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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months

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But do you love me?

a/n this just came out of nowhere. Had a little break and my brain said Azriel. So, I said yes in return.

summary: Azriel and oc having silly conversations before falling asleep. Or more like Azriel dealing with a slight sleep deprived lover.

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It was late, and Azriel was more than thankful that he had a chance to slip away from his family and spend the night on the outskirts of Velaris, tangled up in his lover's embrace. The relationship was fairly new. Azriel had fought his heart and feelings as if it were a battle of survival for a handful of months. He denied the fuzzy feelings until he was blue. He crushed the delicate butterflies every chance that he got. Waiting for you to leave. To come to your senses and realize that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

But you stayed. Stayed and fought back. Not letting him fully push you out. Always showing up. Always remember the little things that Azriel enjoyed. From knitted sweaters to lavender tea. From slightly open windows at night to lemon sugar cookies. You let him set the pace with almost everything. Physical touch was a touchy subject, no pun intended, for the spymaster, so you let him make the first move. Get familiar with what he liked. Yet Azriel was convinced that he was never going to forget the smile on your face when he finally reached to hold your hand after your tenth date. The sky might have been full of stars that night, but your eyes shone brighter then the brightest start in the sky ever could.

Now the spymaster let out a content sigh at the feeling of you pressing against his chest. The hour was rather late, but since both of you had no plans, neither of you cared about it. But it did feel heavenly to finally lay between plush sheets after a long day. Azriel was a step from slipping into blissful sleep when he felt you turning in his embrace. Your palms pressed into his bare chest as you moved to hover over him slightly.

The shadowsinger opened one of his eyes lazily. You were biting your lip. A sign that something was still brewing in your head. Azriel tried to suppress his smile at the sight of you like that, slowly reaching to push some loose strands of hair behind your air.

“Out with it, my love," he muttered softly, watching as your eyes landed on him, instantly sparking way brighter. “This is serious, by the way," you warned him instantly, making Azriel frown slightly. “I never said that it wasn’t. What’s keeping you up?" He shifted his body slightly as well, wanting to have a good look at your face.

You watched him for a heartbeat before muttering, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Azriel stilled for a moment, letting your words sink in. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had heard you wrong, but the determination on your face washed that thought away.

“Yes, sweetheart, I would still love you," he reassured you, but you shook your head, muttering, “No, don’t think about me as in me; think about me as a worm," you added in a serious tone. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I think you would make a pretty cute worm." He nodded his head, making sure to keep his face straight.

“What about if I was a dust bunny?", you practically cut into Azriel’s last statement, making the male let out a low chuckle, but since your mind was working faster than Azriel could pull himself to answer, your palms hit his chest in excitement as you muttered, "No, I have a better question; do you think butterflies are intelligent?”.

That sent Azriel into a full-body laugh. He simply couldn’t contain his laugh anymore. It’s not so much that he found it silly and pointless. It’s the way you were determined to get an answer as if it determined the most important part of your life.

“I'm serious, Azriel," you groaned, clearly not as pleased with your boyfriend’s reaction. Azriel nodded his head, still smiling. "Yes, I think they are." You nodded alongside him, "But... Why?”. Azriel bit his lip, trying not to fall into another fit of giggles as he muttered, “Go to sleep, baby." Tugging at your arm, Azriel hoped to get you closer to him once more. But you had other plans and turned to flop down on your back next to him instead. "No, how will I sleep now?", you huffed, raising your hands in frustration.

"Love," Azriel pleaded. It was entertaining to watch you in your slightly sleep-deprived form. Not to mention that it got him thinking about how a night after Rita’s would look if this was how your brain worked when you were tired. “Where do they fit their brain?", You tapped your finger against your forehead, frowning slightly. “Oh, Mother, please," Azriel growled, turning to flop right onto your chest. Aware of his size and weight, but enough to keep you in one place. And most importantly, to keep you close to him. Azriel gently nuzzled against your neck, opting to leave a kiss or two as he went. And was more than happy to feel your hands slowly moving to scratch the back of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"But..." you muttered after a moment. “Do you love me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. "Yes," Azriel muttered again, pulling back to brush his nose against yours before leaning closer to capture your lips in a kiss. He knew that, for the most part, you had been anxious to date him too. And even if this was all fun and games, Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if, in a way, this was your nagging doubts needing that extra reassurance.

“But do you?", your delicate gaze searched him. Azriel crooked his head to the side. “I just said yes. My answer hasn't changed, love," his fingers gently brushed against your cheek. “But you said it without you knowing..." Your voice died down as you searched for the right words. A slight frown paints your face. “Without what?", Azriel smiled at you, waiting patiently for you to pick up your battle in your head.

“Without the bedazzle," you crinkled your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “A what?", Azriel was left frowning once more. “The umpf," you urged, making tiny expressions with your hands. Azriel let out a low sigh. “You are losing the plot,” He moved one of his arms around your middle, pulling your body closer to him as he turned to lay back on his back. “Go to sleep," he muttered against your ear.

But your peaceful stillness lasted no longer than a heartbeat. “That was mean," you pouted at your boyfriend. "Love", Azriel grunted as you pushed against his chest to sit up. His fingers tried to hold you back, but you batted his hands away. “Naah, now I don't want to sleep facing you," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Trying to keep a serious face even if the look on Azriel’s face was worthy of a chuckle. You watched as he calculated his next answer before muttering,

“Are you about to start your cycle?”, the moment a gasp left your lips, Azriel knew that he shouldn’t have. Both his and Rhys’s mothers had drilled it into their heads that one should never ask females questions regarding their cycles, especially ones that imply their behavior being affected by it.

“Azriel, I will suffocate you in your sleep”, you scrunched up your nose right as Azriel leaned over to tackle you into the plush sheets, once again wrapping you in his warmth. You, however, didn’t give up the fight, wiggling in his embrace. I tried to huff and puff, but soon the sounds turned into laughter. “Stop moving around," Azriel chimed as his fingers danced along your ribcage. “You are squishing me," you wheezed, your eyes filling up with tears. Happy tears. Azriel kissed them away one by one. “Give up the fight, darling," he mussed, “and just go to sleep, please." Azriel chuckled as you tapped against his chest, taking in deep breaths to catch your breath.

“But do you love me?", you bit your lip, trying to suppress yet another chuckle when Azriel dropped his head back with a growl. Exposing his toned neck. Making his ink-covered muscles flex. Before he narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, yes, and yes," he stated. “Even if you were a worm, a slug, a bird, a boat, or a sticky bun," Azriel listed one thing after another. “I love you now and most definitely will love you in another lifetime." His hazel eyes were full of affection as he spoke. "Screw that," he huffed, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, “I will love you in all the universes, all the worlds." The shadow singer watched as you bit your lip, trying to suppress the wobble in your chin. “Even if you’re a wildflower in the field and I’m the morning breeze passing through, I will still love you”, Azriel’s words were met with a shaky exhale. And then both your legs and arms were messily wrapped around him as you pulled him closer. “Careful, or I will crush you," Azriel chuckled, trying to keep some of his weight off you, but you didn’t seem to mind. “You are the sweetest, most precious male I have ever met," you muttered into his embrace. “Doubt that..." Azriel had begun to object to the fact that you had called him precious, but your finger had found his lips before he could say anything else. “I love you, and to me, you will always be just Azriel," you said, “My Azriel with a heart of gold."

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

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dustofthedailylife · 6 months

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How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101 (2)

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Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: After Wriothesley managed to get you back out of prison again you wanted to go back to living your life. However, things wouldn't go so smoothly, especially since you missed the man you had grown to love during your time in the Fortress. However, maybe fate is smiling down on you for once...

Tags: Fluff, lots of kissing, you were in prison (but innocent), swearing, french kissing (we're in France after all)

A/N: People asked for a Chapter 2 - I got an idea - here we are. Hope you enjoy and thanks for the crazy support on part 1 ;_; <3

In the following days, you stayed in the Infirmary. Your concussion and the accompanying migraine flare-ups made it hard to do anything but lie in bed with closed eyes.

Sigewinne, who was introduced to you as the head nurse, took care of you during the time you were at the Infirmary. And she religiously made sure that you didn’t leave the bed under any circumstance. She came by twice a day with some funny-tasting shakes which, despite their flavor, worked like a charm against your headache.

Wriothesley also stopped by at least once a day, no matter how occupied he had been around the Fortress otherwise. And every time he walked through the door with confident steps, and pulled a chair by your bedside, your heart was about to burst straight out of your chest. Even more so when he leaned closer to you to press a fleeting kiss to your lips as if it was second nature now.

Both you and him often stayed up late to chat the night away and tonight was no exception to that.

You were leaning against the headboard of the bed, and he was sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back leaned against the footrest himself. He had brought a thermos flask filled with freshly brewed tea and two cups over to the Infirmary and you were both happily sipping away on it together. A small smile was displayed on his lips as he engaged in conversations with you – just like you had always done while dining together at the Cafeteria. There was just this unspoken feeling of comfort in the room whenever you could spend time with him and you wished it would last forever.

“How are you feeling? Getting any better?” Wriothesley inquired, tapping two fingers against his temple, symbolizing the location of the pain he was speaking about.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s getting better finally. Sigewinne’s shakes and potions definitely helped–”

“You can actually drink them?” He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards.

“They’re definitely not good, I won’t lie. They taste like seaweed and sand. It’s like–”

“Like you ate an entire beach and every time you close your mouth it feels like you’re grinding dirt between your teeth.” He finished the sentence for you with another low chuckle that made your heart skip a beat.

“Exactly! How do you–?”

“Well, let’s just say I’ve been on the receiving end of these shakes a couple of times myself.” He smirked, took a sip of tea from the metal cup in his hands, and sighed. “But tea is infinitely better.”

“Oh, without a shadow of a doubt. I agree.”

A comfortable silence settled between you as you each quietly sipped on your tea. You eventually find your eyes wandering across his form - his broad chest and shoulders, to the sliver of skin showing below his neck. Even though he was trying to cover it up with black belts, the deep scars that evidently littered his skin couldn’t be hidden fully. The same applied to the scar right below his enchanting eyes.

Especially the scars around his neck looked like they came from a wound that would take a miracle to heal and recover from and you couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve caused it.

It was as if your body had started moving on its own when you leaned forward, tracing the long scar below his eyes with your index finger, down to the ones down his neck, stopping just short of his collarbone.

Despite the deep scars and slightly bumpy texture, the skin felt soft and you could feel a slight shiver run down his spine as you ran his finger over them. He observed your facial expressions closely as you did and eventually put his bigger hand above yours to stop your motion and pressed your hand against his chest with a smile. Although there was hurt lingering behind his icy blue eyes.

“How did you get these scars?” You mustered up the courage to ask, your eyebrows pulled into a frown.

“Oh, that? I battled a gigantic undersea monster when I conquered the Fortress of Meropide. Guess who emerged victorious?” He smirked.

“Wait… really?” You ushered in surprise.

“No.” He replied dryly while averting his eyes.

You retracted your hand from his chest while apologizing. You felt like you had overstepped a boundary by asking.

“It’s –” He hesitated before pointing to his neck. “This one right here is the reason I’m here.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You reassured, not wanting to pry into his private life if he didn’t want to tell you. He took hold of your hand once more and gave it a reaffirming squeeze before sighing deeply.

“I… killed my parents. Well, adoptive parents. I’m an orphan.” Another long sigh escaped him as he averted his eyes to where your hands were intertwined. “To keep it short, they seemed like nice and law-abiding citizens at first. Like a picture-perfect family. But eventually, they treated us, me and my siblings, like trash, and sold us out one after another. I know for a fact some of my siblings did not survive because of what they did and one day… I just– snapped and ended things and set the remaining children free. They didn’t go down without a fight and that’s that. As for the others?” He brushed along his arms with the fingers of his right hand. “I’ve gotten into fistfights and the like down here a lot, nothing too special about those, really.”

He fell quiet, fiddling with your thumb, clearly nervous about how you’d possibly react to this revelation. Would you resent him? Push him away?

But you did neither of these things. You couldn’t even imagine how hard growing up must’ve been for him. And then being sent from one hell straight into another because you defended yourself and others from harm? Fontaine’s justice system was a lot – but after your case and especially after hearing his now, one thing was evident: It was everything but just.

“You’ve never been free. Not even for a single day of your life?” You questioned.

“I guess not. Although I can’t really complain. My position allows me more freedom than some people above ground have. My sentence ended a long time ago but I have no reason to go back up permanently now. Besides, I’m needed here.” He chuckled dryly before looking back up into your eyes which were now glistening with tears as you were on the verge of crying.

He took your face between his hands, wiping your eyes gently with the pad of his thumb before bringing it closer to his to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

But it wasn't long before you were interrupted by the door being flung open, swiftly followed by little tippy steps. Looking over Wriothesley's shoulder towards the doorway to the room you spotted a very displeased and borderline angry-looking Sigewinne.

"Your Grace." She almost hissed with one of her little arms stemmed on her hips and the other pointing to the wall clock that read 1 a.m. "My patient needs rest and this doesn't include staying up way past midnight and drinking caffeinated tea!"

He threw you a half-amused, half-apologetic look before sliding off the bed in one smooth motion. Spreading his arms out to both sides, he turned around with a sly smirk and looked at the head nurse.

"Ah, my apologies. It seems I must've forgotten the time again."

"Hmph… and also, while we're at it – you should rest more and drink less black tea as well." Sigewinne remarked matter-of-factly while looking at Wriothesley disapprovingly.

"I'm getting quite enough sleep, thank you very much for your concern."

"Your eyebags would beg to differ."

"Touché."

Sigewinne crossed her arms with a triumphant smile painted on her lips as she watched Wriothesley walk out of the room with an apologetic shrug in your direction.

The head nurse promptly rushed to your bedside to fluff up your pillows and tuck you back into bed. She quickly checked if your bandages needed to be changed again before quickly wishing you goodnight, extinguishing the lights as well and closing the door behind her.

This was what a lot of evenings that week looked like. Staying up late with Wriothesley, chatting the night away, drinking tea with the occasional kiss thrown in.

As soon as the week had passed and Wriothesley had ripped your criminal record into shreds in front of your eyes you would’ve been able to return to your old life. But you still hadn't fully regained your strength yet. So upon doctor's orders, you stayed a little longer than you needed to. Not that you particularly minded - especially since you were allowed to stay in a guest room right below Wriothesley's office, which was infinitely more comfortable than the Infirmary.

Just a couple of weeks ago you could've never imagined staying here longer than you absolutely needed to, but now you found yourself not quite wanting to leave anymore – at least you weren’t in a hurry to do so.

You spent most of your time lounging around in Wriothesley's office, scanning the bookshelves, reading some books, going through his tea collection with growing fascination, and generally just lazing the time away in his presence.

You grew incredibly closer during that week. You spent almost every free minute he had to spare together. Mostly on the sofa in his office with your head resting on his lap while he worked through some files with his feet resting on the coffee table.

But as soon as the day came where you were officially escorted back out of the office he was nowhere to be found. You had been told to pack your things by the guards because you were about to be escorted out of the Fortress again soon. And while you prepared your things you looked for Wriothesley around the Fortress as well, since you didn’t want to leave before saying goodbye.

So, you stopped by the Infirmary, asked Sigewinne if she’d seen him already, asked several guards and Wolsey at the Cafeteria, but to no avail. It was as if the Primordial Sea itself had swallowed him.

And thus you were meeting at the pickup spot with the guards and were escorted out without seeing him again. You knew that, back then, his reassurance that you’d see him again had been a lie and the chances for that to happen were slim. Especially since he seldom ever left the Fortress. So you entered the elevator you had arrived in with a knot in your stomach that was the size of a boulder.

