the-fae-tricked-me

[the-fae-tricked-me]

this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it

buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell

leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist

put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.

when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!

plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.

if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge

if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.

its not stupid if it works! our brains literally have a chemical deficiency. you are allowed to accommodate yourself. go forth and stop making your life more difficult than it has to be because "this shouldn't be this hard". it is hard, so make it easier.

[the-fae-tricked-me]

I still clicked on it😭😭

[the-fae-tricked-me]

Where are the butch Mizu X femme Akemi Blue modern setting fanfics? I can't be the only one who needs Mizu with a leather jacket and a motorcycle. The orange glasses stay on. Serving gender. Akemi as a studious bad bitch. Both of them attracted to each other but oblivious until they're not. Mizu fighting against being seen as vulnerable VS Akemi fighting to be seen as strong/great. Bonus point if Taigen is close by, having a crush on Akemi and not knowing how to deal with his feelings for Mizu. He's a sport jock but his hips scream bisexual. A good old three people modern AU - Uni/young adult setting situationship.

Extra bonus point if Ringo is the sweetest het best friend. He's just a big guy. He's their big guy. Fuck around and find out, they dare you.

[the-fae-tricked-me]

I was bullied literally my ENTIRE LIFE and not ONCE did I EVER think about nor want to kill or harm anyone no matter how badly I was treated. This is bullshit

someone: hi

me: did you know the narrative that school shooters in the US are all bullying victims is false and originates from inaccurate coverage of one of the most infamous school shootings, the columbine shooting? in reality the columbine shooters were reactionaries who isolated themselves deliberately and followed an ideology that positioned them "above" the rest. so, a lot of school shooters are actually ideologically motivated rather than revenge motivated. no one knows this and the media paints these murderers as victims. do you want to know what the columbine effect is? also I have a lot to say about "stranger danger" as a conservative fear campaign to promote the isolated nuclear family

[the-fae-tricked-me]

[the-fae-tricked-me]

I really think they need to start teaching kids in schools that most blind people can see a little bit, most deaf people can hear a little bit, and most wheelchair users can walk a little bit. And they are still disabled.

[the-fae-tricked-me]

If you'll excuse me I'ma go scream in the corner like a big fucking gay

dog walker ellie who’s neighbor’s golden retriever tugs her right over to you, excitedly wagging his tail and saying hi. you, in your workout attire prepping for a jog reach down to pet him. taking out your headphones and looking up at the disheveled girl sweatily trying to pull him away. “i’ll give you a treat if you come this way. just go this—no this way.”

she looks down at you with defeated eyes. “sorry, he does this thing where he has to stop and say hi to every pretty girl he sees. then he doesn’t wanna leave.” she laughs. “i don’t blame him.”

and now you feel your face growing hot because that was entirely too fucking smooth and she’s just looking at you with a cocky half smile, finally steering him in another direction with a treat. “can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

[the-fae-tricked-me]

[the-fae-tricked-me]

Now THIS is worth getting drafted for

my friend took in a stray and she’s the cutest kitty ever but he named her oil so whenever he sends a picture of her me and my other friends look like we’re roleplaying as the US military

[the-fae-tricked-me]

BG3 fans when Larian Studios adds more hugs and kisses to the game:

[the-fae-tricked-me]

SIR??? SIR!!!!! AHHHHHH

I don’t think this movie could have been more perfectly catered to me than if I had manifested it into existence like a tulpa

[the-fae-tricked-me]

thinking about her

[the-fae-tricked-me]

AYE YO YALL GOTTA FUCKIN READ THIS—!!!!!

Sweetening the Deal (teaser)

Oh god, OK, AHHH, I'm nervous to post this because it's a teaser for something a little ambitious for my exp level with fanfiction, but here we go:

This is basically a retelling of meeting Haarlep in the boudoir and being devastatingly horny for him. The full chapter will be about your subtle attraction to Raphael and indecisiveness around both accepting his deal and stealing the hammer. *screams in wanting to say more but can't give too much away* Pls enjoy.

Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI

Pairing: Haarlep (he/them pronouns) x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Suggestive situations, Anxiety, Lewd descriptions of cambion anatomy, Veins

Wordcount (sample): ~800

~

Upon entering the boudoir, your heart rattles with fear and excitement. The air inside is wet and heavy, drenched in the aroma of rosewood. The source, a uniquely large bath, greets you with fragrant glistening waters at the center of the room. Its tiled edges are peppered with flickering candles and throw pillows arranged in little nests to lounge in. Silver platters of fresh fruits and ceramic dishes filled with bath soaps and oils also decorate the perimeter of the pool.

