Opal x GN!Reader , BONUS: Lord Eshteross x GN!Reader
3. Wicked witches. Fearne, Imogen + Laudna x Fem!Reader
4. Candlelight confessions. Caleb x GN!Reader
5. Love potion. Ashton x GN!Reader
6. Pumpkin soup. Fearne x GNReader
7. Slow dancing in the dark.
Caleb x GN!Reader , BONUS: Ashton x GN!Reader
8. Another rainy day. Lord Eshteross x GN!Reader
9. Midnight feast. The Mighty Nein x GN!Reader
10. Dead leaves underfoot. Orym x GN!Reader
11. It's called my 'disguise'. Dariax x GN!Reader
12. Scary stories. Ashton x GN!Reader
13. Unfortunately, we're cursed. Caleb x GN!Reader
14. Visiting the haunted house. Laudna x GN!Reader
15. An unexpected kiss. Dorian x GN!Reader
16. Grave offerings. Bell's Hells x GN!Reader
17. Hold me, I'm scared. Dorian x GN!Reader
18. Masquerade ball.
Mollymauk x GN!Reader , BONUS: Dorian x GN!Reader
19. By the campfire. Imogen x GN!Reader
20. Blood smears. Fresh Cut Grass x GN!Reader
21. Moonlit walks. Mollymauk x GN!Reader
22. Whispers. Essek x GN!Reader
23. Under the oak tree. Kingsley x GN!Reader
24. Hellhounds. Chetney x GN!Reader
25. Illusion magic. Dorian x GN!Reader
26. Holy shrine. Caduceus x GN!Reader
27. The harvest festival. Orym x GN!Reader
28. Vampire bite.
Jester x GN!Reader , BONUS: Mollymauk x GN!Reader
29. Trick or treat. Cyrus x GN!Reader
30. Flickering shadows. Laudna x GN!Reader
31. Something's wrong. Lucien/Mollymauk x GN!Reader
For fics and updates about this October 2022 series, check out the #spooky season fic tag on my blog. Thank you to those who supported me with comments, reblogs and engagement both during and after this event xx
Bonus fics will be released and added to the masterlist over time
Hope you all had a lovely holidays. Here's a little extra gift from me to you. Hope you enjoy this tooth rotting fluff. 😘
Dorian Storm x reader (3) Mistletoe
The tavern is crowded. People sing and dance and play games. The atmosphere is filled with joy and revelry. Dorian would usually join in having no objections to the celebrations and finding it’s time to let loose again. Why is he holding back? Why can’t he stop the bouncing of his leg or tapping his fingers against the table when he isn’t holding onto his drink with a death grip? Well that’s quite simple. Of course the answer would be simple because ever since, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you much. Only times he has veered away is when his attention was called for by someone else, which he would be grateful for to make him feel less like some creep, or when he saw the lovely floral arch leading to the deck these tables are set at. Chetney might have made a comment about the craftsmanship for better or worse but he couldn’t care less about that. What Dorian does care about is the little branch hanging down from its apex just above the heads of whoever passes through. How could he not have noticed? He should have been more aware of his surroundings. By the winds, you kissed him and now he feels like some lovesick kid unable to think straight, think about anything but you.
But moments ago you were chatting about anything and everything, commenting on others you saw the moment you entered the tavern and how deep into their cups they already were, noting that the both of you would have some catching up to do after the past weeks of stress and finally allow yourselves to unfurl a bit. That was the agreement you’d come to; a fun evening without a care in the world. He wouldn’t be worrying about his brother. You wouldn’t be trying to do damage control for the effects of that black crown perched on your friend’s head. It was the perfect agreement. You’d been laughing, watching Dariax put on a show as the illustrious Tharla Starr and collecting quite the donations when a refill was in order. Together you’d move through the crowd arm in arm still giggling at the vocal-fry singing and rather good dancing in the background and how people were so enamoured with your friend.