During the ride up you felt how the air that wafted into the elevator shaft became clearer and fresher again and you couldn’t help but wonder about your feelings that had developed for Wriothesley. Did they just emerge out of your circumstances? Was it just because he was the only one you really ever talked to down here? For the sake of your aching heart, you hoped that was the case and you’d forget this little crush once you returned to your old life again.

Surely that would be the case.

The elevator came to a halt and opened with the same mechanical hiss it did back when you arrived at the bottom of the ocean. You stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air as some droplets of rain collided with your skin.

At last. Freedom.

You didn’t even know where to go or what to do first so you simply ventured towards the City. You had exchanged the coupons you had for Mora again and buying some tea and fresh ingredients for your favorite dish sounded like a good start.

You first went back to your house, to drop off your things and change into something more presentable than your inmate clothes that smelled like oily grease.

You took a warm shower and slipped on your favorite clothes before heading back out with a pep in your step. The bruise on your face was still slightly visible but that wouldn’t hinder you from enjoying your regained freedom.

You happily walked into your favorite tea store that was close to your home, greeting the old lady behind the counter enthusiastically whom you always had friendly chats with before your time in prison. She briefly looked up in your direction before knitting her brows and returning to noting things down in her notebook without ushering a single word of greeting in return.

You became slightly unsettled because it seemed like the atmosphere in the room had changed when you entered. You had never seen her behave like this before, she had always been forthcoming, friendly, and extremely chatty. Nonetheless, you went up to the counter with a smile, greeting her once more.

“Hello, it’s great to see you again Madame Dubois. I came to buy a pack of my favorite tea again.” You cheered with a wide smile, feeling ecstatic about being able to do mundane things like grocery shopping again. You fondled with your wallet, taking out the Mora you owed, still remembering how much it cost – but just as you were about to put it on the counter you saw that the woman hadn’t moved an inch and was still scribbling away in her notebook.

“Hello? Madame?” You asked in confusion, trying to gain her attention.

No response.

“Madame?”

She slowly looked up at you again and was now clearly annoyed.

“Please leave my store. I don’t want to have my reputation tarnished by serving a criminal.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, ringing for words of protest but your mind simply blanked because of the sheer audacity of the situation. So, instead of standing up for yourself you simply walked out without another word.

You were innocent and always had been, so why would she treat you this unfairly? And even if you had actually committed a crime, wouldn’t you have served your sentence and redeemed yourself again now?

With a tarnished mood you continued your way down the street until you came by a clothes store you used to frequent. You began browsing the clothes rack outside to get your mind off of the unpleasant encounter and even found two pieces you wanted to try on.

Throwing them over your arm you walked inside the store and right into the direction of the changing room. But just as you were about to enter it, the store owner stopped you, taking the clothes you had picked out of your hands without a word.

“Uhm, I wanted to… try these on.” You ushered in defeat, already suspecting where the conversation would venture from here. You were beginning to sense a pattern here.

“You can’t try that on.” The vendor said with determination.

“Why?”

“Pft.” She scoffed eyeing you from top to bottom, clearly not in a hurry to give you any sort of reply. “You’re not fooling me. I know that you’re going to steal something if I let you go into the changing room.”

“Madam, I’m innocent. I was never a criminal to begin with. I was falsely accused and convicted.” You protested weakly, feeling the lump in your throat grow in size.

“Mhm, yeah sure. And I’m the Hydro Archon.” She scoffed once more and pointed you towards the exit.

With sagged shoulders and the urge to cry you found yourself outside of the store again and we're just about done with the day at this point. You half-considered just going back home again and pretending this all was just a bad dream but that would mean you'd just give up.

Was this how all former criminals were treated in Fontaine after being released? If so, it was truly no surprise that no one actually ever returned from the Fortress of Meropide if this was how they were welcomed back. Not because the Fortress wouldn't let them leave even after serving their sentence – but because they were unable to leave. Because they were brandished and irredeemable in the eyes of society.

The voice of Wriothesley from months ago now echoed in your head: “Once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

Back then you had no idea how true that sentence would ring eventually. Not only because you missed him dearly already but also because you knew things would never return to how they had been before you had been to prison. Nothing you could say to the people on the surface would change their perception of you, because they wouldn’t believe you.

You continued to walk down the street and eventually came by your favorite cafeteria. You had often spent time here before being unrightfully incarcerated. You remembered that you had always gotten along well with the owner of it – but you had the suspicion that that would change now as well.

Unsure whether or not you should even try your luck you eventually walked towards a table and sat down. But your suspicions would remain correct – you would be politely asked to leave from here as well by the man you once got along with quite well, too.

He can’t risk the good reputation of his business and the other customers might feel unsafe sitting next to a convict.

How were you ever supposed to return to a normal life again if everyone treated you with so much disdain?

You decided to just give up for today and plopped down on the side of the pavement, next to some small rose bushes out of sight, and started crying. You needed a valve for all the anger and frustration that had accumulated over the day, and if that was it, so be it.

You wanted nothing more than to return to your old life, or heck, even go back to the Fortress of Meropide. But neither of those were possible. Society had decided you were a sinner and the Fortress was off-limits since people without a criminal record couldn’t get back in. Only former prisoners with a record could go back and decide to stay there, normal citizens, however, were not given that opportunity.

“Is everything alright?” A high-pitched voice addressed you with concern.

You looked up and looked into the face of a purple Melusine with blue hair in the famous blue Fontainian officer uniform. Her eyes were filled with worry and she was leaning over slightly so she was on eye-level with you.

“Mhm, everything’s alright.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

She didn’t look convinced and her brows furrowed even further. She looked around and hurried off before swiftly returning with a cup of tea and some pastries from the cafeteria you were unable to get even basic decency from just ten minutes ago.

With a genuine smile on her face, she handed you the items proudly.

“Here, take this. Maybe this will make your day a little better. Remember that just like after rainfall the sun will eventually shine again, there will be brighter days after crying again, too!”

Lost for words and touched by the kindness, you accepted the gift from the friendly Melusine who was already happily hopping away again. At the end of the path, she turned around once more waving and pulling the corners of her mouth up with her hands, signaling you to smile, before returning to her job.

You didn’t know whether to continue crying because you were still feeling like you were drowning at the bottom of the sea or because the only one who had shown you an ounce of humanity today had been a being who wasn’t technically human.

Just what were you supposed to do now?

A couple of weeks passed after that day and things had gone just as bad as they had on your first day. You had found a handful of shops that would still accept you as a customer, and while they weren’t your favorite of all time, they served their purpose of letting you survive.

However, you were seemingly unable to find a stable job again. Your old job no longer wanted you as an employee and all the letters of application you had sent out, had stayed unanswered. You still had enough savings to make ends meet ends for a couple more weeks but after that, you would most likely have to start selling your belongings.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough already, the realization that contrary to what you originally wanted to believe – that you’d quickly get over what you and Wriothesley had after being free again – couldn’t be further from the truth. Reintegrating into society was made impossible to you so there was also no way to distract yourself from craving to see him just one more time. Also because he would be the only one who would show you kindness, understanding and love in a time like this.

No day passed where you didn’t find yourself daydreaming about the times you had sat together and chatted the night away, how you had met up for lunch and dinner, how attractive his smile had looked, how good his aftershave had smelled – and how perfectly intoxicating his lips had felt on yours.

Why did he not wish you goodbye when you had to leave?

And much worse was that everything reminded you of him. The coat with the red silk lining you saw while passing the clothes store. The familiar tea smell that lingered around the tea store. The whiff of perfume out of the perfumery that smelled just like him. Everything just made you miss him more and it was beginning to become excruciating.

And on one of those days when you sat alone at home, reminiscing about your time in the Fortress of Meropide you suddenly had an idea. In your present state – without a criminal record – you were legally unable to enter the Fortress… unless-

You jumped up from your seat, your heart practically beating out of your chest over the realization that there was one way out of your predicament.

One solution.

You needed to commit a crime.

You grabbed your jacket and rushed out of your door without a moment of hesitation. You set out for the market and were practically rushing down the street now. You were dead set on your decision. The more you thought about it the more excited you got.

Once you arrived at the plaza you spotted the booth of the jeweler and headed straight in the direction of the table with big, determined steps. You already made out an expensive ruby necklace from afar that was dangling freely from the jewelry stand. That thing must be worth thirty thousand Mora minimum. Stealing that would surely land you a prison sentence for a while – and once you had that, you were free to stay in the Fortress of Meropide for as long as you wished after. You would have the necessary criminal record to make it your forever home.

Smugly smiling to yourself you arrived at the table, eyes still transfixed on the necklace that now dangled teasingly in front of your eyes. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion at this point. You purposefully reached your hand out, clutching the gem with your entire palm. The look on the face of the jeweler was changing with every millisecond that passed. His brows lifted, his eyes became wide and his mouth formed into an o-shape, ready to scream protest over the theft of one of his most precious items on display. Yet, before any of that happened – before you could yank the necklace down from the stand and make a run for it – a bigger hand enveloped your own calmly.

You could feel a chest pressed to your back and a hand on your shoulder, still expecting your plan to work. One of the guards must’ve sensed your intent and just stopped you before you could make a run for it. But the change to a calm look and the smile on the face of the jeweler told you that the situation wasn’t quite like you believed.

“This is the one you like, darling?” A deep smooth, voice inquired from behind you.

Shock shot through your system. You knew that voice like the back of your hand. You had been craving to hear it again for weeks. You had been craving for it since the day you left the prison.

What was Wriothesley doing here?

“We’ll get that one.” He declared towards the jeweler, motioning to the ruby necklace that you still clung to. He handed a small coin pouch to the man behind the booth, who was now happily smiling, weighing the Mora in his hand with a pleasant hum.

Scarred and callused fingers wrapped around your cramped fist and carefully opened your fingers, gently taking the beautiful necklace out of your grasp.

You were still standing on the spot, unable to move as you were frozen in shock about what just happened, while the man of your dreams put the most expensive jewelry you had ever touched around your neck. Where did he even get this much money to splurge for an item like that?

No. Where did he even come from?!

“Thank you.” He nodded towards the jeweler with a handsome smile before leading you away from the booth calmly. But you could feel how tense he really was, by how hard his digits dug into your shoulder.

He dragged you into a secluded side alley behind some crates that hid you from prying eyes and promptly pushed you against the wall. An icy gaze pinned you down and the iron grip on your shoulder became impossibly tighter.

“What in God's name do you think you’re doing?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nothing.” You feigned innocence. But your voice was barely even above a whisper and you found yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

“Nothing?” He gasped in disbelief. “You were about to steal that necklace just now.”

And to undermine his point he pressed the gem into your skin, which now sat between your collarbones.

“Are you insane?! You only just gained your freedom back!”

“Freedom?!” You bit back exasperated with tears welling up in your eyes out of anger and frustration over the downward spiral your life had been in for so long now. “This ain’t freedom. This is hell. I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s not a reason to want to go back to prison!” He hissed, pushing your shoulder against the wall even harder.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about anything?! You didn’t even have the courtesy to say goodbye to me when I left.” You hissed.

“I didn’t want to make it harder for you. It was for the best.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You swore fiercely. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what’s best for me because fuck, this isn’t it. Everyone shuns me, I can’t find a job, I can’t even buy groceries. I don’t have any–”

Before you were able to finish your tirade you were abruptly interrupted by his lips hungrily crashing into yours.

Immediately the million questions you wanted to ask him and the shock about the situation were forgotten.

You inhaled sharply and shut your eyes and your hands immediately reached up to grab a fistful of his hair, lightly tugging on it while deepening the kiss. A low satisfied grunt vibrated through his chest as you did, sending a shiver down your spine in return.

He pressed himself up against you, trapping you between himself and the wall. One of his hands found his way around your waist, greedily squeezing at your flesh below his palms. Further pulling you into him as he held you impossibly closer than you already were while devouring you like he was a man starved for air and you were his oxygen.

His other hand found comfort at the back of your head, preventing it from crashing into the brick wall he pressed you against.

Slightly parted lips danced across your lips down your jaw to your collarbones. Only interrupted by his heavy pants and roaming hands that didn’t seem to know where to touch first.

“Fuck,” he muttered breathlessly with half-lidded eyes, “You drive me insane.”

For someone who had been blessed with a Cryo vision, you were surprised at how his touch could set you ablaze so easily. Pure flames licked at your skin where he touched you. Hot open-mouthed kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Silken lips entangled with yours as you dangled on the edge of consciousness from being overwhelmed with raw emotion.

It was as if time had stopped for both of you. Lost in the intimate moment of your shared passion, somewhere in a back alley of Fontaine.

He was so close yet you wanted him to be closer. You wanted to hold him and never let him go. You wanted him to kiss you until your lips were sore and you no longer had any air to breathe.

If the kisses you had shared in the Fortress of Meropide had been addicting already then this right now was the most dangerous drug in existence. You were intoxicated by the taste and feel of his lips for no one had ever kissed you like this before. Nor did you want anyone but him ever kissing you in the same way.

At this point he wasn't a want, he was a need. You needed him like you needed air to breathe and water to drink. And he felt the same about you.

He carefully parted his lips, prodding the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip, practically begging for entry. And you allowed it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The butterflies in your stomach did somersaults and were about to burst out of your chest when he slung both of his strong arms around your midriff to pull you even closer once again.

A string of saliva connected your lips when he separated from you to catch some air. His eyes were still clouded with emotion as they still hungrily looked at you. His face was still so dangerously close you could feel the tingling sensation of his breath on your lips.

His arms maintained their position around your waist and he pressed his face into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale.

“I missed you so much.” He muttered into your shoulder with a meek tone.

You felt like all the weight of the past weeks was lifted off your shoulders at once and you were finally able to breathe again – all despite being buried between the wall and a 6’3” man who was hugging the dear life out of you right now.

“So did I.” You sniffled, only now realizing you had begun to cry because you were so overwhelmed with joy.

“Please, take me with you. Don’t leave me again.” You pleaded, desperately clasping a fist into the fur of his coat. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. Not like this. Not without you.”

He sighed deeply, moving his palms to your shoulders, gently squeezing them. He looked at the floor pondering before directing his gaze back at you again.

“Are you truly sure about that?” He inquired seriously to which you just replied with a determined nod.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” You answered and placed a quick peck on his lips once more. “I’d have committed a crime only so that I could be with you again.”

A low chuckle echoed through his chest and he placed a kiss at the crown of your head.

“Please don’t do that.”

You looked at him with a pout because how were you supposed to come with him when you weren’t allowed at the Fortress?

“I might have a different idea.” He announced smugly.

“And that is?”

“Work at the Fortress.”

“But… I don’t have the required qualifications for the job. I would never get accepted, let alone be even invited for an interview.” You complained, furrowing your brows.

“Well. Are you willing to learn?”

“I-I guess?” You hesitantly answer, looking up at him in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow.”

He took a step back, directed his gaze to the ground, and put his index finger to his chin, acting deep in thought.

“Well, then you’re hired.” He suddenly declared with a smug grin painted on his lips.

“What?” You huffed perplexed, causing him to snort out a laugh.

“My love,” He took your hands into his, lifting them to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Have you already forgotten who I am? I am the one who makes the rules down there.”

After you promptly agreed to his impromptu interview and hiring process, Wriothesley accompanied you back to your house to pack your things. He was barely able to stop himself from smiling from ear to ear. And you reciprocated that feeling. You would be getting a separate room in the Fortress that you could customize to your wishes. And the best part about it was that you technically could always return to the surface still – because, you weren’t imprisoned. You were about to start a new chapter of your life and you couldn’t be more excited.

