#which makes her both admirable and foolish

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[geekgirles]

Even though we all saw it coming from a mile away, I really do think Vaggie being a fallen angel is the best direction for her character and the one that best explains it.

First of all, it explains how one of the most decent demons in Hell after Charlie would even be there in the first place. Because she never belonged there.

Then we have an immediate explanation for her hinted military background back in Scrambled Eggs. Of course she was a warrior, she went out to massacre demons each year!

It also sheds her attempts to protect Charlie in a more meaningful light. Because let's face it, admirable as it is, a mere sinner, and not even an Overlord, acting like the Princess of Hell's loyal guard dog and facing off against threats like Alastor seems extremely foolish; if she were a mere demon, she would definitely be biting more than she can chew. But she is not a demon, she's an angel, an exorcist; a species that isn't just far more powerful than demons, but that can even kill Overlords. And even if she lost her wings, given Lucifer's angelic nature is the reason he got to rule Hell in the first place, then clearly, Vaggie still is more powerful than most demons.

And finally, it explains her stance on Charlie's plan; that unyielding support coated in rightful doubt. On the one hand, her devotion comes from the fact that Charlie, Lucifer's daughter and a demon, showed her more compassion and care than her fellow angels, the supposed personification of everything good and perfect. Not only has she seen first hand how not all demons are that bad or deserving of death, but she stands out as the only angel so far to feel any mercy for them even before being exiled.

And what did that get her? Exactly. Exiled from Heaven and with both her eye and wings amputated. Again, Vaggie knows first hand how truly vile Heaven is. How, when it comes to demons, everything is a mistake that must be rectified through the most violent means possible. If Heaven, which is supposed to reward virtue, punished Vaggie, one of their own, for displaying a virtuous behaviour towards a demon, what chance do actual sinners have to ever be redeemed in their eyes and hence accepted in Heaven?

I guess this all comes to show how that just because a development is obvious, it doesn't make it any less good or fitting.

[alexiapp]

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

[lqveharrington]

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.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[lunastrophe]

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 🕷️

[yelspyder]

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?"

[adhd-mess]

Okay, so I’ve seen people coming up with scenarios abt if Solas and Varric were stuck in the Fade together and now I’m imagining if Alistair and Solas were locked in the Fade together.

I wrote at 2 am so if it’s out of character that’s why

Alistair: “Sooo you’re an elven god?”

Solas: *sighs* “Yes.”

Alistair: “Huh.” Contemplative silence. “Can’t you just use your godly powers to zap us back out—uhm respectfully, your….godliness?”

Solas: “Unfortunately I cannot.”

Alistair: “Oh.”

A pause.

Solas: “Do not refer to me as that.”

Alistair. “As what…oh. Well then what shall I refer to you as?”

Solas: “Solas. Just Solas.”

Alistair: “Feels wrong to refer to….I’ll shut up.”

More silence.

Alistair: “So, if I may ask?”

Solas: “Why ask when you’re going to ask it anyway.”

Alistair: *a nervous laugh* “Which god are you? Of the elven pantheon I mean. I know you’re not Mythal.”

Solas: “Fen’harel.”

Alistair. “Ohh. The-the dreadwolf? Right. Riiiight.” Muttering, “of course I’m locked away with the dreadwolf.”

Solas: “You seem well versed in the elven gods for a human.”

Alistair: “Well, if we’re sharing histories, my mother was an elf and I had the fortunate experience of meeting a few elves.” A pause. “Though I don’t know if I’d say I had the fortune of meeting one of them. Take my advice, an assassination attempt is a bad first impression.”

Solas: *a dry chuckle*

If Alistair and Solas are both romanced by the player:

Alistair: “If I don’t die here I’m so going to be dead when I—we get out.” A soft melancholic smile. “I can hear their chiding through the Fade.”

Solas: “You are speaking of your so called Hero of Ferelden, I presume?”

Alistair: “Yes.”

Solas: “I was not aware Wardens had kin; does it not go against your oath?”

Alistair: “Foolish, we were. So incredibly foolish.”

Solas: “I would not doubt it. I’d say say your still foolish; it’s the nature of your kind.”

Alistair: “Yeah yeah. Yknow you sound so much like an old…friend of mine.

Alistair bitterly: “I guess I answered her question.”

Alistair: *scoffs*

Alistair: “Why did I allow myself to get close to them and them to me? Young and childish thinking we could be the exception. I knew how it’d end. How it ends for every Grey Warden. And now their alone. Because of me.”

