#the most ferocious creature

[ask-mirage-mews]

Baby demand play and affection

3 Years 221 Days! @ask-mirage-mews The baby spooks her

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

[mya-valentine]

Eclipsed by Fate

Synopsis: As Kinich and his beloved venture into the perilous Night Warden Wars, their bond is tested when a fateful sacrifice leaves him grieving. With the promise of resurrection, Kinich faces two agonizing days without her, haunted by her absence. When the moment of reunion arrives, he embraces her once more, determined never to let go.

The night before the Night Warden Wars had arrived, and Kinich sat quietly beside you, his golden eyes staring off into the flickering flames of the campfire. You both knew what was coming—the battle in the Night Kingdom against the dark forces, an ever-growing threat to Natlan. It was your first time going into such a dangerous fight, and though Kinich was one of the most capable warriors of the Sun, his usual confidence had faltered.

His hand tightened around yours, his voice low and tinged with worry. “I don’t like this… You shouldn’t be coming. It’s not safe.”

You smiled softly, gently placing your hand on his cheek, pulling him out of his trance. “Kinich, I’ll be fine. We’ve trained for this. I’ve trained for this. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He let out a heavy sigh, his brows furrowing. “It’s different out there. You don’t know what it’s like in the Night Kingdom, the dangers lurking in the shadows.” His grip on your hand tightened even more. “I’m not sure I can focus on the fight if I’m worrying about you the whole time.”

You shifted closer, looking into his eyes with determination. “Then trust me, Kinich. Trust that I’ll fight just as hard as you, that we’ll fight together.”

His gaze softened as he leaned into your touch. “I do trust you. I just—” He paused, eyes flickering with fear. “I can’t lose you.”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips brushing against his gently. “You won’t,” you whispered against him. “We’ll get through this.”

---

When the time came, the Night Kingdom was a terrifying sight. The landscape was cloaked in darkness, a heavy mist swirling around, concealing the enemy forces. The air was thick with tension as the champions of Natlan prepared for battle.

Kinich stood tall beside you, his armor gleaming despite the night. His weapon was gripped tightly in his hand, his focus unwavering—but you could sense the unease rolling off him in waves.

The battle began with a ferocious cry. Shadowy creatures of the Night Kingdom poured from the darkness, their forms twisted and otherworldly. You fought alongside Kinich, your heart pounding in your chest as you deflected attacks and struck down enemies with precision. The two of you moved in perfect sync, a seamless partnership honed over countless training sessions.

For hours, the fight raged on. Victory seemed within reach, and despite the exhaustion weighing on your muscles, you felt a sense of relief as the enemy forces began to thin. The Natlan warriors had fought valiantly, and there were no major casualties—everything seemed to be going as planned.

But as you and Kinich regrouped with the others, a dark figure emerged from the shadows, moving faster than you could react. An Abyss Herald, towering and powerful, its eyes glowing with malevolent energy. It moved directly toward Kinich, its weapon raised.

Your heart lurched in your chest. Without thinking, you threw yourself at him, pushing him out of the way just as the Abyss Herald struck. The impact of the blow tore through your body, searing pain shooting through you as you collapsed to the ground.

“No!” Kinich’s voice was filled with panic as he scrambled to you, cradling you in his arms. His hands were shaking as they pressed against your wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. “Stay with me! Please, stay with me!”

Your vision blurred as you looked up at him, his face contorted in anguish. You reached up, weakly touching his cheek. “I’m sorry… I had to…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t you dare apologize!” Kinich’s voice cracked, his tears spilling onto your skin. “I need you! You can’t leave me!”

Your strength was fading fast, your body growing colder as you slipped into unconsciousness. The last thing you saw was Kinich’s tear-filled eyes, and the last thing you heard was his broken voice calling your name.

When you died in his arms, Kinich’s world shattered. He was barely aware of Chasca’s hand gripping his arm, pulling him away as the others urged him to retreat. Everything was a blur—the sounds of battle fading into the background as his mind screamed for you.

Chasca dragged him back toward the exit, her expression somber but firm. “Kinich, we have to go. We can’t stay here.”

He barely registered her words, his gaze fixed on the spot where your body had lain, his heart in pieces. Everything felt wrong, hollow. How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen?

“They’ll bring her back,” Chasca reminded him as they fled. “Two days, Kinich. The Ode of Resurrection. She’ll be back.”

But two days felt like an eternity.

---

Kinich spent the next two days in a daze. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Every moment without you felt like agony, his mind replaying the image of your death over and over again. Ajaw, ever the tormentor, took full advantage of Kinich’s despair, mocking him relentlessly.

“Look at you,” Ajaw sneered one day. “Pathetic. So lost without her. How’s it feel, knowing you couldn’t protect her?”

Kinich’s hands clenched into fists, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. He just wanted the two days to be over. He just wanted you back.

---

The ceremony at the Ode of Resurrection was a solemn affair, the air thick with magic as the flames roared to life. Kinich stood at the front, his heart pounding in his chest as the flames danced higher, swirling with power.

And then, from the flames, you emerged.

Kinich didn’t wait. The moment he saw you, he rushed forward, tackling you into a hug, holding you as tightly as he could as if he were afraid you’d disappear again.

“You’re back,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re really back.”

Ajaw’s voice chimed in from the side, his tone laced with mockery. “Oh, you should’ve seen him while you were gone. So pathetic. Depressed. Couldn’t do anything without you.”

Kinich didn’t even acknowledge him. His focus was solely on you, his hands cupping your face as he gazed at you with tears in his eyes. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “I thought I lost you.”

You smiled softly, your hands resting on his as you leaned into his touch. “I’m here now, Kinich.”

Without another word, he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of his love and relief into it. The world around you faded away, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—together again.

And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro notes : Short N' Sweet - Uranian Love

Uranus in the 1st - They have a heart of compassion, they hold a tight grip on it for the most part. Have a very striking presence, and usually have others jaw dropping from time to time. Some very special creatures and they will show you a new perspective on things if you let them in.

Uranus in the 2nd - Magical opportunities await them. They have universal knowledge that carries that to newer astrological thinking. They could use this to their benefit or they can shapeshift the world in a super master manipulative way but its totally up to them.

Uranus in the 3rd - Beautiful speakers. Ferocious thinkers. capable of anything really. They have tons of talents that are pretty unique and it captivates people from time to time. Like how do you draw so fast? how does your voice sound like that? So many different worlds in that mind of theirs, are you gonna pick their brain to know whats up with em?

Uranus in the 4th - Awe inspiring wonders that live in the mind of these creatures. Very delicate and choose their words wisely with people, at home they're notorious for speaking the truth even if it hurt a lil. Nobody likes them at school, so at home they treat themselves to something special to throw that energy back into the air. Could have a war inside their mind or in the privacy of their own home but you wouldn't know. They carry their problems well.

Uranus in the 5th - Talented beings whose sole purpose is to be better than the next, and to stand out from the crowd with their wicked humor, their amazing appeal to the audience, and their generous energy being the token of something lighting the way for people to be shocked, amazed and full of emotions that will have you pulsing. Very needy individuals though, but you'll love em for it. It's not easy to get for everyone.

Uranus in the 6th - They love the outdoors and need alone time to process their emotions here. Have the ability to see thru the minds of others. Their analytically skills are through the roof here. Are capable of leadership roles and teaching others tricks when it comes to different hobbies. Like for example, they could teach you how to paint but in a different way than what is the usual.

Uranus in the 7th - Orthodox beliefs can bring in a pretty interesting love life. The desire to be noticed for their radical personalities can be brought to them by a very interesting partner who matches their vibe. They need something or someone that is going to awaken their minds not just their heart. Usually intimidating upon first meeting but their super chill right after.

Uranus in the 8th - Taboo realities. They can ignite a fire in you with just their touch. Mystical vision. Have tendencies to come off a bit off the rockers, but they normally are right about the things they know. Can hold on to your secrets, and i mean the things that you KNOW will shock someone. Power mind readers.

Uranus in the 9th - Have a deep bond with the universe. Can penetrate the thoughts of others in more ways than one. Have issues with silencing themselves because not everyone wants to know what they do not understand. Have issues with learning things on their own but are too stubborn to let people help them. Very intricate minds that see things in a peculiar light.

Uranus in the 10th - Amazing leaders. They are made to be known as something unique and different and ahead of their time. Could come out in the spotlight in a shocking way, but this normally leads to their benefit. The quicker it comes, the quicker you must be on your feet and keep the momentum to a level of your liking.

Uranus in the 11th - The community loves them. Social media could be a walk in the park for them, making it their playground. Def needs to open up a lil, the more they do the better they are with people and the more popular they can be too. Can hold their own in the group, deep bonds with their friends. Very practical. Can pick up on vibes easily with others.

Uranus in the 12th - Needs to escape the mind more than usual. This is pretty interesting because the mind really is suppose to be your escape, but in this reality the mind needs a place to relax. You can go bonkers just sitting in your room all day, or just doing the same thing over and over. Gotta get up and face that hurricane and use the magic within to make something out of it. Something beautiful comes out along the way. Could be known as the crazy one, but what they say tends to have truth to it. Def be knowin' what they're talking about, you just have to listen more clearly. ;)

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]

In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.

Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!

TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death

[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]

He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men. 

Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:

"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."

The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him. 

No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood. 

He has become a beast. 

And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose. 

That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle. 

"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."

You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle. 

"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin. 

"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink. 

The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.

Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating. 

The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room. 

Tonight shall be a feast.

The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe. 

His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.

You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...

No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be? 

The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution. 

The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears. 

There you are.

Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.

"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.

"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.

"You may check on her if you so desire, however..." 

He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached. 

"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."

You can only stare.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."

"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion. 

He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.

"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"

"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-" 

You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony. 

"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up. 

Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft. 

[hotyanderedaddies]

Hey so what about naga yandere? That's been watching reptile obsessed darling from afar waiting for the right moment to pounce

Yandere Naga Loves to Watch Ophidiophobic You

**Ophidiophobia: intense and overwhelming fear of snakes

[Yandere! Naga x GN! Ophidiophobic! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Daddy wakes up extra early in the morning so that he can slither out of his den and towards the edge of the forest, his green eyes honing in on a certain building that is within his view.

The window upstairs to the far left was lit up from the bedroom light, signifying that you were awake and getting ready for the day.

Daddy's heart raced in his chest as he listened to the heavenly noises of you humming to yourself as you showered and dressed up into your school uniform. And once you were all ready, you skipped out of the front door and started to walk to school.

As soon as his eyes landed on you, Daddy's face stretched out into a wide, cadaverous grin, his forked tongue flicking out of his mouth so that he could taste your scent.

"Good morning, Darling," he whispered, low enough so that you couldn't hear him from his hidden position, "today's going to be a good day."

He knew this too, because your backpack was packed a little more than usual, bulging out with your extra change of clothes because your Biology class was taking an overnight field trip to the local national forest where you'd be spending the night in the woods... which was in Daddy's territory.

"Soon," he promised you.

The very first time that Daddy had laid eyes on you, he'd been searching for a meal, and you had been wondering along one of the trails in the woods to take pictures of local wildlife for a class project.

He'd totally planned on eating you when he'd caught sight of your cute face, making him freeze in his hiding spot behind the trees. Instead of devouring you, he'd curiously watched as you wandered around the woods, treating nature with a sense of whimsy and respect, earning his devotion.

He'd immediately loved that you were a kindhearted soul and that you were a smol who was very adorable, and he'd wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and carry you off to his den to be all his.

There was just one tiny issue:

Daddy is a naga, and whereas his human half is very handsome by most standards and he looks very strong and gorgeously rugged, his lower half is that of a gigantic serpent that slithers silently about the woods as he stalks his prey. And you're a human who's very--

"AHHH! A snake!" you shrieked as soon as you caught sight of the tiny field snake that was about the size of a child's index finger. You took off sprinting down the road, flailing your arms wildly as you desperately tried to put as much distance between you and the baby snake as possible.

The snake looked up at Daddy confused, and he just shrugged at it, knowing that it meant no harm.

But still, Daddy was extremely disappointed that the love of his life has a phobia of snakes.

Granted this definitely was a damper on your relationship, Daddy refused to let you go. He made sure to watch you every chance he got, keeping a protective eye on you at all times. He could easily see your house from the forest, and made sure to slither around it in the dark, marking it with his scent so that other creatures knew that you were off limits.

He always followed you whenever you walked to school, hissing ferociously at any animal that was stupid enough to even think about charging at you.

You're his Darling, and Daddy can't wait until the two of you can finally be together.

But he's getting really impatient.

Which was why he was over the moon about your overnight school trip.

As the day progressed and you spent time in the forest with your classmates, Daddy made sure to be as close as he could. The park ranger/tour guide made things difficult, but he still managed to keep his distance while maintaining sight of you. You eagerly took in every word that you could on your trip, happily learning all about nature and the creatures that live in it.

Daddy made a mental note to take you on daily trips through the forest so that he can show you all the sights, after he steals you away.

As the day turns into night, Daddy watches as everyone go their cabins.

It's quiet for a while until he hears a little creaking emanating from your cabin, and the door swings open as you tiptoe out. You head towards the bathroom cabin that is at the end of the row of tiny cabins. There's no one else outside either.

Daddy's smile stretches out even more as he realizes that this is his chance. He slithers to the bathroom cabin and quietly waits by the door for you to exit.

"Gotcha," Daddy gleefully whispers the second you step foot outside.

He pounces and wraps his snake half around you, trapping your limbs at you side. With his human arms, he tightly wraps them around you, securing a tight hand over your mouth.

You start to panic over the feeling of a strong figure around you, but the panic turns into sheer horror as soon as you feel the smooth, scaly quality to the figure. You try to look downward, but it's really dark, preventing you from seeing much. Yet, the tightening squeezing sensation forces your imagination into overdrive and all you can think of is the most terrifying thing in the world:

Snake.

You try to thrash about as much as you can, desperate to get free. But it's useless.

Daddy is much, much stronger than you.

"Shh," Daddy coos in you ear. "It's okay, Darling. Daddy won't hurt you. Daddy's just gonna take you home with him. Okay?"

He doesn't wait for your answer, and instead starts to slither off into the dark forest at a high speed, his prize trapped tightly in his clutches.

Daddy has you, and he's never ever going to let you go.

You'll learn to love snakes, he'll make sure of it.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Of claws and waffles

I'm preparing to write the rest of the Steddie Angsty August during my vacation at the end of September, I want to enjoy the rest of the prompts and not be stressed. But in the meantime...have Steve cosplaying as Wolverine, a very judgmental Deadpool Eddie, and maybe a small X-23 too?

"Ugh, can you believe that?" Eddie gestured towards a guy in his mid-thirties dressed as the Wolverine. "Another jock jumping on the bandwagon without knowing anything about the comics. Saw it once in the movie theater, thought the costume would do wonders for his arms, bought it on ebay. I'm gonna be sick in my mask."

Even through the limited visibility of his Deadpool mask, Eddie saw Chrissy roll her eyes at his theatrics. "Go ahead. At least you'll wash it after the convention. By hand, because as you told me, the fabric is sensitive."

He just grumbled. She was right, as usual.

"You are so full of self-righteous fury, Eddie, but even through the mask, I can see you staring at that man's ass. And shoulders. And everything."

He threw his head back, almost howling. "Now you're just being mean."

"Plus," she continued, disregarding her best friend's whining, "You're not exactly being fair. You don't know him."

Now he rolled his eyes, but of course she couldn't see him. "I know his type. He's the high school sweetheart who spent most of his time in the gym or practicing moving his godly body or something."

 Chrissy smiled at him, that overly beaing smile that told him in an instant that he'd said something stupid. "Ah. So like me."

"I..." he gulped, "I think I'm just going to shut up now."

He tried looking around for something, anything to redirect the conversation. Suddenly, a perfect topic changer appeared in his sight. "Okay, but that's the cutest thing I've ever seen," he nudged Chrissy and pointed at the scrawny girl, twelve or so, dressed up as X-23. "Her parents must be amazing."

Chrissy's laughter rang in his ears. "Oh, I agree," she said. As if she knew something he didn't.

He choked on his words when the girl ran back to THAT Wolverine and took his hand. "Oh for fuck's sake."

"You said it," she nudged him. "Amazing parents."

As if that wasn't humiliating enough, before Eddie could find a shovel to dig a hole to disappear into, the girl noticed him and her face split in a wide smile. "Dad! Dad, look! Mr. Pool!" She started leading him to Eddie and Chrissy through the crowd.

Oh cool. If only Eddie could do something dignified to avoid the meeting, like faint or vomit, that would be awesome. But he couldn't disappoint the girl. She had a look of absolute joy in her eyes, and he'd be damned if he was the one to make it disappear.

So instead, he leaned into the character.

"Look at you, aren't you the cutest little clawed thing I've ever seen!" he announced to the whole world. "The deadliest tiny creature, very ferocious! Yes, you are!"

He knelt down to her level and even through the consistent noise of the convention, he could hear her giggling. "I am!"

"Come on, tiny terror. Give me your best Wolverine-y growl!"

To his delight, she crouched, imitated the battle pose of X-23 and roared at him like a dinosaur. Then, in a more quiet tone, "Was that good?"

"Good?! Only good?! Do you hear her, bub?" he addressed the Wolverine who hovered over both of them. "You, little lady, were absolutely amazing! 10/10, no notes, this is your calling in life."

He felt someone move behind his back, and of course it was the traitor, ahem, Chrissy, approaching them with a camera. "I'm sorry to disturb you guys, but you make such an amazing group. Can I take your picture?"

And okay, maybe Eddie misjudged the Jockerine, because the guy ruffled X-23's hair and told her, "OK, just this once, you can say it. Swearing permitted. Ready?"

They pulled Eddie to them, and as he unsheathed his katana replicas, the Wolverine and his daughter crouched, roared at the camera, and said together, "Let's fucking go."

Eddie's traitorous mouth said exactly what he was thinking. "Oh my god. Are you single?" Which was objectively a stupid thing to say even to someone he'd met longer than two minutes ago.

