#like I would have never dreamed of going for someone's weapon THIS early in the game for Genshin

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

it's coming....the day when I will become a Jinhsi main is soon upon us...

[catmiemy]

Not Work Day (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

Summary: Aitana and you spend a rare day off together.

A/N: This is just a silly little story I thought of a while ago and finally wrote in hopes of getting into more of a writting mood again. So many ideas and so little ability to put them on 'paper' lately...

I hope you enjoy this one! :)

Dating a professional football player wasn’t always easy. Whenever you mentioned that to anyone they usually assumed you referred to your girlfriend having to travel a lot or the lack of days off together because of conflicting schedules, or the interest the nosey media and even nosier public had in your relationship.

And sure, all of these things could be tricky at times, but there was something else that was even harder to bear; seeing your girlfriend being worked to the ground with almost no time to recuperate properly. Before you started dating Aitana you had never thought much about it, now it haunted you during the days and disturbed your dreams.

Every new injury you heard about made your stomach drop, always wondering the same thing, what if next time it would be your girlfriend going down with some horrible injury? The guilt always followed close behind, with your berating yourself for being happy in any capacity that someone else got hurt.

More often than not it was a struggle to watch Aitana’s games. You had a tendency to clench every single muscle in your body until the final whistle was blown, and you could be sure that nothing bad had happened.

For a while you did your best to keep these concerns to yourself, not wanting to make Aitana worry about you unnecessarily. Convinced that if you just wanted it enough, you would get over this.

You should have known that your girlfriend would catch on; she was too perceptive not to notice it, too concerned about your well-being to miss it.

When she did you explained somewhat reluctantly what was bothering you; the last thing you wanted was for your girlfriend to feel guilty. This wasn’t her fault at all and she shouldn’t feel bad about playing the sport she loved.

Despite your best efforts to downplay it, the first thing you saw in Aitana’s eyes once you finished your explanation was guilt. Most likely because you were looking for that emotion specifically, but in that moment you couldn’t think rationally like this. You were about to apologize, try and take it back somehow, when she asked you one simple question.

“Is there anything we can do to make you feel better about it?”

Up until that point it had never occurred to you to think about possible ways to make the situation easier for yourself. Usually your thoughts had been centered around scolding yourself for being such a worrywart. It made you oddly emotional that Aitana took you this seriously and didn’t dismiss your concerns.

Neither of you found a satisfying answer to the question that night, but over time you came up with something that helped, a tradition that you called ‘not work days’. 

On one of these ‘not work days’ you were awoken by Aitana trying to get up. Without opening your eyes you reached out to grab her wrist and pull her back into bed. You were met by some resistance, forcing you to open your eyes and scowl at the brunette.

“Hey, you work or not work?” You asked, leaving no room for interpretation what the correct answer was.

Aitana rolled her eyes at you, but relented, snuggling back into you much to your delight. You wrapped your arms around her and buried your face in her shoulder.

“I’m never going to be free of that stupid phrase, am I?” She grumbled.

“Nope,” you agreed, “And now hush, it’s way too early to be up on a not work day.”

You felt some lingering tenseness in your girlfriend’s body, apparently she wasn’t fully ready yet to commit to resting some more. It was time to pull out your magic weapon; you began gently tracing small circles in the space between Aitana’s eyebrows. It worked like a charm. Within seconds the brunette fell back asleep and you let yourself drift off as well.

The next time you woke up it was on your own accord, like you hoped it would be. Usually when you managed to get your girlfriend back to sleep she didn’t wake up again until late in the morning. In your mind a clear indication that the Spaniard needed this extra rest.

You allowed yourself to linger in bed a little longer to hold Aitana in your arms and watch her sleep. It was rare for her to be still if she was awake, always moving around, busy with one thing after another.

Mostly the midfielder loved it and was happy with her life, but sometimes it became all too much. She had confided in you a while back that being with you had helped her to finally find a healthy balance in her life. That was without a doubt the biggest compliment anyone had ever given you.

After a few more minutes you placed a soft kiss on your girlfriend’s forehead, before carefully extracting yourself and moving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Breakfast in bed was a staple of the not work days..

You hummed happily to yourself while you made an omelet, mixed a smoothie and cut up some cherry tomatoes. And of course you couldn’t forget about the coffee! When everything was ready you walked back to the bedroom, ready to wake up Aitana with some gentle cuddles.

However, your plan was thwarted. You opened the door and instantly spotted your girlfriend on her cell phone. This in itself wasn’t a problem, but the way she had crunched up her nose and her eyebrows were knitted together, revealed to you that she was most likely looking at something work related. She looked too stressed for this to be anything else.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, “This is a not work day!”

You expected the Catalan to smile at you apologetically, instead a huge grin appeared on her face and she turned her phone around. It took a moment until you realized why she had done that; your girlfriend was recording the entire interaction and apparently she thought this was hilarious.

“Haha, very funny,” you grumbled, “I really thought you were working already.”

“I know, you should have seen your face,” Aitana replied between laughter, “Oh wait, you can. Come over here, mi amor.” She patted the bed next to her, but you remained standing. You would have crossed your arms, but the breakfast tray was stopping you from doing so.

“Don’t be like that, mi amor. I’m only giving back what you’ve been handing out. Or do I have to remind you how often you’re sending me that stupid ‘You work or not work’ video? How you even added some cute animal pictures to the beginning of it, so I wouldn’t recognize right away what clip it is? You violated the sanctity of cute animal pictures!”

The midfielder sounded so scandalized by this that you couldn’t help but crack a smile. You shuffled over to the bed, leaning over to give your girlfriend a good morning kiss. Just like you hoped this successfully distracted her from the stupid video she had recorded because you had no interest in watching it. You were admittedly better at teasing than being teased.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Aitana asked, tucking into her breakfast. “This is so good by the way.”

“No plans, we just do whatever you want to do,” you responded, deliberately ignoring her praise. Dealing with compliments also wasn’t one of your strengths.

“Whatever I want?” The Catalan asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Everything that’s within the rules of not work days,” you clarified.

“But coming up with ideas is work too,” your girlfriend complained.

“My poor baby! Okay, here are some ideas; we can bundle up on the couch and watch a movie, we can make cookies, we can take a walk in the rain…”

“Yes! Let’s take a walk in the rain,” Aitana interrupted, her choice surprising you. The midfielder wasn’t known for liking the rain, in fact she made no secret of how much she hated the rain.

“Really?” You double-checked.

Your girlfriend nodded, “Yeah, you made it sound so romantic a few days ago. Both of us under one umbrella, the rain pattering on it, huddling close together for warmth. Sounds like a movie scene.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.”

The two of you got ready, Aitana putting on much more clothes than you. Normally you would tease your girlfriend about it, but you didn’t want to risk her remembering the video she had taken earlier.

In the beginning the walk was actually romantic. The sound of the pitter patter on the umbrella was soothing, especially with how quiet and deserted the roads were. You breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of rain. Aitana was snuggling into your side and when you looked over she had a soft smile on her lips.

Before too long however, you noticed that your girlfriend clung a little too strongly to you and she was dragging her feet. This time when you glanced her way you were met by an unhappy expression, though it quickly morphed into a forced smile as soon as Aitana noticed your eyes on her.

You pulled her to a stop. “What is it, babe?”

“My feet are wet,” the Catalan whined.

Your eyes snapped to her feet. Your girlfriend was wearing her favorite and already pretty worn sneakers. It wasn’t really surprising that they weren’t able to withstand the rain anymore.

“Then let’s go back home,” you stated, already turning around and tugging Aitana’s hand to follow you.

“No, I don’t want to ruin this.”

You turned to face the midfielder again, cupping her cheek with your free hand.

“And I don’t want you to be miserable, or worse get sick. And anyway this is your not work day, so you should only do things you’re enjoying.”

Aitana nuzzled slightly into your palm, smiling up at you. “Okay, but I disagree, it’s our not work day.”

You walked back rapidly to your apartment and when you got there you sent the brunette to the bedroom with the instruction to change into something comfy and get rid of her wet socks.

“Don’t put on other ones though! I have something for you,” you added.

A few minutes later you met Aitana back at the couch, a cup of tea in one hand and the other one hidden behind your back. Your girlfriend craned her neck, trying to sneak a peek, but you didn’t allow it.

“Show meeeee,” the Catalan begged.

You followed the request, showing her the fluffy socks you had bought a while back. A huge smile spread across Aitana’s face as she saw them.

“They look so comfortable. Thank you! But how did you know I would need them?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t. I just bought them randomly for a not work day. It’s pure luck that you got wet feet today.”

“Or maybe this was all part of an elaborate evil plan to get me to undress my feet in front of you,” Aitana joked.

“You got me there. That’s why I raved about walks in the rain and that’s why I suggested it this morning. I even sabotaged your shoes,” you explained with a serious face.

Your girlfriend giggled happily. “I guess in that case you’ve earned the right to put on the new socks and give me a foot rub afterwards,” she said, sticking her feet out towards you.

“How generous of you!” You exclaimed, quickly putting on the fluffy socks.

Then you went to sit down next to Aitana to give her the requested foot rub, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw the midfielder glaring at you.

“Everything okay?” You asked uncertainly.

“No!” The brunette cried out, making your heart beat faster; what had you done wrong? “I need you to change into comfortable clothes as well. This doesn’t look like a good outfit to relax in.”

You looked down yourself and only now realized that you were still wearing jeans. “Oh, I guess you’re right.”

Before you got a change to move away, Aitana caught your hand and pulled you in for a kiss. “Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t realize it would actually make you anxious,” she apologized. “And now go, I need my girlfriend to warm me up.”

You were happy to oblige, hurrying to the bedroom.

“And can you bring the laptop back with you? I’m in the mood for some online shopping,” Aitana shouted after you.

You were happy to do so since it signified that your girlfriend had fully gotten into the swing of the not work day. It was always the same; in the beginning she didn’t know what she wanted to do, but as time progressed the midfielder became more attuned to her own desires that she so often put on the back burner.

On your return you handed Aitana the laptop before plopping down by her feet, taking them in your lap for the promised foot rub. You hadn’t even started yet, when your girlfriend let out a surprise “Oh”, pulling her feet back and scooting closer to you instead.

“What are these?” She asked, showing you the screen with your last internet search. It had completely slipped your mind what you had been looking at the day before.

“Dresses,” you offered up dryly.

“Yeah, I can see that. Any special occasion?” Aitana probed.

“You know the answer to that. It’s not every day you get to accompany your girlfriend to an award show for the best football players in the world,” you replied nervously; although you didn’t know why you felt nervous about this.

“Aw, I really appreciate that!” Your girlfriend cooed, her eyes flickering over the screen, “Can I help pick?”

You nodded; that had always been the plan. Since this was the first time you were going along as Aitana’s partner you wanted to look your best, so another opinion was definitely needed.

“Some of them are pretty expensive,” the Catalan mentioned carefully.

Money had always been a touchy subject between the two of you. Aitana had a lot more of it than you did; still you didn’t feel comfortable with constantly letting her pay, insisting that you took turns. The brunette wasn’t too happy about that, but by now you had found some middle ground, usually going to less expensive places when it was your turn to pay.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you dismissed Aitana’s concern, “And I want to look worthy of my girlfriend. You know she’s currently the best football player in the world?”

“You sound so proud of me.”

Atiana’s voice was oddly quit; it made you wonder if she doubted that you were proud of her. You thought back to the last few games and realized with a start that you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually said these words. This way worrying, especially considering your girlfriend had a hard time believing things unless she heard them over and over again.

“That’s because I am,” you responded firmly, vowing to do better.

“Even if it makes you anxious?” The brunette wondered.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Let’s be honest, no matter what job you had, I would always be anxious about something. That’s the annoying thing about anxiety; it’ll always find something else to worry about.”

Aitana looked up at you hopefully, “So you don’t hate that I’m a footballer?”

“What? No, of course not! And I’m sorry if I made you feel like that,” you apologized.

“Well that’s good then,” your girlfriend announced, a smirk appearing on her face, “But hey, is working out issues even allowed on a not work day? Or did you just break your own rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course it’s allowed and since they’re my rules, I can change them whenever I want.”

Aitana raised her eyebrows, fighting to keep her face neutral, “Oh really, is that how it works?”

“Yes,” you nodded sagely.

A devilish grin appeared on your girlfriend’s face, and too late you recognized your mistake.

“In that case I’m making my own rules as well and decide that I get to buy you this blue dress.” She pointed to the one that was your absolute favorite, but that was also firmly out of your price range.

“Aitana,” you groaned, “That’s not how it works!”

“Oh? If you can make up random rules, so can I,” the Catalan pointed out, daring you to disagree with her.

“That’s not the same at all. I don’t want you to spend money on my clothes,” you argued

“Why not? If you think about it, I’ll get to appreciate your dress much more than you. I can admire you in it all night long, and maybe I’ll even get to take if off of you. And this dress will look stunning on you; it will really bring out your eyes.”

“Fine”, you relented, making your girlfriend squeal happily. There was one more thing to say though, so you stopped Aitana’s over the top celebration with one hand. “But this means you can only get me something small for my birthday.

“Okay,” the midfielder agreed suspiciously quickly.

“And I mean that, Tana!” You doubled down.

Your girlfriend nodded, but seemed to be only half-listening, too busy adding the dress to your cart. You would just have to bring it up again when your birthday was closer because you wouldn’t be budging on that.

After Aitana successfully ordered the dress, she leaned back with a content sigh.

“I really love these not work days, you know?”

Your heart leapt happily at that concession.  “Me too, babe.”

Sometimes you wished you got more of them, but maybe not having them all the time made them extra special.

[thehandsresisthim]

“tranquility”

contains: yandere link (botw/totk) x reader, nothing too explicit, but still 18+, ise-kaid reader but it kinda just starts when you’re already in hyrule, maybe i’ll post the next ‘chapters’ the following weeks if i remember to ehem

word count: ~1400

You and him find a secluded spot in the woods to spend the night.

He thoroughly scouts out the immediate area for a moment, making sure that there are no monsters around.

It’s late into the night, almost midnight, so he hurries up preparing everything - not that there’s much to prepare. But he lights a fire, and he puts down his bedroll, and he tells you to use it. He’ll keep watch, he tells you.

“Is this really okay?” you say in a tired voice.

He nods. “I bet you’re not used to sleeping on the ground.”

“Mmh.” you would argue further, but you’re so tired that you don’t protest, just lay down. It’s not as bad as you thought. He insisted on making sure there were no rocks beneath the bedroll, not even the tiniest thing - smooth ground all the way. You pull the thin covers over you and rest your head on the pillow. You don’t close your eyes yet, however.

He looks at you and smiles. “Sleep well.”

Quickly after, you fall asleep.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

It’s early morning, around four, when you wake again. He’s laying next to you, arms tightly wrapped around you, right hand placed beneath your shirt, on your back. His hand feels surprisingly soft, although some of the callousness you’d expect due to his, uh, living circumstances, is also there. He’s breathing softly, and definitely asleep. His sword and other weapons are placed right next to the bed roll.

You find yourself not knowing how to react. Although this is definitely a bit forward, he did lend you his bedroll, and has been so, so nice to you so far. If not for him… you don’t know how you would’ve gotten along in this world. Probably gobbled up by some monsters. He deserves some rest too…

A voice - his voice - snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Darling…”

You notice that he’s sleeping - breathing as softly and evenly as before, hand still located on your back. Perhaps he is dreaming about his lover? You hope that this isn’t one of those dreams. That’d be really weird. But you guess that even if that’s so - not like that’d be his fault. He can’t help what he’s dreaming about.

“‘M… never… going to let you go,” he continues.

You can’t help but smile a little. Yes, you decide, he’s definitely dreaming about a lover. You wonder if you’ll ever meet them. You fall asleep again.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

It’s later in the morning when you wake up again.

You stretch and yawn. He gives you a friendly nod once he sees that you’re awake and waves at you.

“Good morning!” you say.

He smiles back at you, then turns back to the fireplace. He seems to be grilling the mushrooms he collected yesterday. You smile at the smell and get up from the bedroll.

He’s wearing his armour, and all of his weapons on him. You remember that he did wear his armour in bed with you - you felt the metal on his shoulders pressed against your chest - he must’ve put the weapons back on. It only makes sense, after all.

You can’t help but think of him sleeping next to you… he seems to be unbothered by it. Maybe it’s just a common thing among travellers? You decide to not think anything else of it.

You fold the blanket and the pillow, and roll up the bedroll. You have to bend over to pick up the bedroll, and you feel like he glances over at you for a moment as you do so…

Snap out of it! you tell yourself. He’s probably just making sure that you’re folding it up correctly. Besides, if you’re going with the dream he had earlier, he's already got someone else, so don’t get your hopes up!

You place all the parts of the makeshift bed together. He doesn’t look at you again, but rather, seems to stare at the fire and continue preparing the mushrooms.

You decide that since he’s made sure that the area is safe just last night, some mild exploring might do you some good. The noise of your steps is overshadowed by the cackling fire and muffled by the dampness of the forest floor.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

After a few more minutes of roasting the mushrooms over the fire, he stretches a little and decides to sit down. As he stares into the fire, he reflects on last night. Admittedly, laying down next to you was a bit forward…

But then again. He allowed you to travel with him, although you’re slower, and he allowed you to sleep on his bedroll. And he defended you against the monsters, and he’s making you food right now. He deserves a bit of comfort, doesn’t he?

‘Hopefully, the bedroll will keep her scent for a while.’ he catches himself thinking. ‘If she’s always with me… then I’ll never have to worry about that…’ a part of his mind continues.

He catches himself staring into the flames and entertaining the thought. He imagines you living with him, in a house built by him, near a village of your choosing. He imagines you and him sleeping next to each other, perhaps even more entangled together than last night.

He could make you food. Maybe you could keep horses. He could use his strong arms and knowledge of weapons for something other than fighting. Although… if someone were to get too close to you… He’ll make sure to never forget how to properly handle people like that.

But there’s a certain tranquillity in thinking about how everyday life would be with you.

You and him could design a house together: you said you’d like to stargaze, so obviously, there’d be a large balcony.

It could connect to the bedroom; he imagines a big bed where you can sleep on the proper mattress that you deserve. Next to him, of course. He could build it himself. He knows that he’s rather strong; so, since he wants it to be a place where he can have you all to himself, he’ll need to make sure that the bed is built in a way to be able to keep up with that. And it’ll need a big canopy - a physical thing to keep out the outside world. He’ll get to keep you all to himself there.

And he’ll build you a nice big closet, so that you can keep all the luxurious clothes he’ll buy for you. He wonders what you’d like to wear… He thinks about buying you jewellery. Small amber earrings. A necklace… perhaps one of those tight ones, that would go around your neck. And he’d make sure that you have a ring on, too, just like he will. He wants you to have a closet full of pretty clothes. Maybe you’d ‘steal’ some of his too… you in his tunic… he smiles at the thought. You, in the morning, perhaps still slightly sleepy - quickly getting out of bed, searching for something to wear. Maybe you’d just quickly slip on some of his clothes. You’d sit on a nearby chair and smile at him. And there’d be a big desk for you to paint and craft and write by.

You’d also want a nice bathroom, probably. A really modern one, where you could shower… perhaps with him. And it’d need a bathtub, too!

And he’d make sure to build a strong, big staircase… it could lead right into the living room. He’d like a kitchen area that would connect to the living room… just a big open space. So that he can always watch you. You could cook together, and he’d make all your favourite meals. And he’d make sure that you’d have a big sofa, to cuddle on and hang out on and maybe indulge in other activities there too.