Sure – things didn’t go like you had expected them to, but all’s well that ends well. Maybe you should stop by your old friend's house sometime to thank her for framing you for the crime you were falsely convicted of back then. After all, it netted you the Warden of the Fortress of Meropide at the end of the day.

As soon as you stood back between the high iron-clad walls that smelled like machine grease and oil you felt right at home. It was as if you had never left. But unlike the first time you arrived here, you were happy.

You were free, you weren’t a criminal, no one would judge you here and you would be able to spend time with the man you loved. In fact, you’d even say you were happier than you probably had ever been.

Wriothesley led you to your new room, which happened to be below his office, and told you to make yourself right at home. He sat down on your bed and stayed around for a while to chat with you while you unpacked and decorated the space to your liking. Ultimately he had to excuse himself because he was called by a guard for some official business. And with a quick kiss that both of you smiled into, he was off.

You continued unpacking for only gods knew how long until your eyes eventually began to fall close on their own. When you checked the clock on the wall again you saw that it was nearly 11 p.m. already and you decided it was probably time to head to bed.

You headed to the bathroom that was next to your room and got ready for the night, brushed your teeth, and washed your face before slipping into your favorite pajamas and settling down on your bed.

But as soon as you turned the lights off and lay down on your pillow, something hard was poking your temple. You reached below the pillow and touched something hard and round that felt incredibly cold to the touch.

What the heck?

You grabbed it and quickly pulled it out from below the pillow. The dimly lit room was immediately enveloped in a light blue light. But whatever it was that you had expected it to be it wasn’t this. The light of the orb in your hands was pulsating steadily like a heartbeat and you were quick to discern what that foreign item in your hand was. A cryo vision.

You furrowed your brows and concluded that it must be Wriothesley’s. He did sit on your bed earlier. Maybe it fell off his coat.

You shuffled out of the bed and headed back upstairs, hoping to find him in his office.

While climbing up the stairs you could quickly make out the smell of fresh tea as well as the quiet notes of a gramophone playing classical music.

As soon as you got a view of the room you found Wriothesley sitting on his desk with closed eyes, a cup of tea held to his lips. Seeing him just enjoying himself made a smile creep up on your face as you approached him.

“Hi.” You whispered as you walked towards him on tippy-toes.

“Hi.” He set down his cup. “Did the music wake you up? I figured you must already be sleeping.”

“No, nothing like that.” You shook your head, taking the hand holding the vision out from behind your back to show it to him. “I found this under my pillow, I think you must’ve lost it earlier.” You discerned, looking at the glowing vision in your hand.

Wriothesley eyed you and then the vision curiously as he jumped up from his desk and walked up to you.

He gently put his palm around your hand that was holding the vision, closing your fingers back around it again with a soft smile.

He lifted your chin so you looked him in the eyes before speaking again.

“It’s yours.” He declared.

“What? Stupid! I can’t keep your vision! You need it!” You began protesting but were quickly shut up when Wriothesley slipped the coat off his shoulder, revealing the blue orb that was still danging down from one shoulder.

“It’s not mine.”

Your mouth fell open and a thousand thoughts started racing in your mind. How could this be? You? A vision bearer? But you didn’t even feel anything. Wouldn’t receiving a vision be more flashy than simply finding it below your pillow?

“It seems like even the gods think you’ve finally found your place in the world.” He ushered proudly, slinging his arms around your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head with a gentle smile.

“I don’t even know how to use it.” You muttered with uncertainty.

“I’ll show you.”

If the gods think you’ve managed to find your place then you’d simply have to trust their judgement. And if you honestly listened to your heart you would probably agree with them.

Whenever you looked at Wriothesley, you felt like you had finally found the place where you belonged.

You were home.

Because home is where he is.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin wriothesley #genshin x y/n #genshin impact fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin brainrot #genshin headcanons #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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feyreswaterybowels · 3 months

Text

Shadows Dance🐦‍⬛ (#4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is losing his shit. He tries to keep it together for Sarah but he needs (Y/N) back—needs her far away from Jarek.

Warnings: Reference to implied sexual assault. Implied sexual assault that led to pregnancy. Referenced forced miscarriages.

Word Count: 1.5k

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 ↓

“Here,” Feyre says gently, sitting a warm cup of tea in front of Sarah. Gazing at the small child asleep against her chest, thumb tucked in his mouth.

She reached forward with shaking hands grabbing the cup. “Thank you,” Sarah breaths in a shaky voice before taking a sip.

“Sarah, dear, we need to ask you some questions,” Rhys begins but Feyre cuts in.

“Maybe we should give her a minute to settle,” She offers but her mate shakes his head.

“No. Every minute we waste is a minute she’s alone with Jarek.” Feyre nods in understanding, she knew very little of this Jarek male but it didn’t take much to figure out he wasn’t a good guy.

“Can I lay him down somewhere first,” Sarah asks, voice breaking and raspy. Rhys' shoulders lose a bit of rigidness, eyes softening as he looks at the girl he loved so much and nods.

“I’ll take the child,” Mor steps forward. “He can lay in (Y/N) and Azriel’s room.” She shoots a look towards the shadowsinger, who doesn’t respond but doesn’t protest either. Sarah nods, letting Mor take the boy, leaving the room and ascending the stairs.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Sarah says, shrinking in on herself. She was finally back with her family and it was wrong, it was all wrong.

“Just start at the beginning,” Feyre offers gently as Mor joins the room again. Sarah meets her eye and sniffs.

“Okay, um, well, I met Jarek two months before my birthday

The Day Court was absolutely stunning. Sarah parts from her sister heading out the back of the large mansion, admiring the beautifully crafted architecture. Intricate designs laced with gold. I reached out to touch a particular pillar that had swirling designs all the way to the top.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” A voice asked. Sarah turned, blushing at the sight of the male next to her.

“Indeed,” She nods, drawing her hand back to herself, taking a sip from the glass in her hands. Some sparkling juice Rhys has slipped into her hand.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you traveling from Night Court?” He asked, Sarah looked over at him and offered a small nod.

“I am, this is my first time visiting Day Court,” She nodded, watching as he took a drink from his own glass—sure it was the faerie wine the rest of the people were drinking. “I’m here with my family. The High Lord is my uncle.”

“What is your name, dear?” He asks, offering his hand. “I’m Jarek of the Autumn Court, formerly Night Court. I wasn’t aware Rhysand had a niece.”

“Oh!” She gasps, offering her hand. “I’m Sarah. Rhys isn’t my uncle by blood. I was raised by my sister (Y/N) and her mate who are close with him.”

“Ah, I see,” He nods, a charming smile pulling at his lip, before offering his arm. “Well, you allow me the honor of showing you around?”

Sarah’s cheeks heated, nodding at the handsome male, looping her arm through his. “I would enjoy that.”

“That is how we met. After that we seemed to run into each other quite often. I didn’t think much of it,” Sarah tells the story, sadness and regret laced in every word. “He told me we should keep quiet about seeing one another since I was younger, but that on my birthday he would be willing to meet my family—meet all of you. A-and he convinced me to sneak out and meet him before the dinner. He kissed me for the first time, I’ve never been able to fully remember anything after that and he wouldn’t tell me either. Just that I woke up at his house days later.”

Everyone in the room was angry. Seething. Not at Sarah but at Jarek for taking advantage of her in her young innocence. Azriel’s shadows were a brewing storm around him as he listened to what his girl said.

“Did he—did he hurt you?” Azriel asks, a painful lump in his throat simply at the thought.

Sarah’s gaze drifted towards the stairs Mor at went up with her child before looking down. She didn’t have to say it for everyone to know what she meant with that look. He had forced himself on her and the result was pregnancy.

“It wasn’t the first time,” She whispers, “it happened a lot, usually his healer—who was also a prisoner—would make a tonic to rid the aftermath.”

Her voice broke, eyes welling with tears, Azriel was at her side in an instant, wrapping her in a strong embrace.

“With Elias,” She continued after they pulled away, “it was too late to take the tonic. I escaped two years ago but I had no clue where I was going. I didn’t even know where I was because he never allowed me outside. His men found me, brought me back. By the time I realized I was carrying a child it was too late.”

“Sweetheart,” Rhy’s breathed emphatically—trying to keep the thoughts of what had happened to himself under the mountain at bay. Knowing this sweet girl had gone through something similar hurt.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Feyre speaks, reaching out to grab Sarah’s hand, glancing at her mate, feeling his emotions through their bond.

“Sarah, dear, when you got out, where were you?” Cassian asked, arms folded across his heaving chest.

“It was hard to tell, it was dark and we were in the mountains but I—I’m pretty sure it was the Autumn court,” She says, looking around when everyone remained silent and stone faced. “What is it?”

“It’s just that the Beron is still over the lands there. He isn’t exactly our biggest fan. We could have…trouble gaining access to his lands,” Rhys explains gently, watching the girls eyes water.

“This is all my fault.” Her voice crack into a sob. Azriel grab her face shaking his head.

“No. It is no one's fault but his. I promise you, we will get (Y/N), back,” He says standing. “We’ll get her back or I’ll destroy all of Prythian trying.”

════════════════════════

Azriel stands at the window of his destroyed bedroom in the house of winds. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, fists sore and snarling quietly to himself, shadows storming around him, whispering to him.

He doesn’t look back when the door opens but he knows who it is.

“Az,” It’s soft, of course she’d be the one to come check on him. “Are you okay?”

He nearly scoffs. If it was anyone other than Mor he may have. Is he okay? Was he supposed to be okay knowing his love, his mate, was stolen away and at the mercy of a man that probably wanted her dead?

“Sorry, dumb question,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Azriel glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re gonna get her back—”

“Yes, and what pain will she have suffered by the time she is back?” Azriel bites, bitterness and hatred lacing every word.

Mor sighs, leaning against the windowsill. “What happened in here?”

Azriel snarls to himself as he remembers what sent him into his rage that left the bedroom in absolute shambles. His fists clench, he wants to his something.

“I can’t feel her.”

“What-”

“(Y/N). I can’t feel our bond. Obviously it wasn’t broken but it’s not there either.”

“Oh, Az…”

It’s silent. They stand there together, the stars of the night sky twinkling in the vast darkness of the sky.

“We spoke a bit more with Sarah,” Mor starts, and Az tenses—anything she says could send him into another fit of rage. “We know there’s wards placed on the home that’s probably what’s blocking the bond.”

It’s not the right thing to say. Azriel hisses, tearing himself from the window, pacing back and forth not caring about the debris being crushed under his boots.

“Az-”

“I can’t do this. I need to go find her. I need to be out there and Rhys has ordered me to this room. To our room. And I-I can’t,” He bites, still pacing. “When she leaves it’s different. It’s her choice. I know I’ll see her again. But this? He could kill her. He could force himself on her just like he did with—fuck.”

“You need to get your shit together, Azriel,” Mor snaps, Azriel looks up at her shocked. Opens his mouth to snap back but she holds her hand up silencing him. “Rhys ordered you here because he knows you aren’t in your right mind right now. (Y/N) needs you. She needs you strong and out there doing your job to find any and all information to find her. She is waiting for you—for us and you’re sitting here having a melt down.”

Azriel stares at her. Mouth ajar eyes wide. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so stupid. How could he be so selfish? So self absorbed? His girl was out there, out there alone with his and he was brooding in his room.

“Are you ready?” Mor breathes, looking at expectantly, arms cross and brow raised.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m ready.”

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader

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capricornlevi · 6 months

Text

warm, cool, sweet and bitter

cafe!owner nanami x reader - gn!reader - sfw - wc 1.6k

"not going for the usual?"

nanami's question is delivered casually and carefully, the low tones of his voice carrying across the empty floor of the restaurant.

his restaurant, to be exact. your favourite spot for a late-night cup of tea and the only place in the city that serves sandwiches made with baguettes baked fresh in-house, you find yourself here around 4am at least four days a week.

it's funny; your schedules make it so that the end of your day always coincides with the start of nanami's. he comes in early to put the pastries in the oven, to grind the coffee beans to the correct consistency, to ensure that there's enough stock to last the coming few hours. he's always occupied with some task or another -- for his sake, you're glad you're the only customer at this hour.

though the restaurant is a veritable ghost town whenever you visit, he has told you it tends to pick up around 7am. within the hour, there's a queue out the door.

the popularity doesn't surprise you. nothing beats the welcoming aroma of fresh bread from the oven, the slightly bitter but warm scent of brewing coffee enveloping you into a little bubble sheltered from the usual hustle and bustle of the streets outside.

the bar you work at is just three doors down, and so by the time last call is announced, you're already thinking of the warm baguette you're going to enjoy before rushing home to collapse into bed.

the same baguette every time, with the same blend of tea. you're fairly certain he gives you the same mug every time, too, a beautifully crafted piece of porcelain with little hand-painted yellow flowers decorating the sides.

you've carved out a nice little routine for yourself. but as nanami so astutely pointed out a moment ago, you figure it's time to change it.

some aspects of the routine stay the same; you sit on the same counter stool you always sit at, placed just beside the coffee maker so you can chat as nanami prepares a macchiato for himself. nanami looks the same, dressed in that familiar shirt and slacks that seem perfectly tailored just for him. the smooth jazz playlist plays so quietly in the background that it's barely legible -- you only catch a note or two every few minutes.

but you are going to change one key aspect of this ironclad routine: your order.

"yeah, gonna go for coffee today, i think," you inform him, trying to sound assured in your decision. "a double epresso, please."

"a double? at four in the morning?"

he casts a questioning look your way from over the counter and you shrug, trying to ignore the ache of your muscles as you do so. as he hand-whisks some whipped cream for the pastries, a few strands of his blond hair fall into his eyes. he tries to flick them away to no avail.

you swallow, a lump forming in your throat as you think of how to reply.

"busy day ahead of me, i guess."

nanami nods slowly -- out of politeness, you presume, since there's no way he knows what you're referring to.

your purposeful vagueness isn't to be rude, though, it's just saving you both from extreme awkwardness.

since the reason you're loading up on caffeine is so that you're fully charged to go and break up with your cheating boyfriend.

your pathetic, free-loading, unable to do his own laundry, didn't even have the courtesy to crop you out of the pictures he used on his Tinder profile, miserable excuse for a boyfriend.

in the middle of your lunchbreak you received a text from a girl he'd been hooking up with, who had very kindly spotted your picture on his social media and decided to inform you as to the calibre of man you were calling your significant other.

you thanked her, typed up a three-sentence long text telling your boyfriend it was over, and blocked him.

he had then used his friend's phone to call you, weeping for a chance to explain, snivelling and choking out inarticulate apologies, and you agreed to see him one last time.

just to give him a piece of your mind before cutting him off for good. it'll be good for closure, you figure.

you're more angry than heartbroken -- honestly, you're not sure you ever really liked him. six months into this relationship and you find yourself looking forward to these conversations with nanami more than you do spending time with the man you're actually seeing.

were seeing. past tense, thankfully.

nanami bends down to place the whipped cream in the fridge, dusting some residual flour from his royal blue shirt as he rises again.

"sounds like more than just a busy day," he observes patiently, measuring out some espresso grounds to pull your coffee. "want to talk about it?"

against the odds, your exhausted face brightens with a smile. "there's good customer service, and then there's me taking advantage of your hospitality, nanami."

shaking his head amusedly as he shakes off the excess grounds from the basket, he chuckles, a low, pleasant sound that lodges in your chest.

"it's not taking advantage if i'm offering willingly."

"you don't have enough to do around here?" you grin.

"oh, i do. but hearing about your problem might make me feel better about having to spend three hours doing stock take later this evening."

