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chosobeee · 6 months

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𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓞𝓷 𝓗𝓲𝓶 ♡

Pairing: Soft!Toji Fushiguro x GN!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: Again very self indulgent, lots of fluff. Toji is WHIPPED. Extremely ooc--I just really love me some soft Toji, I'm sorry, I promise I'll do one where he's his mean little self to balance it out. Some cussing, mentions of Toji being a dick.

A/N: Yay my second fic! I got even more carried away with this one than the last. But I think this one came out better, so I'm not upset. Also yes, it is in head canon format, but honestly it makes me feel more comfortable to write in this format, especially after being SO out of practice writing. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! xx

- Your work week has been a long and tiring one. Being promoted was something that excited you at first, more hours equals more money—which never hurt anyone, right?

- Now, a few months into the promotion, you’re starting to heavily regret accepting the position. Constantly picking up shifts for people who called out, having to go the extra mile all the time and never being thanked or rewarded for it. Truth be told, it fucking sucks.

- But now that you and your boyfriend have finally moved into an apartment together, you both need to work in order to pay the bills. Rent isn’t gonna pay itself.

- Toji picked up a contractor job for some of the larger buildings currently being built in the inner city area—a job that paid well, but kept him away from you for longer than you liked. You’re proud of him, though, knowing he’s working hard for the life you’re slowly building together. The thought made your heart flutter in your chest.

- Stepping onto the welcome mat you had gotten as a house warming gift, your feet ached. Each step felt as though you were walking on shattered glass and upturned nails. Sharp pains shoot up your thighs and lower back as you dig into your bag to retrieve your keys.

- Inside, you’re greeted with the delicious scent of an unidentified food being cooked. It was so pleasant compared to all of the other signals felt in your body that you immediately let out a sigh of contentment.

- Kicking off the shoes that were now suffocating your feet and dropping your bag and keys at the door, you shuffle your way into the kitchen and lean against the frame.

- There Toji stands, his back facing you, focused on stirring whatever is in the pot in front of him. You can hear him whistling a soft tune, one that makes the warmth in your chest spread to your cheeks.

- He was so… husband material now. You thought back to when you first met him, the way he acted. He was so much more cold, distant—abrasive, even. You don’t know how or why, but as you started growing closer, it was like a switch flipped in his head. Well, maybe not that quickly, but it still surprised you.

- Not that you were complaining.

- He became so sweet when it came to you. He was so reassuring, soft, and kind. He would give you gifts—and not necessarily expensive ones, but ones that held sentimental value. Things that reminded him of you, and things to remind you of him. He would call you sweet nicknames, take care of you when you fell ill, call and make appointments for you when you felt particularly anxious.

- It’s precious to see him now, bustling about in the kitchen to cook a meal for you in your shared home. It seems so anti-Toji. The old him would’ve scoffed at this idea, claiming he would never be "weak" enough to settle down for someone like that.

- Suddenly sensing your presence, Toji’s whistling comes to a halt and he turns around, wooden spoon in hand. He smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Staring again, doll?” He puts a hand on his hip. “I know I’m pretty, but a ‘hello’ would be nice, too.”

- You chuckle, walking up to the counter and leaning on it for support. “You are pretty. And you seemed so peaceful doing your little house husband things, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

- He scrunches his eyebrows and pouts. Toji Fushiguro is pouting. “We both know I’m the real breadwinner in this family.”

- Your roll your eyes and he points the wooden spoon at you punitively. “Now come taste this and tell me what you think, brat.”

- After you’re both finished with dinner you decide to curl up on the couch and catch up on an episode of the show you guys have been putting off for a while now.

- Not even five minutes into the episode your eyes are already growing heavy. The day is really catching up to you now. Sighing, you gently lift Toji’s arm and lean down, resting your head in his lap.

- Before you even have the chance, Toji is grabbing the blanket at your waist and pulling it up over your shoulders. He keeps in in place with his arm while he combs his fingers absentmindedly through your hair, his attention still on the screen in front of you. Unknown to you, though, is Toji's face-splitting smile, always happy to be the one you lean on.

- You’re already fast asleep by the time the episode is over, and Toji is well aware of it, too. He smiles gently at your soft snores, leaning over you just enough to see your face squished against his thigh.

- He lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes his head. He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but he is absolutely taken by you. He hasn’t held anything this close to his heart in a very long time, and honestly, that sometimes scares him a bit.

- Carefully, he rolls you into a little burrito and picks you up bridal-style, carrying you all the way to your shared bed before setting you down gently and unwrapping you from your burrito prison.

- Before crawling into bed he looks down at you once more, taking in the peaceful expression you wear while asleep. Caressing your cheek, he leans down and kisses you on the forehead.

- Every single day he falls more in love with you, and he’s almost certain you barely notice how genuinely deep his feelings run. He tries to make it clear with reassurance and gift giving, but he knows that he’s still not the best at communicating his feelings. But he tries, really hard. Just for you. Because he loves you and he wants to make sure you understand just how much.

- He knows how hard you’ve worked for this life together with him. He knows how hard it can be on you, especially with your new promotion and his work hours being almost completely opposite of yours. He knows how much you care about him and this relationship, and it makes his heart soar. He’s had flings in the past, but nothing that’s ever been this serious. No one who has ever taken him serious.

- You’re a blessing, a miracle. To know that he gets to spend his life by your side isn’t something he takes lightly. He’s forever grateful that you chose him, that you chose to be by his side, even when in the beginning he was more of a dickhead than anything else. And for that, he will always protect you. He will always cherish you.

- Slipping out of his shirt and sweats, he takes his place in bed next to you, covering you both up with the blankets and pulling you into his chest.

- You breathe out a contented breath and lay your arm across his chest, bringing your leg up and over his. Snuggling into his side, he smiles. He turns off the bedside lamp and lets the darkness cover you both like a blanket.

- He kisses you on top of the head once more before closing his own eyes, happy to be able to wake up next to you in the morning to come.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 3 days

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airp2ds

read part one of airpods here!!!

wc: 2k reader: femme!afab (matt calls reader a "pretty girl", is called a "young lady" by their uncle-- it's meant to feel derogatory ofc, reader is wearing a skirt, reader dances at a strip club in stilettos) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- less of a bonkers scenario, but some really rich and fun plot development this time; funny & angst & fluff surprisingly-- stepcest obvi and we discuss it summary: after (y/n)'s little stunt a few days ago, their whole family gathers for an anything but peaceful dinner. rivalnewstepbrother!matthew has no interest in helping you out of this awful situation. or does he? yooooooo this only took 4 months to post, but it's perfect so hope you'll forgive me!! i TOLD you i'd do it eventually. and i did. missing organ and all. ilyyy thanks for bearing with me ੈ✩‧₊˚

ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, stepcest and we don't ignore it, p-in-v penetrative sex, brief heavy petting/fingering, not entirely safe cum destination lmao, unprotected obviously (do what you want, be smart), reader is a dancer at a strip club and their family is appalled, swearing... this one made me feel again yay

you stick your fork in a potato and pop it in your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you stare at your plate. your entire extended family converses around you at the long, glass dining table, celebrating your new stepdad’s birthday with your mom’s locally famous honey ham and roasted potatoes.

everyone’s having a goodman ball.

everyone except... you.

after suffering such a devastating defeat a couple nights ago, you’d been avoiding matthew like the plague. tail between your legs, you’d stood up from your stepbrother’s bed after he left you high and dry— sulking all the way back to your room.

you’d been avoiding matthew so diligently since then that this dinner was the first time you’d seen him since his fingers were inside you. he’s eating a little too well and talking to all of your family members, oozing respect and likability.

you’ve never hated anyone more.

“now matthew,” you grandmother starts, reaching out her hand to him, “please tell us more about what you’ve been doing abroad. it all sounds so important from what your father’s mentioned!”

matthew smiles humbly. “i’ve been pursuing a career in performance in seoul! it’s really not all that important in the scheme of things, but it’s definitely been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.”

“don’t be too humble, matthew,” your stepdad calls from the head of the table. “he works tirelessly day and night to accomplish his goal! he’s such a great kid.”

“we’re so very proud. i never imagined having a child with such passion and drive!” your mom chimes in obliviously. her eyes widen when she realizes what she said and she clears her throat awkwardly. “i mean, a son, that is.”

you close your eyes, stabbing a roasted red potato and letting your fork clatter onto the fine china plate.

“(y/n), how are you doing?” your uncle asks quickly. “have you found a better job yet?”

“i’m doing fine, thank you,” you answer through gritted teeth. “and i like my job. i’m not interested in finding one that society would categorize as better at this time.”

“but a young lady like you shouldn’t be—.”

“but what i am interested in finding a better version of,” you interrupt, picking up your glass of wine and downing the remaining contents, “is a family. one that doesn’t judge me or compare me to my new stepbrother— who, if i’m to judge from how you all indulge him, is jesus christ reincarnated! how divinely exciting!”

“(y/n),” your mother scolds, grabbing the empty wine glass out of your hand. “don’t be so cruel to your brother.”

“he’s not my brother,” you assert, snatching the wine glass back. in a flash, it slips from your fingers and shatters onto the dining room floor.

“you always do this,” your mother sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. she can’t even look at you. "you get so jealous when anyone is doing better than you are. i’m just so tired of your selfish immaturity.”

“perhaps it's time for you to get your own apartment and stop freeloading off of us,” your stepfather says with a sigh. “then you’ll find the motivation to stop working at that indecent bar and start making a proper living.”

your stomach flips at the threat. “i grew up in this house. you moved in a year ago after the mortgage was already paid off. doesn’t that make you as much of a fucking freeloader as i am?”

“(y/n), stop this right now,” your mom tries again to quiet you.

“you talk like that and you think you could ever be as well-liked as my son? the—”

“dad,” matthew says, trying to interrupt the rant that’s already begun. he should know by now it’s too late.

“—reason that no one here ever boasts about your accomplishments is because you have none. the reason no one ever praises how respectable you are is because it would be a lie. you—”

“dad,” matthew says again, louder this time but it still doesn’t reach the ears of the valentino-suited man turning red in the face.

“—are an ungrateful brat of an adult child that doesn’t even have enough vision for their life to stop working at a strip club.”

everyone at the dinner table gasps. so the truth has been set free: ‘bar’ had been the code word your ashamed mother and stepfather had been using in place of ‘strip club’ for the past year.

guess their resentment had finally outweighed their shame.

your gaze travels down the table, landing on matthew. he’s staring at his lap awkwardly.

