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whereflowerswenttodie · 15 days

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will you remember my name when the sun comes up?

[ft. gojo satoru] [angst]

ten months ago, your doctor had diagnosed you with early onset dementia, ten months later you've begun to forget aspects of your life you'd wanted to cherish.

or gojo satoru spends the night worrying if you will still be his wife when the morning comes around.

content warning: dementia, angst, miscarriage.

word count: 2.6k

The moonlight bounces off your skin, illuminating the curves of your sleeping figure in a yellow-tinted glow. The scene is reminiscent of most nights when he stayed up gazing at your sleeping face after hours of making you his. The night is silent today, the air is hotter too; he cannot tell if it's the heat of the summer air that is suffocating him or if the fear of your possibly doomed future is choking him to a premature death.

He looks at your face, peaceful, as you snore through the night, your eyebrows twitching here and there. He wonders what dreams you might be having tonight. Gojo likes looking at you; it is probably his favorite thing to do, and he enjoys it the most. Your resting face brings him joy, hope, and with deep shame and guilt, it also brings him happiness. An almost nostalgic feeling strikes him as he gazes at your sleeping form. Your expressions in the moment fall in such contrast with the mask you wear during the day, one of helpless confusion and anguish that it baffles him and makes him want to break down, scream and claw his heart out to cease the empty feeling that takes over his existence.

He remembers, with utter vividness, your face the first time he saw you. Looking more beautiful than anyone he had ever laid eyes on, you were cladded in a pink summer dress — you later told him was your favorite (he had followed through with buying you a dozen of those dresses you liked to wear so much in the first month of your relationship, albeit with resistance and scoldings from you.) — you were buying pastries in the streets of Harajuku. A hearty chuckle ignites from him at the memory, lucid as if it were last week when he had met you.

It was a Wednesday, he remembers, boring as every other day of the week. Gojo thinks he had been bored after Geto had forsaken him in Shinjuku, but your presence had brought with itself euphoria that he loved to indulge and drown in.

You had bought the very last of his favorite mochi, Kikufuku. Well no, let’s let him correct himself over here, you had bought all but one Kikufuku, and Gojo Satoru — true to the nature and entitlement that came with being the only Gojo Satoru — had tried to jestly dispute with you over the ownership of the said dessert. But one look at your puzzled face and his tantrum was forgotten. He had physically felt his annoyance melting away as his heart skipped one too many beats.

And God he remembers you, yeah? He does. Ever the sweet you, who had felt terrible for having bought the very last of his treasured Kikufuku, so you had offered two of your five pieces to him. Your brows furrowed in confusion and sadness at having to give away your portion of the dish, and for the very first time in his life, he had refused to accept his favorite mochi. But you had insisted, not taking no for an answer, it was your first salary you had told him. You said you didn’t want to make anyone sad by your first purchase.

“Please take them, please?” your sweet voice had reverberated through the crowded streets. He doesn’t think your voice was loud, but he remembers it being saccharine, akin to bells tinkling at a shrine, but bells he would want to wake up to every morning, bells he would want to lull him to sleep every night.

You had looked up at him with the most adorable puppy-eyes he had ever witnessed, little Megumi’s supposedly threatening face had fallen in surrender to that look. Oh he sounds captivated by you, and he swears by his six eyes, that had frozen in on your face for moments too long, far too many times, that he was and he will always be.

At the end, Satoru had relented, but he had asked convinced you to enjoy those with him at the end of the street. And unbeknownst to him, he had spent another two hours just chatting up with you. This was the happiest he had been in months, years even. You did not ask him to stop talking, or to keep his voice low. No, in fact you had been excited, not like the random women he met at the bars on rare nights, not even like–

Oh, you reminded him of Suguru at that moment. Talking to you felt nostalgic, he felt at peace the same way he did with Suguru, his one and only. His best friend. He can still recall the guilt that had engulfed him in that moment, the fear of possibly replacing Suguru with a non-sorcerer, the kind his best friend hated. And it all sounded too impractical, too reckless, he needed to pull back. To cower away from your touch. He wanted to, but you had been too captivating, too addictive.

He would have pulled away, would have left you to become another faceless woman he had met, would have let you become a memory bound to be forgotten, but you–

“So is this a date?” you blurt out. Satoru knows the words are thoughtless, spoken in the spur of the moment, he can see you recoiling, he six eyes can perceive the fear of possible commitment clouding your senses, “Oh my God, that was so–”

“Only if you promise to go on a second one with me,” he cuts you off, his own offer an impulse, just as reckless as yours.

Those dates turned into a hundred more and then a series of events that led to today, where you lied in his bed, as his lovely wife. And tomorrow you might not remember him, your husband.

He remembers all your dates, your smile, the first time you met the kids, how gracefully you had made his almost family your own. His six eyes remember you far better than you remember yourself–

Gojo chokes at the thought. The pain is unbearable for him, the fear of oblivion takes up the space next to him in the form of his own wife.

Gojo Satoru has been hailed as the strongest in this world, nobody has ever surpassed his strength, he can vaguely recall Jogo’s words to him before he was sealed on that fateful night.

“Is there anything you cannot do, Gojo Satoru?”

He feels like a maniac wanting to laugh at the words of an arrogant curse, one he could have easily squashed. He is the strongest after all, there is nothing he cannot do.

He knows he tampered the balance of the world when he was born. He also knows that within this universe among curses and sorcerers: he is all alone. The honored one. The man nearest to the glory of God. Gojo Satoru knows the world better than most do, and yet as he looks at your sleeping face, he cannot even reassure himself if his wife of seven years will remember him next week or next morning.

He wants to pray.

But who does a God prays to listen to his pleas?

Gojo Satoru doesn’t know if he’s a God or an undefeated monster.

But who ever prays for the devil to be forgiven for his sins had he committed an act of treachery?

Gojo Satoru cannot make his wife remember him if she forgets him, and the fear keeps him up every night.

It is very lonely at the top, and he fears come tomorrow and he might forever sleep in isolation, albeit beside the one he cherishes and worships like the goddess of the mightiest glory.

Life was not supposed to be difficult, not like this, it was supposed to be simpler. You were supposed to be sleeping with him beside you, and Satoru was supposed to be less anguished.

You were supposed to have twins. Crying in the room beside yours, keeping the two of you up at night, he had promised you he would be the one changing diapers, because in the initial stages of your relationship you had playfully told him a baby would require changing diapers so you didn’t want a kid.

And no, they weren’t a part of your family planning, Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. But they came, and you learned to love them, a welcoming thought. He did too, but he feared for you, you were weak and they were the children of the strongest.

You were six months into your pregnancy, when you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen, you tried calling him while he was stuck fighting a special grade. He got off to see the twenty-four missed calls from you, and seven from an unknown number. He tried calling back to you, his heart getting heavier with fear and anxiety as he got sent to voicemail, one that you recorded with him screaming in the background. He dialed the unknown number, the words of the woman on the other line still scare him just as much.

Gojo Satoru has only ever felt fear thrice in his life: once when Toji Fushiguro killed him for the first time, the second followed with the exit of Geto Suguru, and the third came as a curse in the form of his said best friend appearing in front of him to seal him into that cursed box, all while he thought about you.

Yet none of them could’ve compared to that moment when he heard those fateful words for the first time, you had been into a life threatening accident, everything that followed after it was a blur.

“Your kids did not make it,” the doctors told him they had passed away much before the accident, that your car collided with a tree and toppled over from the possible shock of that incident.

Gojo had tried his hardest to restrain himself from cursing his unborn children, you would want better, he had told himself and he still does to this day.

The relief that followed him as the doctor informed him that you will soon wake up was only partially taken over by the grief of losing his unborn children. And he wishes to curse himself for it still, but he cannot as he looks back at your sleeping face.

The signs were unnoticeable at the beginning, they started out slow, with small things.

You didn’t remember where you kept Megumi’s uniform (he lived at the dorm), but you had both shrugged it off at the time.

You couldn’t remember where you had kept the flour in the cabinet (Satoru cooked), you both shrugged it off again as a possible confusion in case you had tried cooking without letting him know, you didn’t even think about it.

But then you started to forget the names of his coworkers. You couldn’t recognise Utahime, you had both once, a long time ago bonded over teasing him about the silly, little schoolboy crush that he used to harbor for her in his high school years. An information that was passed to you by Shoko. Utahime was one of your closest friends before the incident.

Then you forgot where your bedroom was in the house you both shared together, and he remembers watching your lips quiver and he told you that you will see the doctor in the morning.

And he remembers the doctor breaking the news to you, two days later, you had early on-set dementia caused by your head injury.

And he remembers–

God, he too wants to forget, there’s so much he’d like to forget, like the look on your face as you realize you might lose your memories in the way you had not planned to. Who even makes plans for a possible dementia?

He remembers watching you lose yourself time and time again. Moments where you would gaze into an abyss not being able to remember where you were, instances when you would look into the mirror and try to recognise yourself.

Nobody had ever watched him weep. But that first night when you weren’t able to remember you were both married, he had left your shared bed after you had fallen into a deep slumber, and had spent about thirty minutes crying in the shower of his guest bedroom.

He wailed. He screamed. He punched his tiled wall until he bled, and he didn’t heal the wound, You had asked him how he got it in the morning and he lied to you that he slipped. You didn’t remember his infinity. You probably hadn’t for a long time. You possibly also forgot about his reversed curse technique.

He wishes his RCT could heal your brain injury.

He looks back at your sleeping form again, and a familiar grief pools into his heart as he realizes you will one day lose all cognitive function, that one day he might lose you to this illness.

“She has about eight years to live before she will most likely forget basic functions like eating, sleeping, or even–”

“What are you trying to imply?” he cuts off the doctor, very rudely one must mention.

“I am just saying that she might lose her life to this.”

The doctor’s words haunt his mind, keeping him awake at night. As does his fear that tomorrow you might not be able to recognise him anymore.

He shudders as the memory, fresh from the morning, seeps into his head. You didn’t remember your–

“Where are the kids?” you ask him, perturbed and frazzled as if you had spent hours looking for something important. A lost memory, another unfamiliar instance.

“Megumi is at the dorm–” he speaks, vision hazy with sleep.

“I’m not talking about them, I am asking you where my– our babies went,” he felt his heart drop in that moment, because in another such moment he had held you as you sat on the hospital bed, wailing and screaming for your babies.

“Baby…” he begins, his own voice soft with grief, one that is much different than your own. How many times will he have to break your heart before it is too broken to ever heal?

“Yes?” you speak, confusion clear through your voice, as your face wears that same mask of pain and puzzlement.

“They didn’t make it,” he tells you once more, as he scoops you in his arm, in order to save himself from watching you die all over again. He goes through the pain of it all once again, as do you. But only one of you remembers.

It’s only ever just one of you grieving the loss of life, a tragedy always gone unforgiven.

He remembers the promise you made him to always be with him on the day before your wedding vows.

But, a promise is a promise until one of you forgets.

He looks at the clock beside him, 6:49 AM, he can only hope that when you wake up this morning you’ll remember who he is. That the diary you keep will help you never forget him.

He needs you to remember him, he doesn’t think he can survive a day where you do not know him. It is a necessity. You are his light, and you have slowly been shutting the door to your embrace close on him, you can barely see him trembling in this darkness that you leave him in anymore. He does not want to be left alone, but he knows that once you leave him alone, he will still be visiting the grave of the love that the two of you shared; one where you had thrown away all your memories, if only to look down at the forest of your remains or perhaps to find you running across the field with all that you once cherished.

a/n: idk why i wrote this. this wasn't proofread, because we die like everyone in jjk, and also because my adhd-suffering-self could no longer keep up with this, and i really wanted to go back to writing houses without fathers.

@nanamis-baker had a sneak peak!

credits: @/benkeibear, @/firefly-graphics.

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claudemblems · 9 months

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You Make Him Feel... | Genshin Impact

Ft. Kaveh, Alhaitham, Diluc, and Kaeya

I love these boys 🥺💖

Kaveh: Like He Has No Worries at All

All the stressors in his life -- the debt, the secrets, the frustrating roommate, and the picky clients -- vanish from his mind when he's with you. Your presence fills him with such a foreign sense of peace that makes the unending volume of thoughts in his head go silent. The only thing occupying his head space noa is you. He can't remember the last time he's felt so at ease. For a long time, he's lived in fear of his carefully crafted façade shattering, leaving behind shards of his failures in its wake. But you...you're the mirror reflecting all his hopes and dreams, his wants and desires. You're the looking-glass that shows him the bright future waiting ahead of him. Every time he looks at you, he sees what can be, what will be, so long as you choose to remain by his side.

Alhaitham: Like Everything Makes Sense

There are some things in this world that cannot be fully understood no matter how much a person researches, theorizes, and attempts to know them. Logic is a guide, not an answer to life's every question. But somehow, your very existence challenges these "truths". For the first time in his life, Alhaitham has found something that he is completely sure of: that he cares deeply for you. With each passing day, he finds his mind becoming clearer, his love for you growing more and more sure. Rationality dictates that he should not be unfazed by the chaos that surrounds him, nor should he find himself smiling in the face of adversity, but he does. The unknowns in his life are finally understood. The burning questions in his mind have found their answers. You are the key that opened his once locked heart, and now through your eyes he's able to make sense of the world around him: and truly, it's beautiful.

Diluc: Like There's Good Still in the World

For a long time, Diluc believed he would never open his heart again, not to anyone or anything. His world had already been destroyed by the death of his father and the reveal of his brother's teue identity. All the good things that were once his had been ruthlessly torn from him, his hope and optimism vanishing alongside them. His heart seemed to be wounded beyond repair, with scare hope of it ever going back to the way it once was, but that all changed when you came along and mended it. Little by little, he noticed how the sun shined bit brighter, how the bitter taste of wine grew sweeter, how your smiles made his monotone world burst teem with colors. He realized that he'd been wrong all along: goodness did exist in this world. Every time he looks at you, he's reminded of it, and he's determined to protect your heart of light that helped to guide him home to you.

Kaeya: Like There Are Second Chances

The painful memories of a day long ago had engraved themselves deep into Kaeya's heart and soul, a permanent reminder of all that he had once cherished and lost. Guilt followed him like a shadow, and loneliness clung to him like a curse. After losing all the people he loved, he thought that there would never be another place in this world for him. That was until your path converged with his, and he found himself believing that just maybe he could have another chance in this life, so long as you would have him. Indeed, the moment you accepted his affections, Kaeya knew you were a blessing sent his way, the answer to the question he'd been asking for so long: could he really start over and make things right again? With your every careful touch, every gentle kiss pressed against his skin, every comforting word whispered into his ears, the answer was an unequivocal yes. He would accept this second chance with grace, vowing this time to protect you, the person he loves -- to keep you in his arms and never let go.

#kat writes #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader

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mizusnose · 4 months

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Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her

cannot express how absolutely insane i’ve been feeling about soft, sweet, tender, vulnerable mizu lately. like, it’s been consuming me. so here’s a little thing :)

summary: takes place in ep.5 where instead of finding her “mother”, mizu loses her way and finds you and the shrine you take care of instead. aka that flop m*k** doesn’t exist and no chance for angst!!

———

Mizu doesn’t remember passing out in the middle of the woods. Only that she’d felt like a blur of colors and heat and blood before she dropped off into a vivid dream of finding her mother again. Her dreams dwindled and led her to a semi-awake state of being nursed back to health.

You notice Mizu’s fluttering eyelashes and quickly set your hands beneath her neck, the tender curve of it. you can feel the bumps of bone there, warm skin and the dried-over blood.

Mizu gasps and coughs, you push the bowl of water against her dried lips. The fire crackles and spits out sparks.

“Thought you’d died.”

You remark, titling the bowl further when you see the muscles of Mizu’s neck work. more, more, more.

“Who. are. you.”

“The one who saved you from frostbite. Don’t get up, your stitches are still fresh.”

Mizu glances down at herself after you’ve left to tend to the fire. The plane of her stomach stretches and she hisses despite the warning.

“Told ya.”

You’re back in an instant. The same hand placement as before, steady against mizu’s neck. You ignore the glare she throws your way and instead poke gently at the stitches. Mizu tenses and curses. You marvel at the muscles pulled taut in her throat.

“D’you have a death wish?”

“Mph..! fuck, can you stop—touching it.”

You sigh, pushing away and standing. The half-dead stranger you found in a snowdrift some kilometers away from the main road wasn’t on your to-do list this week. Dealing with her was also gonna be troublesome.

“You’ve gotta stay, got it? It’d look bad if I turned you away.”

“Is this…?”

“Yama jinja. Small, I know. We get some worshippers here and there. Family-run.”

Mizu cocks a dark eyebrow.

“Plus you’d bleed out on the way back with your injuries. A bloodied path is not very auspicious, you know.”

Of course, Mizu initially tries to leave regardless of your opinions and later, demands. She’s a dam. Closed off and waiting to burst the longer she stays. It’s only with poking and prodding that the pressure starts to break.

It starts with a fever.

You tend to her as best you can, medicinal herbs and tea and salves. You’ve learned that Mizu’s annoyingly stubborn, but the fever persists.

She’s delirious half the time. In and out of dreams and nightmares, rarely awake to notice the crease forming between your eyebrows. It’s violent, the way her body fights to survive.

It’s only after she recovers that you realize she’s an animal: a fawn entrapped in the yawning mouth of a wolf. a raw, bloody thing that’s barely escaped death. That something’s been chasing her.

Mizu doesn’t leave after that. You don’t ask her to.

Mizu remembers little of her fever, but when she lays down on the tuft of hay near your bed every night, she dreams. It’s smeared, the version of you she’s conjured. Barely distinguishable, but Mizu swallows around it. The wide open of her belly, full and warm and vulnerable. She allows it.

Days turn into weeks and then months. The cold fist of winter opens up around spring and then summer floods in.

“You’re going to the river later right?”

“Mn. Need anything?”

“Just some…well, I’ll do it myself.” You say, the same time Mizu says, “Okay, I can do it.”

You look at one another, smiling softly. The cicadas scream outside and the sun is melting into the earth like the yolk of an egg. You nod and she quirks a grin.

“Be careful” You tell her. Her kasa shields her face, but the sharp of her chin moves and you know. Know what she’s doing with her mouth: the lick of her tongue, the bite of her lip. You know.

Mizu doesn’t take long. She’s returned by the time you’ve started dinner, and Mizu thinks of herself months ago. Bleeding out, covered in a pack of snow, barely noticeable, barely alive. She should have died. Didn’t know how she didn’t.

She casts a glance to you, unashamed, staring. The skin of your neck covering the bumps of spine. Right where you’d held her not so long ago.

The thaw of the earth has given way to soft dirt. When you realize this, you get your farming equipment out.

Mizu joins, delighted to be under the skim of sunlight and carrying the bags of rice grains. You don’t comment on the smatter of freckles that have bloomed on the bridge of her nose. You only stare and hope she doesn’t sense it, the way you feel about it all: Her and her voice and her hands and her body and, you both.

It’s with both your arms dug into the dark of the earth that Mizu quiets and stills. The wind settles and the cicadas shudder and stop their song. You hesitate to speak and when you do, she starts:

“You’ve never asked me. Not once.”

You think you know what she’ll say, and you start and she starts and you stop, and she continues.

“The wrong I did. It’s..it’s bad. Worst than you can imagine—than you should imagine. It’s, it’s dishonorable and disgusting and—and.” She’s looking at you then, eyes unfocused and red-rimmed. There’s a freckle on the curve of her forehead. You want to touch it, kiss it, soothe her. You wait. “The gods wouldn’t forgive it. You wouldn’t..wouldn’t forgive me.”

Your palms are damp and you breathe once, twice, stand and settle them back into the wetness of the earth. Right atop Mizu’s shaking hands.

“If the gods don’t forgive you, you’d still have me, and I, you.” You hope it’s enough, the touch, and the words and the way your body wraps itself around her. The plane of Mizu’s back shudders, stops, starts again and you lay your fingers into her. The same place you’d had them the first time. The bone, and the skin, and the person she is.

You think: the chase is over. The blood has been shed. The mouth has fed, belly full.

Mizu kisses you later that night.

Deeply and softly in the low light of the dying fire. It simmers into you, pooling low between your legs. Mizu pulls away, nose crushed up against yours, happy and proud and so beautiful.