You spot some particularly soft looking bath towels, more Tethyrian stitching no doubt. You walk further into the boudoir toward them, already opening your travel bag to make room for another pilfer.

 “A lost ♪ little mouse-”

Your muscles turn to stone. That voice…

“-is running ♫ through the house~”

Your eyes find ‘Raphael’ in his cambion form, wrapped in a tight leather harness that leaves little to the imagination. His form lies on the master bed lazily with his legs spread wide.  

“Raphael?” you choke out. Your eyes just barely treading water above his waistline.

It had been a long time since you’d seen him in his fiendish form, ages it feels. But the memory is potent. It left you in awe - his towering stature, sinister wings, and crown of striking horns – it’s all here in front of you again. In the same room now instead of intrusive daydreams.

The alluring creature replies:

“Raphael?~ Ha! No, no, no,” his form grins with calm delight. “I am Haarlep. Raphael’s personal incubus, glamoured to model his appearance.”

The fiend’s voice has the same likeness to Raphael’s, but its intonation dances delicately on each syllable spoken. Different from the commanding tone you’ve come to know. Their face undoubtedly resembles his, but their cheekbones are higher and forehead creases thinner.

The only thing left to compare was, well, incomparable, for more reasons than one. You had no way to reference the rest of Raphael. But judging from the other characteristics you’d observed… the rest of his body can’t be too dissimilar from the one lounging in front of you.

His muscles are accentuated with suggestively placed ridges on his waist and thighs. Obscenely swollen veins scrawl beneath his skin. A particularly large vessel punctuates the flesh beneath his navel and disappears underneath his leather hemline. His limbs are strikingly long and thick, gracefully draping over the silky bedspread. Grand red wings form a canopy behind him and his devilish tail laps the surrounding air with amusement. The image is surreal and… obscene.

He reminds you of an idealized sculpture, one you might imagine yourself lavishing with adorations. You feel saliva retreating from your mouth. Anxiety (or is it anticipation?) trickles down your stomach when you realize where your thoughts are heading.

Before you can respond to Haarlep’s introduction, they continue:

“And you… I know who you are,” they sneer. “Let’s have a little privacy, shall we?”

With a snap of their fingers, your companions evaporate into red embers and your panic rises.

“Don’t fret, they’re just outside the boudoir. I’d like to devote my full attentions to you, pet.” They lean forward and ask, “And so I ask, why~ have you come here, little thief?”

You muster composure. “For the Orphic Hammer,” you grind out.

“Is that so?” Haarlep’s expression opens and they tilt their head to the side. “Intrepid, indeed,” they seem to say to themselves.

“Raphael would be very… discontented if you were to take such a priceless artifact,” they tut. “Though I’m sure you would survive his wrath. He himself has been quite taken with your resilience.”

Although the words are a compliment, they hiss through their teeth with wicked spirit.

“Well, maybe he should have just given it to me if that’s the case.” Pent up disdain leaks from your reply. ”Rather than dangling my home’s safety over my head.”

“The master being withholding from his favorite client? How naughty indeed~” they coo. “But I think I may have a solution for you – if you’re willing to do something for me.”

“Let’s hear it,” you say.

“Play with me,” he purrs through a smile. “Your clothes – take them off.”

Your resolve wobbles. The fact that a vehement ‘No’ doesn’t leave your mouth is… unsettling.

Are you insane? Are you really considering this? Maybe it’s the thrill of being unsupervised. Maybe it’s because you’ve truthfully been a bit lonely. Opportunities for more fitting companionship have been all but thrown into your lap from day one of your journey, and yet…  

Maybe,

if you’re really honest, it’s because you are a moth and the devil is a candle.

