

All you need to do is take this hunger, give it new form, and fill that form beyond all reason. Simple, really. How could it have taken me so long to find this solution? How could I have limited myself to the mere moral quandaries of mortals?

Of course the most natural ingredient of all is blood–

The words cut off, as your own past-self’s blood cuts off the rest of the page. You’re not sure what to make of it. It certainly sounds like the lunatic ravings of a man drunk on his own power, but it also doesn’t seem entirely impossible…

Regardless, the magic is dark. It almost sounds like he took the curse of a vampire’s ravenous hunger and gave it physical form, then quenched that physical form with the very thing vampire’s require: blood. More so than removing the curse, it seems to imply transferring it to an object, essentially, to sate your own thirst. You can’t even imagine how much blood you may need for a ritual of that magnitude.

I should think that this is ludicrous, you think, glaring down at the parchment. I do think that this is ludicrous. But… Some part of you isn’t wholly convinced. Yes, it sounds insane. Yes, the necromancer was likely mad. But, blood aside, it doesn’t seem that far from your own magic. Transmutation at its very core is modification, it’s changing the nature of things. This isn’t pure madness.

That’s all well and good, of course. However there’s no use dwelling on it while the rest of his notes are so entirely illegible.

In fact the last time these were legible was…

The thought strikes you like a crack of lightning. I was the last person to see these notes in their entirety. Well, not you. But it may as well have been you, given that you have their memories.

Just a few nights ago, you read through the notes in your reverie, understanding none of them. You want to facepalm at the sheer misfortune of it. “What in the Outer Planes am I supposed to do with that?”

You remember from that very dream that you weren’t done in the tower. You have no clue where you could have ventured to cause your death. What else could you have been looking for?

Should I… the thought feels wrong. You don’t want to finish it, Astarion’s angry face all but burned into your mind. But finish it you do. Should I head back to the tower?

You’re not sure if it's your heart or your soul that aches at the thought. And you’re not sure if it's in pain, fear, or a deep, unshakable thrill.

You still the emotions with a singular deep breath. No, I can’t go. Not yet.

There’s no point in going until you know what it is you’re looking for. You wish you could figure it out by simply racking your brain, but memories, reveries don’t work like that. You’ll need someone with arcane magic to help you.

The Sending Stone is out of your pocket a moment later.

“Dal, do you have a wizard, maybe a sorcerer, available who knows Detect Thoughts?” you send.

Her response is as immediate as it is disappointing, “Leon has some experience as a sorcerer, but never learned Detect Thoughts, but can’t replace spells. No one else comes to mind. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’ll figure something out. Thank you Dal.”

Another dead end.

Fine, you think. I’ll simply wait. It’s only a few more days of being here. I can have someone back in Neverwinter help me.

The thought causes your heart to clench in fear. You had tried to avoid thinking too deeply about where you might go after this, but the thought of returning home makes you want to scream. It may not be returning home in shame– after all, you did manage to learn quite a bit– but it feels miserable.

After a few more hours of reading, ignoring the fear steadily building around you, you lay down for your nightly meditations.

That night, you dream of your previous life as a blacksmith. It’s initially a rather welcome dream, as always. Repetitive and warm, soothing all of your frustrations easily.

Then you realize that everything’s going wrong today. Your metals aren’t welding, cracks keep appearing after you quench. At first, you hate it. The additional stress to your already burdened mind is too much. But after the fourth mistake, you realize that your past-self is still going at it– a new metal, a new tool, a better form.

Right, this is who you’ve always been. You will persevere.

In the end, it’s an informative dream, and you take notes from it before you can forget. After all, if your delusions of deciphering the ring’s magic bear fruit, you will need to forge six thousand rings. You may want to learn from yourself before that.

For your twenty-fifth day in the house, you spend most of it taking your own notes.

After a quick breakfast, an even quicker wash, you’re back in front of the pile of papers, on to find another avenue for the spawn’s salvation.

You’ve always found that the easiest way for you to figure out next steps is by writing all that you know out. So you consolidate a lot of your learnings from your past-self’s notes, adding in some notes of your own context. And, as you continue to retread the notes, you start to uncover some odd patterns.