You’d pass under that floral arch none the wiser, got some more drinks and turned to make your way back to the table. Dorian didn’t notice anything either. Not until you stopped him right under the archway. You looked up and there hung that little branch held by ribbons, clearly in sight. Dorian followed your gaze. Oh. His breath caught in that very moment, that realisation. It was just a silly little tradition, right? It’s worth only amounts to what people choose to believe. He’d hate to admit it but this is one tradition he would like to believe in. You did too. He only knows this by your response, but it remains unspoken even now so his mind would not accept it as a truth. You smiled, a somewhat awkward laugh escapes your lips. You leaned in, slowly, first to place your lips against his cheek. Just an innocent kiss between friends, right? Right?
That illusion was quickly shattered by the next. You had pulled back, only for him to behold the stars in your eyes, to enchant him and admit to himself the feelings he had kept at bay, be that for self-preservation, his own insecurities or something else entirely he could not identify. A breath finally escaped his lips as they parted slightly. You need not speak the words for he heard them in the air quite clear. You showed all the signs not even his insecurities can question. Your hand rises to cup his cheek, and he could’t help but lean into it, feel the warmth of your skin and the pure electricity that ran through it, sparking him to life but still was he too slow to take initiative. You’d pushed your lips against his and suddenly the world ceased to matter. Suddenly everything in life became irrelevant. There was just you and him, and that damned mistletoe above the both of you. Had he been completely lost he might not have remembered the drinks in his hands but you had pulled back before he could drop them. The noise came crashing back, the surroundings too. He was back again, and so were you. That little corner of reality that had been carved out exclusively for the two of you was reabsorbed by the cruel world but that doesn’t mean all those feelings ended. You’d grabbed onto his elbow to make way for some passing patron and guided him back to your table. He might have remained under that archway frozen in place, in thought had you not.
You’d sat him down and when he didn’t hand that drink to Opal she’d taken it herself. He’d not even heard her sassy remark. He’d not even noticed that she tried to talk to him and made an effort too and it was only you who’d stopped her from trying to slap him back to reality. You’d made your own attempt too and he turned into a blabbering fool likely incapable of forming a coherent sentence as that kiss replayed in his head over and over and over and over. Eventually you’d gone off to save Dariax from a rather persistent patron who would be quick to expose the dwarf for who he really is. After that you’d found your way to the dance floor, dancing with the aforementioned, and your mutual friends too. He watched you, couldn’t take his eyes off you and while he would love to have joined, his feet would not carry him there. He felt like a lead balloon upon a light breeze; doomed to fall. He had fallen. He’d fallen for you some time ago and now, he can’t push it under anymore. He remains here seated with you on his mind, as the music passes, the patrons do too. His friends come back and forth, for a breather, to share a drink and check up on him, and disappear again. He managed to stammer he was fine. He’d claimed maybe the drink had gotten to him a bit faster than he had anticipated and his hearty meal wasn’t so hearty after all but your brow rose in suspicion at that statement. You said nothing, thankfully. You did not expose him for the truth you knew; he only had one drink and the cup in his hands now, second drink still remained untouched. He had not taken a single sip. He made it a point to take one when you eyed him but almost choked on it.
Now the music calms down. Dariax’ got enough of the disguise and had excused himself with an extravagant goodbye from Tharla so he could return to his own self. Opal is gods know where. Cyrus seems to be flirting intensely with the barmaid who he keeps buying more and more drinks from to keep her attention. Things are as they should be again. You find your way back to the table drop yourself on the chair besides him. You’re closer than perhaps intended. Your legs brush against one another. Dorian feels heat rise to his cheeks for no particular reason. Not as you lean your elbow on the table and inspect him closely. You carefully unwrap his fingers from the cup and he realises how stiff they had gotten but the feeling melts away when your own brush along his palm. Again he can’t think straight. He almost forgets to breathe. There’s just you and him and nothing else, no one else. You’re in that corner of reality again, and everything else is just muffled background noise; insignificant.
“Dorian? Is everything alright?” You ask him. Your head tilts to he side and your concern for him, it almost drives him mad. You have no reason to be concerned, if only he could speak his heart.
