Tags: Ashveil x gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort, definitely not canon-compliant, but I wanted to write something where the shadow inside of him isn't entirely malevolent; it basically acts like a puppy for Ashveil's darling
CW/TW: mentions of blood/injury, tight spaces, this could be considered soft/safe vore, you have been warned
Synopsis: Ashveil mentions a way to get his hunger under control for a little while, and you want to help him. While he's 100% sure that it would not harm you, it's obviously extremely weird and nerve-wracking, which is why he has never brought it up before.
AO3 Link
It's happening again. Clawing at his insides, desperate to break free from the nails holding it down like a mere insect in a collection, this ancient corpse still refuses to rest, and even less so in the arm of an old wolf. The Voracity is acting up again, and Ashveil is his own sacrificial offering to appease the beast. No matter how much blood he gives, how much pain, it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough to fill the void within him.
Well. Maybe something is. Or rather, someone.
Blinding him with the tiny light of his office, you open the door to the fridge, eyes wide and scared and so utterly sweet that it makes something inside him clench.
“Ash!” You cry, kneeling down next to the fridge so you can be at eye level with him. Instantly, your hands cup his cheeks, looking into those eyes that bear so much pain, even if they soften at the sight of you.
He tries himself at a smile, but only manages to wince. “Hey there, dear…”
“It's one of your episodes, isn't it? Shit, you should have told me –”
“Didn’t wanna worry you.”
“And yet here I am! Worried!” You scoff, tenderly wiping at a fresh cut on his face, likely stemming from his prosthetic scratching his cheek, if the claw marks on the inside of the fridge are anything to go by.
Every time this happens, you make him promise to tell you, so you can try to help, and every time, you only discover he went through an episode again after it is already over. How can you sit idly by when he needs you? How can you call yourself his love if you can't do anything for him? It's not fair. Why is he the one suffering, if he only ever wanted to help others?
Ashveil hasn't told you everything. You understand why, and you accept that it's for your own good. But when it comes to this – to something he has no control over, he feels just as helpless as you do.
Taking a deep breath, you stand up again. Even if your voice comes out like a broken croak, there is determination in it. “What do you need? If there's anything I can do for you – anything I can give you, please tell me.”
Don't. Don't offer yourself so sweetly, don't stick your head into the wolf’s mouth. Nothing good can come out of this. If you tempt him like this, he's only going to scare you away because, Aeons know, nobody would agree to this. Because of course there is something you can do. Of course there is. But he'd rather die than lose you.
For a fraction of a second, Ashveil's eyes flicker to the side, unwilling to meet your gaze. If there's something you've learned in your time with him, it's what that little gesture means.
“...spit it out,” you demand.
“My love-”
“Now.” Your tone leaves no room for discussion as you cross your arms in front of your chest, staring down at him.
Finally, Ashveil lets out a shaky breath. It's no use. The pain and hunger are wearing away at his resolve, and he finds himself blurting out the most horrifying sentence you could ever hear from his lips.
“I could… Devour you.” As soon as he sees the horror in your face, he quickly scrambles to his feet, taking your hands in his. He curses himself for being so bad with words. “Not as in- like, kill you-”
He really isn't making it better. Dumb, dumb old wolf!
Ashveil bites his tongue, before he tries again. “My ‘shadow’ makes me hunger. It demands that I fill the void in me… That I feed it with malice and injustice.” Then, his tone softens. Softly, his clawed hand rubs over your knuckles. “But it also hungers for… love, for warmth. For something that I can call mine.”
You are frozen in place. This is more than he has ever told you about his affliction, and you can tell that the words only leave his mouth reluctantly. And devouring you? …What have you gotten yourself into?
“My shadow only consumes sin. It could never hurt you,” he insists. “So it's less about devouring and more about… knowing you're in there, and that I can protect you.” Ashveil clears his throat, grey eyes falling to the floor. “It is entirely safe, I promise. Yet I know that it's horrifying to even think about. Which is why I've never brought it up until now.”
Protection? That's the last thing on your mind when you think about a leviathan swallowing you. Still… you can see Ashveil's weary expression. See the exhaustion in him, the pain, the hunger, even if he tries to hide it. The way his hands shake in yours tells you enough. If he promises that it's safe… if it really helps him…
You gulp. “What will happen to me, once you swallow me?”