Alistair: “Uhhh sorry, didn’t mean to diatribe.”

More contemplative silence.

Solas: “Your foolishness is admirable.”

Alistair sarcastically: “Thanks.”

Solas: “You allow yourselves these things that will inevitably be torn away from you convincing yourself that you’re the exception. Why?”

Alistair: “Why? The future is not now. You cannot always fear the future. Because the right now is what counts.….right, of course.”

Alistair: “I was wrong earlier. We knew we the risks, that our time was limited, and despite that we chose each other. In spite of death or duty—everything. Until then it’d be us.”

Solas, absently: “But they didn’t know….”

Alistair: “Know what?”

Alistair, waggling his eyebrows: *gasps* “Wait, hold on, do you have someone?”

Solas scoffs, averting his eyes:

Alistair: “Oh my Maaabari—Mabari! You do? Who is it?”

Alistair: “Wait wait. Hold on, lemme guess.”

Solas: *a deep sigh*

Alistair: “Hmm, it’s the Inquisitor, isn’t it? Don’t even know why I asked to guess, it’s waaay to obvious with how you look at each other.”

Solas: “Are you ever quiet?”

Alistair: “Sooo what happened?”

Solas: “If I tell you will you finally be quiet?”

Alistair: “Maybe.”

*a lengthy explanation later*

Alistair: “Wait. That would make them the Herald of Solas…or no, the Herald of Fen’harel, wouldn’t it? It’s got a nice ring to it.”

Solas: *his face is turning red from embarrassment or anger or both*

Alistair: “You’re blushing!”

—

[just-some-trans-nobody]

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

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

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.

[notjustjavierpena]

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 💖❤️

[serene-faerie]

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.

[sepublic]

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.

[moonselune]

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

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Okay but for me this sounds good, Buddha with a 14 y/o fem!reader who's a warrior since young age, fighting battle after battle, know for not having any mercy to her opponents, ruthless killing machine for others, ignorant, serious, clam and collected, acting like a 6 y/o child only around Buddha because she didn't really had much of childhood but feel comfortable enough to act like that around him.

-Y/N was a name that struck fear into the hearts of many, despite being so young, only fourteen. But it was a name so many knew, both when Y/N was alive and in Valhalla.

-You were a fearsome warrior, growing up in combat, fighting to survive each day, giving no mercy as there was none given to you and even after you died and came to Valhalla, you kept that mentality, no mercy, no holding back.

-Many, mostly warriors, admired you, as you never held back, you always fought seriously, even if it was just a sparring match.

-You always seemed so calm and cool, levelheaded, always watching for your opponent’s next move, making you a very formidable opponent, despite being so young.

-There was only one person however, where you could be as childish as you wanted, Buddha, who could easily see the mask that you were wearing, longing to be just a normal child, even just for a bit.

-With Buddha, your self-proclaimed big brother, you were like a six-year-old child, whining and being affectionate, letting your harsh walls come down, showing your soft side.

-Buddha thought it was adorable, seeing you beating someone in the sparring ring, fire in your eyes as you showed no mercy, easily beating them down, to turn into a child, running into his arms, “Buddha~!” after you won.

-Many others, who did see it but never mentioned it, thought it was rather cute, seeing you being a kid for just a short while, seeing you be so soft.

-Those who were foolish enough to say something were quickly, and violently, silenced, while you were bright red, embarrassed for being ‘caught’ not realizing that so many others knew about your soft side.

-Buddha welcomed your soft side, sharing his candy and snacks with you, holding you close when you wanted to cuddle, and he just made you feel so safe, which helped you relax when you were being soft.

-No other had managed to get to the level of Buddha with your soft side, but there are a few who appreciated when you went easy on them, or when you would give them pointers.

-Hopefully one day you will feel safe enough to drop your façade around all of them.

[starlessea2]

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. 

-

< previous chapter / next chapter >

[deathbxnny]

well since we are requesting angst.. i will request one too >:]

aihoshino!teenreader dying in the same way as ai hoshino

so for more context; a fan/admirer comes to them one day, they bring them white lilies and then stab them in the stomach, as [insert character] goes to check up on them, they see the reader bleeding from the stomach and the fan holding a bloody knife throwing insults at them, despite being brutally stabbed, the reader still goes on a monologeu to explain themself to their admirer, the fan gets into panic after this and runs away, the reader had abdominal aortic tear so it would be impossible to save them without proper treatment, as their stomach bleeds, they tell [insert character] that they love and appreciate them (platonically) as they die in their arms, dying with a smile on their face

the characters are stelleron hunters, yeah im sorry (for blade especially)T-T

-----♡

A/N: What better way to come back from a small break, than with heart-wrenching angst? But in all seriousness, thank you for the great request Anon!