Under the diagrams of several ring designs, you spot a few symbols, ones you don’t recognize from the cipher. Once more the Sending Stone is pulled from your pocket.

“Dal, another question. What are these symbols underneath the diagrams?” you message.

You can practically hear the sigh that precedes her message, “Despite our best efforts, we never could make heads or tails of those. Even Gale had no clue.”

It piques your interest though, nudging at something in the back of your mind. “Are there any other symbols like this in my notes?” you shoot back.

“Yes, some in the enchantment notes. Others in notes of the tower,” she responds.

“Thank you, Dal.”

You go back to inspect those notes, and, sure enough, you find a different set of symbols. “What in the hells?” you speak out loud, as you recognize the one under the ring’s enchantments.

It’s the symbol of your shop– of your past life as an enchanter.

You flip back to the ring design and comprehension dawns on you. It’s the blacksmith’s initials composited into a brand, the one you used on the items you forged.

Are they referring to some of your past lives in these notes? You take a closer look, unsure of what the symbols could indicate. But as you spot the acronym of the innkeeper's inn under the tower’s notes, it all but confirms it.

You suppose they would have experienced the same lives you had, and some of the same reveries, especially around anything that might have been helpful to their life. The thought that they could have experienced memories you haven’t concerns you though. “What does this mean?” you think, tracing over the symbol with a finger.

Gods do you suddenly wish you had taken better records of your other, less interesting lives. Really, it’s your past-self’s fault for living such an exciting life. Astarion’s fault for being so damn captivating.

There’s no use in regretting now though, there are plenty of other mysteries for you to solve as you let that one ruminate.

Let’s say the daylight ring really is our best bet, you think, laying out the various diagrams. What would I need?

You know quite well at this point in your life the components of a spell. There are three component types, and the more complicated the spell, the higher likelihood that you will need to incorporate all three in greater amounts.

First, material components. Items that a spell consumes to be cast. In the case of the ring, you suspect that this is blood. A lot of it. Included in that is the blood of a vampire lord.

Second, somatic components. Hand movements to bring the weave into your spell. In this scenario, you suspect these components will be the actual crafting of the ring. Likely a complicated process, and one that you may be able to decipher from Gale’s added notes.

Third, verbal components. An incantation, a phrase, a song– anything to tie the spell to the material plane. Here, you had next to no clue where to begin. There’s not even a hint of an incantation in any of these notes, and, even if there was one in the necromancer’s notes, you don’t suppose you would be able to find it.

Looking at the three different elements laid before you, you know that your options are limited for now.

Save one.

Rhapsody. You know exactly where it is, you know exactly what it’s capable of. You could take it now and begin to find a way of transmuting it or… you could leave it. Because it’s Astarion’s blade and you’ve already taken enough from him.

He’s told you he hates it, you think, trying to rationalize your theft as you stand up.

He’s not even using it, you think, walking down the long hallway to Astarion’s room.

He probably won’t even notice it’s missing, you think, entering the room silently.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re standing in front of Rhapsody. The wicked blade seems to call to you, its allure twisted and warped by years of serving a dark lord.

It’s not Astarion’s– not truly. He hasn’t used it in almost 300 years, if Dal is to be believed. So when your hand reaches out, grasps the handle, and wraps the blade in a soft cloth, you only feel the barest twinge of guilt.

You can’t help but turn to your former self’s portrait next to the bed, wondering what they would think of all of this. The answer is clear enough by the fire you see in their eyes, the conviction in the set of their shoulders. They would want you to finish this.

Before you head back to your room with the pocketed blade, you head to the parlor. An idea struck you, courtesy of your past-self’s portrait. Perhaps the anvil in the room didn’t belong to Astarion after all. Perhaps it was just another remnant of your past-self that he’d been too afraid to throw out.

Once in the room you make your way back to the oddly shaped sheet. Throwing it off, you take a closer look at the tool.

Just as before, you notice various metalworking tools, a few pieces of metal that you think you recognize as Platinum, Iron, even a few scraps of Mithral. Almost as if Astarion had covered it with a sheet without bothering to clean up your previous work. You suspect that that’s exactly what happened when you find a pair of pliers still squeezing a piece of gold.

