#which makes her both admirable and foolish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lqveharrington · 3 months ago

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Foolish One | C.G.

summary: you’ve been in love with Cardan since you were children and you’re not sure if he loves you back.

pairing: cardan greenbriar x fem!reader

includes: fluff, angst, kissing, jealously

a/n: soooo, it’s not my fault i keep writing one-shots

When you were born, your own father conjured up a deal with Elfhame’s King: that you were to be wed with their youngest son. As children, you and Cardan grew up with one another. You were never told you had to marry, but you both knew through the forced meet ups your parents would make you attend. You didn’t care as much. If you got to marry someone you knew since childhood, what was the harm? But Cardan seemingly didn’t care for it. Whenever the topic was brought up, he would shrug it off and change the subject before going any further.

However, the more time you spent with Cardan, the more you realized how much you actually wanted to be with him. From childhood to now, he still was by your side and protected you from the worst his so-called friends would do. He still hung out with you despite not being forced to do so. He still considered you his favorite in the entirety of Elfhame — which made you consider your own feelings.

You realized that you had fallen in love with such a cruel prince who had zero intentions of actually marrying you. Especially when you caught his attention slipping to one mortal girl.

Cardan’s head was in your lap as you rested underneath a willow tree near Balekin’s place. You both finished your lessons and Cardan decided to drag you away from the mess of his social group.

“Will you be attending this year’s summer tournament?” Cardan murmured softly as you ran your fingers through his hair, his tail wrapping around your arm loosely.

“I always do.” You quietly say back, listening to the rushing water nearby. Your eyes wandered over his face, admiring his structure whilst his eyes were shut.

He hummed, “Will you be cheering for any one in particular?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, Cardan. I’ll be cheering for someone.” He opened his eyes and looked at you expectantly, blinking innocently. “What?”

“Who?”

“You.” You roll your eyes again, earning a pinch to your thigh. You always cheered for him, you didn’t see how this year was any different. “Ow, asshole.”

Cardan gave you a cheeky smirk as he smoothed his palm over your calf, trace small shapes and words you couldn’t identify. You shut your eyes for a split second, letting the moment wash over you before Cardan spoke again.

His voice was a little above a whisper when he spoke. “There’s a new person joining the tournament this year.”

You opened your eyes and looked down at him, raising an eyebrow as if you were asking a who? He met your eyes with a hint of intrigue and something else you couldn’t place.

“I heard the mortal begged her father to participate in the tournament. She said she was going to best me but I—“

As he kept talking about Jude Duarte, your mood continued to sour. You watched as his eyes look into your with so much excitement, making your heart clench at the sight. Just once you wished he would talk about you and look exactly like he did now… You needed to leave before you said something you regretted.

Luckily, your younger sister found you just in time.

“Hey!” She ran over to the both of you, her infectious giggles reaching you. “Mama’s looking for you!” She squealed when Cardan sat up and hugged her tightly, trying to pull away from him. “Cardan!”

You click your tongue and rescue your younger sister, pulling her in your arms instead. “Why does mama need me right now? And how did you get here?”

Her giggles still rang through the air as Cardan sent a teasing smile toward her. “Mama knew you were over here! She’s waiting nearby. And…” She tapped her chin and furrowed her eyebrows in thought, trying to figure out why she needed to get you so suddenly. “Oh! And mama said you have to come home to teach me embroidery while she makes dinner!”

“Right now? The sun just started to set.” Cardan furrows his brows and gives you a weird look.

You shrug and stand from your spot underneath the tree, dusting the dirt off your skirt. Your sister picked flowers from around you as Cardan followed suit and sent you a cheeky smile. He lowered himself and bowed right before you, making Arabella drop all her flowers in surprise.

“Cardan! Someone’s going to see you!” You speak through your teeth, pulling him up from his position. “Don’t do that.”

“Are you secretly a princess?” Your sister tugged at your dress, eyes blown wide in interest.

You shake your head and glare at Cardan who wore a smirk proudly. “I’m not. Cardan just wants to be rude.”

“I thought it was funny.” He shrugged and sent you a wink.

“Bye, Cardan.” You rolled your eyes and pulled your sister away from him, knowing she was going to want answers later.

“Can’t Cardan come too?” She pouted and crossed her arms, ready to throw a tantrum.

You sighed and rubbed your forehead. Of course she wanted Cardan to come with, he was her favorite from the royal family and you two were always together. You slowly turned around and beckoned Cardan to follow.

“Aw, you must be in love with me.” He teased you as he jogged to catch up.

Your sister separated from you and jumped into Cardan’s arms, who then proceeded to carry her on his back. You rolled your eyes at the both of them and continued walking down the path, ignoring the conversation that they were having and focusing on the dirt trail in front of you.

“She definitely likes you.” Arabella whispered into Cardan’s ear, giggling when he freezes in place and the only movement was his tail swishing back and forth, seemingly in excitement. “She talks about you all the time. It’s so annoying.”

“Does she? What does she talk about?” He adjusted her and continued the trek, eyes trained on you and you only.

“Everything.” She sighed, leaning her cheek on his back. “She talks about how you look, how you act, how you talk… Even how you look at her!”

Cardan raised his brows at the irony, “All good things?”

You sister shrugged and drew stars on his back, “Sometimes she gets annoyed, but she mainly talks about how interesting you are.”

“Interesting…”

Before Arabella could add anything else, you turned around squinted your eyes at the two of them. "You two are awfully quiet back there. What are you talking about?"

"We were talking about y—"

Cardan quickly covered your sister's mouth as she jumped off his back to tell you. You sent him an incredulous look as your sister puffed her cheeks up in frustration.

Cardan sent you a strained smile, "She just licked my hand."

"Oh, Arabella—!" You scolded, taking her by the shoulders and dusting dirt off her for lack of finding something to fuss with.

"I was going to say something and he interrupted me!" She huffed and glared at Cardan.

Cardan pursed his lips and looked back over to you, sending an apologetic look when your mother rounded over to you three.

“Oh, Prince Cardan! Will you bring joining us for dinner?” She dusted her hands off and sent him a soft smile.

He tilted his head before answering, “I’m sure my brother wouldn’t mind if I did.”

The trek to your house wasn't too bad. Arabella walked with your mother while you stayed back with Cardan. You and Cardan spoke in hush tones, causing your sister to look back every second. She wanted to join the teenagers too.

Subconsciously, Cardan's tail wrapped close to your hip. It wasn't uncommon for such to happen, but something felt different. You glanced up at him and tilted your head when he shrugged.

“Your sister says you talk about me a lot.”

You scrunch your nose and fiddle with your rings. “She talks a lot.”

Cardan hummed at your deflection. Because you were both Faerie, you were accustomed to looping your answers to avoid the truth itself. You stare into his black eyes, the gold shining from the setting sun. He squinted at your intense stare and stuck his tongue out at you.

You let out a soft chuckle before looking forward again. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you found yourself stepping closer to Cardan.

He tilted his chin down toward his chest to hide a faint smirk and cleared his throat when he saw your manor approaching.

“You promise you’re watching the tournament this year?” Cardan glanced over at you and grinned when you rolled your eyes.

He would never tire of you rolling your eyes at his quick remarks.

“Of course, I never miss it.” You nudge your arm into his. “And I’m sure you would be upset if I didn’t show up.”

“I won’t answer that.” He followed you inside the manor as the help began to bow at his presence. “But that means you’ll watch me beat the mortal in my own game.”

Your high finally deflated at the mention of Jude Duarte once more. You bit your tongue and slipped out of his hold, eyes now avoiding his gaze. Even just the slightest mention upset you.

Cardan noticed your behavior, of course. He sat on the arm chair of the living room as you plucked embroidery materials from the cabinets near by and ran his fingers through his hair when you didn’t even acknowledge him on your way out.

Just before you left, Cardan shot up from his seat and grasped your wrist, causing you to whip around in shock and confusion.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asked, eyes searching yours for some kind of answer. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“Cardan, I really have to—“ You try deflecting.

“Tell me.” He gently squeezed your wrist, shutting his eyes when you exhaled deeply.

Your frown deepened as you spoke, “It’s just… You always talk about Jude. What’s special about her? She’s a mortal.”

“I don’t always talk about her.” Cardan frowned in return and squeezed your wrist gently. “I barely talk about.”

In the moment, you believed he did speak about her all the time. In actuality, he rarely spoke about her fondly. All he did was ever complain about her. But you didn’t take it that way at all, causing issues such as these.

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I. Don’t.” Cardan emphasized each word with the same vigor, finally releasing you from his grip.

“Okay, you know what? I don’t want to talk about this right now.” You huff and turn to find Arabella before Cardan stopped you again. “What—?”

He tugged you closer and held your arms softly, eyes looking all across your face, almost in hesitation. You were about to question him before you caught what he was insinuating. Your mouth parted ever so slightly as they dried, meeting his blown eyes. You nodded ever so slightly, which was immediately followed by a quick smile and sudden wave of passion.

Cardan had kissed you. On. The Lips.

You thought it was a dream but after pinching yourself for several seconds, you knew it was true. His hand was placed delicately on your jaw when he parted, eyes lidded and lips twitching into a smirk at your expression.

“What was that for?” You cleared your throat and tilted your head to try and hide the rising heat to your cheeks.

“I love you, but sometimes you can be dense.” Cardan murmured as he thumbed your cheek.

His words clearly had an effect on you after you nearly collapsed on the spot from two surprises in under a minute. You cleared your throat again and meet his eyes for the first time in a hot second, noticing his amused expression.

“You love me?” You whispered, not caring that you had just shared your first kiss with the boy you loved since childhood. “You truly love me?”

“How can I not?” He wiped a smudge of dirt off your cheek before removing his hand, lacing it with yours instead.

By now, you knew your face was burning and you were totally giving it away. “You love me?”

Cardan gave you a look, squeezing your hand. “Yes, I do.”

You bite your bottom lip softly in excitement, “Really?”

“Yes.” He drawled and pulled you into a hug. “You really like hearing that.”

“I do.” You tilt your head up on his chest and smile. “But that’s only because I love you so much more.”

“Impossible.”

“I thought we only told the truth.” You grin before his lips met yours again in retaliation. Parting, you give a playful glare, “That’s unfair.”

“Never said it was.”

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elryuse · 22 days ago

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For Better Or Worse, Right?

Yandere Asa & Rami X Male Reader

Requested By My Friend @superkpopeditsgirlgroup on Tumblr & Discord. I hope You Like it.

The first time you saw Asa and Rami on stage, you were captivated. The way they moved, the way their voices blended seamlessly—it was perfection, an artistry that touched something deep within you. You followed them religiously, attending every live broadcast, buying every album, and scouring social media for their latest updates. Your admiration wasn't just infatuation; it felt like love. You convinced yourself that what you wanted most was their happiness, even if it came at the expense of your own.

But never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd meet them.