"ah, so i'm doing you a service moaning about my personal life?"

"absolutely. in fact, if it's tragic enough, i'll throw in a pain au chocolate free of charge."

"high stakes," you reply with a faux solemnity. "you really want to hear?"

"very much so," he answers, the sentence being punctuated by the hum of the espresso machine.

"okay then," you sigh, fidgeting with the rings on your right hand as some vain attempt to distract yourself. "the short of it is that i just wasted six months of my life. half a year. five percent of a decade that i'll never get back."

nanami waits for the espresso to finish pouring, the deep amber of the coffee shot wafting steam up into the air between the two of you.

"wasted how?"

another sigh, wearier this time. "on a guy who i genuinely think has annoyed me since i met him."

silence. this time, it doesn't appear to be coffee-related.

but when you glance away from your rings to see nanami's face, you see that it's more pensive than judgemental. as though he's truly considering what to say next.

"why did you agree to go out with him in the first place?" he asks after another few moments, brows slightly pinched together.

a fair question. one you're not entirely sure of the answer to.

"fear of the alternative?" you hazard a guess, acutely aware of how strange it is to be speaking so candidly with a guy you only know through your shared love for baked goods.

"being alone?" he follows up with a sincerity that cuts through any discomfort.

"i guess."

"i know what you mean," nanami continues, finally remembering the espresso shot that's still sitting on the tray.

he takes the cup -- your usual, because neither of you thought to forego that part of the routine -- and sets it before you, muscles in his forearms straining when he crosses them over his chest afterwards.

"you do not," you mumble instictively. the words fall out without you thinking, but they're not meant maliciously; it's just that nanami is so ... eligible, for lack of better word. handsome, engaging, owns his own thriving café.

he makes fresh eclairs every single morning, for crying out loud. you cannot fathom a world in which people aren't lining up to be with him.

though your blurted words could be perceived as rude, nanami just smiles softly, amusement reaching his eyes as they lock with yours.

"want me to tell you something?"

"is it as embarrassing as my fact?" you query, knocking back most of your coffee in one swig.

"unquestionably."

at that, you set the cup back down abruptly, clinking it against the saucer.

"really?"

he just nods. you sit back on the stool, feeling the plush backing of the stool against your lower back.

"go on, then."

"i don't actually open this early."

your face scrunches into an expression of pure confusion; nanami's lips quirk upwards in response.

"what do you mean? do you open in like ... a half hour?"

he shakes his head, those strands of hair falling loose again.

something washes over you, a sense of recognition, connecting the dots slowly in your tired, over-exerted brain.

"nanami ..."

"yes?"

"... do you not open until seven?"

nanami's weighted silence answers your question.

you breathe in, out. blink haplessly up at him.

you're sure your coffee is starting to get cold, but you make no attempt to drink it.

"i - what - what are you - why do you let me come in here three hours early? why did you never say anything?"

you choke out the words desperately, flooded with a dozen different feelings at once.

he stays smiling, but something else flashes in his eyes. you see the already-tense muscles of his arms tighten further.

"why do you think i never said anything?"

#nanami x reader #gn reader #nanami kento x reader #sfw #may tries to write #hey let me know if you want me to write more on this teehee!#nanowrimo

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nanichi0 · 1 year

Note

What are some of your Noritoshi headcanons?

Noritoshi my beloved!!

Sorry my response is so delayed 😭 I had to think about these for a while because I hadn’t really come up with a lot of HCs for Nori. This list includes NSFW HCs so minors please DNI! Some of these are general HCs and some are domestic AU. NSFW HCs are written with an AFAB reader in mind.

-He’s an early bird and usually wakes up before you. He tries to get out of bed without disturbing you so you can get as much sleep as you need, then sets about his morning routine.

-This includes brewing some coffee while he brushes his teeth, showers, and gets dressed for the day.

-Noritoshi likes straight black coffee, no sugar added. He actually enjoys the bitterness of it.

-If you are a coffee or tea enjoyer he will make you some to your liking.

-Due to all the time Noritoshi spent studying for the TOEIC, he can speak English pretty fluently now

-This comes in handy whenever you guys are traveling abroad

-Noritoshi likes traveling, although he’s a bit picky with foreign foods. He’ll still eat it even if he doesn’t like it, but he much prefers the Japanese food that he’s accustomed to.

-In his spare time he likes to read, practice archery, or listen to music.

-He loves orchestral music, especially movie soundtracks.

-Noritoshi likes when you play with his hair. If his hair is short, he likes when you run your nails on his scalp. When it’s longer, he lets you brush it or braid it if you want.

-It takes a while for him to open up to people about his feelings. He’s very cautious about revealing information to new people. Once you’ve fully gained his trust, though, he’s an open book.

-Despite his stoic nature and his cold demeanor toward certain people, he does care a lot about his peers, and anyone who is under his leadership.

-He has a fear of abandonment as well as a deep worry that he just isn’t good enough 😕

-Because of this, he doesn’t like to grow too attached or dependent on anyone.

-For the same reason, when Noritoshi develops feelings for you, he has a hard time coming to terms with it.

-He can get jealous pretty easily. If he sees someone trying to flirt with you he can’t help but worry that you’d somehow find that person better for you than he is. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get toxic and he’ll usually talk about it with you.

-He’s not really the type to show lots of PDA but if you’re out and about he likes to be holding your hand

Okay time for some nsfw stuff

-He’s a boob guy. I just feel it in my soul.

-If you’re cuddling and you’re the little spoon Noritoshi will wrap his arms around you and grab your boobs. Most of the times he does this it’s not even sexual, there’s just something comforting about it for him.

-Sometimes he’ll squeeze them a little too hard and he’ll apologize but he just can’t help it when they feel so soft in his hands 😔

-He loves missionary and he definitely sucks on your boobs while he’s fucking you

-Noritoshi also likes when you ride him, especially in the cowgirl position because he can see your tits bounce and if you lean forward he can bury his face in them

-Noritoshi loves to leave marks on your body. He pays special attention to your neck and chest, of course, but he also likes to bite and leave hickeys on your thighs and your ass. He avoids marking the more visible parts of your body too much but sometimes he’ll strategically place a hickey on your neck so that it peeks slightly over your neckline when you’re dressed.

-In general he doesn’t curse or talk a lot when he’s having sex.

-When he’s on top and he’s really into it he’ll grunt a lot, though

-But if you’re riding him or you pull on his hair? He turns into a breathy, whiny mess and the only way to muffle the sounds is to shove your tits in his face (why muffle his whines when he sounds so pretty and needy, though? 🥺)

-The first time you pulled his hair during sex was purely experimental, so his reaction caught you both by surprise. Safe to say he was very flustered.

-He likes when you praise him or let him know how good he’s making you feel

-Noritoshi loves the slow, very intimate moments. Pull him into a deep kiss while he’s buried inside you and he’ll feel so loved and wanted ❤️

-He has very high stamina and, thanks to his blood manipulation, he can keep himself hard even after cumming. If you wanna go for more rounds he has no problem with it.

-He usually pulls out and cums on your stomach and breasts

-He’s extremely good with his hands. His hands are well-manicured and he has long, slender digits that are perfect for fingering you.

-Sometimes he uses the Crimson Binding technique to tie your hands up

-He’s generally very gentle with you but there are definitely times where he gets a little carried away. Sometimes you’ll be giving him head and he will thrust into your mouth a bit too harshly and cause you to choke or tear up. He always apologizes though.

-Noritoshi kinda has a thing for having sex in semi-public places. Something about the risk of someone in his position getting caught performing lewd acts gets his adrenaline pumping. He doesn’t act on this very often but there are times when he’ll pull you into a room, down the hallway from where a clan meeting is about to take place, just for a quickie. So far nobody’s been able to tell…although you suspect Gojo Satoru might know what you’ve been up to.

That’s all I can think of atm! I love Noritoshi and he’s so under-appreciated 😭 Thank you for reading 💗💗

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanichi0 #nanichi0fic #noritoshi #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi kamo #kamo noritoshi #jjk noritoshi #noritoshi jjk #noritoshi kamo x reader #noritoshi smut #noritoshi headcanons #jjk headcanons #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi thirst #jjk thirsts #noritoshi x afab!reader #noritoshi my beloved

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gilverrwrites · 2 months

Note

reader having to adjust to michael and adam in the same body together (maybe a twinge of angst), but reader slowly grows to love michael just as much as they love adam <3

Growing to love Michael as much as you love Adam

Author note: This is very Michael heavy, I think at some point I wanna do something that either more Adam centric, or fully about them both. Also I have some ideas brewing for an actual fic, maybe?

Rating: General

Genre: Fluff, mild angst.

Words: 982

Please remember: Not to worry about thing's you cannot control.

Seeing Adam after so long was surreal.

He’d changed so much; he wasn’t just older, taller, stronger.

He was always laid back and practical, but now he’s more self-assured and perceptive.

And surprisingly well-adjusted for a man who had just spent more than a millennia in hell.

In some ways, it was easy to fall back into strides with him. He’d grown and changed, but he was still the man you loved.

The hardest part was Michael.

Sometimes it felt like you were the 3rd wheel. You knew Adam first, you loved him first, but Michael had known him longer. Try explaining that to literally anyone.

Although honestly, explaining any part of Adam, Michael, and your whole dynamic to anyone would be complicated.

Now that they’re free of the cage, Michael could so easily return to Heaven. He could repress Adam's mind, take his body, and do as he pleases, but he doesn’t. He’s sacrificing everything for him. How are you supposed to compare?

Sometimes Adam will clock out of a conversation, absorbed in something else with Michael.

They have stories, and inside jokes you can never really be a part of.

It’s lonely, waking up in an unexpectedly empty bed.

Being stood up because Michael had other plans.

Raising the issues with them garners sympathy and promises of change from Adam, but Michael is less responsive, which doesn’t give you much hope.

Change is a three-way street in this case.

However, you suspect they discussed the issue between themselves at some point, because change does come.

You’d finish dinner with Adam, but Michael would help you clean up.

He has offered to use his mojo, "so much faster and easier", but Adam doesn’t want to rely too much on it. You tend to agree, unless you’re feeling lazy.

And Michael is always quick to agree when you ask. Who knew Michael could be the naughty one.

You’d plan a game/puzzle night, which Michael would get invested in, and take control of. Especially if it is strategy-based.

You’d come home at the end of a hard day, and often, Michael was the one who would listen.

At first it was:

“Your whining is displeasing; I implore you to stop.”

But over time, he becomes more sympathetic, more interested in your feelings and day-to-day life.

Until he greets you with questions about your friends, or on-going dramas. Asking if you have had a better day today.

He asks you a lot of questions. Mainly about Earth, humanity, and culture at first. Adam is a sufficient guide to the human world, but he is a little behind the times.

And you can’t deny how cute he is when he repeats slang words back at you, or attempts to use them.

“What is ‘clickbait’?” “You’re home, how was work? Please ‘spill the tea’.” “Your clothing? Oh yes, it is ‘slaying’. Is that the correct term?”

Adam, who is also learning many of these words for the first time as well, is cringing so hard in their head.

Over time his questions get more personal. Your friends, family, hobbies, etc.

He knows a lot of it already. From Adam talking about you in the cage, from his memories, and from listening to conversations you have had since reuniting. They’re both always there really, even if you’re not interacting with one directly.

But there is a difference between first-hand and second-hand experiences.

And you enjoy having someone else to talk to about these things, another perspective.

You’d grown to like his company, for an Angel he's surprisingly compassionate, at least when he wants to be anyway.

Eventually, he trusts you enough to divulge information about his own family and his very long existence.

Sometimes you would wake up in Michael’s embrace. Which wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

Even in the dark and the silence of night, you can tell the difference.

Adam's touch is soft, warm, and comforting. He makes you feel at ease.

Michael is solid, and protective. He makes you feel safe.

Until eventually, while you don’t quite feel like you’re on par with Michael, you do feel welcome.

You like him in fact.

Maybe you like him a little too much, considering he is not your boyfriend.

Your feelings for Adam haven’t lessened at all, but how can you spend 50% of your time with Michael, who is insightful, wise, inquisitive, and so damned cute. Who makes you feel safe, and valued...

And not develop some feelings.

Which complicates things further. It puts you on edge. Makes you worried about accidentally crossing a line.

How is one supposed to act around their boyfriend when their boyfriend isn’t their boyfriend, and also you have feelings for both the boyfriend and the not boyfriend, you know? Totally relatable, right?

All those mixed feelings of inadequacy when compared to Michael and the uncertainty when spending time with him are not happy or healthy ways to feel in a relationship.

You have to broach the subject, with them both, and Michael has something to say immediately.

“We are not in competition. I can assure you Adam loves us both in different ways, in equal measure.” But he’s not Adam half the time. He’s you! You’re not Adam, you don’t love me, I don’t know how to behave around you. “Are you certain you are human?” What? “Humans are not the most astute. However, sometimes you are as dense as osmium.” Are you calling me stupid?! “I urge you to stop and consider your words for a moment. I find it incredibly upsetting and frankly offensive that you believe me to be so incapable of loving you, as foolish and naïve as you may be.”

Adam knew, the whole time. The whole damn time.

He just needed the two of you to figure it out on your own first.

There’s a lot of conversation to be had between the three of you from there.

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #adam milligan/reader #spn michael #midam/reader #spn michael/reader #gilverrwrites

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toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

dearly beloved (ross x reader fluff)

the final valentine's week fic! remember this shy gf one where they decided to get married in gretna? well. this is that. enjoy <3

taking a tentative sip of your tea, you turn as the door to the cottage opens. your friend hurries in, a burst of cold air following her before she slams it shut. “what a beautiful morning it is,” she sighs, beaming at you as she takes her coat off. “perfect day for a wedding, i’d say.”

you beam over the edge of your mug, cheeks heating up at the thought of what you’re about to do. “yeah? how are the boys?”

“oh, yours is fine. he’s got a brew, he’s fully ready - he looks gorgeous, by the way, if you don’t mind me saying…”

“not at all,” you shake your head, smiling even wider. you wouldn’t expect anything less of ross, especially in a kilt.

“... and mine just cannot stop crying. keeps looking at ross and going ‘you’re getting married! i’m so happy’ and weeping,” she sighs. “like, tell that to your face, matthew, honestly.”

you giggle. “bless him. he’s a sweetie.”

“he is. my sweet little emo boy,” your friend grins. “i think ross is going to cry too when he sees you, though.”

“really?” you tug at your dress, slightly self-conscious.

she nods. “you’re radiant, babe. he’s going to love you even more than usual. and that’s saying something.”

smiling shyly, you turn to look in the mirror. you do look radiant, although you wonder how much that has to do with your gorgeous dress and pretty makeup than it does with the fact you’re marrying the man of your dreams within the hour.

within the hour. shit, you need to get a move on. you turn to your friend, currently shimmying her own dress on. “babe - oh, that’s pretty - when you get a second, would you help me put a bit of my hair up?”

“of course. that reminds me, actually,” she runs to her coat and digs through the pockets, pulling out a little box and placing it in your hand. “i was going to suggest we put that on the bouquet, but we could do something with it in your hair, if you’d like?”

you open the box, smiling at the pattern on the spool of ribbon inside. “macdonald tartan,” same as your husband-to-be’s kilt. “i love it. thank you so much, babe.”

“it was ross’s idea, actually,” she squeezes your shoulder. “needless to say, that set matty off again.”

“i know how he feels,” you smile, tears threatening to spill over your lashline at the tenderness of your man’s gesture. “only thing stopping me from crying is the fear of ruining my makeup, to be honest.”

she giggles. “sensible woman. alright,” she tugs her shoes on, and grabs a hairbrush. “have a seat, and i’ll do my best not to fuck up your hair on your wedding day.”