From your notes, you recall that your experiments with the spawn and advice from Gale had led you to believe that gold or silver would be your best bets as conduits for the magic– assuming that the metal from Rhapsody would play well with them. You recall from your reveries that not every type of metal would weld together properly.

Surely you had more material than this to work with though. You look around the room, wondering where else Astarion may have stashed your previous treasures.

Your eyes land on a covered seat that seems a bit lumpier than the rest. Upon uncovering it, you discover various small pieces of metal, some common like copper, others much rarer, like Adamantine. You grab a few, in case you do end up transmuting Cazador Szarr’s blood-infused blade.

Back in your room, you lay out some of your material components. This shall do for now. You decide that tomorrow you will focus on solving the much bigger problem: blood.

It’s late now though, and time to rest on what you’ve learned.

As you lay your head down for your reverie that night, you finally allow yourself to believe Dal. You truly may be the only one capable of piecing these clues together.

The idea warms you as much as it concerns you. Knowing that it’s up to you, your memories, to save the spawn? You feel the pressure for the first time, an uneasiness settling in the pit of your stomach. No one has depended on you like this before, and the pressure feels almost tangible.

That night, you dream of your life as the innkeeper. Again, the inn is dead, not a customer in sight and likely none for the rest of the night. So you pull out a book.

Following along with your past-self, you read a story about a beautiful man who has been cursed, the adventurer that saves him. It would all be very touching if the adventurer didn’t resonate so well with you, leaving you wondering if perhaps you were as dull and predictable a ‘hero’ as Astarion had led you to believe.

The story ends with the hero saving the man, of course– as all good, happy tales do. You love experiencing the twist with the innkeep, feeling their emotions rise and fall as the hero faces their challenge, and surmounts it with the help of those around them.

It's a nice sensation after all of the frustration of the day and you stir from your rest with a content smile.

Your twenty-sixth day in the house, you see red. On top of missing so much information, you know that you have another major dilemma to figure out: where will you find a lot of blood?

After several hours of brainstorming, considering different sources, magical substances or items, you land on one that seems the most feasible.

You could create blood with alchemy. While you would need a large amount of starting material, you could likely use water or another liquid. You yourself don’t have the capability to create water, but it would be easy enough to acquire.

But the solution seems too simple. Surely Dal and the rest would have found a way to transmute blood on their own, would have done so for the spawn at some point over the past several hundred years?

So you message her.

“Hi Dal, have you all tried transmuting water to blood before?” you send.

“Hello. Yes, we have. It would help if it worked, but it never seemed to quench our thirst.” She immediately sends another message, “When we looked into it, we found that it was lacking any life essence. We needed to find a way to make it real.”

“Understood. Did you find any leads on that?”

“None on my end, let me check with Leon.”

A few minutes of silence pass as you continue to scratch notes with your quill. You’re a bit startled when she follows up, “Nothing on Leon’s end either. Though he said that your past-self had some ideas. He recommends looking at the research on blood composition.”

You thank her and are about to get back to work when you stop, Sending Stone still in hand. Before you can second guess yourself, your next message is on its way, “How is Astarion doing? Have you… made any progress?”

The pause that follows feels incredibly loud, your heartbeat pounds painfully in your ear as you wait for a response. It comes a second later, and gods are you unsure how to move or feel or react to it. “He’s been a bit stir crazy. I think he misses you.”

You remind yourself that Dalyria is only being kind. That she is rooting for you both despite the fact that neither of you want the same thing, that he’s not over your past-self, that the odds are so heavily stacked against you you may as well try again in your next life. But the idea of Astarion missing you sends you falling back, collapsing on your bed in a dramatic fashion.

Clutching the stone to your chest, you send one more message, “Thank you Dal. I hope I can see him again before it’s time for me to leave. Do you think I will?”

“I’ll drag him along myself if I need to. And I will definitely come by before you leave,” she replies, and you close your eyes in a mixture of relief and anticipation.