The day of the fan meeting felt surreal. As you stood in line clutching your album and a handwritten letter, your heart raced. Hundreds of other fans surrounded you, all buzzing with the same excitement. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, you felt like today was your day. A flicker of hope, perhaps foolish, told you that something special would happen.

When it was finally your turn, you stepped up to the table where Asa and Rami sat, radiant and smiling. Asa's sharp eyes scanned you curiously, while Rami offered you a warm, genuine grin.

"Hello! What's your name?" Asa asked, tilting her head slightly.

You swallowed hard, feeling your palms grow damp. "Y-Y/n."

Rami leaned forward slightly, her voice soft yet teasing. "You look nervous, Y/n. Don't worry; we don't bite."

Their laughter, light and melodic, put you at ease, if only for a moment. You handed them your album and watched as they signed it, occasionally glancing up at you. It felt like time slowed as they asked you questions—what you liked about their music, which performance was your favorite. You answered as best you could, trying not to stumble over your words.

Then, as Asa was handing back your album, she slipped a small note inside. Her fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment, sending a shiver up your spine. She winked before leaning back.

The fan meeting ended, but your world had just shifted. When you opened the note later, it simply read: Text me sometime with a phone number scrawled beneath it. Your hands trembled. Was this a mistake? Did she give this to anyone else?

You stared at the note all night, questioning its authenticity. But the next day, with your courage bolstered, you sent a text. To your surprise, the reply came quickly.

Asa : Hey, Y/n! It’s me, Asa. Don’t tell anyone I gave you my number, okay? ;) How are you?

You : Hi, Asa. I’m… honestly, I’m still trying to believe this is real. Is it really you?

Asa : Of course, silly! Why would I joke about this? Rami says hi, by the way!

Rami : Hi, Y/n! Asa’s been talking about you nonstop since yesterday, so I figured I’d join in, haha.

From that point on, your life became a whirlwind of excitement. Asa and Rami texted you daily, sharing photos and updates that no one else got to see. Sometimes, they’d even call late at night, their laughter and voices keeping you company when the world felt too quiet.

"Y/n," Asa said one night during a call, her voice playful but serious underneath. "You’re really special, you know that? I can tell you genuinely care about us, not just as idols but as people. That’s rare."

"I just want you both to be happy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," Rami chimed in, her tone lighter, "you make us happy too. Don’t forget that."

It felt like a dream. They were everything you ever wanted—kind, funny, and breathtakingly beautiful. And somehow, inexplicably, they seemed to like you back.

The dream, however, began to crack weeks later.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you received a text from Asa. At first, your heart leaped, but as you read it, a strange weight settled in your chest.

Asa : Hey, Y/n. Just thought you should know—Rami and I both have boyfriends. I hope that doesn’t change anything between us.

Your hands froze over the screen. Boyfriends? It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. You re-read the message several times, hoping you’d misunderstood. But the words didn’t change. They had boyfriends.

"Are you okay with that?" Asa asked during a call later, her tone light but with an edge of concern.

"Of course," you lied, forcing a laugh. "Why wouldn’t I be? I just want you both to be happy, remember?"

Asa sighed in relief. "I knew you’d understand. You’re too sweet, Y/n."

Despite your words, a storm brewed inside you. You convinced yourself it didn’t matter. They were happy, and that was all you ever wanted. But as time passed, the texts grew less frequent. The calls dwindled. Asa and Rami, once so warm and engaging, began to feel distant.

One evening, after nearly two weeks of silence, you decided to text them. The reply was curt.

Rami : Sorry, Y/n. We’ve been really busy lately. Hope you’re doing well.

Busy? You wanted to believe it, but their social media told a different story. Pictures of them laughing with friends, enjoying lavish dinners, and spending time with their boyfriends flooded your feed. There was no mention of being "busy."

The pain was sharp, almost unbearable. You sat in your room, staring at your phone, hoping for another message, another chance to feel the warmth they once offered. But the screen remained dark.

Had they forgotten about you? Did the moments you shared mean nothing to them? The thought consumed you, pulling you into a dark, restless spiral.

The decision to let go wasn’t easy. It had taken weeks—no, months—of restless nights, wondering if you were just a footnote in their story. Asa and Rami had once made you feel like you belonged in their world, but now, that world felt unreachable.

Staring at your phone, you took a deep breath and began typing the message that had been weighing on your mind.

You : Hey Asa, hey Rami. I hope you’re both doing well. I just wanted to say thank you—for everything. Knowing you, even for a little while, has been one of the best experiences of my life.

I think it’s time for me to step back, though. You both have your group, your fans, and your lives. And I’ll keep supporting you, always. But it’s time for me to focus on my own life, too.

No matter what, I’ll always love you both. Take care, okay?

You hesitated before pressing send. Once the message left your phone, there was no taking it back. But deep down, you knew this was for the best. The bond you once shared was gone, and clinging to it only made the ache worse.

Asa responded a few hours later, her reply short and devoid of emotion.

Asa : Got it. Thanks for understanding. Take care too.

Rami didn’t respond at all.

It stung, more than you cared to admit. But you told yourself this was the closure you needed. They were busy with their careers, their boyfriends, their lives. It was selfish to expect anything more.

For the first time in what felt like forever, your phone was quiet. There were no late-night texts, no selcas or updates that made your heart flutter. The silence was deafening at first, but slowly, you began to adjust.

You focused on work, picking up new hobbies to fill the void they left behind. Life started to feel... manageable. The pain lingered, but it dulled over time. You told yourself that Asa and Rami had moved on, and so should you.

Meanwhile, Asa and Rami were riding the high of their latest comeback. Their schedules were packed with performances, interviews, and fan events. They barely noticed your absence, too consumed by the whirlwind of their careers and their relationships.

At least, that’s what you thought.

It started small. A message from Asa late at night.

Asa : Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?

You stared at the screen, conflicted. Part of you wanted to reply, to fall back into the pattern of clinging to their fleeting attention. But you resisted. She didn’t need you, not really.

A few days later, Rami sent you a selca. Her smile was radiant as always, but the caption beneath it struck an odd note.

Rami : Miss your compliments, Y/n. Hope you’re doing okay.

Why now? You hadn’t heard from them in weeks, and now they were reaching out as if nothing had changed. You replied politely but kept your responses brief, not wanting to reopen wounds that had barely begun to heal.

But the messages didn’t stop.

Asa and Rami started texting you daily again, more frequently than before. At first, it was casual—asking how you were, what you were up to. Then it became more persistent.

Asa : Why don’t you ever call anymore?

Rami: You’re not ignoring us, are you?

You tried to maintain boundaries, replying sporadically, but they seemed determined to pull you back into their orbit. They’d send you photos—candid shots from backstage, videos of them goofing around in the studio. It was as if they were trying to remind you of the connection you once shared.

One night, Asa called you out of the blue. Her voice was unusually sharp.

"Why haven’t you been talking to us, Y/n?" she demanded.

"I thought it was better this way," you admitted. "You’re both so busy, and I didn’t want to get in the way."

"You’re not in the way," Asa snapped. "We... we liked having you around. Don’t you care about us anymore?"

Her words left you stunned. Before you could respond, Rami’s voice joined the call, softer but no less insistent.

"You promised you’d always love us, Y/n. Did you forget?"

Their messages became more erratic over the following weeks. If you didn’t reply quickly enough, they’d bombard you with texts, sometimes accusing, sometimes pleading.

Asa : Are you talking to someone else?

Rami : Don’t forget who was there for you first.

You started to feel like a prisoner in your own life, their presence suffocating despite the physical distance between you. They began to show up in unexpected places—cafes you frequented, even outside your apartment building. Always with the same excuses: "We were in the area," or "We just wanted to see you."

Their boyfriends seemed to vanish from the picture. Asa and Rami never mentioned them anymore, and their social media accounts were conspicuously devoid of any couple photos. When you asked about it, Asa brushed it off with a dismissive laugh.

"They weren’t important," she said. "Not like you."

One night, you came home to find a package waiting for you. Inside was a framed photo of Asa and Rami, along with a handwritten note.

We belong to you, Y/n. Don’t ever forget that.

Your heart pounded as you stared at the note. The handwriting was shaky, almost frantic. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut: they hadn’t moved on at all. If anything, they had become obsessed.

You tried to confront them, but they denied everything, their voices sweet and convincing. "You’re imagining things," Rami said, her smile never reaching her eyes. "We just care about you, that’s all."

But their actions told a different story. You began to feel like you were being watched, their presence lingering even when they weren’t there.

The opportunity to manage Nov4 was a lifeline. After everything with Asa and Rami, it felt like a chance to start over. Nov4 was a smaller girl group, just beginning to make a name for themselves in the competitive industry. The girls—Mina, Hana, Jisoo, and Nari—were hardworking, kind, and grateful for your guidance. Working with them brought a sense of purpose you hadn’t felt in months.

For the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

But it didn’t last.

The fan event was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a chance for Nov4 to connect with their growing fanbase. You stood near the back of the venue, watching as the girls charmed their audience with bright smiles and energetic performances.

Everything seemed perfect—until you felt it.

A chill ran down your spine, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. You scanned the crowd, your heart sinking when your eyes landed on two familiar figures. Asa and Rami.

They stood near the back, their faces partially obscured by masks and hats, but their eyes told you everything. They weren’t here for Nov4. They were here for you.

Asa’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel, while Rami’s expression was a mix of hurt and fury. They didn’t approach, didn’t make a scene, but their presence was enough to rattle you.

Your phone buzzed incessantly in your pocket.

Asa : So this is what you’ve been doing? Babysitting nobodies?

Rami : Do you think you can replace us with them?

Asa : We see you, Y/n. Don’t ignore us.

Your hands trembled as you turned off your phone, shoving it deep into your pocket. This was wrong. What they were doing was wrong. They had boyfriends, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?

Ignoring them seemed like the only option, but it only seemed to provoke them further. The messages became more erratic, their tone oscillating between anger and desperation.

Asa : You’re ours, Y/n. You promised.

Rami : Why are you avoiding us? Do you think you can escape?

Asa : We’re not going to let you forget us.

You blocked their numbers, but somehow, they found other ways to contact you—through anonymous accounts, through emails, even through fan mail addressed to Nov4.

One night, as you were walking back to your car after a long day at the studio, you found a note taped to your windshield.

You can’t hide from us, Y/n.

Your blood ran cold

The breaking point came during another fan event for Nov4. The girls were busy signing albums and chatting with fans when you noticed a commotion near the entrance. Asa and Rami walked in, flanked by their boyfriends.

Your stomach dropped.

They made a beeline for you, their expressions icy and unreadable. Before you could react, Asa’s boyfriend shoved you back against a table, causing a loud crash that drew everyone’s attention.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Asa hissed, her voice low but venomous.

"You think you can just walk away from us?" Rami added, her eyes glinting with malice.

The girls of Nov4 froze, their smiles faltering as they watched the scene unfold. Mina stepped forward hesitantly. "Is everything okay?"