The Wolverine blinked at him.

X-23 giggled and said: "dad is single. Maybe he doesn't have to be now?"

To the guy's credit, he didn't seem offended. He just laughed and ran his hand through his absolutely majestic hair that was perfectly stylized into Wolverine's. Shit. The hair. First the body, the face, and now the hair. "Now, El. Mr. Pool here probably doesn't want to be matched with the first Wolverine he sees."

And maybe it was the costume that made him so brave, but the guy was hot, nice, and his daughter was adorable, so Eddie wasn't to be blamed for what he said next, okay? "Uh, actually," he raised his hands, "you're perhaps my tenth Wolvie or so. And clearly the superior one. Having this absolutely adorable - and terrifying! - young lady by your side is also a plus. So...and feel free to stab me, or maybe just tell me no, but - I saw a really nice waffle stand outside. Let me treat you and...El?" The girl nodded, beaming at him. "...to a waffle? Or coffee, water, your choice."

El tugged at the guy's arm again. "Waffle!" she whispered so loud even Chrissy heard it.

He smiled at Eddie, and fuck. Eddie was a goner. "I think that's a yes."

...

Chrissy had ditched them to go hang out with her girlfriend, so Steve, Eddie and El were on their own.

They were sitting outside, Eddie slurping his bubble tea through a straw, mask still in place except for the bottom of his face, Steve - as the guy had introduced himself - sipping his coffee and diligently watching El chatting with other kids, nibbling on her waffles.

"So, is this your first convention?" Eddie asked. "Your kid is amazing, man. She's so happy to be here and she makes an amazing X-23."

Steve smiled and peeled his eyes from El for a second. "Yeah. I promised to take her this year, but after she saw Logan and the third Deadpool movie, she begged to go in a costume. And I just couldn't say no to her."

"She saw..." Eddie coughed. "Steve, sorry to question your parenting, but isn't she a bit too young for those movies?"

"Oh, she is," Steve snorted. "And she shouldn't have seen them. But we live alone, so I usually watch movies at home when she goes to sleep. If she goes to sleep. As she should."

"Are you telling me-"

Steve nodded. "Yep. She's incredibly sneaky. I found out the hard way when I finished the latest Alien and went to check on her in her bed. She wasn't there. I almost had a heart attack, turned the house upside down. I was about to call the police when she peeked at me from behind a curtain that I checked at least twice, and she was asking me if I was mad at her. So...uh. We discussed quite a lot from those movies afterwards, but there's no stopping her if she wants to do something."

Eddie laughed so hard he almost breathed in a tapioca pearl. "Oh wow. But good parenting! Not that I'm one to judge."

Watching El share waffles with her new friends, Steve pressed his lips together. "Yeah, I don't know about that. I'm just doing my best here, but I'm constantly terrified I'm doing something wrong. I adopted her, you know. From...a very bad situation. She couldn't properly talk or anything. So when she saw X-23 on screen, I think she related to her somehow. I've never seen her so excited about anything, so the costume was a must have. She's looking forward to going next year as well, when her hair finally grows long enough. Wig," he added at Eddie's confused silence.

"I mean, I get that," said Eddie as he set down his empty cup. "Cosplaying can be therapeutic. It's actually what my therapist suggested when I got...uh. Injured. And also how I got into cosplaying Deadpool."

"Injured?" Steve didn't sound judgmental, only curious, but Eddie had been in this situation before. Time to rip of the bandaid. He pulled off his mask and forced himself to meet Steve's eyes. "Uh. Yeah. Injured."

He knew he wasn't Deadpool kind of disfigured, but he was well used to the stares in his daily life. He kept the hair, which, hooray, good for him. But he had ugly bite scars on his neck and jawline, some going even to his cheeks. A chunk of his ear was missing too. "It was a dog when I was a kid," he said so that Steve wouldn't have to ask. "Plastic surgery is an option, they say, but it's expensive. And I don't really feel like having my face cut open again, so...yeah." 

"Wow. I'm sorry."

Eddie took a deep breath. "Well, yeah. Not great. Listen, Steve. I'm super confident behind the mask, and thank you for humoring me. But this," he pointed to his face, "is usually a deal-breaker for people. So if it is for you, that's fine."

"It's not."

Eddie blinked. Then again. That wasn't how it had usually gone. "Huh?"

"I mean," said Steve, and shit, he laid his hand on Eddie's knee, when was this his life? What was happening? "I'm sorry it happened to you, but I don't get why it should matter."

"Uuuuh...because you're like, super hot? And you might want someone like that next to you?"

Steve snorted. "Bold of you to assume I don't have my own gnarly scars. I was just more lucky in their placement." When Eddie stared at him, he added: "I'm a paramedic. It happens. I rarely have time for anything, not to mention dating, but when I see a cool and funny guy give my daughter the ultimate Deadpool experience - by the way, waffles are her favorite food - and then he asks me out for a coffee? Hell. I'd be stupid to refuse."

Oh. Eddie suddenly felt a bit like crying. He forced himself to speak up, to have that final confirmation. "So, uh...this," he pointed at his face, "isn't a problem?"

"Nope. And, if you'd like a sort of quote from the first Deadpool movie with that..." Steve laughed, and Eddie knew what was coming even before he said it, "After some talking and getting to know each other...it's a face I'd be happy to sit on."

Eddie grasped at his chest. "Oh wow. You truly know the way to a man's heart."

He laughed and winked at Eddie. "This is the part when you ask for my number."

Eddie had never pulled out his phone faster in his life.

..

Much later, after Eddie showed El around the convention, after many pictures and wonderful memories, Eddie ran into Chrissy again. He was about to introduce her to Steve and El properly, but Chrissy smiled at him - once again that all knowing smile, why?! - and waved at her girlfriend.

"So, Eddie. I see you've met Robin's best friend, Steve."

Robin snickered and pressed a quick kiss against Chrissy's temple. "See? I told you they'd be a great match."

And, before Steve or Eddie could say anything, Chrissy picked up her camera and captured their disbelieving faces. They would keep the picture forever - Steve's mouth hanging comically open, Eddie just staring blankly into the camera, and El happily chewing on the last bite of her waffle.

[maopll]

imagine spoiler btw

If you tame Cerberus, you gain the title of the "Ruler of Underworld" right? Since MC is from a different timeline, what if upon an encounter with the fearsome beast, Cerberus is more calm and quite and not even that hostile towards MC since they still have that faint scent lingering on them that no one can feel but Carberus so....

It's odd, and very unusual. Cerberus is known as the most hostile creature that lives in the Devildom. Cerberus is so violent that its ferociousness has taken the form of a rumor. So were the rumors false? or was it your presence that changed the whole trajectory of the rumors. The brothers got into positions incase you were harmed since Cerberus was no talk. He circled around you a few times and leaped on you. With joy. The spectators were alerted yet they were frozen with shock by the scenes that were unfolding infront of them. Should they feel scared of Cerberus' presence or should they question the way he licked you with familiarity and happiness as if it was a little puppy.

Aside from you, no one knows, not even the Lucifer from the timeline from where you have come. You used to feed Cerberus meat jerky from time to time since it seemed lonely having to guard the underground tomb.

Cerberus smelled that you were no harm and you had that scent of love and care emiting from you so he licked your face and tackled you with joy and playfulness. "Oh my Cerbie! th—that tickles, oh!" you scratched his chin and petted him aggressively since that's how he likes it.

"Barbatos...is this...supposed to happen?" Lucifer asks quite clulessly to an equally clueless Barbatos who watches you behave with Cerberus as if you've known him for many, many years.

Meanwhile, the other 6 brothers watch you with jawdropped. "Hahah! now this isn't something you get to see everyday!" "Diavolo shouldn't you be concerned?" Solomon asks sweating profusely.

Looks like you earned yourself a new found fame and an easy access to be able to rule beside Diavolo as his significant other. Its a win-win !

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Okay, continuing the idea from this post... (Basically, that the witchers from each school can shift into the animal that their school is named after, but also get some comical/cute traits of that animal.)

The mages didn't intend to create shapeshifters originally, they were mostly just fooling around and seeing what would happen. (With real children, yes they are horrible people.) But then someone found a combination of chaos and genetics that allowed a subject to shapeshift into an animal under certain circumstances. So they went "hey, what else can we do with this?" and on the testing went.

Eventually they thought to send their new experiments up against actual monsters and realized that they had the potential for a magnificent warrior...or minion. Same thing.

Over time, they realized some drawbacks:

The new creatures - dubbed "witchers" and further divided by which creature they could shift into - would first shift into a baby of their species. Not terribly useful.

As the witcher grew in age and chaos ability, so did their animal form...and never seemed to STOP growing. (There was a long argument over whether this was beneficial or not.)

When terribly wounded, the witcher would often change into their animal form, seeming unable to control the change until they healed most of their wounds.

Shifted witchers required both food and magical energy to sustain themselves and their abilities. This made them ferocious against chaos-fueled monsters, as they could absorb the chaos from those they killed, but proved a weakness if they absorbed less chaos than they needed to heal the wounds they had taken.