“if you’ll excuse me,” you say, standing up from your chair and giving a big, facetious curtsy. “the whore will leave the table now.”

——

you slam your bedroom door behind you, storming over to your bed and picking up your favorite plushy— the one your dad had bought you for your high school graduation before he... it’s a baby fox, pink blush across his smiling face. usually the only aggression you feel towards him is that of cuteness, but suddenly you find yourself filled with rage.

how had you not noticed before just how much barnaby foxworth iii looks like your stupid fucking stepbrother!?

you turn around, hurling baby foxworth across your room with a scream. your eyes widen as the plushy lands in the hands of his human twin. you hadn’t heard him come in over the blood rushing in your ears.

matthew looks at the plushy, brow furrowing as he studies it. “i feel like i’ve seen this face somewhere before.”

“get the fuck out of my room,” you growl, walking over to him and grabbing baby foxworth. you frown as matthew holds onto him, not letting you pry your own plushy from his hands. “let go of him! what the fuck is your problem!?”

“i distinctly remember you stealing something from me a couple days ago and making it quite the fucking challenge to get it back,” matthew argues, pulling a little harder. “besides, how much can you really want something that you just threw across the room?”

you continue a tug-o-war for your beloved baby fox until you hear a sudden ripping noise. matthew lets go instantly, fear splayed across his face. you take baby foxworth in your arms, finding the fabric tear at the base of his little neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “i really didn’t meant to—.”

“you’re sorry?” you repeat, jaw clenching as you step towards him. “sorry for what? sorry that you mamed barnaby foxworth iii? sorry that you barged into my room without knocking? sorry that i’ve made yet another mess out of a family celebration?”

“(y/n)…”

“sorry that all you do while they ridicule me is sit there and stare at your plate? sorry that your dad married my mom?”

“wait, (y/n)—…”

“sorry that i work at a strip club? sorry for what we did the other day?”

“i—…,” he stutters hopelessly. “i—.”

suddenly, your lips are on matthew’s— his body tensing at the unexpected action. you pull back, eyes meeting his.

they’re wide, shocked, confused. his hand reaches towards your face quickly and you think for a moment he’s going to slap you with it, but instead, he cups your jaw.

holding you still, he brings his lips back down to touch yours again. it’s a slow, languid kiss that, in and of itself, feels like an apology. a genuine one.

it’s overwhelming. it challenges everything you thought you knew about this stranger you were now forced to call family.

you step back, clutching baby foxworth tighter to your chest.

“they were so impressed when you told them you’re a dancer,” you whisper, tears beginning to spill over. “why were they so disgusted when i told them i am, too?”

his face falls as he thinks about your words. “i think you know why.”

you press your lips together, a sardonic huff of a laugh escaping you. did you really think you’d get sympathy from him?

“but it’s not fair,” matthew continues. “it’s not fair that they treat you that way.”

you’re afraid to look up at him, eyes remaining fixed on the tear at your plushy’s neck. “i didn’t even think you’d noticed.”

“i’ll admit, i didn’t see it at first. it’s not like i’m here that often,” he replies with a sigh. “and i guess i did think you were the problem. and i do still think you’re part of the problem, don’t get me wrong.”

you roll your eyes, looking down at the floor.

“but maybe you’ve forgotten that no one knows what my dad can be like more than i do,” matthew says, wrapping his hand gently around your upperarm. “i thought maybe he’d finally changed for the better after marrying your mom, but i know now that’s far from the truth. and i can try my best to help you from now on, if you’ll let me.”

“thanks,” you say quietly as your eyes meet his. he smiles softly at you before you promptly brush his hand off your arm. “but i still don’t like you.”

your hostility just widens his smile. “i thought you’d say that.”

you turn, walking back to your bed and placing baby foxworth by your pillows. you think about what your family must still be saying about you around the dinner table. your thoughts are halted, however, when a warm, muscular chest is soon pressed against your back.

“i was just wondering,” he says softly against your ear, arm snaking around your waist. “there has to be something about me that you like, right? i mean, you're the one who wanted my face in your cunt. and don't think i haven't heard you call me perfect a few times now.”

“i meant it as an insult,” you breathe as a hand reaches underneath your skirt— fingers beginning to pad delicate circles over your panties.

“was screaming my name while cumming all over my fingers also supposed to be taken as an insult?” he asks, knee against the back of yours until you tumble gently onto your bed— his arms catching you and flipping you on your back to face him. “you must’ve really been trying to offend me.”

matthew shimmies your skirt and panties down your legs and you find yourself assisting to kick it off with your foot onto the floor. he laughs much too smugly as he unzips his slacks and discards them onto the hardwood. you hover your foot over his groin, brow raising in a threat.

“okay, okay,” he admits in defeat. as a grin stretches across your lips, he bites at your thighs hungrily and sighs. “god, i wish i wasn’t your brother.”

“matt!” you screech in horror and he takes the opportunity to sink himself inside you. you gasp at the sudden stretch, a protest turning to a whimper as he smirks at you. “matt...”

“no need to worry, baby,” he coos, tip of his cock reaching your backmost wall. “it’s pretty obvious there’s a divorce on the way. my dad’s already let it slip to me about how he secretly blew all the money in their joint savings on a third yacht.”

“my mom’s been fucking her tennis instructor for two months,” you reply, trying to hold yourself together as matthew increases his pace. “and her golf instructor. and her pilates instructor. and her business lawyer. and her—.”

matthew’s lips meet yours. “you’re so fucking hot.”

you run your hand up his chest, tugging at his shirt until he pulls it off over his head. it’s a shame to admit it, but... he is perfect.

“but if our parents get divorced, we’ll never see each other,” you say with a pout. you shake your head quickly, realizing what you just said. “which i’m totally fine with. but you’d probably be really upset.”

a particularly rough thrust sends you reeling— crying out in pleasure and totally blowing your act.

“yeah, it’d be really hard for me,” matthew patronizes, mimicking your pout. “g’nna cum for me, pretty girl? hm?”

“fuck,” you whine, nearly at your peak. you honestly had no idea how good at dancing matthew was, but if he was half as good at dancing as he was at fucking, then even goddamn dick van dyke would be proud. your walls flutter around him, a chorus of moans as he pushes you over the edge.

“oh my god,” matthew rasps as you reach your climax, his thrusts growing more desperate and sporadic. “pussy’s so fucking perfect, baby. made me want you so bad, i—.”

he pulls out quickly, a few pumps before painting your cunt with his cum as he moans under his breath. he stares at the sight for a few moments before his head tilts thoughtfully and a smirk upturns a corner of his lips.

“something to share with the class?” you ask, one eyebrow piquing.

he laughs, shrugging at your prodding. “i was just thinking about how i definitely wouldn’t be the golden child anymore if anyone knew about this.”

“i dunno. i think somehow you’d still come out unscathed,” you say, shaking your head. “i must’ve tempted you. coerced you. blackmailed you.”

he smiles at you sadly. “listen, i know that... i know things must suck for you right now and—... i mean it when i say i’m gonna try my best to fix—.”

“matthew!”

you both freeze as the sound of your stepfather’s voice rings from downstairs. matthew clears his throat, calling back, “yeah?”

“come downstairs! aunt bethany wants to talk to you about visiting seoul.”

“okay!” matthew answers. he rolls his eyes. “i hate your aunt bethany.”

“you and me both, kid,” you reply, sitting up on your hands as matthew hurriedly gets dressed. “have fun.”

“come with me,” he requests, picking up your skirt from off the floor and holding it out to you.

you consider it, but shake your head. “tell me if you hear any good gossip about me. i have to get ready for my shift anyway.”

“really? you’re gonna go strip after this?” matthew asks, lips parted in surprise.

“dance,” you correct. “i’m gonna go dance.”

he smiles. “when do you get back?”

“around one,” you answer, standing up and walking over to your vanity. “why?”

“my flight’s at midnight,” he says, biting his lip. your mascara clatters to the table as a tiny, annoying ball of disappointment forms in your chest. “so i guess i’ll catch you another time.”

you don’t say anything— just continue doing your makeup as you try to ignore that growing ball.

“okay then,” matthew says finally, opening your door. “bye, (y/n).”

“my mom’s birthday is next month.”

the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. you don’t regret it.

“she likes you more than me, so,” you continue with as much nonchalance as you can feign. “she’d probably want to see you.”

matthew catches your eye through your mirror. he just smiles.

~ EPILOGUE ~

you clamber through your bedroom door in the dark, stilettos still on as you stumble into bed and flop onto it in exhaustion. you clap your hands— bedside light turning on as you reach for baby foxworth. you cradle him under your chin, squeezing him tight. suddenly, you remember the tear in his neck from when matthew had ripped him after dinner.

you feel around for the hole, but are surprised when you find a crinkly, purple sticky note instead. on it, is written:

told you i’m gonna try to fix everything. — your favorite brother ;)

“disgusting,” you mutter under your breath, turning your attention back to baby foxworth’s neck hole. except...

there is no hole.

okay, matty, you think with a smile. let’s see what you’ve got.

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shsy7573 · 3 months

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Random Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) Character/Song Analysis Kinda Thing… I Guess

Okay, so yeah, Luci has 100% taken over this page. So what? I’m not obsessed, you are.

Anyway, I’ve been listening to “More Than Anything” on repeat since it dropped, and like a lot of the fandom I tear up every single time… but unlike a lot of the fandom, it’s not because of the sweet father-daughter moment (which, don’t get me wrong, doesn’t help the situation because it’s just so damn wholesome).

No, what gets me is how, just through a couple subtle moments, the show is able to convey just how absolutely shattered Luci is as a character. And, you know, because he’s my favourite, bestest, snek-baby-duck-boy, it makes me a little emotional…

So now you’re all gonna hear about what goes through my mind every time I listen to it. YAY!

“Charlie! You don’t understand, Heaven never listens. They didn’t listen to me. They won’t listen to you!” / “You don’t know that—” / “I do!”

It starts before the song even truly begins. When I’m listening, it’s usually these first few lines that grab my attention. I end up replaying the first 4-5 seconds of the song over and over again because the pain in that “I do” is so fucking good! (And because I like to suffer apparently cuz I end up sad. Life of an angst lover I guess).

It’s the first time we see him with actual tears in his eyes. The raw delivery of that line is so attention grabbing, and manages to say so much in such little words.