Asa turned to her, her smile sickly sweet. "Oh, everything’s fine. We’re just catching up with an old friend. Right, Y/n?"

You didn’t answer, your jaw clenched as you tried to contain your humiliation. Asa’s boyfriend gave you another shove for good measure, laughing mockingly.

"You’re pathetic," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jisoo and Nari moved to your side, their expressions protective. "Leave him alone," Jisoo said, her voice trembling but firm.

Asa sneered, but she didn’t push further. "We’ll see you around, Y/n," she said, her tone dripping with warning.

They left as suddenly as they’d arrived, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. Nov4’s fans whispered among themselves, the girls looking at you with a mixture of concern and confusion.

That night, Mina found you sitting alone in the practice room, staring blankly at the floor. She sat down beside you, her usual bubbly demeanor subdued.

"Who were they?" she asked gently.

"Just... people I used to know," you said, your voice hollow.

Mina didn’t push for details. Instead, she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Whatever’s going on, we’ve got your back. Okay?"

Her words brought a lump to your throat. You nodded, grateful but unable to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you like a shadow.

Because deep down, you knew this wasn’t over. Asa and Rami weren’t going to let you go that easily.

The bullying started subtly but escalated quickly. Asa and Rami seemed determined to destroy every shred of peace you’d managed to find. At first, it was snide remarks during public events, whispers loud enough for you and Nov4 to overhear.

"Guess even nobodies need a manager," Rami had said once, her boyfriend laughing along.

Their boyfriends became involved, too, their behavior disgusting and cruel. They made lewd jokes about Nov4, their appearances, and their talents. The girls—Mina, Hana, Jisoo, and Nari—tried to stay strong, but it was clear the harassment was taking a toll.

You saw the exhaustion in their eyes, the way their smiles faltered during rehearsals.

One night, as you were walking Mina to her car, she confided in you. "Why are they doing this to us, Y/n? What did we do wrong?"

You couldn’t tell her the truth. That this nightmare was because of you.

"I’ll handle it," you said firmly, though the weight of your promise felt unbearable.

When Asa and Rami’s harassment extended to Nov4’s performances—spreading false rumors, sabotaging their equipment—you’d had enough. You sent a message demanding a meeting, hoping to reason with them.

They replied almost instantly.

Asa : We’ll be there. We’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses.

The meeting took place in an abandoned café after hours. Asa and Rami arrived hand in hand, their smiles unsettlingly sweet.

"You wanted to talk?" Asa asked, her tone mockingly innocent.

"Stop this," you said, your voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Leave Nov4 out of this. Whatever you want from me, I’ll—"

"Whatever we want?" Rami interrupted, smirking. "Y/n, you already know what we want. We want you."

"I can’t—I won’t," you stammered. "This is wrong, and you know it. You have boyfriends, careers—"

"Boyfriends?" Asa cut you off, laughing darkly. "Oh, Y/n. You still don’t get it, do you?"

Rami reached into her bag and pulled out a tablet. She tapped the screen, and a live feed appeared.

Your blood ran cold.

Nov4. The girls were tied to chairs in what looked like a dimly lit basement. They were crying, their muffled screams piercing your heart.

"What—what the hell is this?" you yelled, lunging toward them.

Rami stepped back, holding the tablet out of reach. "Don’t worry," she said sweetly. "We’re just helping you make a decision."

"Let them go!" you begged, your voice cracking. "They haven’t done anything! Please, I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t hurt them!"

Asa leaned in, her face inches from yours. "You say that, but you’re still trying to run from us. Why, Y/n? Why can’t you see we’re meant to be together?"

"This isn’t love," you spat, tears streaming down your face. "This is sick!"

Asa and Rami exchanged a look before smiling.

"Well," Asa said, her tone turning cold. "If you’re not going to choose, we’ll make the decision for you."

She gestured to the tablet, and the camera angle shifted. Two men stepped into the frame—Asa and Rami’s so-called boyfriends. One of them smirked at the camera before pulling out a knife.

"No!" you screamed, your voice breaking as the men approached the girls.

Mina, Hana, Jisoo, and Nari screamed, their cries muffled by the gags. You pleaded, begged, but Asa and Rami just watched, their expressions eerily calm.

The men acted quickly, their movements efficient and brutal. You screamed as the feed went black, the sound of the girls’ cries haunting you.

"You... you monsters!" you yelled, collapsing to your knees.

Asa crouched beside you, her voice a whisper. "Don’t you see? We did this for you. They were in the way."

"You’re insane!"

Rami sighed, her tone almost bored. "You’ll understand eventually. But for now..."

There was an explosion in the distance, shaking the ground beneath you.

Asa smiled. "Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ve served their purpose."

You stared at them in horror as they stood, hand in hand, laughing at the destruction they’d wrought.

You collapsed to the ground, your knees weak and trembling. The weight of it all the screams of Nov4 still echoing in your mind, the sight of Asa and Rami laughing as if they hadn't just orchestrated a massacre-was too much.

"You're monsters," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Rami knelt in front of you, her eyes wide and filled with a dark kind of love. "We're not monsters, Y/n. We're your salvation."

"You'll understand someday," Asa said, crouching beside you, her voice soft like a lullaby. "This is all for you. Everything we've done is because we love you."

"Love?" you spat, tears streaming down your face. "You call this love? You've destroyed everything! You've killed innocent people!"

Rami tilted her head, her smile unnervingly gentle. "They were just distractions. Now it's just us. The way it was always meant to be."

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms. Guilt and anger warred within you, but the guilt won.

"This is my fault," you whispered, your voice breaking. "If I'd stayed away... if I'd just..."

"You're right," Asa said, her tone calm yet cruel.

"It is your fault. But that's okay. We forgive you."

Rami leaned closer, her breath warm against your ear. "We'll always forgive you, Y/n. No matter what."

You couldn't take it anymore. The weight of their words, the lives lost because of you-it was unbearable. A broken sob escaped your lips as you clutched your head, shaking violently.

"I... I can't do this anymore," you choked out. "I can't..."

Your hand moved instinctively toward your pocket, where you kept a small pocketknife.

Maybe, just maybe, you could end this nightmare.

But Asa was faster. Her hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with an iron grip.

"Ah-ah," she cooed, her voice a mockery of sweetness. "That's not an option, Y/n. You don't get to leave us."

Rami pulled a syringe from her bag, the liquid inside glowing faintly in the dim light. "We thought you might try something stupid," she said with a sigh. "But don't worry, we've got it under control."

Your eyes widened in panic as you struggled, but Asa's grip was unyielding.

"Let me go!" you screamed, thrashing against them. "Please, just let me go!"

Rami's smile never wavered as she pressed the needle against your arm. "Shh," she whispered. "It'll all be over soon."

The sharp prick of the needle pierced your skin, and a cold numbness began to spread through your body. Your vision blurred, the edges of the world dissolving into darkness.

"No... no," you mumbled, your voice weak.

Asa leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear. "You're ours now, Y/n. There's no more running, no more hiding."

"You'll never escape us," Rami added, her voice low and haunting.

As the world faded away, their faces were the last thing you saw-smiling, serene, and utterly unhinged.

"You belong to us," they said in unison, their voices echoing in your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

And with that, everything went dark.

The End

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potchi-fics · 2 months ago

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2:27 am (part four of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv | v

sevika wakes up with a sore body. strangely, she notices that her body is patched up, wounds clean and all, hell, even littered with bandages and gauze. she checks the aged clock that is nailed on the wall: 2:27. her gaze falls to her window, seeing its still dark— its 2:27 in the morning. a groan of pain emits from her trying to sit up which she did, almost dying in the process. however, soft snores and breathing catch her attention.

its you.

what are you still doing in here with her? you’re supposed to leave. but who is she kidding, you look soft like an angel– your hands wrapped around a pillow on your chest, and your head laying on top of it. she doesnt know it but a small smile is on her rugged face: foolish woman. only does she stop staring at your figure when she sees a shiver from your figure to get you a blanket.

but her heavy footsteps cause you to wake up and groggily ask her.

“where you goin’?” your voice laced with sleepiness.

Sevika signals for you to take the couch, “to find a blanket.”

you are about to protest except she shushes you with a look, successfully shutting you up. she disappears into another room as you quietly move to the couch. you lay down face-first, sleep taking over.

“here,” the blanket gets thrown on your back, “use it.”

you thought she was gonna stay but she heads for the door. pushing through your exhaustion, you lift your head up to ask her the same question.

“where you going, sevika?” you glance at the clock, “its 2:33 in the morning, come back here on the couch.”

without looking back at you, she pulls out a cape.

she takes a few seconds, “job’s not finished.”

“atleast take a couple of more hours to rest,” you argue back.

you stand up to block her way– determined to somehow find a way to stop her. you look up at her, she’s a massive woman and you hate that you like it.

sevika frowns, “step aside, topsider.”

“im serious, youre hurt,” your voice holds concern, “and youre hurt bad.”

“and im serious, step aside.”

she takes a step forward but you dont budge. you only cross your arm before poking her side, the moment you see her wince, you raise your eyebrow.

she swats your finger away, “dont touch me.”

you poke her again, wanting to prove your point. you wont back down easily. she’s hurt and you will do everything in your power to stop her. unexpectedly, she roughly grabs your wrist and pushes you against the nearest wall– pinning you.

“youre real stubborn,” sevika pushes her thick hips onto yours.

you discreetly swallow, “im just sayin’.”

“stay out of my way, topsider,” she leans down, close enough that you can see every minute detail on her face.

you dare to get closer, one gust of wind and your lips will meet. she gazes at your lips for a split second, returning to your eyes immediately. your own admire her scars, how the blue blends well with her skin, how it sends fire to your abdomen– again.

yet one question lingers in your mind.

“why do you care?” she pulls away.

she beats you to it. why do you care? you’ve only met her a couple of days ago. your mind racks up to try and formulate an answer but nothing comes.

sevika’s voice slices through the tense silence, “this means nothing.”

the both of you withdraw from each other, chests heaving due to just what happened. a horndog is what you are, dont even deny it.

her footsteps get quieter as she exits the door– you look fixedly at the floor, your arms falling back to your side. reality sinks in: yeah, this means nothing. why do i care? the click of the door makes you grit your teeth; frustrated at not only sevika, but yourself as well because what are you doing? why do you care for a woman who youve only met days ago?

this means nothing.

you throw yourself into your work after that altercation. all you have done is work all day and all night, not bothering to take a break and it is evident on your face– tired eyes, not sleeping and eating properly, and exhausted. nonetheless, she’s still in your head. you cant seem to get her out of your mind.

you lean back on your chair, “get out of my fucking head.”

“get who out of your head?” a british woman stands in the doorway of your workshop.

you perk up, “caitlyn, what are you doing here?”