The windows would be big and open, to always let the sun in.

And maybe, if you’d like it, you’d keep horses. He wonders what you’d name yours. He could teach you how to ride… maybe help you catch one. Or maybe you’d only have one horse, and he’d never teach you to ride, so that you’d always have to rely on him to get around. So that he’d always be around you. And you’d sit behind him on his horse, and he’d purposely ride a little faster than you’re used to, and you’d hold onto his waist.

He finds himself smiling. The thought makes him feel warm inside, in a way that he’s not used to. He thinks that you must be feeling hungry, so he picks up one of the mushroom skewers from the fireplace. He turns around to face you. His smile falls. You’re not there.

i swear if i was isekai-d (?) to hyrule i’d be killed for blasphemy in seconds - “lmao weak ass goddess hylia needing a nine year old to fight her battles for h-“ *gets struck down by lightning*

uhhh enough babbling hope you enjoyed ❤️ comments and likes are always appreciated, same as reblogs of course!! master list is here :)

18+ short fic abt link warming your strap is here if that suits your fancy hehe

[sweetypouch]

Try Again

Mr. Crawling

Synopsis: Maybe in another lifetime, he could finally stay with you.

Fluff (I want to cry)

Reincarnated!Au

School!Au

Mr. Crawling as a human school boy

Grammar errors (?)

Shortest one I wrote so far

Word count: 848

Being a normal student was just as boring as it gets, yet no matter how much you turn things around, it was still weird how someone could like you. Your personality is just the same as others, you never tried to gain much attention at school, and you weren't someone considered as 'beautiful', to say the least, you were just average.

So why is there someone confessing right in front of you? As he patiently waits for your response, the poor boy's trembling hands held out a love letter to you, with lots of hand-drawn hearts that you assumed he doodled down.

All you could think about was, "Why?"

He was confused at first, tempted to make a clear point by repeating his sentence once again. The blush on his face never seemed to go away, it only became redder than before.

To him, you were his everything. He doesn't want to waste his time any more! Not in this lifetime!

Even if you like someone, he wouldn't take it as a no. He was given a chance to make things right, to make you stay, to make you love him. Even if you push him away, it could never make his feelings for you fade away, no one can make him stop.

Maybe you just didn't recognize him, after all, almost everything about him changed, except for his memory.

The news definitely didn't reach you. About the intense shaking that happened in the other world, it erased all that has been there like it never existed, including him and the others. He never expected death to make its way to him and he never expected it to end just like that, it was welcoming but he chose not to let it wrap him up, because you're not with him. If given the chance, he wants to live another life with you, and no words could ever tell what miracle lies ahead, all because of his undying love for you.

The next thing he knew, he's back, with a new body, but his spirit and mind were kept inside him, with you forever engraved in it.

He was more than happy that he could finally make himself look more loveable, so you can finally stay and have your eyes directed only on him. He was not scary anymore, he finally had his eyes visible and his skin was just the same color as yours, however, his hair was still the same, and the good thing is he could finally speak in a language you would finally understand. It was all a dream come true!

When he finally found you, he couldn't control himself anymore and tried everything he could to be close to you, without being too forceful or insisting, of course. He doesn't want to reveal his self too early to you. His 'loyal dog' attitude coming back to its senses when he finally found you. His sudden existence was more than weird considering that he was titled as the new student in your class. He reminded you of someone you wish to see again, someone you loved so much that it hurts.

Just try to take a closer look, I'm sure you'll notice the same scar you made when you slashed him with the crowbar, it was painful but it was like a welcoming gift coming from you; a painfully sweet memory of when he first met you.

His towering figure stood still as the wind brushed his hair away, revealing a scar you never noticed he had. His eyes kept its focus only to you, a soft glimmer inside it, dictating just how serious he is.

That gaze...most people would feel scared by how intense he is, but all you can feel is a sense of longing in it, something deeper than any ocean, and something stronger than any tough weapon.

It was probably rude to compare a human to a non-human, but something about him makes them very identical, you just couldn't find the perfect words to describe it.

The only thing you can feel right now is the feeling you've always wanted to feel once again. There's no point in denying it, there was something about him that pulls you even more to that bittersweet mixture of emotions, the feeling was like when you just found the last piece of the hardest puzzle.

Without realizing it, your hands gently took the letter out of his hands, the smile you just formed was a breath-taking view to him. It was beautiful.

He would sacrifice his own identity to you, only if it means to see that smile every day.

He chuckled when you blushed back, taking the letter means yes and it was hard to resist so he gave in and wrapped you in his arms, a familiar warmth that really adds up to your theory, could it be that heaven created a replica of someone you loved? Just for you to try again and make things right? The thought of it sounds ridiculous enough but if it's possible to come true....

Would you love him in every universe?

[devildom-moss]

May poll story

NSFW - Asmodeus x Solomon x MC

(Asmodeus x Solomon x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (switchy overall but slightly sub!Solomon) (poly/threesome) (no penetration; oral - receiving; handjob - Asmo giving Solomon; dry humping; so much kissing; light praise; bondage; facial; cum eating; photos; lots of teasing; marking/hickeys; "master" for Solomon by Asmo; voyeurism; no reader/MC sex organs specified)

Word Count: +4,400

Asmo was hosting an intimate Asmo Night with his two favorite humans. Some nights, he simply wanted a bit of attention from you both – affection from two people he knew adored him for who he was. Fans were nice, but he wanted to be around someone he had feelings for, and in your case, his love was so intense it almost matched his love for himself. A relaxing sleepover with you and Solomon seemed like the perfect way to get his fill of adoration.

As usual, Asmo was a wonderful host, preparing games, activities, and an abundance of snacks – although the latter was planned, in part, to dissuade Solomon from attempting to cook. If Solomon had brought homemade food, that would have ruined the entire night.

With a long night ahead of you, Asmo sipped his Demonus slowly, fearing intoxication; there would be other nights to get drunk around either of you, but tonight, he wanted to feel in control of everything – to savor every word, look, and sensation that he eagerly anticipated. Asmo wanted to remember the way Solomon’s eyes darted between his body and yours as the two of you danced to music he had put on – the way his gaze felt hungry like some vicious predator in that moment and how Solomon had smothered his desire as the song came to an end, trying not to initiate something so early in the night. He wanted to fully enjoy the warmth of your lips on his neck when you lost the card game that Solomon insisted be made a little more interesting by turning it into a punishment game – no doubt hoping luck would be on his side tonight, especially with Barbatos not in attendance. You were all too happy to agree to Asmo’s – slightly restrained – punishment. All he wanted was for you to leave a hickey on him in a place where everyone would see it. Out of all the things Asmo could have asked for, that almost seemed innocent. Asmo wanted to engrave the praise you and Solomon gave him when he put on an impromptu fashion show. Your words were honey-sweet, pooling on your tongues so enticingly that he could hardly resist kissing both of you and tasting the words in his mouth.

Later in the night, Asmo stretched, letting out a soft little moan, and got up. “I was thinking – maybe we could all take a nice long bath together, hmm~? My bath is big enough for all of us. What do you think?”

Solomon scoffed and shook his head, seeing right through Asmo’s offer. “No thanks. You just want to get us both naked.”

“Well, of course, hun. Can’t blame a demon for trying, can you~?” Asmo winked. “What about you, MC?”

“You’re really going to leave me all alone in your room? That’s hardly good hosting etiquette.” Solomon cocked his head to the side, as if it was a veiled threat. “Besides, if you two bathe alone together, who knows how long you’ll be in there.”

“Ugh, Solomon! You’re such a meanie!” Asmo huffed. “You won’t let me get a good look at that body of yours, and now you want to keep MC all to yourself.”

“By all means,” Solomon shrugged, “leave me to my own devices – unsupervised in your room. Or maybe I’ll go prepare a snack while you two add unnecessary steps to getting clean.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone, Solomon!” you interjected quickly. He knew his cooking was universally considered a weapon, didn’t he? You’d never put it in such harsh words – but he had to understand that, right? “Besides, you’ll only get into trouble if you’re on your own for too long.”

Asmo caught your eyes, silently thanking you for sparing him – and everyone else in the House of Lamentation for that matter. “Anyway~ I’ll be back. Behave, you two.”

As Asmo made a hasty escape, Solomon smirked at you. “You don’t really think I’m so troublesome that I can’t be left alone, do you?”

It was clear to him that you had lied; after all, he knew his adorable apprentice inside and out. There was little that you could hide from him, but his self-confidence and desire wiped Solomon’s memory of his threat of extra-strength food poisoning; the only reason you wanted to stay with him that remained was because you were hoping for some alone time together. Solomon got up from Asmo’s hanging chair and walked over to you.

“Are you not troublesome?” you teased, inching over on the edge of the bed so Solomon could sit next to you.

Solomon chuckled, shook his head, and put one knee up on the bed next to your thigh. “Would you like me to be?”

“Meaning?” You gave Solomon a confused look, but as he straddled your lap and extended his arms behind your head, you knew exactly what he meant. Your eyes unintentionally darted towards Asmo’s bathroom door, worried that he would suddenly return.

“Fool around with me,” Solomon got closer and whispered in your ear, bringing your attention back to him.

“I don’t know, Sol.” It seemed mean to Asmo: making out – or more – with someone else in his bed while he was busy, especially on an Asmo night. If he walked in, saw that, and realized he wasn’t included, you thought, “Asmo might get pouty.”

Solomon’s low, gentle laugh rang in your ear before he began to kiss down your neck. “He’ll like it, trust me.”

Each kiss was slow and deliberate, aiming to leave his mark on you. Perhaps Solomon needed a way to remedy his jealousy from when you gave Asmo a hickey earlier – or perhaps he was simply overcome by his underlying desire to mark you as his own. Either way, Solomon continued to suck and nip down your skin until he was satisfied with his work. His hot breath, saliva, and the sweet moans that escaped his lips as he squirmed in your lap sent shivers up your spine. By the time he pulled away, your heart was racing.

“Oh!” Solomon grinned, took his wand out from his back pocket, and gave it a quick wave. You furrowed your brows; Solomon replaced his wand just as quickly as he had pulled it out. He brought his finger up to his lips and whispered, “had to cast a secret spell.”

“And you wonder why people think you’re shady? What did you do?” you laughed.

“I cast a spell to warm up Asmo’s towels for when he’s done with his bath.” Your heart melted immediately – only to feel jolted as Solomon added, “now, where were we?”

Solomon took advantage of the quickly-fading charm of his sweetness to push you on your back with a grin on his face. He leaned down close but hesitated slightly – waiting for any sign of resistance. “Please” formed silently on his lips, grazing yours in a chaste kiss, touching you lightly like a devotee may trace the outlines of an altar. You were sacred to Solomon; in all his years, he had never met another creature he regarded as so holy. No demon nor angel could have his worship like this. Every prayer that fell from Solomon’s lips was an act of love and devotion. Across all three realms, only you had given Solomon something worthy of divine adoration.

He could only hope that his reverence would translate, transcribed on your hallowed body with his lips and tongue. Solomon’s kisses grew deeper and more desperate, as if he was starved of your affection and intended to gorge himself on whatever love you offered. Nothing could come between him and his communion – not even the demon standing in the doorframe to the bathroom.

Kisses trailed down your neck as Solomon’s hand made its way under the hem of your shirt, teasing your bare skin with his fingertips. When he had buried himself in the crook of your neck, you could tell from his eagerness and attention to one particular area that he intended to mark you. Your brows knit together, but the ecstasy of Solomon’s lips was interrupted by the gentle biting feeling of someone else’s eyes on you, so you turned your gaze to the bathroom door.

Asmo’s eyes were half-lidded, and a seductive smirk sat on his face when he finally caught your eye. He held your gaze intently, as if determined to pull your attention away from Solomon for as long as he could. Only when Solomon panted hotly against your neck and softly, slowly dragged his nails along your stomach so lightly that your skin was as unaffected as a brilliant sapphire brushed over by a raven’s feather, causing you to shiver and gasp, did Asmo feel a compelling tinge of jealousy. His smile dropped, briefly slipping into a pout, before he resolved himself and strutted towards the two precious humans playing around in his bed.

Solomon felt Asmo’s presence, but he refused to acknowledge him until Asmo ran a lovely hand up Solomon’s back with an amused hum. “Just how far were you planning to go in my bed?”

“As far as I could,” Solomon admitted with a chuckle, sitting up and pressing his back against Asmo’s hand. “Problem?”

“May~be~” Asmo sang sweetly. “Depends on whose cute little idea this was. MC?”

“Solomon said you’d like it,” you blurted out under the scrutiny of Asmo’s honey-sweet tone. Solomon feigned offense and got off you so he could get a better look at Asmo, who was standing in a lovely pink silk robe decorated with red spider lilies and blood spatter, along with a matching bonnet.

“Betraying your own teacher?” Asmo hummed. “That’s my MC.”

“Yours?” Solomon scoffed and playfully added, “that mark on their neck isn’t your handiwork.”

You could feel the tension building in the room as Asmo’s affectionate stare turned from you towards Solomon with an inhuman wickedness – devious and sexy in a way that caused Solomon to shiver excitedly. Asmo cooed, “oh, poor Solomon. An appetizer sits in the stomach all the same, doesn’t it? I think MC’s had their fill of you, darling. I’m so gorgeous, I’m obviously the main course and dessert; isn’t that right, MC?”

The sense that Solomon and Asmo were trying to stake their claim on you was muddied by the seductive overtones and lustful stares they offered each other. Solomon was about to sit up and pull Asmo into a forceful, dominating kiss when Asmo snapped his fingers. The vines of roses that adorned Asmo’s bed shot out and quickly restrained Solomon, pulling him back towards the headboard.

At first, Solomon chuckled and weakly tugged against the vines, putting on a show of struggling. When he did, he felt the vines wind around him more – stronger than before. Solomon looked surprised and tried a low-level unbinding spell to loosen the restraints, but it only backfired. The vines moved further up his arms, and one slipped around his waist. Solomon could feel faint traces of his own magic imbued in the vines now, causing the roses to glow a soft pink. Panic flashed in his eyes briefly as he realized what Asmo had done, but it dissolved into amusement and arousal.

“Lucifer has some very interesting books on how to deal with powerful sorcerers,” Asmo giggled at Solomon. “You can struggle, but that will only make it worse. Only the caster can undo the spell.”

“Asmo!” You sat up in protest. That seemed a bit excessive. However, your concern for Solomon melted when he met your eyes with a soft smile.

“It’s fine,” he reassured you.

“Besides,” Asmo interjected, gently turning your head back to face him, “if he was against it, he’d use his pact on me and be free right away. Trust me.”

You did; you trusted them both, and so when Asmo slowly pushed you back down on the bed, you let him. His charm didn’t work on you the way it did with others, but it was so easy to allow yourself to slip under Asmo’s seductive spell. He was so lovely as he pushed your shirt up and slowly kissed down your stomach, brushing his lips over the places Solomon’s fingers had dared to touch. Solomon may have tried to claim you first tonight, but Asmo was determined to overwrite every bit of Solomon’s seduction until the only man you could think of was him; he was the Avatar of Lust, after all. Asmo was programmed to make you come undone at his hands.

Every kiss and puff of air that left Asmo made you tremble and shiver until your hand found his bedsheets and bunched the soft threads against your palm. He heard your movements and giggled, lifting his head slightly and staring up at you seductively. Your body continued to shake under his gaze despite the momentary relief from the pleasure of his lips on your skin. He sat up, removed his bonnet, and chucked it to the floor. Asmo gently loosened your tight grip around his sheets and held your hand briefly before bringing it up to his lips, leaving a lingering, sensual kiss on the tops of your fingers. Slowly, Asmo moved your hand up to his slightly damp hair and guided your hand into a ball until you were gripping it. “Be as rough or as gentle as you need.”

Asmo lowered himself back down to your body until his hair tickled your bare skin, leaving small pools of water where his hair touched you or where droplets fell. The cool sensation of drying water was juxtaposed with Asmo’s hot mouth as his kisses got slower, sloppier, and sexier. He kissed you like he was devouring a dessert with all the lewd sexiness of an adult streamer. The intimacy of it felt overwhelming. Each motion was a clear sign of affectionate dedication. Asmodeus, Avatar of Lust, would go to war for your pleasure and make all forms of perverse, depraved, and beautiful love for your safety. His entire world was you and Solomon in his bed right now, and nothing short of the catastrophic end of all three realms would dare interrupt his blissful peace.

His delicate and thoughtful touches convinced you that Asmo had every intention of unraveling you with his mouth. Even Solomon could sense it as he watched on in amusement. You began to feel self-conscious and needy. Choosing to attempt a diversion, you whined and squirmed away from Asmo’s touch, but he only followed your movements with intensified desire. He knew you were loving this, and if you wanted to pause, you’d have to muster up all your strength and use your words. Whimpering his name, you interrupted his ceremonious flood of devotion. “Asmo, please, wait. I should be spoiling you.”

“Nonsense,” Asmo chuckled, licking a long stripe up your stomach before continuing, “letting me turn you on is spoiling me.”

 Asmo pecked your lips lovingly, staring at you with overflowing adoration as he pulled away. It was almost unbearable. He pulled at every defense, like loosening the soft, satin ribbon of a corset, determined to undo your strength and set you at ease. With a heated smirk, Asmo looked up at you from between your thighs. Your clothes were disheveled – pants pulled unevenly around your hips, shirt pushed up to your chest, underwear peeking out over your pants, yet still exposing part of your ass. The only way you could look sexier, Asmo thought, was if he could get you out of those clothes, but he was far too eager and would settle for getting you out of your underwear.

Maintaining eye contact, Asmo slid your pants further down, and you lifted your legs to help him. They were tossed across the room as far as Asmo could manage while he was still fixated on you. He bent down to kiss your bare thigh, tickling you with his breath as he giggled. Mischievous as ever, Asmo quickly swiped his tongue over the wet spot on your underwear. The whimper he pulled from your lips delighted his ears.

“I love you,” Asmo whispered, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh once more. The tenderness in his voice melted your thoughts and stalled your tongue so that his declaration went unanswered – not that Asmo needed a reply when he pulled back and looked at you splayed beneath him. If this was not an act of love between you, then love must be more myth than reality.

Your underwear was discarded on the bed next to Solomon’s thigh – Asmo’s subtle attempt to tease him: leaving your damp underwear in his line of sight, just out of reach. Solomon tugged against his restraints with an annoyed sigh only for the vines to snap right back into place.

In a gentle display of strength, Asmo lifted you and repositioned your body so that you were laying with your head at the foot of the bed. On his knees, he looked down at you again. If only you were wearing my shirt, too, he thought. When Asmo bent down to kiss your inner thighs, Solomon was graced with the sight of Asmo’s gorgeous ass – a show that Asmo was well aware he was putting on, evidenced by the subtle roll of his hips as he moaned against your skin. If he wasn’t doing it on purpose, then he was too sexual for his own good.

The feeling of soft lips, hot breath, and vibrating moans melted every thought in your mind, and just seconds before a plea for more escaped your lips, Asmo pulled away. You whimpered, making an almost pathetic sound. Asmo giggled, thrilled by your cute desperation. “Ready for more, luv?”

“Mhmm.” You looked down at him, catching his burning gaze. He was loving this. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of Solomon staring at you just as intensely. His cheeks flushed bright pink from the sound of your voice alone, but even the obscured sight of you on your back, waiting for Asmo’s next move so eagerly and obediently, had him throbbing in his pants.