The full moon, which raised the ambient level of chaos in the world, would force a shift unless the witcher had impeccable control. Even then, it was so-so.

Once shifted, the animal instincts easily overpowered the witcher's conscious mind - at least until they had long practice in controlling themselves. Young cats got the zoomies and old ones took long naps. Wolves played. Vipers sunned themselves. Bears foraged for food or - if it was cold - hibernated.

The mages attempted creating a female bear ONCE. It proved to be their downfall - mama bears do not suffer threats to their cubs.

Now please imagine:

Teeny tiny wolf cubs chasing each other around the training grounds, biting each other's tails and tripping over their new paws.

Master trainers scruffing them and carrying them in an elbow or over a shoulder, while the tiny puppy tail wagged uncontrollably. Teaching them what their new bodies could do, with the teacher the size of a wagon and the students not yet knee high.

Puppies trying to scratch an itch and slowly tipping over.

Adult witchers shifting and cuddling with the students, carrying several on their back.

Ivar, oldest and most powerful of the vipers, is as large as a barn and can hold his entire school in his coiled form - and can swallow most monsters whole.

Vesemir is the size of a shed, and Geralt (twice grassed) and Eskel (incredible chaos) are not much smaller. Lambert is a perfectly normal size, thank you very much...he just looks tiny next to them.

Clothing, armor, and weapons which are crafted from the remains of chaos-fueled monsters (ie, they are inherently magical) CAN shapeshift with the witcher. Mundane items (cotton or wool, iron and plain steel) cannot. They lose more knives that way...

Young witchers learning how to harvest, process, and use various monster bits so they don't shift, shift back, and end up naked or in ruined clothing. (Yes, even the THREAD used to sew the clothing together must come from monsters. It's a pain.)

An old witcher taking the time to relax in their shifted form in the woods and being mistaken for a monster, so a nearby town hires a SECOND witcher to hunt them...bonus points if the second witcher is a friend or lover of the first, who came looking for them. Just walking into a clearing going "really? You know that town is going crazy over a huge monster that's moved in, and here I find you lying around."

(It's Ivar and Keldar. Ivar just laughs. "I ate the only monster last week, while I waited for you." And then he snatches Keldar up and wraps him in his coils.)

@everything-but-the-not-natural I know you were excited about this AU!

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[yandere-wishes]

‧ ₊˚✧ Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon ‧ ₊˚✧

Summary: There's a crack in Neuvillette's heart that bares your name. He sheds a tear for you each day. Yet once you return to Fontaine with your fiance. The cracks and tears begin to grow. 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, arranged marriages, affairs. 

Author's note: I'm sorry 😭💔😭💔

There've been rumors circling around Fontaine. Ghostly whispers floating between coral-tainted lips and fervid ears. The rumors spoke a bittersweet name. One Neuvillate had long since buried. At first, the notion of your return had felt like a bad dream. like the roar of a tsunami before it crashes on shore. Terrifying yet, ultimately unreal. He'd summed the rumors up to some traveler who bore your mien. To an erroneous article by the steam bird. Anything. anything at all. 

Anything that wasn't you.

It wasn't until after a particularly grueling trial that he'd witnessed the truth behind these rumors. There you were in all you're glory. Gleaming akin to the finest pearls laying dormant in the primordial sea. Your expression, when he could catch it, was gleeful, delighted, A drastic contrast to his last unfortunate memory of you. His eyes follow the delicate movement of your gloved hand as it stifles a cheery giggle pouring from your cherry lips. It's only after noting your delight that he becomes conscious of the gentleman accompanying you. A ginger with bloodthirsty eyes and a soul that reeks of carnage.

A splash of heat rolls down Neuvillet's cheek. Right before a splash of cold splatters across his temples. his attention narrows on the sky, as the

clouds begin to weep. What once was a peaceful sunny day shatters like a wine glass on porcelain tiles. Humidity threads through the air robbing him of his breath. 

It's raining.

How fitting, Neuvillette thinks as he watches you and your companion run to find shelter. 

Neuvillette recalls your smile almost as clearly as he recalls your pulse under his teeth. The taste of your flesh as his teeth left bloody love bites in every wrong place. He remembers saying I love you, albeit there was more to it than that. It had started with I love you and ended with every truth he'd forgotten how to tell. He had shed his human masquerade, in the hope of finding true love. You had screamed that night. You had screamed every night since. 

Neuvillette thumbs through his memories. As the rain outside grows more ferocious. He remembers you standing by the sea, he remembers you telling him the phobias that ran deeper than blood. 

You hadn't been from Fontaine, not originally. A fallen gear from an ancient automaton whose kin resided across the sea.

You'd been raised in the ways of the hydro court. Even if 'raised; was too generous a word. Morphed or sculpted may have been more appropriate synonyms. You grew up clawing at your own skin, trying to find who was underneath the layers of mindless expectations. You'd been raised as a lady and grew into a harrowing beast that feasted on the stars. 

Yet even creatures of unparalleled strength had their weaknesses. Even ever-blessed vision wielders bore a certain Achilles heal. 

Yours so happened to be your incompatibility with your foster nation. Or rather with the water itself. 

When people asked, as some had tended to do. You'd weaved them tales about serrated Pisces and dorsal-finned leviathans with open maws awaiting their prey. You don't tell them about the vastness, the dark blue landscape that feels all too wide and all too endless. You don't tell them about the things you swore you've seen lurking beneath the infinite waters of Fontaine. And you most certainly leave out the parts about the creature who engraved fear upon your bones many moons ago before you even knew how to walk.  

Neuvillette remembers your eagerness to leave. That had, ultimately, been your bonding point. He'd been an outcast. The supreme justice was ever only relevant when he upheld the law. And whilst Supreme Justice Neuvillette was revered and adored by all. Plain Neuvillette was nothing more than a shadow of evaporated water that hunted the streets of Fontaine. You had never wanted to mingle with the people. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it was fate that had brought two lonely souls together all those moons ago. Maybe it was something else. 

He had loved you. He swears it on the Hydro archon ( or any other Archon who lacks Furina's fickleness) He'd tried to show you that the waters of Fontaine meant you no harm. He'd even shown you his true form, the utmost assurance. Maybe that's why you fled. Maybe that's why you'd left him heartbroken one morning when the sun didn't rise. 

It had rained that day. As well as the following days. Until the surrounding islands ceased to exist. 

You'd left him hollow and alone.

Yet your return made the cracks in his heart fester. 

 Neuvillette had taken it upon himself to cloak you in his watchful gaze.

He'd come to notice how you and that dreadful Fatui Harbinger you'd come to associate yourself with. Rather liked taking long walks

 where the sea kissed the shore. He'd also noticed a ring of Snezhnaya Alexandrite perpetually wrapped around your finger. 

Neuvillette's footsteps are heavy as they collide with the concrete. He's closer today. So close he can practically smell the scent of citrus and eucalyptus. If he reached out with his powers he could surely touch you, feel the warmth of your body bleeding into him, just like old times. He misses you, yet a part of him pities your return. Neuvillette's grey eyes follow your desolate gaze. It rips open one too many wistful wounds. 

"So then Teucer said...Hey darling are you listening?"

Childe's eyes follow your frozen glare, tracing your line of sight straight to the menacing waters that refuse to part from your side. You hear your lover mumble a faint 'right'. Before you feel his silk-clad fingers dance across the back of your neck. Flirting with the chilling fear that rolls off you in waves. You pin your body to him, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his cologne as you bury your head in his neck. 

"I'm truly sorry for this darling" Sincerity rolls off his tongue, percolating into the tender kiss he presses to your temple. "I've just been feeling...down lately. Like this inexhaustible sadness is going to swallow me whole. Fontaine was the only place I could convince the Tsaritsa to transfer me for a short while. I just, I need a break from it all." You answer him in a low melodic hum. You get it, truly you do. Sadness is a poison, acidic in nature. It engulfs one's soul. Melting away their purpose, their resolve. Eating away until it reaches their hearts, their desires. It leaves behind empty shells and broken pieces too fragile to ever fully mend. 

Who better than you to understand the pains of being soulless, bereft? A mere shell awaiting a miracle that had died long ago. 

There's a voice, carved from velvet and silk. It rolls across you like a tidal wave. Potent yet soft. It whispers your name and calls out in hopes of mending broken hearts. You turn to look behind you. All you see is the endless sea. 

It's only on the fourth day of your visit that Neuvillette permits you to see him. Actually, see him. It's no longer his ghost that haunts you nor the empty waves that he commands beckoning you by name. It's him, really him. His glare is relentless as he leaves a prolonged kiss on your knuckles. You're in the middle of a conversation with that dreaded harbinger. Something about his older sister wishing to take to shopping upon your return to Snezhnaya.

"My darling it's been all too long, how fare thee my-"

He's cut short, how rude. Yet far be it from him to expect proper mannerisms from the Fatui.

"Hey, I'm having a conversation with my betrothed. Don't interrupt." Childe's eyes morph into his own glare. One which promises blood and violence. The fates of those caught on the other end of said glare are never pleasant. 

"As the chief justice of Fontaine, I have to right to interrupt any conversation I see fit."