“my wedding day,” you laugh in slight disbelief, smoothing the skirt of your dress before sitting on one of the chairs by the window. the sun is bright on the scottish countryside, the cold ground glittering in its light; it’s stunning, and your heart soars at how lucky you are to have a setting and day like this for your most special one. “kind of insane that it’s… here. now. and it’s actually happening.”

“a bit, yeah,” your friend gently pulls some of your hair back. “you nervous?”

“nah.”

“really?”

��yeah,” you smile, eyes closing in contentment as your hair is manipulated. “always thought i’d be shitting bricks on the day i got married, if it ever happened, but i’m actually okay. dunno if it’s because i haven’t really had the time to stress about it, or if the gravitas of it all hasn’t just sunk in yet, but, to be honest, i don’t think that’ll actually happen,” you smile to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from fully cheesing. “it’s just me and ross, after all. i love him. he loves me. and we have you and matty with us, two of the people we love most and who love us most in the world. and there’s no aisle for me to trip on while i walk - how could i be nervous?”

your friend laughs; once she finishes tying an elastic in your hair, she leans down to hug you, and a tear drips from her eye onto your bare shoulder. “god, you’ve got me crying now, too,” she giggles. “thank you for letting us be a part of your day. means the world - i love you and ross, so much. can’t wait to celebrate your love today.”

“nobody else i’d rather have with me,” you kiss her teary cheek. “ribbon time?”

“ribbon time. well, take a look at your hair first,” she hands you a mirror. “i tried my best.”

“it looks amazing!” you exclaim, turning to see the face-framing strands she left out of the pretty half-up. “seriously. you’re good.”

“thanks,” she looks up at you bashfully, nail scissors poised over the spool of ribbon. “it’s cos i sit and do matty’s hair when i’m bored.”

you blink at her for a second, then the two of you collapse into a fit of giggles. “i don’t know why i’m laughing, i braid ross’s like every night to get him to fall asleep.”

she giggles even harder, awwing as the laughs fade. “that’s so fucking cute,” she waves the ribbon at you. “and now you can put this in it and be all matchy-matchy.”

“oh, i don’t know if we’re one of those couples,” you wince, sitting still so she can tie the ribbon around the elastic. “but marriage might change us. you never know.”

“well, not long now until you find out, babe,” your friend hugs you again. “have we ticked off the checklist?”

you nod. “vintage dress, old. ribbon, new. handbag is yours - thank you, by the way - so, borrowed, and there’s sapphires in my earrings for the blue component.”

“fab,” she smiles at you really tenderly. “you know, you really are the most beautiful bride i’ve ever seen. he’s a lucky man.”

“oh, no,” you shake your head, taking a sneaky glance at yourself in the mirror while you do and blushing when you see your glamorous reflection. “i think i'm the lucky one.”

she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “shall we go and meet the boys and find out which statement is true?”

you squeeze her hand back. “let's do it.”

after a few minutes of teaching her how to work your film camera and another few of having your picture taken (always a weird experience for you, so used to being on the other side), you leave the cottage and step out into the crisp december air. across the road, outside the old blacksmith's shop you chose as your venue, you can see ross and matty waiting with the man conducting the ceremony; at the sight of your husband-to-be, resplendent in his kilt and black shirt and jacket, you speed up your walking, desperate to be with him.

matty clocks you first, walking over to greet you. his eyes - red-rimmed enough as is - well up when he sees you and your bouquet, and his fiancée winces when he wipes them with the sleeve of his suit. “hi, darling,” he pulls you into a hug. “you look amazing,” he pats your shoulder before kissing your friend. “and you look alright.”

she slaps him on the shoulder, which makes you laugh. “charming.”

“i'm kidding! you look lovely, my girl,” he kisses her head. “now,” he extends an arm out to you - you take it, and take your friend's in the other. “let's go and get you married, mate.”

the three of you walk towards ross and the officiant, both of whom smile as you approach. the latter steps forward to shake your hand and compliment you, and then it's ross's turn; he brings your hand to his lips, then keeps a tight grasp on it, eyes teary. “hi, love. you look… perfect.”

“hi,” you breathe, also on the verge of tears. “you're gorgeous.”

loud sniffling behind you indicates matty is, once again, crying. ross turns towards him and smiles, shaking his head, before turning to the officiant. “shall we?”

“indeed,” the man leads you into the old building - surprisingly warm inside, for it being a stone structure from the 1700s and it being december in the scottish borders - and directs you and ross to stand in front of the anvil, flanked by your friends. once he's made sure you're both alright, he begins. “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

you don't really take in a word the man says, to be honest, bless him - you're too busy looking into ross's eyes, those pools of warmth you've happily drowned in time and time again. but you hear ross when he confirms that you're going with traditional vows for the ceremony, throwing a loving dig at your friends and saying “we'll leave the writing to those muppets behind us” (most likely to get them both to laugh instead of cry), as well as matty's heartfelt “love you, guys” when he presents the rings at the appropriate moment. in all honesty, you're not sure how long you stand there and wait in excited anticipation to officially become ross's wife - time seems to bend in on itself, simultaneously running fast and slow, so it's impossible to be sure of numbers and minutes and seconds. all you're sure of is the feeling of ross's hands in your own and the way he's looking at you adoringly, and that's enough for you. forever.

and then, of course, once you've both said “i do” and slid the complimentary silver rings onto each other's left hands, you're sure of the feeling of his lips on yours; soft, warm, familiar. he pulls back, smiling, and the world opens up to you again - your friends cheering through their tears, matty snapping pictures on your camera, and the officiant clapping and congratulating you both too. but ross is still at the centre of all of it, hugging you, murmuring “my beautiful wife” against your hair.

once the hubbub dies down a little, the officiant gestures to your friend to step forward. “the first act of marriage - the quaich ceremony,” he says, as she places a lovely wooden box on top of the anvil and lifts the lid. you and ross peer in, as the man continues to talk. “husband and wife share a drink, to symbolise the blending of their families, to seal their union, and to represent the sharing of love and happiness throughout their marriage.”

you knew this ceremony was happening, but you didn't know about the ornate silver two-handled cup engraved with your and ross's names and the wedding date, nor the vintage bottle of macallan whisky next to it. wide-eyed, you stare at your friend, who winks. “wedding present from me and matty. surprise!”

ross laughs. “you two are mental. thank you, though.”

“anytime,” she grins. the officiant directs her to pour some whisky into the quaich for you and ross, and she does so enthusiastically. “oh, that’s too much. sorry.”

your husband (!!) scoffs. “no such thing.”

“typical,” she rolls her eyes, while everyone else laughs. “anyway, let me toast.

“strike hands with me, the glasses brim,

the dew is on the heather.

for love is good and life is long,

and two are best together.

bless the union of these two,

eager for marriage, eager for love.

may they begin life together,

live that life together

and come to the end together.”

ross takes a handle of the cup. “ladies first, yeah?”

you grin, taking the other side; together, you carefully lift the quaich to your lips, and let the whisky pass through. the amber liquid is warm as it flows down your throat, and you can’t help exclaiming in satisfaction. “oh, that’s bloody good stuff,” you smile, moving the cup to ross’s lips. “you’ll like this, darling.”

“yeah?” ross takes his requisite drink, and his eyes widen. “oh, absolutely. worth getting married just for that, i reckon.”

the officiant laughs. “and with that… congratulations, mr and mrs macdonald. if you’d like to follow me to this table, we’ll sign the marriage certificate.”

“of course. but first,” ross necks the rest of the whisky and kisses you quickly - matty cackles and cheers in the background, while you blush. “sorry. couldn’t resist.”

you laugh, kissing his hand as you walk. “i love you.”

“i know. you just married me,” ross grins as you roll your eyes, pulling your chair out for you and kissing your head as he sits down beside you. “i love you too. d’you want to sign first, my love?”

“alright,” you sign as directed by the officiant, and pose as directed by matty and the camera, then it’s ross’s turn. “look at that - legally stuck together forever.”

“nowhere else i’d rather be, love.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #valentine75 #shy gf #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

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newvegascowboy · 1 year

Note

Proposal based on your food post and some things in Fallout.

:readmore:

Homemade sodas and sweet drinks are incredibly common based on home recipes passed down through the generations.

In Fallout new Vegas, and in Fallout 4 you can make drinks such as Nuka-Cola.

Filtering water and making it drinkable will be a big priority wherever you go. But making it palatable will also be a big goal.

Local settlements will probably mix sweeteners like syrup, juices, or even honey to mix it in the water.

Tea will be very popular too with all kinds of local teas made from local plants, sweetened with local sweeteners, and traded or even sold to each other.

Tea has the advantage of being boiled, filtered, and flavored making it a popular drink with massive variants between region to region and even settlement to settlement.

Brahmin milk will have a lot of nutrients and apparently good for treating radiation so odds are its also used as a medicine and a big part of a lot of diets.

Some rare drinks may still be possible but take a lot of work such as coffee, and ice cream.

Coffee needs specific growth and a lot of space to grow. So maybe it'll grow in small quantities.

There's ways to make ice cream without machines but it takes a lot of salt, ice, and milk. So you'd have to be very wealthy or very well located to have it

Shaved ice with simple syrups and fruits may make good treats in areas where there's a lot of ice

I fully agree with all of this! Not including it was probably a bit of an oversight on my part, but this is exactly the kind of extrapolation and worldbuilding I was aiming for.

Soda was invented in the mid 1800s, so I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility for people to have reinvented soft drinks. Originally, the water was taken from springs that were naturally carbonated and today, we can do it at home with compressed CO2. Even if the drinks aren't carbonated, I totally believe and agree with the idea that they're making sweet drinks.

I was going to mention in the original post and forgot, but lemons? Those things totally still exist. Citrus is too much of a botanical freak not to have survived. It might not be lemons (or limes, or oranges) as we know them, but they are OUT THERE and that means lemonade is real.

Tea is canon within the realm of fallout because you can brew several different varieties in 76. Also, hot drinks are comforting, especially in the winter and I think it's totally reasonable to think that new brews have popped up with the addition Coffee grows in Mexico at a similar latitude to Florida and parts of the southern united states, so I think you could claim that certain strains have been cultivated and grown in those areas, though it might be rare and extremely expensive.

Ice cream's origins are known to reach back as far as the second century B.C., although no specific date of origin nor inventor has been undisputably credited with its discovery. We know that Alexander the Great enjoyed snow and ice flavored with honey and nectar. Biblical references also show that King Solomon was fond of iced drinks during harvesting. During the Roman Empire, Nero Claudius Caesar (A.D. 54-86) frequently sent runners into the mountains for snow, which was then flavored with fruits and juices.

Ice cream is one HUNDRED percent a thing in the wasteland. The milk and cream is easy to source from Brahmin milk. Cane sugar can be grown in Florida and Louisiana, so it's not unreasonable to think that that's another rare and expensive import. It would be easier and cheaper to get your sugar from tree sap or malt grain or reduced fruits, but cane sugar is out there. Making ice cream is a pretty popular thing for kids to do -- put some rock salt and ice in a bag with cream, sugar, and vanilla, and shake it until it freezes. On the coast, salt is probably pretty abundant, even if it's time consuming to harvest, but vanilla is probably one spice that nobody has access to in the wasteland.

Ice houses and cold cellars are probably pretty common in the wasteland, so ice could be available all year round. Plus, refrigeration is useful in the process of preserving foods rather than canning or bottling.

I think it's important to keep in mind that people are smart, and just because the bombs dropped, we didn't revert back to the stone age. The knowledge of canning, bottling, making jams and preserves, cold storage, curing meat, making cheese -- all that knowledge is old. Just because modern technology makes it easier doesn't mean people couldn't do it two hundred years ago. If the knowledge is lost, logic and human ingenuity will rediscover it eventually.

#fallout #kal talks #asks #meta #fallout meta #fallout food #i love this kind of shit i love it i love it #important addendum to my post!!!

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onlyseokmins · 2 years

Note

Hi, can I have your opinion on each member dealing with dorm sex, I mean more like what is going on in the morning when other boys tease them about what they heard. 👀

I hope it makes sense 🙈😄

Have a nice day 💎

OMG hi anon hahaha this made the rest of my workday go fast haahaha I hope I understood what you wanted but also disclaimers: this is my first ot13 reaction and I like to think that I’m funny anyways kisses, thanks for sending smth in :3

Also, I fully believe there is 0 privacy between the members (with respect to their s/o ofc) but lol I just love this idea fjskdfjsd but pls let’s face it – they’re pretty much bitchless

Seungcheol

He’s a respectful man – doesn’t really say or do much and acts like nothing happened but everyone knows he’s had a good sex night because he just oozes laid-back, easy-going confidence

Because he’ll be real stressed, snippy, or kinda scattered the night before

But upon waking up, he’s checking himself out in the mirror and smirking, brushing his hair back and definitely in a much more relaxed and better mood

Actually, the members don’t tease or say too much – they prolly call his s/o over when he’s in bad moods so they can have a happy leader in a pleasant mood like it has the same energy of a happy wife, happy life

He’s already a pretty caring and attentive man in general but there’s definitely a different air about him when he’s taking care of his s/o in the morning

Eyeballing and daring all the members to say something so ofc they’re not going to but there is some snorting going on behind his back

He snarks at them for it afterwards

Jeonghan

Coughs a lot – like over ten times more than normal

Not a menace, he’s actually almost subdued but in a good way

*sips tea* there may be reasons why for that but I’ll leave it at that

Prolly has a bowl of those really old cough drops like you know they’re stuck to the wrapper and half melted actually, ew, maybe he sucks on one for a bit to sate the cough and then puts it back in the wrapper omg disgusting but anyways they’re right next to the box of condoms on his nightstand

Also, prolly brews some hot water or tea in the morning

Members make fun of his poor voice condition because dude you’re a vocalist

No one’s laughing when he points out that his s/o doesn’t have a voice either

Actually, they know very well because they were so loud last night and everyone shudders (including the man himself lbr) because Jeonghan’s dirty talk is echoing inside their ear drums

Joshua

Was really shy and awkward about it at first

But now that he’s gained a lot more self-confidence, he’s super annoying

Actually, asks if he was too loud and then smirks at whatever the members’ responses are lmfao and apologizes but it’s SO fake like “Oh, I’m sooooo sorry chew on some ayl-monds as consolation” *smacks him*

Prolly has and enjoys morning shower sex like omfg everyone hopes and prays this man does not have his s/o over when someone has morning schedules

Yeah, just don’t expect to use the bathroom in the morning

Big fan of domestic things so he doesn’t dry his hair like a normal person but makes his s/o dry it for him

And he’s so annoying really like if there aren’t any morning schedules, he will make them use a fluffy towel but if there are – too bad – I mean at least he’ll use a hair dryer but he’s just really obnoxious and has his s/o use a brush too, just really likes self-care

Will steal Mingyu’s cucumbers from the kitchen for prepping his pretty face routine like real corny stuff giggling and all that as he and his s/o put cukes on each other’s faces – rip to gyu’s salad

Jun

Bro he just sleeps the entire day, so the teasing is pretty stale by the time he emerges from his room the next day because someone else kept everyone awake during the night

If he’s miraculously up the next morning, no one really says anything because sometimes they’re not exactly sure if this man just slept well or got fucked good because like he always got that sexy morning look

Actually a freak though wbk

Has accidentally been found in many compromising morning sex positions and places

Except the shower/bathroom because Shua owns that

But like there’s your bedroom Jun – NO that’s boring

Laundry room sex is a must so yeah that’s why no one in the dorms does laundry huh jk

But for real, the hum of the dryer drowns out the moans, the vibrations feel divine, and the detergent sometimes hides the scent of sex but there’s also nothing like fucking on a warm blanket out of the dryer uh and it can go right in the laundry basket after!