“Good,” Asmo sighed in relief. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Asmo sunk down further than before, kissing you quickly before giving you a gentle lick. You gasped, and he rewarded you by sticking out his tongue, wet with saliva, and leaving it against you for a few seconds as he giggled, allowing you to simply feel the warm slick of his mouth.

Lust – as a pure essence – seeped from Asmo’s tongue. How else could you explain the aphrodisiacal effects he had on your body? It appeared effortless for him to leave you squirming and rolling your hips up against his mouth. Those lovely lips made a mess of you. Loud, needy moans that humiliated all who heard them served as proof of the sexual expertise of the demon between your legs. Your mind clouded. Your breath shortened. Your head lolled back.

You were being so perfect and pretty for Asmo that he couldn’t hold his own need back. His hips lowered just enough so he could leisurely grind against his bed, compounding his pleasure as he continued to taste and tease you. Asmo’s own moans reverberated against you and played as a beautiful accompaniment to your own that drove Solomon wild. Sexually intoxicating you was Asmo’s sole focus – entirely undisturbed until a soft groan from Solomon caught his ear – the sort that indicated a shameful degree of frustration that only made Asmo pull away from you slightly with a giggle. You whined.

“Poor thing,” Asmo cooed quietly, and, for a second, you weren’t sure whether he was talking about you or Solomon. “Should we give Solomon a bit of attention, too, MC?”

As much as you wanted Asmo to keep going, the opportunity to expand your circle of unearthly pleasure excited you – and you knew Asmo would never leave you unsatisfied. Head still hazy, you offered a slow nod as you shakily sat up. Asmo saw your unsteadiness and rose to meet you; a stabilizing hand found the back of your neck as he leaned in to kiss you affectionately. Your taste lingered on his tongue, shared with you through a deepening kiss that was cut cruelly short, the ache of which was only soothed by the adoration in Asmo’s eyes as he stared back at your bliss-stained face.

“My love is too beautiful.” Asmo cupped your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips before prompting your mouth open with it, “and so good, too.”

You bit down on him gently, earning a delighted laugh.

“Fuck,” Solomon sighed, growing impatient and eager for attention. The sight of you and Asmo flirting and being romantic was riling him up, stirring up this dark, predatory aura that dimmed the glow of the roses from a soft pink to a mysterious lavender. Even in the lowered lights, you saw his need and desperation cleanly – compressed and carefully restrained, ready to be made a mess of.

“My poor master,” Asmo giggled teasingly, turning and crawling over to Solomon, leisurely and wordlessly requiring for the release of his thumb – as if he was reluctant to let the appendage leave your mouth without proper attention. Perhaps another time, but at this moment, Solomon’s body called to him. Asmo leaned down, getting a closer look at the twitching tent in Solomon’s pants and running a single finger up it. “Should I give you a hand?”

“Just a hand?” Solomon scoffed. All that teasing and waiting, and the only thing you’ll give me is a hand, Solomon thought, pretty little brat.

“Trust me,” Asmo spoke sweetly enough to appease the great sorcerer, “you’ll like it.”

You and Solomon watched on in anticipation as Asmo undid Solomon’s pants and slid them slowly down his hips. To your surprise, Solomon’s cock sprang up.

“You naughty boy~” Asmo teased, “no underwear~? You weren’t expecting this, were you?”

“You really are a slutty old man,” you chuckled and approached him. Before Solomon could protest, you caught his lips in a heated kiss so intense that his embarrassment leaked from the tip of his cock. Asmo used it to lube up his hand in slow, circular motions around the head before he started stroking Solomon in equally slow motions. A rumbling sigh fed you and died in the back of your throat as Solomon eagerly accepted your kiss. That deep, debauched sound contrasted with the soft, submissive whimper that left his lips as you pulled away and attempted to cling to you.

“Grind on my ass, MC,” Asmo instructed, interrupting your kiss-induced haze.

“What?” you asked, playfully amused.

“Hump me, silly,” Asmo giggled and shook his ass for you slightly – still focusing on pleasuring Solomon. “Let me make you both feel good.”

You pet Asmo’s head gently before you positioned yourself behind him. With a firm grip, you pulled him flush against your hips and started to grind against his soft ass, earning an aroused “oh.” Solomon’s eyes met yours, and despite being bound by vines, he smirked at you, as if he could read your mind. Maybe it was the eroticism of the situation, but as you rolled your hips into Asmo’s, all you could think was fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good. Or maybe Solomon knew what you were thinking because the same thought crossed his mind.

“Do my soft, pretty hands feel good, master~?” Asmo asked, looking up a Solomon with the loveliest eyes – a look that unfortunately went ignored as Solomon watched your face contort in pleasure. Asmo’s only response was Solomon’s desperate attempt to thrust his hips up into Asmo’s hand at the same pace as you were humping his ass; it said enough, and the demon was all melodic giggles.

Was it Asmo’s warm, soft skin, or Solomon’s burning gaze holding you, or the moans of both men that filled the room? Maybe Asmo was using a spell on you? Something intensified the pleasure, and before you could figure out what was getting you so worked up, you were cumming against Asmo’s ass.

Asmo could feel you pulsing as your grinding slowed but refused to stop; a part of you still wanted more – couldn’t bear to separate your body from his. Asmo took advantage of Solomon’s evident excitement at getting to watch you cum and sped up his movements, pulling more lewd noises from Solomon.

“Fuck, please?” Solomon whined mindlessly, “I’m gonna cum.”

“I know~” Asmo cooed. “Be a good master and cum on my face, ‘kay?”

Solomon was so focused on biting back his moans that he couldn’t even manage a nod. Instead, he replied by following orders and spurting cum all over Asmo’s pretty face. Asmo looked up at Solomon; that lovely face that he had made a mess of made Solomon’s cock twitch. Asmo leaned in to kiss Solomon and stretched his arm over to the nightstand, grabbing his D.D.D. and opening the camera app. He pulled away with a seductive smile, turned, and handed you the device.

“Take a flattering picture, luv,” Asmo grinned. He wasn’t going to upload this moment; some things were too intimate to share – but not so intimate that proof of it should stay confined in memories. You snapped a few pictures – some lovelier than others, but one in particular caught your attention as you scrolled back. You showed it to Asmo for his nod of approval. He took his phone from your hand and gently tossed it on the bed so he could caress your face with both hands. “Beautiful.”

You weren’t sure if he meant you or the photo – or maybe you were, but you were too embarrassed to admit that the Avatar of Lust looked at a photo of himself and still turned to you in admiration, in worship. Yet, you, like a disciple, leaned in and began to clean his face with your tongue. Asmo was giddy at your touch, but with each slow trail your tongue traced, fervent arousal grew in him. Even Solomon, confined to watching, felt himself getting hard once more. He was enamored – so much so that he waited until you had cleaned every drop of cum off Asmo’s face before he dared interrupt by clearing his throat.

Asmo laughed and snapped his fingers, freeing Solomon from his binds.

Solomon chuckled, “you sure know how to show a few humans a good time.”

“It’s not over yet, is it?” You glanced down at Solomon’s crotch quickly.

“Of course not,” Solomon got to his knees and kissed Asmo’s forehead sweetly, placing his hand on the base of Asmo’s neck, as he stared at you lovingly, propositioning you. “Let’s give you a fun Asmo night.”

Once again, you weren’t sure who was at the receiving end, but you were certain night would bleed into morning. If the Devildom had a sun, your lovemaking would greet the sunrise in equal beauty.

(A/N: please ignore that this is half a year late and please enjoy the content. Turns out Obey me is almost done, but I'll keep giving you content to make you feel stuff for a while.)

[orionsnotcanon]

Ok so... I had a dream about knock out months ago after binging TFP... I've been wanting to write it myself at some stage but I also really want to share it since I came across your recent post.

Reader is a fan of street racing and has their eye on a particular red car that seems to frequently show up. So imagine their surprise when they see it parked Infront of their work after a super long shift. They take some time to admire it before they hear a voice.

"Admiring?" He asks. They're flustered, not realizing someone was in the car. They can't see through the tint of the windows. It's a back and forth of flattery before he offers them a ride. They're hesitate but can't pass up the opportunity and get in only to see no driver but it's already too late.

ooo this aligns so well with the daydream i’ve got goin most days! Street Race Enthusiast Darling who can’t really afford to participate cuz those mods are EXPENSIVE but they’ve recently been seeing one car at every if not every other race they go to. Maybe it’s coincidence, maybe not..

Ahh street racing, truly an exhilarating hobby.

A thrilling watch, never knowing if these unsanctioned races will take a fiery turn, who’ll win, who’ll throw the first punch.

Lately, however, there’s been one continuous winner at most of the races you attend, a red beauty who’s driver never shows their face. You have no idea if he even collect the reward money after, you’ve never seen the trade off personally. Usually one of the losers try to start a fight, and you typically don’t want to stay around for the ending in case any weapons are drawn.

Most nights it works out, leaving just before things get too hairy and making it home in time to get enough sleep for work in the morning. You’ve never noticed how that beautiful red blends in so well with the shadows of back alleys and side streets.

KnockOut, however, is well aware.

Of how oblivious you are, of how many of those degenerates like to follow after you when you’re not looking. But he’s always right behind you, so you never have to notice just how much a darker crimson blends in better than his red.

Which means, it was a night like any other. Biking home late, unaware of the unworthy meat sacks that followed, and sleeping peacefully under your secret protectors watch. He didn’t have to speak to you to know that of course you’d be grateful, especially after all he’s worked to get for you.

Waking up to your bike missing, however, he may have to,, acknowledge it was a bit,, much.

Sure, it meant you were late to work,, again, but he would take care of it all, don’t you worry.

After just half a shift, your manager had to give you the unexpected news that you were being let go.

Apparently, a few customers had called to complain about you specifically. You try to argue that it must be a mistake, that you’ve done nothing but be a good employee, but the decisions already been made. The idea that someone might have it out for you crossed your mind, you have been a frequent at some of those shady races. But what or who could possibly have a problem with you?

You sigh as you exit early, grumbling under your breath and trying to figure out how to make this paycheck last, before something catches your eyes.

A beautiful, freshly waxed double of that race car you’ve been seeing lately. A low whistle escapes you as you exhale, glancing around as you casually stroll closer.

With no one in sight, you really take a look. Maybe leaving early wasn’t too bad, they might have left before you were able to get a peak.

Slowly, you admire the side closest to you, taking in all the details while making your way to the front of it.

“What a beauty..” You exhale, crouching down in front of the bumper to lightly trace your fingers over all the little details.

Suddenly, the lights turn on and the engine rumbles, startling you off your feet and back onto your ass.

“Like what you see?” An amused, self satisfied voice sounds from, what you can only assume, is the drivers side window.

Turning almost as red as the paint job before you, you quickly get to your feet. Like a deer in headlights you look back at the windshield, trying to find a face to speak towards at least.

The tint is so thick, you can’t think it’s legal, even as you shuffle back to the drivers side.

“Haha, I uh, yeah, sorry,” You laugh sheepishly, embarrassed a bit at just how slack jawed this stranger must have seen you, and how flushed you must be right now, “Your cars a real beauty is all.”

You make your way to the driver side door, keeping a respectable distance as he lowers the window a crack. You can’t see anything inside, despite your best, discreet, efforts.

“Why thank you, you’re not too bad yourself~” He muses, making you laugh awkwardly as you avert your gaze for a moment, “Where is someone like you off too at this hour? Can’t be much to do.”

You shrug, shifting on your feet as your eyes drift back to the car. Could it be..?

“Ah, ya know, just.. walkin around,” you hum, surely a street racer would keep his winning ride somewhere unseen. Was this guy not afraid of being caught?

“Would you prefer to drive around?” He asks, the undertone of eager anticipation going unnoticed by you in your thoughts. The offer itself, however, is enough to snap your attention to the window though.

It catches you off guard. Go for a ride? In this thing? It’d truly be a dream come true but you haven’t even seen this guys face yet!

Noticing your hesitation, the car inches just a small bit forward. “Come on, live a little! I’ll drop you off wherever you want~?”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. For the past few years the only thing exciting in your life was the occasional street race. You’d yearned to drive one of those beasts, and here was an offer to at least ride in one. Sure, stranger danger, but.. you mindlessly reach into your pockets, slowly fingering the can of pepper spray you kept on you. Maybe… Maybe you could do this.. just this once! You’ve been smart and responsible, you deserved a bit of fun especially after being fired for something you didn’t even do.

Slowly you nod, a small smile creeping up on your face. “Okay… okay! I mean, if it’s alright with you.”

You nervously, excitedly, jog to the other side, your smile growing as the door pops open a crack so you can swing right in.

In your excitement you buckle first before facing your hopefully new friend. That wide, shy grin dropping instantly as you see an empty drivers seat.

Your hand flies to the handle even as you hear the sound of locks clicking into place, you panic and push hard at door, or at least try to before the seatbelts have you in a vice grip against even the head rest. Tears form as you struggle, a soft voice coming from the dash area as the lights flicker slightly with each word.

“Hushhh, you’ll be safe now,” that same voice from before drawls, you can hear the curl in his lips as something leaks from the air vents. It’s becoming harder to breathe.

“Just close your eyes and when you wake up, we’ll be in your new home.”

[carlsdarling]

carl with fingering. it can be anything. any scenario. it’s all i can think about right now because LOOK AT HIS HANDS.

please and thank you 🙏🏼 keep on doing gods work 💗

Piano Player's Hands

Y/N gets really obsessed with Carl's hands... Bit more of a plot, than sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

Piano player's hands, that's what popped into your head when you first became aware of Carl Grimes' hands during a boring meeting at the Alexandria Community Center.

You were sitting around a large round table, and the topic was how to make the Alexandria neighborhood safer because Saviours often prowled around the area

Carl didn't say much - he never did - he just listened, both hands wrapped around a coffee cup. Once you started, you couldn't stop looking at his hands. They were big for such a slender boy, but graceful - with long, slender fingers and clearly visible knuckles. Really the hands of a piano player; only the chipped and somewhat dirty fingernails and the calluses, the rough skin and the small wounds didn't fit the picture, you mused. But Carl's hands were mostly busy working, killing walkers or cleaning weapons. There wasn't much time for hand and nail care.

"Y/N?" asked Maggie impatiently, and you noticed startled - apparently she hadn't addressed you for the first time.

"Um, what?" you asked dumbly, and Maggie rolled her eyes.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to be assigned to regular patrols outside the wall?"

"Uh, yeah," you stammered, taking your eyes off Carl's hands with difficulty.

                                                           ***

In the following time you caught yourself again and again thinking about Carl in a juicy way. About him and his hands, especially his fingers. You imagined Carl pleasuring himself; how his long fingers closed around his hard shaft and moved up and down, squeezing lightly, how he rubbed his thumb over the wet tip, how he tossed his head back and forth on the pillow and moaned. Certainly Carl did it every day; at least that was true of most boys his age. You had never had much contact, but now your thoughts were constantly circling around Carl.

When you masturbated yourself, you now fantasized exclusively about Carl; you dreamed of him sliding those fingers into your pussy and stroking your clit. You feared that people would see what you were thinking, so you started avoiding Carl. Whenever you ran into him, you would turn bright red, turn around, and walk away in the other direction. One day you were supposed to stand guard on the wall with Carl, but that was completely impossible, you couldn't talk to him or look him in the eye - he would read your dirty mind, you were sure of it. So you sought out Rick and asked him to let you switch shifts with someone.

Rick frowned at the schedule where the guard duties were listed. It was clear he wasn't thrilled with your request. "Now I'm going to have to reschedule everything," he groused. "Why do you want to change shifts?"

"Um, I, I... well, I don't like getting up early," you lied.

"The shift starts at 10 AM," Rick wondered. "But well, I guess you can switch with Glenn; you'll be on at 6 PM," he stated, scribbling on the list. Neither Rick, nor you had noticed Carl standing next to the doorway to the living room.

After leaving Rick's house, you went to the stables, you wanted to look at a newborn foal. The foal was lying in the straw, sleeping, protected by its mother. "Cute, isn't it?" a voice sounded behind you.

The foal woke up and roused itself. You flinched. "Carl!" you exclaimed. "Are you stalking me?" you then accused him.

"To be honest, yes," he answered hesitantly. "I overheard that you didn't want to be on guard duty with me. Besides, you're avoiding me like I have the plague. Have I done something to you?" he asked, half hurt, half provocative.

You glanced past him to his left hand, with which he was petting the foal. "No," you murmured. The sight made you all tingly.

"Then what is it?" demanded Carl angrily.

"Well...I can't talk about it," you evaded, your face glowing. You tried to walk past Carl out of the stable, but he held you by the shoulder.

"Wait," he said, amused. "Are you...are you maybe crushing on me?" He grinned.

"I don't know," you squirmed, licking your lips. Carl was suddenly very close to you, his breath warmly brushing your neck, then all of a sudden his lips lay softly on yours. You let yourself go into the kiss, of course you did. When you stopped the kiss a moment later, you whispered, "I can't stop thinking about your fingers."

Carl raised an eyebrow - the one, visible one. "My fingers?"

"Yes, they...they're extraordinary, beautiful, and I'd like you to...um..."

Carl chuckled. "Now I understand," he said, throwing you a cocky smile before kissing you again, letting his right hand wander to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them and fumbling forward into your panties. You went to your knees whimpering as he stroked you between your legs, wetting his fingers. You sank to the floor together, and you impatiently pushed your pants and panties down to your knees to give Carl free access. "You're completely wet for me," he noted with fascination.

"Carl, finger me, please," you moaned breathlessly, raising your hips with a yelp as Carl obeyed, sliding his index and middle finger into your willing pussy and gently moving them back and forth with a smooth rhythm. "Oh, Carl, yes, please," you moaned, totally wanting and at his mercy. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, craving more and more of him. He bent down and kissed you passionately as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. You clung to Carl's shoulders as he pushed you over the edge and the world exploded around you in stars and rainbow colors. "Carl!!!" you panted, clawing at him. One of the horses shied away at your outcry.

Breathing heavily, you relaxed as Carl slowly pulled his fingers out of you. They were all slippery from your juices. Your heart raced. Carl pressed himself against you longingly. "You could do something for me now," he pleaded, and you could see the bulge in his jeans. He rubbed over it meaningfully.

"Jerk yourself off," you suggested. "I want to see that."

Carl grinned suggestively. "Someday, maybe, but right now I want you to jerk me off. It's only fair, don't you think?" he pouted.

He wasn't wrong, though. "All right," you agreed. You still had a little time before you had to show up for your work at the doctor's office. Eagerly, Carl opened his belt and his jeans and pulled out his fully erected dick, and you noted that it was really big and just as pretty as Carl's hands, and inhaled sharply. However, it turned out that Carl was so aroused from your previous activities that he cum all over your hand just as soon as you touched him.

"Oh," he commented lamely. "Sorry, baby."

You had to snicker. "I think we should do this more often."

--

Tags: @loveforcarl @tessasweet @knochentrocken0808 @taylormarieee

[abiiors]

haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night. 

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face. 

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years. 

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going. 

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes. 

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her. 

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle. 

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later. 

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia. 

besides, there’s her to think about. 

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning. 

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while. 

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat. 

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun. 

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it. 

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late. 

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view. 

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night. 

but back to now. back to here. 

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily. 

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here. 

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves. 

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.” 

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely. 

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles. 

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage. 

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression. 

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second. 

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it. 

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat. 

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter. 

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention. 

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you. 

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem. 

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her. 

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry. 

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family. 

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl. 

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however. 

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry. 

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting. 

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink. 

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience. 

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy. 

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks. 

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him. 

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore. 