~

❥ TY for reading!!! I hope to post the full chapter this week :)

NOTE: some of this sample may change in the full chapter release

#Haarlep fanfic #Haarlep fanfiction #Haarlep bg3 #Haarlep incubus #BG3 fanfiction #Haarlep smut #well not yet but you know where it's going #i promise you won't be disappointed #teaser #Bg3 House of Hope Boudoir #Haarlep x Fem!Reader #Haarlep x Reader #eventually Raphael x Reader #Sweetening the Deal

[the-fae-tricked-me]

Well,  now that i’m on a Liara kick.  Here’s a list detailing whether Liara is Renegade or Paragon or Renegon and a list of her ruthless moments:

ME 1,   PARAGON : –   liara is shelted in me 1,  but do to her own.   she’s socially awkward because it’s the start of her career as an archeologist.   the liara in this game is very simply dr. liara t’soni.   her personality shift from me 1 to me 2 absolutely did not come from anywhere and it’s canon in my world that shepard (the reason WHY up to your shepard.  whether it’s specifically because she’s benezia’s daughter or just because shepard wanted her on the team)  brought liara along to fight benezia.   the benezia that liara encountered was not her mother.   at all.  that’s the start of trauma number one.   please bare in mind this is one of the first insistences of indoctrination and liara witnessed it first hand,  on her own mother.  liara from that moment out was absolutely 100% in finding a way to end what was happening.   there was no turning back.   the socially awkward brand new archeologist is now a seasoned veteran with a whole lot of anger over what happened.  

ME 2,  RENEGADE : –   ‘i’ll flay you alive,’   needs really no other explanation. –   the comic i’m considering an me 2 timeline too and she beat up a whole floor of aria’s mercenaries.   aria legitimately praises her for it.   if aria thinks it was badass,  then it was definitely renegade.  –   going to cerberus to bring back shepard is actually quite selfish and renegade.   especially since shepard loathes cerberus.   i know this,  she knows this,  but we all also know it was 100% better for the whole damn galaxy   …   and it kept shepard’s body out of collector’s creepy claw hand things.   –    tela blows up a whole building to try and kill liara,  it doesn’t work and liara doesn’t give one shit about anyone else in that building except tela and the one salarian that had data or something.   she doesn’t stop to help anyone else. –    legit left shepard on the floor without so much as a glance to chase after tela.   the same shepard she wanted alive again,  lmao.  –    no matter the situation on how the hostage goes,  whether it ends up badly or not.   liara also doesn’t bat an eyelash after that and once again goes straight after tela.  –    ‘and kill anyone that tries to stop us’ –    finally!   the previous shadowbroker’s death,   while it was one of the only few options they had,   was actually quite horrific.   it’s just me without much any gore.  he was literally… obliterated,   just melted alive. 

ME 3,   RENEGON : –   there’s a lot in me 3 and i’m getting lazy,  but the biggest is liara’s entrance itself.   that was an execution of cerberus agents.   there isn’t a cerberus agent out there that’s just going to be captured and put in jail by liara.   they’re all just going to be killed at this point and that’s pretty ruthless. 

[the-fae-tricked-me]

i love one (1) trilogy💜💜💜

[the-fae-tricked-me]

[the-fae-tricked-me]

until I come back alive

summary. in which you come back injured from a particularly unlucky battle, and Astarion realizes his feigned affections for you are not feigned at all.

warnings. angst, fluff, Astarion being bad at feelings

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. this is super long omg ALSO TYSM for the love on my previous fic! It was my first post so I didn’t realize more than like two ppl would see it!! Kind of scary but also I can write more astarion so oh well 🙏

“The way they look at you is different from the way they look at us.”

Astarion raises a brow at this, glancing at Karlach who adjusts a log in the campfire paying no heed to the flickering flames brushing against her skin. She smiles to herself, genuinely, and he questions if she’s finally gone mad.

“So have you said the big ‘L’ word yet?” she asks excitedly, turning to him with a big grin. He shifts away from her, the increasing heat radiating off her body but she doesn’t seem to care, too busy staring at him expectantly.

“The what?”

“You know! The ‘L’ word,” she says the last part in a hushed whisper, as if it’d be a sin for anyone else to hear. Occasionally it baffles him how childish she can be, though he’d never voice these concerns out loud considering she could snap his poor body in half if she really wanted.

He also knows that she’s more emotionally capable in how she approaches these relationships (though one could argue it’s just innocence)—in ways he’s lost over the past 200 years. Though, he makes an effort to shove these thoughts to the deepest corners of his brain for the sake of his own sanity.

“If you’re speaking of ‘love,’” He emphasizes it with a strange accent. “No. I have not. Nor have they.”

She appears puzzled. “Why not?”