I think the reason this particular scene tickles my brain so much is because it’s the breaking point for his character in a way. I am, and always will be, a sucker for moments where a character’s walls finally come down, and we get to see what’s been festering inside. When their deepest thoughts and how much they’re hurting are revealed. The entire song is what that is for Lucifer, starting with these two words right here. I truly cannot put into words just how much my breath is taken away by Jeremy’s delivery of this line. I cannot articulate how much I love it, and how important it is for Luci’s character. it just hits so deep and so right for me and I love it.

Lucifer isn’t just saying that he knows Heaven isn’t going to care about her plan (I don’t think anyone thought that’s all he was saying but whatever). He is saying that he knows what Heaven does to dreamers. He knows what they’ll do because he has already been there, and it destroyed him. They took his ideas that they saw as too outlandish, and they squashed them. Cast him aside. And he paid the price for it when he went bashing their back and did his own thing anyway.

Luci is a broken dreamer. Throughout the entire episode, and the series as a while, we are given very strong hints of this. However, it’s not until this song that we really see it in action. It’s not until these moments that we are able to see past both the veils of “Imposing King of Hell” and “Goofy Guy who’s trying his best but not great at Dadding,” and get a look at how genuinely depressed this man is.

“My dreams were too hard to defend.”

This scene eight here. The more I see it, the more I fall in love with it. Just a great example of ‘show don’t tell.’

He’s talking about having big ideas, he’s talking about giving people a chance and reaching outside the normal, he’s talking about being cast out of Heaven. I just love the parallel he’s drawing between Charlie’s mission, and his own past.

Charlie created the hotel in an attempt to give people who have been seen as lesser to all of Heaven some sort of chance. She is choosing to have faith in them, and to open up opportunities for them to lead a better life.

Lucifer, when he gave Eve the fruit, was taking a chance to allow humanity the chance to have free will. He wanted them to experience everything life had to offer for themselves like angels got to. He offered a chance for them to lead a better life.

He had everything, and he had complete faith that what he was doing was right. All the light and hope of his dreams was right in the palm of his hand. He had so many ideas that he thought, if they were saw through, would make the world a better place.

But it didn’t work out for him.

“And in the end, I won’t lose it all again.”

Now, the first seconds of dialogue may be what I keep rewatching, but this has got to be my favourite visual of the entire song. It’s such powerful imagery, and I fangirl over it every time.

Look at how small he looks in that shot (I know, I know, he’s tiny regardless, but like seriously). He is completely outnumbered, hopelessly overpowered, totally at the mercy of all his Heavenly superiors… and he’s all alone.

He lost everything because he had the gall to dream. It’s not hard to look at the song (and the episode at large, really) and find not only his feelings of being wronged, but also his immense guilt. It shows in how much he hates Sinners. They are basically the worst of what he did, a constant reminder of the day his mistake caused him to lose his home and everything he held dear, and they are all he gets to see. Only being permitted to see your failures for all eternity? No wonder he’s fucking depressed.

The day Heaven cast him out was the day he stopped dreaming. Because dreaming big only leads to pain, failure, and suffering.

“I just don’t want you to be crushed by them like… like I was.”

This next moment is kinda self explanatory and obvious and really doesn’t need any commentary, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway. Because I love it, and I love him, and… you know… angst. I’ve mentioned my lust for it several times now throughout this post, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

I just feel so bad for him. Lucifer made one mistake. One simple, misguided mistake that ended up introducing evil into the world, and all of Heaven came down on him for it. And, you know what, in the narrative presented by the show, what he did wasn’t that bad. He just wanted to give the world’s newest creations the same freedom angels had, and it backfired horribly. Lucifer, like Charlie, was an idealist who saw the best in people and wanted to help.

And what did he get for his good intentions? Shoved into the cesspool he unintentionally created, and forbidden to ever see anything good that came from his dream.

If I had to guess, Lilith was the only thing keeping his mental health afloat for a long time… and then they had Charlie.

“The tales about your lofty dreams. I’d listen breathlessly, imaging it could be me.”

His daughter became the light of his life. Something that he cherished and indulged more than anything else in the world. To him, she was perfect, and he wanted to do right by her in any way he could.

Lilith told their daughter stories of all her father’s dreams regardless of what he thought of them, and when the little princess came asking him… how could he refuse? How could he refuse her anything?

So he shared them with her. All the tales of grandeur, and fantasies of everything he wished the world could have been. All the dreams he had long since let go.

“And in the end, it’s the view I had of you that show me dreams can be worth fighting for.”

Now, the scene where Lily take’s Charlie away has always been excellent brain fodder for me because of how somewhat ambiguous it is. You could interpret his sadness to have SO MANY meanings. However, I have inevitably decided on two potential head-cannons/theories to share here for what could possibly be going through Snek-King’s head.

One: Lucifer loves his daughter, but he feels estranged and like he’s failed her in some way. She’s such a joy, such a wonder, and in a way it's his fault she’s trapped down here with all of human ties worst. He wasn’t to be close to her, and to make the world perfect for her… but he already feels like he’s failed her in the most unforgivable way. He keeps his distance because part of him doesn’t want her to have a super high of an opinion of him. It’s kind of his depression manifesting, saying that ‘she shouldn’t admire you and your stupid dreams when they’re the reason she’ll never see true light and happiness.’

The angst addict in me likes this one more, but still I’ve got another one that always pops.

Two: He feels like he’s selling her false hope, and he can kind of see the place her innocence is headed. He’s seen the horrors of the world, and he knows the more he indulges her dreams and fantasies, the more she’ll suffer when she sees that’s not what the world is like. He knows from personal experience how much it hurts when your dreams come undone, when you lose hope in the world.

Listening to Charlie’s actual lyrics, she tells him that he was the one who inspired her to dream, that he was right to dream, and that she’s not going to back down. In the song, Luci realises that 1: maybe he didn’t fuck us as badly as he thought and that she actually doesn’t blame him and wants her in his life and/or 2: she has her mother’s willpower, and she’s never going to stop dreaming or let her world be sullied like he did. She’s so much stronger than he was.

So he lets her in.

(Side note… AWWW, look how TINNYY he is! He’s so small. The start contrast in the second image gets me every time)

There’s a bit of symbolism in the song which I ABSOLUTELY adore, and it has to do with the wings. In the flashback, Charlie mentions his “lofty dreams,” when we see the duck, which later transforms to have multiple sets of wings. Later in the song, when Lucifer finally lets her in, he also sprouts those wings.

And I just love this, because I think it acts as the perfect symbolism of him finally opening his mind again. Not just to his daughter, but to the possibility of dreaming in general.

He takes her to a circus, a place filled to the brim with spectacles and thrills, a place where humanities wildest imaginations seem possible.

But even though he’s beginning to open up, and he’s willing to help her in whatever she does, he’s not ‘fixed.’ His depression and self doubt and feelings of hollow emptiness and guilt and apprehension aren’t gone.

And he’s still terrified of seeing her spark go out like his did.

This tiny smile break is so addicting to watch for me. It speaks volumes. Once again, my angst loving heart eats it up every time. It says, “I’m still worried, and there is still so much shit going on in my mind right now about all of this, but I’m here for you.”

And that’s what counts.

Luci’s character showed a lot of colours, and came a long way in this singular episode, but he’s still got a big uphill battle to climb. He still has to come back into his own where dreams are concerned. Maybe he never will, not completely. Realistically, he’ll never go back to the way he was.

But maybe, just maybe, in helping his daughter he’ll find something worth believing in again.

That is, of course, if they decide to give him a character arc beside ‘Dad who is trying and doing better,’ but for that only time will tell.

—

And THAT concludes my rant on the Rubber Ducky Ruler. If you stuck around this long, good for you! I wrote this whole thing on a limb at midnight, and NO I’m not going to go back and edit it because why would I ever want to see all the horrid grammatical and spelling errors I’ve inevitably made.

Maybe I’m off the mark on all of this. Maybe I’m head-cannoning too much. Maybe I’m just trying to suck out every hint of potential angst out of a song that’s supposed to be sweet and wholesome. That’s for you to decide. But for me, I’ve decided that I’m satisfied with this analysis. In the end, I just needed to express all the thoughts bumbling around in my head SOMEWHERE before I exploded, and unfortunately, I feel like I’ve run all my friends dry talking about this baby to them, so now it’s your turn. But, anyways, I think that about wraps things up. It’s time to go to bed.

Farewell, stay hydrated, and have a lovely rest of your day/night :)

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #character analysis #kind of #bless my angst loving heart #I just had to talk about him

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bellaturner · 9 months

Text

The Unexpected

Unusual fluff (?)

Summary: you went to an Arctic Monkeys concert as a distraction to your recent breakup, but ended up having an unexpected connection with Alex.

TW: breakups

3,6k words

Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I had just broken up with the man I thought was the love of my life. Nothing made sense anymore: the sky was permanently gray, the grass was dead beneath my feet, and the chirping of birds had become a melancholic tune. Life had lost its vibrancy, leaving behind a hollow emptiness.

We had been together for six years. To my twenty-four-year-old self, it felt like an eternity. But then, it all came crashing down. The signs were there, lingering in the shadows. Silently warning us of the inescapable end, but neither of us wanted to face the turmoil of ending a relationship that had lasted for so long.

However, as days turned into nights, we found ourselves tangled in neverending arguments. Even when we were together, I felt alone. The solitude became impossible to deal with, and we couldn't bear the weight of our shared life any longer. Honestly, I still struggle to pinpoint the moment where it all went wrong.

Despite everything, a part of me still cares for him. Perhaps that's why I made the difficult decision to sever our ties. I couldn't stand to hurt him any more than I was already doing by simply existing by his side. Each fight pushed him further away, and the thought of his fading presence tormented me.

Eventually, I reached my breaking point. Something had to change. So, with a heavy heart, I decided to officially end what had long been over. In that final moment, as we parted ways, not a single tear fell from his eyes, and that realization cut me deep. I had hoped to see a glimpse of emotion, a reminder of what we once had. But it became clear that I had been mistaken, painfully wrong about his feelings. The truth hit me hard and shattered me into countless pieces.

I felt utterly lost. There was no other way to put it. Waking up each morning became a burden, and I found myself hoping to die in my sleep. The days lacked any meaning. My friends were concerned, and my family shared the bruises of my heartache. After all, he had become part of our lives during those six long years.

But then, on that fateful day, everything changed.