“Couldn’t help myself. Was hoping you’d—“ a laugh. “Hoping I’d what” You say, hands rubbing up and down Mizu’s arm. Her shoulder, the elbow, back up again. “You’d kill me. Get mad. Throw me off you.” Another kiss, heady and slow. “Not strong enough for that.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.”

The monsoons start the night she kisses you. It beats down onto the pebbles surrounding the garden and the wood of the roof and the cicadas are white noise. The thunder and lightning fight to be louder than your moans.

Mizu doesn’t stop laughing, doesn’t stop smiling and kissing you, doesn’t stop. Not until she’s pushed up against you body. Both your legs, chest, and forehead touching. Curled into the soft of her.

“I tried, you know” You say.

“Hm?”

“Tried stopping it. This. Couldn’t.” You felt puffy and raw. Couldn’t say it clearly.

Mizu observed you, amused. Her hair down and her freckles dark, and her mouth red.

“Me too. Don’t worry, me too.”

And the summer felt like years. And mizu thought, as she held you: The ground had thawed. It’s thawed.

It’s thawed.

———

title and work inspired by work song by hozier bc cmonnnn

#mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #hozier inspired work #fanfiction #i am on my period and crying abt soft mizu ok? ok

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bitchlessdino · 1 year

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thinking about mean dom dino with but twist it with youngest and oldest rivalry of mean dom seungcheol having crazy threesome trying to impress you. and lots and lots heavy degradation.

insane combo.

Pairing: incubus!seungcheol x afab!reader x incubus!chan

Genre: smut, dark, fantasy

Word count: 3.7k

tags: poly, HEAVY degration (slut, whore, stupid) competitive chancheol, lip piercing!dino, banter, unprotected sex, reader with breasts, breed kink, breast play, clit slapping, spitting, spanking, choking, face slapping, oral fixation, ass play, oral (giving and receiving), double penetration, possesive chan, very brief mentions of death

Summary: A human serves one purpose to an incubus like Chan or Seungcheol. They were fuel.

author note: i went a little wild hahaha, my favorite dirty thing i wrote in a while, and i happen to really like how my banner looks, pls look <3

tagging: @candidupped

Chan bemused you the moment he crawled from the deep depths of hell, so he claims, determined to feed on you, the moment he first laid his eyes on you. His eyes flickered of fire red, and the tips of his dark hair met not only his eyes but grazed his broad shoulders. Chan stood before you, like he had discerned his fate in your eyes. He hadn't the slightest idea who you were, but deep down in his nonexistent soul, he craved for you. He had to have you.

You were living a timid cycle of mundane cosplay: working to make ends meet, sending money to family for their support, and putting energy into the world that hardly served you as an individual. It’d be dishonest to say you didn't crave adventure, intimacy, or belonging. You found all that in this strange demon.

He was mystifying, alluring, strapping. His face was boyish, and if you look too quickly, he would appear deceivingly kind. Despite that, his body is taller, wider, stronger than any ‘boy’ you had come in contact with. Then again, he wasn’t considered a ‘man’ either. No man had this kind of effect on you.

You had not experienced sex like you had with Chan. The way he handled you had a lasting effect. You savored him from his skin that burns like a thousand suns against yours to the cock that plunges into you like he’s playing a melody. The images alone of him restraining, biting you, swallowing nectar from you make your legs shake, your heart pound, the heat between your legs pulse (not that you had much time imagining with Chan).

No one had made you long for his body day after day, as Chan did. The fact he wasn’t human made all the more sense. You were aware of these mythical creatures, but never did you imagine you’d come face to face with an actual incubus, let alone two.

“You cannot make me.”

“Come at once, young demon. Do not make me repeat myself. You cannot attach yourself to this human. You have duties!”

You sit in silence at the scene before you, shamefully caught nude from the mid-coitus. The new demon had appeared within air, moments away from your intense wave of arousal, only to have your partner ripped off from right on top of you and land harshly on the hard floor with a thud.

You remember to cover yourself instantaneously with‌ your duvet, frustrated initially, but melt once you meet the eyes of your intruder. He was a tall and astute presence; demand was clear in his eyes. You blink back at him in awe, drawn to him like you are for Chan and now you are unsure where to avert your hungry gaze towards.

Seungcheol comes to retrieve his younger colleague, forcing his hand to take him back to the underworld before he leaves a permanent mark. You feared it had already gotten too far from that point as you have shared the bed and sexually embraced each other countless nights. The young demon had laid its mark on you and it burned to have him away from you for long.

Chan refused to leave, finding solace in his comfort mortal and he knew you wouldn’t let him leave either. Seungcheol, although understanding as he sees the energy you emit–a concoction of fatigue, lethargy, and insatiable lust–which makes you the perfect prey for their kind, but he is insistent.

“You have one job here and you must come back home once you are nourished.”

“I don’t care. I am to spend the rest of eternity here with my Y/n. They provide me with all I need!”

He called you his. You could feel blood rush to your cheeks hearing that, bending your neck to look down to avoid any watchful eyes, failing knowing that Seungcheol’s gaze was burning through your skull.

Seungcheol exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You’re being impossible, Chan.”

“You haven’t had a specimen like them, Seungcheol. You wouldn’t be able to proceed accordingly once you have a taste.”

The older demon cocks his brow at Chan, sneering at him as he bends down to meet his eyes. “Your impulse control by choosing not to leave this mortal’s side just further proves you’re a foolish demon. There’s no such thing. I am perfectly capable of anything and everything. They are merely human.”

Chan grits his teeth back at the man. “Care to wager then?”

This piques the elders, gesturing to the younger one to proceed. Chan then goes on to challenge him.He suggests they would both partake in taking you to bed with the same goal in mind: making you as cum as much as possible. Easy enough. If Seungcheol could find himself to resist you after a few rounds of sex, he’d drag Chan right back. If he doesn’t, Chan gets to stay right where he is.

It was just a matter of having Seungcheol understand Chan to a degree. If Chan couldn’t have enough of you, who can say Seungcheol will? It was about time the youngest demon would show that age does not equate skill or power.

Chan takes back his place against the bed, smiling down at you with a knowing smile. He picks you up from the back of the head, colliding with your lips, the metal on the bottom of his mouth cooly grazing against your flushed skin. You feel him smile. Your heart flutters at the most tender gesture he’s ever displayed. “Seungcheol shall join us. Maybe sure to give him a warm welcome.”

You nod gingerly, eyes blown out in lust, letting him take your hands. “Yes, Chan.”

“Good little slut.”

Chan beckons the third over, having their new guest strip down from their attire with your attentive eyes trained on him. The shirt is pulled off his body in a swift move, revealing the rippling torso—pure muscle packed in every sculpture of his body—and the clasp of his pants comes apart, the fabric falling abandoned to the ground. His firm length gets caught in his grasp, a stroke of his hand pulls up from his shaft, and he joins your ensemble with a crooked smile.

“Let’s see what makes you so special.”

Your throat goes dry in their presence, legs folding underneath you in a position of submission, and you stare back up at their eyes flickering–much like a lit candle that burns brightest in the darkest of spaces—hands shaking in anticipation.

In minutes, your eyes water from the intense sensation of your core having a pair of lips latched against it. Chan holds you from behind to steady you—caressing your breasts, pinching your nipples, licking up the intoxicating perspired skin on your neck—while he yearns to be the one with your pussy in his mouth instead of Seungcheol. The younger demon growls as he bites down, an anguished yelp leaving your lips.

Seungcheol buries himself deeper between your legs. His hot breath ghosts over your inner thighs, tongue licking stripes over your wet slit, pursing his lips and suctioning them as he feels your fingers thread through his hair. Your jaw drops the harder he persists. Your legs convulse, riding the stranger's face as if it came naturally to you. You have to remind yourself that sex does not occur even remotely close to this, knowing their capabilities are beyond what you’d find outside the walls of your complex.

“How’s his mouth? Are you enjoying yourself?”

You babble in response. Chan’s question becomes an afterthought. Your tongue twisted in knots as Seungcheol performs splendidly well, his tongue sweeping over your folds before plunging inside, while a looped arm allows his hand to play with your clit, squeezing it harshly. He can’t help but be proud of your response. He had done this countless times on other prey, but yours had to be especially entertaining. Chan averts your attention by pulling back the hair of your scalp, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Answer when you’re asked a question.”

You nod back at him, swallowing down your drool, gasping out exasperated, “Yes. He makes me feel…so good…”

Chan sneers at your answer, squeezing the sides of your cheeks with an index and thumb, pursing your lips. “Open,” he demands.

You do as you're told, your wet pink muscle sticks out in front of him, fatigue weighing down on your eyelids making them flutter. Chan shifts his mouth, drawing himself closer, harshly spitting back in your mouth. “Now swallow like a good whore.”

Seungcheol groans deep in your pussy, slapping against the side of your thigh and your body flinches, the spit naturally sliding down your throat. With that, Chan presses the back of your head toward him and meets your lips. You moan between the gap of his mouth, his tongue heatedly caressing yours. His hands fall back against your breasts, finding the sensitive peaks between his fingers before pulling and pinching. His deceivingly sweet laughter plays soothingly in your ears.

“Look at you. Can’t fucking control yourself.” He kneads into your flesh, pulling at your bottom lip, the brush of his piercing making the hairs on your neck stand. “Like how he eats you out, hmm? Better than me?”

You have no idea how to answer. Chan has eaten you out a handful of times, all gut wrenchingly delectable, but could you say that in front of Seungcheol? Would that have been mean? Or if it was the other way around?

It’s like Seungcheol is listening when his pace falters, looking up into your gaze from between your legs. His hair falls to his pretty round eyes, a light dusting of red on his face. He offers you a smile, one that blurs the line between sinister and giving. “Tell him, baby. I won’t get hurt, can’t say the same for Chan.”

Chan drags his tongue on the inside of his cheek, glaring back at the other demon but is only met with a smile on their face as he goes back to engorge on your needy pussy. You helplessly bite back a moan, trying to conjure a response. “I like b-both…but right now…S-Seungcheol.”

The victor rewards you with a fiercer round, having you scream out his name before your legs begin to give out on you. Your knees take either side of head and pushes himself deeper in you, his tongue unmercifully fucking the inside of your warmth. Your legs twitch to his side and you end up holding him down. His hand comes down on your clit in retaliation and you flinch with every time he repeats the gesture.

“Mmh, I’m going to–!” Your liquid heat releases from you like cream, riding the surface of his face like the perfect instrument to catch your cum.

Chan only further enhances the sensation by wrapping a hand around the back of your neck, closing the exits for your breaths. “Stupid slut, take his fucking tongue. Warm yourself for a real good fucking time. Say thank you.”

Your vision dulls, gasping for every possible breath. You hold your hands to cover his and squeeze harder around your throat. A smile stretches over your face. “T-thank you…thank you!”

“You listen so fucking well. Only thing you’re good at besides being a good fucking cumslut for me. You gonna take our cum today? Hmm?”

You nod back at him gingerly. “Yes, please, I want your cum. I want all your cum, please.”

Chan forgivingly lets you go. “Seungcheol my turn. Time to get your dick sucked.”

Smug in the face, Seungcheol rests against the bed frame with now your head between his legs. With your chest down and ass up, you simultaneously offer a view for both of them, caressing the length of Seungcheol cock against your cheeks. Chan remains behind you, only this time he gets to fill your pussy, pressing his tongue on the divide of your ass cheeks. “What a perfect fucking pussy.”

“What a perfect little mouth.” Seungcheol adds, stretching out your lips with his fingers, wetting them down to the knuckles, hearing you gag, before bringing them across your cheek. “You let Chan do this to you every day? You’re being a good, perfect slut to Chan? Of all our species?”

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole, and just enjoy the show.”

Making you flinch, Chan spits into your pussy, watching it drip down your slit, before running up from the top of your pussy to end in eager licks, a cheek in either hand. You let out one last coherent moment before letting Seungcheol’s cock between your lips, and wrapping tightly around his girth, your pupils rolling back to your skull.

The moisture of your mouth coats the top perimeter of Seungcheol’s cock and he watches with a devilish grin. His bottom lip between his teeth and a brow raising up on his face, feeling you hug tighter around his girth, and the moans muffled around him vibrate against his cock. “Smart little slut, are you?”

His eyes shift in tension, running fingers in your hair until he shows he does it to only push you harder. “Take it. If you can take Chan’s cock, you can most certainly take mine.”

You force his length into your mouth, stretching your cheeks like elastic, and you bobbing yourself down on his cock. Your hands stabilize on his thighs–his thick, firm, rideable thighs–before sliding up his torso, drinking in his sculpted and chiseled abdomen that was hard as rocks. You ingrain the clear image in every wrinkle of your brain, holding on to it like a core memory. If you knew any better, you’d think a god himself sculpted him.

“That’s more like it,” He praises, “See. Multitasking shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Chan finds himself only deeper, lost in your set heat. Tongue gliding effortlessly between your folds, his fingers come behind to join in. That’s when you feel like hell has broken loose. His digits fixate inside your walls, plummeting deeper as a mixture of your arousal and drools dribbling down his chin and seeping out onto the sheets. His cock twitches, feeling the jerk of your hips, flat-handedly coming against the plush of your ass. “You gonna cum again, hmm…” he adds a third finger before he spanks your ass another time, burning hotter than it ever has before, “gonna cum in my mouth like the perfect slut I know you are?”

The delicious tension in your abdomen clenches, holding on to the sensation on his tongue, and letting Seungcheol take free rein of your controls, bouncing your throat over his cock and down his lap. Obscenities leave his lips as if they're in its own language. “Your mouth’s perfect for taking my cock. You like that? Me fucking your dirty mouth? Aren’t I filling you up nicely, little slut? Like you’re made to choke on my cock?”

The venom in the older demon’s words plays a threat to Chan's very existence. He growls in the depths of your heat, distracting you by finding a spot he knows all too well. “Mmp–Ch–”

His name comes out in incoherent, broken language, but he knew it was for him. His digits stretch and move inside you at an unnatural speed, readying your other entrance with a spit on the rim. A familiar sense of gratification enters you, your legs being the first one to discover, but stands tall with Chan’s face pressed against you.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol is about to discover his own enlightenment, holding your head down as his hips come‌ up. He swears he finds euphoria in your throat and his release is home in your body, filling your cheeks to the brim. When he lets go, there’s not a single thought home, your eyes looking off in his direction like a mindless zombie, desperate to suck off the remainder of his cum that is now leaking from the corner of your lips. He lets out an effortless chuckle, caressing the side of your head fondly. “I think I’m starting to get it now.”

“Good, because here's the fun part,” Chan says.

Chan pushes himself up for his hands to spread you wide; your gaping pretty, little holes perfectly in view. He spits one more time at your rim, letting the moisture slide down decadently. Moans escaping him at its glisten, dangling a translucent ribbon from his tongue before slurping it back in his mouth, obnoxiously loud. He then centers the head of his on your tight rim, adjusting to the stretch to his girth, “Mmm, look at that.”

He pushes himself deeper, the felt of your walls are heaven around him, and he jerks against you, grabbing balls of your ass in his hands. “By gods, you’re perfect for me.”

You’re close to moaning Chan’s name again before Seungcheol takes your head to pull you in a kiss, tastes remnants of himself on your tongue, pulling on your hair like a rag doll. “Say his name again, I’ll make sure you forget what it even is. Say mine, only mine.”

He tugs it on your hair a little harder, a whimper leaves your lips. “Got it?”

“Seung—“

Chan’s hand comes down on your ass, interrupting you. “Not on my fucking watch. That kind of disrespect with my cock in your ass? If you’re not saying my name, you’re not saying his.”

“Brat,” Seungcheol chuckles, reuniting in a heated kiss and sure you bruise and blemish the skin of your lips. He pulls you up and folds you up against Chan, having your heated back fit around his perfectly lean and toned muscles, his fingers find your slit one more, along with its slobber flooding around the entrance. “Chan’s so sloppy.”

The younger one scoffs. “My Y/n doesn’t seem to mind. They’re too cock drunk to say otherwise.”

“That I agree with.”

Seungcheol makes it so you lean against Chan, taking your legs up to his side. Your entrance stares back at him in desire as if it has a mind of its own, waiting for him to join the other demon. He doesn’t need to say a thing before he plunges his hard length inside you, and groans gather collectively in the room. He throws his head back slightly, dropping his jaw as he adjusts to your warmth, “S-shit, that feels…fucking good.”

“Like perfection.” Chan comments in a daze, having the other lazily nod in agreement. “Yeah, like perfection.”

Your one arm wraps around Seungcheol’s shoulder, the other around Chan, and you envelop yourself in this unexplainable heat, following the movement of these firm, tense bodies wrapped around your figure like a foil around chocolate. “Fuck…that feels amazing…”

Chan pushes your head against his mouth on your mouth, his groans getting caught down your groan, hands finding back on your breasts, holding with all the willpower in his body. Seungcheol may be sharing this moment with him, but you’ll always be his. He wouldn’t let you forget. You are and were Chan’s first. “Tits…ass…y/n…mine…”

There’s an almost desperation in his tone, almost human like, but the thought vanishes as he thrusts harder into you, your voice rasps in ache, whines soft little ‘Yes’s as he swallows your lips. Your light warm breath from your nose feathers against his cheeks delightfully.

Seungcheol grips you against his sides. He watches your sweet interaction with your long time immortal lover, seeing that smile on your face match Chan’s. It’s almost tender, bittersweet, forbidden. And Seungcheol can’t wait to rip apart its very existence.

He claims your neck, marking your skin much like you’re used to from Chan, and you swallow hard and have that shift in your throat apparent under his lips. He travels down your collarbone and over your shoulders, biting raw into your skin. You shudder, his hips grind into your core at the same time and it’s bliss, pure bliss.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you gasp out and their cocks go rampant up your body in an uneven rhythm.

Your bodies collapse on your bed. Chan ensures he’s still connected to you and kisses you with vigor, angst, obsession as his arms loop and clutch around your body. Seungcheol’s legs come around your legs to push deeper and harder. “You like that, don’t you? Two cocks fucking you full?”

“Taking two of our cocks like my perfect cockslut…my cock in your ass, his in your pussy…that gonna make you cum? You want us to fill your pretty ass and pussy with cum?”

You nod, your hand grasping for Seungcheol to come against your side. Your bodies mesh against enough, impossible to find when your individual selves started and where it ended.

“Well, you better take our cum,” Chan says, “fuck you full with cum from both ends. Breed you until you’re full, hmm? That what you want?”

“Yes, please. I want you to cum inside me,” you plead, tears running down your eyes, “Breed me please. I want–need it so badly.”

“Don’t regret it,” Seungcheol responds darkly.

Your eyes twitch until they close, body convulsing between the two warm cushions. Sounds leave your mouth but no words, only desperate to hold on to the little to no sanity left in your body as they fill you out. Chan is the first to leave his last thrusts, depositing hot, milky ribbons that leak from your backside when he pulls out. It's an image to behold. On the other side, Seungcheol gets a parallel image, the prettiest cunt adorned with white honey, caressing your sensitive folds from all angles. Your breaths begin to even out and energy visibly drains from your body.

You’re malleable, you're weak, you’re lifeless, like the light in your eyes was losing its presence, replaced with a darkness Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain. There’s only the life in your breath that proves you were alive, but in reality, your mind and consciousness are long gone. You should’ve perished like the others, and if Seungcheol was being honest, he thought Chan held himself back to extend this relationship, but no. It was your sheer will that kept you alive.

Seungcheol is beginning to understand Chan was right. There is truth in the younger demon’s words, and even now he had a hard time to believe it. The situation made Chan into some sweet love-stricken puppy, but far from it. Its power disguised as love and somehow you became a limitless, renewable fuel. You had no end and still it was enthralling, validating, addicting. Seungcheol was impressed, and now he wasn’t sure he'd get enough of it.

You had to be his.

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kamisatomay018 · 5 months

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When the tide comes in, I Shall Return..

Neuvillette x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of character death, angst with fluff, hurt/comfort, reincarnation

Reader is an immortal elemental being, events described may not match the official Genshin story so it’s fictional!