“Yes.” He squeaks all too quickly in response. He clears his throat and repeats more assured but you don’t buy it.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No! No. No of course not. I’ve got no reason to lie.” He stammers. It’s not a lie in technicality but still very much omitting the truth. But then you give him one look and as per usual he comes crumbling, falling apart at the very foundations. His cheeks colour a dark shade of blue be that out of embarrassment for being caught or because of the currently turmoiling feelings.
“If this is about the kiss, it’s just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you-“ You begin but in this moment he regains control of his body, something within him triggering when he sees your eyes cast to the grain of the table, sees you fiddle with your fingers, and bite the inside of your cheek. He knows these the signs of your doubt, in yourself, in others and you don’t deserve to feel like that. He can fix that, he can fix it so easily because currently he is the reason for that doubt because he’s been all but catatonic for the whole evening. That’s not your fault. That’s not your problem.
“It means the world to me.” Dorian admits and has you stop in your tracks. All doubt and concern is dropped as your gaze shoots up to him, eyes wide a breath halting as whatever words you had stopped upon your lips. You look for any sense of insincerity, any kind of joking matter but there’s not. There never could have been.
“That’s- that’s quite the claim.” You’re taken aback, unsure what to say, what to think beyond the pounding in your chest reminding you you’re alive. You’re ecstatic. And then his eyes widen when he realises what he said.
“Oh, I didn’t mean- That’s a bit forward, isn’t it?” Dorian laughs awkwardly and panics and finds himself rambling. “It’s not that I didn’t like the kiss- If I’m quite honest, I can’t help but repeating it in my head- That sounds worse. Why. Why am I like this-“ He keeps going until your hands come to cup his face and pull him out of this stupor. He calms down a but when you urge him to.
Dorian knows what comes next. You‘d asked him and the words are a breath upon the wind, he’d replied in some affirmative manner that could not be mistaken in any way. He’d found his hand come to rest over one of yours, while the other drifted down to your waist, allowing you to more comfortably angle yourself to lean in halfway. He found it within himself to close the rest of the way, placing his lips against yours. This kiss, as perfect as the last was anything but unexpected in series of events but he could never for the life of him predict the feelings running through him now he has time to think, to let his mind run free and process every single thing, commit it to memory in every little detail properly. This kiss doesn’t end, not like the one before at least. Instead it deepens. Your lips move against his, your arms come to wrap around his neck, until your fingers settle among the ombre strands. You let him pull you closer, his hands running up and downy our sides slowly, tentatively, along your back, up your spine, until you’re inseparable. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect. And that all because of some mistletoe kiss. This might just be the beginning of a bright future.
As a fun character creation exercise, and to stop myself from creating more DND characters then I already have (I have like two for each class and there is absolutely no way I will ever be able to play them all) I like to craft characters for each campaign and sort of put them in the world. Exandria is such a wild and rich world that Matt has created and I like to enjoy and research it this way while also doing some character and writing practice. And I thought I might tell you about them!
The Legend of Vox Machina/Vox Machina
I had not reached the Briarwood Arc in my watch of Vox Machina prior to the series coming out so I did not know all of the details. I watched the Mighty Nein first so the only thing I really knew about Whitestone was the basics of Percy’s backstory. I knew the name Anna Ripley but nothing really about her. I honestly thought, given that Delilah is a witch and Sylas is a vampire, that Ripley might have been a werewolf or something but I was wrong. I thought Whitestone was missing a werewolf so I made one.
Alexandria Briarwood is the daughter of the fabled Briarwoods. She has been turned into a werewolf against her will thanks to her disobedience to her parents following their arrival at Whitestone (and the horrors that followed). Alexandria is a young woman with a strong sense of morals at least when natural laws are concerned. She grieved her father when the time came sure, but what her mother did was wrong. She broke the laws of nature and Alexandria didn’t like it. Not to mention what her parents did when they arrived in Whitestone. She cannot hide her feelings from her parents after that and as punishment, Ripley is employed and Alexandria is infected with Lycanthropy.