He sighs irritably, bringing a hand to adjust the cuffs on his hand. “Must everything be put bluntly? So glaringly obvious?”

“You love each other, don’t you?”

At this, he falters, just the slightest before plastering his usual grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Love is a wide spectrum, dear. Tav and I are whatever they want us to be.”

A late night partner would be the most positive thing he could refer you to. A fling, an amusement, or whatever words people described the arrangement between the two of you as, he didn’t care for it. He’d given himself to you, and you to him—-physically, at least, and you’d seem more than content with it. In return, he received protection, which was a sufficient payment in return for his hushed words of affection and kisses. A fair trade, he deemed.

Sure, he could’ve chosen anyone else in the camp. But he’d seen the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him, surely dazed at his flirtatious tendencies. You’d been an easy target. A survival tool.

And yes, maybe he’d played with your innocent feelings, but could you really blame him? He’d given you the nights of your life, for something so simple in return. It was a transaction.

Karlach waves a dismissive hand which brings him back to the present, propping herself on her arm behind her. “Life’s too short for that bullshit. Either you love someone or you don’t.”

“Fortunately for me, I have all of eternity,” he snorts. “Unless I were to suddenly lose the unwanted visitor inside my head and step into the sunlight, I’ll be here to watch the world fall and rise a dozen times over I’m afraid.”

“But they don’t,” Karlach frowns. “Tav doesn’t have eternity.”

He ignores the way his jaw clenches. He’s afraid, he thinks, of losing the freedom he’s just gained.

“Did you call me?”

Both the vampire and tiefling turn to your voice, where you stand blankly with an armful of logs clutched to your waist. Karlach opens her mouth to respond, but Astarion is faster.

“Nothing, darling. Just answering a few curious questions from Karlach here.”

“Oh,” you blink at him, shrugging before setting the logs beside the fireplace. “Well, Gale, Shadowheart, and I are going to the village across the forest tomorrow morning to check on the goblins appearing there recently. Won’t be back till noon so don’t wait up.”

“Don’t worry,” Karlach laughs. “I’ll keep the camp in order while you’re gone. If Astarion tries to bite Lae’zel, though, his fate’s inevitable.”

He rolls his eyes, opting to stand from his spot and take your hand. “Come along, darling. Any longer near this damned fireplace and my skin may melt.”

You nod with a smile, waving at Karlach before you follow him into his tent without a word of protest.

Easy, he thinks. Too easy.

He soon finds himself staring up at you from his place, laying his head on your lap as you read through a few scrolls you found throughout the day. He clicks his tongue and you look down, offering that sickeningly sweet smile again. “What’s wrong?”

“You have the most handsome person in this camp on your bloody lap and you want to read?”

You snicker at this, setting the scroll down beside you. “What do you suggest I do? Worship the very eyelashes on your face?”

“My body deserves much more praise than just the eyelashes.”

“Hm…” you pretend to be in thought. “That mole on your face is very obvious too.”

He gasps, immediately shooting upward as he grabs at his own face. “Tell me you’re lying.”

Your laughter rings throughout the tent, airy as you pull his hand away from his face. “I’m kidding, mostly.”

He stares at you as you recollect yourself, finding himself gazing at you far longer than he’d like to admit. Quickly, he adjusts, fiddling with the hand mirror he always keeps under his pillow as he watches you through it. “Karlach spoke of something ridiculous today. She said you were in love with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he rolls his eyes. “That woman lives in a fairy tale I tell you. How she went through 10 years in Avernus is beyond me.”

There’s slight hesitance in your voice, and if he’d not learned your body language early on in your arrangement, he wouldn’t have even noticed it. “Astarion, have you ever been in love?”

He pauses at this, meeting your eyes head on now. There’s a heavier thickness in the air between the short distance between the two of you, and he immediately gauges what you want him to say. A lie readies itself at the tip of his tongue, his gaze searching yours for whatever fantasy that lives behind them.

Instead, your expression is blank. He finds nothing.

“No.” He’s not sure why he responded honestly, but it’s too late to take it back. “Have you?”

You look to the side. “I’m not sure anymore.”

“Anymore?” He shifts his head when you turn your chin further away, avoiding confrontation. “Has someone captured your impenetrable heart as of late? How intriguing—do tell.”

His teasing tone drops when you don’t smile at his usual antics. He’s not stupid—far from it. He knows you’ve begun to fall for him. It’s an obvious result from the 200 years of instinctive flirting he has tucked away in what remains of his soul, and it’s what he intended. What he needed.