Honestly I cannot write only angst cuz I love happy endings, so this will be a happy story! Also this will be very lengthy so I hope you guys enjoy!

Thunder struck the grounds of Fontaine as the rain poured down unforgivingly, and dark clouds surrounded the city like a dense fog, making Fontaine seem gloomier than ever. Not a soul could be spotted outside, all seeking comfort and warmth in their homes. But where could he go? Where could he find comfort? There was only one man in Fontaine who dared to step foot in the merciless fury of the rain, and that was the Hydro Dragon himself. After all, this rain was his own fury, his own anguish and misery. Yet it could never come close to ever describing the way his heart twisted in agony, his soul hollow and his being feeling emptier than ever.

There he stood, in front of a beautiful big cottage in Elynas which now lay isolated and alone, yet he had made sure that not a single brick fell apart. Only he knew how many memories were tied to this beautiful place he once so dearly called home. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he closed his eyes, once again allowing him to drown in the memories that never once faded away from his heart..

“Neuvi look!” He turned around to face you, looking as beautiful as ever, long white locks like his flowing down your back as you held beautiful pink and coral shells in your hands with an excited smile on your face. “Oh Mon Amour, these are simply divine. Your powers are truly magnificent.” You smiled at him bashfully, approaching him and sweetly pinned a coral shell onto his hair. The sun shone brightly as gentle waves crashed onto the beach, peace and serenity filling the air. “I’m so glad you like them Neuvi!” Oh how dearly he loved you, how dearly he loved your smile. In your beautiful cottage in Elynas, both of you had built a home, your love blossoming every passing year. Hundred years had already passed by since he knew you, and he had never been this happy. This was his perfect life, his happiness. You were his happiness, his light in the darkness.

How had everything gone so wrong? You both were so happy, and in the blink of an eye, everything he held dear to him had been snatched away from him. How was he supposed to move on like the entirety of Teyvat had? He had never been the same since you left him. Not once had he smiled in these five centuries, not one day had gone by where he didn’t remember you. He still had the shells you made for him so dearly, he would still dive deep into the waters of Fontaine to sustain the marine life you had created so dearly to honour your memory. But even as the Hydro Dragon, his powers were nowhere near as gentle and loving as yours. You were the epitome of peace and kindness which is why he had fallen so deep in love with you in the first place.

Opening the door of the cottage, he let out a shaky breath, trying not to break into sobs. All those years ago when he returned home, he would have your hand to hold, your sweet voice and embrace to find solace in. And now here he stood, drenched in his misery, all alone. As his eyes travelled across the beautiful cottage, he could see the memories of the beautiful past in front of his eyes, playing like a movie. How the two of you would dance and twirl together in the living room, how you would cook together, grow and pick beautiful flowers in your garden and cuddle with one another on the plush couch. Each moment he spent standing alone in the dark house, he was reminded of how all those memories are but the past that he can never relive, a time that he cannot reverse. He fell to the ground, crying in sorrow. Why did he have to pay the price for the folly of humans? What had you both ever done to be destined to a fate so cruel? The cataclysm was all because of humans and the celestial gods, then why had he payed the ultimate price?

How long has it been since he lost you? 500 years. 500 years since he last smiled, since the day he had ever been happy. Did he even remember what happiness or warmth felt like? No, because the day he lost you, he lost his reason to live and breathe too. It had been 500 years since the region of Elynas which was once a beautiful and flourishing land, had been turned into a land filled with carcasses, ruins and pain. Traces of the cataclysm were still visible here, as rifthounds and ruin machines from Dahri were still active, along with markings of the abyss. Anger filled in his mind as he remembered the fateful day he lost you, a memory so vivid that it haunted him every single day.

“Neuvi..the sky..it’s red..” He frowned at your words, approaching you who stood by the window. “What..how is that possible..” Fear was visible in your ocean blue eyes, as you hugged him close. “Neuvi I have a very bad feeling about this..” He wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace, shushing you. “Hush Mon Amour..everything will be alright. I am with you, I promise.” Suddenly, to your utter horror, the ground tore open as abyssal monsters rose, making you shriek in terror. Neuvillette gasped, standing in front of you protectively as he instantly fought the monsters. But to your horror, they just kept emerging everywhere making you both run outside the cottage. “Neuvi, please be careful, protect the Merusea village, I need to go underwater and alert all the creatures.” He looked at you with worry, a sickening feeling of dread filling his heart. “No mon amour, it’s too dangerous, let me be with you.” “Neuvi there’s no time, they’re dangerous and the melusines are defenceless!” Both of you looked at one another as he rushed to embrace you, an unknown fear taking over his heart. “Please mon amour, be careful..” You nodded as you hugged him tight, however you both were forced to part as rifthounds advanced towards you. “I love you Neuvillette..” Those words that once filled his heart with joy now gave him a feeling of dread unlike any other. “I love you more than anything Y/N.”

If he knew that was going to be the last time he’d ever get to hold you close, the last time he’d hear you tell him that you love him, he would’ve held on for longer, he would’ve never left your side. It was all his fault, all his fault that you were gone. As he sat there all alone, sobbing in remorse, the haunting memories kept flooding his mind..

“My dears, there is a grave danger on land, I urge you all to hide, to blend in with the seas and protect yourselves. I will lend you my power so that no harm shall come to you all.” Your eyes glowed as you used a great deal of your powers to create a protective barrier on every single creature in the waters of Fontaine, making you significantly weaker. You swam back up on land, hoping to meet Neuvillette near the entrance of the Merusea village. But something told you that things were about to go wrong, as if these were your last moments. Your eyes widened seeing how many abyssal monsters had emerged, as you fought them to the best of your abilities, just trying to reach near Neuvillette. You knew you had spent a great deal of your power in protecting the oceans of Fontaine and you needed help in fighting until you regained your powers.

Neuvillette’s heart felt uneasy, his stomach churning in uncertainty as you did not come to him. Something had gone wrong, he could just feel it. Leaving every other thought aside, he rushed towards the shore, searching for you while fighting the wretched rifthounds. He called out your name, as the red sky started filling with dark clouds the longer he could not find you. And the very next moment, it was pouring rain. He ran towards you, instantly killing the monsters that had harmed you, dropping to his knees. There you lay, blood staining the sands as deep gashes were visible on your body. He held your weak frame in his arms, hugging you close while tears flowed down his eyes. “Mon Amour!! Please, please no..” Your trembling hand cupped his cheek, tears dropping down your eyes too while you smiled sadly, knowing that you could not be saved. “I..I’m sorry..” He shook his head, and the way he was crying desperately hurt you more than the deep wounds the rifthounds had left on you. “I..I promise..I’ll come back..w..when the tide comes in..I shall return to your s..side once more, my Hydro Dragon..”

Neuvillette started sobbing even more, hugging you close while your blood stained his clothes and skin. “No..no please Y/N, don’t leave me..please I’ll do something, I’ll save you..” He felt your thumb gently wipe away the tears, your cracked voice whispering perhaps the most painful words he had ever heard. “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry..I Y/N, swear on my soul that I will return to your side..I do not know how long it will take..but..I..I promise, this is just a temporary goodbye..Will you wait for me Neuvi?” He nodded through his tears “I will wait for you forever..” You gave him a soft heartbroken smile, leaning your forehead on his as your breathing turned into small gasps “then..then you have my word..when this body disappears, I will turn into water droplets…which will live in your heart…and one day, I’ll come back..I’ll…come..back-..” That was when your body fell limp, your hand dropping down lifelessly, your once warm body turning cold. Neuvillette roared in pain, his powers unleashing and turning every single monster on the land to dust. Storms raged, lighting struck as the Hydro dragon wailed in agony at the loss of his mate.

Your once beautiful self turned into pure droplets of hydro, and Neuvillette watched as they travelled to his chest, being absorbed by his heart. He clutched his chest, crying endlessly in misery. You were gone. His love, his mate, his wife had died right in his arms, and he could not do anything.

Neuvillette clutched his head, crying and begging for those memories to leave him. It was the most cruel form of torture that he had been enduring for the last 500 years. The only reason he was alive was because he had made a promise to you, and the remnants of your existence lived in his heart. Somewhere he still had a tiny sliver of hope that you would come back, but these five centuries of misery had left him scarred and broken. Ever since the day you had died, the oceans of Fontaine had been still as ever, the tides had disappeared completely, and no new life had emerged in the oceans. You were the elemental being that emerged from the purest waters of the ocean, having the power to control the tides. You were the guardian of the marine life of Fontaine, and it was due to your protection that they had been completely unharmed during the disaster. He placed his hand on his chest, begging you just like he had done all these years. “Please Mon Amour, I’m begging you, come back to me, I cannot live like this..I cannot be without you any longer. I need you back, please..Your dragon is broken without you..”

2 Days later, Neuvillette was walking alone by the beach, watching the sunset while memories of the two of you flooded his mind. Oh he still remembered the way your eyes would light up when you noticed how the ocean would reflect the pink and orange tones of the sky. For some reason he felt different today, as if a feeling of anticipation was in the air. He could not understand why, but he sat down on the sand just the way you both used to, watching the sunset.

Suddenly, he let out a gasp, as for the first time in 500 years, waves started forming in the waters, turning into tides that started crashing against the shore. He stood up hurriedly breathing heavily hoping this wasn’t just a dream. Could it be? He then looked down to see shimmering water droplets emerge from his chest, floating towards the water. Countless sea creatures came up to the surface of the ocean, circling around the droplets of water, and in front of his eyes, slowly but surely, the shimmering droplets turned into a beautiful young woman, a woman he so dearly loved, a woman he had been waiting for.

Tears filled his eyes, but for the first time they were because of happiness rather than the anguish he was so used to. There you stood, in all your glory, just as beautiful as he had remembered, if not more. He felt like he was dreaming, as he walked closer to the water. You opened your eyes, looking at the love of your life. You gave him a big smile, holding your arms open for him. “Neuvi..” This was the only thing that he needed to hear as he ran towards you, engulfing you in a desperate and loving embrace, his sobs being muffled in your skin. Light rain fell upon you both, as you caressed his hair, relishing the feeling of his embrace. You knew he had been in so much pain, you had felt it due to your conscience living in his heart. “Oh my love..I’m sorry it took me so long to return to your side again. I know you have suffered so much, but I promise you, nothing will separate us ever again.”

He pulled apart to look at you, lilac eyes scanning every inch of you as if still afraid that you’ll leave him. “You’re really back..oh gosh I’ve missed you terribly Mon Amour..” you placed a sweet kiss on his forehead, hugging him close as every creature in the waters of Fontaine celebrated your reincarnation, waves crashing merrily against one another. “Forgive me for taking so long my heart..But you’ve been so brave, and now I promise I won’t go away again.” After what seemed like ages, your lover calmed down, his tears slowing down as his gloved hands cupped your cheeks softly, his siren eyes filling with love and tenderness. You gave him your sweetest smile, kissing his cheeks as you also took in the warmth of his embrace. Your separation had been too long, and both of you had missed one another terribly.

“Hmm..I never knew you were so sophisticated Neuvillette~” baffled at your sudden playful remark, he ends up laughing at your words, shaking his head. Ah, so this is what happiness felt like. Yes, he remembered now, he remembered how much joy you would always give him. “Oh mon amour..you have no idea how much has happened in these last 500 years..” “Well then I suppose we will have a lot to talk about hm?” He nodded, embracing you ever so protectively. “Yes, but all of that can wait because all that matters to me is you.”

“I’m right here Neuvi, always and forever. These long and painful years shall be our first and last separation. I am bound to you forever..” He looked at you, a beautiful smile adorning his features. “This time, I’ll protect you with all my strength..” As the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes, intense emotions filled your hearts- Love, relief, joy and everything in between. Words were no longer needed, your souls were now complete, hearts full and minds at ease. You both were once again together, after having passed the ultimate test of time and love. Not even the long drawn separation could ever erase the love you both had for each other.

Overwhelmed by these emotions, you both leaned in, closing the gap between your awaiting lips and let them collide with the same intensity as the waves colliding with the shore. The kiss was tender and filled with pure and unending love, with promises of forever being sealed permanently. Now, nothing would ever come in between you both. Now, Neuvillette’s once dark world had been lit up by you again, and he would make sure it would always stay this way.

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months

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Fic Finder

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1. For fic finder: Instead of the Sunshot Campaign it is the western vs eastern clans who war. WWX and LWJ are on opposite sides but they recognize each other as honorable. At one point they work together to stop a village from getting flooded/some natural disaster. After the war I think LWJ asks for WWX as a war prize? Thank you!

FOUND! Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)

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2. Hello! I hope you can help me find this fic.

All I can remember is that it is a Post canon married life wherein wwx and lwj get into a huge fight (love quarrel). I think the fight was about wwx safety (lwj getting mad and so on)

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3. Hey, I would like to find a fanfic from the MDZS fandom that I once read on ao3. It was about how Jiang Cheng almost strangled Wei Wuxian after the lotus pier fell. He didn't help him, he just left him. He told others that Wei Wuxian was dead and did not admit to his actions. Lan Wangji then went to look for Wei Wuxian. He found him lying in the forest and thought he was dead. However, it turned out that the boy was still alive, but barely. He came back with him and I think that's when the truth came out and Gusu Lan became very protective of Wei Wuxian. I don't remember if it was a completed fanfic. Thank you in advance for helping me with my search. @braveavocadosstuff

FOUND? 🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

FOUND? Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman!WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

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4. Hello! For ficfinder, whenever you have the time. I have searched the female lan zhan/female Wei ying tag up and down for a fic I very distinctly remember reading. It was about a typical straight girl wei ying never org/asming, and so wen qing and mianmian set her up with well known lesbian icon Lan Zhan. And that conversation was in the fic summary, and there was a whole sequel with Wei ying coming out to jyl and jc. But I cannot find it, any help would be appreciated. (Even just finding out it’s been deleted)

FOUND! sideways by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 20k, wangxian, F/F, Modern, Cisswap, butch dyke LWJ, Casual Sex, not so casual sex, many many orgasms, Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, strap-on sex, So much kissing, WWX gets rekt, straight girl WWX, except for how she isn't)

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5. Hi! Thank you so much for all you do. Could you help me relocate this fic in which wwx finds out that instead of QHJ, the twin jades were actually conceived by other elders that broke their mother's seclusion so wwx takes revenge on their and their mothers behalf and puts the fear of well, himself, into those assholes? I can't remember what it was called but I feel like it was from LQRs pov (could be wrong tho). Thank you!!

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6. There's this fic that I read so long ago and I wish to read it again but I can't seem to find it. it was Wangxian and Wei Wuxian had his own sect in the burial mounds and I think they come down to Lanling or Yunmeng for a ceremony or competition. A-Yuan is a competitor and so is Jin Ling, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian talk about what happened in the burial mound and how they had survived.

FOUND? The Murder of Crows by cerbykerby (M, 101k, wangxian, slow burn, pining, yiling wei sect au, fluff & angst, dark, romance, WIP)

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7. Hello. I wanted a wangxian fic where lanzhan is the teacher and the juniors are his students. But they don't know that he is married. They make a group chat and later they get to know that lan yuan is lanzhans son, but he doesn't say anything about his other dad to his friends later when they get to know they ask him through chat.. At last they all get to know that jin ling is wei yings nephew. Its basically a chat type story. Please help me find it.

FOUND? Yearning by Sanguis (T, 9k, WangXian, LingYi, Modern AU, Professors, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Bunnies, Pre-Relationship Secrets)

FOUND? The Mystery of Professor Lan's and Professor Wei's private lives by SilverBells (G, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, online classes AU, Fluff, University AU, University second year LSZ, Humour)

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8. Hi!!! Luv ur blog sm! So I'm looking for a fic. I'm pretty sure its a twt threadfix where wwx d-words and reincarnates as a fox. Then he lives near cloud recesses with his fox family. He moved to the buny meadow and then later on ascends? or cultivates a human body becoming a huli jing. @fluffiestfluffer

FOUND! Pin the tail on the fox by RMoonberry (Not rated, 40k, wangxian, WIP, fox WWX, Reincarnation, Good Uncle LQR, WWX is too attractive huli jing, Light Angst, LXC is very naive, WWX & JC's reconciliation, the family feels, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, WWX is pampered, Typical Canon Violence, Spirit Animals, Shapeshifter, Canon Divergence, white hair WWX, Non-consensual drug use, historical inaccuracy, mythical beasts, Implied Torture, Inaccurate use of medicines)

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9. Very good, I love your content and I wanted to know if you or your followers could help me find some fanfic.

A) -I remember that a wangxian is about demons and angels where both sides are in conflict and lan wangji along with his brother his brother are the heirs of the angels and wei wuxian is the heir of the demons a succubus if not wrong and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet in the human world and fall in love even though their families are enemies.

B) - I don't remember if it was a modern Lan Zhan or Wang Jibo but it is about her traveling to the universe of ancient Mo Dao Zu Shi as Lan Wangji, second heir of Gusu Lan and how the world changes and her relationship with Wei Wuxian with her presence. and the decisions he makes, although I don't remember if he knows what world he is in or if he doesn't know what world he is in or if he was a wangxian or xianwang, that would be what I remember and it's a bit vague, sorry.

C) -and the last one is about the characters in mo dao zu shi are trapped in a room or it was a barrier well the thing is that they don't know why and they are made to see what a future would be like where lan wangji is the one who manages the resentful energy and what's more he is a xianwang.

I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, it's because I've been looking for them and I can't find them and I haven't even finished reading. You would be very helpful to me if you could help me. @alfithia

9A)

FOUND? The World Ends Eventually, So Come with Me by ValorousOwl (M, 14k, WIP, WangXian, Angels and Demons AU, Mpreg, Canon-Typical Violence, loosely based on Tete's Angels and Demons art, Succubus!WWX, Angel!LWJ, Eventual WangXian, and also past wangxian, I feel like I need to tag religious trauma, OOC behavior, Memory Alteration, Gaslighting)

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10. Hi! Please help me find this old fic. Unfortunately, i dont remember much. It's space au i think. WW wakes up in his space ship after long sleep (?). Then he found another spaceship and find out that spaceship hold many children. Those children is experimented to have an animal feature/abilities. There are the junior (i dont remember if its junior quartet or trio). WWX then rescue those children. Then he search for another spaceship that contain experimented children. There are cameo of hualian and bingqiu. I dont remember if its completed story or a WIP.

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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11. 👋 Hello

I'm looking for fics where wwx actually answered inquiry and people discovered the secrets and truths. Thank you 😊 @karinasnowwwx

FOUND? just because it's what i am by kokozy (G, 4k, wangxian, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Ghost WWX, Song: Inquiry, Truth comes to light, Revelations, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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12. I've got an oddly specific nsfw fic to find. There's a bottomji fic out there somewhere in which WWX asks LWJ to go soft during sex through sheer willpower? Fairly certain he manages it. I can't get it off my mind lately, so if anyone knows the title, I'd be very grateful! Thank you @kedaliya

FOUND! Shiver by anaphoricae (E, 119k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/sub, Dominant WWX, Submissive LWJ, Friends With Benefits, Pining while fucking, Brief mentions of LWJ/others and WWX/others, Co-workers, Praise Kink, POV LWJ, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Office Sex, Rope Bunny LWJ, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube, Aftercare, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Blow Jobs, Snowballing, Service Submission, (but it's very light. like. they dip their toes in it), Lingerie, Jealous WWX, Subspace, Cock Rings, not a Subdrop but not exactly a Sublift either, Cock Warming, Collars, Angst, Power Play, Orgasm Control, Miscommunication, Face Slapping, Impact Play, Rigger WWX, BDSM fetish party, Public Blow Jobs, Rope Suspension, Cuddlefucking, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Choking, Body Worship, Jealous LWJ) chapter 3

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13. For ff: Hi! I am looking for a fic I read about two years back. WWX and the Wens planted a ton of red spider lilies (corpse flowers) all throughout the Burial Mounds. I think they started with just one or two but WWX carefully tended the bulbs and they flourished. They might have also been medicinal? I think the fic is set after WWX dies because I remember the other clan cultivators coming and looking through the town and being amazed at the flowers. Maybe Wen Ning was there too? Thank you!

FOUND? Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, wangxian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of WWX's canonical abusive childhood)

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14. and if Lán Zhan | Lán Wàngjī placed in front of the sword in the tombs and not Jiang Yanli to protect Weiying.