It was my final semester of college, the moment when I was supposed to embrace my dream of becoming a mechanical engineer, fueled by my passion for motorsports. But now, it all seemed foolish and pointless. Every ambition had lost its spark.

In one of my last classes, vehicle electronics and control systems, tears started to melt my notebook pages, forcing me to leave early. I sat on a bench outside the building, next to the parking lot, gaining the courage to return home and confront my feelings again. There weren't any more pictures of us in my room, but the memories of moments shared in it were still there.

That's when Lana, one of my closest friends and an audio engineering major, found me.

"That's it!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with frustration. "I can't take this any longer, YN! I know you're hurting, but you have to move on. You ended things a month ago, but you said it yourself: it's been over for nearly a year!"

"But Lana—" I tried to interject, but she cut me off, refusing to listen.

"I've got backstage passes to a festival I'll be working on next week, and you're coming with me. No excuses. I don't care if I have to drag you by your hair." Her determination startled me, but I knew she was right. "Come on, YN! Pretty please?" she pleaded, putting on that irresistible lost dog face that I could never say no to. She even added the praying hands this time. There was no way I could escape her demands.

"Okay," I relented, sniffing and wiping away the tears from my cheeks. She had a point. I couldn't bury myself in this hole any longer. It was time to start crawling out of it.

"Yay!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down with joy. "That band you love so much is playing on Saturday! The Arctic something, you know?" she said casually.

"I beg your pardon?" I shot up from my seat, disbelief washing over me. "The freaking Arctic Monkeys are going to be playing, and I have a backstage pass?" It felt too incredible to be true. There was no way in hell something like that would happen to me—the unluckiest person in the world.

"Yup, that's the one. So you're going!?" she said happily.

"Of course I am. I had bought tickets to it long ago, but with everything that happened, I guess I kinda forgot about..."

"Hey, hey, stop it!" She cut me off once again. "You're not allowed to say his name or even think about him!" she protested. "I'll be working, though, but maybe that's a good thing. You could try to find some other monkey stan to hook up with!" she said with a mischievous smile.

Lana is unbelievably straightforward. But I think that's why I love her. My silly little girl. My best friend.

I chuckled at her suggestion, shaking my head in both amusement and disbelief. "You never fail to surprise me, Lana. Finding another 'monkey stan' " I scoffed "I just want to enjoy the music and forget about everything else. No more falling in love."

Lana nodded, her expression softening. "I get it, YN. This is your chance to have a great time." It was a statement, and I knew that she would make sure of that.

Her words resonated with me. Maybe this concert was exactly what I needed—an opportunity to let go of the past and rediscover my own happiness. I smiled at my friend, grateful for her support.

"Thank you, Lana. For being here. I appreciate you more than you know."

She grinned back at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I know, I know! I love you too, YN. Also, that's what friends are for".

With newfound determination and insane anticipation, we made plans for the festival. Lana shared more details about it and the lineup of incredible artists that would grace the stage on that weekend. But the thought of seeing the Arctic Monkeys perform live is what filled me with a mix of nervous excitement and sheer bliss.

Finally, the day of the concert had arrived, and I couldn't contain my excitement. I slipped into my favorite band t-shirt, a quirky image of the members dressed as clowns and the words "who the fuck's Arctic Monkeys?" boldly printed across it. With the backstage pass hanging proudly around my neck, I could feel the anticipation building up inside me.

Lana, being the amazing friend she was, had made sure everything was perfectly arranged for us. As we ventured backstage, the air buzzed with an electric energy that sent shivers down my spine. From my privileged viewpoint, I could see the massive crowd and the whole stage, just waiting for the Monkeys to take their places.

"Hey, listen," Lana said, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and responsibility. "I have to go work now, but you stay here and have the time of your life, okay? Text me if you need anything or decide to explore elsewhere. I love you!" She planted a kiss on my head before disappearing into the backstage area.

Not long after she left, the stage lights illuminated the massive venue, and the band made their entrance from the opposite side I was at. The opening chords of the first song reverberated through the speakers, igniting a surge of excitement and cheers from the crowd. I surrendered myself to the music, letting it embrace me completely, like a warm blanket. The world around me faded away, leaving only the hypnotizing rhythm and the lyrics that resonated with my soul.

With tears streaming down my face, I allowed the familiar melodies to stir deep emotions within me. Each song evoked a different feeling, and I embraced every single one. I couldn't help but dance like there was no tomorrow, losing myself in the moment. The euphoria overwhelmed me, and it felt like I was floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

As the concert progressed, around the third song or so, I caught a glimpse of Alex looking in my general direction. My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly dismissed it as a mere coincidence. He was probably just checking out his surroundings or searching for someone from the production team. I decided to step to the side, not wanting to obstruct his view, and to my surprise his head turned with me as I moved over.

Our eyes briefly locked, and in that split second, I could feel my whole face burning up. Was he actually looking at me? It felt like a fever dream, the kind you never expect to come true. It was probably the effect of one too many unlimited drinks I had enjoyed, courtesy of my backstage access.

Whether it was a genuine look or a result of my tipsy imagination, I couldn't help but revel in the moment. The music enveloped me, drowning out any doubts or rational thoughts. I surrendered myself to the rhythm, dancing like an old lady, feeling the pure bliss of being swept away by the insane energy of the concert.

The combination of the music, the crowd's energy, and the enchanting presence of Alex on stage created an atmosphere that was nothing short of magical.

'Arabella' was the sixth song played that night, and I'll never forget it. As soon as I heard that familiar guitar at the beginning of the song, I could feel the excitement running through my veins. It is one of my all-time favorite songs, a track that holds a special place in my heart. I can't quite put into words what it makes me feel, but it is a mix of exhilaration, warmth, and an indescribable amazing sensation.

My legs turned to jelly, and I found myself leaning against a nearby wall for support as I watched in awe. The combination of Cookie's amazing guitar riffs, Matt's powerful drumming skills, and Nick's pulsating bass lines drove the crowd into a frenzy. The energy was palpable, radiating through every beat and note.

My attention was drawn to Matt and his extraordinary talent behind the drum kit. His precision and sheer passion were a sight to behold. As I focused on him, completely immersed in the music, that indescribable feeling of watching my favorite band perform live washed over me one more time.

And then, it happened again. When I shifted my gaze towards Alex, I found him looking straight at me. Our eyes locked in for the second time that night, making my cheeks flush. I was grateful for the dim lighting that hid my embarrassment.

As he sang, a smile formed on his lips, almost like he knew what he was doing: singing my favorite song and looking straight into my eyes. I felt like he was singing it just for me. It was a crazy moment, and it made me down the rest of my beer in one gulp. I swear he let out a soft chuckle, away from the microphone.

As the last verse sounded through the air, I knew I had to sing along with the crowd, my voice merging with the chorus. "That's magic! On a cheetah print coat!" The lyrics echoed around me, lighting up my face with a huge smile while the tear roamed free.

As the concert continued, there were a few more instances when my and Alex's eyes met, a fleeting connection in the midst of the electrifying atmosphere. But I brushed it off, convincing myself that it was just part of his stage presence, a way to engage with the audience.

But, as the final notes of the last song gradually faded into the air, signaling the end of an unforgettable night, I figured that Alex would follow his bandmates, disappearing into the same entrance he came from. To my surprise, he broke away from the rest of the guys, walking towards the side of the stage I was at.

His steps were purposeful and determined, making my heart race as he approached. The gap between us was closing quickly, and I tried to steady my trembling hands and calm my racing thoughts.

A rush of excitement and disbelief flooded me as he stood before me, and I was hit by the combination of wood, whisky, and tobacco scent that he emanated, leaving me momentarily speechless. His eyes sparkled with exhaustion and genuine appreciation.

"You sure look like you had a great time, love," he said with a husky voice, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't help but let the butterflies fly around my stomach by the way he casually referred to me as 'love,' that charming British accent adding an extra layer of charm to his character.

I mustered a shy smile. His presence was magnetic and the whirlwind of emotions inside me made it difficult to speak.

His gaze traveled up and down my figure, a playful glimmer danced in Alex's eyes as he glanced at my t-shirt. "Your choice of attire is quite captivating," he said, letting out a laugh that made my cheeks flush. "Join me for a beer, will ya?" he asked, his tone more of a confident statement than a mere question, gesturing for me to follow him deeper into the backstage area.

"Al, mate, come join us!" Matt's voice carried excitement for the post-show celebration. "We're going out for-"

"Not tonight, man," Alex responded without even glancing in Matt's direction, his eyes fixed on mine, unyielding. "I think I'll just head back to the hotel. Thanks, though."

I stood there, stunned, as Alex brushed off his friend's invitation without a second thought, leaving me wondering if he had a different plan in mind. Matt shrugged and joined the rest of the band, while I remained rooted to the spot, my mind swirling.

"Well, it looks like I have some free time," Alex's eyes held a glimmer of curiosity and a hint of a smile danced on his lips. "How about we grab that beer we were talking 'bout?"

Excitement coursed through my body, and I nodded eagerly, unable to contain my smile. "Sounds great," I replied, my voice filled with faked confidence. "Lead the way."

As Alex led me through the backstage area, we entered a private room tucked away from the bustling crowd. The moment the door closed behind us, the noise dissipated, leaving behind a sense of tranquility. The room was dimly lit, adorned with vintage music posters and instruments that had an aura of creative energy.

Alex approached a small cooler, grabbing a couple of cold beers, and handing one to me. "Here you go," he said with a charming smile. "Make yourself at home, darlin'. I'm just gonna change real quick,"

"Thank you," I replied, accepting the beer gratefully. My heart raced, the British mannerisms swiping me off my feet again. I watched him disappear into the bathroom, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As Alex left, I took a moment to take in the room. The instruments scattered across the space caught my attention, particularly the grand piano sitting in the corner. My fingers itched with the desire to touch the keys. It had been ages since I last played one.

Leaving my beer on a nearby table, I made my way to the piano bench. Sitting down with my back turned to the bathroom door, I ran my fingers gently over the smooth ivory keys, and began to play a familiar tune, allowing the notes to flow from my fingertips.

The sound filled the room, a gentle melody that mirrored my emotions. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the music, letting it carry me away from the moment. When I was younger, I used to say that the piano was my voice, expressing the emotions that my words couldn't capture.

The sound of footsteps made me snap back into reality. I swiftly rose from the bench, ready to apologize for my impromptu performance, but before any words could escape my lips, Alex interjected.