“im here to ask you if youre gonna come to progress day.” caitlyn leans on the frame of your doorway. “also, ive heard you havent been eating well. or resting, in general.”

your chair creaks as you lean back, “ill think ‘bout it. and im fine, caitlyn.”

she’s a friend of yours, she stops by your shop every once in a while to help her with the maintenance of her gun. although you consider her a friend, she doesnt know about your secret trips to the undercity nor your interaction with silco’s righthand woman, sevika. she raises her eyebrow but you dismiss it, working back on your project.

“really, im okay, officer kiramman,” just in time, her mother calls out for her, “and your mothers calling you. say hi to her for me.”

“take care of yourself, will you,” caitlyn bids you goodbye.

the grip on your small screwdriver loosens up and it drops on your table with a thud: get out of my head, sevika.

she consumes all of your thoughts: her scent, her body, her nose, her. you think back to when she pressed herself against you, how solid and hard she was, how she was much bigger than you, how she could pin both of your hands using only one from her. god, it sends heat throughout your body, you cant help it. the things she’s doing to you even when she’s not around. one day, ill kill her myself– you bang your forehead on the table.

note: is it obvious that this is a slow burn

#imagines #fanfic #writing #wlw #arcane #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x female reader #sevika x reader #wlw post #slow burn

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alexiapp · 1 year ago

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𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: none mostly fluff

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Leah finally get to get out and get a break after the birth of your daughter.

(This is a very short one-shot almost a blurb but enjoy!!)

“Hey Lee !” You said yelling for your wife from you guys shared walk-in closet.

“Yes, Love ?!” The blonde said responding to you from the bedroom.

“Have you seen my earrings?” You said walking out the closet, showcasing your long, black, skin tight dress.

You were met with pure silence, your wife just starring at you in admiration.

“Hello ?? C’mon Lee we need to go we’re going to be late” You said bouncing up and down with a whiny tone.

“Sorry, you just look absolutely stunning babe” The blonde said slowly standing up from the bed walking towards you.

“Speak for yourself you look gorgeous my love” You said pecking her lips lightly.

“But seriously Leah i need you to help me, Please” You said pleading.

“Okay, Let’s hurry though we have to get our girl to my mum’s house, and dodge traffic.” She said huffing.

Fast forward you two grabbed your daughter’s stuff that she’d need for the overnight stay at her grandma’s.

You and Leah headed to you guys car, You buckled in your daughter.

As Leah drove her blue eyes gazed through the rear-view mirror looking at the back seat. “You okay back there baby girl?” The brit said to your daughter in the back. To which your daughter babbled back almost like she was replying to Leah.

—————————————

You leah grabbed your baby girl and knocked on the door.

“Oh hello!” Amanda gasped in surprise.

“Give me my grand baby !!” The redhead said reaching her hands out in a ‘grabby hands’ expression.

To which Leah gently handed you guys daughter to her. Your daughter letting out a squeal in excitement, when she saw her grandmother.

“You guys go me and Lillyanna, will be fine” she then begun to tickle your daughter “Isn’t that right ?” she said teasing her, bringing cute laughter from your 6 month old daughter.

You smiled and hugged Amanda and kissed your daughter and said you ‘thank you’s’ and ‘goodbyes’ to which your wife did the same.

“I’m so nervous lee, i hope everything’s going to be okay.” You said chuckling nervously.

“You my girl need to stop worrying, everything will be fine. I’ll make sure you have fun” Leah said rubbing her thumb against your cheekbones, leaning in for a kiss which turned heated quickly.

You moved Leah’s hand from your thigh and said “Okay, let’s go we’re going to be late.” You said smiling and patting the blonde’s thigh.

————————————

You and Leah entered the bar to be met with the sight of her teammates.

“Look, who finally decided to join us, the Williamson’s” Katie said shouting announcing to the teammates, the irish said in a teasing manner. Seeming a little tipsy already

“Look’s like you already had a drink yourself yeah?” The blue eyed woman said teasing Katie, To which she pulled her into a warm hug.

“Hi Katie” You said greeting smiling lightly, bringing her into a hug.

“Well look at you…Your looking lovely i must say, Leah you wouldn’t mind if i let her give me a lil spin” She said chuckling twirling her finger in a round motion, as she let out a snort.

To which you chuckled loudly slapping the woman’s shoulder, making your wife shake her head, and grab your wrist. “Watch out Katie” Your wife said squinting her eyes pointing at the brown eyed woman.

To which you both walked to the bar to get a drink “Cmon let’s get a drink love.” Leah said kissing your neck.

—————————————

Time now passed and You and Leah were now more than tipsy. You and your wife looking foolish slow dancing to the music playing at the bar. “I love you so much Leah, thank you for bringing me out” You said stumbling around.

If the sober version of yourself was looking back you would think you were making a complete 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 out of yourself.

But in this moment you didn’t care about anything but Your wife.

“Love you so much too, my girl” She said slurring her words a little, her Milton Keynes Accent coming out thick every time she spoke.

She brought her lips to your neck kissing lightly, making you giggle. To which encouraged her to start sucking and nipping at your neck, you giggling soon turning into breathy moans.

“Lee, stop!” You said slapping her shoulder playfully.

To which she ignored you and only sucked harder making you moan a little loudly than you wanted to.

“Oi ! You to get a room” One of the teammates yelled to which a clash of drunken laughter followed behind.

“I hate you” You said with an embarrassing face pushing Leah lightly. “You and I both know that’s far from the truth” She said pecking your lips multiple times making you giggle.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

#woso x reader #woso community #barca #woso imagine #ask me stuff #woso #woso fanfics #ask me anything #woso soccer #woso one shot #woso couples #woso blurbs #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah rambles #arsenal #katie mccabe

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lunastrophe · 1 year ago

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Drow Lore 🕷️ Drow Terms Of Address (part 2)

More terms of address for drow characters and (Lolth-sworn) drow - drow interactions. This time a few tips on how to address your drow lover in various types of relationships 🖤

🕷️ Choosing A Lover - in a Lolth-sworn drow society, a female always makes the first move. In theory, she is free to sate her physical desire with whatever partner arouses her attention. In practice, though, it is not always that simple. Sometimes things get complicated: when the person she wants has already been claimed by another female, or is subjected to someone more powerful, or is a member of a rival noble house, or (in case of females) has much higher station than her.

Drow males cannot choose their lovers, at least not female ones. In a Lolth-sworn drow society, they have no right to consent - or to refuse to consent, for that matter. They are simply taken by females and they are expected to comply and satisfy them, since rejecting (or disappointing) a female is customarily punished. It is not uncommon for females to torture or even kill their male lovers on a whim.

Typical (female) drow pickup line is probably something similar to kla'ath ussa, jaluk ('serve me, male').

🔹 Drow can refer to their lovers as: xi'hum ('pet', 'plaything'), seriso ('lover'), m'ranndii ('mate'), also mrimm d'ssinss ('female lover') / mrann d'ssinss ('male lover').

Mrimm d'ssinss means literally 'inspiration of seduction / allure / charm'. Both mrimm d'ssinss and mrann d'ssinss are terms that may indicate some dose of admiration - they also sound quite intimately, like half-purrs, half-whispers.

🕷️ Lover Of A Noble Female - matron mother's chosen mate is called ilharn ('patron'), but she is free to take as many lovers as she wants to. A male lover who is not the patron of the House, but enjoys the matron's favors, is called parzdiamo ('male playmate'). A lover of a noble female with more or less established status can be called zil ('consort').

Being attached to a powerful female is often seen by drow males as a way to raise their social status - patrons (or favoured consorts) usually have rivals seeking to undermine their position.

Males born or adopted into noble houses, especially the most talented or promising ones, are treated in many ways like their matron mother's property. Matron mother has the right to decide which females can or cannot have them, and she may even "borrow" the most valuable males to females of other houses - in exchange for favors, information etc. Such males are sometimes "borrowed" for breeding purposes.

🕷️ Lover With Feelings - developing genuine feelings for your drow lover may be a very bad idea. Such a thing is not only dangerous (according to drow, all trust is foolish), but it is also seen as unbefitting a drow and forbidden - and can be punished with torture or even with death.

It applies especially to female-male relationships (the fact that Lolth really, really hates her ex-husband may have something to do with this aspect of Lolth-sworn drow culture).

Drow do fall in love, though - very rarely and mostly with other drow, since they tend to perceive non-drow as inferior. According to Drow of the Underdark, 3.5e: "the sudden urge to consider someone else's well-being is a strange and frightening experience [for a drow]. Many drow react violently to love, seeking to destroy the object of their affections before they are further "corrupted" by the odd sensations. Those who don’t become violent usually make every effort to either impress or dominate the object of their affections, depending on their relative social standing. (...) for even the most loving drow sees little difference between intimacy and possession."

🔹 Drow can refer to a loved one as 'che ('loved one' - or at least as close as a drow term can get to the meaning of this word) or 'chev ('beloved'), or even quor'vlosara ('soulmate').

🔹 Drow can also use terms of endearment like ussta ssinssrigg ('my love / longing / passion' - ssinssrigg traditionally means all these things, also 'greed' and 'lust'), or ussta alurlssrin ('my love' - alurlssrin means unselfish, deep love; it is a term introduced to drow language by Eilistraeans, so probably not widely known in the Underdark).

🔹 (From BG2) ussta mzilst ssin'urn ultrin ('my most handsome / beautiful conqueror') - words of a female drow who has fallen in love with a man from the surface.

In a Lolth-sworn drow society, lavishing your drow lover with sweet words and tender gestures is something that should be done only in private - being discovered can mean torture and / or death for one or both of you.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

#drow #lolth sworn drow #drow lore #dark elves #drow language #drow culture #dnd lore #dnd drow

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yelspyder · 2 years ago

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Hey! I was wondering if you could maybe do a Gwen x female (or gender neutral) reader’s first kiss? They’re not officially dating but they both have rather clear feelings for each other. Gwen maybe saves reader from a petty street crime and they share the iconic Spiderman kiss. The reader doesn’t blatantly know that Gwen is Spiderwoman, but they have a gut feeling, as Gwen also has a gut feeling they may already know.

˚‧⁺.-"Kiss me again - he says, drunk and foolish - Kiss me until I am sick of it"

↳ summary: basically, spiderman iconic kiss with Gwen

↳ characters: Gwen Stacy

↳ Gn! Reader

↳ notes: I would with fem reader, but nothing in that work would make that fact explicit, so I titled it gn (which can also be seen as fem), hope you don't mind.

Gwen's heart fluttered when she saw you being mugged. No way was she going to let you get hurt. You were too important to her.

You were paralyzed. Being mugged in a desert street in the big city was not something you used to do, of course you would be scared. The gun was pointed at your face while the thug stared at you with a scary look while another man, presumably his henchman, looked you up and down with a smirk you thought could swallow you whole. And a third man watching the surroundings, ready to warn the others at any sign of the police. The man who had the gun pointed at you looked like some kind of bodyguard for some rich rapper who performs in bars every Friday: gold teeth, tattoos, piercings and such.