Please, I've been looking for this Fanfic on Ao3 for days and I can't find it. @lluyvernno

FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, wangxian, JC & JYL & WWX, LXC/NMJ, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Not Everyone Dies AU, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Loss, YLLZ WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

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15. Hello! I hope you are having a great day!

I apologize but I also hope you can help me find these 5 fics (I’m sorry) that keeps getting to my head (which made wanted to read again but can’t find it). Thank you so much.

A.) Juniors ask LSZ what does WWX look in his old body and LSZ paints him. Juniors did not believe that painting until one day WWX got his old body back and Juniors were shocked

B.) I remember LWJ travel back in time and ask people in gusu that he’ll stay there until his husband fetch him. I also remember young lwj getting jealous because young wwx is close to old lwj

C.) About juniors where in I think they are in a night hunt. I remember LSZ doesn’t want to remove his robe when injured because he doesn’t want the juniors especially jin ling that he is a wen and had the burned mark logo on his chest.

D.) Married wangxian wherein there is a Clan (full of girls) who are homophobics that needed their help. I only remember a scene where wwx got jealous and very angry because the girl from that clan keeps trying to steal LWJ from him.

E.) I remember people got wwx journal and reads it. And found out what his conditions and the whens. I also remember there is a page in wwx journal filled with Blood and really bad handwriting (i think it was the last page)

15A)

FOUND! Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut)

15B)

FOUND! 💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, First Love, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humor, teen wangxian meet adult wangxian, Happy Ending, Denial, Mutual Pining)

15D)

FOUND! Just As Much by Gemiblu (E, 23k, WangXian, Jealousy, Boys In Love, Homophobia, demonic cultivation bondage, Power Bottom WWX, Cockblocking, Semi-Public Sex, Crying During Sex, Intimacy, New World, Female Characters, Casual Intimacy, mentions of non-canon character death, description of violent acts, post marriage, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, Affection, supportive married couple, Pet Names, YLLZ WWX)

15E)

FOUND! dormiveglia (in between sleeping and waking) by comforting_monachopsis (M, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Diary/Journal, Golden Core Reveal, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Protective WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sort Of, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Dead WWX, Angst and Tragedy)

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16. Hi! Please help me find this fic. Its modern cultivation au where WWX, WQ, WN called for a night hunt by a mayor. They are not the only one called, the mayor called Lan clan too to solve a problem that related to Mo manor (?). WWX has a past with Lan clan that make him have a grudge with them. So, 10 years ago, WWX and LWJ has a mission that resulted WWX hospitalized. He is poisoned (a deadly one) and almost died. But he didnt recieve a care because he is fired by the Lan because he was reported many times of misconduct by LWJ. The Lan clan too claimed that they already give a notice email that WWX didnt recieved. Back to present, LWJ who only heard of that story start to investigate and found out it was Su She who made WWX fired from the job

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ's canonically big dick, sort of a 'thirsting for your co-worker ex' vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

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17. I have a description so I’m hoping it can be found bc I can’t personally find it myself for some reason: LZ & his brother are immortals who get caught up in a murder mystery w JC & WY. WY (& this I remember /super/ clearly) at one point sneaks into LZ’s attic & finds his old cultivation gear in addition to a portrait of YLLZ!WWX & is bitch slapped w/ memories of his past life. WY is on deaths door, also & LZ gives up his immortality so they can be together, as well. @arisuamichan

FOUND? I think this fic is "Monotone" by Seredemia and I think it was deleted. I only have a google drive link for it. The scene with the attic is in Chapter 19. -bluekittenfire

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18. Apologies for dropping this in right after you've posted a fic finder. I'm looking for two fics.

A) The first is where Lan Wangji, having learned Wei Wuxian has lost his core, uses an old technique that allows him to grow a second golden core (the idea being the user would absorb the second to make the original stronger), so he can donate one golden core to Wei Wuxian.

B) The second is where Wei Wuxian has been cursed or enchanted in some way that he can't remember Lan Wangji, who enters the Burial Mounds disguised as a new Wen so he can get to the bottom of it with the other Wens helping him in the ruse. There's a scene close to the end where he comes across Wei Wuxian being wooed by someone (think it was Su She) wearing his Wen disguise. It leads to a confrontation where Wei Wuxian tries to defend the false Lan Wangji against the real one and it leads to the spell breaking.

Thank you, and again, apologies for the poor timing!

18A)

NOT FOUND! 🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Lots of Angst, Hurt/Comfort, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect, Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

FOUND! these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, wangxian, fix-it, fluff & angst, happy ending, WWX gets a new core, hurt/comfort, slow burn, pining, canon-typical violence & gore)

18B)

I have recently read 18B 😭😭😭 I wish there was a way to filter search history. Can the asker please bookmark this post cause I'll come back there to post it when I find it.

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19. Hello hello hello

I am looking for a fic I’m 90% I found on y’all’s blog and I meant to bookmark it for later and I didn’t and so now it is lost. 😔. But the summary was something like a negotiation between WWX and LWG and WWX makes a joke that goes along the lines of “well if you want nothing else then I’ll have to offer you my body.” And then LWG’s eyes like darken or something and WWX is like “oh you do want that.”

I hope this is enough and makes sense.

Y’all do gods work btw and it’s greatly appreciated 🫡🫡🫡

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20. Hey :), I'm just trying to find an all old fic where Wei Wuxian didn't get torn to pieces and instead ended up immortalised. I half suspect that it was removed from ao3 but the details are as follows: wwx 'dies' but is found breathing, the cultivation world examines his body and finds him at gates of immortality essentially.

At this point JC figures out the core thing because they build a shrine for him and bring suiban (still sealed but he can remove it) and LQR does too (independently examing the body). When demonic cultivation starts being a problem again LQR starts a rumour that they need to "fight fire with fire' and efforts begin after 13 years to resurect Wei Ying. He wakes up mad, storms into a conference and LWJ follows him out when he storms out. He bumps into Jingyi at the koi tower steps, later down the line adopts Mo XuanYi from the Mo village (joking that his name is stranger isntead of saying hes the YLZ), end up wearing lwj overrobe at one point and finally once again travelling with LY and LJY.

Plot really picks up when they enter the town which was affected by the demonic cultivation. It is deserted, but they encounter the being that tormented him in the burial mound, XY, and other new-immortals. Its revelead immortality is gained through suffering like WWX had and he's forced to accept a demonic core to save JC and JL. He dies once again in Gusu but LWJ keeps pooling qi into him, which makes his resurrection faster.

I'll stop here cause this is getting a bit long, but I hope this is enough for you to help me find the fic. THANK U SO MUCH! @geminimind05

FOUND! If One for you, then One for us by KusakabeNAyako (T, 85k, wangxian, WIP, Canon Divergence, WWX has no time for your shit, He died alredy leave him be, fucking up canon, WN is precious Cinnamon roll, WWX is precious cinnamon roll, Rape/Non-con Elements, YLLZ WWX)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

111 notes · View notes

pastshadows · 4 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 6: Reminiscence

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

Plucking the letter from Gale’s hands, you read it carefully.

“Saer, I understand we may have had a disagreement, but your behaviour was unwarranted. My father informed me you wish to apologize for your unseemly conduct, and I will permit this on one condition - you must come alone.

If you fail to come alone, we will notify the authorities about your uncouth etiquette. This is quite an insult to my family and one we cannot allow to go unpunished.

I expect to see you before the sun sets tomorrow.

Aldous.”

You cringe while reading the letter. Your face contorts in an affronted grimace, and your savage temper burns. This man feels no guilt or shame for his behaviour if he can scarcely remember it, which you imagine he doesn’t.

Uncouth etiquette? Ugh, nobles!

Astarion’s hands are on your arms as he reads the letter over your shoulder. You can feel him tense, his grip on your arms intensifying ever so slightly. His lips are set in a grim, cruel line, and his brows are pulled down in a fierce scowl.

Once you’ve finished reading the letter, you crumple it up, and fire explodes to life in your palm, burning it to ash in seconds.

Pulling away from Astarion, you turn to face them both. Astarion and Gale stare at you intensely. They wear calamitous scowls, with their arms crossed over their chests, clearly agitated.

This is not going to be fun.

“You can both stop looking at me like that.”

Astarion’s voice is low and strained as he attempts to control it, but it still trembles angrily, “Absolutely not. There is no way I’m letting you go alone.”

Before you can get a word in, Gale decides to pipe up, “I agree with Astarion. This does not feel right. We will find another way to deal with this.”

“I could simply kill them,” Astarion shrugs while playing with this dagger, “That’s a very definite way to deal with this.”

Gale’s brows rise, “We hardly need to jump straight to murder!”

“We haven’t jumped to any conclusions, Gale. You could simply walk away right now and allow me to handle it, so to speak.”

“Why is it always murder with you, Astarion?” Gale’s forehead creases into an annoyed frown.

Astarion shrugs, “It’s expedient.”

You stare at them with your arms crossed while they argue as if you’re not standing right here.

Gods.

You intervene, “Will you both just shut up for a moment?”

Astarion and Gale fall silent, their eyes snapping toward you, but their pensive looks remain splattered across their faces. The licking flames of the fire cast shadows that make their expressions appear even more galled.

“I’m going to apologize to Aldous, and I will go alone as stipulated,” you state as if it’s a matter of fact.

Astarion scoffs harshly, “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m dead serious, Astarion.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, and his forehead creases in an irritated scowl, “Gods help me,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated, “You’re being a bloody idiot, you know.”

Astarion is not one to sugarcoat things, even when it comes to you. He’s more than happy to tell you exactly what he thinks. Perhaps some would hold that against him, viewing him as rude or abrasive, but you admire him for it. Too often, people hold their tongue and force you to try and guess what they’re thinking.

You gasp dramatically and bring your hand to your mouth, feigning shock, “An idiot?! You wound me, Astarion!”

Astarion snickers, “I nearly forgot how difficult it is to argue with you.”

“I’m happy to provide you with a reminder,” you retort with your best candied smile.

“Now, hold on,” Gale holds his hand up, “There’s no need to make hasty decisions.”

“It’s not hasty, Gale. It’s my decision, and I’ve made it.”

“Darling,” Astarion purrs, “it’s dangerous.”

Gale sighs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this again, but Astarion is correct.”

“Do you two even remember who you are talking to? You both followed me through the Underdark, Grymforge, the Shadowlands, a mind-flayer oubliette, and up the stem of a Netherbrain. Do you truly believe I cannot handle one pathetic human?”

“My friend, we know you have extraordinary talent and are more than capable of defending yourself if need be, but you’re not infallible.”

“Neither are either of you,” you point at them.

“Speak for yourselves,” Astarion drawls, “I don’t die easily.”

You scowl at him, “But you can die, however unlikely.”

“My sweet, I’m already dead.”

I can’t lose him again.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I mean, Astarion.”

“Better me than you,” he concludes confidently.

No. Never.

Your heart sinks at the steadfast intonation in his voice. He’s deadly serious, and you hate that he believes with no uncertainty that his death would be preferable to yours. His disappearance was one thing, but his death? You cannot stand to imagine a world which is void of him.

You leer at him with a defiant, razor-sharp edge to your features, and he leers right back at you with the same severity.

Gale looks nervously between you, “No one is going to die. I’m positive we can make Mr. Blackwell see reason.”

“You’re right, Gale,” you seethe, eyes still boring into Astarion, “No one is going to die because I will apologize, and then we can forget this incident ever happened. If you two will excuse me, I’ll be in my room.”

Before either of them can say another word, you turn away and stomp up the stairs to your room, resisting the urge to slam the damn door in your fury. Your mind wars between wanting to break something or break down and cry at the notion of Astarion’s demise. How could he so callously throw his death in your face?

And he called me the idiot?

You wash your face and re-line your eyes with the kohl liner in the room off the main. Astarion is there with his arms crossed, looking irked when you return. You jump slightly and scowl at him as he sits in the chair by your bed.

“Don’t bother trying to talk me out of apologizing.”

He scoffs, “You did hear Gale agree with me, yes? That never happens. I think you should reconsider.”

“Oh, yes, you and Gale teaming up on me was quite the experience. Miracles do happen!”

“You’re being an idiot,” Astarion says sharply.

“And you’re being overprotective. You and Gale both.”

“Of course, I want to protect you!”

You sigh, “I don’t need your protection, Astarion.”

“If you continue running headfirst into danger,” he tuts, “I think you might.”

You slip quickly out of your clothes. Astarion stares at you in shock, leaning back in the chair with heavily lidded eyes, which is precisely the reaction you’re aiming for. Anything to get his mind off arguing with you. Those eyes take your body in with a passionate, red-hot gaze.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“I don’t know,” you giggle, “Is it working?”

“Considerably.”

“At least it got you to shut your big mouth.”

You glide into a tapered blue dress with metal clasps running up the front.

“Oh, I remember the comments you used to make about my big mouth. What were they… Ah, yes,” he mimics your moaning voice as best he can, and rather loudly, “Astarion, Gods, your tongue is extraordinary,” or perhaps it was “Fuck! Astarion, please don’t stop.”

You rush up to him and stifle his cries with your hand, climbing into his lap, “Hush!”

He giggles, “Shy, darling?”

“No, but if you keep bragging, you’re going to pique Gale’s natural curiosity, and he might want to join.”

“Oh, no, love,” his arm wraps around your shoulders, “I don’t share. Not you. Not anymore.”

Not anymore?

You cock your head, “You never shared me.”

He blinks, “I did with that giant ogre of an Elf, Halsin. We spoke of it. Remember?”

He thought Halsin and I? Oh...

“Yes. I vividly remember you telling me you didn’t care with your words, but your body and eyes told me a very different story.”

“Oh,” he looks around abashed, “You caught onto that, did you?”

“You’re not as subtle as you wish to believe you are.”

“You and Halsin? Never, even though I said it was fine?”

“I believe your exact words were, “I’m happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish” but I wish only for you, so no, never.”

“Huh,” his brows knit together, “and here I thought you two were running away in the middle of the night to spare my feelings.”

“You shouldn’t have had any feelings about it if you “didn’t care.”

“I cared.”

Another time he lied to me.

“Then why didn’t you say something, Astarion? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I…,” Astarion rakes his fingers through his hair with a sigh, “We weren’t, well, you know, at the time.”

It’s still hard for him to open up.

“I fail to see why that matters.”

He gives you a stony-faced glare. He’s taking this seriously, without his usual attempts to trivialize the matter, “You want the truth, even when it hurts?”

Oh no…

Do I?

“Yes,” you nod as your heart rate kicks up, “the truth.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to perish when we went after Cazador, and I didn’t want you to be alone if I did. And I was still not good at saying no, especially to you.”

His eyes dart from side to side rapidly. He’s leaving something out, and you can tell. You wait patiently for him to continue, and he looks at you and groans.

“Go on, Astarion.”

“I wasn’t sure I would ever want to be…” his voice is strained, almost as if he needs to force the word out, “intimate with anyone again. I could never have expected you to live a life where your needs were not met. I planned on slipping away quietly if I decided that was the case."

Did he plan to leave me twice without a goodbye?

You close your eyes for a second and swallow the pain his confession brings. You asked for this, and it wasn’t his fault. He had still been figuring out who he was and what he wanted. At the time, he had given you no promises as to what you and he were.

“I’m sor-”

You put your finger to his lip and smile, “No. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you told me, but I have one question.”

“Ask it.”

“Do you truly want to be intimate, or do you push yourself because you don’t want to tell me no?”

Astarion’s hand cradles your face, and he kisses you intimately as if making a point, “What I said, at my grave, was all true - I love you, and I want it all, with you and only you.”

I love you.

He said it for the first time since he’s been back.

Do I say it back?

Perhaps Astarion caught onto your hesitation, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but he moves the conversation along before you can figure out how you want to respond.

“It seems you’ve gotten yourself all dressed up, and surely that’s not just for me. Where are you off to today?”

“I-” I love you too , you think, but the words don’t come out, “I have to send a letter to Shadowheart. I’ve also been neglecting the puppies and kittens that need a hero.”

He chuckles, “Putting your talents to good use, as always. Does the cat not deliver letters? She has wings.”

“No, Astarion. Tara is not a messenger pigeon.”

“Does she even earn all that warm milk she gobbles up?”

You roll your eyes at him, “Should I make you start earning my blood?”

“Depends on how you would make me earn it, I suppose,” he winks.

“By making you teach me lock picking, of course. How else?”

He smirks, “You and I have tried this multiple times, my dear.”

“Giving up on me, Astarion?”

He kisses your forehead, “Never.”

The sun is starting to sink in the sky while you make your way to the courier. Large ships float in the bay, bobbing with the waves. The streets are still rather busy and make you relatively uncomfortable. You can’t help but constantly scan the crowds, watching for potential danger. It seems that is a habit most of you haven’t been able to break.

Not a bad habit to have - all things considered.

You finally managed to write some semblance of a reply to Shadowheart and want to get it sent out before you lose your nerve. Once you send the letter, you stop at a few small shops and browse the bobbles and trinkets.

Overpriced hunks of junk meant to dupe the less versed into buying them. For such a large city, you had yet to find a shop containing anything worthwhile, but you haven’t traversed much of it.

Perhaps Astarion and I can remedy that.

The chill of night starts to bite the air, making you shiver, and you decide it’s time to return home. Day turns into night quickly as the sun seems to submerge in the bay water, extinguishing its radiant illumination.

The manor is silent when you arrive. Grabbing your coat, you head out into the large square courtyard. It boasts opulent statues of a veiny grey-white stone you don’t recognize, beautiful fountains, and high stone walls covered in grapevines.

It’s peaceful out here, serene, and you enjoy the quietness. You light the large brazier with a flick of your wrist. Sitting on a stone bench, your mind wanders back to when you lived with Astarion, and this time you don’t try to push the memories away.

“Darling! I’m home!” Astarion stumbles into the door, staggering slightly and giggling at himself.

He’s back early tonight.

You get up from the chair where you’re reading near the fire and look him up and down. His shirt and pants are torn in jagged cuts. He’s bleeding from several wounds, but none of them are dire or cause for concern. With the tadpole gone, his vampiric healing abilities were restored, and he healed incredibly fast.

He looks drunk, but you’ve seen this kind of drunk several times, “You’re home early.”

“You would not believe what I found!” he chimes with boyish excitement.

“Let me guess… A bear?”

He giggles, “How did you know?”

“Your clothes are torn, you’re bleeding, and blood drunk.”

“Look at you, always so clever. It’s one of the things I love about you. Would you like to go out for a walk?”

You giggle, “Pass me my coat, love.”

“Come take it from me,” he drawls with guilefully.

You try to grab your coat, but he tugs it away before you can get it and swiftly dips you into a passionate kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sweep his hair back, “If you keep kissing me like that, we aren’t going to make it far on this walk.”

“Oh,” he grins deviously, “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Astarion helps you into your coat, and you start your meandering walk. Fog hovers low to the ground, making it appear misty. The chirping cries of various bugs call out into the otherwise calm air.

“Tell me, love. What kind of things can you do with that fire of yours beyond fireballs.”

You pout dramatically, “Not impressed by my abilities anymore, Astarion?”

“You impress me every day you choose to put up with me.”

What?

Concern laces into your voice, “Astarion…”

He cuts you off, “Show me a trick.”

You cock your head, “A trick?”

“Yes, what haven’t I seen?”

A sphere of molten flame springs to life in your palm, rotating leisurely. You force it to burn brighter and grow so large it’s almost as if you’re holding a miniature sun. The light cast off it brightens your surroundings to an almost day-like appearance. It twirls and flickers in the bright cardinal red of his eyes.

“Well, now, that is rather impressive. It’s almost like being in the sun again.”

He misses the sun.

You giggle, “Not the impressive part, but if you would like to take your shirt off and bask in it, I wouldn’t say no.”

He smirks, “You are always trying to get my shirt off. I can’t blame you, I suppose - I am magnificent.”

“You are.”

You focus on the sphere and break it into two orbs that chase each other quickly above your palm. Fire is your element, your gift. You think or speak, and it responds in compliance.