Soonyoung

Extra hyper

Man could’ve gotten a half hour of sleep but we all know his stamina is insane hence he’s just like bouncing off the walls

Either really giggly and shy or sleek and suave the morning after

Walks around in the morning in his (clean) tiger print boxers

No shirt so he can display all the marks and scratches from his s/o proudly like badges of honor

Won’t fix his hair either like if his s/o ruffled it all up that’s how it’s gonna be the next day until the stylists force some hair gel and spray on him

Also it’s a nightmare for the poor stylists because he hates covering up his marks and there’s no way he’s gonna stop his s/o from giving him them in fact he just encourages it constantly – love the possessiveness of it all

Shows them off to jihoon who doesn’t give a shit frankly

Has a bunch of selfies with all his marks and def has a ton of his s/o – almost uploaded one to weverse by accident because technology is harder than his dick

Wonwoo

Has that foreboding aura that like no one dares to say a thing but it’s not intentional it’s just him

Not sure if the sounds they were hearing were screams from a horror game or something else – plot twist – both

It’s funny though because the best telltale sign is his glasses

Has them on in the morning because his s/o loves him wearing them but also like it’s better to be blind when you have to see your members in the morning but it’s different because he wants to actually see and appreciate his s/o’s face

Which ends up being even funnier because his glasses have broken multiple occasions because of all of this

Anyways, gyu is the only one able to crack a smile from him by teasing otherwise it’s a simple poker face

But he’s also extremely obvious about it without even meaning to be like gross he throws the condom away in the kitchen garbage for all to see pls wonu, gyu just wants to make breakfast and the boys just want to eat

Jihoon

Listen – jihoon is my favorite man ever because he acts all unbothered but you know he’s absolutely dying of complete embarrassment inside

Absolutely refuses to look anyone in the eye (just like his s/o jk unless…)

Prolly hides in his studio heck he prolly has sex in his studio because it’s soundproofed and all that jazz but also the members might come in so…

Like ofc he locks it and truthfully the most annoying person is prolly soonyoung bc ofc he’s gonna tease his bestie but prolly backs off now that the man is bulked up

BUT ALSO he totally makes the sexciest songs and beats (not necessarily horny related but like just some good stuff, got some good inspiration okay) afterwards so that’s another hint

*shows the leader line a bomb ass track* Cheol: You had sex didn’t you?

Stomps around like a child kind of like he walks very heavily the morning after for no reason but he’s very loud and aggressive as he walks around the dorm and it’s worse if he has flappy shoes on you just hear slap slap down the hallways…

Or is that what that sound is? HM sus

Seokmin

I know a hot take is that he’s really noisy but I feel like yes, that’s what it’s like in the beginning and he definitely gets teased a lot for it

So it ends up varying – it’s either a very loud night out of control or an eerie quiet

It’s so funny because he likes to act like nothing happened but everyone knows cuz he’s so obvious, cracking his jaw and eating air out of nervousness

Extraordinarily jumpy because he’s trying way too hard to be cool but we all know how that falls through and he’s just a sweet little loser

Rare moments he’s pretty cocky and smug in the morning because we also know that man is sculpted by the gods to give his s/o extreme pleasure so like yeah if he can make his s/o cum like over five times (pretty easy lbr) then like of course he should flaunt it

Very clingy the next day like shrinks himself into his s/o and then it’s worse when his s/o leaves because he’s whiny, pouty, and bugging his members all day

He’s also like very moody we all know he’s sensitive and gets in fights all the time and since he usually doesn’t sleep well for obvious reasons he can be very grumpy and cranky

Which is cute only in his s/o’s eyes because he rarely snaps at them

This is why the members don’t tease him as much before as well

Mingyu

In his goddamn element much like Cheol

Unbothered king inside and outside, all the way around

Skin is glowing, his crops are thriving, there’s an absolute spring in his step (unlike his s/o) as he whistles and cooks breakfast for his s/o and maybe for the boys

Shameless, really – like even if the man isn’t having sex he knows how to be a thirsty whore on main and also he loves giving advice, suggestions, and lending his fellow dudes an ear for their sex woes

Look, everyone can make fun of Mingyu for absolutely anything but no one can ever make him embarrassed about having mind-blowing sex okay

SVT is more likely to fluster him by poking fun at his domestic tendencies and how in love he is and then he’ll be all pouty and sulky because love is beautiful! Sex is great! Stop being so bitter!!

Now occasionally on rougher nights or if he’s in his emotional state of puppyhood, no one will see him until the late afternoon (and hear a bunch of things if he’s feeling spicy)

Otherwise, it’s gyu’s world and we’re just living in it

Def cooks with only an apron on and everyone except his s/o avoids looking at that

Minghao

Cool as a cucumber because I like to believe Hao’s into kinkier things and stuff so sex is really something he is extremely meticulous about

So it’s hard to like really tease him because he’s almost uppity about it

He’s actually really flustered on the inside because you know after that haze of lust passes it can be a bit embarrassing

But unlike the others, he’s good at masking his emotions that’s why he’s good at the kinky stuff he does ayo

Also really chill with his s/o as well like they’re just buddies almost but he does tenderly kiss and hug them but it’s kind of ironic because he acts as if he didn’t have them tied up and begging for him or like erotic oils dripping down their thighs – you get the message

I think it’s because he’s really thorough in his after care so day-to-day dynamics are very much laid back because too much intensity is not good

Lowkey there’s that one time Seungkwan was scarred for life when he casually said he liked the scent of whatever candle his friend was burning and then choked when Hao pulled out a dick-shaped candle like I can’t even lmfao

Seungkwan

Poor bby flustered as hell

Prolly ushers his s/o out the door and tries to escape back to his room

More than likely does a whole bunch of breathing exercises before getting ready to face the members

But they’re kinda soft on him like only Soonyoung might poke some fun but he knows it’s a touchy topic so he usually lets it go because there are much better things to make fun of boo for

But that’s kinda worse

Because mingyu is just like straightforward – how was the sex last night bestie? and Seungkwan chokes on his corn flakes and then everyone’s panicking until Cheol remembers the Heimlich maneuver exists

It’s worse when his s/o does stay for brekky because it’s just. Silence. And he’s making that cute face when he’s about to burst into tears or laughter esp when gyu serves his s/o a nice, big breakfast sausage

It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he’s just a shy guy and it’s super endearing for all involved

Vernon

He’s just some chill guy okay

Has his earbuds in – can’t hear the haters

No one really knows if he’s listening to anything – maybe it’s audio porn from last night? Who knows?

Vernon? Vernon? Oh god he can’t hear me, he got his headphones on

Anyways yeah I feel like he’s just really easygoing about everything like it’s a “you” problem if you’re gonna make a comment pls seek free sex therapy with mingyu

He’s just really thankful to be in a happy and healthy relationship with great sex like what more can this guy ask for

A cat maybe

Luckily his s/o has like five cats so he’s usually over there instead it’s pretty rare to have sex in the dorms because you can’t leave the cats by themselves over night!

He’s not a heathen obviously

Only in bed though heh

But hey – cats don’t care how loud you’re being and they also don’t make fun of you (verbally bc they’re eyeing you judgmentally) but yeah long live s/o with their own place

Also likes to have sex with a thot playlist blaring so it all works out

Chan

Mr Loser ™

Oh god they’re gonna make so much fun of him no matter how many times he’s had sex

Of course the first time, they’re making him a crummy “congrats on the sex” cake because they’re insufferable

It’s why he rarely does it in the beginning lbr

But you know, once he starts bulking up and feeling himself he’s kind of insufferable too

Because he likes to act like he’s hot stuff

Walks around the dorm w/ his s/o in the morning flexing his arms and shit for no reason????

Like it makes his s/o giggle and sparkly-eye him but the members just groan in cringe

Sometimes he gets mad because they’re all like “pls let us know if you can’t handle him” and one time he mistook gyu flirting with his s/o and was like I’ll fight you and seriously gyu was just vibing and offering some kinky sex suggestions lmfao

#ez.creates #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #nonny 🎭#1k 🌟#svt.smut

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darkittensniper · 2 months

Note

Hellooooooooooo, Mother!🙇‍♀️😌

I am humbly- not so humbly. I’m so thirsty- asking you for that one cassandra x Donna thought we had….because…we starving when it comes to this ship

Please, Mother, feed us feed me! I’m your fav-

I FUOAKIN LOVE your works. But ofc especially Cassandra x Donna🙇‍♀️ because good soup

That…sleeping one…you teased…please. Pretty please? I’ll even leave your vases alone for a day pleaaaaaaase MOTHERRRRRR!🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

The cig break I had to take after writing this should fucking illegal.

Firstly Yes hello yes daughter. MY FAVORITE DAUGHTER. MY ONLY WONDEFUL AMAZING SMART CHILD! I have heard you and have arrived once again to deliver the food. *slams down massive ass plate* Ok so lets start with the basics. I have no right to say I had any control of this one shot once I started writing it. It took me on some twist and turns but I think I got across the what you wanted. (Cass getting touched on by Dark Donna while she is sleeping) My HC's for Dark Donna go wild and i aint sorry. More mutant and multi armed Donna yes pls...

Hope you enjoy it @muffinsin

The teacup fell from frigid fingertips, shattering completely along the polished wood floor. Cassandra’s hand loosened enough for it to have dropped. Porcelain covered in the finely ground root that had been added to this evening’s tea. An unspoken rule between the two women, Donna brewed Cassandra a special tea. Cassie knew it would make her rather sleepy, due to the Golden Pothos leaves that had been added to the lavender tea. The Lord knew Cassandra would have refused to drink the tea if she didn’t want to be taken advantage of while she slept.

Lord Beneviento found much to enjoy when her little doll was like this. She stood just shy of their shared bed; the covers having been removed. Leaving just the black satin sheets. Skin the color of the finest alabaster in stark contrast with the sheets. Dark brown hair lay fanned out underneath the huntress’s head. Her eyes were closed, mouth agape slightly. Revealing small yet deadly top fangs. The Lord reached down and angled her thumb along her lover’s bottom lip. Just light enough to were her eyelids fluttered, but did not open. It drew a shudder from the lithe Lord. The veil over Donna’s face moved ever so gently from her rather labored breathing. Just looking over the smaller women’s sleeping form made Donna’s spine cramp. The lull of her stomach as it rose and fell. The swell of her breast, the giving fat teasing the Lord. The dark patch of hair between her legs, glistening with the start of her arousal. Strong muscle strapped thighs, each as supple as they were thick. One hand dangled over the side of the bed, the one that dropped the cup. The other lay along her stomach, fingers fanned out over the raised muscle of her abs.

The veins in the Lords hands danced along the extensor tendons as she flexed them. Drawing her thumb along Cassandra’s top lip, pulling it back to bare her teeth. A small groan left the Lord as she eased her tall frame down next to her women. Her mourning dress pulled up around her hips as she straddled Cassandra’s naked thighs. A small grunt leaving Cassie’s

The brown-haired women's abs felt like heaven, just enough brawn to press against black silk panties. Yet enough soft give of fat to make the Lord bite her lip as her hips bucked on their own. Another flutter of Cassandra's eyelids, long beautiful eyelashes kissing the tops of her cheeks. An sharp inhale, taking the scent of her women into her nose. Even through the powerful lull of this induced sleep, the feral part of the hunter’s instincts could never be fully dulled.

Cassie smelled the finest fragrance of wildflowers and the natural musk of her lover’s arousal.

Donna, utterly enraptured in the sight before her, the veil opening capturing just enough for her wondering eye to have time to appreciate all she saw. Taking Cassandra's sleeping form in sections, capturing each like a photo still. Imprinted and etched. Burned and seared into her memory. The sweet torture of being able to remember her like this at a whim made a small whimper leave the larger woman. Each detail would never be lost on Lord Beneviento, her obsession for her lover wouldn't allow such a thing. Her spine cramped again, this time the sheer need to have dead cold flesh in her hands, holding more life than anything the Lord had ever beheld. In the ice cold reaches of cream-colored skin Donna found a blazing inferno.

Nails painted the color of the darkest ichor stood proud along the brawn of Cassandra's neck. Fingers honed and practiced. Long, slim and astoundingly dexterous, each individually pressed right where the Lord wanted. Palms pressed feather light along the smooth column of her lover’s throat.

The Lord squeezed.

Only along the sides of her lover’s neck, pressure alone. No need to crush her women’s windpipe. She wanted to hear her nightingale sing for her this night. The response was instant, a perfect sleep painted groan left the brown-haired women. Donna's veil fluttered in the still air as a soundless exhale left her. Veins danced along the doll makers hands as she squeezed again, this time taking the blunt end of her nails to the frigid skin under them. Lips, void of their usual bloodily appearance parted as another, be it louder groan left Cassies mouth. Sandstone colored eyes flitted under closed lids, a few flies broke off from her cheek and landed on Donna's hand. Drawing the silver-colored eye away from her prize to land on the insects on her left hand. They were sluggish but intent to make themselves known, mouthparts quickly drawing blood.

The Lord didn't flinch, watching as a small rivulet of black blood leaked down her hand, wrapping around her wrist only to drop down on Cassandra's collarbone. The air was permeated with the raw copper smell of the Lord’s blood, drawing a sleepy growl from Cassie. Her nose along with her flies had tasted their prize. Yet the effects of the tea were just strong enough to keep the smaller women affected. The Lord’s eye twitched at the reddening skin from where her ladies’ flies had bitten her.

Had Donna given permission to taste her blood?

Like a switch, the Lord’s was deftly agile when she needed. She less moved, more appeared next to the bed again. A cold patience, one Lord Beneviento always carried around her, had been tested. Tested in a way that needed a swift end. Cassandra’s flies, sensing more than feeling the change of demeanor, flying lazily back to her face and returning to the smooth alabaster of her cheek. The Lord went about positioning her doll on the bed. Invisible, writhing arms coming from Donna’s back. Each strong and just as deadly as the ones who lay clasped in front of her. The red bites along her left hand had stopped bleeding but the actual process of healing them would take time. Having marred the Lord’s perfect skin without her permission.

The indent of the phantom fingers along toned legs made Donna shiver. An extension of herself, she felt every inch of cold supple skin through those hands. They were her hands after all, just unseen. Two spreading her lovers’ legs, two clasping Cassandra’s arms and pulling them above her head. Successfully pining her little doll to the bed. The final set laying claim to her hips, pressing into the cold skin until it bruised the pale skin. Cassie groaned; eyes fliting open for a spilt second from the brazen pain. Donna’s many pairs of arms kept the vice grip on her lover, though her body went ridged next to the bed. The thought of almost waking her sleeping women excited her. Under the flowing black material of the dresses hems lithe well-muscled thighs were clamped together. The friction it caused felt delightful, along with the all the other various stimuli she was getting from the many limbs coming from the Lord’s back. It only added to the itch at Donna brain that could only be scratched by the sleeping form of her lady. The hunter felt the phantom limbs holding her down, the dreamscape she wadded through left much of the sensations fleeting as best. Having to chase down the feeling, only for it to slip from her grasp. Starting the chase all over again. She. Loved. This.