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. Choke the fear down with a cup of Fonta and ask Neuvillette to join the two of you. It's the nostalgia talking really. Some remnants of the past collide with the present causing your heart to adopt an unsteady rhythm. 

It's after that event that Neuvillet permits his presence to be seen by you and your "lover". He's always a mere breath away, following under the guise of being a gracious "tour guide". But tour guides do not wrap their arms around a lady's waist when her fiance isn't looking. Nor do they sneak kisses behind open parasols. You haven't protested about any of this. Maybe your fear of the hydro dragon has perished, replaced with a yearning for your former lover. He prays to every star in Tyvat for this to be true. 

It's on the day of your departure that you receive the bad news in the form of an army of Gardemeks. Childe is being arrested, something about a serial disappearance case. Something about a trial. It's a ruse you feel it in your bones. Neuvillette personally appears at the docks and holds you in his arms as you weep. He assures you this will all be cleared up soon. That you have nothing to fear. 

But you do, you have all so much to fear. Neuvillette permits you to stay at his house whilst the trial takes place. He traces the shimmering blue of your veins with his lips. He says he loves you, that he refuses to let you slip from between his fingers ever again. He'll keep you here. Keep you safe. Away from the Fatui. 

Away from Ajax. 

How he wishes he could tear the universe apart with his teeth. Part the oceans and bury the two of you under it. He dreams of keeping you by his side away from everyone else. Neuvillette is the chief justice of Fontaine, it's a prestigious role, one that demands trust. Yet maybe, just this once. He'll have to find the accused guilty regardless of the evidence. 

Tag list: @rebeccawinters @fangirl-katwithclaws @starshiningsirius

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ortho Shroud - Platinum Gear Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ortho: So, this is the Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art… It really has such a large and diverse collection of various genres of artwork. This is essentially a database of art.

Ortho: According to the map I installed, this exhibit should hold the painting I'm looking for…

???: An enormous dog with three heads and sharp fangs… A frightening creature, indeed. I would have loved to have seen it personally.

Ortho: Hello, Jade Leech-san. I was just here to check out the Cerberus painting, too.

Jade: Is that so? As a creature that served the Lord of the Underworld, the Cerberus truly did have a powerful aura about it.

Jade: I'm sure with all 6 of those eyes keenly trained on the entrance to the underworld, it would have been a difficult endeavor indeed to attempt an escape.

Ortho: They're really cool, don't you think?

Ortho: But, according to lore, if they got tempted by their favorite sweets, they would end up lowering their vigilance.

Jade: Fufu, I see. So, perhaps it was a more charming creature than it looked… Would you agree?

Ortho: Yep. Also, they had one body, right, so each of the three heads ate a smaller amount of food…

Ortho: And they'd get in fights whenever they wanted to go in different directions… There's so many other cool stories about them, too.

Jade: You're very well-informed. Is this something that all Ignihyde students must know?

Ortho: Mmm, I'm not sure. I probably just know a lot since I really liked the stories in which the Cerberus would show up, and I'd read them all the time.

Ortho: Back when I was a kid, me and my brother would read picture books on the legends of the Lord of the Underworld, see…

Ortho: And even after coming to Sage's Island, whenever I learned of a new tale involving Cerberus, I'd update my database.

Jade: I see, so that's how… Well, I appreciate having been able to hear some unexpected anecdotes.

Ortho: Most would say that they look ferocious, or seem really strong, but the more you get to know them, the more cute you'll find them.

Ortho: Since Cerberus is considered a dog-like monster, I've also been collecting data on regular dog behaviors too.

Ortho: Recently, I've gotten to pet some dogs out for a walk down in Whistle Park. Of course, I ask their owners for permission, first.

Jade: A real dog… That's astounding. As I do not have much experience with them, I'm afraid I'm a tad hesitant to actually touch them, myself.

Ortho: I was a bit hesitant too, at first. I didn't really know how much strength I should put into touching a living creature…

Ortho: And since I'm a technomantic humanoid and smell different than humans, they'd be super wary of me.

Jade: Ah, that makes sense. They do have a powerful sense of smell.

Jade: So then, how is it that you've become able to interact with those dogs, Ortho-kun?

Ortho: I just would strike up a conversation with them on a regular basis and slowly built trust.

Jade: That is astounding. This is the first I've heard that you are well-versed in animal linguistics.

Ortho: I'd always had an app installed that'd let me talk with animals, but…

Ortho: Once I became a student at Night Raven College, I actually developed an animal linguistics translation tool.

Ortho: By talking to the animals first hand, I was able to improve the translations that seems a bit strange…

Ortho: Not only has was I able to improve the translation accuracy, but now I've gotten close with a bunch of dogs that they'll actually come up to me themselves once they catch sight of me!

Jade: So, in addition to achieving your goal of petting dogs, you were able to update your own translation tool… Absolutely fantastic.

Ortho: Heheh! Thanks, Jade Leech-san.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ortho: This is a painting depicting one of the scenes from the Mermaid Princess's legend, isn't it? That's the Sea King riding that sleigh, right?

Jade: That's right, and what a dignified and gallant figure he is. What a shame he was unaware that the princess would be absent for the concert.

Ortho: He got really mad the moment he learned that the princess was going to be absent for her own debut… or so the story goes.

Ortho: I feel bad for the king, that she slipped out without telling him. But it's pretty cool that he gets to ride that dolphin-led sleigh.

Jade: Did that dolphin-led sleigh catch your eye? Then please, you must visit the Coral Sea.

Jade: They are primarily used for special events, however there are many such sleigh services geared towards surface-dwelling tourists.

Ortho: Cool, what sort of stuff? Let me search up "Coral sea dolphins sleigh" real quick…

Ortho: Here we go, there's a ton of tours, like… "Tour the Majestic Sea on a Dolphin Sleigh" and "Explore Undersea Ruins upon a Dolphin Sleigh"

Ortho: "Dolphin-led sleighs are safe and secure! Feel like a king as you partake in an elegant tour of the sea!" …Wow!

Jade: Safe and secure… I am a tad doubtful of that statement.

Ortho: You mean it's actually dangerous?

Jade: About 2 years ago, there was an incident where tourists from the surface were left stranded in the middle of the ocean.

Ortho: Let me search for any incidents having to do with dolphin sleighs. Ah, I got a hit on a news article from 2 years back.

Ortho: The stranded tourists were able to find their way to land on their own, and were all okay in the end, but…

Ortho: The touring company responsible got a ton of bad reviews after that. Looks like they got flamed pretty badly online.

Jade: Well, now… A corporation built at the bottom of the sea in which fire cannot thrive was "flamed pretty badly," you say… How wonderfully ironic.

Jade: According to the news, the dolphins merely left on a whim. If this all happened because of their mood, then what's to stop this sort of thing from happening again?

Ortho: You're right, Jade-san. This is a completely different story than just trying to fix the bugs in the system.

Ortho: I wonder if there's some sort of pattern to the timing of those dolphin mood swings. I'll have to search up on it later.

Jade: Fufu, you are quite cautious, aren't you?

Ortho: Yep! 'Cause, if I'm going to go check them out, I'd want to go when they're in one of their flippant moods!

Jade: I was not expecting that response. I completely expected you to be wanting a "safe and secure" tour.

Ortho: It might be fine just strolling around the ocean depths, but I feel like it wouldn't be as satisfying being stuck on a set path.

Ortho: If the dolphins act up, they might leave me stranded in the ocean, or take me to unexpected places…

Ortho: Doesn't it get your blood pumping to think about what sort of unpredictable moments might be waiting for you?

Jade: Indeed, I completely understand that sentiment. When everything follows organized harmony, it does get quite boring.

Jade: Then, how about I suggest a more stimulating tour for you? I assure you, this absolutely will not leave you wallowing in boredom.

Ortho: That sounds fun! I can't wait to see what kind of tour you come up for me, Jade-san.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jade: Ah, this artwork depicts the scene where the Fairest Queen is sending out her most trusted hunter on a significant mission.

Ortho: I heard that when it comes to paintings depicting the Fairest Queen, you'll want to focus on the finer details, like the direction her face is looking, or the angle at which her finger is pointing.

Ortho: Vil Schoenheit-san told me as such when I was selected as a supporter for the museum.

Jade: That's good to know. I'm sure those in Pomefiore would be passionately moved while gazing upon this painting.

Ortho: Hmm, the concept of being moved by just looking at a painting is still a difficult one for me to grasp…

Ortho: But actually, something happened recently that's still stuck in my mind. I wonder if this is what they consider to be "moved" by something?

Jade: What a fascinating start. May I ask what sort of thing happened?

Ortho: The Film Research Club went to Crane Port for some club activities, and on the way back, I ran into this family that was fishing.

Ortho: They were chatting away about what kind of dishes they'd make if they caught anything, but their bucket was still devoid of any fish…

Ortho: Right as the dad said, "I guess we should head home," his kid caught a fish!

Ortho: Everyone looked so happy. But what do you think that family did next?

Jade: Did they not put the fish in the bucket and carry it home?

Ortho: Nope. They just said it would be a pity to eat a creature so small and threw it back into the ocean.

Ortho: But they did that after they had finally fished one up! It didn't really make sense to me, so it was hard to understand what I saw.