Suddenly, the orbs crash together and turn into a raging, galloping herd of horses. Tails and manes made of fire trailing behind their rowdy bucks and rears. You blink, and the fire becomes a sea of liquid flame, vast waves crashing harshly and rolling softly.

You flick through whatever runs through your mind, and the flames continue to adjust their form, birds flitting about, a dog chasing after a ball, a bear standing and swiping furiously, which elicits a smug smirk from Astarion.

Letting the flames die down slightly, they reshape themselves into the figure of a man. The finer details are lost, of course, but it is undoubtedly Astarion. The figure crosses his arms when Astarion does, waves back at him, seemingly walks on air over your palm and bends forward as Astarion does to get a better look.

“How do you make it do that?”

You let the figure peter out and shrug, “I think, and it reacts.”

“Have you always had such command over it?”

A burning house. Scared faces. Smoke-choked, craggy screams.

Images from your past flash into your mind, but you push them away. These are things not even Astarion knows; nobody does. You keep these secrets close and locked away.

“No,” you cast your eyes downward, “not always.”

“I see,” he cocks his head at you, eyes focused.

He knows I’m keeping something from him.

“I’ve shown you mine. Now, you show me yours.”

He chuckles, “Darling, I’ve been showing you mine for months now.”

“You know what I mean,” you tut, “Show me a trick.”

“What would you like to see?”

“Surprise me. What can you do that I have not yet witnessed.”

He thinks for a second, his thumb and index finger coming to his chin.

In a flash, before you even have time to perceive his movements, a blade glints in the moonlight and whizzes past your head, tumbling through the air and imbeds itself into a tree behind you, slightly off to your side.

You cross your arms and eye him skeptically, “I’ve seen you throw daggers before.”

He smirks, “Come. Take a closer look.”

Astarion’s hand presses into the small of your back as you approach the tree his dagger wedged into. He yanks it out of the split bark and holds it up in the moonlight for you. A spider carcass split cleanly through the absolute middle is impaled on the razor-sharp tapered tip.

Perhaps you shouldn’t be surprised, but his accuracy in the low light was astonishing.

“How did you even see that?”

“See it? No, my sweet. My eyesight is good, but it’s not that good. My hearing, however.”

Your eyes widen, and your mouth drops open, “Are you trying to tell me you heard it and pinpointed its exact location?”

“A trick you haven’t seen, yes?”

You giggle, “Okay, I will admit, that’s impressive.”

“I’m glad I still have the power to impress you,” he bows shallowly.

“Can you teach me that?”

“To hear better? I’m afraid you’ll have to join the cult of the undead for that perk, and I rather like you warm and alive.”

“I will settle for just the throwing of the dagger. I wouldn’t want to deny you my,” you stare at him seductively through hooded eyes, “warmth.”

Astarion grins, “You want me to teach you?”

“Of course, why not?”

“You’re a rather powerful sorceress from what I gather, but your gifts do not extend to your dexterity, and it is rather lacking, I’m afraid.”

“Are you afraid I’ll be better than you, Astarion?”

He laughs loudly, “No, my love. I’m afraid you’ll end up cutting yourself horrendously.”

“I guess you’re just not up for the challenge,” you pout, “pity.”

“You naughty girl,” he tuts, “You know I can’t resist you’re adorable sulking. Come here.”

Astarion wipes the dagger free of the spider, throws it in the air, flips it over and catches the blade deftly in his fingers without cutting himself, handing the hilt to you.

You take the smooth handle in your hands, and he moves behind you, pressing himself up against you as he guides your body into a better position.

You throw the dagger several times. It doesn’t even get to the tree most of the time, and if it does, it hits awkwardly and bounces off the bark with a thump.

He giggles, “You’re positively terrible at this.”

“You’re pressed up against me, with your hands roaming all over me. It’s incredibly distracting.”

“Darling,” his tongue clicks in disapproval, “there will always be some sort of distraction.”

“Could you manage it distracted?”

He nuzzles your neck, “Your presence is perpetually distracting.”

“Oh, I think I could make you falter.”

His eyes narrow, but his intonation remains playful, “I would like to see you try.”

“Would you now? Well, that can be arranged.”

You kiss his cheek before moving away from him and handing him the dagger with a wry smile, “Are you up for the challenge?”

It’s your way of making sure he’s comfortable with the intimacy tonight.

He smirks with a sultry lowered brow, “Am I ever.”

You start slow by pressing yourself up against his back as he had been doing to you, kissing his neck and your hands snake under his shirt and glide smoothly up the contours of his body.

He groans but throws the dagger, perfectly hitting his mark. He retrieves it and comes sauntering back happily.

“Good effort,” he giggles.

“Oh, I am not even close to done. Again?”

He nods, and you wrap yourself around him again, pressing your hips into him, nibbling on his ear gently, kissing the back of his neck. Your hands snake over his body, down to the bulge in his trousers, and you smirk to yourself at the jerk of his hips pushing himself further into your touch.

Your fingers undo the ties at the front that hold them tightly to his waist, and you slip your hand in, grasping his pulsing erection. A hiss escapes his lips at your caress. Precum trickles from the swollen head.

He growls deeply in his chest but throws the dagger and once again hits his mark. He retrieves it and saunters back to you, “Again?”

He wants me to keep going.

You nod, “Again.”

This time, you stroll around him until you’re facing him and give him a passion-fuelled kiss, grinding your hips into him.

He mutters, “Not fair. I can’t exactly hear a tree, darling.”

You giggle against his lips, “We can’t have it be unfair, can we?”

You drop to your knees in front of him and slip your hands into the waistband of his breeches. His eyes are hooded seductively, and he nods his approval. You pull them down carefully and set free his throbbing erection.

Precum glistens, still dribbling out of the tip, and your core clenches with the thought of tasting him, “You can see now, can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his reply before taking him into your mouth, engulfing him in wet heat. Swirling your tongue around him, you savour his flavour, eliciting a hiss from his panting mouth. He throws the dagger, and you hear the resounding thud as it bounces off the tree and settles in the grass.

He hauls you off your knees, and his mouth meets yours with a primal, almost ferocious vigour that makes your swollen flesh ache, desperate for his stroke. You whimper into his mouth as his tongue parts your lips.

“Don’t hold back tonight,” he moans low.

This is his way of letting you know that he’s feeling confident in himself, with no hesitations or reservations. You’re free to let go and allow your passion and desire to run wild.

“I won’t,” you confirm.

His fingers slip into your waistband. The chill makes you shudder as he parts your folds slick with arousal, and the pads of his fingers find your pulsing clit. Your sonorous cry rings out into the night.

“Whatever are you thinking about?”

Astarion’s voice drags you out of the memory before it can finish playing out in your mind.

Probably for the better.

You clear your throat, “Nothing.”

Astarion points to the fire with a smug look. It’s burning much too high and much too hot to be natural. You take deep breaths and the fire calms.

“That did not look like nothing.”

He sits beside you, interlacing his fingers at the back of his head and stretching while staring at you with shrewd awareness you wish he didn’t possess.

“Do you remember the forest we used to go walking in?”

“Of course, which time are you speaking of? As I remember, there were many,” he grins at you with an alluring smirk.

“You were drunk on a bear and asked me to show you a trick.”

“You mean the night I took you against that tree, then again on the dew-dampened ground, and then again, once we got home?” he muses.

You flush but push through your bashfulness, “I believe it was me who took you on the ground. If I remember correctly, I was on top.”

“You were,” he smiles, “I did not wish to freeze you half to death on the cold earth.”

“Convenient excuses.”

He chuckles, “Cheeky girl. What has you thinking about that?”

“Why did you take me to the forest the very first time?”

You have an idea as to why he did it. A “tactical manipulation,” as he called it, but you’ve never inquired further as to his motivations or feelings. Why would he feel the need to manipulate you when you were already helping and protecting him? Was it you he loathed and was disgusted with?

You know he wasn’t very fond of you when you met, but were all those moments a lie? You’ve never asked, not wishing to know the answers.

Perhaps I have been running for much longer than I thought.

He leans forward and rubs his hands together, “You know why.”

“Yes, seduce me and sleep with me so I would never turn on you. I know what you said, but I was already helping you, protecting you. I let you bite me, and you nearly killed me for it. Why bother sleeping with me?”

He shrugs, but his eyes cast away from you as if ashamed, “Centuries of conditioning taught me that was the quickest way to gain someone's loyalty, I suppose.”

Do I dare ask? Do I want to know?

You grimace, jaw tightening and force the question out that has plagued you since he confessed in the first place, “Were you disgusted with me? Did you loathe me in those moments?”

His eyes round in surprise, mouth dropping open, “What?”

You feel the familiar sensation of tears wishing to be shed, but you swallow it, “You said being intimate brought up feelings of disgust and loathing. Was it me? Was I what you loathed and were disgusted with?”

“Don’t you ever think that!”

The course intonation is jarring, and you draw back, stunned. He grits his teeth, the muscles in his neck straining. When he speaks again, his voice is supple and soothing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. It was never you I was disgusted with,” he sighs, “It was myself. I finally found my freedom, my autonomy, and yet, I was still doing what I was programmed to do.”

“Did it mean anything to you?”

“It…” he pauses, thinking, “confused me.”

“Confused you? Why?”

“Because even though it brought up those same terrible feelings, I wanted more, and I never craved more from any of my… targets.”

“More?”

He nods, “Much more.”

You sit stunned in silence and watch the flames as you process his words. He wanted more? More of what? More casual sex or more of you?

Perhaps a conversation for another time.

“Can you still do it?”

“Huh?” He drags you away from your rumination, “Do what?”

He points at the fire with a smirk, and you smirk right back at him. You barely have to think, and the fire takes his shape. It mimes his movements with an other-worldly precision. As long as you keep your eyes on him, the fire will mimic what you see.

“Uncanny,” he whispers.

Relinquishing your mastery over it, the fire returns to its natural state immediately.

“I should go to bed,” you say with a palpable reluctance in your voice.

“As should I. Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Goodnight.”

Slipping into your bed, your eyes drift closed, but your mind doesn’t drowse. The conversations with Astarion revolve in your thoughts, tugging at the strings of your heart and making it croon longingly.

Memories you’ve repressed wrench at the edges of your contemplations, pleading to be recollected after spending so much time in the void you pushed them down into. That is a bottomless pit of despair you’re not ready to confront yet, and you push them away.

“I love you, and I want it all.”

His words ricochet around, scattering your wits, and you toss in your bed, unable to find a comfortable position. Your hand snakes to the empty spot in your bed and glides down the sheet.

Your thoughts veer to memories of waking up in the dead of night distressed by a nightmare or a particularly unsettling memory, and your hand drifting over your bed and finding the comfort of Astarion’s presence.

Gods. I miss that. The reassurance. The safety. My little star, shining in the dark.

Sitting up with a sigh, you stare at your door and then flop back down, scolding yourself for being so afraid. You don’t know what scares you more - being with him or being without him?

If you want to be with him, you must accept that one day you might wake up to another letter, be it 20 years or 200 years in the future. If you failed to find a way to extend your life, could he watch you grow old and eventually die? Could you even expect him to? If the tables were turned, you’re not sure you would have the strength.

If you force yourself to remain his friend, you’re denying yourself the one thing you want most in this world. You’ve lived without him long enough to know the pain and loneliness of an existence without him. Is that the life you want for yourself? Do you let fear prevent your happiness?

You stare at the ceiling, trying to force yourself to be carried away by your trance, but your hand continues to coast to that empty spot, bemoaning the vacant absence.

Does my absence ever keep him awake?

The chilled hardwood of the floor hits your feet before you even register you’re getting out of bed. Your hand hesitates at the door handle, trying to regain command of your body.

Home is right down the hall, and you yearn disparagingly for it. What keeps you tethered to this spot and stuck in his purgatory with your wants in a chaotic war with your timidity?

Fear… I’ve let it shackle me long enough.

With a deep breath to steady yourself, you leave your room and creep down the hall. Your bare feet tread softly, and your heart stutters as his door draws nearer.

You let yourself in quietly. His room is pitch black, and a small flame flicks to life in your palm instinctively. To your astonishment, he still rests peacefully, and you revel in the serenity of his expression. He looks unburdened by his fear.

Astarion’s eyes open in narrow slits, still heavy with the lingering depth of his trace. They lazily drift to you, and his brow rises slightly.

His voice is deep, weighted down with rest, “Are you alright?”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

A small smile creeps across his lips as he blinks slowly. He motions you forward with his fingers, “Come on. Get over here.”

Astarion throws the blankets back as you approach, and you slip onto his bed. He props himself up on his arm and looks deeply into your eyes, “Is everything okay?”

You sink into those deep, sleepy crimson eyes and brush some silver strands of his hair back out of his face, “It is now.”

He kisses your cheek and gently pulls on your nightwear, “When did you start wearing clothes to bed?”

You smirk, “When I started sleeping in Gale’s house.”

Astarion lays down with a sly grin, “I don’t see Gale here, darling. Do you?”

“Are you?”

You’re tempted to pull the blankets back and check, but you don’t. It wouldn’t have bothered him before, and it might not now, but you’re not sure, so you err on the side of caution as you always do with him.

He giggles, “Give me your hand.”

Holding your hand out to him, he places it high on his chest, gliding it down over the toned planes of his stomach, and continues guiding it lower. Your heart springs to a rapid pace. You keep your eyes trained on his as he ghosts your hand down his body.

Your hand never runs into any clothing, but he pulls it back up too soon for your liking and kisses the back of your hand tenderly.

“Does that answer your question?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a second time will clear things up?”

He chuckles, “Can’t get enough?”

Pulling your nightwear off, you lay beside him and pull the blankets up, “Never.”

“Is this about the noble?”

“No.”

“Do you want to discuss what’s troubling you?”

“Not tonight.”

He nods, closing his eyes with a sigh, “Get some rest, my dear.”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. The temptation to reach out and find the normally empty spot filled overtakes you. With a resigned sigh, you still your covetous hand. But Astarion knows you well, almost too well sometimes, and he takes your hand and lays it on his chest, lacing his fingers with yours.

Your drumming mind finally starts to stagnate, and tranquillity you have not known for some time washes over you. In this moment, you’re happy, and you flow into the slipstream of your trance.

“My friend, I implore you to,” Gale searches for the word, “reconsider this course of action.”

“Yes,” Astarion interjects, “Listen to your good friend, Gale.”

You scowl and fold your arms across your body defiantly, “I’m not getting into another quarrel over this with you two.”

Astarion scoffs, and Gale shakes his head, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“This stipulation that you go alone does not sit well with me,” Gale ponders.

“You’re being too nice, Gale,” Astarion clicks his tongue, “Darling, you’re being pigheaded, and frankly, stupid.”

Gale’s eyes round, and he balks at Astarion’s bluntness. Gale would never speak to you in such a manner.

You huff, “Yes, Astarion, you’ve made your opinion clear, and frankly, I don’t care.”

Astarion groans and starts pacing with frustration, “Gods below.”

Gale’s intonation turns diplomatic, “I’m sure we can come up with another way that’s neither murder,” he scowls at Astarion, “Or putting yourself at unnecessary risk.”

“I’m going to apologize, and that’s final. It’s the quickest way to put this to rest.”

“At least go when I can follow,” Astarion’s voice is pleading, and it takes you by surprise.

Gale nods, “Yes, I can show him the way.”

“The note says before sunset, but I will go as close to sunset as I can manage, okay?”

Astarion’s relief is evident in his expression, “Thank you.”

You don’t relish the idea of apologizing to Aldous. The sheer thought of having to grovel to that prick makes you cringe and your gut churn, but you’ve had to do far worse things.

It couldn’t be as bad as pretending to be a True Soul to infiltrate Moonrise, right? That facade had made your skin crawl, but you took solace in the fact that you would bring about their demise. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case this time.

Getting ready in your room, you pull on a thick, high-collared robe to hide the still-healing bite marks on your neck. You run a brush through your hair and weave in your favourite circlet before slipping into your boots.

A light rasp on your door, “Come in, Astarion.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“You always knock lightly. Gale does not.”

He snickers, “It doesn’t surprise me that the wizard is heavy-handed. Perhaps that’s why the goddess grew tired of him. Some things require a more delicate touch.”

“Perhaps you could ask him.”

“Oh, believe me, I have tried to get all the little indecent details from him. He’s rather tight-lipped about it.”

You smirk, “I believe they call that courtesy.”

“I call it dull,” he retorts.

You laugh, and Astarion takes your hands. His expression becomes suddenly grave, “Is there nothing I can say to talk you out of this?”

“I can handle this.”

“Pigheaded,” he smiles, kissing your forehead.

You roll your eyes at him, “I think Gale nearly perished on the spot when you said that to me.”

“If he thinks that will make you flinch, he does not know you well.”

You shrug, “Not as well as you do, anyhow.”

Astarion takes off one of the sheathed daggers at his hip and crouches, pushing your robe back. He slips it carefully into your boot before letting the robe fall into place, concealing it.

“Do you remember how to throw it?”

“More or less.”

He rises and strokes your face gently with his fingers while looking deeply into your eyes with an intensity that makes you inhale an abrupt breath. He pulls you suddenly, and his lips crash into yours with an almost tangible desperation.

This isn’t fuelled by lust or desire. This kiss is charged with intimacy, affection… love. He’s kissing you like this could be the last time he has the chance.

He’s scared, nigh-on terrified, and his anxiety seeps into you and makes you wonder if you should reconsider, if only for his benefit.

This has to be done.

Astarion draws you into a tight hug, “Please be careful, my love.”

Gale’s voice drifts, “I hate to interrupt, but if you still mean to go through with this, the sun is starting to set.”

You jog down the streets, absorbed in your thoughts. Weaving between the citizens packing the alleys, you accidentally bump into some of them, eliciting shouts, grumbles and the odd shake of an angry fist. You pay no mind to them.

The front of Blackwell's Fine Books and Good Tomes comes into view, and you shudder. Before entering the store, you turn to look at the horizon. The sun sits split in half by the dark waters of the bay. It will be dark enough for Astarion to follow soon. You take a deep breath and let yourself into the store.

The store is silent and poorly lit, with only a few oil lamps burning. You peer through the shelving, watching for movement as you take cautious steps further into the store.

As you advance, you feel drained as your magic wanes and the draconic essence of your ancestors is snuffed out. You ground yourself and try to call on your inherent talents, but the grandeur of your fire spits and sputters out.

Your heart throttles in your chest as panic strikes. You pivot, meaning to run, but Aldous is blocking the door with a smile dripping malice, holding a blue flower you recognize.

“Sussur Bloom,” he drawls.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

I've taken some liberties with the way magic works. As well as some with some events in game. Hopefully, you guys don't mind!

I'm sorry we didn't get to deal with the damn noble, but we're getting there!

I hope you all enjoy!

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past

84 notes · View notes

fujii-draws · 4 months

Text

Regrets

Summary: As golden orbs of light brought an end to Dusknoir’s existence; he’s confronted with a thought. One he’d long been avoiding since the day he arrived in the world of the past, and came in contact with two young, small Pokémon. The same two he’d eventually come to grow fond of, only to betray as part of his mission. As he’s forced to finally confront it in his isolation, Dusknoir finds himself coming to an epiphany. One he’d been denying for a very, very long time.

[Word count: 2130]

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‘Aimilios... Ribbons...’ The ghost type melancholically lamented to himself. ‘They… did it….’

The black, paralyzed skies had begun to shift as the morning came. Rays of light hit the ghost type’s body; although numb, even he’d felt the warmth of the sun course through him. Time was finally moving again… and all Dusknoir could do was helplessly watch as his body faded; the light bringing an end to his existence.

Dusknoir cannot describe the emotions he’s feeling. Proud…? Accomplished…? Fearful….?

Damn it all. Arceus… if only he’d realized the mistake he was making. If only he’d defied Primal Dialga and had his change of heart sooner… perhaps those two would’ve still…. The three of them could’ve been-

No.

It’s over.

He ruined it.

…Dusknoir turns his head slowly, his gaze falling on to Grovyle; the reason he decided to go against Primal Dialga’s wishes in the first place. The reason he lived; for what would perhaps be the first time in ages… Had it not been for his speech back at the icicle pillars…Dusknoir doesn’t even want to think of the calamity that would’ve ensued. He continues to stare at the slowly disappearing grass-type, almost thoughtful.