Look at you. The first to die in a horror movie. The innocent little lamb, happily trotting towards the executioner.
Ashveil perks up at the question, expecting shock, fear, disgust, a simple rejection, in the best case. He didn't expect you to want to know more, let alone actually consider it.
He clears his throat. “Well… once I swallow you, you'll be inside… me,“ he explains, though he struggles with what that means. “My shadow will hold onto you, until I feel better… or until you want out.”
“How will you know if I want out?”
Amidst the horror of this situation, his soft chuckle feels like a ray of sunshine peeking through clouds. “Don’t worry, dearest. The beast can taste everything inside of it. It will know how you feel, what you want, need…”
Letting your hands drop, he goes to wrap his arms around your body, signing softly. You don’t even know all the emotions currently swirling inside of him, the exhaustion mixing with worry and yet it’s all permeated with the warmth of gratitude, with awe that maybe, just maybe, all the fear inside his heart was less warranted than he thought.
His voice is a soft grumble against your ear. “It knows how important you are to me. And I won't let it harm you.”
Feeling his warmth around you grounds you, the anxiety of finding him in this state and then being presented with this choice leaving you dizzy. You can smell the faint scent of iron lingering, clinging to his skin and mixing with the distinct smell of freezer burn. Somehow, you know that this is no solution. Just a temporary thing to keep him safe and sane.
“...okay.”
It’s better than letting him fend for himself in the tiny freezer.
Ashveil’s grip around you tightens, and you feel him gulp. He takes your chin, making you look into his silver eyes, that pink tint overtaking them completely. “Are you sure? Because I won't let you do this unless you're absolutely certain.”
A deep breath. “I’m sure,” you nod, your hands finding his wrists, desperate for something to ground you. “I trust you.”
It makes him choke a bit. Despite the adrenaline he smells on you, you’re still willing to do this. Insanity, this is what all of this is, yet the way his gaze darkens and his breath grows heavy, he can’t deny how much he craves this. Aeons, he feels feral.
“...alright.” Giving in feels like the first breath after almost drowning. “Ready?”
You nod.
With the gentlest touch, Ashveil grabs your cheeks, pulling you closer into a kiss. Somehow, his lips always feel soft, even if he definitely doesn’t take care of himself well enough. The kiss is loving, reassuring, consolidating his promise to keep you safe. The more the kiss continues, however, the deeper it becomes, more passionate. Your lips are parted, letting his tongue slide inside your mouth, and it really feels like he wants to devour you. Small little feral groans and moans fill the air, a testament of what's really lurking beneath the surface.
Suddenly, you hear wet, squelching sounds come from underneath your feet, but Ashveil's grip is too strong to let you look down. You're scared, of course you are. Every creature is born with this instinct of self-preservation. Still, you do everything to fight it, because you want to help him. You need to help him. And so, instead of dreading what's to come, you close your eyes and wait for it to happen.
When your lips part, a giant maw engulfs you, and everything goes black.
What happens next is a mystery to both of you. One of his beasts devoured you, that's a fact. But how exactly you managed to get into him, or where you'd be, if they were to cut Ashveil open? That's an entirely different question.
Slowly, you wake up. The first thing you feel is the sheer warmth surrounding you, the humidity in the air. All around you, you feel something pressing against your body, warm walls that keep you there. When you open your eyes, you see nothing but darkness. Well, if you're inside of his… stomach? Arm? In any case, it would be weird if there were any light sources inside his body.
From the outside, Ashveil can feel you. Even if there's no visible change to him, he can feel you inside of him, filling that void that usually haunts him and threatens to tear him apart. Aeons, your aftertaste still lingers on his tongue… For the first time since he forced that cursed shadow into his arm, he not only feels peace – it's sheer bliss to have you inside of him.
Tentatively, Ashveil speaks up. “Can you hear me, little one?”
Wherever you are, his voice sounds muffled, words too far away to understand. Yet being able to hear him at all already calms your racing pulse somewhat. At least, you know that you're alive, and that this isn't some sort of purgatory. Uhm. You think. You doubt that he'd hear you if you were to answer, so instead, you tentatively try to explore what's around you, only relying on your other senses. Thankfully, there's no smell of bile or leftover takeout slowly dissolving in acid filling the air. In fact, you can't smell anything at all. Perhaps any food he consumes is assimilated instantly? Or you’re not in his stomach after all?