Content: Reader dies, teen reader, hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of severe injury, mentions of blood, platonic relationships, just pain really

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Kafka

Kafka wasn't home when it happened. She left you alone for a couple hours to run some errands and told you to never open the door to anyone. But you were still so young and naive, that you didn't think twice when opening the door anyways to the man, who told you he was an assistant of the Stellaron hunters.

Kafka should've known better, than to leave you alone and now that she held you bleeding out in her arms, she realised that it was useless to think about anymore anyways. You were about to die. Your breaths were shallow and no amount of pressure to your injury seemed to make it better. The medic team would take an eternity to arrive and by then it would be too late. It was hopeless and you both knew it.

And so you decided to comfort her, gently apologising for being so foolish and not listening to her. She tried to shush you, but it was a weak attempt, as tears of agony brimmed in her eyes. You continued to speak, words becoming softer and softer by the second, as your life ran out of your eyes. You smiled, thanking her for everything and telling her that you'll see her again in another life, before finally letting go. Your smile was etched eternally onto your face, as the silence was filled with Kafka's soft cries for you to come back.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade left the home out of anger. He was sick of you being a brat and not listening to his warnings, which made him overwhelmed and just leave for a moment to cool off. He never wants to get angry to the point of yelling or insulting you, as he did understand that you were just a kid, who hasn't experienced as much as he did. But with leaving you so enraged, he left you feeling guilty and lonely. So guilty and lonely, that you opened the door expecting it to be Blade, only to be stabbed brutally by a man you didn't know.

And Blade came home to you at the brink of death, an excited, weak smile gracing your lips like it always did when you saw him. You tried reaching out to him, wanting to at least apologise, but he was frozen at the door, his eyes wide in terror. He didn't know what to do, his mind for once empty at the sight of the kid he took care of for so long, just dying. But then he just fell to his knees and slowly engulfed you in his embrace. He couldn't say anything.

And it was alright, because you were glad to at least die in his arms now. You apologised to him, told him he was right, told him that you loved and appreciated him. You felt something warm drop onto your cheek and you noticed he was crying. He's never done that before. Him crying over you made you smile wider, happy to know that he did care for you even now. He finally eventually opened his mouth to speak, apologising for leaving you. But by then it was too late. Your eyes were empty.

-----♡

》Silver Wolf

Silver Wolf was in her room finishing up some work, when you told her that the doorbell rang. She indifferently told you to open it, not looking away from her screen, to which you obliged and left again. After a while, she noticed that it was too quiet. Pulling off her headphones, she sat there for a moment, before hearing you call her name weakly. Her body moved faster than her brain could process, as she practically ran downstairs to see you lying in a pool of your blood, clutching onto a lethal injury.

She immideatly scrambled to your side, couple screens opening up before her, as she tried typing and applying pressure onto your injury at the same time. If she could get a medic team to arrive, maybe there is still a chance to save you. But your bloodied hand stopped her, knowing it was too late. Tears welled up in her eyes as she just hugged you in defeat, the screens disappearing.

She pathetically listened to you gently comfort her, telling her that it was alright and that you were thankful for having her in your life. She didn't understand what you were thanking her for, especially when she couldn't even save you from dying like this. Hearing you take your last breath must've been the worst part to her. She hugged you for a moment longer, before slowly raising her head, seeing your cold smile and empty eyes. The silence was deafening, as she just dropped her head again and cried in shame.

-----♡

A/N: Alright, I hope this was okay and angsty enough! Thank you again for the request!<33

[suuuupernovaaa]

txon

txon [t’on] n. night

Anonymous Request: Can I request a Neteyam fic where the female reader that he likes is very shy at first but one day he sees her going into the forest alone at night and he follows her from a distance and eventually steps in to save her from one of the animals like Neytiri did in the first movie, and she asks him why he protected her which eventually leads to him confessing his feelings for her which gives her the confidence to kiss him and hug him.

Neteyam sits near the fires, watching Y/N from a distance. While most eat together and talk, she sits quietly, just a little apart, eating and staring into the dark distance.

He wonders what she's thinking. He always wonders that, when he sees her; she seems to always have so much on her mind.

She stands then, and turns, disappearing into the night. Something propels him forward, and without another word, he slips away, following the beautiful girl.