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths. 

jarringly still, you smile back. 

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You ever thought about the fact that, if Killer retains his SAVE, LOAD, and RESET abilities he's, like, basically a necromancer but for whole ass universes?

Like, he could genuinely go into any universe, reset it to Frisk's fall, kill them for good (aka convince the Player that their game is bugged by spawn killing them until they give up), and voila! The universe is fixed!

Like, I don't think he'd actually do it (especially considering the fact that to him Players are basically gods and he doesn't seem to want to challenge them) but I do think that if this possibility is ever revealed to others there are quite a few people who'd try to pressure him into it.

Perhaps not, like, Dust. 'Cause he's already too far gone to think there's any fixing his universe. But what about Horror or Cross? (It probably wouldn't work with Cross since there is some far greater bullshittery going on there, but he'd definitely nag at Killer until he at least tries).

I'm firmly of the belief that Color would never pressure him into it. But what if word spreads? What if it reaches Dream? He definitely could use something like that, and it would be for the greater good. I don't even think the pressure from him would be malicious, but Killer's not in the mental state to take it well.

And if the rumor spreads to someone like Error, he may be incentivized to get rid of him. As for Nightmare, he'd probably double his efforts to yoink him back.

I also don't think that Killer would be a fan of using any of those powers since they're heavily related to Chara and his trauma. Like, no matter how this goes, no matter if he agrees to help or not, he's gonna have a shit time.

Holy hell, no matter where this guy goes, someone just always wants to use him as their weapon, huh. Can’t he ever just catch a break.

And id imagine both the idea of going against Players, saying no to saving universes (because he’s trying to be “good” now and “good” people would save universes right?), and actually saving universes which actively goes against what he was made for would create an absolute shitstorm of psychological, mental, emotional and behavioral regression in killer.

color is definitely gonna have to step up and defend killer against being used again. killer is already struggling to think of himself as a person let alone a “good” person, it’d be so easy to guilt trip him when he’s in stage 1–knowingly and intentionally or not. And it’d be so easy to take advantage of him once he’s in Stage 2 and too apathetic to care about his own well being.

Because yes it would definitely improve his standing in the eyes of the multiverse and it could do a lot of good, but not only would it draw in more people who want to use him, and would once again set him back to viewing himself as a weapon. Different from a killing machine, but still nonetheless someone’s machine.

He’s already struggling under Nightmare to not kill, because the Boss needed people alive for negativity and yet killing is Stage 4’s first instincts.

And putting him in a similar situation as the one with Chara and Nightmare is just asking for his soul to tip over into Stage 4 permanently and completely losing himself. Perhaps this is the situation that sends him mentally regressing back to the early days with Chara even.

{ @stellocchia }

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 1

You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

Here it is, the first story. Chapter numero uno. No smutty stuff yet, but it'll be incoming. If y'all like it, I'll keep posting. It will be a series. A long one, the plot needs to thicken. Bonus points if you can tell where the lyrics are from XD

3K Word Count

Chapter One- Are You At One, Or Do You Lie?

You stood on a patio, gripping your fresh mug of coffee as you gazed out towards the vast landscape that lay to the front of you. Sleep had eluded you all night, and when the decision had finally been made that you weren’t going to receive a restful slumber- you groggily made your way to the kitchen of mountain home for a source of fuel. Bundled in your favorite zip up hoodie and some fleece lined sweatpants, you made a strong cup of coffee and slowly made your way to the best part of the home (at least, to you).

This place you called home was far from most’s idea of humble and conservative, but to you it was a dream, and it was the perfect place to escape your tiny city apartment. Those who you trusted enough to bring here, upon their first visit could not believe that the slummy 600 sqft. apartment you slept in within city limits belonged to the same person who owned this chateau. It was easily ten times the size, housed your selection of transport handily- and allowed you to tinker and build to your hearts desire- in your free time. 

Free time was a concept that had eluded you the past 8 months. This was the first time you had been able to escape the demanding requests of what allowed you such luxuries- your job that you had once loved. It allowed you to live this lifestyle of multiple residences, cars of your dreams, and a comfortable living since your early graduation from college, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for that. Of late, the very job you swore you owed your happiness and gratitude for had completely drained you of all satisfaction you once held. The switch to a new management company and new bosses has made your life a living hell, and you were simply exhausted. You had spent the last year helping to roll everything over for this new ownership group, working tirelessly and many times staying at your corner office in a posh downtown Los Angeles high-rise, sleeping on the sofa that sat across desk.

Being a high ranking executive officer for a government-trusted security firm, you saw everything. The early exit from college sent you straight to the military- quickly earning the respect of all around you, and you worked the ranks within your 6 years in the US Army as fast as anyone ever had- particularly for a woman. Holding the title of a three star general was sheer insanity, with which no one thought it was a possibility to obtain a rank that high, that quickly- not without the drama and rumors, at least. That is what made you discharge with honors, quickly accepting your current position as the Chief Executive to Internal Affairs, which was a fancy way of saying you were in charge of the clean-up. You handled all internal affairs, information leaks, and other messes that someone’s lackadaisical attitude or poor judgment had created. You were also a secret weapon, of sorts. Many mistook your title as one where your hands never got dirty, you would have someone handle your “dirty work”. Oh, the fact that you handled it personally messed with many of the poor soul’s minds with whom you had to scour their mistakes and tie up any loose ends. 

You were leaning up against one of the main support logs with your steaming cup, a timber that held the weight of a massive roofline, shielding your best mountain view from too much weather. The only lights on were the under cabinet lights in your kitchen, which was 30 or so feet behind you, behind a wall of glass that you demanded the house be built around. You had all but built the majority of the house yourself, the lack of control was too much- only contracting out the major structural aspects and work that was too involved for you to do alone. You had also purchased a fair amount of land surrounding your escape, to the tune of a few thousand acres. You wanted to ensure the utmost in privacy, and also security. Your career ensured that you made more than a lifetimes worth of enemies, as you more often than not cost them their jobs, at least.

Sometimes you cost people all but their lives, but made them wish you had just taken that instead. To this you had long since steeled your emotions to this, as it was a part of the business. The land included a large lake- so even on frigid night like tonight, you found solace in coming outside with something to warm your hands, while gazing at the reflection of the mountains and the nighttime sky reflecting in its calm waters, your boat barely moving against its dock. As you found yourself becoming more and more entranced by the view in front of you, the ever so slightly lightening of the sky before you and the vibration of the watch on your wrist told you that you needed to try and get at lest a few hours sleep, so you begrudgingly turned around, and placed the half empty mug of coffee in the sink, before slinking over to your sofa and flinging your exhausted form onto it, and turning into its back for a nap. Today was going to be a big day, so you needed some rest. 

Your eyes opened right before your alarm went off on your cell phone, and you slowly sat up and groaned, muttering a “fuck” to yourself before standing up and stretching your sore body. You shuffled off to the master suite upstairs, quickly discarding the hoodie and sweatpants before walking into the shower to fire up its multitude of jets and shower heads with steaming water. You desperately needed to rinse off the lack of restful sleep and freshen up for your day.  You grabbed a fresh towel from the linen cabinet that towered next to your side of the sprawling double vanity. The combination of wood and stone always calmed you- and it was evident in how this home was designed.

The shower you stepped inside of appeared as thought it had been cut out of a mountainside- with stone ledges holding all of your favorite soaps, shampoos and conditioners, and made you feel like you were showering in a waterfall. As the water cascaded and massaged at your aching form, you grabbed onto your soap of choice for the day, and lathered it all over your tattooed, chiseled body. Your parents had never been happy with your decision to tattoo the majority of your body, particularly the back of your neck. That had been the final straw of disappointment from you- they haven’t spoken to you since. Your childhood was highly conservative, as your dad was a southern, religious and military man himself, and your mom was the epitome of a housewife. She would bend to his opinion and will, as though she had no say of her own. While you deeply loved your mother,  you could not stand to see how her opinions and values disappeared over time- being taken over by your strict fathers.

It’s not that you really mind that they cut you out- as you had always longed for your own sense of being, and hated living in your fathers shadow. The tattoos were at first seen as “acting out”, but they quickly realized that it went further than that, and you weren’t going to hear any of their disapproval regarding what you did with your body. The short hair dyed in any and every color, piercings that came and went, and ink were your way of displaying your current state. As you turned around to shut off the water, you reached out of the veil of steam that was flowing around the shower, and grabbed the towel hung on a convenient rack just on the outside of the showers walls, made to look like dead wood. You peered over at the large mirror, slicking back the dark brown and blonde streaked hair, leaning on the counter to truly see how exhausted you look. “You look like hell, Y/L/N.” You say to yourself in the mirror, before carrying on with your morning routine. 

Opting for a navy blue pinstripe suit, with a black button up, you mussed your hair in the mirror, giving it your signature tousled look, before turning to weave the brown belt through the loops around your trim waist. You grabbed the matching pair of brown shoes out of your walk in closet, and slipped them onto your feet before turning and looking at your appearance in the mirror. You had always been an athletic kid, and the myriad of sports you were involved in growing up allowed you the luxury of a muscular build on your tall frame. You weren’t insanely tall, average for your family, but taller than most.  You looked down as your watch vibrated on your wrist, reminding you that you needed to leave soon- otherwise your commute to work would take you past your typical start time, which was not the impression you wanted to set for the new bosses. You quickly spun around on the hardwood floor, grabbing your cologne from the wooden shelf, and spraying it onto your pulse point and wrists before grabbing the keys hanging below and making your way out of the bedroom and towards the other wing of your house- where all your toys were kept. 

Typically you wouldn’t escape unless you had at least a few days to spend here, as this was seriously out of your way for a commute to work. But you needed the respite. Work had been abnormally stressful for you, as you were planning for a massive undertaking at work- a new security project that required the best of the best- so you were “volunteered” to be the only person for this mystery operation. You arrived in the warehouse of vehicles that were varying degrees of extravagance- from classic cars to modern exotics, you had your bases covered. You walked past them all, climbing a spiral staircase the the opposite end of the garage, and opening a hefty steel door and walking out to your helicopter. Your days in the military afforded you many things- a pilots license being one of them. You quickly climbed inside, placing the headset hanging from the ceiling next to you onto your head, and grabbing the aviator sunglasses on the seat next to you before switching all the necessary toggles and firing up the machine. You announced your presence to the nearby air traffic control tower- located in the neighboring city, before gently pulling the joystick between your legs and slowly raising the vehicle off of the ground, and up towards the city. The two hour flight to work would be plenty of time for you to get your mind into work mode.

You swiftly landed the helicopter on the rooftop of your workplace, only to be greeted by your new boss, as well as your assistant, Kris, waiting for you a safe distance off of the helipad. You hopped out of the copter, re-buttoning the top buttons of your pinstripe blazer, and walking towards the pair. Kris gently smiled your way, handing you a large cup of coffee, for which you were thankful. You nodded her way, raising your eyebrows so they could just be seen above your glasses as you too a sip of the liquid, then letting out a long sigh after swallowing the drink. 

“Thank you.” You spoke quietly, and turned to your direct supervisor to shake his hand. 

“Y/L/N. Good Morning, we have a lot to do today. I hope you are prepped and ready.” He lifted his head slightly, as he tried to make it like he was taller, so he could look down towards you. 

“Yessir. I’ve been prepared for the last two months, sir.” You replied curtly as he turned and stalked back to the doorway that would descend back down to the executive level of the office. 

“You look like shit, Y/N…” Kris whispered to you as you both walked behind your boss, a slight look of worry on her face. She had been one of the first people you met after you discharged from the military, and moved to Los Angeles. You had actually gotten her this job as your new assistant as she was one of the few you knew you could trust, and your former assistant had kept trying your patience and trust. She was dressed up more than usual, wearing a tight black pencil skirt, that fell just below her knees. It was slightly split up the back, and allowed you the slightest view of her toned thighs. She wore a dark green blouse, and her blonde hair was wrapped up in a bun, with her black glasses framing her piercingly grey eyes. That was the first thing you had noticed about the woman when you first met- how her eyes seemed to be so colorless, yet full of emotion. You both had tried the whole relationship thing- but with your lack of comfort within yourself to fully admit you were gay, and years of pretending you weren’t, being in the military and with your conservative parents- you had both decided that you couldn’t be together, but were mature enough to recognize that you both were good friends, and wouldn’t let the failed attempt ruin your friendship. But, the brief glimpse beyond your hardened, tattooed exterior allowed her to read you like a fucking book. And you hated it. 

“Thanks, Sherlock.” You smirked over your coffee cup, as you approached the elevator to take you down towards your office. 

“You’re working too much.” She stated flatly. 

“No, I’m only doing what is necessary.” You state, and she rolls her eyes as you peel the glasses off your face, setting them on top of your hair. You briefly glance her direction to notice she rolls her eyes at you before the doors ding open, leading you towards a long marble lined hallway flanked by frosted glass doors and windows. You both walked towards the door that led you to your office.

“You never fly to McCall unless you can stay for a period of time. You flew there to stay the night? That’s not like you.” She was walking in front of you to be able to open the door before you approached it. 

“Yeah, so? It’s my house. I can go if I want. What made you so sure I went there in the first place?” You asked pointedly, not meaning to come out that rude as you crossed the threshold to your office. 

“Your car was still in the parking garage when I left last night. I came back up to check on you, but you were gone. I went upstairs and the heli was gone.” She narrowed her eyes in your direction. She always warned you not to burn the candle at both ends, but you did it anyways. 

“You don’t need to check on me. I’m a grown ass woman, I will do what I need to for my job.”

“Y/N, this isn’t about work. You need to take care of you.” She spits back pointedly, before spinning on her heels and walking back out the door towards her office next door. You sighed, rubbing your hands on your face, before removing the blazer adorning your shoulders, and unbuttoning the cuffs to your black dress shirt, allowing you to slightly roll up the sleeves to show some of your inked skin. The holster you wore on your hip that housed your work pistol came off, to be sat next to your on your desk. You sat rather heavily into your large leather chair, taking a deep breath and opening your laptop to begin checking your emails.

You scrolled through every email, skimming them over, deleting the unnecessary ones, forwarding ones to Kris that she could handle, and finally your eyes fell upon the email you knew was coming. There was an attachment that was rather large, and you had to print it off before slipping it into a file and making your way towards the board room two floors down. You heard Kris’s door open as you opted to go down the stairs instead, and opened the door to lead you down towards your next assignment. You took the opportunity to glance at the file as you swiftly descended the stairs, and right as you approached the door to the correct floor, it opened up- causing your eyes to dart up and be met with a discontent gaze of your best friend. You blankly stared back as you walked by her, and made your way to the board room. 

“Did you read any of that file yet?” She asked, shuffling a little bit quicker to catch up with you.

“Some of it, yes. Why are the names redacted? I have the highest security clearance of anyone here.” You turned to your assistant, who shrugged her shoulders, narrowing her eyes as she reached for the folder, to open the pages and confirm what you had already stated. You approached the door to the boardroom, the occupants of the room were obscured by heavily frosted glass, but you could hear a faint conversation. Kris shrugged, not knowing why, and stepped around you, to grab the door and hold it open for you. As you step inside the room, your eyes glance from person to person, astutely taking in their demeanors as your gaze bounces from person to person. First, your bosses, who were starting at you expectantly, and then to the people in the room you had no clue of- except one. 

“Are you ready to start, Y/L/N?” The owner of your company asked.  Your eyes remained locked onto the blonde bombshell sitting at the far end of the table, surrounded by people you assume are her assistants.  You sit down at the opposite end of the table, without breaking eye contact.

“I thought we were a government military contractor, not some for-hire security outfit.” You state coldly as you sat next to your boss.  He glared back at you, giving you the impression that this was not the time. 

“We’re not for hire. But when someone asks for the best, they ask for us- more specifically, you, Y/L/N.” He quipped back. “And I shouldn’t have to remind you, that in this business- money talks. Back to business,” He says pointedly in your direction, earning a smirk from both blondes in your presence.

(CHAPTER 2)

A/N: Nothing like making your boss call you out in a meeting, amiright? Let me know what you think!

[paviastrashyrings]

Hi there, can I...give you a R:1999 request here ?

Request: Pavia met Assassin Reader who's retired after doing countless missions, but still looks dangerous nonetheless. I really wonder about their relationship between the Wolf and the retired Assassin look like, especially reader who had a bit wary about Pavia and his actions toward them.

(Thank you very much for my first request 🎉) I would be delighted to indulge in a reader that is worn through by past work; fortified from a life of dirty work much like our Wolf man. Join me now in yet another sleepless dream of Pavia, dear readers.

He would think of you as intriguing, similar lines of work except you seemed so different.

You were tired, moreso than he, and even a single glance at his guns or blades would change your demeanor towards him.

You were not friendly, but you were not cold...that is, until you were made aware of the weapons he carried on him. The distinct smell of blood follows him around despite all the cologne he drowns himself in. You could never forget the feeling of cold metal, fatal yet beautifully crafted, in your hands as you steeled your resolve and pulled the trigger for the first time

His pack was wary of you the same way you were wary of him, you reeked of danger despite your work having ended long before you met him, the wolves would raise their hackles and bare their fangs at you if you as much as reached a hand out towards him in the early stages of this relationship.

You were fine with abstaining from touch, preferring to not cause conflict, but he seemed to throw himself at you.

He was curious, when he got curious he got impatient. He wanted to know you, willing to deal with how you glared at him if he asked you any questions about your past work.

"Amico Mio! Buongiorno," before promptly throwing an arm around your shoulder, feeling you tense before relaxing a smidge after not hearing any growls.

The problem was not touch, you didn't seem to be uncomfortable with friendly touch, but the moment he speaks of how the rain washes away notes written in blood he cant help but note the tension in your jaw and shoulders.

He would have been a target, you knew from how he spoke and the work he did, someone would have paid big to get rid of him.

The thought terrifies you, especially if you feel romantically towards him.

Speaking of Romance, perhaps you came here for a sweeter dream? If so, I would be happy to indulge, dear readers:

Pavia is a very loud and forward person, he would not be one to label a relationship because he does not seem like the type of person to commit to someone so...commonly.

Pavia was not raised by humans, but by the wolves that kept him company in the dark of that basement, his very best of friends. If he likes you, he will pop up at places you frequent and pester you, weapons concealed so he could (try to) keep you comfortable.

He'll give you little baubles that jingle or shine, and give you cologne that he wears.

I like to think that he likes when you smell like him. If you let him into your house willingly, he'll take note of the shampoo and conditioner you use so that he can discreetly smell like you.

As you get more comfortable with him, he'll test the waters of touch.

Running up behind you without discretion and picking you up, you can scold him after if you did not like it, this was just a test after all and he promises he wont do it again.

He asks to spar with you, rough housing is a way that wolves play after all, and he even knows how to play bow. Lowering his head and hinging at the waist slightly to lean in as if to challenge you; bending his knees and bringing his hands in to guard his face.

The fact that he wants to fight you, in your mind, is bold and nonsensical. You would even go as far as to say he's foolish for doing so, but indulge him, he wants to learn how you move.

He admires how you fight, despite you saying that you never really had to do much hand to hand combat, you carry yourself gracefully. He could watch you mess up a punching bag or training dummy for hours, (he would openly admit how attractive it is).

He's aware that after all your years of work, your body does tend to hurt after a sparring match, its been a while since you even wanted to get into stance again. Without asking, he'll bring your favorite food or snack later on to help you recuperate, maybe even make you gelato based off of the flavor of your favorite sweet.