"Please, don't" Alex said, his voice laced with a hint of awe. He stood at a distance, his eyes fixed on me and his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. "That was beautiful. You have a gift."

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice betraying any attempt at sounding nonchalant. "It's been a while since I've played."

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with playful charm. "Well, consider me a lucky man then."

A genuine smile spread across my face as I admired Alex's transformed appearance. He had tidied up his hair and changed into a sleek white collar dress shirt that accentuated his abs. His leather jacket added a touch of rebellious charm, and he was wearing that illegally sexy scarf of his.

"You look like a brand new person." I remarked, walking past him to retrieve my beer can.

He smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "A change of clothes and a splash of cologne can work wonders, wouldn't you agree?" he replied, his voice dripping with playful modesty.

I smiled at him once again, feeling a sense of ease settling between us. Taking a sip from my beer can, I realized I hadn't properly introduced myself. "I'm YN, by the way," I said, trying to keep the conversation casual.

"It's a pleasure, YN. I'm Alex," he replied warmly, his voice inviting. I couldn't help but chuckle quietly, knowing exactly who the musical genius before me was.

"The pleasure is all mine," I responded, lifting my can in a toast. The clinking sound filled the air.

His gaze shifted towards the vinyl player nestled in the corner of the room, catching his attention. He walked over to it, selected a disc and delicately placed it on the turntable. The soft crackle of the needle meeting the vinyl filled the air, as the melodic tunes gracefully unfolded.

Returning his focus to me, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, a genuine interest shining through. "So, YN, what brings you here tonight?" he inquired, his voice carrying a gentle warmth.

I couldn't help but laugh at his question. "Aside from your amazing songs?" I replied playfully, my gaze meeting his. "Well, my friend is working backstage, and she managed to get me a ticket. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you perform live."

He nodded, a hint of appreciation in his eyes, and then he extended his hand towards me, gently taking hold of my beer can and setting it aside.

"Will you dance with me, YN?" he asked, his voice turning my thoughts into a blissful haze, as my name rolled off his tongue.

My heart skipped a beat, and I eagerly placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I'd be delighted," I replied, my voice had a hint of nervousness to it. "I must warn you, though, I'm not the best dancer."

He simply smiled, his touch steady yet gentle, as his other hand found its place on my waist, effortlessly guiding me across the dance floor. We moved in harmony, a mixture of playful twirls and gentle sways, surrendering ourselves to the embrace of the music.

The song came to an end, and as if on cue, Alex pulled me even closer, making me look at him. The room buzzed with energy. His hand, which had been resting on my waist, moved to the back of my head, gently tangling in my hair, sending a thrilling shiver down my spine.

My lips parted with a soft sigh, surrendering to the gentle tug he made on my hair. The reaction prompted Alex, as he leaned in, allowing our lips to touch in a delicate kiss.

His lips were soft and insistent, exploring every inch of my mouth. It felt like he was perfect.

The room was filled with the gentle white noise of the needle scratching the record, creating a soothing ambiance. But then my phone started buzzing in the background. We initially ignored it, lost in our passionate exchange, but after it rang three times, Alex broke the kiss.

"Maybe you should answer that, doll," he whispered, his fingers caressing my hair as he brought me back to reality.

"Hey, Lan," I said softly, my gaze locked into his dark brown eyes. He stared right back at me.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Lana's voice boomed through the phone, making me hold it away from my ear.

Alex burst into laughter, seemingly amused by the situation.

"I'm sorry, Lana. I got carried away," I explained.

"Oh, come on! Who's with you? I heard laughter," Lana teased, her voice adopting a playful tone. "Did you meet someone?"

"Oh, she definitely met someone," Alex interjected, his distinct accent making his words stand out.

"Is that-" Lana started to ask, but her question remained unfinished. It was an overwhelming experience for me.

"May I?" Alex asked, reaching for my phone, and I nodded.

"She's alright, Lana. She'll be with you shortly," he assured her before ending the call.

"One for the road?" he whispered, his fingers gently tracing my swollen lips.

I chuckled in response, and he leaned in, our lips meeting once again in a passionate embrace.

"Can I have your number?" he asked, his forehead resting against mine.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This has been rotting in my drafts since May, I truly didn't know how to end it so I just left an open ending I guess.

I also experimented writing in first person, which I don't intend on doing anymore tbh but let me know if you liked it anyways.

I've been asked a couple times to tag people, so lmk if you'd like to be tagged on my next fic.

As always, love youuu 💕💕💕

~ Bella

194 notes · View notes

commander-rahrah · 5 months

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part V

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6200 Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, slight family angst aka daddy issues? I'm terrible at these

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here

Summary: Set at the end of Act II, after Moonrise Towers and Kethric. Reader/Tav leans on Astarion and reveals more about their family and their story from before the Nautiloid.

Notes: I've emerged from my cave I made on the couch in my basement and finally finished this update! I got bronchitis a week or so ago and it kicked my booty, but I'm finally feeling better!! YAY! I have no voice still, but good thing I don't need that to write fanfiction!

So this update reveals more of our Selune blessed Tav's backstory that is based off my original D&D character. I was really hung up on whether or not I should include more backstory and lore for this GN!Tav/Reader, since it isn't very typical for a lot of the gn!reader fics I've read. But it was giving me such writers block if I did not include it, as I honestly have the rest of this fic completely planned out and the endgame I have for this pairing relies on more of this backstory, so I decided to include it! Also, its my fic… and my character sooo I hope you enjoy my baby and the little story I wrote for them five years ago. This character will have a special place in my heart forever, and I'm excited to share more of them with you all!

I also desperately wanted to include a scene of Astarion and Tav/Reader kissing for the first time since his confession and them setting boundaries about physical intimacy and contact. I know the game just lets you click the kiss option right away, but I like to think its something that Astarion would build himself up to again and would maybe even have to relearn — not kissing like it was a performance, but instead an expression.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me and every time I see a notification! It fills me with infinite joy ♡♡♡ I know there is lots of posts circulating about this and tags get filled with it, but reblogs and comments are so so appreciated!! :)

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He wasn’t sure how you did it. Astarion was exhausted, beyond that actually — shattered. His feet were stiff and aching, his mind fuzzy with weariness. Yet you were still smiling, accepting the gratitude of every single person at the Last Light Inn with humble nods and smiles. He’d never had a longer day in his life. The temple, the Shadowfell, Shadowheart, Moonrise Towers, the goddamn Absolute. Gale... Gods, you had talked down Gale from fulfilling the desire and demands of an actual goddess. All in one day. All he wanted to do was to fall into a bed with you, and sleep. To just pretend for one moment that there wasn’t any marching armies or impending vampire masters waiting in Baldur's Gate. To ignore the thrum of anxiety and fear that coursed through him as he remembered exactly what was carved into his back — what Raphael had finally revealed to him. Just for today, he had wanted to rest. But no — the end of this never ending day was to finish with a celebration. An annoying, lively celebration. The vampire was being stereotypical as ever — standing in a shadowy corner, moody and silent as he nursed a red glass. It was wine. Gale had found a decadent bottle, buried away and forgotten about on some dusty shelf. The wizard had made an eloquent toast to the group gathered on the bottom floor of the inn. But he was now standing with Wyll — the two of them conversing politely with a pair of obviously flirtatious tieflings. Karlach had her arm wrapped around Damon, the two of them chatting enthusiastically and laughing. Astarion was surprised to not see Shadowheart by Karlach — the two of them inseparable as of late. No, what was more shocking was that the dark-haired cleric was sat next to Lae’zel. Their mouths barely opening as they spoke to each other in low voices, buried under the noise of the celebration in the inn. He almost choked on the sip he had just taken as his red eyes finally returned to you — where several people were forming a makeshift line to speak with you. The next one more bashful than the last as they leaned in to speak with you, all flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes. You always had a certain charm about you, an innate ability to draw out easy smiles and laughs from others. You were also undeniably attractive — anyone who said otherwise would be a blind idiot. But other people being enraptured by you had never bothered him before. He had just silently agreed with them — that yes, you were indeed a prize like no other. But you were his now, weren’t you? As he was yours. Even without the label or words that he still couldn’t figure out how to say. That he was too afraid to say. Regardless, why were you entertaining these fools?

He'd not felt this before — was it jealousy? Gods, he was being like a petulant child who didn't want to share their toy. You were a person, you could make your own decisions. That was the entire point of all of this.

What was he going to do — follow you around like a lost puppy? Drape himself over you, clutch onto you like a coat so others would see he was with you?

You must have felt his red eyes piercing through you as you suddenly flicked your eyes over to meet his gaze. Your face instantly brightened, a smile tugging on your lips. An overwhelming sense of relief went through him as you waved apologetically to the small group in front of you, before weaving your way over to his dark corner.

"Yes, darling?" He drawled as you approached, trying to hide any emotion betraying on his face as he tipped his wine glass in front of it and took another sip.

"Why are you hiding away in this corner? Not feeling like being paraded around like a hero?" You said sarcastically.

Astarion rolled his eyes at you, replying dryly, "I am many things, but a hero, I am not."

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice until it was just a whisper. "I would beg to differ. But you have a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

He barked out a laugh, before flicking you in the nose gently. "You cheeky pup."

"Ow." You feigned, scrunching your face up at him. "That hurt."

A wave of courage swept through him as he pushed back the little voice in his head. He leaned forward and pecked his lips onto the tip of your nose. He hoped the tingle that spread across his lips as they met your skin would spread to you. It seemed it did as your skin then flashed a delicious, brilliant shade from surprise. A tiny squeak even escaped you, your eyebrows shooting up.

You had not kissed, not since his confession. Not since all of this had started. Not a brush of lips against hands or cheeks, nothing. The look on your face and the sudden increase in the thrum of your heart had him feeling light headed. Did he truly have such an effect on you?

For a moment, he let his gaze from you lapse as he swept his eyes across the inn. To the disappointed glances of a few partygoers, and the knowing looks of his companions, watching the pair of you interact.

A flash of gratification went through him, satisfied at the effect he had not just on you but at those who had eyed you before. It squashed the jealously that had made a pit in his stomach, instead twisting it with a new, slowly recognizable feeling.

"There, all better?" He smirked.

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding at him.

Astarion rubbed his lips together, the tingling sensation on them lingering still. "How much longer does the Hero of the Shadowlands need to stay down here?"

You looked over your shoulder to the gathered patrons, the crowd thinning out more and more as the evening faded into a dark, late night. "Bored already?"