Gwen was having a snack until she saw you being mugged in a nearby deserted street. She didn't let herself think long before quickly stepping in and jumping next to the bandits. When she realized that she didn't even bother to put the mask on before jumping in front of you, it was too late to go back and get it, she would have to do it quickly so that no one saw her face.

She was grateful for the darkness of the street when got into a quick melee and threw the thugs away in a dumpster in front of a building, knocking them unconscious. Before you could even process it properly and go after her to thank her, she'd ducked into a nearby alley as quickly as she'd appeared to save you.

You wasted no time in following her, but were disappointed when you couldn't find her. A little frustrated, you turned to resume your walk home, to find the spiderwoman hanging upside down in front of you.

She cleared her throat before speaking in an unnaturally deep voice. "Are you all right, dear citizen?"

You jumped a little in surprise when you saw her before speaking. You really didn't expect her to come back to check on you after saving you. After recovering from the surprise, you started talking. "Uh...-? Of course, I'm fine thanks to you. We've been seeing each other a lot these past few days, you made a point of helping me just across the street this weekend. Do I have a superhero stalker?"

Unknown to you, Gwen smiled beneath her mask and replied in a confident tone. "I was in the neighborhood."

You smiled and took a moment to sigh and admire the figure hanging in front of you. "You're amazing."

"Some people don't think so." She just shook her head and spoke, again using her unnatural low voice.

You didn't say anything, just held your hands out until they hovered over the top of the mask around her neck. "...What?" She asked with a tone of doubt, but without making the slightest effort to stop you.

You withdrew your hands a little, until it took you a while to resume your action. You slowly extended your hands until they hovered over the top of her mask around her neck again upon seeing the, as yet unknown to you, blonde's non-existent attempts to stop you. Still slowly, you pulled your mask up to her nose, to see a strangely familiar gap between the teeth in the superheroine's half opened mouth, and rested your hands on her cheeks.

Without much delay, you kissed her.

She felt herself magically melting into your kiss. Her heart was beating too fast, and her cheeks were burning. At this point, she was thanking whatever god there was that part of her cheeks was still covered, so you wouldn't see the blushing mess you made of her. If the kiss wasn't enough, she was now all too aware of your soft hands resting on her cheeks. She found herself having to resist the urge to relax against your touch right there. She felt in heaven, kissing her crush did wonders for her. The looks exchanged, and the laughter shared during the common lessons at school seemed a distant delusion in her mind now. All that mattered was that she was kissing her crush at this very moment.

The poor girl wanted this moment to last forever, but the need to breathe soon came and you had to part ways. As soon as you pulled away, she saw your breathless appearance and flushed cheeks, and smiled when you adjusted her mask correctly.

"So, my favorite citizen, wants me to walk you home?"

#across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #gwen stacy #atsv #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #gwen spiderverse #gwen stacy x reader #spider gwen #gwen x reader #atsv gwen #ghost spider #atsv miguel #atsv miles #atsv pavitr #atsv hobie #atsv headcanons #atsv peter b parker

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smilesatdawnmain · 2 months ago

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Rumble:

Rumble never has a lot to say, preferring to listen than make their thoughts know. However, you’ll never find someone more protective of their siblings.

Haoyu: Rumble looks up to Haoyu. As two people who struggle to communicate their words, he feels Haoyu understands him most. He learned most of his sign language from his eldest brother. Sometimes they even consider Haoyu as a third parent, as he has always taken care of all of them. Rumble is protective over his big brother, and is not a huge fan of anyone trying to approach him. Such as his girlfriend. Rumble often is grumpy and antisocial to Haoyu’s love interests, holding a higher and almost impossible to meet standard for who should be with his big brother. (Or all his siblings) Annoyingly, this latest attraction seems to be sticking, and Rumble finds he doesn’t dislike her as much as the others. Still, he wants his brother to live a good and happy life- a life he wants, as all can tell “being King” isn’t something Haoyu wants for himself. Haoyu also gives the best hugs

MK: Rumble doesn’t quite understand MK. He is very similar to Haoyu in what he takes on his own shoulders. Expectations and power, MK could easily be the strongest of them all. Yet, MK acts oblivious to this on a daily. Always playing dumb to lighten the mood or seem unaware of what is going on. Rumble doesn’t quite understand why MK acts foolish, when he is actually very clever. Still, his brother tends to be over protective, but Rumble couldn’t imagine a better person to rely on. A hero, in every meaning of the word. He values how much MK cares, but worries how far that care takes his Brother. How extreme it might make MK’s actions in order to protect them. But, in the mean time, Rumble values the creativity of his Brother. Many like to think MK as some Harbringer, but that isn’t MK’s purpose. MK is someone intended to create- to preserving the world and making it better. He’s a Hero

Xiaohua: Xiaohua has so much creativity in his body. He insists that is more of MK’s role, but he makes such beautiful music. Rumble always rushes to him the moment he gets inspiration for a new song. As someone who sometimes feels outshined by his brother, Rumble sometimes thinks Xiaohua feels the same. MK is looked at as the more powerful one, which is true in instances. Xiaohua seems content with not being viewed as the greater warrior or fighter- the “lesser” of the two twins, but Rumble sometimes worries that put this idea in Xiaohua’s head that he has less value. Of course, Xiaohua never says this, so it is hard to say for certain. He simply shows it in his actions sometimes. Still, Rumble thinks both MK and Xiaohua bring so much wonder to the world. Creativity and life. They are the sunlight twins, and Savage and him are the moonlight twins.

Sying : His elder sister, he admires her tenacity. She is a bit of a ditz to pranks, and still falls for them despite him trying to help her avoid them. He likes how open and honest she is to herself and those around her. She doesn’t hold back, which Rumble wishes he could do as well. He often helps design her fan and give it a new look every few months. She doesn’t really have the artistic flare some of their other siblings have, but she certainly has a flare in other departments. She is a good person, if not eccentric. He worries some horrid person will take advantage of her naivety when it comes to romance. He is that way with any of his siblings, but her especially. She wears he heart and thoughts on her sleeves, so it isn’t hard to see how others might be tempted to take advantage of that. When he first came out that he was transgender to his family, he was worried how all of them would react. Sying however, he didn’t have to. Not because she was overly accepting…. She looked at him and said “Weren’t you always a boy…?” This might be considered sweet, if he didn’t know that she truly meant it. His sister is a ditz… But he loves her dearly.

Savage: Rumble has never had to say what he feels for Savage to know what it is that he needs to say. Somehow his brother just seems to always know. At times Rumble has been frustrated by the language barrier between himself and others, but Savage has always been there to fill the space. They are two sides of the same coin. The missing part of the other. While one is loud, the other is quiet. While one is reckless the other is cautious. When Rumble was unsure of their Gender identity, or worried to make it clear what he felt, Savage already knew. Already referred to Rumble as “He” long before Rumble even felt confident to consider the thought. Rumble’s best friend and favorite sibling. Sometimes he is often overshadowed by his Brother- but he doesn’t mind. The spotlight was never something he wanted.

Xue: Ambition is a word that can be used for many of his siblings, but it best suits Xue. Being the second youngest, the world doesn’t look at her often, instead putting MK and Haoyu at the focus. Rumble feels this is a mistake the world will regret later. She looks to their Father’s crown with a glint in her eyes. If Haoyu does not become their Father’s proper heir- Rumble has a feeling he knows who will willingly aim for it. She uses her sweet and innocent face to her advantage. “To be underestimated is an advantage”, Xue told him when she was 6. She was a terrifying child. As a teen she is no better, just better at hiding her inner darkness. While Rumble is protective of anyone trying to “Make moves” on his siblings, he truly pities all who try with Xue. She is a ride they will never survive. He does enjoy speaking about plays with her though…

Bao: The baby of the family, Rumble doesn’t quite know how to communicate with Bao without being overly affectionate. He knows Bao doesn’t enjoy being treated like the baby… but Bal is, so it is hard not to. The kid is brave for one of their age. Rumble wonders if most of this”Bravery” comes from Bao just wanting to prove themself, and not necessary a typical trait. Forcing themself to face what they find terrifying so that the family won’t coddle them. Still, Bal learns fast and is eager to learn from them all. Given some time, they’ll become stronger than Rumble feels himself to be, he is certain. They often talk about music together too. Bao has an amazing singing voice. Rumble can’t wait to hear what it sounds like when Bao’s voice comes of age- like an Angel. The world isn’t ready for whatever this kid is gonna bring, that must Rumble is certain of

Previous Sibling (Savage):

Next sibling (Xue)

#lego monkie kid #lmk #big family au #Qi Rumble #shadowpeach #shadowpeach kids

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just-some-trans-nobody · 2 years ago

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Yautja X Reader who has stretch marks

I believe someone else has written this prompt before but I've only seen one other before so I wanted to make one too as I really loved what they wrote. Recently I've been working on accepting my stretch marks and learning to love them so I feel like writing this can help me and hopefully other people too.

Warnings: talks of stretch marks, body touching, possible mention of sexual acts, incorrect description of stretch marks

If you feel I missed a warnig please comment or dm me and I will immediately add it.

Minors don't interact this isn't the blog for you!

Contains: yautja absolutely loving their partners body, worshiping their partners body, being possesive space cats, samples of a male and yautja separately but if you want to imagine their both your mates absolutely go for it, no gender specified or in mind, mostly fluff

Written on a phone sorry if it looks odd if your on some other device

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Male Yautja

When he first sees your he does a double take. He thought were scars at first and wanted to know was beast caused them. This poor man was so confused when you explained to him that they weren't scars but in fact stretch marks. You might have to spend a lot of time explaining it to him before he somewaht understands it.

Once he does though he will ask to touch them, he will start to trace them with interest. They do look very cool to him. He had no idea oohman skin did that. It honestly freaks him out a little, at forst he thought it meant you were going to burst out of your own skin, he felt silly for thinking that but with enough kisses he'll get over the foolish thought though it does still linger in the back of his mind.

If you wear clothes to bed that show off your stretch marks my goodness is he purring up a storm as he gently traces them while cuddling you. The stretch marks are greatly soft compared to his scares and it's a texture he rather likes. His oohman is so soft he can't keep his paws off them.

If you ever pull out a body safe marker and start drawing on your stretch marks to accentuate them and he sees?? He is asking. No he is BEGGING to let him trace them for you. He has the most concentrated look on his face, he hasn't even focused this hard on a hunt than he is in this moment. So focused on tracing each little stretch mark. Oh boy if you put your hand on his head like he works it's purr city, he's vibrating like crazy he can hardly hold the marker still.

He is in heaven, if he had a phone it would be filled with pictures of you and your stretch marks. He's never seen anything as beautiful as your before. Your mate is torn though, he wants to show you off to everyone that he has the most amazing mate in the whole universe, but he also wants to keep you all to himself and be the only one who gets to see this amazing part of you. Which one your comfortable with is what he's doing, he never wants to make his little mate uncomfortable.