Despite all of the work you’ve done in the past several days, you miss him– more than you thought possible. More than you’ve missed anyone in this lifetime. You don’t regret a single moment of the progress you’ve made, but gods do you wish you could share it with him. He would look over your work with a ‘tsk’, maybe remind you to go get a meal before you drive him insane…

Imagining the scenario, eyes closed, laying flat on your bed, you’re struck with the stark, sad reality of it. I may never have that happen.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked Dal anything after all, because now you find yourself lulled into a sad daze.

The final few hours of the day are spent on daydreams of Astarion, as you futilely try to retain information on the composition of blood. When you lay in bed for your reverie, you’re unsurprised to find yourself in his arms once more.

“Astarion?” your past-self asks. You’re both in the kitchen, though it looks nothing like it does now. The walls are a different color, the table is different, shelves are stocked.

“Mmm,” Astarion murmurs, burying his head into the nape of your neck like a cuddling feline.

“What’s the matter, love?” you ask, as you prepare yourself a meal.

He shakes his head into your neck more, and you can feel your emotions surge with love and concern. “Did something happen with your siblings?”

Astarion gives a noncommittal hum, his arms squeezing around you tighter.

“I can’t help you if you won’t let me,” you say, tone chiding, but heart still full of compassion.

The man pulls his head away from you for a moment, his ruby eyes meeting yours. “Aurelia said that they’re tired of living like that. That they would never have agreed to my suggestion of the Underdark had they known…”

Your past-self takes their food off of the stove, turning around to face Astarion. “Love,” you start, hand cupping his face. “It’s not your fault. None of it is. And they know that. What would the alternative have been? Dying in Baldur’s Gate?”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your hand for solace. “I know you’re right. But…”

“But nothing,” you say, stopping him in his tracks. “We’re doing all that we can to help them, and they appreciate it. It’s simply been a difficult few weeks and they’re on edge. Once we find someplace new, everyone will sleep a little more soundly.”

Astarion sighs into your palm, pressing a light kiss to it before opening his eyes to you. “You’re right. Gods, you know how annoying it is when you’re right this often?”

“I know,” you say with a smile. You kiss him on the nose, on the cheek, on the lips as he chases your lips down. “Now, let’s find a suitable place so that everyone settles down, alright?”

The two of you sit down at the table over your meal, beginning to discuss various areas of the Underdark. You simply listen to the conversation, already knowing the outcome, knowing how close they all truly grew despite the disagreements. You also take the time to appreciate the ease of your relationship, wishing that you too could solve problems like this, with Astarion by your side.

Your ache for the man persists when you wake up, and you find that your twenty-seventh day in the house isn’t as productive as you’d like it to be.

You’re so filled with the building fear from the week. A stormy cloud hangs over you, dousing you every few minutes with thoughts that you’re about to leave, about to be tossed out unceremoniously. It’s consumed most of your waking thoughts, offering you little space to continue your work.

You were already so afraid to be left alone for the week. To think that you may never see him again, save maybe to come help his family…

What you need is to wash these thoughts away. You decide to take a long bath today, hoping beyond all hope that it will cleanse your mind. In the bath, you allow yourself a bit of pity.

Gods, I don’t want to message my parents, you think, sinking into the water. It’s the least of your concerns, really, but the easiest one for you to focus on. What will I say? Sorry, I tried, but it turns out we’re fundamentally wrong for each other?

You wince at that, scrubbing at your skin furiously to strike the thought away. No, I would say: It turns out I’m not the same person I was in my past-life. You were right all along!

The scrubbing comes harder, and your anger builds. Or maybe I’ll pin the blame on the metaphysical… My soul has a hero-complex and I don’t quite care to fix it.

You stop scrubbing. You feel almost raw, your mind suddenly blank.

No, you finally think. I shall simply tell them it didn’t work out.

With a sigh, you continue to soak for a bit, considering the far trek back to Neverwinter with a hollow dread.

After the bath, you manage to pull yourself out of your dreary state. You focus, decide to keep your mind preoccupied with the work, shoving down any Astarion-related worries until tomorrow, when they are warranted.

Right. Blood composition, you think to yourself, pulling out the notes that Leon had mentioned once more.