He let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders droop. "Exhausted, darling. And I know you are too."

You were always a sight to see, holding a beauty he could have never imagined or conjured up in his head. But he could see the purple circles under your eyes, the usual sparkle in them had long gone dull.

Your eyes flickered to your boots, nodding your head in defeat. "You're right."

"I believe they have set some rooms aside for us, if you wish—"

"Do you?" You caught him off, trying to hide your own eagerness.

His gaze softened, a smile tugging on his lips, "Very much so."

The pair of you bid goodnight to your companions quietly, subtle nods and waves as they continued their own conversations or headed to their own rooms. Astarion walked slightly behind you on the stairs, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you led the way. The path you took was familiar, the worn floor boards creaking before you were outside the private room the two of you had occupied once before.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door softly behind him, the sounds from the lingering party below muffled and leaving you in a peaceful quiet. But as he found reprieve in finally being alone, you suddenly crumbled.

You dived for the bed, a heartbreaking sob escaping you as your hands covered your face.

Your name choked out him before he crossed the room quickly and joined you on the edge of the mattress. Gods, what was it about this Inn and room that had you breaking apart on it? "Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etching every feature.

"I- I, didn't-"

He remembered your words earlier today — gods, was that today? How comforting his touch was for you, being reminded of his presence. He placed his hand carefully on your own that was trembling on your thigh as you tried to speak.

You finally gasped out, "She wasn't there, she wasn't-"

Mol. The little tiefling girl. You had promised those rascal children downstairs you'd find her. And it was you who had told them she wasn't in Moonrise tonight, swallowing deeply as they dipped their heads with disappointment. But you had told them not to give up hope, that she was resourceful and strong. You had sounded so convincing that even he had believed you.

But here you were, sobbing and breaking apart in front of him. "Oh, sweetheart. Gods, I should have seen this, I'm sorry."

You sniffled, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shining with understanding, "I know you better by now. It was a mask you were wearing tonight...," He tucked a stray hair back behind your ear. "I hate it when you wear it."

"I just wanted everyone to be okay, I tried so hard..." Your voice cracked and broke.

"You've done so much, darling. Look at what we did today, that was because of you."

You always took care of everyone else. But who took care of you? Astarion thought, perhaps... him. He could… he would.

He had been.

"Oh my little moon, you don't have to carry the world by yourself, you know?"

You sniffled and nodded, silver still lining the bottoms of your eyes.

"May I?" He echoed the question you so often asked of him. You'd never touched him without asking the question first. Your consent you'd granted him was a separate conversation, one where you had told him casual, simple touches were okay. A silent conversation and agreement sometimes was exchanged with a look of your eyes. But with him, you had always asked. He thought that now he would return that favor to you, as you opened yourself to him — vulnerable and upset once again on the edge of this mattress.

He hoped you appreciated the sentiment, as much as he did.

The vampire reached down, hovering his hands over your boots. Your brows furrowed slightly before you were nodding. Your eyes never left his pale fingers as he untied the laces of your boots, gently prying them off before setting them down neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to his own before he slid his way up the bed, leaning against the headboard before patting the spot next to him.

"Come here."

You hesitated, before beginning to scooch over to him. When he opened his arms as a silent invitation you hesitated again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please come here." He nodded solemnly.

Astarion willed himself to keep steady and clear, drawing a breath he truly did not need. He enveloped you in his arms as you laid next to him, trying to stop his limbs for stiffening. It was all so foreign, it was terrifying.

But your familiar scent filled his nose, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat with your chest pressed to his side. His fingers laxed as you settled into him, bunching into the material of your shirt. Your breaths started calming and eyes fluttering as you laid with him.

"Is this okay?" You whispered — uncertainty laced every word.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing." He said softly, before swallowing thickly. "I don't know what I'm doing." You started to remove your limbs his, but he tightened his hold on you. "Don't, please."

"Astarion if you aren't comfortable—"

"I am, it's not that." He rubbed the soft material of your shirt between his fingers as he spoke, "I want so badly to be this for you, to be what you need. But I don't know how."

You craned your neck up to look at him, "I think you're doing a good job of it."

He looked down at you through his long lashes, "Truly?"

"Yes, Astarion." You sounded genuine, "No one... no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

He let out a sigh of contentment, settling in deeper with you before resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know we have so much left to do... But laying here with you. It makes it worth it."

"Are you scared?" You asked in a whisper.

"Terrified, actually." He admitted.

Your thumb rubbed across his stomach in smooth lines back and forth, "I will be with you every step of the way."

"That's part of what makes it all so terrifying." The vampire whispered, "Sometimes, I know that I couldn't do any of this without you by my side. But other times... when Ketheric turned into that thing, that abomination, with you looking so small in front of him..."

"I know."

Astarion moved his head so he could look at your face, "You were right though."

"Hmmm?" You hummed.

"This is nice. Gods, when did I get so soft?" He chuckled, the movement of his chest vibrating your head until you joined him.

Both of your faces were etched with bliss and contentment as you laid in the bed. On this bed where before he had laid awake, willing himself to fall into a trance, convincing himself to keep his distance from you, trying to protect himself from the inevitably of you.

Now, you both fell asleep like that, still in your regular attire, wrapped in each other's arms with your head buried on his chest.

The stars caressing their moon.

• • •

The journey towards Baldur's Gate was turbulent and nerve-wracking while also... hopeful.

The group was buzzing with energy — the anticipation of returning to Baldur's Gate had made some of your companions restless in more ways then one.

You were all sat for a short rest, relaxing in a patch of long, green grass just off of the dirt road you were traveling on. It was just your group now, the other parties and groups had begun moving at different paces and times until it was just your familiar companions now.

Astarion was laid out in the grass, his head resting on your lap and your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his soft, white tresses. His eyes were closed, basking in the glow of the sun that was set high in the sky at this time of day. Occasionally the shadows on his face would bounce as his long lashes flickered, opening his eyes to glance at you with a dreamy expression on his face.

It made your movements stutter each time you noticed it. But the grip he had on your heart — that was steady and true. He had possessed you in a way you still could not articulate, even all these weeks later.

But you blinked back to reality as Gale's voice broke the silence. "You're a beautiful couple."

You looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face from being noticed. Astarion craned his neck, his red eyes rolling back to look at the wizard before settling back into your lap with a disinterested look crossing his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry... I'm made things awkward, haven't I?" Gale mumbled, his hands twirling with the blades of grass in front of him.

You couldn't help the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at the attention. Especially as you realized the rest of your companions were looking over with small smirks.

Gale continued as you remained silent, "I just meant that... Well, its nice to see my friends so happy. That's all."

"Thank you, Gale." Astarion drawled, readjusting himself so he laid deeper on your lap.

The wizard blinked in surprise, "You're welcome. Are you — is it a secret, or?"

"Not a secret, no." The vampire purred with a shake of his head.

"We are just taking our time." You finished, a soft smile growing on your face to match the one spreading across Astarion's.

"Hmm, that's nice." Gale trailed off, a wistful expression on his face.

Before the silence could really settle in again, the rest of the party started a conversation up.

"Won't be long now until we get to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said, his face hard to read.

"Are you nervous?" Karlach stretched her long leg, nudging him in the ankle playfully.

His mouth scrunched and nose crinkled, "I... I don't know how to feel."

"I can't fucking wait! I'll be able to show you guys my old stomping grounds!" The barbarian said excitedly, falling back dramatically into the grass with her limbs spread wide. She addressed you, shouting up to the blue sky, "What about you, Giggles? Excited to see home again?"

"Oh," Your fingers froze, hovering over Astarion's hair. "I had only lived in the city for just under a year. Home will always be in the north."

"The north? I don't think I've heard you speak of your home much." Shadowheart asked quietly, a quizzical look on her face.

"I, yes— near the Ice Spires." Your mouth twitched.

"You hail from a noble line, yes?" Gale asked. Everyone was eyeing you with curiosity, even Astarion still stretched out on your lap. His red eyes shifting slightly as he studied you.

You swallowed, painting on a polite smile before speaking, "My father is a Viscount. He is a formidable figure in the region."

"Ah." The warlock grimaced, his eyes sad. "Why do I get the feeling our stories are more similar than I realize?"

You bristled. "I'm not exiled or anything... It's just been some time. That's all."

"That's all?"

A humorless laugh escaped you, "I am a second born child. And my older brother is much more obedient and better suited to the game of politics than I am." You couldn't help the sad, bitter smile that spread across your face. The thought of home stung in more ways then one.

Astarion noticed how tense you had become, his hand squeezing your knee as he pushed himself up with a dramatic huff. "We are never going to get to the city if we sit here lounging all day."

You shot him a grateful look, and he gave you the slightest nod in recognition as he offered his hand to lift you up. He did so easily, brushing off blades of grass lingering on you both gently.

"You were the one complaining not long ago about how long we had been walking for!" Gale said, sounding completely exasperated as Wyll helped him up.

"Me? I said that? I don't think so." The rogue playfully scoffed, shaking his head so his soft curls bounced dramatically. He looked over his shoulder at you with a conspiratorial smile before stretching his hand out for you. His fingers intertwined with yours easily as he pulled you along the dirt path, away from the questioning and burning curiosity of the rest of the party.

• • •

Your group finally settled down for the night — picking a small clearing just off of the well-worn, dirt path you had been traveling down. Perhaps the last time you would be sleeping in the wilderness. You would be at Wyrm's Crossing by midafternoon tomorrow.

Astarion had set up your tent on the edge of camp, attempting to give you both some sense of privacy from your busybody companions. He knew they meant well, that they hadn't meant for this afternoon to turn into an interrogation. That, like him, they were just curious to know more about you. As kind and good you were to all of them, you were still somewhat of a mystery. You had revealed the origins of your powers to the group yes, but you rarely spoke about yourself or your home.

Not even to him.

The vampire had been content to let it lie. He knew it would come with time — and he certainly couldn't make any demands of you. Not after how gracious and patient you had been with him. But he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to know more. Astarion had somehow become an open book with you — revealing and exploring parts of himself that he had buried down so deep that he was surprised he could find them.

He worried that it all had been about him for so long. His trauma, his past, his goals. That maybe you had kept parts of yourself hidden away, on the back burner for him.

You had your back turned to him at the moment, the golden flickering of the candles in the tent illuminating the curve of your spine and freckles across your bare skin. Your muscles stretched and tensed beautifully as you lifted your arms over your head —pulling your nightclothes over yourself as you changed in the corner. It was a boundary that was set much earlier, that he had slowly started making less and less strict.