Will kiss each stretch mark of you let him, please let him he will die of joy of you do.

Female Yautja

Stretch marks? No those are life battle scars.

She knows what they are and stops you when you try to correct her. To her their gained only from living each day so in her mind their your beautiful scars gained from the great battle of life and she's so proud of you.

You could have gotten them from gaining weight, giving birth, working out, absolutely anything she loves each one.

If you have them on your hips or thighs and she sees you with no pants on, she's walking up behind and grabs your hips or thighs rubbing them lightly. She'll have a proid smile on her face as she admires her mate.

She will ask if she can rub oils into them, she has lots of diffrent oils and lotions she takes skin care very serious and wants you too as well. Actually she just wants to touch you but hey if she gets to rub oils into you that's just a bonus.

If anyone ever says something even slightly negative about you or your stretch marks their gone, no ones seeing them ever again. Poof. No one insults her mate. She's flair her mandibles angrily at them first bit later after you've gone to sleep she'll slip out to go deal with the trash.

No doubt if she lives with you she'll hide your clothes. If you have stretch marks on your legs you'll find all your pants suddenly missing, or your shirt if you have them on your shoulders or chest. She'll deny it at first before eventually giving you your clothes back. May or may not keep a shirt though so she can sniff it when she's away.

You have stretch marks on your inner thighs? She wants a closer look, you should totally wrap them around her head so she can get that close look please. May do grabby hands if she's feelimg needy about it. Your comfy and she loves holding you can you blame her for wanting to cuddle you after a hard day? No promises that she won't playfully nip at your thighs.

#monster #monster fucker #monster stories #yuatja #yautja #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja headcanon #yautja x human #yautja fluff #yautja male #yautja female #yautja slice of life #yautja stories #monster boyfriend #monster girlfriend

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moonselune · 4 months ago

Note

Hello 👋🏻😊

I'm the anon who requested the jealous Minthara scene after Wyll asked reader for a dance, and I must say, it was superb and absolutely brilliant *chef’s kiss* 😘

May I request a scene with Minthara and a female durge reader where Minthara gradually becomes cold and distant? Eventually she breaks up with the reader because the reader rejected Bhaal, a choice Minthara views as foolish because she believes that by doing so, the reader has become weak and unworthy to stand by her side as she returns to conquer the Underdark.

There’s no light at the end of the tunnel on this one. Though I would like to believe that Minthara will come to regret this eventually and try to make amends but it will be too late.

Ty!

OooOOoo so angsty oof - and thank you so much!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara x Durge | No More

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The relationship between you and Minthara had always been a tempestuous one—intense, passionate, but built on a foundation of shared ambition and a thirst for power. When you first met her, she was like a force of nature—fierce, unyielding, and driven by the same hunger for conquest that had once burned in you. Together, you made a formidable pair, each feeding off the other’s strength as you cut through enemies and forged your path through blood and darkness. But everything began to change after you made a choice that would alter the course of your fate forever: rejecting Bhaal.

Minthara had been quiet when you first made your decision, her amber eyes unreadable as she listened to you explain why you could no longer follow the god of murder. You had chosen to turn away from the dark path that had been laid out before you, seeking redemption, or perhaps simply a different kind of power—one not rooted in endless bloodshed. You knew Minthara wouldn’t approve, but you hoped she would understand. After all, wasn’t your strength still there? Wasn’t your love for her unwavering, despite the shift in your allegiance?

At first, nothing seemed to change between you. She didn’t voice her displeasure, and while her gaze had grown more critical, she remained by your side. But as the days wore on, you started to feel the subtle distance creeping in between you two. Minthara no longer sought you out in battle as she once had; her praises, once sharp and filled with admiration, became few and far between. She stopped lingering beside you after skirmishes, her touch no longer seeking yours in the quiet moments when the world fell still.

It was the nights that hurt the most. Where once she would slip into your tent, her body pressed close to yours as the fires of both combat and passion cooled, now she slept alone, claiming it was for focus, to keep her mind sharp for the battles ahead. At first, you accepted it, telling yourself that this was just a phase, that her coldness was temporary, a reflection of her own internal conflict.

But the distance only grew.

Her once fierce gaze, which had always burned with intensity when it fell upon you, now barely glanced your way. You felt like a shadow in her presence, a reminder of a choice she viewed as weakness. Conversations became brief and impersonal. Her once-commanding voice, so vibrant in your ear, became clipped, laced with disappointment she didn’t bother to hide. When you tried to reach out, to ask her what was wrong, she would merely shrug, deflecting your concerns with vague words about focusing on the future, on her mission.

You knew it was coming—the final blow—but nothing could have prepared you for the moment it finally landed.

The two of you stood in the shadows of your camp, the campfire’s flickering light casting long, wavering shadows across her face. She looked regal, even in her silence, a picture of strength and cold beauty as she stared at you with those piercing amber eyes. But where once you had felt a fire of affection there, now you felt only ice.

“I cannot continue this,” Minthara said, her voice sharp and emotionless, like the crack of a whip. "You are not who I thought you were."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. "Minthara… what are you saying?"

She met your gaze then, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret behind her cold exterior, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the hard mask of a warrior—of a conqueror.

“You rejected Bhaal,” she said, her tone almost accusing. “You turned your back on the very power that gave you strength, the power that made you worthy of standing beside me.”

“I turned my back on endless slaughter,” you countered, your voice barely concealing the hurt. “I chose a different path, one that didn’t involve mindless murder, Minthara. That doesn’t make me weak.”

She shook her head, her expression unyielding. “It does. You had the chance to embrace power, to ascend beyond your limits, and you turned away from it. You’ve made yourself soft, weak… unworthy.”

Her words cut deep, but you couldn’t let her see how much they hurt. You straightened your back, meeting her gaze with defiance. "So that's it then? Because I didn’t give in to Bhaal’s madness, you’re just going to walk away? After everything we’ve been through?"

Minthara’s face remained impassive, her arms crossed over her chest. “You were once someone I could rely on, someone I could see standing beside me as I conquered the Underdark. But you are no longer that person. You’ve chosen a path of mercy, and that is a path I will not follow. I need strength at my side, not weakness.”

For a moment, the air between you was thick with tension, neither of you speaking. You could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you, suffocating the love you had once shared, choking the bond that had once been so strong. There was no more passion in her eyes, no more admiration. All you saw was cold, ruthless judgment.

“If you cannot stand with me,” she said, her voice final, “then you will not stand with me at all.”

With that, she turned away, leaving you standing alone, the firelight casting long shadows over your figure. You stood there, frozen, the weight of her rejection sinking in.

For days after, the emptiness gnawed at you. The love you had shared, the passion, all of it felt like a cruel dream, one that had slipped through your fingers the moment you had chosen to turn away from Bhaal. But as time passed, the ache began to dull. You found strength in the path you had chosen, in the choices you had made. You surrounded yourself with new allies, rebuilt your purpose, and thrived without her.

And though you would sometimes think back to Minthara, to the sharpness of her words, the coldness in her eyes, you came to realize that you didn’t need her to define your strength. You had chosen a different kind of power—one that didn’t rely on the brutal, merciless ideals that she held so dear. You found peace in your decision, and as the years went on, you thrived, free from the shadows of your past.

Rumors reached your ears eventually, whispers of Minthara’s victories in the Underdark, of her conquest and her rise to power. But those rumors were always tinged with something darker—a loneliness that clung to her, a coldness that had only grown in your absence. You imagined, sometimes, that she regretted what she had done, that she had come to realize that power wasn’t everything, that she had thrown away something precious.

But by then, it was too late.

You had moved on. Thriving, stronger than ever, without her.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Silly minthy, hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

Text

The Making of Ellie - Part V: Happy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I've crawled out of my depression hole to give you the last epilogue-esque part of The Making of Ellie. Watch me disappear again now.

Summary: Joel's thoughts surrounding fatherhood and newborn Ellie.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, thoughts of fatherhood, mention of Sarah’s mother, breastfeeding

Word count: 1.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Happy

Ellie is the tiniest baby Joel has ever seen and with the loudest voice, Joel has ever heard. She seems to sport her mother’s temper from the moment that she is born, and he knows from the get-go that she will have Sarah’s ability to persuade him to do anything just by merely existing. She fits in both of his palms which is unfathomable even if he knows that he has big hands, fits on top of your belly too, her previous home, if she’s curled into a little ball, and you call him a goof whenever he utters ‘Bellie’ under his breath whilst admiring her sleeping on you. The first time he had said it, your soft laugh had made Ellie cry again yet not as fiercely, and Joel had argued that she liked the nickname.

“We need to monitor her heart rate,” a nurse had said after the first few hours that the two of you had had Ellie alone. Joel was reluctant to hand her over at first, but when he got her back into his arms, her sporting a little blue monitor around her ankle, that same nurse had made him flush when she praised him for evening out her rapid pulse by doing skin-to-skin contact.

It’s pretty much all he does now; holds her tiny body in his hands with his shirt off so he can feel his daughter properly, connect with her as you get much-needed rest in between feedings.

He has also proclaimed that he can tell the difference between Ellie’s cries. You say that ‘it’s been two days’, but he is certain and confident in his abilities. This isn’t his first time at the rodeo. Ellie’s cries have different pitches when she’s in his or your arms compared to when she’s getting picked up by the nurses. He has to stop himself from interfering with their work, mostly by your request, but he still hovers around the hospital staff whenever they are in your room.

“She’s too tiny, we need to keep an eye on her weight,” they say. By instinct, he wants to say that she is perfect just the way she is. She’ll get there. She’s strong. He can tell.

“Silly man,” you say into a kiss when you notice his pacing as nurses bathe or weigh her, and Joel is absolutely fine with being just that. A silly, foolish man with a desperate need to look out for his three girls despite no danger lurking around the corner. But then again? Isn’t being a parent equal to living in fear of losing said child? Ellie has only been in the real world for two days, and he would burn the world down to the ground if it meant that she would be safer.

Joel knows that he has been here before. Sarah, albeit not as tiny, made him feel the exact same things that he is going through right now but still, there’s a part of him that has forgotten just how nerve-wracking having an infant is and just how much it fucks with the perception of everything. Whilst being terrified, he loves Ellie so intensely that it makes his head swim and he looks at you nervously as you announce that you can go home soon. He doesn’t get how you can say it and be so calm.

You go home a week after Ellie is born, with a pink little hat on her head that is still a bit too large for her despite it being the smallest size they had. He drives the car under the speed limit. He checks the roads several times before turning.

Sarah and Tommy wait for you in the kitchen, coming to greet you at the front door, and Joel does the pat-on-the-back hug with his brother who immediately fusses over Ellie as much as himself. He mentions that he and Maria might have one too, and makes a joke about Joel beating him to fatherhood once again.