Slowly, you start to feel around your space. You're laying on something fleshy, encapsulated like a sardine in a tin, but you don't feel suffocated. It's more like being wrapped in lots and lots of blankets… This whole situation should weird you out more, so why was that the first comparison that came to your mind? Maybe you've really gotten used to living with and loving a beast.
Though Ashveil isn't sure what's happening, he knows that you're safe. He can feel you in there, can feel your steady heartbeat. Carefully, he lowers himself back into the fridge, writes a message to Mr. N to not disturb him, and closes the door. He doesn't need anyone interrupting this moment. He wants to savor this properly. Wants to savor you, buried so deep in his core, where nobody can harm you.
Just when you're about to see if you can reach for your phone, the sudden touch of something brushing against your leg makes your heart skip a beat. Is- is there anything else in here?
That's when you suddenly hear it.
“Mine.”
It's clearly Ashveil's voice, yet it sounds like anything but him. The word isn't a physical sound, but instead a deep, possessive growl that reverberates inside your head. Soon, that voice is joined by many more, all of them sounding like him, yet you know that it must be the shadow in his arm borrowing his voice.
“Sweet.” / “Cute.” / “Love.” / “Tasty”
They chant all around you as you feel more things brushing along your body, until thick, powerful tendrils coil around your arms and legs and your torso. For a second, you're worried that they'll squeeze you, but they simply undulate along your body, feeling every inch of you.
“Mine,” it growls again, but this time, it sounds less like a threat, and more like a giddy animal purring. One of them brushes against your cheek, and it's akin to a pet nuzzling its owner.
“Stay?” / “Stay.” / “Stay?” / “Stay!”
…just what have you gotten yourself into?
Timidly, your hand raises, hoping that nothing bad will happen when you touch the tendril. “... I'm staying.”
And when those words fall from your lips, the tendrils tighten around you in a loving embrace, keeping you trapped in the weirdest hug you've ever experienced.
You sigh.
Every minute that you spend inside of him, Ashveil feels himself grow more and more tired. The violent spasms earlier drained his energy, and the added sensation of being sated only adds to his growing sleepiness. Like a wolf laying down to rest in his den after a long hunt, he can barely keep his eyes open, and frankly, he doesn't want to. You trust him – enough to now be inside of him. That alone fills him with so much love that he may just cry.
Similarly, with the way you're being surrounded by warmth from all sides, you can't help but feel incredibly sleepy despite your circumstances. Knowing that Ashveil is doing better, or at least so you hope, is bringing you a sense of comfort that only makes you feel all the more love for him. Realistically, you should be scared of this monster dwelling inside of him, holding you so tight. But how can you, when it's a part of him? When it wants you here, and needs you so?
Maybe you've really got a fucked up sense of self-preservation. Maybe you're just too trusting with this old wolf. But as you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, both you and Ashveil know that there's no other place you'd rather be right now.
Have this while I'm working on more Ashveil stuff! The heatwave snuffed out any brainpower I had so I'm gonna try to use the next few cool days to get something on the page...
Summary: HSR characters react to you asking them for a hug! (ft: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Boothill, Himeko & Aglaea)
GN!Reader, assumed romantic relationship
JING YUAN
• At first, he sort of chuckles at the request. He finds it a bit silly that you had to ask, though if you get upset at him or embarrassed that he laughed at you, he'll reassure you that he just finds it cute, and that's all.
• He'll lean back on his chair and open his arms for you with a closed-mouth smile, head tilted as he raises his eyebrows in a "well?" gesture.
"Come now, don't keep me waiting."
• Jing Yuan is quite cuddly, and he's comfortable, too. Something about him and the way he holds you is just so warm and soft.
• That being said, he prefers to be the one holding you. It doesn't matter how tall you are. He likes to hold you to his chest, smooth his hand up and down your back and be able to press gentle kisses on top of your head. Though he isn't opposed to being the little spoon from time to time, it just isn't his first choice.
• Also, you've all heard his voice. Specifically the English dub. Now imagine it ever softer, lower as he speaks to you whenever he has you in his arms.