The more enraptured you are, the longer he has protection.

He gently tilts your chin toward him, his fang visible through the grin that stretches across his face. “Tell me, pet, do you love me?”

Your eyes drop to his lips. “Do you want me to?”

A bunny caught in the fangs of a fox. It would be so easy to indulge—to go as far as to make you nothing but a puppet he toys with for his own personal gains. He can sense the way your finger twitches, itching to lace them with his own, and the crueler side of him forces his hand to stay put.

He wordlessly leans toward you, his lips grazing against the side of your neck. You shiver at the touch and he smiles wickedly to himself, drinking in the gasp that escapes you when he tilts your neck to the other side, where he usually drinks.

He doesn’t even have to ask. “Just—be gentle. Please.”

“Of course.” He unhinges his jaw, ready to plunge the knives of his teeth into where the sweet liquid gold rushes to your face, his shoulders finally relaxing when—

“I love you,” you whisper under your breath.

He stops.

Though unsure why, he freezes. Completely and utterly freezes.

“Astarion?”

He pulls away slowly, staring at you for a long moment before offering another smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You look exhausted, my dear. I think that’s enough for tonight.”

“But you didn’t even feed?”

“I can handle myself, darling, as much as I appreciate your worries,” he stands and holds the flap of the tent open, practically a silent demand for you to leave.

He should be ecstatic. Gleaming with joy from being offered a drop of your blood, but instead, he feels knots forming in his stomach. And the longer he watches you, the worst they seem the get.

Hurt flashes across your face and he ignores the sudden tightness in his chest.

“Okay, well,” you say, stepping out hesitantly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

And as he lies wide awake in the middle of the night with nothing to accompany him but his own thoughts, he finds that all of them are overruled by his endless need for warmth. Not just anyone’s but the one he’s become accustomed to the past few months. No matter how much he curls up in his bedroll, all he can feel is the chill of his own body.

And he hates it more than he expected.

——

By the time he awakens, you’re long gone.

He’s rather productive. Taking walks, gathering supplies, catching up on his reading, he refuses to sit and lie around as the others await for you and your companions to return from the goblin village.

He even entertains sitting through one of Karlach’s dances, which somehow ends up being more entertaining than he’d imagined. While she didn’t fall flat on her face (which he admittedly looked forward to), it burnt through time regardless.

The peace is broken when he hears footsteps rushing toward the camp. He’s memorized everyone’s intervals when sprinting or pacing, so he’s quick to identify Gale and Shadowheart. He listens keenly for your own footsteps.

There are no third pair of footsteps at all.

Shadowheart stumbles into the camp, in a panic compared to her usual self, as she points toward a spot on the ground and snaps at Gale to put something down.

He only sees when she moves out of the way that this something, is rather someone.

You’re writhing in pain, eyes shut in an unconsciousness that’s surely preferable to what you’re feeling. You’re sweating, groaning in your sleep and everyone is immediately rushing to you.

His face would’ve gone pale, if it weren’t for the fact that he was already as ghostly as a sheet.

“What happened,” Lae’zel demands in place of him, and he opts to mindlessly push Gale to the side, who doesn’t say a word from the expression on Astarion’s face. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but from Gale’s reaction, it’s better he never know.

“Damned poison arrows,” Shadowheart hisses. “I’m completely out of magic for today. I need to make an antidote by hand before their condition gets any worse than it already is.”

Astarion brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek. The creases between your brows soften for the slightest moment before they’re back again.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are arguing again—something about how one thing would’ve happened if another thing hadn’t. He’s not even sure what they’re arguing about, but in an instant, rage flickers in his chest.

“Do something!” He snaps, suddenly making the camp go quiet. “Or are you just going to stand there and watch them die?”

He suddenly feels a hand grab his, and his eyes shoot down to see your own. Even in your sleep, you reach out to him. Even in the deepest part of slumber, you search for him. It makes him feel like the shittiest and luckiest person alive, especially as the your hurt expression from last night flashes in his mind.

“Help them,” the words spill out against his will, his tone breaking down into something more desperate. “Do something. For God’s sake, anything.”

In the moment, he doesn’t care about protection. He doesn’t give a shit about any of that because the second he’d seen you in genuine pain, it was all he needed to completely forget about the stupid reasons why he approached you in the first place.