“She’s tiny,” he also says as Ellie cries, rocking her in his arms whilst Sarah runs a hand over her baby sister’s head. She has removed the hat after claiming that it’s falling into Ellie’s eyes, and whereas Joel would have protested the act in the hospital, he finds that he absolutely trusts his oldest daughter.

“Don’t say that,” she chimes in, and then like she has read his mind despite them being apart for a week, “She’s perfect.”

Joel catches your eye across the room at that. You look at him with the gentlest smile, and despite all his efforts to appear as the strong protector for a whole week in the hospital with you and his newborn baby, he feels the facade crumbling and it allows him to feel safe, happy and relaxed. He cries then, excuses himself to breathe in the crisp air outside in the place where he realized his love for you a few years back.

Later, when the house empties - Tommy leaving with the excuse of letting you be a family of four - and everyone goes to bed, he settles into a new routine with you.

He assembled the bassinet a few weeks ago, and he holds you as the two of you stare down at the tiny life that you’ve made together. Ellie sleeps with her arms above her head and kicks her legs when she wakes up crying in the middle of the night.

He tells you that he’ll get her, lays her against his naked chest until she simply coos instead of screaming, “That’s it, baby girl. No need to use that tone with your father. No monsters here, Bellie.”

When she starts moving her hand to her mouth, smacking her lips, and looking around, he rubs your back and tells you that Ellie is hungry, “Lookin’ for ya.”

You sit up in bed, barely awake as you nurse his daughter back to sleep. He admires the scene and knows how lucky he is; in his 40s and experiencing the greatest gift of life that he’ll ever receive once more. He gets sentimental about it too, thinking of the intimacy of seeing Ellie getting fed by her mother when he never got to with Sarah’s. It wasn’t good with the chemo that never saved her.

Joel has never been able to pinpoint what had shifted the moment that he had let you into his life but with the comfort of knowing that Sarah is sleeping soundly in her own room, and by listening to the soft noises of you and Ellie sleeping occupying the room that had been so used to the sound of nothing, he knows that before, he had been satisfied but now, he is happy.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou fic #my writing #joel the last of us #dilf!joel

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serene-faerie · 6 months ago

Text

It wasn't the news of Finrod's death that turned Celebrimbor against his father, his uncle, and the rest of the House of Fëanor.

It wasn't his own unease when Celegorm and Curufin turned the entirety of Nargothrond against Finrod (though it certainly planted the seeds of doubt in his mind).

It wasn't even the moment when Celegorm shamelessly usurped Orodreth from the throne of Nargothrond.

Rather, it was when Lúthien Tinúviel was brought to Nargothrond as a prisoner of his father and uncle.

Celebrimbor was astounded to hear of his uncle’s intention to force Lúthien into a marriage with him. He was even more appalled when he heard of how they planned to force the King of Doriath into an alliance.

He tries to show kindness to Lúthien, out of compassion and out of need to keep Celegorm away from her. She is very beautiful, yes- but Celebrimbor knows that Lúthien's heart belongs to Beren of the House of Bëor. Rather, he admires her courage in leaving the safety of Doriath to save Beren from Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

Celebrimbor becomes Lúthien's only friend in Nargothrond- the only bright spot during her captivity. He does not scheme, he does not backstab, and he doesn't disrespect Thingol to Lúthien's face. He treats her with respect and kindness, and he makes sure to keep Lúthien company as much as he can, so that he can keep Celegorm away from Lúthien as much as possible.

But one day, Curufin all but forces Celebrimbor to keep busy in the forge so that Celegorm can try seducing Lúthien. But Lúthien has had enough, and she lashes out at Celegorm, threatening to tear out his throat if he dared to lay a hand on her. Celebrimbor is disgusted to learn that his own father had kept him away from protecting Lúthien, and he decides that enough is enough. He’s not going to stand by and watch her get hurt— and he’s not sure he wants to see Lúthien make good on her threat of tearing Celegorm’s throat out. She is half-Maia, after all, and he fears that if she gets angry enough, she will unleash her wrath, which would bring a whole slew of chaos upon Nargothrond and Doriath.

That night, Celebrimbor and Huan plot to free Lúthien. While Huan is helping Lúthien escape from her chambers, Celebrimbor keeps his father and uncle distracted and busy so that they don’t notice Lúthien’s escape.

Later, when the news of Finrod’s death reaches Nargothrond, and Celegorm and Curufin are banished, Celebrimbor confesses that he helped Lúthien escape.

Of course, Celegorm and Curufin are furious.

“How could you betray us like that?!” Curufin demands, outraged.

“First you choose the Doriath wench, now you choose Nargothrond over your own kin?!” Celegorm shouts angrily.

But Celebrimbor is unfazed.

“I didn’t betray you. I actually saved your lives,” he tells them. “Lúthien is a good woman, and you’re both foolish if you think she would throw away her love for the Son of Barahir in favor of marrying Tyelkormo.”

And to the very end of his life, Celebrimbor will never regret helping Lúthien escape from captivity.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion #silm headcanons #beren and luthien #lay of leithian #celebrimbor #tyelpë #tyelperinquar #celegorm #tyelkormo #curufin #atarinke #luthien #luthien tinuviel #huan #jrr tolkien #tolkien #tolkien tag

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starlessea2 · 7 months ago

Text

Wild-flower [Astarion]

Chapter 3 - Cut And Run

Summary: The first time Astarion saw her, she'd been drunk and starry-eyed. The next, sober enough not to trust him. A/N We finally see Astarion's POV, and boy is it fun to write... Masterlist

Astarion unfurls his bedroll furthest away from the fire. He doesn’t trust those people. Not yet—probably not ever.

But he understands they are bound by whatever unfortunate circumstances they’ve found themselves in, and Astarion’s not foolish enough to think he’s better off without allies. So he plays his part perfectly; he’s charming, witty, co-operative, even.

But on the inside, he’s shaken.

When he first came to, on that patch of grass near the beach, he was sure he would burst into flames at any given moment. But he didn’t. Oddly enough, the sun didn’t scorch his skin. Neither did the tide sting him; it only made shoes soggy.

Two hundred years of vampirism reduced to naught thanks to the houseguest swimming about in his brain. He’s almost thankful.

That is, until a bunch of misfits decide to sneak up on him.

Before he knows it, he’s got one pinned to the ground, and her voice is ringing in his head. All at once, he’s seeing into the deepest corners of her mind; he hears her fear, surprise, and then, her relief. And of course, it’s the bloody wood elf.

She looks as flushed as she did in Fraygo’s Flophouse—even with his knife at her throat—and for the first time since opening his eyes, Astarion is reminded that he cannot escape the past.

It’s an awkward reunion. He barely recalls her name before she reminds him. But they’re a united front for the time being, and Astarion knows he can use that to his advantage.

So he sticks close. They rescue the gith without bloodshed, much to his dismay, and their rag-tag group of weirdos becomes weirder still. It’s not until the sun starts to set that the realisation sinks in: this is his life now.

By the time they make camp, Astarion is tired, hungry and irritable. None of which he shows. Instead he sits quietly and observes his surroundings.

He makes note of Shadowheart, tinkering away at that strange artefact. He watches Lae’zel sharpen her sword (probably to take the cleric’s head with it later), and even spares a glance for Gale, who is thumbing through the tome he ransacked from a dead man’s crypt.

Then there’s Jessamine.

He catches her trying to look busy—trying to avoid his eye. It’s almost sad how out of place she appears as she smoothes out her bedroll. He’s certain she’s never used one in her life. But still, she puts on a show of fiddling with it, and once she’s done, she finally lets herself saunter over.

Astarion’s grins. “What a surprise,” he remarks, “if I didn’t know better, my dear, I’d say I had a stalker.”

Her expression is blank. “May I sit?” she asks.

He gestures to the empty spot beside him. She’s a different person from the Flophouse, he thinks. Far less giddy; far less wine.

Jessamine perches on a nearby log, allowing plenty of space between them. At closer inspection, Astarion sees that her wheat-coloured hair has been braided with an array of decorative charms. A wood elf tradition, perhaps. It’s delicate—intricate even. But her skin and clothes are both caked with filth, and if it wasn’t for that face of hers, no one would question her status as a beggar.

“So, did you have something to say or did you just come to admire me?” he asks her.

A small laugh follows. “And which would you prefer?”

The lightness of her voices catches Astarion off guard. It’s the first hint of personality she’d shown him all day (not that he’d been waiting for it).

Around the others, she’d acted so well-adjusted. Nothing but smiles and well-timed quips. But only Astarion had noticed how she’d skulked off into the woods at the first opportunity. And he certainly didn’t miss her red-ringed eyes and snotty nose when she returned to camp. It was equally pitiful as it was disgusting.

“Astarion,” Jessamine says, and for a second he worries his thoughts have leaked out. “I came to apologise. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot today.”

Astarion’s about to applaud her sarcasm when he realises she’s being serious. He looks at her incredulously. Surely she remembers that he was the one to nearly slit her throat?

“Before, at the Flophouse… I admit I’m not much of a drinker.” She pauses. Astarion tries to act as though that’s some sort of revelation. It’s not, obviously; he’d heard her slurring long before he made his move. “I’m embarrassed you saw me like that, but I shouldn’t have treated you coldly because of it. I’m glad you’re here.”

Astarion bites back a scowl; her sincerity irks him. He’s about to respond when Jessamine’s eyes suddenly grow wide, and words pour out of her mouth faster than she can think them. “Not that I’m glad you were abducted by mindflayers and have a parasite swimming around in your skull—gods no, of course I didn’t mean it like that—”

Watching her is painful, Astarion thinks. He's sure he’s aged a decade. She carries herself with such elegance, but it’s all for naught when she opens her mouth.

“—I’m just relieved to see a familiar face. No matter how new.”

And by the gods, she’s finally finished.

Satisfied with her answer, Jessamine nods to herself before turning to face him. There’s a smile on her lips. It’s young—pure.

That stupid girl.

“The feeling’s mutual, my dear. And I must say, a face as sweet as yours is truly something.”

Jessamine either doesn’t hear him, or pretends she doesn’t. “Tell me,” she says, “how does a magistrate come to end up in Farygo’s Flophouse, anyway? From what I could tell, it’s hardly a den for polite society.”

Astarion hums. A million different answers run through his mind—each as well-prepared as the next. But for some reason, he chooses a new one. “It’s a secret.”

“I’m good with secrets.”

She's giving Astarion an opportunity, but he senses no expectation in her voice. So he offers her a small smile but does not speak more.

In the space between them, the campfire he’d lit for himself is about to die out. Jessamine notices, and reignites it with an ignis. As it flickers back to life, Astarion is reminded of their earlier escapades at the crypt.

She’d used fire then too. A few half-hearted spells cast at their undead foe, but nothing compared to the flashy ones the wizard of Waterdeep used.

Still, she’d be valuable elsewhere, Astarion was sure. She was a pretty little thing (a faculty she ought to make use of before she spouts tentacles), and the way she’d bartered for the gith showed the persuasiveness of a bard.