One night after that, Alexandria escapes the palace, desperate to leave the city but she stops in the square. She sees the state of the city and the state of the (pre-you know, that) Sun Tree. She sees the leafless tree that was so gorgeous when they arrived and something shifts in her. She can’t leave with good conscious. She knows she needs to do something. Keeper Yennen finds her shortly after and Alexandria is recruited into the resistance. She wears a hood at all times both to hide herself from guards and to keep her identity a secret from those who are not aware of who she is. Not everyone in the resistance needs to know that a Briarwood is among their ranks.
The resistance has the name Kestrel to refer to Cassandra De Rolo, they refer to Alexandria as Heron. Kestrels symbolize nobility and might among other things and herons usually symbolize patience and good luck.
Class wise, Alexandria is a human Order of the Lycan Bloodhunter, possibly with a Path of the Beast Barbarian multiclass
The Mighty Nein
If there were another member of the Mighty Nein from the very beginning, I wanted it to be another member of the Fletching and Moondrop circus. I was thinking about classes of the party as well and I thought that Bard would be an interesting fit with this group. However, I did not want it to be a basic, music themed bard. This idea coupled with all the importance of swords in this campaign, I thought a College of Swords bard would be interesting.
Averie Silvervale, a high elven fencer, performer in the great circus, friend of Yasha Nydoorin and Mollymauk Tealeaf. She is the first daughter of a noble family in Bysaes Tyl who left home when her parents tried to force her into the heir box, living a life on the road in the circus instead.
Crown Keepers
I haven’t quite been able to figure this group out yet.
Bell’s Hells
Marquet being such an interesting continent with jungles and deserts I felt a ranger not being in this campaign would be a shame. I also wanted to add to the pair of genasi within the group.
Serafina Petrona is a fire genasi Beast Master Ranger with a little coyote/desert wolf companion named King. She looks partially like an elf, given that her father is one. She travelled the deserts and jungles outside of Jrusar for a time before she took to busking with King in the streets of Jrusar after that.
The Ring of Brass
This group particularly is a little difficult as their story is only one episode in and is so incredibly new but the world is so interesting that I find it very difficult to curb the excitement to create a character within it.
I thought quite a bit about Deans of Magical Colleges. Only one of them is talked about within the first episode so as of right now I have an idea for another one. Evocation jumped out at me a little bit. I am unsure as of right now how these Deans operate, but I believe they may be in charge of those specific branches within the sorcerers university or some such school.
I imagine a Dean of Evocation might hold themselves as a more militaristic figure as opposed to some of the other schools of magic and the idea was interesting.
If I were to go this route, I believe that Simona Nesk, Dean of the College of Evocation would be a human Evocation Wizard. She would be a very stern and stalwart person dressed mostly in robust red robes.
I also entertained the idea of the College of Illusion as well. If I were to go this way, Yavia Valcyne, Dean of the College of Illusion would be a fairy Illusion Wizard. Yavia is a respected mage for her mastery of illusory magic but she also is a very carefree soul. This due in part to her fey nature, but mostly due to the fact that she is an artist. She views magic, her magic especially, is an art form and that notion would color much of how she carries herself.
God, can you just imagine how smug and amused Ashton would be realising someone has a crush on him?? And in comparison Dorian would get even more flustered by it than the person crushing on him???? My boys I love them :')
My favessss 🥰 I find it so hard to narrow down what I want in a partner omg. These two genasi are so different and yet I'm in love with both. I might make a "guess my type" post soon, let y'all help me XD
Happy Valentine's Day, my loves 💕 Whether you're happily single, ready to mingle, in a relationship or spending the day with friends, I wish you all clear skin, clear skies, and clear communication 💞
~ Poet
Realising Reader Has A Crush
Ashton
Despite being so smug, Ashton was actually a bit slow with realising you had a crush on him. They genuinely thought you guys were just really close friends. Buddies. Amigos. Ride or dies.
And they were chill with that, but one day, and probably at the most inconvenient moment, it all just made sense his opalescent skull.
Ashton had fallen flat on their ass after a fight, so you held out a hand for him to take, helping them stand. He must've tugged a little too hard because in a blink of an eye, you guys clumsily stood with your chests pressed against each other and noses barely touching.
And they noted the way your body language stiffened, and how your eyes flitted from them to literally anywhere else, and then it all just clicked. You watched a slow smirk spread across Ashton's face, and you knew that there was no going back now.