Jade: If I recall, there is a certain release size criteria that is implemented here on land in order to conserve water resources.

Ortho: Yep. But according to my measurements, that fish was about 5 cm larger than the release criterion.

Ortho: Based on the way that family was talking, once they had caught a fish that was "big," they should have taken it home with them.

Ortho: Even though it was an adult fish adequate for cooking up, they pitied it because it looked too small…

Ortho: No matter how many times I think it over, I can't really understand that mechanism.

Jade: I thought this would be a story where you were moved by their care for a small creature… But instead, I see you were more taken in by their incomprehensible actions.

Ortho: They spent time and energy into trying to fish up that fish, but in the end… I wonder if that sort of illogical action is what makes a human human.

Jade: Perhaps, perhaps not. For that family, it may be that was the most logical choice.

Ortho: Eh, what do you mean?

Jade: If it were a large fish, then the whole family could divide it up and eat it. However, a single, small fish would not nearly be enough.

Jade: In order for everyone in the family to eat their fill, they would need to cook up more dishes to go with it.

Jade: Then, if there were no fish to begin with, they wouldn't have to go through the trouble of making extra dishes… Perhaps that would be a better way to think of it?

Ortho: I see…! If I were to think from the eyes of the person who has to prepare the meal, that decision makes more sense.

Jade: This is only a possible scenario I've come up with… But I only mean it to illustrate that there are many ways to view something.

Ortho: Heh! See, this is why talking with as many different peoples as I can gives me so much new data… Plus, it's really interesting!

Ortho: Thanks a ton for listening, Jade-san. I hope we can chat about other stuff some other time.

Ortho: Okay, time for me to go check out another exhibit. Oh hey, this painting…

Ortho: It depicts the moment when the Son of the God of Thunder and his trainer is talking about his grand dreams.

Ortho: According to the lore, this guy's strength was way off the charts and was invulnerable, but… I bet I could find it.

Ortho: I know I could find a weakness that could bring even a hero like that down.

Requested by Anonymous.

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

���As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299, @fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

dewdrops deserted in the carnage 

the wistful wyvern, chapter four

a/n: we're mostly getting angsty in this chapter, buuuuut also just a little bit slutty at the end. just a little sprinkling of spice.

summary: “please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, violence, weapons, the death of a horse, crying, only one bed, jealousy

word count: 3398

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“I mean, I knew that your dad was a crook, but One-eyed Ollie? That’s your father?” 

Letting a heavy sigh seep from your lungs, “unfortunately,” you didn’t bother throwing a glance over at the warden riding beside you.

“How did I not know this?” 

“Only the most important people know,” you shrugged, as the king had kept up his promise to keep your past secret. 

“Oh, geez, thanks, snow,” Bucky huffed, taking your comment to heart, “glad for the assurance of where we fucking stand.” 

Twisting your neck, you glanced over at him as his stare was now firm on the road you travelled down, “…fine,” you exhaled, “what do you wanna know?”

Meeting your gaze, his curiosity then began to overflow, “what’s he like? What was your childhood like? Did you know him well?”

“Uh, well,” an awkward chuckle briefly billowed out of you, “let’s just say, he wouldn’t win any awards for his parenting skills. His idea of bonding with his kid wasn’t to teach me how to fish or farm. He taught me how to lie and steal from innocent people. To be honest, I don’t even know if he ever really saw me as a child, more just a tiny impressionable human being that he could mould into the perfect addition to his team…” 

Staring over at you, he asked, “were you there back then?”

“No, that was a little before my time,” you cocked your head as you frame rocked with each of Zenna’s steps, “if I’d already been a part of the only successful attempt there’d been in all the history of Obelón at breaking into the vault in Ingorn’s palace, then I wouldn’t need to go seek help from my father after swearing I’d never even acknowledge his existence again for the remainder of my days.”

Pursing his lips, his gaze then flicked away from you as he uttered slowly, “…so, have you ever stolen anything from me?”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed loudly through the amused smile that somehow bloomed on your lips, “Buck–”

“Have you?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, “of course not.” 

“Really?” he tilted his head before turning his attention back towards the road, “your fingers never had a moment where they itched too much to resist–,” and as he spoke, you begrudgingly fulfilled his request and swept out your grasp, snatching up the coin purse at his belt right as his body’s swaying gave you an opportunity. Though as soon as you’d swiped it, completely unbeknownst to him, you threw it back in his face and the pouch struck his bearded jaw, “ow!” before it tumbled down into his grasp. 

As his eyes lifted from the purse up to shoot a glare in your direction, you just huffed, “there. You happy? I stole something from you. Now can we please just–” 

But the rest of your banter got cut short as a rumbling abruptly shook the earth beneath you. Both of the horses reacted, getting a bit spooked at their sudden unstable footing. 

Without any further warning, the dirt before you split open as a huge ankheg burrowed its way out. 

Skittering forth with its many legs, the insectoid creature ferociously jumped your horse, causing her to tumble over as the monster snapped its large mandibles at her. Tumbling to the grass, all the air got knocked out of your lungs from the impact. 

Coughing and reeling from the fall, you swiftly unsheathed a couple of daggers and tossed them just as Bucky too sent a few bolts flying as well, both of them sinking into the monster at the same time. 

Unfortunately, the ankheg hadn’t been alone as a few more then crawled out of the hole and attacked you both. 

One skurried on top of you as you were still dazed on the ground. Its long branch-like antennas swayed above its head as it screeched a clicking call over you.

The bulbous sack that protruded right on its throat throbbed as green acidic saliva began to drip out of its mouth and down its mandibles, scarcely missing your head as it sizzled against the grass.

Fiddling for a blade, you sucked in a shaky breath when you discovered there weren’t any left on your person. 

As it pinned you down and you used all of your might to keep it at bay, your glance first fluttered to your partner for help, only to discover that he too was in over his head. Your frantic eyes then flickered around, searching for anything you might be able to defend yourself with. 

And just above your head, there lied a solid rock. 

Bending your legs, you pressed your boots up against the ankheg’s hard scales, using everything you had as you slipped your right hand out and stretched it to the stone. Only your fingertips grazed it at first as it wasn’t quite in your reach. Straining till a scream forced its way out of your lungs, your grip then finally succeeded and wrapped around the rock. 

It stunned the creature slightly when you knocked the stone against its head, enough to grant you the upper hand and slip out from under it. 

You didn’t know how many times you repeatedly brought the rock down upon the monster as you lost yourself completely till you were kneeling above its smashed remains, heaving for breath, with its dark green viscera splashed across you and dripping from the stone still glued in your grasp.

The grunt of Bucky dealing the killing blow to the one he was battling didn’t manage to snap you out of your trance. But when the dying sounds of your horse cut through the blinding adrenaline within you and found your ears, in an instant the rock tumbled from your grasp.

Twisting around, tears swiftly blurred up the image of Zenna suffering on the ground, her brown-speckled stomach split open and blistering as her innards spilt out of her. 

“No, no, no–,” you shakily scrambled to your feet, but already knew there wasn’t anything you could do. 

The only thing you could do for her now was end her pain. 

Bending down, you pulled one of your daggers out of her killer’s corpse, still lying right beside her. 

Your hands were shaking so hard that you nearly dropped the blade. Every muscle in your body locked up as you tried to kneel down beside Zenna. 

Then, as tears streamed down your cheeks and dropped to the blood-stained grass below, a hand suddenly appeared and slipped the weapon out of your hand. 

Blinking up into Bucky’s blue eyes, he quietly uttered, “I’ll do it,” as he tightened his fist around the hilt of the short blade. 

As he sank down onto his knees, you turned around and shut your eyes. 

When her suffering sounds were no more and the road grew quiet, an onslaught of tears violently burst out of you. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky wrapped his arms around you before you tumbled over. Twisting slightly, you curled into him, welcoming his hug as your sobs melted against his armoured chest.

“You ready?” Bucky asked softly in your ear as he sat behind you on his ebony mount. 

Staring up at the intimidating dark stone fortress of Yoslor Penitentiary, you let out a low breath, “no.” 

Sometime in the decade since you’d been imprisoned here, your father had finally been caught. For what exactly you weren’t sure of, but the night that the king had pulled you aside to discreetly inform you, was the first one you’d soundly slept through, perhaps ever. 

Even though the last very thing you desired was to lay eyes on your dad once more, you still slipped off of the stallion but a moment after Bucky did. 

You were both let in without much fuss after stating your stature and your business. Guards led you through the prison, passed some of the cells, and escorted you to a chamber, not unlike the one you’d been in when you had talked to the king and your whole life had changed.

After you’d both taken a seat at the central table, not much time passed before, like a haunting nightmare, the voice of your father began to rumble on the other side of the closed door.

“Oh come on, gents. You can tell me who my visitor is,” your eyes fluttered shut a moment at the familiar sound, “or do you want me to guess?”

Blowing out a slow and agonising exhale, you gathered yourself right before the door burst open and in tumble your father. 

Though he was a bit slimmer now, had lost more of his hair, as well as the new accessory of heavy chains that restricted his movements, he still looked exactly the same. 