He wasn't ready for anything more yet — he knew that. But his red eyes couldn't help but roam your figure. He couldn't help the familiar sensation of want twisting low in his stomach, the twitch of his fingers at his side as he imagined running his fingertips over your soft skin again.

The smile you gave him as you turned around was dazzling, even in the dim light and tight space of the shared tent. You joined him cross-legged in the center of the tent, both of you not quite ready to go to sleep just yet.

He picked at his nail for a moment, trying to seem nonchalant as he opened his pink mouth to speak. "So... the Ice Spires?"

You raised a single eyebrow, a hard to read look crossing the rest of your features. "Yes?"

His fingers continued to fidget in front of him. "It's cold... all the time?"

"Not all the time. Our winters can be brutal though." You said with a scrunched nose.

"Oh, what a lovely sell. I can't wait to go now!" He said sarcastically.

"Ha." You laughed dryly, before your voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful honestly... I miss it."

The vampire studied your face as you undoubtedly saw visions of your home in your mind's eye. The edges of his lips curved up as he remembered your promise to take him there one day. He broke you out of your daydream with a quiet cough before he spoke again, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But why did you leave there, darling?"

Your eyes flashed to the floor of the tent, your mouth forming a hardline. "Promise me you won't be upset?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

His eyebrows furrowed together at your reaction. He took two fingers, dipping them under your chin so you would look up at him. "Why would I be upset? You leaving home for whatever reason is why you are here now. With me."

Your eyes softened with his answer, before you nodded. Yet you still licked your lips nervously before speaking, "Well... you know that Selûne told my mother I would be destined for a different path then the life of nobility. My mother agreed to it all those years ago, both my parents knew and yet... they still hoped they could reel it all back in. That enough etiquette and language lessons would shape me into the perfect child they hoped I would be. But it was never me. I tried for them, I really did. Instead I started to fantasize about the people in our history lessons like they were characters in a book, and I spoke too loud and laughed at the wrong moment at dinner."

Astarion couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he imagined you as a child — your face round and soft with innocence, your brilliant smile with missing teeth. The havoc that you would have caused, racing down wealthy halls as you acted out scenes from your books and danced in an empty ballroom with your melodic laugh echoing in the space. A piece of himself he had long forgotten about twinged inside him. He couldn't remember his own childhood anymore — it was lost to the last two hundred years of darkness. But something warmed in him as he dreamed up what yours was like.

He snapped back to reality as you spoke again. "But I had a duty. I'm the second born, I wasn't being primed to one day take over for our father and run the keep, but I could be used in other ways. I've known of it since I was twelve."

His white brows furrowed again, "Known what?"

"When I became of age I would be married off to secure wealth and political ties with other territories. I'm engaged... technically." You admitted.

His eyes dropped immediately to your fingers, the several jewels that adorned them from the moment he met you. He had never thought anything of them — thinking they were an artful display of rings that matched your personality and appearance well. But there it was — a golden ring of much higher quality then the rest, with a large ruby sitting in the center of it. Gods, how had he missed that.

"Oh my gods. I'm a homewrecker." Then he burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his hands holding his stomach as he howled.

"Astarion, you'll wake up half the camp!" You leaned forward and hissed.

"I'm sorry, I just —" He let out between gasps of breath, "It's so funny. Of course the person I fall for is to be wed to someone else."

You joined his chuckles, shaking your head. "It is like a cliché plotline from some terrible drama."

"It is! Or like a punchline to some joke. Did you hear the one about the vampire and the fiancé?" You both laughed for a moment, before he clutched onto your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"So you aren't upset?" Your voice a whisper again, uncertainty flooded every word.

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?"

You huffed out an exasperated breath, "Astarion, I just told you I am betrothed to another person."

"And you are on the other side of the continent from them. Not married. And sitting in my tent. Is this why you left?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Yes, we planned it all out actually— my betrothed and I."

"Really?"

You nodded, "They had also spent the last years troubling over it, attempting to delay it for as long as possible."

"I'm assuming getting kidnapped by mind flayers was not apart of that plan?" He said with a smirk.

"Definitely not. I so badly wanted to travel, to see the world outside of our keep I'd known my whole life. So... they insisted to my family that they needed a spouse that was learned and well-traveled. That I could enroll in a college to become a more suitable match."

Astarion raised a white brow, "And that worked?"

"It did. I think my father was so desperate for it all to work out that they just agreed."

"And how did you attending a college lead you to Baldur's Gate so many miles away from home?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "I will say that I did go to the college like I intended. I lasted a week. Just long enough to purchase supplies and stationary from the college before paying for a spot on the next wagon out of Silverymoon."

"Stationary?"

"I've been sending letters home for the past year, using stationary from the college so my family believes I'm still there studying and being a model citizen."

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his lips. "I'm impressed. That's very conniving... I didn't know you had it in you."

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'll admit it was a clever idea. I ran out of supplies about a month before the Nautiloid."

He pursed his lips as he finally understood, "They haven't heard from you since then?"

You shook your head, "No. I imagine my father has sent some of his men to check on me, and they have long discovered that I took back my tuition deposit and left months and months ago."

"This whole time we were worried about a vampire master storming our camp, when really it could have been a disgruntled father or worried mother finding us?"

A large exhale left your nose as you shook your head, "Oh, my father would never come himself. He would just send his second-best men and a strongly worded letter ordering me back home. My mother though... I can only imagine how she betrayed and worried she feels."

The vampire squeezed your hand again before running his thumb along the backs of your knuckles. "Why did you never tell me this?"

"Astarion, the hardship and abuse that you went through...," Your eyes shined with pain, "My story is nothing compared to yours."

"Your story is not nothing." He shook his head, his voice earnest. "Your story is you — and you are everything. Never spare parts of yourself from me."

"Even the messy parts that years of etiquette lessons couldn't train away?"

He let out a breathy laugh before smiling at you, "Especially those parts, my lovely moon."

"You have gone soft on me, Starry." You teased before matching his smile.

• • •

After another day of travel, you stood in the abandoned castle in Wyrm's Crossing, bracing yourself on the stone wall. The skyline of Baldur's Gate could be seen from here, the distant sound of the bell's ringing heard even from here.

Your party had finally made it — after all of these weeks. You would walk the familiar cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. The familiar scents and sounds of vendors and citizens, the bustle and crowds would be so different from the wilderness and forests you had been traveling through.

The group's energy was buzzing as you settled for camp in the abandoned castle — a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Astarion hadn't hidden his feelings with you — his anxieties and insecurities surfacing with every step closer and closer to the city limits. With every step closer to Cazador and his ritual. Hundreds of different ideas were bouncing around his head, you could tell.

Yet your confession to him last night was still replaying in your head, especially as your stared at the ring on your left finger — the red gem catching the light. You weren't sure why you wore it anymore. A habit, you guessed.

The sound of purposeful, shuffling feet announced that you were no longer alone. Craning your neck you looked over to see the man who normally consumed your thoughts, climbing the stone steps that led up to the falling apart battlements you stood on.

"What are you doing up here, darling?"

"Just taking a moment." You admitted as you loosed a heavy breath. "And you?"

"Oh, just over pretending to be interested the idle chat by the fire." Astarion waved his hand, before sliding in next to you. He braced his elbows onto the edge looking out over to the skyline. You watched him take a deep steadying breath, his eyebrow crinkled with worry for a moment.

You fiddled unconsciously with the golden ring on your left hand as you watched him. The movement caught the vampire's attention, his red eyes snapping to it before looking up at you. He chewed the inside of his lip, before speaking, "Can I ask you a question?"

Your stomach tightened with sudden nerves, "Of course."

"This wedding... Your arranged marriage."

"Hmm?" You hummed.

His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Would you have gone through with it? If there was no Nautiloid, no tadpole — none of this. Would you have gone through with the arrangement?"

A heavy sigh escaped you as you pushed your elbows off of the stone edge and stood up, "I would have... I would have tried. It felt inevitable before — inescapable."

He shifted around, so he was facing you — standing to his full height and looking you in the eyes. "And now?" He whispered, his long fingers reaching to brush the insides of your wrist lightly.

"Astarion... I never could have imagined any of this. I spent my whole life fantasizing and daydreaming of an escape and grand adventure. Nothing I've dreamed up has ever come close to being with you. I have fought mind flayers and ogres, refused Gods and marched across the country so that we can keep going. So that we can have a chance. I will take my father's disappointment and wrath for ruining his plans for financial security."

"Heh — We can add him to the list of people we've angered along the way." He joked, but his eyes were glimmering with unspoken emotion after your declaration.

You studied the handsome man before you, your lips parting slightly as you took him in. He was radiant in the moonlight, his white hair and pale skin shining. The way his usually sharp eyes softened and rounded as he looked at you.

Gods, you loved him. You had known for sometime now that you did. The words had been crawling up your throat, lingering on your tongue and swirling in your mind for days. But you would be patient for him.

One side of his pink mouth turned up, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Your head cocked to the side, "Like what?"

"You..." He seemed like he was at a loss for words for a moment. He shook his head at himself, before he admitted in a whisper, "They way you look at me... you make me feel like I'm poetry."

"You are, Astarion." You said simply. Courage suddenly flooded through you. You knew you would be fine, no matter how he answered. You wouldn't dare rush him. But you wanted to ask tonight. "May I — May I kiss you?"

He blinked in surprise before his red eyes flicked down to your lips and he unconsciously licked his own. Then he locked eyes with you, nodding breathlessly. "Yes," He whispered back, his long lashes fluttering. "Yes."

Moving your hands up slowly and gently, your fingertips gripped the side of his strong jaw. You heard his breath sharpen as you moved your face to meet his — slowly, giving him time and space, allowing him to change his mind and pull away. But he didn't. Instead his eyes closed softly, his head tilting towards yours as he waited for you to kiss him. Then your lips locked as your mouth pressed softly against his, carefully as you waited to see if he would kiss you back. A low noise escaped you as you felt his lips press harder against yours, returning the kiss.

You had long thought of your first kiss with Astarion in the woods near the Druid's Grove all that time ago. You thought you had memorized the sweet taste of him on your lips, the scent of leather lingering from his armor and groans that made the hairs on your arms stand up.

But this — this was so different. Not practiced, not ritualistic like he so often said.