Such a tease. Oh my gosh, you might be crushing on him, but sometimes you wanna just wipe that knowing smile off of their face. Gives you the slyest looks from across the table when the party are sharing drinks, making your face warm and heart flutter.
And he knows this and abuses this newfound 'power' they have over you. Pulls you into their side when introducing the party to new allies and such, leans in close when you're sharing info with the group, gives you pecks on your cheek to see you squirm etc etc~
Wants to hear it from you that you have a crush on him and boy oh boy, if you wait it out for ages before confessing there's just gonna be more teasing until Ashton has decided enough is enough
Literally dips you in the middle of a brawl, one strong arm supporting your back in a way that you arch into them, the other cradling your face so that he s m o o c h e s you, and damn him, you can feel that same smirk that's been taunting you for ages.
And the bandits you guys were fighting pause like "o h, are we- are we interrupting y'all?"
Will pull away and promptly continue to break shit and bonk your enemies, leaving you high and dry, trying to recover from the kiss, but damn they do look hot doing what they do best 💚
Dorian
To be honest, he'd picked up on your crush fairly easy. Your soft, lingering touches and broader smiles directed at him... Anyone in the party could tell you were infatuated.
But sweet blue man was in complete denial, because what could you ever see in him pfffft, despite all the evidence of your romantic feelings for him were so obviously there.
But he didn't trust his judgement. He didn't want to assume you held him in that regard, in a romantic light. Even when Fearne oh so clearly spelt it out for him and Orym suggested that he try talk to you about it, he still wasn't convinced that he should confront you.
He didn't want to get his hopes up. Not with you. So when you approached him, his mind was running a mile a minute because it was too good to be true that this was actually happening. You stand before him, heart bare and vulnerable, and Dorian still can't believe his ears.
He tries to convince you that you are mistaken, holding his hands out to you in a defensive stance while chuckling nervously. He nearly stumbles as he backs away from you, and yet you continue to close the distance.
Bless this man. Take his face into your hands and cradle him as if he's as fragile as glass. You lean in until your foreheads gently press against each other. You can feel warmth radiating from him, his skin scalding to the touch. His cheeks flush as he looks away at something, anything, other than your face.
Tell him that you love him.
Simple as that.
As a bard, he lives and breathes poetry and flowery phrases. Give him reality, not fantasies that belong in songs, and he'll melt in your touch, a soft smile threatening his lips. He manages a hesitant laugh, and your voice joins him. It eases his nerves, despite his heart hammering in his chest.
He raises your knuckles to his mouth and he kisses them, and once he's done just please wrap your arms his neck and kiss him for real because wow this yearning is so darn sweet it hurts, and his eyes get a little glazed over and he insists he's not crying (okay maybe just a little), but he's grinning from ear to ear. And you're tempted to wipe his tears away and kiss that smile off his face.
Love your work! If your still in the blue bard feels could I possibly request Dorian confessing his real name to the reader? Thank you for blessing us with so much content ❤️
Baby blue bard boi deserves a kith :3
~ Poet
Notes: Just cozy soft fluff. Set early in Campaign 3. It's implied that Reader was part of the original Crown Keepers, and wasn't present for his name drop, but only vaguely implied. #AndThereWasOnlyOneBed #ButItWasTeeny #SoYouFindAnotherBed
"He Will Always Be You"
-> Dorian x GN!Reader
"Hey... hey, are you awake?"
"Mm..."
"Your leg-"
"Hm?"
There's a shuffle in the bed that jolts you out of your sleep, and you lift your head from the pillow slightly. The room is dark, and you squint your eyes in an attempt to distinguish the shadows and shapes in your field of vision. It's quiet, and with a lazy, defeated motion, you lay back down and curl into Dorian's side once again.
He's out cold when you rest your palm on the front of his shirt, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothing your newfound racing thoughts. His lips are parted ever so slightly, the soft inhale and exhale hardly loud enough to consider a snore. There's a smattering of freckles across his nose that you can barely make out in the dim lighting, but you begin to count them nonetheless, like stars across a blue canvas.