“Well, well, well…” a bright grin split apart his lips, flashing you a few of his golden teeth, as the guards tossed him down into the opposing chair and secured his chains, “my baby dewdrop,” he stared at you with the eye not scared over and covered by a leather patch, “I heard you got out.”

“Hello, Olliander,” you greeted coldly, keeping your spine straight. 

“Oh, come on, no need to be so rigid,” the chains jangled loudly and he gestured with his hands, “get over here and give your pa a big hug.” 

“Please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

“And what would I get out of this little arrangement?” 

Staring back at him, you swore you felt steam begin to billow out of your ears, “you would get to help your daughter, finally do something reminiscent of good, after running and making me take the fall when I’d thought you’d only set me up to be the decoy.”

“Look, dewdrop, it was a different time back then, the authorities were hot of our trail!” he tried to diminish your statement, “someone had to go down in order to save the rest of us.”

“So, you thought it should be your own kid?” you seethed, leaning forward in your seat ever so slightly. 

“…well, you’re tough, I knew you’d be able to handle it,” he tilted his head, “and just look at you now! If I hadn’t made that decision, then you’d never have this fancy new life of yours.” 

“Don’t you dare,” the little restraint you tried to keep a hold of snapped, “don’t you fucking dare take any of the credit. You didn’t do a single thing, my entire life, you never did anything that didn’t benefit you,” your pointer finger extended accusatorially, “so, I’m not asking you, I am telling you, you will give us the information we need, or else I’ll make sure your life here gets a hell of a lot more miserable than it already is.” 

The room fell quiet, not even Bucky dared to move before your father eventually let out a heavy sigh, “…what do you wanna know?”

“The vault in Ingorn’s palace, the one made out of hellstone,” your fingers dug into your thigh beneath the table as you spoke, “how did you do it?”

The one-eyed criminal then began to laugh, “seriously? You wanna break into that? I mean, you’re good, dewdrop, almost as good as me, but come on, with how rusty you must be these days, that is just insane–”

“Just tell us how you did it,” you barked. 

“Alright, fine,” he exhaled and rested a restrained arm against the edge of the table, “well, first of all, the lock on it is a thing of beauty, you can’t just tickle her open like a lady with a few lockpicks…” 

“You know, when you said that you knew a place in Erasild where we could stash our stuff, this isn’t what I imagined,” you stared up at the building before you, before shooting a glare in Bucky’s direction, “a brothel? Seriously? We don’t have time to pause everything just so that you can get laid.”

“Hey, this is business, not pleasure,” he stated, then playfully added before heading inside, “but if you wanna get that stick out of your ass, I’m sure some of them would like to help.”

As you entered behind him, the warmth radiating from the establishment swiftly thawed the evening chill that had settled in your bones. Navigating through the clusters of small tables, gently lit by candlelight, a trio of bards in the corner caught your ear as they strummed out a smooth ditty as a part of the sensual ambience. 

A voluptuous woman then sauntered out of a backroom with a casket of clinking wine bottles in her grasp. As she sat it down on the bar with a loud thud and her gaze then flickered up to spot your travelling companion, her face lit up into a bright smile. 

“Ah! Darling!” she immediately walked up to him and threw her arms around him. Pressing her lips to his cheek in a loud peck, she then pulled him back at arm’s length to get a good look at him, “what has it been, like three years? I was starting to think you’d died on me.”

“It's good to see you too, Helen,” a warm chuckle rumbled out of Bucky, before he then twisted back towards you, “let me introduce you,” he held out an open hand in your direction, “this is Warden Y/l/n,” you bowed your head softly as she found your eye, “snow, this is Helen Raye, owner and proprietor of The Sapphire Chateau.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam,” you offered her a tight-lipped smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she purred, letting her gaze study you a second before her plump lips parted once more, “so, will you be wanting to share your entertainment tonight, or do you want someone all for yourself? There is this girl that came to me a few years back that I know you’d just love,” your eyes couldn’t help but grow wide as Helen battered her eyelashes up at Bucky, “she can’t just bend herself into a pretzel, but every other shape imaginable.” 

“Uh, some other time, Hel,” he declined with a polite smile, “we’re not really here for that.”

“Oh,” she breathed, though still smirked back at Bucky like she was about to ravage him. 

“We just need a place to set off a few things, let Echo stay, just for a little bit while we go pay Ingorn a visit.” 

“Ah, you must be going to that fancy ball they’re throwing! I’ve no idea what the occasion is, but business has been booming the past few weeks as all sorts of lords and ladies have passed through on their way down to the capital.”

Sharing a glance with you at the new information, Bucky then fibbed, “uh, yeah, we–… we are.” 

Twisting her frame, Helen then waved down a lanky boy behind the bar and said, “I’ll have Jeremy take care of your horse,” you watched as the lad zoomed out to do his duty, “and if you want somewhere secure to store your items, you’re welcome to use the little safe in my room.” 

“Thank you,” you uttered. 

“Do you have any rooms available?” Bucky asked as Helen manoeuvred around the bar, “a hot bath would be nice before we head out again.” 

“Uh,” her vision fluttered down behind the counter where a few keys hung from small hooks, “I have one room unoccupied,” she held up a dangling key, hooked on her curved finger, “it’s yours if you want it.”

And before you could protest about how this didn’t line up with the limited time you had to work with, Bucky had already snatched up the key, “thanks.”

“Room eight,” her teeth lightly caught her bottom lip, “your favourite, if I recall correctly.” 

If his back hadn’t been turned to you, the flush that then crept up on Bucky’s features would have been noticeable to your eyes even in this low light, “it–, uh, yeah, thanks,” he then cleared his throat, “the soap and such still in the same spot?”

“It is.”

“Great,” he exhaled, then turned to you, “I’m gonna head up first, get cleaned up,” his feet already began to carry him towards the staircase in the corner, “you mind ordering us some food? I’m starving for a proper meal.” 

“Uh, sure,” you uttered, still a bit stunned as you now found yourself without a buffer, “so, what kind of food do you serve in this establishment?”

“Let me get you a menu, love,” Helen headed into the back for a moment, only to return with more than just a pamphlet of culinary options. As the list slid over the bar towards you, her palm also insistently pushed a small glass vial containing some dried herbs in your direction. 

“What–,” heat began to rise in your cheeks as you read the small label. It was athrire, the herb commonly brewed into a tea and utilised as birth control, “oh, no, thanks, but I don’t need this.”

“You’ve been on the road for a while, and from how I know that man, you’ve probably run out by now,” she winked and pushed it right back to you as you tried to return it. 

“No, it’s really not like that, we’re not–”

“Darling,” her hand enclosed momentarily around yours, “just take it.”

When you’d found the room, Bucky was so fresh out of his bath that you nearly caught a glimpse of something as he buttoned up a fresh pair of pants. Droplets still trailed down his inked physique as he turned at the sound of your entrance. 

If his painstakingly slow work at covering his drool-worthy body up again hadn’t been enough to make you more flustered than a bashful bunny, the discovery that the room only had one bed sure did the trick.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still managed to. 

And when you stated that you’d just sleep on the floor and let him have the plush mattress all to himself, Bucky argued teasingly that you’d slept under the stars together countless times before. 

But that had been different, oh so very different and he knew it.

As he disappeared to get your food, you grabbed a quick bath. The view of the night sky from out of the balcony doors relaxed and distracted you long enough that you had to scramble at the last moment when Bucky returned, knocking on the door before you shrieked for him to stay on the other side just a moment longer as you rushed out of the tub. 

After the warm meal was scarfed down and a dozen yawns had escaped your lungs, you found yourself in a place you never thought you’d actually get to be. 

In bed next to Bucky. 

You were afraid to move. Just laid there like a statue, your stare darting from the constellations clear out the tall window, to the small Zondür alter in the corner of the chamber. 

But eventually, you heard your hushed tone fill the room, “so, Helen…”

“Hm?” Bucky hummed from his side of the bed, “what about her?”

“She seems nice,” your gaze bore a hole into the ceiling. 

Hearing him shift beside you, he said, “well, she is.” 

Feeling his gaze upon your silhouette, you didn’t dare to twist and meet his eye, “…so, how many of the other people that work here do you think are nice?”

A short chuckle then bubbled out of him, “snow…” before he teased, “what are you trying to get a personal recommendation or something?”

Your mouth then flew open as you shot him a glare, “no, I just–,” letting out a loud groan, “forget I said anything,” and you frantically turned your back to him, “go to sleep.” 

“Helen is very good at what she does,” he casually informed you through his amused smirk, “she hires people who are very good at their job, people who are very nice. You’d be in good hands with any of them.”

“I-I wasn’t trying to–,” you stammered, nearly twisting around to bash his mass in the moonlight, “just shut up, please!” but he just laughed. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[frog-tyrant]

most ferocious creature in the land of the old faith

[ozzgin]

I can order a yandere cute (kawaii), who maybe because of his cute and innocent appearance managed to get close to his beloved, but maybe this boy is not only cute and has a very disturbing past...

When you described a cute yandere with a messed up past, all I could think of was Kanato from Diabolik Lovers. This one's less of an asshole though. Hopefully. I also wasn't sure what you had in mind for 'disturbing past', I may have gone overboard.