Donna gave Cassie just what she wanted, her body already more than willing to be explored. Hands along the smaller women’s hips, lifting just enough for Donna to see just how Cass had started to leak, slicking clinging to her ever so pretty pussy lips. Using her own hands the Lord removed her veil from her head, the flushed face hidden under bared to the room. Silver colored scar tissue, casting forth a shimmering like that of an iridescent moon. The smile on the Lords face only grew as the scared flesh came alive, leaving room for wickedly sharp teeth and the writhing mass to grow. The right side of the Lord’s face also grew many more teeth than should have been housed inside. The smile splitting her features, what snaked out of her mouth couldn’t be called a tongue. The appendage itself was split right down the middle, making two wiggling tongue like muscles. Each dripping with a very special mix of different fluids.

Donna again, appeared before the foot of the bed, its height only making to just shy of the tops of the Lord’s knees. Towering not only above mattress, but also above Cassandra. If only yellow eyes had opened in that spilt second. Maybe the hunter would have noticed the nefarious glint in the Lord’s eye. The absolutely manic look lurking just under the dead calm awash in her eye.

Unhinged would not even be cutting it close to all the dark thoughts running rampant in the Lord’s mind. All of Cassandra at her mercy. Only madness itself could comprehend the bond these two women shared. Veil dropped from fingers dusted with growing talons of their own. Cassie’s arms flexed, legs much the same. Still chasing sensations in her dreamscape. Body unfolding before her Lord, silently begging. A hunter begging to be turned into the rightful prey she was before Donna Beneviento.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine-mine mine mine.”

The word repeated like a mantra. Echoing from a mouth that should not have been able to produce any. The twin serpent like tongues growing in not only length but girth as well. Intertwining with each other as they each drew closer to the molten heat between Cassandra’s legs. Window frost-like patterns formed and danced over the scar tissue along the left side of the Lord’s face. Painting emotions the Lord could never speak aloud, never find the right words to describe the feeling of unraveling before Cassandra. Letting herself, her true self go forth and devour just what fed this dark fascination.

The keening noise that left Cassies’ mouth was nothing short of the sound of a universe being born. It drew not only a wail wrapped with pleasure, but also the unfounded loss of her dreamscape. Jolted out of the recesses of her subconscious. A subconscious controlled by none other than Donna herself, weaving her very will into it. The same way the glistening twin appendages weaved their way inside of both smaller women’s holes. The Lord could secrete a certain enzyme from the ridge covered glands along the underside of the tongues. Ones that were tailored just for her little doll here. Her own personal aphrodisiac, one that took hold instantly.

Eyelids snapping open as hazy yellow eyes met the outside world again. Trying to focus on anything long enough. Failing in truly spectacular fashion. Her attention snatched from her very soul as she felt pressure, the sweet ache awarded her whenever her Lord took her like this. Each time somehow more wonderous than the last time. Even with most of the Lords lower jaw having been overtaken by the wriggling fleshy dark matter that made up the mutation. Seeing Donna like this, primal and in her natural form made little else matter to Cassandra. Each thrust driving home just how much Donna owned her. Controlled her. A dogged want to possessive every iota of this women.

The waterwall behind the mist covered manor could not drown out the tortured cries of pleasure as Cassandra was ravaged beyond comprehension. Each time Donna curled the appendages deep inside her women, the skin stretching to accommodate the bulging mass of tongue like flesh deep inside of her womb. Six hands going unseen but most defiantly not unfelt pinning the hunter to the bed, forcing her to only lay there and take it all. Not that Cassandra would want it any other way.

If the power the Lord wielded could dethrone a ‘God’ if she merely willed it, what hope would her precious little doll have against her? Creating beautifully terrifying nightmares, Donna was the specialist. Giving all she knew her women could take, tasting her insides with revere. She would never ger enough to each pitiful beg for mercy, knowing if Cass truly wanted mercy she would swarm. Yet she stayed, a panting sweat covered mess. Voice hoarse and used as the two women stared at each other. The larger of the two still standing as stoic still at the end of the bed, hands clasped in front of her.

Sometimes not even a finger needed to be lifted for the Lord to get ‘just’ what she wanted.

#cassandra dimitrescu #donna beneviento #Dark Donna #My HC for Dark Donna #Yes... yes you counted right #Dark Donna has an additional three sets of arms and hands #I think my Donna is turning into CreepyPasta Donna #Consensual sleepy tea drinking #DonnaXCassandra #one shot #resident evil #re8 village #re8 donna #re8 cassandra

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caspersickfanfics · 3 months

Text

For @monthofsick day 11: Totally drained/Exhausted

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, panic, trauma/trauma response, ptsd, passive self harm in the form of deliberately not caring for one's body

This went a bit off script - I apologize if it's not what you were looking for, anon, but I really hope you enjoy it anyway!

Anon asked:

I know that someone recently requested a sick Cyno one so I fully if this wouldn’t fit, but I was thinking about a cynari one with sick Cyno for the prompt totally drained/exhausted? Maybe Cyno has come back from a long job, and is just worn out from it all, that his stomach is rejecting food or maybe got poisoned or something. His stomach is just…so upset and Tighnari won’t allow him to simply “power through”

Cyno stumbles up to Tighnari’s home in the middle of the day. He’s not surprised that the forest watcher is out; he’s often quite busy with his duties, and he takes his job seriously.

Any other day, Cyno would join him and offer his assistance. Just this once, though, he sits just outside of the small hut, and trembles. It’s a bit torturous right now, to be still. Every so often, he gets up and paces, in spite of his aching muscles and tired body. Cyno scouts the area for danger once, twice, too many times to track. He is annoyed with himself and with his body, impatient to see Tighnari and more overwhelmed with each shallow breath. As much as he hates to admit it, Cyno is aware that in his current state, he would only be a distraction - or worse, a burden.

Tighnari finds him there, hours after his arrival. It’s dark enough that, even squinting, it’s hard to make out Cyno’s face. Though his posture relaxes somewhat at the forest watcher’s presence, something still something seems off. Tighnari ushers him inside for a better look.

The lamps illuminate a sorry state that the setting sun did not: Cyno is visibly exhausted. The bags under his eyes could just as easily be bruises. They’re so dark that it compels Tighnari to touch them, only for Cyno to violently flinch away.

They both freeze. Tighnari blinks. That’s never happened before. In the privacy of their home in Gandharva Ville, Cyno has always basked in physical contact, seeming to need it as he does air. Now, he pulls away further, eyes wide, and trembles harder. His shoulders bunch up by his ears. When an ashamed apology slips from Cyno’s lips, it makes Tighnari’s breath catch. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says, pulling gloved hands behind his back. “It was my bad. I’ll brew us some tea.”

Cyno nods absently. He’s barely listening, Tighnari can tell. Hopefully the tea will help. Even the quiet pop of the stove clicking to life makes the matra jump.

“I’m just tired,” Cyno says, uncharacteristically defensive. “You were out for so long today.” Tighnari nods placatingly and stays thoughtfully silent as he waits for the tea to brew.

Once it’s ready, Tighnari moves slowly, and says Cyno’s name quietly to get his attention. He still startles, but accepts the mug with both hands and a quiet thanks.

The matra stays standing while they drink their tea. It’s painful to watch. His legs look too shaky to hold him on, the lines of his face drawn and tense at the effort. Tighnari should probably ask him when he last slept. He doesn’t. Instead:

“Did you wait long when you got here?”

Cyno shrugs and avoids his eyes, telling Tighnari everything he needs to know.

“You silly man,” Tighnari huffs. “Why didn’t you go in and rest?”

He doesn’t get much of a response. Another shrug. They finish their drinks in silence, Tighnari’s eyes traversing Cyno’s body, calculating and evaluating his needs. There’s a flush across his cheeks, and Tighnari wonders if he’s managed to catch a cold. It’s an unusual event, considering Cyno’s healthy constitution, but lack of sleep could certainly have made him more susceptible.

Fortunately, the tea seems to be doing its job. Cyno’s eyelids droop, some of the tension in his muscles fading away. He doesn’t protest when Tighnari asserts that they’ll do the dishes in the morning. It’s unnatural, keeping his distance, but Tighnari is careful to give the other man his space as they transition to the bedroom.

Once they’re under the covers, Cyno speaks quietly. “Nari. You can touch me. I’m not– I’m not afraid of you.”

His breath is still coming in short, erratic huffs, making Tighnari hesitate. He hums softly, so Cyno knows he’s heard, and turns to face him. Cyno is turned away, and Tighnari aches to hug him, can guess that’s what Cyno would like as well, but then he sees a shiver run through him. He has to make sure.

“What do you want?”

The answer comes quick, with an edge of desperation. “Little spoon. Please.”

Tighnari is all too happy to comply. Never to this extent, but it has happened in then past that, after a particularly taxing job, Cyno needs some help with calming down. This part is familiar to Tighnari. He curls around his partner, chest pressed to back. His hand comes to rest over Cyno’s heart, and he can feel it pounding relentlessly.

“Tachycardia,” Tighnari mumbles, counting each beat. Definitely too fast, but not enough to require a trip to the Bimarstan. Not yet, at least. “For how long?”

Cyno makes a noise that sounds both pleading and irritated. “It’s okay, Nari. Just need to sleep.”

There’s little Tighnari can do at this point, so he lets it go. He snuggles in, pressing his nose against Cyno’s nape and clutching him tighter. He forces himself to stay awake; sheer willpower has him blinking his eyes open multiple times until he feels Cyno’s heart calm and his breathing even out. He presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs, finally allowing himself to drift off as well.

–––

Cyno’s mind is not kind to him. He had hoped that Tighnari’s presence would calm his nerves, and it did, but only temporarily. He still wakes no more than 2 hours later with tears on his cheeks and a conviction that he’d done something horrific. He checks Tighnari over for injuries in a haze, his head pounding and stomach swirling. It’s fear, though he hates to admit it.

He wishes he couldn’t remember the last time he was this tired, but he can. He was about 12. Back then, he was…

Cyno bites his cheek, hard. He pushes the thoughts from his mind. If there was a time when he was a monster, then so be it. If the monster still resides with in him, then he will simply refuse to let it rise up again.

Though his brain is ready to move, his body is not. Cyno turns slowly out of Tighnari’s grip so as to avoid waking him with his once again racing heart. He’d like to prevent further questions about that. He doesn’t want to confess that it’s been like this for days.

It truly is a relief to have gotten some rest. Tighnari has a uniquely calming presence on him, and for a while, it’s bearable to just lay there. Cyno tries to manage his breathing, tries to keep his mind blank or thinking about the forest watcher beside him. It works, until it doesn’t.

He hoists himself up with great effort, reassured when the pain shooting through his muscles brings clarity to his mind.

Then, he keeps himself occupied.

First it’s tidying the hut. Just little things, here and there - nothing that would be loud enough to wake a sleeping fox. Once he’s done as much as he can, Cyno slips outside. It’s dark, with only the moon and stars brightening the sky, but he’s long since learned to navigate without relying on light.

He finds a peaceful field nearby and trains his body, a familiar routine that is frustratingly more difficult than normal, until the sun starts to rise and the town starts to wake. His body aches. His head pounds. Cyno wanders the village and helps the older folks who rise early with their morning chores, and then he helps the older folks who slept in with theirs. One of them asks if he’s alright, and Cyno blames his wilting appearance on the forest’s humidity.

It’s still early when he returns to the hut. He plans to make breakfast in exchange for Tighnari’s hospitality, but the forest watcher is waiting for him in the doorway. From a distance, he looks annoyed. As Cyno draws closer, his expression changes to one of disbelief.

“Oh, archons,” Tighnari breathes, looking at him like he’s seen a ghost. When Cyno tries to look back, there are suddenly three Tighnari’s in front of him. Hm. That can’t be good.

“Cyno, sit down.” He sounds distinctly exasperated, “Do you even know what you look like right now?”

“Probably like a very strong, intelligent, and admirable human,” Cyno quips.

Tighnari glares, ignoring the joke entirely. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes,” Cyno says, and perhaps he responded too quickly, because Tighnari’s eyes narrow keenly.

“How long?” It’s a demand more than it is a question. Cyno can’t help but hesitate. He knows Tighnari sees right through him, but suddenly his brain just isn’t working right.

“Don’t worry, Nari,” he mumbles. He tries to think of something reassuring. “I’m fine. I’ve been helping the villagers all morning.”

The concern in Tighnari’s face morphs into something more akin to horror. He shakes his head. “Get in bed.”

“I’m going back to work in a few hours.”

“You’re hilarious. Bed. Now.”

“At least let me make you breakfast.”

“Absolutely not.” Tighnari has been working himself up into a fury, and it’s alright - this is how Tighnari responds to worry. But then his face falls. Utter devastation mars his delicate features. Cyno trembles. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Tighnari, bravely, forges on.

“Do you– do you know that you’re hurting yourself right now?”

Cyno flinches away. Something aches, more than his muscles, deep in his soul. It swirls his stomach. He wants to sleep. He wants to relax. He wants Tighnari to smile and lie around in bed with him all day.

He cannot let Tighnari get hurt.

Unbidden, the vision from Cyno’s nightmares is superimposed on top of the forest watcher before him. It’s gone in an instant, but the damage has been done. Heat washes over his body and tremors run violently through him. Tighnari’s eyes widen, and then he disappears from Cyno’s vision.

The matra manages a choked noise of protest. He wants to follow, but his feet are held frozen in place by an overpowering wave of nausea. He doubles over, retching, and Tighnari reappears, bucket in hand. Cyno grasps at it. He coughs uncontrollably until hot, burning liquid shoots into the container, a revolting splatter against plastic. There’s just barely time for a moan before he’s being sick again, choking on a few chunks of undigested food until they’re carried forward by another gush of puke.

“That’s it. You’re okay.” Tighnari’s voice is thready and strained. “You’re safe.”

He certainly doesn’t feel it. Cyno would’ve liked to remain standing, but his legs give out. Tighnari catches him by the waist and guides him to the floor as Cyno continues gagging and heaving. His head feels heavy, ballooning bigger and bigger with each heave, and the ground is shaking beneath him. There’s a moment of relief when Tighnari’s cool hand finds his forehead, but then it draws away with a curse.

“I shouldn’t have let you go out this morning,” Tighnari mumbles. As if it’s his fault. Cyno’s stomach squeezes, wringing itself out all the more forcefully and emptying into the bin.

He doesn’t remember leaning into Tighnari, but when the retching comes to a stop, Cyno realizes that he’s practically in his lap. Queasy tremors continue to run through him, but his heart is finally slowing. Tighnari holds him without complaint. He gives him time to catch his breath, waits as he burps again and again, bringing up a few more pathetic streams of bile, catches him a second time when Cyno slumps against him.

“Did you know you had a fever?” Tighnari asks eventually. Cyno just shakes his head. He’s spent, 100%. He doesn’t move when Tighnari’s hand falls over his heart.

“It seems… better. How are you feeling?”

It takes a moment to find words again, but Tighnari waits. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Nari,” he croaks. “I just can’t–” He squeezes his eyes shut, awful memories on the edge of his vision again. Tighnari hums.

“Tell me, Cyno. You can’t keep bottling it up.”

He’s right. Cyno knows it. And Tighnari knows about his past, he’s fine with it. Still. There’s a difference between knowing his monstrous history and finding out that he still carries the beast with him. That it’s with them, ready to attack, every night in bed. That Cyno can’t guarantee it won’t get out in the moment when he’s weakest. When he’s tired. When he’s sick. Cyno whimpers. He doesn’t know how to tell Tighnari this, and he doesn’t know if he should.

“You’re scared of something,” Tighnari whispers knowingly. “That’s okay. I’m scared of things, too.”

Yes, Cyno thinks, but not of me.