This was fun to write, but it isn't beta read so forgive me if it isn't up to par. Thank you once again for your request. With a heavy heart I must bid you adieu for now, dear readers, Signed yours eternally, Moon.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Erin's Crew

Use the time

A short, perhaps somewhat boring episode, but the next one will be longer and a little more impulsive.

The next morning started early for Chloe when she suddenly woke up from a nightmare. It consisted of images of people who had lost their lives to cannon shots or shrapnel, which was a trauma for her. Unfortunately, there was no psychologist on the base to talk to about it. Her gaze went over to Peter, who also seemed to be having a restless sleep.

She watched him for a while. He was dreaming badly and speaking unintelligible words that she quickly realized were his native language. She knew that you shouldn't necessarily stop someone who was dreaming, but it was as if he wouldn't come out on his own. “Peter? Hey,…” She shook him gently by the arm.

Chloe's actions didn't just wake Peter up. Roman got up from his bed quite angrily. “Tell me, are you stupid, Shearing? Why can't I sleep here in peace?"/ ‘I'm… I'm sorry…’/ ‘phh, I don't think so…’/ ”Don't get so excited, Cardona, okay? You can always lie down again…hh, thanks, Chloe,” Peter said, almost a little relieved…

Chloe walked around the bed again while Roman left the bedroom in a huff. “Don't worry, I'm absolutely not mad at you for waking me up, okay? I'm even grateful for it…"/ ‘Was it that bad, what you dreamt?’/ ”Not bad, more … disturbing… I sometimes dream about my father. Although I've never seen him alive…"/ ‘oh, o.k.’.

“Hh, sometimes dreams mean something… Maybe your father just wants to visit you"/ ”maybe, but still… It's disturbing. Tell me… Would you like to go into town with me today? We could go to the park or maybe to the gallery?”. Chloe was surprised by his suggestion, but it suited her just fine. “mhm, I'd love to”.

About half an hour later, almost everyone met in the kitchen. Erin had gotten up early despite her relatively short night and was on her way to the coffee machine. “wow, you look great, Colonel"/ ”thank you. You're welcome to show yourself in normal clothes on your days off"/ ‘Oh, I've already gotten used to our work clothes, hn…’/ ‘Yeah, me too, and I don't have such great clothes’.…

“Is Mr. Swan up and about yet?” Erin asked a little hesitantly. “No, he's still hanging out somewhere in dreamland. Must have had a long night…” Roman said, almost provocatively. “Should I wake him?"/ ”No, let him sleep… Everyone here has more than earned a break. I still have a few things to catch up on, though.”.

There were plenty of tables in this room where everyone could have sat down. But it was nice to be in company. “Do you have anything nice planned for your day today?"/ ‘Peter… I mean, Mr. Lee and I, we wanted to go into town’/ ‘You don't have to be so formal today, Chloe’/ ‘hn, o.k.’ The team had known each other for a while now and so they were able to call each other by their first names.

As the comrades chatted at the table during the meal, Erin's thoughts were in a time when she herself was still one of the newcomers. She thought about her comrades and also her superior. These thoughts were quickly displaced by the newer ones that had taken root in her mind. The previous night with Diego. “Don't you agree, Colonel?"/ ‘hm, what?’.

“I was just saying to Mr. Lee that he should look around town for a nice girl. A bit of variety would certainly do him good…”. Peter just smiled. “I've got enough variety, really, and nice company too”. Roman looked alternately at Chloe and Peter for a moment… “um…if you say so”.

“Don't you want to go out among the people today, Colonel?"/ ”As I said, I still have some catching up to do here. I also want to see if all the weapons have been returned to storage"/ ‘Well, I've already handed mine in’/ ‘Yes, me too, everything in its place’/ ‘Good’… After Erin had finished her coffee and the others had finished eating, it was time to make good use of the day.

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

@greenplumbboblover ⭐

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader\

Chapter 7: Skinny Love

Synopsis: You and Astarion go shopping for a dress and end up stumbling upon a very special Violin. After a week of Astarion avoiding you, you decide to do something about it.

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

 Gods above, Astarion thinks, if you do exist- some assistance with self control would be appreciated.

  This is probably the eighth dress you have tried on and while he can tell you aren’t happy with it, he and his body certainly are. Just like the last dress, and the one before, and the one before that. 

 It had been about a week and a half since you both arrived in Waterdeep and he immediately began teaching you how to fight like a rogue, but also provided you with typical bard weapons like hand crossbows. He bought several different types of weapons for you to try- so far you seem most adept with the Rapier, hand crossbows, and hand to hand combat. 

 However, this means both of you had been excessively close and touching frequently- sometimes in compromising positions that make Astarion want to take you right there- eat you out while you cry out his name like a prayer on the sparring mat Gale so graciously conjured up. 

  His libido hasn’t calmed down- it’s gotten even worse- along with his intense feelings towards you. Yesterday’s debacle didn’t help. Astarion had taken a fairly easy contract so that you could practice sneaking around. Well, the family came home earlier than anticipated and Astarion had dragged you both into a large Wardrobe that was obviously never used and only for show. 

  You had tried to argue  in protest because you didn’t know what was going on- Astarion found himself holding you tightly against his chest, your back to him, and his hand covering your mouth. 

  He could smell your arousal, the way your heart started up again like a kick drum after it stopped, and you certainly couldn’t hide the minuscule moans that had left your lips when he pulled you closer to him whenever someone walked by. He just hoped you couldn’t tell how hard he was against you. 

But do you actually want him or was that just the nature of the circumstances?

  It’s become borderline unbearable- sleeping next to you is a wonderful experience, but he’s often up early trying to tell his body to calm the hell down- his imagination getting even more imaginative.

“What about this one?” 

  You hop up on the little platform and look in the mirror with your hands on your hips before twirling to look at him. 

 You look like a dream- the lavender satin fits your curves in all of the right ways and accentuates your hips, ass, and breasts without being overly showy. It’s modest- the top wrapped in a different direction than the floor length skirt and the straps are meant to hang, unsupported along your shoulders before dropping down along the back- reaching just below the skirt so that it looks like you are almost wearing a cloak of sorts. 

  “You are a vision,” he whispers, the words he’s been trying to hold back all day finally come flying out of him. 

 “So yes?” You ask nervously, while picking at your nails. 

  He nods, too worried he may give a full blown love confession in the middle of the dress shop if he opens his mouth. 

  Thankfully, shoes and purchasing everything was the easiest part of the day- the sun beginning to go to sleep. You kept insisting on letting you do something to pay him back for buying all these items for you, but he doesn’t want you to feel like you owe him a damn thing. 

  You don’t have money- you were quite literally a cat up until two weeks ago. Astarion is more than happy to make sure you have what you need- reminding you, once again, that if it were anyone else it would be a nuisance, but you are worth it.

 You are Astarion’s Godsend after all. 

 “Gods,” you stop in front of a music shop, “look at that beauty.” 

  Astarion follows as you are completely enraptured and away from the world- pulled inside towards the beautiful instrument and you just stare at it. 

“Ah- I see I have a fan of the classics!” The elderly man comes up and gives you a firm pat on the shoulder that Astarion has to help you rebalance from, “Made of Englemann Spruce with Maple sidings. Rosewood fittings along the pegs and the floral pattern as well as the leafing pattern are hand carved.

“It’s not for sale- it’s a part of a little competition I have put together.”

“Competition?” You are practically frothing at the mouth, “what competition!?” 

  The man smiles widely, he must be an older bard and a teacher. Symbols of Oghma are along the walls and Astarion is absolutely thrilled that your first real choice of stop doesn’t have a single attractive individual around. He doesn’t have any desire to fight for your attention.

“It’s not so much a competition, per say, but lots of people have turned it into one. Anyone who walks into this shop and sees this Violin is drawn to it for a reason,” he says, “but only one person is meant for this Violin. It’s waiting for someone- otherwise it sounds like shit.”

  You laugh at the man’s last sentence, “so temperamental.”

“Aren’t they all?”

  You look at the Violin and Astarion studies your expressions. There is apprehension and fear, but also so much hope- so much hope that you may be the one the Violin has been waiting for.

 “Would you like to play it?” The elderly man rasps, “I have never felt it produce such intense energy nor yearning to be played as it is right now.”

“I know,” you whisper, “I can feel it.”

  You take the violin and Astarion notes how you hold it as if it’s a living breathing human being that deserves respect. You hold the violin as if you are worshipping it- not a single sound comes from it as you gently pick it up and cradle it against your face.

“What are you going to -“

 You hold up a finger to the old man- listening to the violin. Within in an instant- beautiful, bright, cheerful music pours from your finger tips and into the violin. 

  Astarion feels the breath he doesn’t need being stolen from his lungs and brought to life as it always should have been- the air feels warmer, but in a soft spring day kind of way. The sun’s rays seem to warm the room even though it is the evening and Astarion feels utter- complete bliss. So calm and relaxed, the store clerk seems to feel the same way.

   Astarion feels disappointment float through the air when you stop playing and he notices how you look at the clerk with wide, desperate eyes.

“Is that what you were looking for?”

  The man smiles and you hand him back the violin- he begins to move to the part of the store where the cases are.

“About 400 years ago- I had a feeling I needed to make this violin,” he says wistfully, “I could never figure out why- it all had to be particularly done in a certain way and when I tried to play it, it wouldn’t produce a single noteworthy sound.

“I thought I did something wrong,” he shakes his head laughing, “but then Oghma came to me and said that the violin is waiting for it’s person, it’s purpose and that I will know when they arrive.”

  He places the violin in a deep blue velvet, hard case and locks it. Before handing it over to you- you look like you are on the verge of tears and honestly, so is Astarion. He is so happy for you he could scream it from the rooftops.

“I’m glad I no longer have to look,” he says with a wink, “take care of the old gal, will you?”

“With my life, sir!” 

  You are giddy and hugging your new violin to your chest- dancing along the streets and skipping occasionally from giddiness. 

  You almost miss the empty park- almost.

 Astarion gently grabs your arm and guides you to the park- a few people are wandering around or sitting at the bench. One elderly woman looks at the sky crying. 

 “Oh, do you want to go for a quick walk?”

“No- I want you to play.” 

  You look at Astarion like he’s grown a second and then third head. 

“I couldn’t,” you shake your head, “I haven’t played for a group in years and-“

“And yet you are still one of the most incredible violin players I have ever heard,” he whispers, not wanting to have anyone else pressure you, “I understand if you don’t want to, but I think it would be a disservice to all of humanoid kind to not hear you play tonight in this park.” 

  You look up at him- searching his face. Astarion is begging and pleading that you don’t discover how disgustingly love sick he is for you. He doesn’t want to ruin your friendship- he doesn’t want you to run off because you can’t possibly ever return his feelings and don’t want to hurt him. 

 “You really think so?” 

“I know so, my Darling,” Astarion says, absentmindedly cupping one side of your face and swiping his thumb along your cheek gently, “you are brilliant and I will take every little morsel of your talents that you are willing to share.” 

  That seems to do the trick- you walk out on the little stage meant for bards and you begin to set up. You make sure the instrument is tuned and you seem to be thinking hard about something. You look at him while placing the violin on your shoulder and pressing your chin into it. 

  One of Astarion’s favorite songs hits the air and he feels engulfed in it. Your last several months of traveling had allowed you to teach him a lot about violin music and how to feel it, not just listen to it. Astarion always jumped at the opportunity to take you to see a Bard in the park after the first time at Baldur’s Gate.

  You know how to play other instruments as well, but your favorite is the violin, so he always made a point of traveling faster if there had been a violinist heading to the town nearby. Gale kept him updated as you traveled- it was very easy to make happen for you.

 He never wanted to walk down the Crypt of the Rothwell steps and see you grieving for your biggest fan, your mother, ever again. She died, not even saving herself, because she loved you so much she couldn’t bear to live without you. Astarion, as much as he wishes he didn’t, understands exactly how your mother felt and he can only imagine the bliss she felt at the idea of being reunited with her again or at least, not feeling the pain of your absence, anymore. 

  You only play songs Astarion likes- he notices. It fills his heart with hope, but he also didn’t realize how many happy, cheerful songs he has taken such a liking to. 

 It is because of you, after all, so it’s fitting that you would be the one to perform them. It sounds better when you play them and Astarion is certainly ruined for any other bard from here on out.  

  His entire life, his soul, and even 200 years of torment seem to have been balanced with every moment he has with you- now you are here and playing violin for him as if it’s the simplest task in the world. 

 After 200 years of keeping his candle alight, you are still helping him to see more clearly- your love, your life, your laugh, everything about you, has given him back a spark he never thought he would find again.

 He would marry you tomorrow if he could. You could travel together, live anywhere in the world, and the possibilities are entirely endless. Maybe one day you will both find a couple of wish scrolls to reverse your respective afflictions.

  You would never know what it means to be unloved again. You would never want for anything because Astarion would find a way for you to get whatever you needed and then some. 

 You play with the same vigor you started with- even though it’s been about an hour. People are gathered around you in awe, but not a single gold coin. 

 Astarion gets up and places a couple coins in your case- others quickly swarming. You look at him and Astarion swears he sees the emotions he wants you to feel towards him.

 Love, happiness, belonging. 

  Several hours go by before you end up back in bed with him- cuddling close. Astarion had complimented you until your entire face and neck were a blush red color and, admittedly, he was thrilled that you had turned down every man who had asked to get to know you tonight. 

 However, there was one thing he struggled to understand.

“Why did you play songs that are my favorite, Darling?”

 You look embarrassed and avoid his gaze.

“You are the only one worth playing for,” you whisper, “and I wanted to do something for you because it makes me happy when you are happy.” 

  Astarion looks at you and you look at him. 

 “You make me happy just by being you,” he whispers, “never change, Birdie.”

  You smile and snuggle closer into him. He doesn’t even try to stop the pleased sigh that leaves his body. You relax significantly more after that. 

 “My mom used to put a gold coin in my case when I played in public,” you smile, your tears a mix of wistfulness and grief, “she said it made other people feel obligated to do it.” 

 Astarion snorts, “that was exactly what I was thinking- great minds think alike.” 

  You laugh and the sound fills his chest with adoration. He is truly truly fucked. Astarion doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone, but this feels pretty damn close to what books describe.

  He isn’t ready to shatter the illusion or go plummeting like Icarus when you ultimately reject him. 

 Astarion is grateful for your breathing evening out and he let’s himself continue to bask in the illusion that you are his and he is yours.

*****************************************************************

   You stand near Astarion’s location and sip on your flute of Champagne- trying to soothe the bruises to your ego as Astarion confronts his mark. He flashes you a look every once in a while- frustration and fear. 

  You weren’t supposed to be there, but you had snuck after him- letting him think you would stay in Gale’s tower and spend the evening with them. 

  You had argued against it for the entire day- he used to take you everywhere, why is he suddenly leaving you behind all the time?

 “You have no proper fighting skills,” he said in exasperation, “and it’s not like I can fit you into my bag anymore- even that wasn’t safe enough!”

  He left in a huff and you waited a while before trailing after him. Unfortunately, he caught you pretty quickly right outside the party- pulling you into the bushes and telling you to go back. You refused and he caved, but you had to stay out of the way. 

  “I want you to know that I personally have no problem with you being here,” Astarion says to the imposter Marqui of Nesmé , “I actually find dogs to be relatively good company from time to time.”

The man looks positively flabbergasted under the pounds of make-up and a disguise glamor- he’s evidently not very good at protecting his identity. You can hardly judge though- Astarion  is all melodramatics with pretty words and funny quips- he could disarm even the most apathetic of individuals. 

  Astarion is also hardly inconspicuous with the amount of male and female attention he attracts- the Marqui is obviously noticing this now too as people begin to murmur around them. 

 You are already anticipating possessing the ‘Marqui’ and dragging him outside before he (or Astarion) can crash the Duke of Waterdeep’s Ball. Duke-what’s-his-nuts had demanded that his guards rid Waterdeep of all Werewolf presence that had infiltrated the citiy’s walls. The order was put out due to the recent slaughtering of livestock and increased infection rate, but his guards failed. He was furious! He wanted to be the one who gets to brag about saving the day!

 Thankfully the Duke isn’t privey to the fact that the stranger who will be earning his gold this evening is like a  character from a children’s book; most of his plans are not thought through- despite how many times he has learned that lesson- and the execution is… well sloppy.

 However, you would be lying if you didn’t say the lack of a plan is rather exciting. You enjoy thinking on your toes- you miss being the ‘brains’ of the operation and getting to be involved, but you will settle for this for now.

  The man says something that you can’t hear- Astarion puts his hand over his chest in shock and takes two dramatic steps back. You can’t help the little bit of laughter that rises up your chest- Gods he’s adorable.

 “Did you just-? Did anyone else hear that!?” Astarion says with fake distress, “this man just threatened me!”

  The other man is panicking now- realizing that Astarion is, in fact, the one fearless asshole who isn’t going to let him leave alive without a fight.

“Will you shut your mouth already!? I did not threaten you! I merely suggested you walk away! I can give you gol-“

“With a knife to my chest, nonetheless,” Astarion says, barely containing his grin and keeping up the act, “I am positively flabbergasted- bamboozled. How dare I be treated this way in my own Duke’s home!”

 “And then attempt to bribe him!?” Some gorgeous woman says before throwing her croissant at the werewolf man, “do you have no shame!? This man is a sweetheart! A hero!” 

  Suddenly multiple nobles are throwing their food or drinking glasses at the man. Red, angry magic begins to flow out of his skin. You are struggling to contain your laughter- how in the hells Astarion managed to pull this off is a mystery to you, but you are enjoying every moment.

 “Fifty years! We’ve been married fifty years!” the unknowing widow cries, “you aren’t my Daniel!”

 “Of course I a-“

 Astarion looks positively annoyed that the woman has stolen his spotlight and is causing the Marqui to panic even more- you had heard rumors that the Marqui had been abnormally affectionate with his wife as of late and referring to her as “My Marquess”. That poor woman has to be so confused.

 “GUARDS!!!!!” Astarion screams, “THERE’S AN IMPOSTER TRYING TO FOOL A DEVASTATED WIDOW!”

 “WIDOW!?” 

  Leave it to Astarion to find the worst way to tell a Wife she’s now a Widow. 

 The Marquess cries out dramatically for the crowd- well known across the town as having a flair for the dramatic. In the meantime, Wolfie is still trying to fix his blunder, but continues to fail miserably. 

“Uh your name is…. Allison?”

 “MORGANA! MY NAME IS MORGANA!”

 The crying continues and the Marquess slaps the man staring at her with his eye twitching.

 Astarion flashes the Werewolf a shit eating grin- the same grin he wears when he knows he’s caught someone in a lie. The imposter is trembling in rage, the Marquess is performing her grief with so much agony that she looks like she is going to pass out, and Astarion continues to Goad the man.

 You look around the crowd with watchful eyes- the scene Astarion is making is attracting more attention by the minute. Yet he’s still incredibly charming while he throws insults in the Werewolf’s direction. All the women and men are practically swooning- if only they knew what a terrible planner he is.

 “Ha!” Astarion releases a laugh of victory, “you didn’t even bother to try to find out his wife’s name? How inconsiderate- look at the poor thing- she’s devastated! Her husband is dead, she has the face of an ancient spinster, and some stinky heathen didn’t even bother to try to play the part right.” 

  The Marquess is definitely more upset about the comment on her looks than her husband being in the Fugue plane. She doesn’t remain sad about it for two long though because the Werewolf summons a shadow blade and shoves it between her eyes. The crowd begins to scream and run around frantically in the ballroom.