Rereading them, thoroughly this time, you think you know what he meant. While at its core, transmuted blood is made of all of the same things, iron, carbon… it’s lacking something that gives it life. Likely whichever bit makes people’s blood distinct from one another, you think, recalling how Astarion had commented on your flavor.

You look through the notes, trying to see if there was a way for someone to contribute that life essence, but find that nothing clear comes to mind. At the bottom, you spot in your own handwritten code a small name, “Halsin?”

It makes sense, you think. Druidic magic is different from your own, honing into the very nature of life, they can tap into magic you cannot. Perhaps you ought to pay him a visit once Astarion kicks you out…

You push that thought aside once more, trying to focus on your research. To still your mind, you think of all of the leads you’ve earned in the past week. Your memories, your past lives, Halsin, the tower. Gods, you think. I appreciate my past-self’s head start, but I wish they’d left a to-do list.

So you run through all that you know, all that you have, and all that you will need to make these mythical sunlight rings come to fruition.

You have the metals to test the crafting, and have found several good diagrams from your past-self. You have Rhapsody to work with. All that you’re missing on the material components is a vast quantity of usable blood.

You are positive now that the crafting itself is part of the somatic component, having reread Gale’s suggestions. It’s certainly where all of the materials come together, and you think you should be able to learn the process with a bit of trial and error.

You haven’t the foggiest what the incantation might be, other than in the illegible notes from the necromancer. Or worse yet, it’s back in the tower. You decide not to worry about this part until you find a wizard to help you.

Satisfied with your learnings from the week, you’re determined to begin testing materials tomorrow– maybe try to sort out Rhapsody’s composition. None of your previous life’s tests included Rhapsody, as they’d only learned of its importance after your passing, so now is as good a time as any.

That night, you enter an uneventful reverie as the enchanter. You break down a few magic items, and try to remember what you can for when it comes time to finally melt down Rhapsody.

At the end of the week, you feel like Astarion has all but given up on you.

It’s odd, but after spending nearly 28 days in his house, it feels like your house as well. You suppose you shouldn’t get attached to that idea, since the man who owns it hasn’t said a word to you in almost a week.

And not another word of him from Dal, not a message or a sign that he even cares enough to think of you. You don’t need him to love you, as you continue to remind yourself. You only wish that your time together had meant to him even a fraction of what it meant to you.

However the man is nothing if not full of ill-timed surprises.

A knock comes at your door. Likely Dal, you think. She said she would be coming by before you left.

“Come in!” you call, not bothering to move from your place on the floor. You’re in the middle of taking notes on various metals, and you think Dal will appreciate what you’ve learned so far, so what’s the point in putting anything away.

The door opens, and you look up to see a familiar, silver-haired vampire at your door. He finds you surrounded by papers, a piece of Platinum in your hand, and knee-deep in research you just know he would hate. All of the shock and embarrassment pales in comparison to the way your entire body reacts to the sight of him.

It’s only been a week days apart, and your heart seems to be beating doubly fast to make up for lost time. Was he always this beautiful?

Yes, he has always been this beautiful, your mind answers. And this charming, and this graceful, and… you cut yourself off before you can be frozen in place.

“Astarion!” you all but scream, scrambling to shuffle papers out of his view, dropping the piece of metal. You didn’t expect him, and you’re not sure what to do, but you know he wouldn’t believe that you’re up to some light reading.

“What–” Astarion begins. He shakes his head before continuing, “You know what. I don’t care about whatever it is you’re up to.”

“You don’t?” you ask, incredulous.

“No, I don’t.” His voice is deadpan, his expression blank.

“Oh. Okay.” You’re baffled. You’d thought throughout the week of what you might do if you saw him again before you’re kicked out. And it certainly isn’t what’s transpiring here. He cared a lot about this last time you saw him. “You absolutely don’t?”

“Nope, we’re going to pretend I didn’t see all of that.” He gestures at it dramatically with both of his hands. “And I’m going to continue with what I came here to do.”

“And that is?” you can’t help but ask, still subtly kicking papers under the bed, lest he change his mind.

“I came to ask you if you’d like to go to Waterdeep with me.”