The thought has him lurching for the bucket again. His throat grates as he heaves, repeatedly, until he manages to weakly cough up a few splashes of bile. He’s so exhausted. And Tighnari is so sweet. It pains him, but Tighnari deserves to know. Cyno wipes an arm across his mouth.

“I could hurt you.” His voice sounds small even in his own ears. He knows Tighnari heard. He must have. And yet, when there’s no big reaction, when he doesn’t jump away or even tense up, Cyno second-guesses. “Did you hear me, Tighnari? I said–”

Tighnari snorts. As if he’s laughing. Defiance flares and Cyno’s fists ball up. When he speaks, Tighnari sounds entirely unfazed. “I heard you. You have seen my ears before, Cyno, haven’t you?”

Cyno squirms, irritated and planning to remove himself from Tighnari’s lap until a hand presses down firmly on his chest. “I heard you, Cyno,” Tighnari tries again, his voice serious, now. “And I don’t mean to dismiss your concerns, but really. I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” Cyno says darkly, but Tighnari is shaking his head before he finishes speaking.

“I know what childhood was like for you. I know it was difficult, and painful, and scary, and that you think you hurt people. But I also know it wasn’t your fault. You were a child.”

“I’m a monster.” The words slip out and send a clawing fear up Cyno’s throat. Tighnari holds him tighter, and nothing else happens. Tears flood Cyno’s eyes. “Tighnari, I– I’m a–”

“No,” Tighnari says firmly. “You are not. I trust you. The villagers trust you. Collei, who trusts few others, trusts you. Sumeru trusts you.”

Cyno wants to protest. They’ve all made a mistake. They shouldn’t. They don’t know what could happen, the risk–

“Please, Cyno, trust our judgement, for once. Just a little bit. Just for today.”

And it’s… Not a fix. It doesn’t obliterate Cyno’s fears, doesn’t make him feel wholly human. But something fizzles out, like a balloon deflating through a single pinprick. Cyno does not give his trust out easily, but for nearly as long as they’ve known each other, Tighnari has held it gently in clawed hands, never so much as threatening to scratch it.

Perhaps he’s simply too tired to maintain the tension that’s kept him awake for so long, and it will be just as bad tomorrow, but Cyno doesn’t think so. Dazed, but hopeful, for the first time in nearly half a week, Cyno nods. Tighnari smiles, and Cyno can breathe a little freer.

“Okay,” says the keeper of Cyno’s trust. He stands and takes Cyno up with him, cradled in his arms. Safe. Almost whole. It’s good enough, at least for now. “Let’s get you back to bed, then. When you wake, we’ll play a game of cards, if you want.”

Cyno mumbles something unintelligible into Tighnari's chest and falls into a deep and peaceful sleep.

–––

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#my writing #tw emeto #tw vomit #tw anxiety #tw panic #emeto tw #tw passive self harm #tw trauma #genshin emeto #genshin impact emeto #sick cyno #cyno genshin impact #tighnari genshin impact #novemetober rescheduled #novemetober #genshin sickfic #spent so long on this........ idk if i like. it just needed to be done at some point #my writing: genshin

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keldae · 3 months

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Cute, shippy starters: 46) “Hey, have you seen the..? *Oh.*”

Devi loved cats, for the most part. Having grown up in the Lower City, stray cats had been all over the place; and most of them, after some obligatory introductory hissing, seemed to tolerate the little half-Elf thief well enough. Some had even learned that, if they were friendly enough, Devi might share her food scraps with them while she waited for her next mark. It hadn't been uncommon for Devi to have a cat curled up beside her while she had sat on a roof ledge, or prowling around her legs while she'd scoped out a new target. Her father would never have let her keep one for a pet, but she enjoyed giving scritches and pets where she could to the stray animals.

And then there was Tara.

Devi supposed her first mistake had been referring to Tara as “Gale's tressym” – she'd immediately gotten hissed at for that. She hadn't made the same mistake again, but Tara seemed to not ever forget a grudge. Even after Devi had come home with Gale to Waterdeep, Tara had regarded the thief with aloof suspicion. She was incredibly different from the normal cats Devi had grown used to, and even with regular usage of a potion to let her speak with animals, the two regularly butted heads.

She knew it caused Gale distress, that the woman he loved and the tressym he adored seemed to be permanently at odds. “Was she like this with Mystra too?” she had asked one day, watching Tara fly in pursuit of a hapless pigeon.

Gale had snorted. “Given how Mystra and I ended, and the sixth sense that animals have about such things, I like to think Tara would have tried to claw her eyes out if they'd ever met.” He'd smiled and given Devi a kiss on the temple. “I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually. She's just… cautious with new people.”

That had been well over a tenday ago, and Devi still wasn't sure how long ‘eventually’ was supposed to last.

She sat in her favourite chair in Gale's tower, idly plucking at the strings on her violin. Gale himself was out today – he'd been summoned to some sort of meeting with another wizard, and the tone of the invitation had made it clear that Devi wasn't invited. Honestly, Gale had been more offended at the entire matter than she'd been. She'd sent him on his way with a kiss and a promise that she wouldn't find any mischief in his absence. And so far, she'd been good to her word, reading one of his many books and coming up with a new melody to play on the violin.

She sighed, looking out the window for a moment, then winced as her stomach lurched threateningly. Apparently whatever stomach flu she had somehow picked up (that Gale had dodged. Lucky bastard of a wizard.) was still not fully out of her system. And that had been the other reason Gale had been reluctant to go to this meeting with his colleague – he was worried about her, after the last four days of her waking up sick and struggling to keep anything she ate down.

Maybe it was the coffee he had introduced her to. Devi wrinkled her nose in thought. That was something she had never been introduced to as a poor Baldurian thief – perhaps the rich, stimulant brew was the cause of her–

Her eyes went wide, and she barely had time to set her violin on the table and grab an empty pail before her stomach violently rejected the two pieces of toasted bread and the banana she'd eaten less than an hour ago.

Wincing as her stomach eventually stopped revolting, she spat into the bucket, then shakily stood up, intent on finding water to rinse her mouth out before disposing of the vomited meal. “Fucking hells,” she mumbled, scowling down at her stomach. “Are you done yet?”

“Tsk, tsk,” said a voice behind Devi, one that made her jump. “Mr. Dekarios will not be pleased to learn that you're still ill.” With a flutter of her wings, Tara jumped up onto the table, regarding Devi with a stern look. “Had I thumbs, I would make you drink some tea.”

“Gale's been trying with the tea,” Devi said, finding a carafe of water in the kitchen and swishing a mouthful around to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She spat into the bucket, still feeling Tara's eyes on her. “I think it helps a little bit?”

Tara lowly growled, then jumped to the counter. “Here,” she said, standing up on her hind legs to paw at a rack of herbs. “Mr. Dekarios keeps ginger up in this rack, and that should help with human – or half-Elf – nausea.”

“... Thank you.” Devi approached the counter, reaching around the fluffy head and wings to grab the large ginger root. Finding where Gale kept his kitchen knives, she carefully cut off a thin slice of the ginger, then put it in her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the strong taste. “Please work,” she mumbled as she put the rest of the root away, then moved to clean off the knife. She knew how particular Gale was with his knives.

Tara sat on the counter, tail swishing as she watched the thief clean and return the knife to its block. “I know you haven't been sleeping either,” the tressym said, “what with constantly waking up sick the last few nights. Go lie down.”

Devi frowned at the idea of taking orders from the winged cat. “I'm honestly all right,” she started to say. “I don't feel–”

She blinked as a paw batted at her arm. “You clearly are not all right,” Tara scolded. “And I'll not have Mr. Dekarios fretting over if you're getting enough rest while you’re so obviously ill. He's made it quite clear that he cares a great deal about you.” The tressym shifted her weight, then jumped onto Devi’s shoulders, making her stagger with a little grunt at the weight of a heavy winged cat perching on her. “To bed with you, Deviali.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief muttered. “What about if I just sit and read or–”

Tara growled threateningly.

Devi sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m going.” She wouldn’t ever admit it to Tara, but she was tired, after four mornings of waking up sick before the time that she and Gale normally got up. And it was impossible to quietly vomit, as she’d figured out the hard way – Gale was always at her side within a minute of her lunging out of bed, holding her hair back and looking at her with open concern in his eyes. “What do you care about me?” the half-Elf asked the tressym as she started making her way to the bedroom, with a longing glance at her violin. “You don’t seem to like me as it is.”

Seemingly noticing which way Devi’s eyes went, Tara lightly smacked the side of her face with her paw to make her focus on going to bed. “My opinions are moot. Mr. Dekarios adores you, which means that it becomes my duty to look after you like I do him. I’ve looked after that wizard since he was a boy – I’m not about to fly off because he picked you.” She settled across the back of Devi’s neck, like an oversized, winged scarf. “And if I don’t look after you, then it becomes the dog’s job to tend to you, and he is not a suitable caretaker.”

“Scratch is perfectly fine,” Devi protested, obligated to defend what she had come to think of as ‘her’ dog since the day he’d shown up in camp. “And he doesn’t try to nursemaid me or anything–”

“My point exactly. You’re obviously ill, and dogs, while loyal, do not understand taking care of two-legged creatures with no self-preservation instincts.”

“... I have perfectly fine self-preservation instincts,” Devi grumbled as she entered the bedroom and sat down on her side of the bed.

“That’s not the impression I got from hearing Mr. Dekarios’ stories about you during your little adventure,” Tara disagreed. She hopped down from Devi’s shoulders, then settled on the thief’s lap, giving her a pointed look. “If I have to make you lie down…”

Devi thought about arguing with the cat, then saw Tara warningly flex her front paws, revealing sharp claws under her fur, and thought better of it. “I can’t believe I just lost an argument with you,” she complained, laying down and curling up on her side.

Tara’s tail twitched in an almost smug manner. “Please feel free to ask Mr. Dekarios why he doesn’t pick fights with me anymore.” She climbed up onto Devi’s hip and started kneading the half-Elf through her trousers. “Ugh, you’re far too thin still. Is Mr. Dekarios not feeding you sufficiently?”

“If Gale could feed me himself, he would,” Devi muttered. “It’s hard to eat when everything he makes, no matter how good, keeps coming back up.”

“If you wake up sick again tomorrow,” Tara mused, “I’m going to have to tell him to fetch a cleric or visit an apothecary. Then again, perhaps he’ll bring something home tonight for you to feel better.” She jumped down to the mattress and, to Devi’s surprise, curled up against the thief’s stomach. “You are not to move from this bed until Mr. Dekarios returns home this evening, and you do not want to know what the consequences will be if you disobey me. Are we understood?”

“I’m being bullied into taking a nap by a tressym,” Devi groused, and promptly got batted by one of Tara’s wings. “Ow!”

“Somebody has to ensure that you rest and recover, if you’re not going to look after yourself.” Tara’s vivid eyes met Devi’s without blinking. “Now, I will allow you to offer scratches to my ears, just this once. Do not get used to it.”

Devi eyed the tressym for a moment, then slowly reached to slowly pet the top of Tara’s head, rubbing behind her ears. She was quickly rewarded with the low rumble of a pleased purr, vibrating against her stomach. Despite the half-Elf’s reluctance to take a nap, the feeling of curling up in bed with a large cat – or tressym – snuggled up against her upset stomach did feel very soothing. She sighed, then let her eyes drift closed, and felt Tara’s purring grow a little louder, as though the tressym approved. “You’re still the worst,” she muttered.

“Likewise, Deviali,” Tara smugly said, her purring never stopping. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief grumbled, even if part of her knew that the tressym would always use her despised full name, until the day Devi married Gale and took his last name for her own. Then it would probably become “Mrs. Dekarios”.

That actually has a nice ring to it, she thought as she felt herself slowly drift away into sleep, lulled by the sounds of Tara's purring.

—

Gale frowned slightly as he entered his tower, expecting to be greeted on his return home. The only lifeform to welcome him was Scratch, curled up by the fireplace; the dog looked up and thumped his tail against the floor, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “Where’s Devi, hmm?” the wizard asked, kneeling to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

Scratch wuffed, then set his head back down on his front paws. “Upstairs,” he said – Gale, once again, was grateful for the spell that let him speak with animals. “She’s been upstairs with Tara all day.”

That got a small wince from Gale – he almost wondered if there had been bloodshed in his home during his absence. “Good boy, Scratch,” he said, standing back up and making his way through the tower. It was suspiciously quiet in his residence: no Tara trotting or flying up to see him with a meow of greeting, no sounds of Devi playing her violin, no pretty half-Elf emerging from a doorway with a smile on her face to see her betrothed. He sighed, wondering if Devi and Tara had managed to kill each other while he’d been stuck all day with his wizarding colleagues. “Devi?” he lowly called out. “Tara?”

No sign of Tara anywhere – perhaps she was out hunting pigeons again. But Devi should have been here. Gale poked his head into the common room, then into his study – no sign of his favourite thief in either room, besides the violin resting on a table beside the window. Perhaps the bedroom, then? Gods knew that she hadn’t been resting well, with waking up sick every morning the past few days. He could only pray that the potions in his satchel, purchased from the apothecary only an hour ago, would cure whatever was wrong with her. He approached the bedroom door, only slightly ajar, and gently pushed it open. “Have you seen –” he started to say as he looked in – a second later, he went silent, his eyes softening. “Oh.”

On the bed, Tara looked up from where she was curled against a sleeping Devi, the tip of her tail swishing before her nose. “Not a word from you about this compromising position,” she quietly said, ears tilting back slightly. “It was the only way to make sure she rested. She was ill again this afternoon while you were gone.”

“Again?” Gale frowned worriedly as he sat on the edge of the bed; Tara stood up and stretched, then climbed up onto his shoulders, curling up around his neck and purring away. “Thank you for looking after her, Tara – I know you disapprove of her, but I love her.”

“I know you do. And it is good to see you happy with her, Mr. Dekarios.” Tara carefully adjusted her wings so she wouldn’t hit Gale in the back of the head with the large appendages. “She’s slept the last two hours after being ill again. You did stop at an apothecary for something to cure her, yes?”

“I did – and I’ve been assured that the potions I bought should fix anything.” The wizard carefully leaned down to Devi’s face, pressing gentle kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her cheek. “Hello, my love,” he murmured as Devi started to stir. “Did you sleep well?”

Devi’s eyes slowly opened as she looked up at Gale; her lips pulled up in a smile once she recognized him. “Hey, you,” she quietly said, reaching up to kiss him. “Welcome home.”

Gale smiled fondly as he returned Devi’s kiss, stroking his hand through her long hair. “And it feels the most like home when you’re here to grace it with your presence,” he softly chuckled. “Are you feeling better? Tara mentioned you were ill again.”

“Traitor,” Devi muttered, frowning up at the smug tressym, before slowly sitting up. “I… think I’m all right? At least for–” She froze, eyes widening as her hand settled on her stomach. “... Shit.”

Instinct had Gale stand up and get the hell out of Devi’s way, a second before she was on her feet and fleeing to the water closet. He frowned, worry becoming full-fledged anxiety as he started fishing around in his satchel for a potion. “Tara, can you stay with her for another minute while I get her some water?”

Tara was off his shoulders and flying after Devi almost before he’d finished speaking. “Do hurry, Mr. Dekarios,” she called back. “I am not an expert on half-Elves, but something is certainly wrong.”

#bg3 fic #bg3 #post-epilogue #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale dekarios #Deviali #tara the tressym #tara was fun to write #her and devi bickering pleases me #as much as Tara being a reluctant mother to Devi #also... oh Devi that isn't a stomach flu you've got going on #for the record #this has been sitting in my inbox since 11 November 2017 #oldest prompt that's been waiting for me #Kel answers prompts a million years later #Kel writes

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