 You catch the man flashing you a wicked smile through the crowd and sizing you up out of the corner of his eye before looking at Astarion. You barely hear what he says next as you make your way over. 

“I’d be careful with your next move, Spawn,” the man’s voice is suddenly louder and more malicious, “it would be a shame for your lovely friend over there to develop Lycanthropy, wouldn’t it?”

  Astarion waivers for a half of a second before he goes completely blank. Your stomach turns over at the statement- probably because becoming a Werewolf is one of the last things (maybe even a throw away item) on your bucket list. You aren’t sure you can become a werewolf, but you would prefer not to find out.

  The werewolf and Astarion  continue to face off in the middle of the room, the guards struggling to get past the sea of “innocents”. 

 “Well, aren’t you one to ruin the fun?” Astarion says darkly, a stark contrast to his earlier tone, “now you’ve gone and made it personal- it’s a shame, really. I was hoping we could be friends someday.” 

 “A disgusting creature like yourself? My friend?” Wolfie laughs bitterly as his transformation begins to take over.

 “Pot,” Astarion gestures to the man before himself, “meet Kettle.”

 The man lets out a hungry growl and his skin tears unnaturally.  Now in full Werewolf mode- the Imposter begins to lash out at Astarion who manages to dodge every blow until Mr.Werewolf picks up a woman and flings her at Astarion- he topples over to the ground from the impact and surprise. Wolfie begins to stalk towards Astarion, licking his sharp canines as he creeps forward.

 What happens next takes mere seconds, but it feels like it happens in 10 hours as your legs make their way across the gap, silver dagger in hand, before unceremoniously lodging the weapon into the Werewolf’s throat. A high pitched, pained howl escapes the werewolf’s lips as he keels over. That was so much easier than you tho-

 “GUARDS!” The Duke says as the guards come running towards the scene, “THAT COUPLE NEED TO BE ESCORTED OUT OF MY HOME! Those degenerates are not supposed to be here!!”

  Thought too soon.

 “YOU RAT BASTARD!” Astarion yells, “you hired me to kill him!”

 “Oh did I?” The Duke shoots back with a grin, “and why in the world would I waste my money on the likes of you?”

 You just barely helped Astarion up from his daze when the Vampire is grabbing your wrist and dragging you through the crowd, away from the guards. Eventually he drops your wrist when you are right on his heels, but the guards really aren’t that far behind. 

  You follow Astarion closely as he takes sharp corners and jumps over furniture as he leads you out of the looming castle and up one of the towers. It feels like yards are being added to their escape attempt because the stairs never seem to end. You are beginning to hear the rattle footsteps of guards getting closer to you and your heart rate speeds up even more in fear. 

 “Star,” you manage to yell out between breaths, “what’s the plan!?”

 “I’m working on it!” He yells back at you.

  Astarion suddenly changes course, exiting the tower through one of the doors. You chase him across the ramparts, through another door, and try not to lose your balance as he goes sprinting right down a hallway with an open window.

His plan is to jump!?

  You are suddenly being yanked into Astarion’s chest as he goes leaping out of the window- a scream of terror dies in your throat as you go plummeting towards the ground from the 80 foot drop. With a flash from Astarion’s hand- you go tumbling and you both land at the portal entry in Gale’s house.

 Your head is still spinning, but Astarion is already upright and he looks furious. 

 “What in the HELLS WERE YOU THINKING!?” he screams, you flinch at the sound, “are you trying to get us both fucking killed!? No scratch that- are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

 You don’t know how to respond. You feel frozen and small. 

 He sighs, “this is a mistake- I am going to write Halsin tomorrow after the wedding and see if you can’t live with him for a while.”

“What!?” You sound even more shattered than you thought you would, “Astar-“

“No,” he begins to stalk towards the door, “you can-“

“YOU USE TO TAKE ME EVERYWHERE!” You scream at the top of your lungs, not wanting him to keep bowling you over in this conversation, “and now what!? I’m boring- I’m not enough? What is it!? Because you are not sending me away like I’m a child! We are EQUALS!”

  Astarion looks at you and for the first time all week- you finally see him again. He looks broken all over, like he had only left Szarr palace mere days ago instead of months. There are even tears in his eyes and you move without thinking- wrapping your arms around him- he is quick to reciprocate and hug you even tighter.

 “That isn’t it,” he whispers, looking defeated, “I don’t know if I could handle losing you again- especially not now.” 

“Then why are you pushing me away?” You choke on your own words, “what is going on?” 

  You feel him shake his head- a sign he isn’t ready to talk about it yet. 

“Okay,” you sigh, “if that’s what you want, I will live with Halsin for a while.“

  Fat, wet tears hit your shoulder and you know he’s thinking. About what? You aren’t sure, but you hope he is changing his mind. The last thing you want is to go live with Halsin. You want to be with Astarion and you accepted a while ago that a romantic relationship would never be in the cards for you- despite how in love with him you are.

“No, it’s not what I want. That’s probably actually the very last thing I want, but I am so worried about you that what I want doesn’t seem important,” Astarion sighs and holds you even tighter, “I will start taking contracts that you can go on again so you can keep practicing.

“And it would be nice to have you back,” he murmurs, “it’s all rather boring without you.” 

“Then please stop pushing me away,” you plead and he looks at you- still holding onto each other, “I don’t know what happened, but I feel like you don’t want me around at all anymore.” 

  “I am… going through something personal and,” he pauses, “I just need more time before I am ready to talk about it.”

 You furrow your brow and you can feel your frustration trying to get the best of you, but you have to respect his boundaries.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I promise- I want you around,” Astarion says, wiping away the tears staining your cheeks, “more than anything and once I figure out my, uh, personal matters- I will let you know what I find.”

“Okay.” 

 You leave it alone- Astarion says he needs alone time.

 You can’t help but feel defeated. You had hoped he had the same feelings for you when you played all of his favorite music. Obviously he doesn’t. 

  Alone time usually means he’s off to find someone in a brothel and probably won’t be back until the morning at the latest. He will come home smelling of someone’s cheap cologne or perfume and will surely have a story to tell about the person's bed he ended up in last night. 

   You feel your unwilling tears begin to flow as you sit on the couch on the balcony in the living room- your arms wrapped around your knees and your knees to your chest. 

  Or maybe he is meeting with someone he really really likes and doesn’t want to introduce you. Maybe that’s the personal matter- he doesn’t want to introduce her or him or them to you yet because he’s worried you are going to be an absolute freak about it and go crazy since it’s obvious you are obsessed with him. 

  At least you tried or at least that is what you keep telling yourself. 

“Birdie! How was- wait what’s wrong!?” 

  Oh no, it’s Tav. You really like Tav- you do- but she is Astarion’s friend and is probably going to tell you to get over yourself.

  You wave a dismissive hand, “oh nothing- just so moved by how beautiful the moon is.”

  There isn’t a peep from behind you so you assume she shrugged and walked off. 

“Where is Astarion?”

  Nope, too good to be true. 

“He is, um, having alone time.” 

  You don’t mean to make it sound so venomous.

“Oh? I might need some more context,” she says with an awkward chuckle, “that doesn’t sound terrible?”

 You let out a huff of annoyance.

“It means he’s at a brothel or, considering our earlier conversation, he’s with a person he really likes,” you murmur under your breath. 

  The silence is damning. 

 “Why would you think that?”

  So you are right- Tav sounds uneasy. 

 “Gods,” you hop off the couch and look at Tav with your bloodshot eyes and arms crossed, “I don’t know because I played all of his favorite songs at the park as a sort of impromptu, ‘here is a set for you! The person I care about more than anything else in the world’! Oh by the way- THIS IS A TRADITIONAL WAY A BARD PROFESSES THEIR FEELINGS!!!!

“We fall asleep in the same bed, in each other’s arms and up until the day we went fucking dress shopping- I really thought I had the right idea. Obviously…. I was wrong.” 

  Tav is just looking at you and she looks like she has no idea what to say to you. You just shake your head in defeat.

“Good night Tav,” you say, “I hope this can stay between us.” 

 You go past the shell shocked woman and go marching back upstairs to your shared room with Astarion. Tav told you that you were welcome to any room if you wanted your own, but that was when Astarion wanted you around. Maybe it’s time to take her up on the offer. 

  You pack your stuff together and drag it out the door towards the next room over. You catch a glimpse of Tav who looks like she’s panicking and has no idea what to do.

“Oh um that room is going to be occupied!”

 You look at her lamely, “when?” 

 “Uh two days from now.”

 “Okay,” you say flatly, “then in two days I will clean everything up for you and find an inn- if that’s alright with you.”

“You really don’t want to stay with Astarion anymore?” Tav says with a nervous chuckle, “maybe you should talk to him before you-“

“There isn’t anything to talk about Tav,” you snap, immediately regretting it, “I-I am sorry. I- please. I can’t keep humiliating myself like this.” 

  Tav looks extremely conflicted.

 “Okay.”

***********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

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[fareehaandspaniards]

Writing this headcanon post took me a VERY long time, because I usually write everything in one go, just "typing" as many thoughts and images as I can and then "pouring" it into a Microsoft word document and feeling like a genius xD First, when I met him and his references in the game for the first time, he was… unpleasant to me 💀 Very much 💀💀💀 And then hyperfixation happened, which can now be seen on my blog 💀💀💀… Welcome, blorbo #2, you will never be the first, because it is impossible to dislodge Damian from his throne (throne in the form of Gremia)… But you are still my favorite 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 (I changed his portrait a bit and it feels more in-character now)

^me writing

So, my Logarius is a half-pthumerian, half-breed. His mother is the woman on the portrait in the robes of the bell ringers, also pthumerian (I gave her the name Ionela).

As a child she saw the military clash between Cainhurst and pthumeru that took place in the dungeons. Her husband was one of the knights who served Cainhurst faithfully and died early. He was a pureblood nobleman, and his ancestors were among those who had separated from pthumeru centuries ago to establish their own, separate branch of the family with blood drinking and luxury. Ionela and her husband had produced two boys, twins, Rogerius and Rutger. Ionela had a good place at court and even had close relationship with Annalise's mother, the past queen of Cainhurst, and there was a kind of friendship between them that helped Ionela stay near royal family, since her husband had been a source of influence before. And both boys were granted the title of page, both were to become knights. Roger and Rutger both closely communicated with little Annalise, and even though the princess lived surrounded by governesses and teachers, the three sometimes played together. Roger was more closed - he dreamed of his deceased father, for he knew what a glorious warrior he had been. He had tried to be more manly and strong since his childhood, when Rutger was more romantic and prone to fantasies, tenderness and feelings. Little Rutger had sympathy for young Annalise, and Annalise had eyes for young Roger (it was mutual). (Oh no, Fareeha is making up love triangles again.)

I read that this ^^^ is a portrait of Logarius/King Cainhurst from the time when the two were one (actually, from that fact comes the fact that to me they are twins). So Rutger and Roger's appearance can be imagined based on the portrait. I really like to think that young Rogerius and princess Annalise might have been in love with each other the way children can be in love - very pure and innocent. He may have even kissed her on the cheek once, and it remained a little secret between them, which would later dissolve into all the grief that would happen to them. In any case, all three were gradually growing up. Rogerius served as a page to one of the nobles, a knight as worthy as his father, and that man was the very "foreign" executioner whose gloves have been passed down from generation to generation that we find in the castle.

I know that the executioner of Cainhurst and the executioners of Logarius are two different things, however, in my vision Logarius was very much inspired by his first mentor, an executioner from southern lands. Also, I was initially confused about the executioner in the castle. In my vision, the executioner is supposed to be an unsightly figure, someone who "cleans up the dirt" by executing transgressors and traitors. He was supposed to be a very strong and cruel man, cold-blooded and used to death, living in the shadow of the nobles. However, reading the Japanese forums led me to think that the Executioner could have been a VERY honorable man? Even an honorable knight, maybe even close to the affairs of the royal court.

And it just so happened that young Rogerius served him as a page, helping with weapons, learning fighting techniques, and preparing for knighthood. And part of the ideology of the executioner, whom I named Manuel, was passed on to Logarius. More specifically, it was his ability to kill quick and mercilessly and his ability to unmistakably identify people whose blood starts to deteriorate and lead them to turn into a beast and be cursed. And also interest to blood and anatomy... Young Rogerius thought a lot about blood back then. There were too many things occupying his young head. He grew up without a father, like his brother, but inwardly suffered more from it. While his brother, Rutger, reached out to the rest of the nobility and was sociable, Rogerius looked for a mentor in everyone, the one person who would be ONLY his (a kind of possessiveness), and in simple words had huge daddy issues.

Serving to an executioner, he saw more than once people turned into beasts because of blood, and also...

"It is said that the nobles found immeasurable delight in the dances of these vengeful specters"

(I can understand them. But he couldn't). Rogerius even began to take a certain dislike to Annalise because of this. Rogerius was also intrigued by his own roots as a pthumerian, but his mother restricted him from trying to learn more. Ionela had long ago renounced her heritage and did not want her son to seek knowledge, especially after the military clash there was a "taboo" on the subject of their ancient history.

Rogerius was very close to his mentor, and after growing up a bit more, even experienced a heartfelt affection and even passion for him. In general, daddy issues of Logarius for me is a very important detail of his personality, because a kind of "father" he will be looking for during his whole life, and this aspiration influenced him a lot.

The longing for roots and the rebellion against the foundations of Cainhurst made him (already a withdrawn introvert) live with thoughts in his own head, where he tried to envision the world as a much better place than it was. And in his vision, the best way to "cleanse" the world was to eliminate all those who carried curse. However, he kept these thoughts to himself. All through his youth he had served faithfully as a squire, and his mentor Manuel was very pleased with him. And he was his first lover, which strengthened Rogerius' attachment even more, and later made him "idealize" the image of a bloodthirsty and apathetic executioner.

As time went on, the bond between Rogerius and his brother became increasingly fragile. Despite being twins, they became very different. Sometime around his 16th birthday, Annalise was crowned on the death of her mother. And from that point on, despite her sympathy for Rogerius, they stopped seeing each other altogether. She had too many responsibilities, and Rutger, who was courting her and preparing for future knighthood, was prophesied to be her husband.

Roger's obsession with his own ideas, his slight fear of blood, his honed ability to kill PEOPLE, not beasts, made him very superstitious and suspicious from a young age. I mean, he began to give things their own meaning, hidden meanings, and also, when his beloved mentor passed away, dying from the claws of a bloodsucker, Rogerius took it as a sign.

^ Bill Cypher LMAO

To this day, I still wonder - the Radiance - what is it? Is it the voice of the Great One we don't know about? Since it's an existing Rune of Caryll, obviously Logarius has some sort of connection to divine providence after all. My headcanon is that this rune, or rather the shining eye, is something that came to him in dreams. You know - a recurring dream? On the fifth or sixth time, you already realize what's happening in the dream and just observe the events (just recently I had such a dream. It's not related to fanaticism though xd). He may have drawn something from higher matter to him, desperate to find a parent, and also realizing the concept of blood work and the corruption within Caihurst. Perhaps some Great one sensed in him someone vulnerable and sensitive enough to carry the ideals of "purity" forward.

I also had the idea that the Great Ones had nothing to do with it, and Logarius was just a fanatic of his own ideas conveniently falling into the hands of the Church, but Rune! Too much for one Logarius - for all of this to be just his imagination?

Now, he had a vision of the Radiance. The purest it can be, firing all "filth". It sounds a lot like the flames of the Inquisition, of which Logarius will essentially become the head, seeing himself as a savior and righteous man. It's a vision he jealously concealed, trusting no one. Perhaps he would reveal himself to his master if latter was alive. But for now, Rogerius was only slowly going mad, trying to see if his dream was true or not. His behavior many found strange, for he would begin to whisper to the void, and a small offering plate could be found in his chambers. He was slowly sinking into a belief in the golden light that guided and instructed him. (Yes, yes, a huge parallel to Ludwig. However, whereas Ludwig was "bewitched" by the turquoise light of his sword, Logarius sought contact and prayed to the golden eye that came to him. He was now beginning to believe that if something bad happened to him - he was not diligent enough in his prayers or had somehow stained himself with sin)

After a while, Rogerius grew up and was knighted. So was Rutger. (@katyspersonal Remember when you asked me in the tags below the post with my portrait of Logarius in armor??? Here's the context! Sorry it took so many months xD) At this point, somewhere within the castle walls, little Maria is growing up, looking dreamily at the Knights of Cainhurst, dreaming of becoming one of them. After another time, Rutger was engaged to Annalise, by mutual affection and a desire to bear the burden of ruling together (I won't call their union true and only love. Annalise may have been too busy to give vent to her feelings). A year later a beautiful wedding took place.

A castle must still somehow receive provisions and still have knowledge of what goes on outside its walls. I also believe that the royal family of Cainhurst contributed to the founding of Byrgenwerth once upon a time. It would be a reasonable investment for them - keeping in touch with the outside world, patronizing the sciences, and helping a town you want to have friendly relations with.

But one day (years later) the provost of Byrgenwerth - not quite old Willem, accompanied by Gehrman and father of Laurence and several other scholars, requested an audience with the Queen. Willem asked for Cainhurst's help and sponsorship to investigate the ancient catacombs of Pthumeru, discovered near Yharnam. Annalise approved of the idea, the 18 year old knight Maria was seized with enthusiasm and excitement, and Logarius saw it as his chance to finally break free from the shackles of the castle and explore his origins. The arrangement was simple, I think. Cainhurst gives Byrgenwerth warriors and money, and Byrgenwerth gives Cainhurst the relics of their lineage and information about what became of the remnants of the Pthumerians.

During the audience, Laurence's father got a good look at what weapons and medicine Cainhurst has, Willem made new contacts and met the new queen and her future consort, Gehrman met a curious girl and the castle's formidable guardian, Rogerius. Of all the people he saw, Logarius liked Gehrman specifically, he was called "the hunter" out of all of them. He was older, had a very soft timbre of voice and was tense, as if before a fight, always ready to stand up for the people entrusted to him. Logarius even showed him the knights' armory himself, inspiring him to set up his own workshop in the future.

Logarius won't decide to leave his post just yet, but after the visit of the delegation from Byrgenwerth, his visions will be brighter, stronger (and he'll also miss Gehrman a bit. Even though the two of them have spent very little time together, Logarius will miss the man who was willing to listen to him and gently approve of his lectures in a fatherly way. My Gehrman is "father" to half the characters lol).

Laurence's father talked a lot about his theory "On the Properties of Blood". In his dreams, Logarius will start seeing blood all the time and gradually even start his own experiments on it (But his knowledge is based on Cainhurst's teachings, which in turn are based on Pthumeru and Loran and so on). His experiments are less science and more magic. With his sensitivity to blood purity he could serve as a machine to determine if there were impurities in the blood. I think the Blood Saints samples will be his favorite in the future 💀

Using blood magic, he also performed some medical experiments on corpses and sometimes relatively living people. (Like Leonardo da Vinci. Only perhaps less consciously. Like a child trying to mix paints) I think as a trusted knight he could afford it.

Very soon Maria was sent to Byrgenwerth - at her great request and as a "gift" with a few more warriors - help and an offering, and also a reminder that Cainhurst is waiting for results.