He's so pretty, is the only thought that crosses your sleep-addled mind as you reach across him and tuck in closer. Your eyelids soon grow heavy and flutter closed, a satisfied huff of air escaping your lungs. Slowly, slowly, you begin to give in to the warm embrace of the dark once more.
"Pssst." You frown and hide your face in Dorian's shirt. "Fearne?"
"Wha- what?"
"Your leg is digging into me a bit. Can- can you-?"
You fist some of the nightshirt tightly in your hand, your entire body tense and more alert than before.
It was bound to initially be awkward, sleeping in a bed together with Dorian when you evolved from friends to something more for the first time. It can take time to figure out boundaries, nighttime routines, and mutually comfortable positions. It's natural, but often a fun side of the other person to explore and understand. You both fell into a pattern, two people in love settling down after a day of busy events.
However -
"What, can I what?" Fearne's voice, thick with sleep, hisses slightly with irritation.
Even in the dark, you can imagine the sheepish, hopeful expression on Orym's face. "... Move?"
"Oh right, sorry. Old habit I guess."
Sharing a bed with both Dorian and your two other good friends makes a tight squeeze. But from what you've learned on your travels as a sub-party of the Crown Keepers, is that it is both safer and cheaper to all crash out on the same mattress and under the same covers. It became the norm to huddle close and share threadbare blankets on the road, easier to rent one to instead of multiple.
A night is only that; a few hours of comfort and composure, healing after travelling and skirmishes, and you're more than willing to share with your friends.
But with Fearne nearly hanging off on one edge of the bed due to her size, Orym hammocking between her legs and Dorian's, the air genasi squished in the middle, and you clinging onto his back so you yourself do not fall onto the cold floorboards below... you cannot help but fantasize about a spacious king-sized bed and a lack of late night pestering.
"... Dorian?" Your voice raspy once the others have settled down, so quiet you barely could hear yourself speak. Nevertheless, the pointed ears you've come to love much more than simply their aesthetic, twitch slightly at your words. "You up?"
There's a beat, and you start to think he's in too deep a sleep to be woken by your soft tone, until his breathing changes slightly and his body shifts under the covers. He replies with a groggy "Yeah?" and you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to muffle a chuckle. You lean up on your elbows, glancing at the limited space in the bed.
"I think I'm about to plummet to my death."
He muffles a laugh with his pillow. "It's a tight squeeze alright." He hums lowly, eyes sparkling in the dark as he turns over to look at you. You share the moment of closeness, of intimacy, and you begin to think that you might be able to endure the sleeping arrangement for another night. That is until Little Mister, who is curled up underneath the bedframe, ruins said moment with a rumbling snore, and Fearne's leg twitches harshly, and Orym mutters something about pies.
The air genasi drags a hand down his face, trying to hide his smile while you simmer in your sleep-deprived frustration before he pries himself away from both you and the cuddle pile. "Come on then, love," he whispers, straightening his sleep shirt as he stands and gathers a few essentials from his pack.
You raise a brow but do not question his intentions, gently moving from the bed and taking his offered hand.
The inn is quiet this time of night, only one or two patrons sitting at the bar, heads hanging tiredly while they nurse their tankards. The bartender, a wizened but gorgeous half-orc, has a word with Dorian while you wrap your cloak around you tighter. She smiles with a warm, toothy grin, and the exchange of coin results in a brass key being pressed into his hand. After bidding her a good night, he shuffles back over to where you stand.
"Second floor - blackout curtains, scenic view in daylight..." he states when you question him. He passes you the key, and rests his other hand at the small of your back to shepherd you down the corridor. "... Double bed for two people, and only two," he adds a little shyly, adjusting the pack on his shoulder.
You stop in your tracks, mouth parted with surprise. He halts his movements, glancing over his shoulder as if to say 'what are you waiting for?' but he mirrors your expression when you hug him. "I don't think I've ever been so in love with someone before," you dramatically admit. You reach up, tangling a hand in his hair and looking at him with nothing but fatigued adoration. He's perfect.
His heart flutters at your words, but sinks slightly when you continue.
"You truly are a wonder, Dorian Storm."