• If you're asking him for a hug because you need comfort, he's very good at that as well. He isn't too forthcoming with his own feelings, but he'll encourage you to be with yours.
AVENTURINE
• Another one who'll chuckle a bit at first, but it's more of a growing smile on his face and a single little laugh before he invites you closer, telling you of course you can have one, and he's oh-so-flattered you asked him.
• I actually don't see Aventurine as a particularly physically affectionate person. He doesn't dislike being touched, especially not by you, but he just usually won't be the one to initiate anything. He shows his love primarily through gift-giving, teasing and actually letting his walls down and being genuine around you. Which will still shine through even as he hugs you.
• He'll assume you're asking because you want comfort, and the way he goes about that is to gently remind you that he loves you and to try and take your mind off of it. It's a cute, but kind of funny mix between genuine (slightly awkward) words of affirmation and completely unrelated conversation topics and he flip-flops between the two.
• Aventurine isn't the best with feelings, so he lets you decide if you want to talk about it, but he won't bring it up himself.
• His hugs are pretty loose. He doesn't much like to feel "squeezed" in tight embraces, so he won't do it to you either unless you ask him to hold you tighter. He also kind of sways as he holds you, and spends most of his time fiddling with your hair.
• In an attempt to cheer you up, he may also suddenly promise you a gift of some sort to surprise you with. A new phone, accessories, a complete closet overhaul, or even a vacation somewhere, it depends.
BOOTHILL
"Y'sure?"
• He'll do it, but he jokingly calls you weird for it.
• Admittedly, he's not a very good hugger, through no fault of his own. His body is metal. There's not much he can do to make this a more comfortable experience for you.
• This also means he doesn't get much enjoyment out of hugging either; he can't feel it. Still, that's not to say he doesn't like holding you, if just for the experience of being close to you. And if hugging you really does comfort you despite his cyborg body, then he's happy to do you a service.
• Despite it not being very comfortable, his hold on you is surprisingly nice. He'll keep one hand on your head and the other on your back, his chin rested against the top of your head. You can definitely tell that he used to be a father by the way he hugs you, if that makes sense. It feels very protective.
• He'll ask if there's anything you want to talk to him about, and if there is, he's a perfect mix of comforting and funny. You can tell he takes your feelings seriously even if he cracks jokes throughout. He just wants to make you feel better, and he'll celebrate a bit if he makes you smile or laugh.
• I think that if his partner is a very affectionate person, he'll come up with some kind of workaround so they don't end up in pain from having to hug metal all the time. He'll put blankets over himself first so you can make yourself a bit more comfortable, and things like that.
• By the way, pray it isn't hot out today or you're in for a painful experience when he touches you.
HIMEKO
• She and Jing Yuan are probably the best huggers on this list.
• Upon hearing your request, she'll drop whatever she's doing and beckon you over, taking you in her arms in a hug sent from heaven itself. Also because I know you were thinking it, yes, you can put your face in her boobs. She doesn't mind. It's okay trust me.
• She very sympathetically asks you if anything is wrong and reminds you that she's always here to talk to.
• Predictably, Himeko is a good person to go to when you need to be comforted. She's soft-spoken and a naturally comforting presence without even really trying to be, so even if you just want your mind to be taken off of something, just listening to her talk about anything at all is enough to relax the mind.
• This is likely to make you sleepy though, so if you fall asleep on her, she'll move you to your bed. She feels like it'd be an intrusion to sleep with you, but if you tell her you'd like her to stay, she'll start doing that instead.
• When I say she's an incredible hugger, there's only one real downside, and it's that she runs warm. Very warm. Like, hot. This is very nice when it's cold out - and not so great when warmer weather rolls around.
• Also her coffee is more likely to cause another breakdown than it is to cheer you up.
AGLAEA
• Aglaea is, in my opinion, surprisingly touchy in a relationship.
• I'm still unclear on if she's supposed to be blind in canon, but going with the idea that she is for a moment: Although she can sense everything around her with the golden threads, she likes to be able to "see" her partner in more detail. As in, through touching them.
• So, when you ask her for a hug, of course she will allow it. If she's busy at the moment, she'll gently ask you to wait until later.
• Honestly, it feels less like a hug and more like you're laying against her while her hands wander wherever they can reach, but it's quite comforting nonetheless. Maybe a bit ticklish.