I don't know how long it should take for the Fishing Hamlet to happen? A month, a year? But by this point we have the King and Queen of Cainhurst, Rutger and Annalise, and also the King's brother, Knight Rogerius. He is cold, aloof, strict, and keeps his subordinates disciplined (as well as himself). His chambers gradually became a refuge for his religious ideas. The golden light became not just a dream, but part of his personality, an integral light with which Logarius conversed, prayed to, and asked for guidance. A great reminder that "If you talk to God, it's a prayer, and if God talks to you, it's SHIZOPHRENIA (c). (Katy knows what I mean lol)

So it was that Logarius was gradually starting to have. Joking, but not a joke. If he'd even let anyone into his humble abode, perhaps his obsession would have been revealed much sooner? But the knight had no lovers, he rejected the services of palace servants, annoying everyone around him, and his mother couldn't get any communication with her son, nor could she get into his chambers. So there was a real pustule forming inside Cainhurst. So far, however, Rogerius still prayed for a long life for Annalise (his prayers reached heavens!) and his brother, though he thought his twin was a weakling and the queen was too soft.

At certain moment, the letters from Maria stopped coming, as any research from Willem, and artifacts from the upper floors of the catacombs (Byrgenwerth simply Couldn't go deeper yet. Tomb Prospectors don't exist yet).

But one night a carriage does arrive at Cainhurst. Exhausted scholar, more like a madman, he requests a meeting with the queen to offer her an unknown blood sample that Byrgenwerth wanted to withhold. (Laurence's father in my headcanons is a Cainhurst fan, a true simp and adorer. So yes, he stole the blood to bring it to the queen) Logarius doesn't like it, he doesn't understand why royal family should meet a traitor. However, the queen is interested in the new blood.

Next, the idea of Child of Blood probably appears. I can't tell what it is, a desire to regain former greatness? Reunite with the Great Ones through the Child? To bring forth the "Übermensch"? This point is still vague to me for now; perhaps when I write Annalise separately, I'll be able to figure it out. But for now, from Logarius' point of view - his visions and dreams are starting to come true. He sees nobles accepting blood from the queen, sees his own brother's enthusiasm, and sees ancient echoes dancing in the blood. Some nobles are also extremely unhappy with the situation. Normally, a split in noble (as well as religious) society would lead to bloody massacres, but so far both sides are silent, and Logarius tries to talk only to his brother and convince him that all this is heresy. But Rutger has grown too fond of Annalise and too loyal to Cainhurst. And even arguments about their shared true homeland don't help. Logarius sees him as a puppet of an ambitious woman.

Later, Logarius declares that he wishes to help Byrgenwerth with his research, as well as to find the roots of his lineage. And having an excuse, will take a few people with him - those who were willing to follow him. (Importantly - Logarius isn't a Vileblood himself. He fleed to not bring a vow) He didn't lie when he said he would help Byrgenwerth, however, he withheld that he had no intention of returning. Then he had to destroy all traces of his worship of the golden idol and clean his own chambers although he feels uncomfortable doing that even for an urgent reason. There is even a conversation between him and Annalise before he leaves. Annalise by that point is a determined, confident, but still kind woman. And she didn't see his radical sentiments as a conspiracy, because I like to think she still had sympathy for him (And it was mutual. It's just that his expressions of sympathy always look really weird).

Logarius leaves the castle with a few soldiers and even three like-minded nobles. They have all supported his plan, but are yet unaware of the divine power that resides in his thoughts.

Along with Willem, Logarius enters the hidden service of Byrgenwerth and meets Laurence, the son of the very same heretic that ruined Logarius' life lol But Laurence's dislike of his father and the idea of taking the teachings of blood in a whole new direction - fascinate Logarius. Purity of blood, prayers, return to the Great Ones, but as humble servants returning to their patrons - this is how Logarius saw the future Church, the project of which was already maturing between the Provost and his best student. Logarius swore loyalty to them. Laurence managed to get himself the support of a knight by assuring that the future would be based on medical progress and faith. Logarius shared what was happening in his castle, and Laurence and Willem presented him with an opportunity to realize his potential - combining his skills with Gehrman's to become a fighting unit of the future Church.

Maria was not privy to the details (Logarius treated her like a child in a way. He considered her too innocent to know the whole point. He didn't know yet how the Fishing Hamlet had changed her), and neither did Gehrman. All anyone knew was that a dutiful knight from Cainhurst had joined the research to help, and several other nobles along with him. Active research of the catacombs and conversations, developments, projects began. The Order of Executioners does not yet exist. There is Logarius in his heavy Cainhurst armor and his people helping the first hunters. For now, Gehrman's workshop is a haven for all sorts of people. And Logarius also chooses his own weapon, a Pthumerian scythe he found in the Tombs, which becomes the inspiration for the Burial Blade.

Caryll and Logarius inevitably meet. And the result of their crossing for Caryll is series of visions, and he tells Willem about them. Logarius tells young Caryll about his dreams, and then observes a miracle - the young man carves on a tablet the figure that came to him in his dreams, Bill Cypher. Logarius is convinced of his chosenness, his followers are stunned, and Laurence realizes that he has snatched a very large prey. Here comes the apogee of Logarius' obsession with his ideals. Thanks to the discovery of the Rune, he sees the pure truth in his dreams and from this point on he will begin to openly worship his personal idol, and his followers will follow him (This is where the Executioners begin).

I can't say, by the way, that Caryll and Logarius' relationship after this contact was even friendly. Caryll was too physically weak for Logarius to truly respect him, but too important to reject him. But knowing my Caryll's character, the scholar would rather show the knight the middle finger and snort than make contact. Logarius and his teachings have always frightened Caryll. However, Laurence was not willing to listen to any outrage. Caryll initially knew that everything would end in bloodshed, however, he felt that none of his loved ones would be harmed, and so he tried to remain calm.

It was somewhere around this point that Rogerius becomes Logarius, a name he gave himself in order to sever his connection to home. Executioners, a name he chose in memory of his mentor and in honor of the title held by those who had the duty of eliminating and cleansing Cainhurst of the wicked, be they human or beast. In short, he truly believed he was doing the right thing. I think that the idea of the Cainhurst raid was already there between Laurence and Logarius back then. They just didn't publicize it. Laurence benefits from it, and Logarius fancies it his holy mission, even though he feels sorry for Annalise. (But only "Feels sorry" No remorse. Just sadness that she will have to die one day, and he liked her, after all)

Also, during his time with Byrgenwerth, Logarius meets another man. His path crosses with a bandit who hails from Hemwick (and this guy is around sixty y.o.). His body is very strong, but his organism is weak - he smokes from a young age, and also eats whatever he can get. He robs the rich and robs the poor too, he is a misanthrope, a murderer and a man without morals - he has seen too much in life, so he values only strength and the ability to survive. He has lost his relatives, his little son and a wife, so he lives as if every new day is the last. He rarely feels pity, he does not shy away from robbery and plunder, he kills the innocent and the guilty, because he does not care - one day everyone will die. This man's name was Bernard.

They faced each other in battle, and at first they were completely on equal footing. Bernard knew the tricks of Cainhurst knights too well, while Logarius found his quick actions and attacks too reckless. And despite the fact that Bernard was objectively stronger and more cunning than Logarius, the latter came out victorious. The bandit waited for his death, but Logarius did not finish him off - because he was interested. A man of years, formidable and much seen, a criminal, but so empty inside, maimed. And yet there was no madness or bloodlust in him, only indifference. Thus he reminded Rogerius his first mentor very much...

Logarius wanted to help. That's how they learned each other's stories - Bernard told him about himself, his hideous fate and outlook on life, and Logarius told him about his visions and his desire to eradicate the evil that surrounds the city, as well as about Cainhurst and his intentions for the Vilebloods. Logarius will even help him See the Shining, sharing with him what he sees himself to help him find faith. Bernard vows to follow him and Logarius shared his own blood with this man to help.

And so the future Queen Killer joined the Executioners, Logarius' closest associate, a man with many vices, but nevertheless loyal to him and believing in his ideas. And his new daddy. An amusing but funny detail is that when Bernard first entered the Grand Cathedral, several people recognized his face. One had had his barn burned down by Bernard in the past, and another had had his cattle slaughtered. So Yharnam's reception of him was difficult, but did Bernard care? Bernard would immerse himself in dogma and prayer, live by rules new to him, and has a sense in life because of Logarius. He will be able to use his great strength and skills as an assassin for "good".

I really enjoy building headcanons about this couple. As brutal and heartless as Logarius is, he's still a Knight with ideals, raised by etiquette and a strict code. And Bernard is the truest scrap of society, lacking even a shred of nobility. Nevertheless, they quickly established a common language, and Bernard even taught Logarius many "simple" wisdoms of life - domestic, survivalist and even love (together to roast meat or fix the church bench - it's so manly). Also yes, QK's funny habit of running around with no clothes on - has been almost always. He endured the first year after the Church was officially founded wearing the Executioners uniform, but then he'd still unbutton his shirt and throw off his cloak because he was used to the difficulty. By his logic, if you're incapable of surviving without armor, you're incapable of surviving anywhere. Typical Elden Ring player who thinks that leveling up, picking up builds and weapons is git gud Anyway, Logarius got himself a new "daddy". He was very similar to his first mentor - the true Executioner of Cainhurst, but was much more stern than the Gehrman who had impressed Rogerius. Perfection.

They also had the warmest father-son relationship between them. It started unspokenly, they never discussed it. It was just that Logarius was always asking his advice and help (something he usually NEVER did), looking for support, and Bernard was wary at first, and then accepted his new role. And even once stroked his head when Logarius went to sleep on his lap. And it's all very funny, considering Bernard is much shorter than Logarius. And when they hugged, his face was at the level of Logarius' chest.

(eng: "my little asshole" I assume that is the good translation, in russian it's just "my kiddo" in swearing words)

But back to the events.

Early Healing Church was founded. Logarius actively helps with the design and redesign of the cathedrals, and is also passionate about creating armor for Executioners and hunters. Contact with Cainhurst is still intact, with Laurence and Willem creating a semblance of friendship by displaying the fruits of their labors - various types of blood, as well as finds in the tombs. However, the curse of the beast and progress move together. Many more hunters are becoming necessary. No one informs Logarius that the Church is as interested in contact with the Great Ones as Cainhurst, and he is too busy with his idea to see it.

From the neighboring lands arrives a skillful warrior and hunter, expert in the art of battle and just a sunshine - Ludwig, still in a completely sane mind and set up for great deeds and glorious battles.

The Order of Executioners exists along with the Healing Church, but on its own, so they have their own hidden workshop, where Logarius fully realizes his religious mania. They live according to a certain daily routine: pray, sometimes perform bloodletting, and get punishments for misdeeds. And the Executioners are also often engaged in helping Gehrman's hunters - so far, few in number. And the ranks of the Executioners have widened. Originally, the squad consisted of Logarius and several nobles - skillful warriors. Now Bernard has been added to them, and then the yharnamites - nobles and commoners - joined ranks as well. But there is one thing that distinguishes all of them - only those who truly believe in the miracle of Logarius' Radiance remain in the Executioners, because the rest simply cannot stand the harsh training and strict lifestyle. Executioners are also very well fed, a logic close to gladiatorial goes here. More mass means a better chance of survival. Imagine holding a Logarius Wheel for a moment... (Bernard aka Queen Killer is an exception. He is not weak, he is dry-bodied)

Maria and her so-called "kin" from Cainhurst seen each other in Gehrman's workshop, but she senses changes in him. Logarius does not openly state his murderous intentions for Cainhurst, but tries to debate with Maria on the subject of the Vilebloods. And even believes that she will follow him, since she too did not appreciate the appearance of the Vilebloods. But Maria is only intimidated by his radical attitudes, and she does not share the idea of "To cure a sore finger, you have to cut off your hand."

During the events of the Early Healing Church, Logarius has also made some more new acquaintances.

The scholar Rom annoys him to no end. He doesn't even see her, because Rom is mostly at the Research Hall, working exclusively on experiments. But Laurence is constantly distracted by the thought of her, and in addition to progress, also dreams of marriage. Logarius begins to think that everyone around him is idiot or crazy. He sees in Rom the same Annalise that he used to see in all women he knew. And he thinks that a woman's attempts at self-rule won't lead to anything good.

Somehow I'm sure that he and Adeline could be a great couple, or at least acquaintances… I could really ship them. The problem is that in my vision of the story they only met a couple times, but both were satisfied with the fact xD You see, they both get visions and aspire to their Great One, both are rebels, and Adeline on top of that is an aristocrat and a Blood Saint, her blood would appeal to him especially. I think if I draw Logarius/Adeline ship art one day, you can consider - that's it, I've reached my peak of shipping (not true) xD But damn, they'd look so good. Two gremlins. Just a little bit more and I'll ship them

Logarius and Micolash barely knew each other, because Micolash wouldn't want to get caught by a man with a "sense" for impure blood, and who is a two meter tall big-ass macho with a huge scythe… lol. I think it was enough for Micolash that Damian, who served as the Tomb Prospector under Ludwig's command, told him about Logarius.

Now to the Tomb Prospectors. Ludwig! I tirelessly believe he was their original leader, only later to put on the Executioner's cloak. As Logarius stayed in Cainhurst, the Executioners would need a new head… I've written a headcanon post on Ludwigarius before, but some things might change since then. Some points have stayed the same - they disliked each other at first sight. But they quickly grew close. After all, Ludwig was a true knight, the man Logarius wanted to become, and a compatriot of Manuel, the Executioner and Logarius' first teacher. Ludwig had enough experience to take command of a squad of seven fighters at once (and also to recruit them himself from the streets. He believed that it was better to train the ragamuffins to order than to mush the hunters already trained by Gehrman. The streets would be cleaner and the ranks of hunters broader. Only Damian was sent to him by Laurence.) Ludwig was caring and strict as a father to his soldiers, understanding, kind and very cheerful. And this disposition of his also struck a certain string in the heart of Logarius, who needed exactly this kind of man.

The Executioners and Tomb Prospectos were responsible for different tasks, but the people of Yharnam favored the Executioners. Because Ludwig's men were doing sinful things according to old beliefs (And Ludwig himself, despite his big heart, was distrusted and got a bad reputation because of his work). In short, I wrote all of this right here - X.

On top of that, one day Logarius was able to taste Ludwig, or rather his blood ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) And that, too, excited him - pure blood, a true heir to his ancestors, the blood of the lands southern to Yharnam, where people are sensitive to voices from beyond and insight. Except that in addition to the perfect shade of blood, he sensed something weird (the blood from Byrgenwerth that Laurence had injected Ludwig with, awakening visions in him)

Through the efforts of Laurence and Logarius, the Executioners and Tomb Prospectors have grown closer. The two leaders found common ground, and Logarius found another "dad". And if he was interested in someone, he wouldn't let them go. Often they trained together - so the vicar tried to accustom people to the idea that both squads deserve equal honor, as any order of the Church.

Gradually Logarius and Ludwig became secret lovers (I once mentioned that Ludwig callem him "kitten"? Well hi, that's it again. There was a huge room for love and tenderness in their couple, despite the fact that exactly the MOST brutal man in the Church needed those feelings. Logarius could feel warmth aroung Ludwig that he desired so much. But Ludwig didn't know about his plans). Logarius began to dream that when the time came to die for the purity of blood and on the ashes of Cainhurst, he would give the leadership of the remaining Executioners to Ludwig.

Also, Logarius knew Olek (Honestly, one day I'll drop a long-post with headcanons on him too. For now, he's the object of jokes and memes for my husband and myself) . Olek is a fan of pthumeru history. And despite being a child of the streets, he is a man of principles and with a huge desire for education. He learned to read from pthumerian fairy tales, and so has remained fascinated by the mysterious civilization for life (And later, the mad Olek will help the player kill Queen Yharnam in the Chalice). But his relationship with Logarius didn't go well. How so - a descendant of the Pthumerians, and so disrespectful to Queen Annalise? Olek could never understand him and disliked him, and Logarius liked to add to his after-hours training and duty. Just so he wouldn't slack off.

Logarius knew both Gremia and Damian. Gremia had always thought of him as a "pompous turkey" and resented their captain for getting so close to him. Damian preferred to stay out of the way and tried to make Gremia do the same.

Their glorious time together had left many memories and stirred many feelings. But at Cainhurst, too, time was passing. The Queen continued to receive letters from Maria and didn't know that later letters will be faked by the Church so they can hide her suicide. And even Logarius pretended to send news of himself and the progress of the Healing Church, which was considered an ally of Cainhurst.

Honestly, here I'm not sure, did Annalise or Rutger know how this was all going to turn out for Cainhurst? On the one hand, the Church had their two knights at once, but while Maria was known for her kindness and cold temper, Logarius always had oddities. And those oddities were justified by his brother, in an effort to make Roger look good. Rutger believed he had been badly influenced by their mother, and also that it was good for Rogerius to be away from home. Still, I think Annalise had misgivings that Logarius would do no good. However, both she and Rutger, deep down, loved him for old memories from childhood and faithful service.

Once Logarius even visited the family home, letting them know that all was well, and at the same time familiarized his men with the layout of the castle and checked the fortifications and knights for preparation. He had originally planned to betray and give Cainhurst to the Church, giving away all the hidden passages and secrets of the castle, but on his visit he saw Annalise - pregnant. (This is where I get very confused about the time. I don't know how long it's been, and a Blood Child pregnancy - can go overnight, as it was with Arianna, or it can take much longer, I suppose…) So after that, Logarius made the final decision on Cainhurst's fate (fear of women did the trick)

How did he see his assault on Cainhurst? I think he originally thought of himself as of suicider. "Die yourself and take every enemy with you", a "heroic" move to save others from a horrible fate. But to keep the spoil from spreading, it was necessary to get rid of ALL the Vilebloods (Bloody Crow of Cainhurst and Arianna will survive as we know. Arianna would be covered by the Healing Church, as she and her mother left one night before the massacre, and Bloody Crow would be picked up by Eileen).

Bernard promised him that they would die together. Bernard, by the way, became like Logarius himself because of the blood exchange. That's how I like to explain his unnatural pallor and long life. "Edward, you're a vampire!"

Preparations were already beginning for the assault.

The Tomb Prospectors had made a breakthrough, discovering the future Maiden of the Healing Church, Ebrietas, in the depths of the dungeons. The terrified Great One killed most of the squad, and the encounter with her was not at all "glorious" or "prophetic" as Laurence commanded to be recorded. In the records of the Church, Ebrietas was gained by meeting a prophetess (Rom) surrounded by warriors loyal to the Church. And in reality, one of the Tomb Prospectors was nearly maddened by what he saw when he met a Great One. A battle ensued. While this was happening, Ludwig wandered through the catacombs, almost unable to comprehend where he is because the sword was calling him, clouding his mind. Olek showed the first signs of madness, wandering alone and crying out for the blood of his ancestors. And Gremia and Damian saw with their own eyes how the "icon" of the Church and the idol killed their comrades (Ebrietas was terrified :( ).

The sword was gained, survivors were rescued, and Rom got busy contacting the Great One. And Ludwig's mind started to go down. Logarius devoted the remaining of time before the assault trying to ease Ludwig's soul and weaken the relic's influence. And in part, through the exchange of blood and visions, shared dreams - he succeeded. If Logarius had used his gift for good at all, things might have been much better. But so far he had only taught Ludwig to perceive the voices in his head and helped him get used to the discovery.

I think that because of the events that had befallen him at the last moment, Logarius didn't want to leave Yharnam. No, his bloodlust and thirst for fictional "justice" was still strong, but perhaps he would have stayed to look after Ludwig. Everything that happened with the First Hunter of the Church also made Logarius doubt Laurence (I'm not talking about Willem at all. Laurence sent him on vacation lol). But it was too late to change anything! And so he focused on the sacred mission.