You stare at him, certain that you’re hearing him wrong. This isn’t the conversation you’d expected to have the next time you saw him, not in a thousand years. You? Go with him? “To Waterdeep?”

“Yes,” he says, taking a deep breath, as if this is all quite the inconvenience for him. “I’ve always been offered a guest. I suppose it’s about time I impose on that damn wizard.”

After what had transpired between you, you’d been so prepared to be kicked out by the end of the week, this shocks you more than you expect. You’re certain your face is an open book and your voice is certainly eager when you ask, “Really?”

“Don’t make that look, or I'll regret asking at all,” he says, groaning.

You don’t know what look you’re making, but you wipe your face as much as you can before you ask, a little less hopefully, “But honestly, really, I can join you?”

“Yes,” he repeats. “But if you make me say it once more, consider the offer revoked. I expect to see you prepared for at least a few days' stay by morning or I shall leave without you. Understood?”

You tamper down the remaining urge for confirmation and nod. “Got it.”

“Very well,” he says, turning on his heel to go.

But it’s the first time in days that you’ve seen his face, heard his voice, you can’t just let him get away. “Wait, Astarion,” you call. What could you say? ‘ Sorry?’ It wouldn’t be honest. ‘Why?’ You’re afraid that the answer is just ‘Dal.’ ‘ Are we–?’ No, you’re absolutely not all better. So you simply say, “Thank you.”

He turns back to you and you get a better look at him. The expression on his face is light, unaffected, but there’s a strain to his eyes, his cheekbones look a bit more gaunt than you’re used to, and the tightness in his jaw betrays any semblance of nonchalance. “No need to thank me. I’d already been planning on inviting you.”

What? You’re about to actually ask him why when he exits your room, leaving you confused and your questions unanswered.

Aside from the elation you feel at having seen Astarion again, let alone having received an invitation from him, you’re giddy with thoughts of Waterdeep. You’ve never been before, and you will have the opportunity to meet the Gale of Waterdeep? You feel your face breaking into the same ecstatic look Astarion chided you for.

After researching the ‘useless’ formula for the ring for so many days, you want to get to the bottom of it. This is it, you think. This is my opportunity to pick Gale’s brain. Putting aside whatever it was you’d been in the middle of before Astarion arrived, you begin packing all of your notes in your Bag of Holding.

I’ll figure it all out later, you think, practically shaking with excitement. My gods, I can’t believe it. I will get to go to Waterdeep!

Before you pack the rest of your clothing, you sit down and send a message to Dal. “Dal, Astarion invited me to Waterdeep! I’ll be gone for a bit, but I think I’ll be coming back?”

She responds and you can practically hear the smile through the message. “I figured that’s why he kept me from following him. Enjoy, and we’ll see you back here soon.”

She’ll see me back here soon! you want to scream to the heavens, out the window, under the floorboards. But you don’t because you’re not about to make Astarion change his mind, and truly you’re not certain what this means for you. Until you know why he wanted to bring you to Waterdeep, then you shouldn’t assume…

That doesn’t stop you from feeling light as a feather for the rest of the day. From practically tripping over your own feet as you pack a few snacks for the road.

You don’t see Astarion for the rest of the day, but you can feel his presence in the house, as if he’s watching you make an utter fool of yourself– you find you don’t mind. As long as the house feels full of him, you continue along, a smile never leaving your face.

That night when you sit down for bed, you pull out your journal and quill with jittery, anxious hands. Your journal entry reflects your week of learnings, of fears, of excitement:

I think I’ve made some real progress! I think I know how to make the rings, but not… how to make the rings. I know the materials I’ll need, the somatic component of creation, though I am missing the actual incantation and the actual materials. Better than I would have thought after a week, but my past-self seems to be guiding my hand every step of the way.

As for Astarion, well… I don’t think we’re better per say. But I also don’t think he hates me. He invited me to go with him to Waterdeep without much explanation. Surely he wouldn’t invite me if he hated me, right? We leave in the morning. I can’t wait to meet Gale, hopefully have a chance to ask him some things. Though I suppose it may all depend on Astarion’s mood.

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