“Grovyle…”

The grass-type’s eyes meet the black specter’s pained expression.

“My M-my life… Did it shine….?”

Dusknoir wanted to hear it from Grovyle. He wouldn’t feel satisfied, or even happy hearing it from himself. The ghost’s self-hatred was deep rooted enough as it was. Especially after all of what he had done. He needed a second opinion.

“…Yes.” The lizard Pokémon smiles, softly reassuring Dusknoir in what would be his final moments. “…Extraordinarily.”

…Dusknoir, despite not believing Grovyle, chooses to do so. Offering a small smile back at his old friend. “Grovyle… Thanks to you…..”

He pauses.

“…I have no regrets.”

…Dusknoir starts to feel himself slipping away completely; his physical form fading into illuminated lights in the sky as he draws his final breath… His death is almost comforting... At least- it would’ve been, had he made peace with his unspoken feelings… towards them. Even when he’s disappearing. Even when he’s dying…

He still couldn’t tell the truth.

One regret.

He had all but one.

…And now, he’ll never see them again. Never be able to tell them how sorry he was. Never be able to tell those two how much they meant to him… what they actually meant to him.

How foolish was he…? To get attached like this…? To care so much about their futures as well as his…? ..He couldn’t even admit how much they mattered to him in his final moments… Dusknoir grunts. really is just a liar, isn’t he? And that’s all the two will remember him for. Their scornful expressions when he’d laughed at their misery during their confrontation in the future. Their looks of betrayal. Tears rolled down the eevee and riolu’s faces as they unhinged their claws and teeth at Dusknoir. To think at the time, he found their reactions simply hysterical…

——————

“YOU LIAR..!”

“W-WE TRUSTED YOU..!”

“Pray tell… who’s fault is that?” Dusknoir sneered. “Not once had I asked for your background, or your names.”

Dusknoir began to float menacingly towards Aimilios. “Last I recall, you were responsible for your own partner’s downfall.”

“I-I….”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE…!!”

——————

…Now all he feels is a sharp pain stabbing through his chest recalling that horrible memory.

If there was a heaven or hell; the latter would be awaiting him right about now.

Speaking of…

Dusknoir opens his eye, attempting to browse his uncanny surroundings. What meets the ghost-type is… emptiness?

“…What on earth..?” His eye wanders down to his body.

…He appears in what looks like a pitch-black void. Dusknoir himself would’ve blended right in with the endless abyss had it not been for the yellow outlines distinguishing the features of his silhouette-like shadow… the same exact hue of yellow lights that’d been responsible for his disappearance moments ago… it’s almost as if he’d become a ghost all over again... He’d find the circumstances slightly amusing had it not been for his current dilemma. Dusknoir stares at his golden-laced hand, before contemplating something.

‘…Perhaps..’ Dusknoir thinks to himself. ‘Perhaps… it’s better this way…’ He knows it’s selfish. He knows he’s being a coward. But… now he doesn’t have to face Ribbons and Aimilios. He doesn’t have to look at those same faces that once revered him with such adoration; now fear, in the eyes… And yet… The thought of never seeing those two again… why does the thought bring him so much unnecessary pain? They were only means to an end to begin with- so why does he even CARE?!

“…GWOOH.. GWOOOOH..!!!” The ghost-type’s head begins to throb uncontrollably; Dusknoir clutches his head; nearly identical to how he did when breaking down in the midst of Grovyle’s speech. He clutches his temple harder in a feeble attempt to satiate the pain. Why couldn’t he just stop…? He’d tried so hard to detach himself from Ribbons and Aimilios once he realized who they were... Yet like a complete and utter fool; he stayed close. So close to an eevee and riolu he was ordered to execute. Why couldn’t he just forget about those two…? It would hurt so much less. They were means to an end to begin with- so WHY?!

“B-BLAST IT..!”

He slams both of his fists on the onyx colored ground beneath him in frustration. The yellow outlines of his body begin to glow violently as he draws heavy, shallow breaths.

…Dusknoir is suddenly plagued with a memory- of those two. He… remembers the eevee and riolu smiling widely; at him no less. It was… around the time when he’d referred to them as his ‘friends’. A mere front to gain their trust. Dusknoir recounts just how overjoyed they looked… and how that happiness made something in his chest hurt for a split second. He didn’t have to give them false hope. He didn’t have to play this ruse as far as he did… and yet. There was a small, foolish part of him that genuinely enjoyed it; and an even smaller part of him that knew he’d regret it.

————————

“You mean it?!” The riolu beamed. “You’ll really help us?!”

“But of course!” Dusknoir smiled, placing a hand on his chest. “I offer you two, my full cooperation!”

Dusknoir watched as the two Pokémon whip their heads towards eachother; almost trying to confirm the other’s disbelief. They look back at him; tails wagging rapidly in unison— before Ribbons excitedly jumps onto the ghost-type. Dusknoir nearly stumbles from just how sudden it was. Despite this, he catches her with his quick reflexes.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!!” Ribbons cheered. “You have no idea how much this means to us!”

Dusknoir recollected himself; before putting a hand on each of the overjoyous Pokémon’s heads.

“I’m… glad to hear. Truly.” A lie, obviously…but even he couldn’t help but smile a little at their shared enthusiasm.

“By golly..! Huff… huff…”

All three of the Pokémon had turned their heads to the out-of-breath Bidoof. Dusknoir immediately put Ribbons and Aimilios down; a slightly embarrassed blush crossing the ghost’s face as he brushed himself off coughing, returning to his more professional, stoic-like persona.

———————————

…He didn’t have to play with their emotions. He could’ve just as easily stayed acquaintances- kept his distance- but no. He just had to enjoy spending time with them. He had to get closer to them. He had to remember their favorite foods. To enjoy laughing with them until his stomach became sore, protecting them, watching over them, loving them as if they were…

Were…

…Dusknoir can’t help but hold his hand under his eye. He… he really did care those two... As if they were his own… his own…

“….Hoh…”

His train of thought comes to a complete halt. The idea of those two? Seeing him that way? After what he had done? After the horrible things he’s said…?

“Ho..Hohohaha..! HOHOHOHA-HA-HA-HA!”

His laughter becomes more and more erratic; holding one hand under his eye as the other grips his head- his cackles echoing into the never ending void.

“HAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaa…!“

Dusknoir’s broken laughter echoes throughout the void; until there’s nothing left but silence. Both of Dusknoir’s hands now cover his face as he crumbles to the ground. A shell of what was once the ‘Great Dusknoir’… was nothing more but the husk of a broken ghost. Too selfish and weak to do the right thing; and stand by the only two Pokémon who were willing to trust him with their lives… He wishes the endless abyss he was in would just swallow him already.

“Aimilios…Ribbons…” Dusknoir’s voice cracks; calling out for the ones he’d hurt.

…They deserved so much better than him. He didn’t deserve them. And to think in the beginning, they’d been the ones who were trying to prove themselves to be worthy of him... When it’d been the other way around this entire time. How ironic.

How absolutely ironic.

…Which reminds him-

“Ribbons…!” His head shoots up in a panic; his eye filled with worry.

She had already disappeared at this point, didn’t she..? In front of Aimilios no less..? He can’t even begin to fathom how horrible it must’ve been for both of them… at such young ages… maybe if he’d assisted them on their perilous journey to Temporal Tower…. he could’ve been there to remedy the weight of their situation… but of course instead, he used it in a pathetic attempt to beg for his life. Dumping everything onto Ribbons in a last ditch effort to save his own ghostly skin… in the small desperate hope she’d finally understand why he…

…Selfish.

So selfish.

Of course his train of thought immediately went straight back to him. He can’t think about anyone’s wellbeing except for his own. His ‘self preservation’. His ‘life’. Nevermind all of the Pokémon he was going to deny the futures of. He was at risk. So they all had to pay for it. Because of his cowardice.

This was his atonement.

He deserved this.

Dusknoir closes his eye. Maybe in his next life he’ll be a decent Pokémon. One worthy of respect. Of adoration.

Of love.

“Gah...”

Dusknoir groans. Why does it feel so cold all of a sudden..?

Wait.. cold?

He sees… ice… and feels… wind?

‘…What..?’

He slowly gets up; using his hands to suspend himself in the air. He looks around- only to see himself back.

Back on the mountain.

He stares at his hands for an indeterminate amount of time before they begin to tremble. His expression contorted into one of self-loathing and confusion.

“W-we’re still here…” His fingers curl into fists.

“I didn’t disappear…! Wh-Why?!”

Dusknoir shouts; almost disgusted by the fact he was revived- rather than questioning how it was even possible in the first place. No. He doesn’t- He shouldn’t be here. It must’ve been some kind of mistake… That’s it. There’s no other logical explanation for why he should be still here. Perhaps the higher being that brought him back into this world will immediately realize their error, and make swift work of him.

“We… we truly are still here…” Grovyle lamented, breathing a sigh of what would be an overwhelming rush relief. Celebi begins to flutter her wings happily around the grass-type.

“Wonderful!! I don’t know why we were fading and didn’t disappear…” She twirls, overjoyous now having gained all her strength back. “…But everyone is safe!! Oh my beloved..! Isn’t this just an amazing wonderful thing?!”

Grovyle chuckles heartedly. “It is.”

Unfortunately among the three; the ghost type was not experiencing the same joy as the grass type pokemon. Dusknoir had been drowning out half of their words of cheer and relief with thoughts of contempt. Self-depricational thoughts clouded the ghost-type’s mind as he kept searching for logical answers for his revival… Everyone else made sense. But why him of all Pokémon..?!

“Why..? Wh-Why me..?” Dusknoir whispered to himself dejectedly; mirroring his words from when his Sableye ‘betrayed’ him.

The only difference being how genuine it was.

Pr- Dialga had appeared to explain the whole situation to the trio. Once that had been done, Grovyle, and Celebi walked and flew individually near the edge of the mountain to feel the sun on their skins; their accomplishments finally having been paid off, soaking in the sun…

……Dusknoir, however; had stayed in the exact spot he’d been revived. His thoughts plagued him. This was not his victory. This was not for him to enjoy. What was he to do now..? Live his life as if nothing happened..? As if he didn’t hurt countless Pokémon..? Guilt had almost immediately begun to eat away at the ghost-type. He looks down at his hands one last time... Perhaps death would’ve been too good for a despicable Pokémon such as himself. The torment of being alive, and living with what he had done seemed like a fitting and ironic enough punishment… but that wasn’t what truly scared him.

Far from it, in fact.

Without a doubt in Dusknoir’s mind; Grovyle and Celebi would want to return back to the past… perhaps not this very instant; but at a given point. And when that time finally arrives…

Dusknoir stares at the Passage of Time facing him. Almost mocking him.

…He’d have to face them.

“…” Dusknoir clenches his fists tightly; his brow furrowing.

…The mere thought of confronting those two again- No no no no no. He- he should have disappeared. Death would’ve been a mercy. He can’t face them- not again. Looking at the same two children he tried to slaughter with his bare hands mere hours ago face-to-face..? Dusknoir’s fists tremble as his terror consumes him. What would they say..? Let alone think..? They’d run at the mere sight of him. He…

He doesn’t want to scare them.

He doesn’t want to hurt them.

He..

…Now he has something else to be afraid of.

#pmd eos #pmd writing tag #Another Dusknoir-centric fic I worked on!!! :D I hope you like it!!#this took me like a week on and off #also second time writing!! YIPPEE!!!#I’m still not as good but I’m still having lots of fun and learning !!#anyways. I need to see that old man on the floor writhing in agony.#/j BUT YKNOW #dadnoir

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melliejellybellybean · 1 year

Text

A Match Made in a Classroom

Hunter/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k, whoops...

Warnings: none

It's parent teacher conference night for Omega!

Hunter hates it. While he usually dodges the responsibility, letting one of his brothers take his place, there is no one to save him this time.

You love parent teacher conferences. You love getting to meet the families who influence the children you spend your days with, and this time you just might meet someone special.

Omega has a plan. Her, her siblings, and Cid have devised a foolproof mission that she cannot wait to set in motion.

Hunter could endure all sorts of tortures. He had to, as a soldier, and with his heightened senses, a lot of mundane things could be considered torture. Yet, here he was, facing what was likely to be the death of him. There was no rescue waiting for him, no escape from the pain he’d experience in just a few short minutes. As he was led into the bleak building, he glanced at the sun for what would probably be the last time.

“Hunter, you have to stop being so dramatic.” Omega glared after Hunter sighed for the seventh time in the past two minutes. “My teacher is very nice. You’re not going to die in there.”

“Why couldn’t Tech do this?” Hunter grumbled, “Tech always comes to these things.”

“You already know the answer to that.” Omega reminded him.

He grimaced as he remembered Tech’s adamant claims that he could not separate from the Marauder for as much as two minutes for risk of “the ship exploding, leaving us stranded with no means of making an income, Hunter. With no income, we would have no way of replenishing our food supply or other needs. Is that what you want? Do you want to starve?”

Hunter had wanted to share a few choice words with Tech then, and even more now, but he settled for grumbling once more. “Stupid explosive power couplings.”

“It’ll be fun!” Omega tried for optimism, “You can finally see the super secret project I’ve been working on for the past two weeks!”

Hunter let up on his sulking a bit when he saw her bright smile. Ever since taking on Omega, he had felt wildly out of his depth. Good soldiers did not equate to good fathers, or father figures in his case. Even after a couple of years, Hunter continued to bumble through new situations and problems, making countless mistakes along the way. He had just started to feel like he had some sort of handle on raising her when Cid started this long chain of events that would lead to his current suffering.

…

“You’ve gotta enroll that kid in a school.” She shrugged one afternoon as she passed by Hunter.

“What?” Hunter suddenly twisted on the stool he’d been sitting on, nearly falling off.

Cid didn’t stop walking. “She’s gonna need to do basic math or something soon. The longer you wait, the more suspicious it gets.”

At the time, Hunter had shrugged it off. Cid was just being Cid: sticking her nose in places where it didn’t belong. However, it seemed she shared her unwanted opinion with more people than he had thought. A few days later, Echo casually slid into the seat across from Hunter in the booth where he’d been sitting.

“You know, I’ve been thinking and asking around. Apparently, there’s a pretty good school not too far from here. Walking distance.” Hunter raised one eyebrow, but Echo continued before he could interrupt. “Think about it. Every other kid Omega’s age is going to school right now. I don’t think it’s ‘low-profile’ for a kid to hang out in Cid’s parlor with a bunch of suspicious-looking men everyday. Not to mention, she’ll learn a lot.”

“She’s already learning a lot.” Hunter argued, “We’re teaching her. Some kids are homeschooled, that’s not completely rare.”

Echo wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think ship classes and modifications are standard curriculum.”

“Well, you can argue with Tech about that.” Hunter smirked, “Good luck getting him to admit that.”

“I actually agree with Echo.” Tech voice sounded from above. Hunter looked up to see his goggled brother peering over the side of the booth where he had evidently been eavesdropping. “Sending Omega to a primary school could be beneficial for both her and us.”

Tech took the stunned silence of his brothers as a chance to scramble out of his booth and shove himself next to Hunter. “Not only could a proper education lead to better opportunities for Omega in her future, but she could also gain social awareness from exposure to other adolescents.”

“Wish you’d gotten more of that.” Hunter muttered.

Tech adjusted his goggles, “The Kaminoans kept all of us separate from the regs in our early stages. It is hardly my fault my exceptional mind progressed at a rate faster than yours. I may have skipped past some social development, but we can all agree I’m better off for it.”

“Our point is,” Echo spoke up, “it could be better for Omega to be around other kids her age and learn from someone who is actually qualified to teach. We’re soldiers. We don’t know the first thing about teaching anything other than military strategy and maybe some basic math.”

Hunter sighed, “I get that, I do, but we can’t protect her there. What if she gets into some kind of trouble and we’re not there to help her?”

“What kind of trouble will she get into at school?” Echo argued, “Those kids are supervised, school isn’t a dangerous place.”

“Actually, there are significant statistics that indicate that violence in schools is more common than we would all like to think. It’s more likely to occur in larger cities on more populated planets, but Ord Mantell does not have a reputation as the safest location. In fact, a large movement has started in Coruscant protesting the lack of restrictions on–” Tech grunted when Echo kicked him under the table.

“Look,” Hunter relented, “I would love for Omega to have more friends her age, but it’s just not possible.”

“That’s not fair!” Wrecker’s booming voice made everyone jump. Somehow, the mountain of a man had snuck up on the group. “Omega deserves to have more friends. And she’s super smart! She’d love school! Aren’t we supposed to be giving her a normal life? You’re raising her like a Kaminoan!”

…

Somehow, Wrecker knew just what to say to make Hunter hurt. As much as he wanted to unkindly tell their brothers where they could stick their advice on his parenting style, his self-doubt combined with his resentment towards his own unfair upbringing caused his stubborn nature to crumble. Now, he stood next to Omega at her parent-teacher conference, trying to combat her contagious smile.

“Alright,” Hunter looked away to hide the grin that wanted to break on his face, “which one’s your classroom?”

Omega knew she had won. She grabbed her brother’s hand and all but ran to a classroom all the way at the end of the hall. The bulletin board outside the door was decorated to look like the inside of a generic classroom. A cartoonish cookie stood by the chalkboard and more, smaller cookies that had clearly been made by the students were scattered in the center. The top of the board read, “Come see how smart your cookies are!” Hunter smiled as he saw the googly-eyed cookie that had Omega’s name on it. It was a bit messy, but he thought it was the most perfect looking cookie in the galaxy.

Before Omega could knock on the door, it opened and a little Zabrak boy came out followed by his parents. “Alright Mr. and Mrs. Vint, thank you so much for coming. Your son has been such a pleasure to have in class. I’ll see you on Monday, Pev, have a nice weekend!”

Whatever response the family had, Hunter didn’t hear it. He was busy looking at what must’ve been the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Omega’s teacher stood in perfect poise, a small, patient smile on her lips. Her eyes were bright and full of energy and kindness. Hunter swore that the longer he looked into them he had more and more hope for the galaxy. Maybe if eyes that looked like that existed, there was good after all.

“Mr. Fett?” A voice broke Hunter’s trance. Blinking, he noticed that the smile on her face had slipped slightly in concern. How long had she been talking?

“I’m so sorry,” Hunter stammered, “what were you saying?”

Omega snorted, but her teacher just giggled. It was adorable, and it took all of Hunter’s discipline to pay attention to the words that came out of her gorgeous mouth, “I said it’s nice to finally meet you. Omega talks about her brothers all the time, but I think I hear of you most often.”

Slightly touched, Hunter glanced down at Omega. She met his soft gaze with a shrug and a weirdly mischievous grin. She was up to something. Immediately, the soft fuzzy feeling was replaced by suspicion, but before he could do more than narrow his eyes at his sister, the goddess of a woman spoke up again.

“Should we go in? I’m sure you’d love to see Omega’s progress.”

…

In your, admittedly not very long, teaching career, you have never experienced a parent-teacher conference quite like the first one that you had with Mr. Fett and Omega. He paid an almost scary amount of attention to every word you spoke and every move you made while Omega bounced her gaze between the two of you like she was watching a very intense dejarik match. However, you were a professional, so you took it in stride. Omega was an amazing student, always respectful and responsible so you didn’t have to worry about having any awkward conversations with parents who were convinced their “perfect angel” couldn’t possibly have hit that little girl with a textbook. He did, by the way, not that they believed you.

The only time you were able to break the weird tension away from whatever was going on with the Fett family was when you brought up Omega’s project. She had been practically vibrating in her chair as you started talking about it, and when you asked her to grab it from her desk, she shot out of her seat like a blaster charge. Before you or Mr. Fett could caution her from literally sprinting in the classroom, she tripped over the leg of a chair, falling hard to the ground.

“Omega!” Mr. Fett was out of his chair just as fast as her. You rushed just behind him, kneeling by Omega who was clutching at her knee.

“I’m sorry!” Omega sniffled, tears in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have run.”

Mr. Fett blinked, slightly shocked, but you cut in before he could say anything.

“It’s not your fault, Omega.” You soothed the girl, “It’s Mr. Chair’s fault. Between you and me, Mr. Chair is a bitter old man, he trips me almost once a week!”