The massacre was especially painful for the Queen. In the middle of the night, taking Cainhurst unexpectedly, the Executioners had complete advantage over the castle, knowing where the defenseless would take refuge and how to overpower the knights. I'm not sure to this day, Was the Blood Child born? Perhaps the baby was killed by Logarius, or perhaps it was miscarried and the umbilical cord was carried by the survivors to the Church (as cut content says). Logarius killed his own brother (And it's so symbolic, considering the castle is called Cain's Hill).

Most of the Executioners died in battle, and those few from Cainhurst who rebelled with Logarius suffered a terrible fate - vengeful spirits took them to the grave with them. Breaking through to the queen's chambers, staining his hands with blood, Logarius discovered her immortality, imbued with an aversion to unnatural sorcery. He himself was already beginning to undergo a metamorphosis - something inside him was rapidly changing - his brother's soul was with him now. The anger, the pain, the devastation of Annalise, which formed a symphony with the agony of all the slain, enveloped everything around him. And Logarius already knew that the castle would not let him go - he had absorbed too much.

Logarius gave Bernard one last order - to order the survivors to leave the castle now and never look behind them. Those who disobeyed, looting or doubting, were lost. And as hard as it was for Bernard to leave his master and almost son, orders were orders. Bernard and a few others left the castle, and the bridge collapsed behind them. Logarius put on the crown of illusion and was left to spend eternity among the native winds and snow. Thus ended the siege of Cainhurst.

Going off topic a bit, I've always wondered why the servants in the castle are called servants of Cain? A bit like Mergo's servants, especially since the Japanese version uses the same word for "servant". What if Cain is an Ascended Great One like Rom, someone from ancient times who sent Logarius visions? I've never seriously thought about that theory before, but I don't think it's anything worthwhile, just fun ideas. The soul of his brother and angry kin took possession of Logarius, chaining him to Cainhurst. Logarius assumed the role of king posthumously, still "taking" power, only already over a dead place. Annalise as a child saw Logarius as her chosen one, and Logarius imagined he would be a better ruler than Annalise or Rutger. So their dreams became truth.

The Church, as it always does, wrapped the massacre in a pretty wrapper. The Order of Executioners continued to live on, but lost its mystical beliefs as the spiritual leader was left sitting on the cold roof of his old home. There were many new recruits, including Alfred, and there were only a few True Executioners left, including Bernard, who would return to mercenary service and then fade away, boring Alfred with his tales of Logarius' adventures and all his oddities.

Bernard did not accept the way the Church had dubbed Logarius a "saint" and a "martyr", for him his master was first and foremost a man, but also a naive child, whom he had once taught the wisdom of life, with whom he had drunk together, whose tears and laughter he had seen and hold like a treasure. Bernard shared his blood with him, and afterward truly accepted him as his own son.

The outcome of the Cainhurst massacre was a blow also to Ludwig, who was unaware of what was happening until the last moment (as was the rest of Yharnham). The Cainhurst massacre frightened most Yharnamites - some cheered, some gloated. But those who knew that a vicar was at the very heart of the conflict were shocked (except Willem, I guess. Somehow I think Laurence's ambitions were long known to him)

Also, I might still add that Logarius would not have appreciated Alfred's efforts. Neither the prayers that Logarius can't hear, nor turning Annalise into a bloody mess. I think he put a helmet on her for a reason… We also see no signs of a beating (or at least no signs of Logarius using the Wheel) on the Cainhurst ghosts. So all the murders that took place there can be described as rather ritualistic. Superstitious fear of their own victims and obsession with their ideas. And the violence that Alfred did to the queen was absolutely senseless! After all, the goal was her death, not her torment.

The Logarius/Annalise pairing appeals to me a lot, but they are absolutely doomed by the narrative. She was too young and kind for him to respect her. And it took her going through the pain that Logarius himself brought to her to become a strong and cold queen. Only now she doesn't need him anymore. An absolute tragedy.

I'm also curious still what Annalise's mask is. As I recall, there is no definitive evidence that it was Logarius who put it on the queen? Perhaps her face was mutilated by him and she put the mask on herself? (There is a beautiful ribbon bow on the iron helmet for a reason) Her body does not regenerate, as we realized from the situation with Alfred and the bloody dress, she is only reborn time

Aaaand, my essay is coming to an end, as usual now come the little headcanons:

Logarius' hair has always been a huge concern for him. Such a luxurious mane must really get in the way in battle. And Bernard had suggested several times that he shave his head or at least cut his hair short. But Logarius treated it very reverently, because from his youth he had learned from books all the subtleties of caring for his mane.

Bernard has a photo of Logarius taken in Gehrman's workshop. Gehrman made one for his own little album, in which you can find photos of Laurence, Maria and many others. Bernard asked him to make the second one for him personally. Even though the photo required him to sit still, it captured Logarius's smile as he made a well-timed joke. Bernard kept this photo with him.

Logarius designed the Executioner's armor himself, inspired by the Church's patterns. Also, the silver riveted gloves were his idea, as he was very fond of hand-to-hand combat and considered it the most worthy form of battle.

He always had a passion for the arts, however, he was able to realize it much more during his service to the Church.

His blade, which is a replica of the sword from DS1 and Demon's Souls, I headcanon as a relic of Cainhurst, stolen right during the massacre.

Of all animals, Logarius favored dogs.

The great quote about kindness, as I've written elsewhere, belongs in part to Ludwig. Logarius was very inspired by his kind and compassionate nature and even tried sincerely to follow his example. And the Church attributed the words to Rogerius later.

He has a huge... praising kink. Huehuehuehuehue

From the way he looks in the game, it is unclear which part is his and which part is the King's, as their souls have merged together. However, his amulets are those of Logarius himself, which he wore to strengthen his connection to Divinity.

Logarius' prophecies almost always came true for reasons unknown to anyone <: Whether he was talking about rain or Laurence's future, it all turned out to be true

Whoever you are - you must be an incredibly patient person, or very interested in Logarius. Thanks for reading my huge essay <3 ;_;

[penny-the-pissed-poltergeist]

Jaunedice arc rewatch time time, Let's get this over with

.One of the worst parts about early Jaune is that he's too incompetent to any cool choreography in his fights

.They real did just give the characters video game health bars

.Oh no! Jaune lost to the guy who can casually bully people multiple school years above him, how surprising

.Ren, how the fuck would you know Nora's dream better than her... that makes no sense

.Really hope Ruby had something before or alongside cookies for lunch, that ain't good for you girl

.Velvet really needs to grow a fucking spine but that doesn't make everyone going "Oh he's so bad, it must be so hard for her" while doing nothing any less bad

... Why is Menagerie called that

.I think it would have been neat to make Oobleck a Faunus because his intro is him talking about Faunus lore and it would make him going asking Faunus in his class to publicly talk about their probably traumatic and sensitive experiences with discrimination a lot less invasive (It'd also be nice to a Faunus in power who isn't a traitor)

.The Faunus won the war but nobody ever fuckin acts like they did

.God I love Oobleck

.if Jaune told canon Pyrrha to kill someone, do you think she'd do it. She's 100% down to break Cardins legs

.Why is a Jaune quip the one suicide related thing in this series that actually lands for me?

.Did Cardin know they would be there or does he just like letting the wind in?

.You think a combat school would have good enough background checks to stop some guy from sneaking in but Jaune must have the best counterfeiting skills on remnant. even then you'd think his parents would at least be suspicious sense he had no proper combat training

."I can't do this on my own, what good am I?" You are already training as a part of school dude, stop being a stubborn loser

now on to Forever Fall....

.Ruby dropping the advice that destroys herself later (It's not always bad advice but god it became so toxic to herself)

.Cardin asking for some fucking bees, but not those bees

.Forever fall looking a bit cooler in the Black trailer but I still really like it here

."Professor Peach" Is expanded on in the books apparently but I'm point that out because there's a weapon's teacher called Herold Mulberry who's also only from the books so Ruby herself can't interact with him goddamn it.

.I will give Jaune one thing, He can SOMETIMES be funny, sometimes.

.Cardin's teammates haven't had a single line yet because they an 8th of a personalty each

.How is Nora slurping the sap that fast?

.Cardin calling Jaune "Jonny boy" gives me Maximilian Pegasus vibes

.How did Jaune's aura do that, we don't see Aura or the Aura amp do anything like that again

.Just send two more people away instead of letting them help you fight a giant ass bear because Yang and Blake totally can't deal with some grimm on their own

.Jaune has weirdly low endurance for the amount of aura he supposedly has

.People already say Jaune is "the real main character" but the problem of everyone but team RWBY feeling like the protag is something that crops up with both him and lots of other characters throughout the series.

.Remember kids if you want someone to stop bullying you, just save them from the fucking B E A R

.If someone is just watching the show without outside material, this is the first time anyone says the word semblance, no how short the episodes are doesn't negate how stupid this. Imagine if the first time hear the word mutation in an X-Man show was 8 episodes in, this is just brain meltingly dumb

.Pyrrha, all keeping that from Jaune is going to do is make him over estimate himself

.Oh yeah Jaune will never be a jerk again after this, he definitely learned his lesson. /S

[fruitfulcreations]

You're Beautiful, You're Lovely (Lúcio x Chubby!Reader)

Summary: The reader has been dealing with self-doubts, especially regarding their weight. One day, while training alone, they accidentally hurt themselves. But never fear! Lúcio is just around the corner. Literally.

Word Count: 2239

A/N: Rewriting some of my old x reader fics. Requests are open!

Melodia = Portugese word for melody (If this is incorrect, let me know! Unfortunately I have to use Google Translate to translate any other languages so it's not always 100% correct.)

There were a lot of things you didn’t like in the world: violence, war, when people were rude to staff, to name a few. Another thing you couldn’t stand was your body.

In reality, you weren’t bad-looking by any standards, but you jiggled too much for your liking. And although no one on your team had ever made a comment about your weight, you feared they thought it.

As you stood in your room, shirt clutched to your chest as you admired your reflection, you couldn’t help the forlorn sigh that escaped. Would you ever get his attention?

Him, being the object of your affections since the day you met him. Lúcio had made you feel less nervous about suddenly being thrown into the organization. His personality was always a beacon of positivity, never seeming to let a situation dampen his spirits.

You two had become quick friends in no time. Eventually, however, you started to realize you wanted to be more than that.

“Who am I kidding?” You mumbled to yourself, shifting your body at different angles. As much as your dreams were plagued with sweet images of him holding you, calling you his, or even waking up next to him, that’s all it was. Hopeless dreaming. There was no way someone as amazing as Lúcio would look twice your way.

You sighed, half from low spirits, the other half from the early hours of the morning; it’d be some time before another soul was awake. It was more peaceful around the base in the morning like this; there was less shouting and people around.

You grabbed your carefully packed bag, making your day down to the training grounds. It wasn’t much, just a few weights scattered around a fenced-in plot of land, but it was something you all made do with.

Putting Lúcio off your mind was a lot harder than you’d thought it’d be.

Just when you would get into the zone, your mind would somehow ease back into the way his eyes would crinkle when he laughed or how he was always teasing D.Va; the two of them were close, closer than you were, and although you were never jealous of their friendship, you wished you looked an ounce as beautiful as she did or had her skill in video games—you always kind of sucked at them.

Maybe it was because of the handsome and friendly Brazilian man that you didn’t hear the fence creak as someone entered the training grounds—or because you didn’t pay much attention when you were in the zone—but you didn’t register the warm hand until it was too late.

You jumped high into the air, your hand letting go of the weapon you’d been training with. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, the weapon landed on your foot, causing you to yelp out in surprise and pain.

The pain hurt worse than getting struck with one of Junkrat’s bombs, effectively waking you up more than any coffee could. You hobbled backwards, yelping again when a pair of strong arms caught you.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Melodia*,” the voice tickled right by your ear, sounding urgent, “Don’t move.”

Of course it had to be Lúcio. Why wouldn’t it be anyone else? Your words died on your tongue. You could only gawk as you felt the man’s strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Sorry,” the Brazilian man quickly apologized, as rushed as the movements of his hand. “I didn’t mean to curse—or to scare you. Are you alright? That looked like it hurt,” he said, already bending over to check your foot. His warm brown eyes met yours. “Can you move it? I didn’t expect to see anyone out here so early… I didn’t even bring my equipment,” he said. You finally noticed he was missing some of his equipment, mainly his sonic amplifier.

“Yeah.” You knew you were lying to yourself; even the smallest movement of your foot sent an uncomfortable jolt up your spine. Still, you gritted your teeth and tried to ignore the nagging and hissing voice in your ear.

He’s going to make fun of you, you know.

It was a thought, simple as that. It didn’t actually exist; it was only your mind and deepest insecurities attacking you. You shook away the invading thought, giving Lúcio a weak smile. “No,” you admitted. Your breath hitched as Lúcio’s hand brushed over your own. You pulled back your hand as though you may taint him. “You should go grab it!”

Lúcio smiled at you, shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t do that,” he said. Everything about him was so sincere—the way he leaned into you, not in a way that invaded your space, but as if he was letting you know he was there. You cherished the small touches like this. It was perfect. Well, at least it would be, if your foot wasn’t throbbing with pain. “Can’t leave my friend all alone. Can I, Melodia?”

Just like that, the perfect moment vanished. It was moments just like this that made you realize why you’d been falling for him. It wasn’t a mutual feeling—he thought of you as only a friend.

“You can go get it,” you mumbled, trying to shift out his arms as best as your injury would let you. You moved your arms back against your just, trying to seem natural and like his words hadn’t deeply affected you.

Was it because of how you looked? Is that why you didn’t stand a chance with him? Or maybe he and D.Va were more than just friends? There were no ill feelings towards either of them, just the nagging sensation of your heart breaking.

“Nope!” Lúcio cheerfully said, already looking for something to help with your foot. “It doesn’t look like it’s broken, but we’ll have Mercy get another look at it, okay?” He asked, propping your foot on his knee to check over on it. He wasn’t a doctor like Mercy was, but he liked helping you out, even if you sometimes disagreed you needed it.

“I’m okay,” you said, a little too forcefully for your liking. Lúcio’s face made you feel even worse than the pain had. “I’m okay, really,” you said, your tone softer than before. “It’s just a little bump, after all.” “Okay,” the man said, not once letting go of your foot. He continued to look over it, trying his best not to cause you more discomfort.

“Okay,” you replied, starting to feel a little self-conscious from the way he held you.

Neither of you spoke as he continued to look over your foot, and he never looked back up at you. Your teeth shifted over your lip anxiously. Should you say something? Did he hate you now?

“Hey,” his voice was low, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over you both. Your heart leapt in your chest, wondering if he was going to yell at you. “Why were you training this early, anyway?”

Well, at least he wasn’t going to yell at you. But your heart still fluttered in your chest, wondering what kind of excuse you could muster for training so hard.

“I wanted to get better,” you replied quickly. You shifted away from his touch, unable to look at him after the blatant half-truth you’d just told.

“What?” He sat up slightly. “Why?” His big, brown eyes, full of concern and confusion, met yours. “You’re already so amazing at what you do! I think you’re amazing at what you do!”

If it wasn’t for earlier, you’d blush again. How did his simple praise have such an effect on you? You played with your lip between your teeth. There wasn’t an easy way to tell Lúcio the truth—you weren’t happy with yourself; you were on the chubbier side, but it seemed no matter what kind of exercise you did, you couldn’t shed those pounds.

You didn’t want to get better for Lúcio; you wanted to gain some confidence in your abilities and yourself; you wanted to feel better about yourself. That’s all.

“Melodia?” He set down your leg as gingerly as possible, shifting so he could look at your face. “Look at me…” He said. It wasn’t an order, as much as it was a request. Your eyes slowly met his, only to look away again. “You can tell me anything, you know.” His hand slotted to your shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Even if you wanted to, it was so hard lying to the man. “I wanted to better myself,” you said, your voice barely over a whisper. “I’m too…” You were mortified to continue and instead motioned over yourself.

The man followed your hand, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand where you were coming from. “You’re kidding, right?” He cringed when he saw you flinch. “That was… that was not what I was trying to say,” he followed up, a nervous tiddle. “Look at you, Melodia!”

You raised your eyebrow, slightly surprised at the certain gusto Lúcio’s words had. It was like a fire had been lit under him.

Lúcio moved his hands in front of him, as if miming a curvy body. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous! I mean, anyone would be happy to have your body!” As soon as the words left his mouth, the Brazilian man’s face looked flustered. “I mean—anyone would love to have a body like yours!” His voice lowered as his eyes rose, looking abashed. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hands rested on your thighs, your fingers tightening around the fabric. “I don’t feel it,” you admitted. It felt silly, admitting such a little thing. To you, trying to feel enough was the hardest thing you’d ever do.

You hoped—you really did—that Lúcio actually did find you beautiful. It was the hope that made you smile. But as much as you hoped Lúcio found you beautiful, the demons telling you you were too much—too overweight, too unloveable, too you—was too much.

Lúcio’s eyes softened, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He moved closer, hand ghosting on your arm when you went to pull away from him. “Can I?” His brown eyes, filled with an emotion that made your heart sore, met yours.

Your mouth felt incredibly dry at his proximity, but you nodded, your heart skipping a beat as his hand cupped your chin and brought you closer to him.

“You’re beautiful, Melodia.” His fingers brushed the apples of your cheeks, sending a shiver up your spine. “Every inch of you is completely lovely,” he whispered, a warm breath fanning your face. You found yourself leaning into his touch, comforted by the feeling of him. “That’s why I love youuuuuu—” He trailed off, his voice an almost perfect imitation of the sirens when the payload closed in.

“What was that?” Your head slowly lifted, unsure if what you thought you heard was just hopeful thinking.

There was no way he actually meant what you thought he said, yeah? Maybe the pain was making you delirious.

He slowly pushed himself away in an embarrassed stupor. It was quite unlike the man; normally the roles were reversed. Lúcio seemed to be chasing after his own words.

Lúcio stuttered as he paced around, his arms moving in all directions. “I…” He wore a nervous grin, almost unbecoming of the healer. “I like you? Like…. A lot!” His shoulders didn’t stop moving as he juggled air, giving you a lovestruck smile. “I like you a lot.”

Maybe it was the rudeness of the confession or from the pain having disappeared, but you started laughing. You couldn’t help the peals of laughter that shook your chest, making you lean your head down against your legs. Each laugh felt like bliss. He liked you. He actually LIKED you!

“Uh…” Lúcio waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Melodia. You okay there? Did I break you?” He half-joked, his hand resting on his hip.

Wiping a stray tear from your eye, your laughter subsided. “I never knew you felt that way,” you confessed. You couldn’t help it. You were literally glowing with joy. “I never thought in a million years you’d feel the same way that I did.” It was Lúcio’s turn to laugh, his shoulders bouncing with each boisterous chuckle. “What are you talking about? I’ve been trying to flirt with you, Melodia!” He moved his hands. “Come on, all the long, stolen looks, talking to you… the music?”

Within seconds, the both of you were on the ground. He looked over at you, you looked over at him, and you burst out into another peal of laughter.

“Wait, are you serious? You were flirting?” You laughed between words, unable to believe the absurdity of the situation. This whole time, Lúcio had feelings for you? “Of course! I thought you were the most amazing person.” He rested on his elbow, warm brown eyes glancing over you. The corner of his lips quirked as he pushed your hair from your face. “I still do,” he whispered, his hand moving from your face to your shoulder until his arm was wrapped around you. “Really?” You whispered.

“Really,” he breathlessly responded, his lips centimeters from your own. “Come on, let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” The Brazilian man helped you up from the floor, letting him use him as a post as you both wandered through Overwatch’s doors, giggling like a couple of lovestruck idiots.