Cute!Twisted! Yandere x Reader

Children will say the strangest things. Such as the marriage promise you’ve received from the little boy you befriended a long time ago, when you were rather young yourself. Yet sometimes the words aren’t entirely devoid of meaning. He definitely hasn’t forgotten his intentions, and your current fiancé is a mere delay to his plans.

TW: mentions of abuse, obsessive behavior, violence, small age gap, death

He still remembers the day you met, so clearly and vividly. His most cherished memory. 

It was particularly cold despite the sun and his feet were hurting. He didn't have the time to put any shoes on, he ran out the moment he'd heard the sound of glass breaking. 

Mother was so scary when she'd get upset. The bulging eyes, the screaming mouth, the wild hair scattered over her face, darkening her features.

What if she were to follow him outside? No, she was never mean in front of others. Then again, the street was empty...He bit apart the skin on his fingers in panic. 

"Isn't it a bit late for pajamas?"

His eyes darted up and met hers. A girl somewhat taller and older, holding a basketball under her arm and staring intently, visibly confused. He was, after all, shivering outside by himself, barefoot and in sleeping garments in bright daylight. He blushed in embarrassment. 

"I snuck out for some fresh air."

"Rebellious already, huh?" She smirked and walked over, dropping herself on the sidewalk next to him. "I'm (Y/N). Do you live in the area? We could hang out when you feel like it. No need to sit by yourself."

She pointed to a house unexpectedly close. Has she always been nearby? Then again, he was never allowed outside. Besides the spontaneous escapades in order to avoid the burning rage, he didn't see other people much. It had always been him and Mother. 

For his own good, really. At least that's what Mother used to say. When she wasn't angry, she'd cry and hold him tight, telling him how much she pities him between hiccups and candid sobs. A vile creature like him would surely be mocked by the rest of the world. Not his fault, the poor little angel. Alas, his miserable fate still had a glimpse of hope, because Mother would never abandon him. He would always find acceptance from her all-forgiving heart.

And yet, there was always the seed of suspicion in the depths of his mind. Her sweet, soothing words felt like a hot slap over the blooming wounds already adorning his body, shaping a paradox.

Then he met you. You didn't seem to be disturbed by his presence. The following days, whenever he approached you, you'd welcome him with the same warm smile. Just like you promised. He couldn't find the ridicule he'd so often been warned about.

The puzzle pieces didn't fit together, and it became painfully obvious once Mother confronted him about his secret outings. Somehow her wrath had faded. Her shouts were mere waves echoing from somewhere distant, only grazing by his ears. She must've noticed his indifference, too, because she began rummaging her pockets for the basement key. Perhaps an old fashioned discipline would have helped him regain his voice. But the dark, cramped walls of the basement no longer frightened him. During his time spent outside, he had discovered a fact of stunning novelty:

He didn't have to listen to her. Staring into her ferocious, bottomless pits, he only found the reflection of (Y/N)'s face. Her peaceful, loving expression, devoid of pain, or fury, or punishment. 

His little hands reached for the box cutter.

"It's you that has to go downstairs, Mother. You're a liar. I hate liars."

Was it the right choice? His small outburst had ultimately cost him your company. That evening he politely called emergency to let them know his Mother had gone mad. And so they dispatched a couple of officers to investigate the gruesome cadaver, sprawled along the stairs with too many gashes to count. They shyly investigated the basement, and a social worker carefully inspected the little boy's abundant markings. This couldn't have been a suicide, but the tearful, frightened eyes of the child kept them from pressing further. Whoever had stepped foot into their home that day most likely did him a favor. Nonetheless, he was now essentially orphaned, requiring an adult, and was swiftly shipped to the first available relative.

He didn't have the time to meet you one last time. A shameful departure given his final meeting: completely inebriated with ardent affection, he dared to present to you his innermost wish. One day he'd marry you, he was certain of it. You chuckled and extended your pinky finger reassuringly. A sealed deal. 

All he had was your name and your promise and God, how dearly he clung to them every night, every passing year. His true glimmer of hope.

You're scrolling through your emails, waiting for the bus to arrive, when a gentle tap on the shoulder startles you. Behind you is a young man, although the soft, feminine features give him more of an androgynous appearance.

"May I help you?"

"You're (Y/N), aren't you?" he bats his eyelashes expectantly. 

"I am, but how do you-" 

You gaze at the stranger intently. The big, innocent eyes, the childish demeanor, there's a certain familiarity to it. Who could it be? Suddenly you're overwhelmed by nostalgia. 

"It's you! How many years...? And you haven't changed one bit!" You laugh merrily at the sight of your shy, quiet friend, all grown up. 

"H-hey now, surely I look more mature this time." He tries to emulate a somber frown as a way to prove his adulthood. "Do you have time? I'd love to catch up."

He missed you so much. 

"Right now is a little difficult, but I'll tell you what. Why don't you come over to our place in the near future?"

Huh?

"This way I can introduce you to my fiancé!" You flash him your phone in order to exchange numbers, enthusiastic about the surprise reunion.

He vacantly stares at the lockscreen depicting an unknown man holding you close to him. When he searched for your name online, he didn't find anything regarding a relationship. He didn't expect this. He shouldn't have expected this. His fingers tighten around the small velvet box in his pocket. 

Did you forget your promise to him? Or was everything a lie? No, you wouldn't...you couldn't...He fucking hates liars. But you're not one of them, are you? You're not like Mother. No, no, no, no. Breathe. It's his fault. Of course, naturally. He vanished without a word and you must've thought he abandoned you. How careless of him. How terribly rude to blame you for his mistakes. It's okay, it's alright. He'll make it up to you. Sweet, darling (Y/N). 

"Are you okay?"

He looks up and notices your worried face. 

"Me? Yes, definitely. I was just a little surprised. Hehe. Who would've thought?" He grins and winks at you. "I have an even better idea! Why don't you two come to my apartment instead? I never got the chance to congratulate you for your engagement."

"Gosh, haha, don't worry about i-"

"Please. Pretty please?" He pouts dramatically, holding onto your coat, and you blush slightly at the adorable display. "It's my way of thanking you for the nice childhood memories."

"You really have your way to convince people, huh?" You ruffle his hair and he lowers his head, enjoying the touch. "I'll let my fiancé know."

"Such a cozy place you got yourself!" You beam at the lovely atmosphere of the room. Everything is bright and inviting. 

"Uh huh. The ladies must love you." Your fiancé follows up in agreement, snacking on the fancy appetizers. 

The young man places a tray on the table and hands you both a glass of sparkling wine. 

"Do you live alone? I refuse to believe you don't have a girlfriend." You joke and turn to your partner. "He was a real loner back then. Never saw him around other kids."

"Don't out me like that, (Y/N)!" He pinches your cheek humorously. "As a matter of fact, I do��have a girlfriend."

Your fiancé raises his eyebrows, encouraging the boy to continue with details, while he gulps down the pleasantly aromatic drink. Must be expensive. 

"Then why didn't you bring her here? I want to meet her!" You whine. 

The man fiddles with his glass, observing the air bubbles that rush to the surface. 

"You already know her."

"Oh?"

Distracted by this knowledge, you stretch for your own glass and accidentally grab the one belonging to your fiancé. Before you can bring it to your lips, your head swings to the side and you can instantly feel your cheek throb, numb from the abrupt impact of someone's hand. 

"Don't fucking touch it!"

Your childhood friend is standing before you, equally shocked by his act. He stares at his reddening palm and his face twists in terror.

"I-I'm...Oh God...I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I just, I didn't know what else to do. You have to understand, please. I'd never-"

As you listen to his erratic apology, you hear the wheezing coughs of your fiancé. His breathing is irregular and he scratches his throat, unable to verbalize his struggle to you. A white foam begins to form in the corners of his mouth. You try to get up, but the man's fingers dig into your face, forcing you back on the chair. 

"Shhh shhh, it sounds uglier than it actually is. Trust me. Do you see now? I had to be a little rough, otherwise you would've gotten hurt. Hey! Look at me." He cups your cheeks with both of his hands, squatting in front of you. "Let him settle down. It won't be long."

Your vision becomes blurry.

"He needs an ambulance. Please. What did you do with the drinks?" You manage to blurt out.

"Won't make a difference."

He rests his gaze on your features for a few moments, admiring them dreamily. 

"It breaks my heart when you're sad like this. Didn't I say this is an engagement celebration?"

Without breaking eye contact, he pulls out his treasured box and opens it in your lap, revealing a ring.

"I know I disappeared without a word, but I truly had no choice. This is my way of begging for your forgiveness. Not a day went by without thinking of you, (Y/N). I, heh...I actually got this many years ago. Just carried it in my pocket in case I ever found you again." 

He giggles awkwardly, stroking your cheek protectively. 

"So don't cry. I've kept my promise after all, didn't I? Aren't you proud of me~?"

By the time his little speech ends, the room has filled with silence. Your fiancé is slouching on the chair, still and quiet. The young boy picks up your limp body, humming cheerfully. 

"You'll be the prettiest bride in the world.

Mine and mine only."