All he cared about was your life.

Everyone glances at one another knowingly, but even Lae’zel doesn’t break the silence. Shadowheart spares him a furrowed glare before rushing to gather the antidote.

You only awake hours later. Certainly during the middle of the night, to the ceiling of a tent that’s certainly not your own. You slowly urge yourself to sit up, a pounding headache ringing in your skull, but your worries about it vanish when you hear his voice.

“Quite the nap, darling.”

You snap around to see him on the other side of the tent, albeit only a few feet away from how crunched it is. Fascinating, he thinks, that even with your disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes, he finds you more beautiful than before. “What happened?”

“You nearly died.”

“…how?”

“Poison,” he’s fiddling with his dagger, refusing to look at you. He can’t. In fear of what he might say. “Caused a reasonable panic too. Seems like our companions have grown more attached to you than anyone’s expected.”

You purse your lips, and he quickly mortifies at the exceeding need to part them with his own. You don’t seem to notice. “You too?”

“I was certainly worried our esteemed leader may kick the bucket earlier than anticipated, yes.”

“No, I mean,” you scrunch your eyes sheepishly, and he thinks it’s adorable. Gods he must be going insane. “Have you…grown attached?”

He raises a brow. “You just woke up from a life threatening experience and that’s what piques your interest?”

Your cheeks turn a shade darker. He wants to touch them. “I just…I was worried all day. About us. I got too distracted and of course, that’s on me, but one of the goblins took advantage and—“

He wants to climb into a coffin, guilt eating away at what remains of his organs. But when you fidget with the ends of his bedroll blanket, he can’t tell if his stomach is churning from shame or something else.

You stop, close your mouth, then open it again. “When I passed out, I was just thinking about how I would hate for us to part like that. I didn’t want last night to be our last moment.”

“No,” he says firmly. “While you’d been asleep, I’ve had quite some time to think, darling. And more time to wallow in my self pity for being stuck with an actual weirdo. I mean, do you hear yourself? Worrying about such a stupid encounter while on your deathbed? You should’ve been cursing me with all the strength you had left if you were going to think about me of all people!”

You smile a bit, and he grits his teeth at the way his throat goes dry. “I’m just glad.”

“For getting poisoned?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “I’m glad I didn’t scare you off by telling you I loved you. I was afraid we wouldn’t talk like this anymore.”

His body wills him to freeze up again. To push you away, and to force the fantasy that his feelings towards you were nothing but manipulative. That you were nothing but a way to survive to him. But no, he couldn’t stand such cowardice any longer. Not after nearly losing you.

You offer him a pathetic laugh. “I don’t expect you to say it back, nor for you to feel the same way. I just—felt like you needed to know. It doesn’t change anything between us I hope. It just felt wrong to keep it to myself any longer and the way you reacted just made me regret it so much-“

He wraps his palm in front of your mouth, his other hand pulling you closer to his side in an instant. With your faces inches apart, he sighs irritably. “As much as I’d like to keep hearing your face, I can’t stand its contents any longer I’m afraid.”

He lowers his hand, staring straight at your wide eyes as he narrows his own. “I do. Like you, I mean. A lot more than I’d like to admit, quite frankly.”

You blink as if you’re staring at a miracle.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles with a scoff. “I’ve had these feelings for a while now, I just didn’t wish to face them. When you said that to me yesterday, I just didn’t know how to respond, and for that, I am sorry. But losing you—I’m not sure what I would have done, but it’s certainly not a pretty sight.”

Your eyes soften and he’s certain he can lose himself within them for years. “I’ve never heard you sound so—sincere.”

He raises your knuckles to his lips, keeping them close even as he speaks. “I approached you out of necessity, I’ll admit. But it seems you’ve grown on me in a way I haven’t experienced since I’ve turned into a spawn. What you are to me—it’s difficult to describe.” He pauses. “Sometimes, I can still feel my heart beating with you.”

As your fingers brush against the side of his face, he swears he can feel it again. He almost feels warm, maybe even safe. And he’s sick and tired of denying himself of your embrace when death is around every corner.

You’re soon curled up into his chest, with his chin atop of your head. He’s not sure how much time passes—maybe hours, or even days as he continues to observe your face, committing each and every detail to his memory. And when your breathing steadies, falling into deep slumber, he finally has the courage to whisper the words against your hair.

“I love you.”