Even now, Astarion isn’t fully convinced that magic is her calling.

Jessamine stands. After stoking the fire once more, she mutters something about turning in for the night. She was exhausted; it doesn't take having a tadpole to notice. When Lae’zel declared she’d take first watch, Jessamine didn’t fight it (none of them did).

If he had to guess, she’s just dying to trance.

“I just remembered something,” Astarion says, before she can return to her bedroll. “A certain show I was invited to but never did get to attend.”

Jessamine stills. Recognition crosses her face.

“You know, I really do hate missing out.”

A blush tints her cheeks, but she doesn't humour it. “Goodnight, Astarion,” she says.

He tutts. Her words are decisive as she walks away, chilly in comparisson to the firelight. But there's hesitation in her step—like she doesn't really want to leave.

As Astarion watches her retreat to the other side of camp, he is greeted by a sense of satisfaction.

He is going to win her so, so easily.

─────

Astarion can read people like a book.

From a glance, he could tell what they wanted from him: his words, his body, his heart. And he always let them have it, or think they had it, at least.

It’s how he’d gotten Shadowheart to tolerate him, despite their first meeting, and Gale to loan him some interesting reading material. Jessamine he already had wrapped around his finger, and Lae’zel—well, she was in a category of her own. The point being, Astarion was strategic, and he’d spent the last day and a half moving his pieces to the best possible spots…

And where had it gotten him?

Staring down a bloody goblin horde.

Across their mental connection, his companions decide whether to intervene in the scuffle. The gith is eager for bloodshed, whilst Gale has a penchant for heroics. Shadowheart can be swayed either way, but it seems Jessamine has already made her mind up.

In the corner of his eye, Astarion catches sight of her. She shifts her weight between her feet, eyes darting, blood pumping so strong he can see it swell beneath her skin. She’s bracing herself, he realises. Like she even has a chance.

The thought irritates him.

As they stand before the gates to the grove, the goblins, and the flailing dimwits who led them there, Astarion can see it now: all his efforts to seduce this so-called-sorceress about to implode spectacularly as she decides to play hero.

Mentally, he weighs up his options. How much value does he put on their alliance—on her aptitude at persuasion? It’s a millisecond later that he comes to the conclusion.

She’s not worth the trouble.

So Astarion prepares some words of encouragement. If he’s lucky, her valiant sacrifice might buy him enough time to skulk away unnoticed.

But when he turns to her, she’s gone.

“Shadowheart—” she calls out from below, right in the midst of it all, “do it now!”

Astarion has no clue what’s happening. But it seems the cleric does. She reacts immediately, and not a moment later, the ground is soaked with rain.

“Perurē,” Jessamine chants. Lightning sparks at her feet and half the goblins go down. In an instant she loots a dagger from one on the ground before slicing at another, unfortunate-enough to still be standing.

Lae’zel joins her in the fray. Their movements are on opposite ends of a spectrum. The gith is a force, and Jessamine, a dance. She’s nimble; there’s hardly any power to her slashes but they’re left-field enough to catch her enemies off guard. Astarion has to give it to her, whilst goblins aren't known for their intelligence, not many would expect a magic-user to come so close.

He certainly wouldn't.

And the way she fights... Astarion doesn’t know how to describe it. There's no hesitation in her movements. No intent, either. He watches as she careens to the side to avoid an attack, before sending the offender flying with a thunderwave. It's decisive—like part of a sequence she already knows.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart seethes.

Hearing his name, Astarion realises he hasn’t moved a muscle since it all began. In his defence, he hadn’t planned on staying this long.

Feeling the cleric's gaze bear into him, he steels himself. Since most of the heavy lifting had already been done, he might as well deal the finishing blow. He nocks his first arrow.

Between them, it's light work. Astarion is diligent in picking goblins off with his bow. They don't notice him, and that's how he prefers it. Lae’zel’s brutish strength is admirable, Jessamine’s gall, laughable, and Gale contributes. Somehow.

Behind them, Shadowheart stands by to tend to any bruises and scratches.

He dares say, it's almost easy.

What Astarion doesn’t foresee is the Blade of Frontiers making gallant, last-minute appearance to soak up the glory. Nor that his parasite would recognises another within him.

Astarion isn't given time to comprehend what, exactly, that means. Everything happens so fast. In the wake of their victory, a tiefling stationed above the gate waves his arms at them. “Don't just stand there,” he yells, “get inside before any more can show up!”

They listen to him for the time being.

Ushered through the gate, Astarion rejoins his companions. Jessamine's got a few scrapes, but nothing a low-level spell can't fix. Lae'zel is decorated with guts, and the scent clinging to her is dizzying. To his disgust, Astarion finds himself salivating over a mixture of goblin and idiot blood.

He needs to feed soon.

That boar has scarcely satiated him, and being around death so often definitely wasn't ideal for his sanguine hunger. He'll leave camp tonight, he decides. There ought to be something out there for him to sink his teeth into.

That is, if those within the camp don't temp him first.

He puts the thought away from him.

Once safely behind the grove's gates, the Blade of Frontiers wastes no time coming to greet them. Closer now, Astarion feels it instantly; that incessant squirming behind his eye.

Keep quiet for now, the Blade's tadpole speaks to theirs. Then he follows up with a knowing look that could be easily misconstrued as a warning.

“I have to say, those were some moves out there,” praises the Blade—or Wyll, as he prefers.

Gale sputters. “Yes, and for the sake of our wellbeing, they're ones we're not looking to repeat anytime soon.”

Beside him, the gith shakes her head. When she picks at his robe, it's pristine compared to her bloodied armour. “Chk. You did far too little to take credit, wizard.”

Gale falls silent. There's no disputing it; he had been on the backburner during that fight.

Astarion's about to contribute to the verbal thrashing when Wyll intervenes. “My friends, let's save our slights for our foes beyond the gate.”

No one responds to the chiding, but Wyll shucks out another batch of compliments nonetheless. Astarion's not naive enough to think they're for him; anyone can see they're being spoken for the wood elf's benefit.

He’s giving her a look all men know how to give, and Jessamine's either oblivious to it or desensitised enough not to care. “I'm looking for Halsin,” she says, her voice intentionally reaching beyond their conversation.

It's a name she's never uttered before now, but one many in the crowd respond to. A man they'd rescued from the horde shifts in place, before being pulled aside for questioning by the same teifling who brought them here.

Astarion makes no effort to eavesdrop. Whatever politics existed in this overgrown hovel, he couldn't care less. He instead directs his attentions to this new place: the people, their valuables (or lack thereof). Aside from the druid, he doubts there's anything worthwhile here.

He makes that clear, of course. But Jessamine’s already got her sights set on all those wretched refugees. The next thing he knows, they’re being showboated around on a pity tour of their piss-poor grove.

And Astarion wishes he had just cut and run.

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #astarion #bg3 #astarion acunin #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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sepublic · 2 years ago

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No but the way Pucci being Christian is so intertwined with his motives as a villain... He’s every story I’ve heard of the Christian convert who suffered something horrible and senseless, and after drifting through life lost and without a sense of purpose, found hope by believing in God. He’s so many stories of tragedy I’ve seen where people managed to cope by finding peace in the idea that this is all part of God’s divine, incomprehensible plan; It’s fate, it’s his will, and by accepting it they can move on. It’s for a reason, even if they’ll never understand what they’re looking at.

That’s what Heaven is for Pucci; His core trauma is a series of horrific coincidences with no rhyme or reason, and so he latches onto the idea that it’s all part of “his” plan, God and/or DIO’s. That’s why he finds comfort in knowing the future, knowing it’s all in the hands of Fate and removing his own blame and agency, which is why the narrator asks the viewer to judge for ourselves who did wrong, when we see the backstory of Wes, Enrico, and Perla. Pucci made a decision and it backfired horribly, so he doesn’t want to choose anymore.

It’s the way Pucci’s desire to be the messianic hero screws him over and causes tragedy; He’s so devoted to his position as a priest that rather than sabotaging it in order to just tell Perla the truth to her face (thus breaking the rules of the confessional), Pucci relies on this roundabout method so he can have it both ways, only to cause heartbreak and death. Pucci is so desperate to save humanity to make up for his own guilt and failure that he resets the universe, making him the worst kind of evil in his brother’s eyes; One totally oblivious to its nature. Pucci begs to die a martyr from Weather Report and Emporio, rather than just dying here and now.

Ungalo and Rikiel are prepared to die for Pucci once he gives them a sense of purpose to all of the inexplicable misfortune in their lives; Versus is also emboldened by this realization, but chooses to weaponize it for himself. The sons of DIO are people who all went through misfortune their whole lives, they’re ‘children of God’ who find comfort in devoting themselves to something they can actually believe in, that they believe will take care of them in some way; Like many Christians following the path of God, believing Heaven is waiting for them at the end of the tribulation and that it will all be worth it, that it all meant something and mattered and served a cause, like them.

Pucci and the sons of DIO can no longer bear the pain and uncertainty of moving forward, so they aspire, Pucci especially, for a world where fate will move things along for them. They don’t have to take the first step, especially not Pucci, when Made in Heaven’s reset will compel him and everyone else to do what’s fated, regardless of what they try.

Pucci fears and admires the courage of the Joestars who are able to step forward and face fate, engage and grapple with it, rather than just blindly accept and surrender in despair. If Diavolo precedes Pucci as someone too resistant of fate, Pucci is the opposite; Someone too resigned to it. Unlike the Joestars who know their fate but can work with what’s written in stone to change the other details.

It’s why Pucci admires the first human to try a mushroom despite knowing it could kill them; But rather than put in the effort to get up to their level, Pucci would rather everyone stoop to his own, and claims he’s just sparing people noble yet needless pain (He’s only sparing himself by avoiding the reminder that he could and should be braver than this). He says he pities the human who tried a mushroom, adding that they were probably only motivated by hunger and desperation, and had no choice anyway.

I think Pucci is secretly envious of that courage, and that’s why he always downplays it afterwards by suggesting it’s foolishness rather than bravery. Pride, Envy, Wrath... Sloth given his despair, and a bit of Greed with the $800 dollar pants. Then there’s the BDSM vibes of Whitesnake for Lust, all that’s missing is Gluttony, which I guess the cherries and being devoured by the Green Baby account for...?

In all seriousness, Pucci wants guidance; He surrenders himself to God, follows the instructions led by DIO, and relies on Fate to tell him what to do when Made in Heaven resets the universe. Remember that time Pucci got around his brother’s Heavy Weather by removing his sight, and forcing Anasui to guide him? Yeah.

There’s a reason why Whitesnake obsesses with preserving the past, and I think part of it boils down to Pucci being afraid of its counterpart the Future; Which Made in Heaven, not entirely unlike King Crimson, allows Pucci to speed through and glimpse, to get through the worst of it ASAP and lessen the pain. He doesn’t want to accept that sometimes things just… happen.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #enrico pucci #stone ocean #character analysis #meta

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