Omega giggled through the tears that built in her eyes, “Really?”

“Really.” You nodded sagely before fixing your attention to her knee, “Let’s take a look at that.”

You coaxed her into showing you her badly scraped and bleeding knee. “Stars, Mr. Chair, look what you did to Omega!” You glared at the chair, then gasped dramatically, “How dare you say that! Apologize right now!” Smiling sheepishly at Omega, as if you were embarrassed for the chair, you whispered, “He said sorry.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Chair, I’m sure it was an accident.” Omega was a smart kid, so it meant the world to you that she played along with your ridiculous fantasy.

Mr. Fett finally spoke up, “That looks pretty nasty, kid, maybe we should go get it checked out.” When his eyes moved from Omega to you, your mouth suddenly went dry and your brain decided to cease functioning. His eyes were full of intense passion and care, for Omega you assumed, and despite his hard demeanor, you could see his gaze soften. It took an embarrassing amount of time to realize he was hinting at their departure from the conference, and by extension, you.

“Oh, right.” You stammered, trying desperately to regain your professionalism after ogling at Omega’s brother, “I think the nurse has left by now, but maybe I could call her and see if she’s not too far? Wait no, that’s not fair for her, I could probably track down a janitor to open the office. I think Ward is still here, he owes me a favor. If not, I’m pretty handy with a hairpin, the lock can’t be that hard to pick, right? I should not have said that!”

Mr. Fett chuckled and even more of your brain activity packed up its bags to leave the scene. “That’s alright, you couldn’t possibly be the worst influence on her life.”

You laughed. Way too loud. “I need to keep bandages in here.” You blurted again, unable to stop this trainwreck of an interaction.

“For when Mr. Chair is mean again.” He joked. The weird tension was back. Mr. Fett kept your gaze under lock and key and Omega, while still clearly in pain, looked like a kid on Life Day.

This time, he broke it, glancing down at Omega awkwardly. “We should probably get you to Tech so he can bandage that.”

“Yes!” You rushed to the door, opening it for them. “Not that I want you to leave, but that’s probably for the best. Because of Omega’s knee, not because I don’t like you or anything. Not that I don’t like you! Omega’s great and I’m sure you are too–”

“We understand.” Mr. Fett saved you from yourself with a smirk, before leaving out the door. Omega sent you one last big grin as she passed you.

You sighed against the doorway, watching the two figures walk down the hallway until they turned the corner and left your field of vision. Breaking out of your trance, you noticed Mrs. Tenfrir raising a judging eyebrow at you. Your face burned as you quickly retreated into the safety of your classroom. The whole PTA was going to hear about this now.

Three weeks after the eventful parent-teacher conference night, you stood at the school gates greeting the children coming to school for the day. Frowning, you looked at your watch. It’s not like Omega to be late. Everyday, or at least everyday for the past three weeks, Omega arrives at school exactly 15 minutes before the day starts. Everyday, or at least everyday for the past three weeks, she gives you a slightly mischievous smile as she runs past you into the building. Everyday, or at least everyday for the past three weeks, you look up to see the oldest Mr. Fett already staring at you before catching himself and walking back in the direction he came from. He thought he hid his blush, but you could always see it. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, to see that Omega’s oldest brother had started bringing her to school. In the past, it had always been either Tech or Echo, both of which would always greet you warmly. However, their brother seemed to be content to admire you from a distance.

You weren’t stupid. As a younger teacher, there were plenty of single parents who flirted with you or, on some occasions, even boldly asked you out, but you always maintained a professional relationship with them. Yet, something was different about Mr. Fett. Maybe it was his dark and broody persona or the softness that he tried and failed to keep from showing through said persona, but you felt yourself looking forward to catching a glimpse of him every morning, exactly 15 minutes before the day started.

…

“Omega, we need to get going, you’re going to be late.” Hunter reminded his younger sister for the fifth time this morning.

Omega didn’t even pull her head out of the bush she was buried in, “I know, but I promise, this is the last one. Aha!”

Triumphantly, she held up a flower she had just wrestled from the ground, adding it to the growing bouquet in her other hand. Although it significantly slowed them down, Hunter found her determination to choose only “the most perfectly perfect-looking flowers for this mission” endearing.

“The only mission you should be focusing on is getting to school on time.” Hunter scolded, “If you’re late, you’re explaining yourself to your teacher.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to explain to her?” Omega teased, “Instead of just staring at her like normal?”

Hunter almost tripped over a rock. “I do not stare.”

“Do too.” Omega chided.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“I’m watching to make sure you get in alright.” Hunter tried to maintain his dignity, but it was hard when he was arguing with a 13-year-old. Looking ahead, he was relieved to see that they were approaching the school gates.

Omega looked like she was going to continue arguing, but she cut herself off when she noticed you standing at the gates looking almost worried. Omega ran off, and upon seeing her, you smiled wide and called out. You were really pretty when you smiled. You were always pretty, in Hunter’s opinion, but whenever you smiled or laughed or joked with Omega, Hunter felt his heart skip several beats. He watched as Omega held out the flowers to you, presenting them in such a grand way, but then she whispered something in your ear and your eyebrows shot up. You looked at Hunter, a small blush spreading across your face as you took them, and Hunter felt his stomach drop. Sending Omega one last smile, you ushered her inside before approaching Hunter.

“Good morning, Mr. Fett,” you greeted him politely, “Thank you for the flowers.”

Hunter opened his eloquent mouth, “What?”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow, “Omega tells me that you picked these flowers for me?”

“Um, yes,” Hunter stammered, Omega’s antics finally making sense, “They just looked so beautiful, and so do you today, I mean, you look good most days–all days! You look nice all days, but today I just happened to be walking past all these flowers and I decided to get them… for you?”

“Well, thank you, again.” You started to turn away.

Don’t let her go! Hunter’s mind screamed at him. A voice blurted, “Would you want to get dinner sometime?” It took Hunter a second to realize that the voice was his own.

You froze, “Dinner?”

Hunter’s heart was pounding, “Yes.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“And no one else?”

“Yes.”

“Like a date?”

Hunter paused. He was too far deep now. If you hated him after this, he could always let his brothers handle all of Omega’s school events again. They’d probably be better at it anyways. “Yes?”

Silence fell between you both. Hunter’s eyes never left yours, but yours shifted around. He watched you ponder every angle of the decision you were about to make and, what felt like an eternity later, you locked your eyes back on his. “Yes.”

Hunter was sure he was dreaming. “Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded, completely certain in your choice, “Does tomorrow night work? You could pick me up here around 6?”

“Yes.”

“Can you say anything other than ‘yes’?”

“Yes.” Hunter answered before he could think about it.

You laughed, “Well, I’ll see you then, Mr. Fett.”

“Please, call me Hunter.” He had meant to make it sound like a request, but it came out in a desperate beg.

“I have to go do my job, Hunter.” You teasingly chided and began to back away again, maintaining eye contact as long as you could. His name rolled off of your tongue like it was always meant to. Hunter never saw any particular beauty in his name, but the way it sounded coming from you made it seem like the most poetic word to be created.

For the next day and a half, Hunter was a mess. He tripped and fell down the ramp of the Marauder, he accidentally put salt in his coffee instead of sugar, he even mistook Gonky for a trash bin at some point. However, he wasn’t the only one acting odd. He caught Echo smirking to himself on more than one occasion. Tech kept bouncing between whispering to Omega and whispering to Cid, and Wrecker was being entirely too quiet.But none of that was on Hunter’s mind when he found himself sitting across from you at a restaurant. It was smaller, nice and quiet. He had heard Cid talking to AZI about it the other night, and it just turned out to be the perfect setting for this date.

“You clean up very nicely.” You broke the semi-awkward silence that had fallen since the two of you had been seated.

Hunter thought about how he had spent the better half of the day in the refresher preparing himself mentally and physically to meet you. He decided not to mention that. “You do too. I didn’t think you could have looked even more stunning, but I was wrong.” He practiced that line for almost 15 minutes.

You looked down at the table to hide your blush. Hunter could still see it, but he thought the gesture was cute. “Oh!” You snapped your head, eyes bright, “I almost forgot. I brought Omega’s project.”

“The one from the conference?” Hunter watched you root around in your bag until you pulled out a rolled up sheet of flimsy that looked like multiple smaller sheets hastily glued together.

“Yeah,” You started to unroll it, “The assignment was to make a family tree. Most kids just put mom, dad, brother, sister, maybe a tooka if they had one, but Omega was very determined to put every single one of her brothers.”

The paper was a mess. The family tree was less tree than it was a very, very long line, but it was filled, in Omega’s messy handwriting, of clone names. He saw Rex, Gregor, Cut and his family, and even some clones that she had only ever heard of like Fives, Wolffe, Waxer and Boil. There were even clones that Hunter had never met. And right in the middle, written the biggest, were five names: Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair. Hunter felt a lump begin to form in his throat. Omega had never known the Crosshair that the rest of them did. She only ever knew the man who ruthlessly chased them across the galaxy, trying to kill them, but she still thought of him as a brother. Enough to write his name on a family tree for a school assignment that would one day get lost, thrown away, or left behind. It was something so simple and insignificant, and it was going to make Hunter cry.

“She gave up her recess for three days straight to finish this project.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper. “I wanted to make sure you saw it since you couldn’t at the conference.”

Memories of the conference flooded Hunter’s mind. Admittedly, he hadn’t listened to what you were saying all that much, having been too focused on making sure he wasn’t actively drooling over you, but he recalled the way you soothed Omega.

“You’re really good with her.” Hunter cleared his throat to himself, “Sometimes I feel so out of my depth. Like I’m making a million and one mistakes and I can’t stop myself, but you do everything right with her.”

You blushed, just now realizing how closely he had actually watched you interact with his sister. “She’s an amazing kid, kind and selfless. I don’t think you realize how good of a job you’re actually doing with her. She couldn’t have a better brother.”

“Don’t let my other brothers hear that.” Hunter joked, trying to deflect the praise, “I would never have been able to calm her down like you did at the conference.”

“My mom used to do that.” You looked down at your lap, “Like Omega, I tended to think that I was responsible for things that were out of my control, and that’s how she helped me get past that. I always thought it was the funniest thing ever. Sometimes, I would purposefully hurt myself on things just to hear her scold them. She definitely knew when I did it on purpose, but I think it makes it all the more special that she would indulge me.”

You were pulled out of your memories by the sensation of something brushing your hand. Looking up, you saw that his hand had traveled across the table, his pinky brushing yours silently asking for permission. You turned your hand up, interlocking his fingers with yours.

Hunter opened his mouth, almost having to force the words out, “Can I kiss you?”

Your throat closed up, so all you could do was give a shy nod. The Kaminoans used to say that it took a team to raise an army. Hunter always felt that saying was a load of bantha droppings. What did they know about raising people with real thoughts and feelings? Now he realized they were sort of right. It took a team to raise a person, but most importantly, it took the right team. Not a team of the smartest doctors, most celebrated engineers, and ruthless bounty hunters, but a team of people who truly loved each other and worked together for each other’s benefit. As he started to lean into you and you to him, Hunter realized that maybe he wasn’t the wrong person to be raising Omega. Maybe he just wasn’t the only right person. Maybe he needed his brothers, and just maybe, he needed you. Hunter’s lips met yours and nothing had ever felt more right for him. And nothing would ever feel right again without you by his side. …

Omega came sprinting into Cid’s parlor. It was late, the only occupants of the room being Cid, her brothers, and AZI. They all looked at her in anticipation, waiting for her to relay information gathered from her stealth operation.

Beaming, she revealed the Mantell Mix she had been hiding behind her back. “Mission accomplished.”

A stunned silence fell for a beat, everyone processing that their work had paid off. Then the room erupted into cheers.

This fic is a gift for @miseries-mistress as a part of @cloneficgiftexchange‘s... clone fic gift exchange... (that sentence went a lot better in my head). Your dialogue prompt just screamed Hunter to me. I headcanon that he'd fall in love with someone after seeing them interact with Omega or Omega would love them before he did. I'm super excited to be able to post this for you to read, and I really hope you like it!

It was a lot of fun to participate in this fic exchange and write this. I have been looking for an excuse to start writing for the longest time and this exchange was the perfect opportunity! I am in love with the idea of Omega in a primary or elementary school, I think she'd be the best student to have. I also love the idea of Omega matchmaking all of her brothers. So, with those two ideas in mind, this fic was born! What was meant to be 800 words of Hunter being absolutely smitten with his daughter figure's teacher turned into 4k+ words of character analysis on him and Omega. Whoops. I hope yall enjoyed it!

#CFGE23 #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x f!reader #tbb hunter x fem!reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch #omegas a matchmaker #LET OMEGA GO TO SCHOOL AND MAKE FRIENDS JENNIFER

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justanotherperson1 · 7 months

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Imagine the kids scrambling to handle this mess. Jack handles Prime, Raf goes for Ratchet and Miko deals with Bay. Someone needs to remind the bots that not everyone is against them.

Miko thinks the only way to get Bay's mind out of this unhealthy slump is to remind about the good side. Throughout all his adventures, he had key help from humans who still believed in him despite everything. Bay died to protect Sam who later almost dies bringing the Matrix of Leadership to bring him back.

Cade still repaired the Autobot Leader despite knowing his identity and kept faith in him. It's okay to not fully trust others but he can't group an entire race in the same category when there were humans who helped the Autobots until the end. Plus Cybertronians are in the safe boat. Both species have their good/bad sides.

Raf and Jack remind everyone that if Fowler really wasn't on their side than everyone would already be in hiding already. He may be rough at times but the agent is like Lennox. Still loyal to his companions.

A liaison doing the best he can to keep the peace despite the Autobots absolutely sucking at staying incognito. You want to prepare or be cautious? Okay but don't throw someone whose clearly still has faith and trust into the possible enemy bin.

There's also issues with the Matrix of Leadership. Both Optimus have gone through a personality change and Ratchet doesn't trust the relic one bit. Orion Pax incident already showed what Prime was like before becoming the person he is today.

It will mark any potential threat to Cybertron as a danger despite the circumstances. A onesided piece of scrap metal that cannot be trusted. Everyone has to work together or sink by the inner turmoil than just Decepticons.

I feel like Bay! Optimus would find the most wisdom from Arcee in this moment. Though Miko’s words would be kind, Arcee’s experience would be a inadvertant comfort.

After the reveal of what the humans did to his Ratchet he would retreat to the roof where Arcee would find him.

She wouldn’t scold him or try to lure him back with the others but istead, under the low light of a setting sun, they would sit and look over the world just beyond Cliffjuper’s memoral in a certain solidaridy.

They are the most alike and therefore, Arcee would be the most likley to understand him. Unlike Prime! Optimus who is the ‘figurehead’ and the ‘ideal’, I feel she would be more likley and more willing to hear Bay!. Does that exuse his actions? His brashness? What could Arcee say? She’s been where he was and is still activly trying to tame the rage she sure as the pit feels.

That’s not to say none of the others in the team don’t experience loss, but Arcee and Bay! Prime seem to deal with loss and the feeling of failure the same way.

She wouldn’t try to defend humaninty as a whole, but tell stories of Jack and how he helped her after the death of Cliffjumper, and maybe…. Just maybe, Bay! Would recall the young boy he once knew that the first human he ever talked to. Who was there when few others would stand with him.

But your last line couple of lines raises an iteresting thought.

Bay!’s matrix has been stained long before him and found a kindered spirit in a Crucader become Prime. In the very first movie he said that Cybertron was an Empire, and later we learn that he and other knights like him traveled the stars in a PRISON ship Lockdown later comindeared from him. Do you guys remember what it looked like? What was in it?

“Bone grinders, brain blinders, flesh peelers, chromazonal inverters, catatonic slug, black hole trap doors and, of course, radiation.” - Crosshairs, Age of Extinction.

What the hell is he doing with a ship like that?!

Even then, everything the Bay! Allspark touches turns into a rage-filled, blood thirsty vile creature who’s only initiative is to destroy everything around it. We see this again and again in the years we Optimus is on Earth. The more and more electronics accidently get turned into Cybertronian creatures- so then what rules does the Matrix follow when heralding and protecting such a naturally violent race? What morals would it really have.

What was he doing? Before and after the matrix?

And what was the Matrix truly instilling in him?

Do you think, in Prime! Optimus seeing himself he saw something not like him? a being who was already a conqueror before the fall of their race? Something who, in theory shared his ideas, but in action truly was brutish? A Cybertronian more like Unicron than that of Primus?

Did Bay! Optimus really change after the Matrix?

#transformers #tfp transformers prime #tfp #bayverse optimus #bayverse #crossover #optimus prime #yeah I dont know about this bay guy #the more I think about it #the more sinister he gets #but why does that make him so much more inticing???????#And interesting?????#I need help

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sleeplessdreamer14 · 7 months

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the sparrow and the butterfly

fandom: overwatch

relationship: (familial) genji shimada & sibling! reader

headcanons: years after your family falls apart, you’re given a chance to put it back together

contains: familial fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, heavy plot

a/n: this is more of a fanfic I came up with like a month ago that I’m telling in the ‘you’ perspective. I might make a part 2 for hanzo if this gets enough notes.

˚˖𖤓˖˚ childhood

as the two younger siblings of the family, you and Genji were quite close

although he wasn’t initially thrilled at the idea of being a middle child, he quickly became enamored with you

you’re kind of his favorite

and you were a pretty good motivator for him to be a bit more respectful, to set a good standard for you

you had caught him sneaking out a few times, and promised not to tell on the condition he bought you lunch the next day

Genji’s not gonna let anyone slander your name btw

some of your dearest memories were made up on the roof of Shimada castle where you guys would watch fireworks together

Genji hoped that despite being born into the yakuza, you could live your life yourself when you grew up

ִ ࣪ ☾⋆ separation

anyway, as you got older, the two of you confided in each other that neither of you wanted any part in the family’s criminal empire

this became a major problem upon the untimely death of your father and responsibilities fell to you and your brothers

you still remember how sick you felt when you could overhear your brothers fighting until everything suddenly went quiet

once torn between your longing for a different life and your duty to your family, you fled that same night and left no trace

as much as you wanted to, you knew that looking back even once would making leaving even harder than it already was

so you’ve lost your family, your home, everything

words cannot describe how scary and lonely those first couple of years were for you

but after you spent enough time mourning, you got back on your feet, took time to make peace with your loss, and built a new life for yourself

after spending a couple years on your own, you embraced your newfound freedom to make your own choices and be entirely and unapologetically yourself

this involved getting a tattoo of a butterfly on your back, a sparrow on your right arm, and an arrow on your left (among other things)

you also collected about half a dozen aliases over the years

overall, you were proud of who you had become, only wishing that your family could see you

‎‧₊˚✧ meanwhile

when Angela brought Genji back, one of his first thoughts was ‘where is (name)?’

he worried that Hanzo might have killed you too which only worsened his mental health

it felt as though the sun had disappeared from the sky

once he was able to eat again, if he ever went somewhere you would have liked, he would get a second order in tribute to you and place it in front of his own

it took a long time, but he actually told Angela and Cassidy about you

whenever he saw fireworks, he took it as a good omen that you were out there somewhere, not only living, but thriving

since he was revived, he dreaded the thought that one day he might see you again and you would no longer recognize him as your brother

˚₊⋅𓅫 reunion 𐀔 ⋅₊˚

not long after the downfall of overwatch and your family’s empire, the stars aligned and lead you to your brother

Genji could not have been ready to see you again

whether he feared never seeing you again or your reaction to his new body more was anyone’s guess

and then you embraced him and sunk in that you didn’t love him any differently than you did before

that was the most vulnerable and safe he had felt in a very long time

finding no trace of disgust or malice in your eyes as you looked at him gave Genji hope

you later explained how you each spent the last several years

Genji was heartbroken to realize you were essentially alone since that tragic night, but at the same time was so proud of how well you did on your own

when you two eventually parted ways, you made sure to stay in contact this time

Zenyatta was pleased to finally meet you and mentioned that Genji spoke of you often

upon seeing your sparrow tattoo, Genji removed his mask to quickly wipe away his tears

‎‧₊˚ 𐀔 butterflies traditionally symbolize hope, faith, and change ‎𐀔 ˚₊‧

#don’t let this flop #familial #platonic #genji shimada #genji x reader #sibling! reader #long post #overwatch headcanons #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch x reader #my stuff #my writing #overwatch 2 #ow2 #ow2 x reader #ow x reader #headcanons

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minkshame · 19 days

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First 648 words of my next story.