You see him swallow thickly, bob his chin in a weak nod before drawing himself away. Your face falls, confused at his sudden change in demeanor, and follow at his heels to your new room. "What's wrong? Was it something I said?"
"What? No, no, no, it's nothing, really." His forced smile tells another story. He fiddles at the lock with an awkward haste, nearly dropping the key. You reach out and still his hands, causing him to look at you.
"You can tell me anything, Dorian."
There it is again, that cold, dull gnawing of guilt within him because you have been so patient and loving, and he still hasn't told you.
With a sigh, his shoulders sag, and he manages to push open the door to the room and close it quietly after you follow him in. It looks almost identical to Orym and Fearne's room, but you do not care because it just feels so spacious and luxurious with only the two of you. You relieve Dorian of his pack, setting his on the desk and hanging your cloak on the hook, noting that he still hasn't moved an inch from the doorway.
"... Brontë."
"Hm?" you answer, running your hand across the crisp, clean bedsheets. When he doesn't continue straight away, you glance over at him. "You okay?"
His mouth feels dry. He takes a careful step forward. "My other name is Brontë," he says.
You send him a quizzical look. He slides his own cloak from his shoulders and it pools to the floor in a blue and sunset orange heap. Without a word, you reach out. And he takes your hand.
You pull him closer and let him join you on the bed, your body resisting the urge to lay down and call it a night, but you know he has something to say. You tuck a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his face behind his ear, an encouraging intention behind it, and he relaxes slightly.
"You know that I was..." He pauses, wracking his brain, trying to find the right words. "... Someone else before we met. Before the- before I was the party's 'humble bard.' You know about my brother, my family." His eyes meet yours, almost pleading for understanding. "I come from a line of air genasi from the Silken Squall. And they know me as Brontë Secundson, of the Wyvernwind family." The tips of his ears feel hot when you look at him with that soft expression he knows all too well. You care. You appreciate learning this side to him.
You take his hand in yours, run your thumb across his skin comfortingly. "I get it," you soothe, "I do. You wanted distance from it all so you could just be you. That's a completely understandable desire, my love."
"I just-" he says, biting his lip. "I know how the others look at me. They know I come from money, they know I've got something to hide. But you never prodded or overstepped when we shared. I guess I liked the way you looked at me and... I didn't want you to think less - or more - of me, you know? I like the way you know me."
And you understand. There's no deceptive meaning behind his words.
"And how do you want me to know you?" you ask, leaning forward and nudging him to lay down. The first thing that registers in his mind is how much space there is, how vast the bed seems with only him and you occupying it. The sheets engulf you both, no legs or arms having to stick out and suffer the cold. He isn't afraid of disturbing anyone else's rest with a sleepy movement. His hands hover over your waist, and he clears his throat.
"There's a reason why you know me as Dorian, and so Dorian I will remain," he murmurs, his breath catching in his throat when you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I just thought you should know. Finally know the truth. Of all people, you should know. It's been... it's been a lot this last year."
You move to pull the duvet across you both, your musings tired but with intent. "Dorian, Brontë, Storm, Secundson and Wyvernwind..." Even with the extra space provided without the others present, you and the bard still remain close, huddled next to each other, his hair a dark halo across the pillow. "No matter what name you choose or take, you are still the man I fell in love with."
Dorian flushes and smile bashfully. "Oh really? So I don't have to be afraid of any Maquesians whisking you away from me, do I?" he teases.
"They have nothing on my lover," you affirm with a smirk, raising a brow cheekily. "They simply have no chance against the man who dragged me with him across Exandria to Marquet. The man who has my back in every fight. The man who bought me my own bed." He chuckles at that, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter, filling the empty room with him.
You brush his chin with your nose, smile into his skin and manage to make a promise before sleep takes you both.
It's nice, the in-between stage of friendship and flirting, sitting next to each other on the roof of the inn, shoulders brushing and conversations carried by the light breeze over your shoulders.
You both talk, about everything, about nonsense, about nothing at all.
You chuckle and lean forward, aiming to press a friendly kiss his cheek, grateful for him sharing with you - his name, his company, this space and time together and the warmth you leach off from his body in the evening air.