--

The sounds of Home Tree are too much for me tonight, so with my bow in hand, I take off into the forest to enjoy the beauty of our home at night. Pandora is beautiful at every hour of the day, but something about it at night, the way it glows just as we do, is so calming to me.

I walk for a long time, slowly, dipping my toes into shallow pools and running my hands along leaves bigger than I am. It rained all day, and everything is damp and you can really smell the sweet earth beneath your feet.

Someone is following me, and they have been for a while, but I think I know who it is, and I'm not nervous.

Well, not nervous that it's someone who might wish me harm.

I've seen him staring at me, the eldest son of our chief, and he thinks I don't notice, but I'm very observant. He looks at me with narrowed, confused eyes, his head tilted to the side, and it seems like admiration mixed with confusion.

Maybe tonight will be the night we finally speak to each other.

--

She moves with grace through the jungle, and Neteyam struggles to keep up without alerting her of his presence. He loses site of her just for a moment, and when he does, he hears her cry out.

"Y/N!" he shouts, pushing leaves and branches aside, charing forward to find her.

When he does, she is on the ground, and above her is a thanator, snapping at her neck, held off only by her bow which could snap any second.

He removes his long knife from his belt, and sinks it into the beast's neck, silencing it in seconds. It slumps onto the girl, and together, the lift it off of her, rolling it to the side.

"Oh, Great Mother," she says, her voice hoarse, and her eyes wide with fear. Over her shoulder, Neteyam sees why the beast attack - her young are nearby, and Y/N stumbled into their home without realizing.

A protective mother.

Neteyam bends down, grabbing both of her arms and pulling her into a sitting position. She sets her bow by her side.

"Are you alright?" he asks, examining her. It's dark, but he doesn't see any obvious wounds. The blood on her doesn't appear to be hers. "Do you need Tsahik?"

She shakes her head. "No. Thank you, Neteyam. I would be dead if it weren't for you."

Neteyam isn't sure what to say. It's the most the two have ever spoken, and up close, the gentleness of her voice and the beauty of her face are mesmerizing.

"Why?" she asks, panting, dusting the dirt off her legs. 

Neteyam narrows his eyes and tilts his head ever so slightly to the right. “Why what?”

“Why follow me?"

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t following you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I heard you an hour ago. Tell me why.”

He reaches behind his head, pretending to scratch, stalling for time and looking anywhere but at you. 

“Well, I…”

--

I grab Neteyam's arm, and he helps me stand on my feet. My heart is still racing, I can feel the thanator's breath on my face; I thought I would surely die because of my own foolishness.

I had been paying attention to the sounds Neteyam was making behind me, and had not noticed the beast's babies until it was too late, and she was on me.

Really, I have no right to ask Neteyam why he was following me. I should only be grateful. But curiosity reigns.

"I noticed you leave, and just... wanted to see where you were going."

"Oh. Nowhere. Just walking. Why did you want to see where I was going, though?"

He looks awkward, put on the spot, but I am not going to give up. I don't know when I'll get the chance to talk to the oldest Sully again; I need to take advantage now.

"I think you're... interesting. Beautiful, and quiet. I wanted to talk to you but, didn't know how."

I try to keep the smile on my face from spreading too wide. "Well, I'm glad you followed me, Neteyam. I would be dead if you hadn't."

"No, you would have fought him off," he says with a grin, but we both know he's wrong. That thanator was gigantic, and she was protecting her children, who are now motherless. They are behind us, too small to fight, and I feel sorrow for what I've done. The pups sniff at the mother's body, and I wonder if they will die without her.

Neteyam must be able to read the expression on my face, because he reaches out and grabs my arm. "They'll be okay. Another mother will come along. They're communal. We should go, before that happens."

I nod, and slip my hand into his, letting him guide me away.

The walk back to Home Tree is long, but not quiet. Neteyam asks me many questions about myself, and I talk more than I ever remember talking before. With every word, he listens intently, nodding and meeting my eyes with his. I feel so seen and heard, I nearly blush.

We return home and stand, awkwardly unsure how to part ways.

"Thank you again, Neteyam. I owe you my life."

He shakes his head. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N." He steps in closer, his eyes drifting down to my mouth, and back up to my eyes.

It gives me the courage to stand up on my tip toes, and press a soft kiss to his lips. I shouldn't, it's not appropriate, but he's so handsome, and so kind, and he saved my life, and all I want to do is kiss him.

I pull away, but when I do, he wraps his strong arms tightly around my waist, pulling my body flush to his. With my ear on his chest, I can feel his heart, beating rapidly to match mine.

It feels like the beginning of something great.