• She'll talk to you throughout, ask if there was a reason you wanted this. Even as you speak, you'll feel her fingers glide over your skin, mapping out every feature that she's already "seen" on you a hundred times before. And she'll remind you, as she always does, that you are beautiful.
• She doesn't want to interrupt the moment, so if you two need to get more comfortable or if either of you desire a drink, she'll have her Garmentmakers do it. I like the idea of the mannequins delicately wrapping the two of you in a blanket, so neither you nor she have to lift a finger.
You’re minding your own business when suddenly Blade appears in your periphery, leaning against your doorframe and watching you through half-lidded eyes, head angled like he’s sizing up a piece of meat.
Not that it fazes you. “Oh, hi Bladie.”
The man grunts in lieu of greeting and shifts audibly so that his arm now supports him against the doorframe. He looks rather awkward, but his gaze is still boring into you like molten lava, and now you’re slightly unnerved. You stop what you were doing and swivel your chair around to face him. “Why are you-”
“Are you a construction worker?” he asks suddenly. “Because you are”—he pointedly plays with a loose bandage, pulling it taut over his wrist—“building.” His eyes never leave yours.
You stare at him for a beat before breaking the uncomfortable silence with, “…What?”
“I…don’t know. Silver Wolf said you would understand.” He looks at you expectantly. “So?”
“So, what?”
“Did it work?”
You shake your head, hapless. “I don’t know what emotions that should make me feel.”
“Silver Wolf said you would feel—what was the word—ah. Rizzed up.”
Sighing, you offer him a smile. “I think you should take less advice from Wolfie.”
“But you are rizzed up, aren’t you?”
You laugh and stride up to him, bringing him into a much-needed embrace.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “Just answer the question.”
Still grinning, you pat his head. “Yes, Bladie. For sure.”
The Stellaron Hunters were loud in their own ways. Silver Wolf filled every silence with the clicking of her games. Kafka spoke like every sentence was part of a script only she could read. Sam’s heavy footsteps echoed through the base like distant thunder and Blade, Blade carried silence like a weapon.
So maybe that was why the two of you fit together so naturally. You were quiet in a different way. Soft-footed. Patient. The type to sit beside someone for hours without demanding conversation. Most people found Blade intimidating, impossible to approach, but you never looked at him with fear. You simply existed beside him and somehow, that became everything to him.
At first, the others thought your relationship was impossible. Blade barely tolerated people. He disappeared for days, came back soaked in blood and exhaustion, and answered questions with grunts or cold stares. Yet whenever you entered the room, something in him eased.
Not softened completely, Blade would never truly become gentle in the way ordinary people understood, but the sharpness dulled around the edges. Kafka noticed it first.
“You know,” she hummed one evening, watching Blade silently wrap a bandage around your wrist after a mission, “you’re the only person he lets touch him without threatening violence afterward.”
Blade shot her a glare. You only blinked quietly at her before resting your head against Blade’s shoulder. The room went still. Because Blade froze. Not from anger. From uncertainty. Like he still couldn’t believe someone would choose closeness with him so easily.
Slowly, carefully, his hand moved to the back of your head. Protective. Possessive. Gentle enough that nobody else would’ve believed it if they hadn’t seen it themselves.
“Don’t move,” he muttered quietly.
You didn’t. Silver Wolf nearly dropped her console. Blade was not good with words. He never would be. But he learned your habits better than anyone. He noticed when crowds overwhelmed you and silently moved in front of you without asking. He remembered the exact tea you liked despite pretending he didn’t care. When nightmares woke you up, he would sit beside your bed in silence until your breathing steadied again.
Sometimes you wondered if Blade understood how much affection hid inside those tiny actions. Then there were moments like this. You sat together in the dim lighting of the Hunters’ base, your fingers lightly tangled with his. Blade rested with his eyes closed, your shoulder against his arm. Peaceful. Rare.
“You’re staring,” you whispered.
Blade opened one eye slightly.
“Just checking you’re still here.”
Your chest ached softly at the honesty in his voice. Because beneath the immortal swordsman, beneath the violence and grief and endless exhaustion, Blade loved with terrifying intensity. You squeezed his hand once.
“I’m not leaving.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then Blade leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against yours.
“Good.”
And in Blade’s world, that was practically a confession.
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