Only, Dorian inclines his head to kiss your own cheek. You aren't quite sure who moved first, but it results in the unforseen action with his nose bumping awkwardly with yours, his hand that previously held your arm loosely now freezing as if electrocuted.
He draws back immediately, leaving your mouth parted and puckered while a stumbling apology leaves his own, until you place your hands firmly on his shoulders. He softens, allows you to move so that you practically straddle him, takes a shakey breath when you give him a questioning look.
He nods, and meets you in the middle.
It's a little clumsy, but you wouldn't trade it for anything else because it's Dorian you're kissing - with him, it's nothing short of perfect.
"Oops," you whisper after, and the brilliant smile on his face mirrors yours.
Quote - “I drank the blood of some people, but the people were on drugs, and now I’m a wizard!” Vampire!Reader x Fearne Calloway please.
ASDFGHJKL I BURST OUT LAUGHING WHEN I GOT THIS REQUEST BC I'M A HUGE WWDITS FAN AND I LOVE NANDOR WITH ALL MY BEING-
This was fun to write bc it's less serious than my other fics and needed far less commitment bc of it ❤️
~ Poet
"A Balanced Diet"
Fearne x GN!Vampire!Reader
"I can't believe you went out to get a bite to eat, and instead got high without telling me first. Or inviting me, on that matter."
There is a teasing lilt to the faun's voice, so obvious that even in your buzzed state you can pick up on her sarcasm. Your form is limp against her, face tucked into her neck as she helps drag you up the stairs of the inn. A laugh bubbles up in your throat, and you can't help but grip onto her tighter.
"Nooooooo, I would neverrrr abandon you." Your eyes, rounded and glazed over look up and meet hers already staring down at you in amusement. You wet your bottom lip, finding the leftover red stain at the corner of your mouth. "Never, ever, ever. I love this pretty, pretty fey-c. Because you're a fey. And I also love your face."
She also loves your face, but would rather the words coming from your mouth not sound so delirious. "Do you remember what happened, baby?" Her hand finds your forehead and checks your temperature. "Hm. Ice cold. Good. You're still your regular undead self. But what has gotten you like this?"
"I drank the blood of some people, but the people were on drugs-" You manage to tear yourself away from her supportive embrace and begin to gesture wildly at a door in the hallway. Fearne watches you with a neutral expression, but the smirk that plays on her lips betrays her. "And now I'm a wizard! Just watch - alakazoom, pffffstsfff."
Nothing seems to happen, but that fact does not deter you from your actions.
Your limbs flail about as your try summon the sensation that feels like magic coursing through your veins, only to miscalculate a frantic swipe at the air and accidentally hit your knuckles against the wood before you.
A loud thump comes from behind the door and inside the room, as if someone had punched the wall beside their bed. "Some of us are trying to sleep, you asshole!"
"You, as a werewolf, should know vamps have unusual sleep schedules, Chetney," you slur, half-heartedly flipping him through the partition. "Unlike you, I actually have a nightlife." You seal the deal by hissing at the door, not even registering that the gnome has probably already drifted back to sleep.
You feel warm hands on your shoulders, and the druid nudges you to keep staggering down the hall towards your own room.
"You can't just go chomping on just anyone, you silly billy," the faun teases as she helps settle you. "You need a healthy and reliable source of food. Vitamin and mineral enriched people. A random nibble here and there won't hurt but it can result in situations like this-"
"Did you see my cool wizard magic? With the alakazoom? It was pretty epic."
"Yes, baby. I saw." She double and triple checks that the drapes are drawn, then moves to help you lay down under the covers. "It was super epic."
"They didn't taste very good, to be honest. Drug blood baaaaad."
"I can only imagine. Learned your lesson?"
"... Do you think I'd be okay if I bit FCG? I bet he's rich in minerals... Pfft. Y'know, cuz of the metal... D-do you get the joke, Fearne?"
"I get it. And while I love stupid ideas... Please don't go biting our healbot. You'll chip a fang, just like how you did with Ashton. And Eshteros doesn't supply dental."