“So, don’t tell Matt.” Tom concludes and folds his arms. Edd and Tord look at him with quirked brows.

“Wait, wait. I don’t get it.” Edd shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re cursed?”

“Yes. I think I’ve mentioned this before…”

“You’re sure??”

“I mean, pretty sure.”

He had just finished a long winded explanation of his family history. Tom’s not surprised they have questions. The two of them are sat on his sofa, while Tom stands in front of them, like he’s giving a presentation.

Edd slouches forward, elbows propped on his knees. He’s paying good attention, concern evident in his frown. Tord has a fist pressed to his lips, looking deep in thought. His other arm is slung over the back of the sofa.

He’d gathered the pair at an opportune time: Matt is taking one of his extended vampiric naps. The sun is out and blazing hot. Tom would love to join him after they’re done here. Their bed is cosy and warm, inviting. Helps him forget.

“Does this relate to your monster form?” Tord asks matter-of-factly. It maybe wasn’t supposed to sound condescending, but Tord always comes across incorrectly in tone. Always. It’s just something about him that will forever annoy the shit out of Tom. He still cannot stand the way Tord talks. Even after years of his permanent return, plus his rise to power. They’re tentative friends, he’s trusted him with some more personal information about himself as time has gone on… but… he doesn’t like the norsk. He isn’t sure if he ever will.

Tom kinda had to tell him about this too. Edd would just pass it on otherwise.

“Y…yea? Kind of. That’s a side effect. I think.” He’s pretty sure he’s the only one who’s ever had something like that. Maybe his Mum did too, and never spoke about it.

“But … a curse? How do you know it’s not just a coincidence?” Edd asks, puzzledly. Tom’s shocked he doesn’t believe him.

“Because it’s happened to everyone. Mum said she’d go when she was thirty six. And she did. So did her Mum. And my aunt. They all kicked it.” He counts the deaths on his fingers. Tom doesn’t like to say it so crudely, but it helps lessen the blow for himself, and his audience. “I’m on the chopping block.” He exhales deeply.

“It’s a women-only problem.” Tord states. He folds his hands in his lap. Tom’s eye twitches. Still irritating as ever.

“As… far as I know.” He’s pretty sure.

“Then…” Edd squints. “What’s the worry?”

Tom crosses his arms. He gives them both a glare that could melt steel. The couple before him exchange glances.

“Oh.” Edd hangs his head a little sheepishly and rubs a hand across his emerging stubble. “Sorry. I forgot.” Tom doesn’t blame him for not remembering. It’s not important to their everyday lives.

“You’ve known this for a long time, then.” Tord continues.

“Yeah. It’s always been something I knew was gonna happen.”

“That’s not fair.” Edd’s mouth pinches into a deep frown. “Some lady hundreds of years ago started whinging and threw a fit and cursed you all forever?”

“Guess so.”

“Why aren’t we telling Matt?” Tord leans back in his seat.

“We’re not?” Edd darts his eyes around, looking bewildered. “I missed that part.”

“He said it at the very end, Edward.”

“He did?”

“Yes. You’re so distractible.” Tord pats Edd’s knee with a smile. Edd rolls his eyes.

“Answer my question.” The brunet narrows his gaze on Tom. “It’s not a funny secret to keep from him.”

Edd still loves tormenting Matt to this day. Tom sighs.

“I’ll… let him know eventually. It’s just simpler to not have him worried about me.” Hurting Matt brings Tom a deep form of sadness. Matt is upbeat, positive, unweathered by the world. Tom can’t tarnish him with his problems. It’s not kind.

#tp #spare changes

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 10 months

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Sleep in

Inspired by this post:

This is written especially so someone doesn't ever call for a mutiny against me again for being evil and writing angst, you know who you are.

Everyone else, enjoy!

Warnings: angst and death

Morning light filters through the window, gentle and warm, a golden undertone to the white glow. It shines beautifully on Lan Wangji’s face, bathing it as if into a halo.

Wei Wuxian caresses his cheek, the touch feather-light, the skin underneath his fingertips soft.

“You’re so beautiful in the morning, Lan Zhan. Most people look a mess when they wake up, yet you’re nothing short of a god.”

Lan Wangji’s eyelids flutter open, molten gold glimmering in the sunlight as his eyes take in his surroundings and his husband’s beautiful face, loving and fond, hair cascading over his form like endless, dark rivulets.

“I’m so happy to have you, Lan Zhan. To have had you.” His fingers trace over the man’s sharp jawline, and stop at the seam of his lips. “I love you more than words could say, more than I could ever express through anything I’d ever do.”

Lan Wangji tries a smile, the corners of his mouth weakly turning upwards.

“I know you said there is no need for thank yous between the two of us... but I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me, for everything we’ve done together.”

Lan Wangji wishes he could open his mouth to say something, or move his body to hold his husband in response to his words. But he cannot do more than look at him, eyes heavy, blurry with unshed tears.

Wei Wuxian knows – they’ve always been so synchronized – so he envelops Lan Wangji in his arms instead, and presses a kiss to the top of his head, a kiss that’s wet with salty tears.

“I love you so much, Lan Zhan. I love you and I love our life and our marriage and our kids and...” deep, shaky breath, “...and I want you to know that it’s okay. You’ve been so brave, you’ve beaten all of the odds... but you can rest now, my love. You can let go.”

Lan Wangji sighs, deeply, as if the air had been trapped inside of his lungs for far too long. Wei Wuxian presses his lips to his husband’s hair, and lets his tears fall freely as he runs his hands gently down Lan Wangji’s back, in comfort.

He feels the ridges of the man’s whip scars and his heart squeezes, as it always does when he remembers they exist, but he doesn’t dwell on them this time. Instead, he tries to imprint into his mind the warmth of his love’s body, the contours of him, the smell of him, everything.

Lan Wangji sighs again, just as deeply, and Wei Wuxian feels his eyelashes caress his collarbones as his eyes close. His muscles relax, slowly, then all at once, and his breaths come out in longer and longer intervals.

“I... love you...” Lan Wangji manages, somehow, putting all his might, all his heart and soul into uttering those three words that he’s always felt like he’d never get to say enough.

Wei Wuxian can’t hide a sob now, and leans down to leave one final kiss to his husband’s now colorless lips.

He feels the last of his breath as Lan Wangji moves against his lips ever so slightly before his body goes lax in Wei Wuxian’s arms, heavy and lifeless.

Wei Wuxian will have to let the servants know about it so all the funerary rituals could proceed. He will have to announce his family – no, their family – and their children, and... deal with everything else that came after.

But the sun has just risen, and it still bathes Lan Wangji’s features in a golden halo, and if Wei Wuxian tries hard enough, he can still feel the last embers of his husband’s warmth.

He will have to face the world and the reality of iy soon.

But now he holds the only thing he has left of his husband and sleeps.

Sleeps in his favorite place, for the very last time.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

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kittenintheden · 2 months

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Willstravaganza 2024 - Rejection, Worship

So I'm doing it, I'm turning this prompt list into a multichapter exploration of Wyll from pre-canon through canon. LET'S GO.

Scar Tissue That I Wish You Saw, Ch 1 Rating: M Word Count: 950 Content: pre-canon Wyll, young Wyll, questioning faith, vague mention of death during childbirth RE: Wyll's mother

AO3 Link

A series of vignettes following the Blade of Frontiers from his youth through his adventures with the squad, loosely based on prompts for Wyllstravaganza 2024. There will be angst, and found family, and friendship, and fighting, and romance, and very likely smut. We begin in the Gate with a seventeen-year-old Wyll questioning his faith, or lack thereof.

Wyll is not a religious man.

Much of the time, the patriars and politicians in their orbit find it curious that he and his father aren’t overly dedicated to the gods. They pay proper deference, of course, but the Ravengard men do not practice any rites, make time for regular prayer, or kneel before altars. Most people receive a polite smile and a gentle change of subject when they press the matter with the Grand Duke. In time, people stop asking altogether.

Every now and again, it comes up with the younger Ravengard. Wyll is young, only a lad of seventeen, but he holds himself as a man, refined and noble. His father ensured it so. His dedication is to the Gate, to the people. There is no time to be spread thin appeasing the gods. Not when the city needs its leadership to lift them when they are low.

But Wyll knows the true reason his father lowers his eyes when they pass the temples, why he picks up his pace ever so slightly until they clear the holy district. Wyll knows, every time he looks upon the portrait in the hall of his father standing behind a seated paladin, her fingers intertwined with his upon her shoulder, her golden eyes and dark skin radiant even on canvas, the bound hands of Ilmater prominent on her ceremonial chestplate.

Ilmater called suffering holy, and sacrifice in the name of life the most holy cause of all.

Wyll has never quite forgiven the Crying God for calling for his mother’s sacrifice at the moment of his birth. He should, it is expected. But he cannot.

Perhaps that’s why he finds himself in Rivington today, standing just outside The Open Hand temple. Wyll rubs small circles into the hilt of the shortsword at his hip as he stares up at the belltower. While the Grand Duke encourages him to regularly venture out to the Lower City to be among the people, he insists his only son keep a blade close. Just in case.

Wyll is not the only Ravengard who fears further loss.

Pigeons flit back and forth over the tiled roof, some with tightly rolled parchment bound to their legs, some without. The afternoon sun is warm, but not uncomfortably so, and the people mill about. When a few here and there note his modest but unpatched clothing, they ask if he can spare a bit of coin, and he does. Every time.

He should go inside. Pay his respects, check on the clergy. See how he can help those who suffer, those who are in need.

Wyll absently reaches for his vest pocket where a gold chain hangs and rubs the links between his fingers. He’s had it as long as he can remember. A gift. An inheritance.

His feet will not move.

“Are you all right?” says a voice from beside him.

He turns to find a human woman standing there, perhaps ten or so years his senior. Wyll is a tall youth, yet she nearly matches his height. A beauty, certainly, with flawless skin and crystalline blue eyes, her shoulder-length auburn hair swept back underneath a ceremonial headpiece. He’s unfamiliar with the iconography, but it’s clearly important for her to display it so prominently.

“Yes, saer, thank you for your kindness,” Wyll responds, inclining his head to her. “Simply lost in thought.”

The woman hums, giving him a slight smile and turning her gaze onto the monastery. “The Broken God is quite keen on keeping his lambs lost, I suppose.”

Wyll’s brow twitches ever so slightly. It’s fallen out of fashion to refer to Ilmater as The Broken God. “He’s led me here, has he not?” he says. “No better place for one to be of service.”

She gives a light laugh and then goes wide-eyed, seeming to realize her offense. “My apologies, young saer. My mouth got ahead of me. I meant no disrespect to you or your patron.”

It’s Wyll’s turn to laugh. “No, I am not of Ilmater’s clergy. I uphold his teachings as best I can, but the god and I, we… ah.” He bites his cheek, considering his next words. “Have our differences,” he finishes weakly.

The woman tilts her head and looks him over. “What god does a man of the people worship if not the god of those suffering most?”

Wyll arches a brow at her and she shifts her eyes over to the children playing nearby. “I saw you handing out coin just now.”

“Subtle as I try to be, I can never quite manage,” he says, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged. To answer your question… none.”

“Interesting,” the woman says. “You do so seem like the type. I mean that as a compliment, by the way.”

“Then I shall take it as such,” Wyll says. “Forgive me, I don’t recognize your symbol.” He indicates her headpiece.

She smiles, then. “A lady looking to strike a deal,” she says. “One who always gets her man.”

His brow furrows again. “I see. Well. My apologies for my sudden leave, but I’ve come here on business and I should get to it.”

“Of course,” the woman says, nodding her head to him. “Do take care.”

Wyll pays her a tight smile and turns toward the postmaster, intending to bring up the mess his delivery system leaves once again.

Behind his back, the woman’s smile goes sly, her eyes briefly flashing red.

“See you soon,” she says.

#wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #baldurs gate wyll #wyllstravaganza2024 #wyll week #wyllweek2024 #wyllweek #kitten writes #wyllstravaganza

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voylitscope · 1 year

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Eight Stucky Fic Quotes/Lines/Moments That I Cannot Stop Thinking About

A somewhat non-standard rec list.

I've read a lot of brilliant and beautiful fic in this fandom, and a lot of those stories stayed with me long after I read them. There are also some very specific little moments/lines/paragraphs in a handful of fics that are burned into my brain. These are moments that have lived in my head rent-free since I first read them.

Those moments/lines come from the eight fics on this list. These eight fics are also among my very favorite fics. (I can't actually rank my favorites. I have a lot more than eight, and I love them all.) So, I thought this post would be a fun and hopefully interesting way to highlight/celebrate some of the amazing writing in this fandom and to talk about a few fics I love.

All fics on this list are fics I first read at least three months ago, so all these moments are ones I've been thinking about (a lot) for a while.

(Moments are context/spoiler-free for anything that's not already in tags/summaries.)

offer me that deathless death by canistakahari

(Explicit | 10,565 words)

(Fun fact: This is also the first fic about these two that ever made me cry! It still upsets me when I reread it. In the best possible way.)

The moment:

“Nothing. Nothing’s gotten into me,” Bucky says quickly. “Just wanted…” He makes an empty gesture between them. “I just wanted something good.”

Steve’s irritation passes like a cloud over the sun. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything,” says Bucky. “All of it. Not you, though.” He tangles their fingers together. He will remember this, on every single morning that sees fit to reset the universe. He won’t lose the best thing he’s got.

Steve squeezes his hand and sets his jaw. He’s unhappy, still, but he doesn’t give voice to that lingering urge to fuss.

“You’re the only thing that’s right,” says Bucky. “Okay? You are, Steve.”

Lane Lines by Sparkagrace @sparkagrace

(Mature | 132,519 words)

(This fic is a journey and every emotional moment — including the one below — is hard-earned. It's stunningly done and so, so satisfying.)

The moment:

“I’m scared of what’s out there too. I’ll hold your hand, Buck.” He says. “Coney Island, remember?”

Bucky huffs and shakes his head, wiping at his eyes. “Steve, that’s kids stuff. We were drinking.”

Steve holds out his hand in front of them to prove him wrong: palm up and open. Bucky studies his hand, trying to gauge how serious Steve is, before tentatively placing his own in Steve’s. Bucky’s fingers are cold so Steve curls his fingers around the hand, securing them in place.

Steve doesn’t say anything else and the two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, hands clutched. Steve feels the warmth returning to Bucky’s fingers, and his breathing begins to steady and even out. He wonders why they didn’t do this before because even he begins to feel a blanket settling over his own nerves, grounding himself.

Strangers in the Street by Crinklefries

(Teen | 15,304 words)

(How do the rules of time travel/alternate timelines work in the MCU? Does the MCU even know? Does it matter? Not really. What matters is that this fic involves timeline travel, and it's gorgeous. That's all you need to know.)

The moment:

Steve looks sad at that, just hopelessly, interminably sad.

“You know me,” Bucky says, searching Steve’s eyes. He can’t see a lie there; maybe Steve isn’t capable of it, maybe he doesn’t know how to, not to Bucky. Steve nods. “I know you too. How do I know you?”

“I’m Steve and you’re Bucky,” Steve says. “I would know any iteration of you, in any timeline, in any universe.”

Bucky can’t lie either. He doesn’t know why this is true, but he knows that it is.

He twines their fingers together, watches Steve watch him as he brings their hands to his mouth and kisses them.

Calico Skies by musette22 @musette22

(Explicit | 52,618 words)

(This fic just has so much warmth to it. It's comforting and incredibly romantic and I love it so very much. Even thinking about this fic makes me smile.)

The moment:

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, time seems to be suspended. Bucky can see the moment it clicks: Steve’s face goes from blank to shocked in the span of a few seconds, and then his expression crumbles. Bucky’s heart contracts painfully at seeing Steve looking so young, so utterly vulnerable. Before he knows what’s happening, Steve has dropped his bag and is all but running over to him, crossing the landing deck in a few long strides. Bucky feels himself break out into a watery smile. He opens his arms, just in time for Steve to throw his entire 6’4” super body into them.

Bucky lets out an oooff and stumbles backwards, arms wrapping around Steve to hold onto him as tightly as possible. Putting his strength to good use, Steve manages to keep them both from tumbling to the floor, burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as he repeats his name over and over.

“You’re alright,” Bucky tells him, lifting a hand to cup the back of Steve’s head. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Take Your Time Coming Home by odetteandodile

(Explicit | 13,047 words)

(A fic that manages to be both a prewar fic and an AU. There's letter writing! They were roommates! I'm so desperately fond of this one.)

The moment:

He rises that first evening only to shower and eat and read the brief, precious note waiting for him on the kitchen counter. It reads, simply:

Steve, with all my heart I’m glad it was you.—Bucky

Lonesome no more by dharmasharks @dharmasharks

(Explicit | 7,539 words)

(The achingly tender, soft, and beautifully written Wakanda fic we all need in our lives.)

The moment:

“Can we try to do this? Just this?”

A breath passes between them. Bucky lifts his hand to Steve’s neck. Then he leans in.

Steve doesn’t really have the most favorable associations with this sort of thing. He remembers being sort of terrified. Or intimidated. Or obligated.

But kissing Bucky is nothing like that. It’s only soft and warm. And safe.

He’s still living inside it for a second, after Bucky pulls back. It occurs to him how small a space that was to cross, those few inches between their faces. Why did he convince himself back then, for all those years, that it was an impossible, unreachable distance?

Targeting by queenmab_scherzo

(Explicit | 149,148 words)

(I'm obsessed with the way this fic manages to so closely parallel canon — while making it about football. Obsessed.)

The moment:

In the ensuing silence, Steve clears his throat and squares his shoulders, bracing himself for the next part.

"Can … Can I still call you Bucky?"

He turns to fully face Steve. There is a small crease between his eyes, the only marker that betrays any emotion in his otherwise neutral mask.

"Yeah," he says. His lips barely move. "What else would you call me."

Steve feels as if an ocean wave has just crashed into his lungs. The bluntness of the statement—what could otherwise come across as curt and standoffish—is actually what makes Steve so happy.

What else would you call me.

Steve shakes his head, opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, floundering. "I don't know," he admits. He feels like an idiot, but he can't stop grinning. "Yeah. I don't know."

Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFears

(Mature | 117,692 words)

(NEC feels like s very obvious choice for a list like this, and for good reason. I'm ending on a classic. It's often the letters themselves that are quoted/mentioned — also for good reason! And, believe me, those swim in my brain too, they do. But, for me, the thing I'll never stop thinking about? The moment in this fic that moved into my brain? It's this one here.)

The moment:

“How you been?” says a voice, a voice like Brooklyn at sunset; like the curl of cigarette smoke above base camp in France.

“Buck.”

“Don’t hit the light.”

Steve doesn’t, standing with his fist knuckling white around the kitchen countertop. The dark figure stands from the chair Cagney sat in and Bucky walks to him. His face comes into the light from the hallway. He wears a ball cap and a tattered blue surplus coat and his hair hangs lank down to his shoulders. There’s more beard on his face than during the winter of 1944. Steve feels a rushing in his head, and a strange displacement in time. This is because it simply ceases to exist. It’s 1938, or 1941, or 2009; he doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter. There is a dimple in Bucky’s chin. Steve feels a snap inside himself. Bucky is before him. He grabs at Steve’s neck as if to hold him up, as though one of them might fall, and he cups at it roughly, his own mouth twisting.

“Hey, you,” Bucky says, rough.

“God,” Steve gasps, and his knees almost buckle. Bucky’s right hand is big and calloused and familiar, his thick square fingers hot on Steve’s skin. Steve grasps his arm. “Hey. Hey, Buck.”

“That’s me,” Bucky says, and Steve lets out a hysterical, gasping laugh. “Really me. Or mostly me.”

Fic Rec Series

#Stucky fic #stucky fic rec #SteveBucky #this is not in any way a 2022 wrap-up rec list #But this still feels like the right time of year to make and post a rec list #There are so many talented people in this fandom #and I am forever amazed by it #Fic Recs #Fic Rec Series

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