This new first kiss was so painfully soft and tender. He tasted like wine, rosemary and honey. His hair softer then you remembered as your finger toyed with the curled tips at the base of his neck. The happiest of sounds escaped him as he parted his lips for you, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your tongue slid across his teeth. You both stood like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling until you both felt dizzy. Your lips stuck together slightly as you pulled away. His forehead was pushed against yours, like he was no longer content to not be touching you.

Astarion's eyes were ablaze in the moonlight as he looked at you, his mouth falling open as he caught his breath. "Again. Kiss me, again.” “Starry?” You asked, your brow twitched. “Kiss me. Please. I miss it, I've missed you." One of his hands gripped the tip of your chin as you moved your mouth back towards him, halving the movement as he pulled you back in for another kiss. The other intertwining with yours in between you, squeezing your fingers gently.

His sharp teeth dug into your bottom lip, causing a shudder to run down your spin. "Slow down, my love." Your groaned out.

"I have — weeks of this — to catch up on." His voice was breathless and he continued to interrupt his own words as he pressed lips to yours over and over.

You pulled away, studying his face — the skin around his mouth pink from kissing, a slight flush crossing his complexion. But his eyes were fixed on you, filled with want and need. "I'm not going anywhere, Astarion. We have time."

"Good. " He beamed, resting his forehead on yours again as you both breathed each other in. The two of you silhouetted on the crumpling battlements as you held on to each other for a moment longer.

Read Part VI here

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion

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timotey · 3 months

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Ficlet: Behold the Gods

The Sign. Phaya/Tharn. Future fic. Unbeta'd.

Nee's big brother is an annoying, pigtail pulling idiot. And she misses him so much...

(Another what-if ficlet! I love imagining all the ways this could end! This time, a little more mythology...)

*.*.*

The Naga creature takes Tharn away and now Nee’s big brother is shattering to pieces.

Phaya’s always been an annoying, pigtail pulling idiot - but he’s also the bravest and strongest person Nee’s ever known. And now he’s down on his knees, unashamedly falling apart in front of all of them, sobbing so hard he can barely breathe.

Nee doesn’t know what to do! She just found out that all the legends were true, that there was actual magic and Nagas and Garudas in the world, that all that actually existed and that her big brother’s been smack in the middle of some crazy star-crossed love story of reincarnation and godly beings for several lifetimes now and it’s killing him, the loss of his lover is killing him and Nee just doesn’t know what to do, how to help!

And then, all of a sudden, there’s a golden streak and the sound of chiming bells, and between one blink and another, there's a woman standing in front of her brother, a beautiful woman in traditional attire, adorned with gold and precious stones.

“King Sakuna,” the woman greets Nee’s brother in a formal, respectful tone of voice.

Phaya looks up, eyes full of tears. “Wanwisa…” he whispers. “He took Tharn. Chalothon took Tharn.”

The woman, Wanwisa, nods. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I can take you to Wansarut,” she offers. “I can't help you fight Lord Chalothon. I can’t, he’s my lord and master and I can’t raise my hand against him, it’s forbidden. But I can take you to Wansarut… if you want.”

She reaches out and Nee’s big brother, her stupid and reckless and hot-headed - and sweet and kind and loving! - brother doesn’t even hesitate. He takes Wanwisa’s hand and they both disappear in a whirlwind of golden light.

“Phaya!” Nee screams.

It’s the last time she sees her brother.

***

It’s the 15th day of the 11th moon again and Nee is back in Nongkai once more.

It’s been an eventful year. Her grandma moved to Nongkai, she moved in with Tharn’s grandmother to wait and hope and pray for their grandsons return. They’ve been praying every day ever since Tharn and Phaya disappeared, trusting that one day, somehow, the two of them will come back to them.

Nee returned home and started school, a business school, intent on taking over her family’s business and helping her grandmother now that she is the only one left. The only one…

It hurts, this knowledge, and the pain never goes away. She’s always adored her brother but she’s never realized just how big a presence he was in her life until he disappeared.

His colleagues from the special unit searched for him, for Phaya and Tharn both. Nee and the others couldn’t have very well told the police that a Naga king took Tharn so they ended up altering their story a little, telling them that Doctor Chalothon took Tharn and Phaya went after them. No, they didn't know where they went. No, neither Phaya nor Tharn contacted them again. The cops didn’t find anything, of course, only that no Doctor Chalothon actually ever existed, it was just a fake identity the man set up to get close to Tharn.

They came up with their story with the help of Yai, Tharn’s best friend, and the only one in the know. Because his wife, Sand, was there when it happened. After Tharn and Phaya’s disappearance, Yai left the special unit and took the position of a superintendent at the police station in Nongkai to be close, just in case, while Sand started working for Tharn’s grandmother, taking over for her at the sawmill, both doing their best to take care of Tharn’s grandma in his stead.

And now the anniversary of Phaya and Tharn’s disappearance is upon them. A whole year has gone by but the void left behind in everyone’s lives is nowhere near closing, it still hurts so badly that oftentimes Nee can’t stop herself from crying.

The 15th day of the 11th moon, a Naga Worship Ceremony.

Fuck the Naga!

***

They set up the altar on the lower terrace in the back of Tharn’s grandmother’s house, just like the year before, but this time, there’s no statue of a Naga on the table. Nee doesn’t think they could stand to even look at it. Still, they burn incense and they bring offerings and they pray, they pray for their loved ones to come home.

And so they’re all there, Nee and her grandma and Tharn’s grandma and Yai and Sand, praying and holding hands and trying to comfort each other, when it happens. At twilight, they appear in a whirlwind of golden warm and fiery red magic, simply there all of a sudden, stealing everyone's breath away.

Phaya and Tharn, hand in hand.

They’re dressed in traditional attire, Phaya in red and white, adorned in silver and snow white feathers, Tharn in shades of green and gold. Their hair is longer and styled differently and their faces are made up, their skin is shimmering as if dusted with gold and they wear jewelry, bracelets and anklets, silver and gold set with precious stones. They look so unlike themselves from before but it’s them, it is them. And they’re alive and healthy and… there!

“Hello,” Tharn greets them a little timidly, a little uncertainly, as if unsure of their reaction, glancing up at Phaya who smiles down at him and nods, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

And then they’re hugging. All of them together and then passing Tharn and Phaya between them and the grandmas are crying and Yai is yelling and pounding his friends hard on the back and Sand is kissing their cheeks and Nee…

“I hate you,” Nee sobs into Phaya’s chest as he wraps his arms around her shoulders. “I hate you so much. How could you? How could you do this to us? To me? You’re the worst, the worst brother ever, and-and I h-hate you!" And she's hugging him and crying hard because he’s her big brother and she loves him dearly. So much!

And he’s whispering into her ear, head bent down to her, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I had no choice but I’m so sorry.”

They’re all so happy, so deliriously happy to be together again. It’s perfect and glorious…

Until it isn’t.

“We can’t stay,” Phaya says unexpectedly when Yai starts talking about calling the guys, already planning a big get-together.

And their little gathering falls silent, all the merriment from just a moment ago stolen again.

Phaya wraps his arm around Tharn’s shoulders and pulls him close against his side. He smiles down at Tharn and takes Tharn's hand in his, running his thumb across his knuckles gently. “We would love to but we really can’t,” Phaya says, looking each and every one of them in the eyes, one by one.

“But why?” their grandmother asks with heartbreaking despair.

This time it’s Tharn who replies and his voice is soft, his eyes full of regret. “There were... things we had to do to defeat Chalothon. We had to change ourselves, who we were, to match his powers. And those changes cannot be undone. Not anymore. The gate between the worlds opens only once a year. Once it closed, we were stuck. And now it's too late.”

He drops his eyes to his and Phaya’s clasped hands and squeezes a little harder. “We aren’t human anymore,” he explains and he sounds so sad that Phaya pulls him even closer and kisses the top of his head tenderly.

“What are you saying?” Yai asks, stepping forward.

Rubbing Tharn’s upper arm in comfort, Phaya says, “We had to go back to what we used to be, before, at the beginning. Back to being Sakuna and Wansarut to defeat Chalothon, to gain our powers back, even though it meant losing our humanity. It was either that or die. But it means we can’t stay here, in the human world, or we will end up like Chalothon, becoming a warped versions of ourselves.”

Tharn looks up at them again. “This isn’t our world anymore,” he says, his voice apologetic.

“So... what? You just came to visit? You just dropped by to say hello and now you’re going again?” Yai asks, sounding angry.

But Nee knows that Yai isn’t angry, not really. He’s just sad, heartbroken. Because she feels the same way. It hurts and if she opened her mouth now, her words would come out just as cross, just as belligerent. It would be that or start crying.

Phaya gives him a sad smile. “Basically, yes. The gate between the worlds opens only once a year, on this day, and it stays open from sunset to sunrise. Then it closes again. Only on this day, every year, can we come back to you, for a little while.”

“If you will have us…” Tharn adds softly, hopefully.

They’re all quiet for a little while, letting sink in what they just heard, trying to overcome their shock, their hurt, their disappointment. Their heartbreak at losing what they only just thought they got back again.

Then Yai steps forward and pulls Tharn into his arms, hugging him hard; Phaya lets Tharn go with a little smile. “Of course we will have you,” Yai says harshly, his voice breaking a little, and there are tears in his eyes. “We love you, you fool. So much! Just tell me… tell me that you’re happy. There. Wherever you are. Tell me that you are living a good life. That you’re good.”

Slowly and with a little smile, Tharn hugs Yai back and nods into his shoulder. “Yeah, we are, we're good and we're happy,” he replies in a thick voice. “And we’re together, that’s all that counts.”

And Nee realizes that it’s true. It hurts, being separated from her big brother like that, being unable to just pick up her phone and call him and annoy him and complain to him about school and life and the unfairness of the world in general, but as long as he’s happy, as long as he’s living the life he wants and with the person he loves, nothing else matters. She loves him and so she wishes him luck.

***

They spend the night talking. And laughing and hugging and simply enjoying each other’s presence. And when the time comes to say goodbye, when the sky in the east starts to lighten, they’re at peace.

Nee whispers to her brother, “I love you,” and he smiles down at her and whispers back, “I love you, too,” as if they’re sharing a secret.

And when Phaya and Tharn walk down the stairs to the lower terrace where they first appeared to them, Yai yells after them, “We will see you in a year. You promised and I’m holding you to that!”

They both turn back and smile, waving to them.

And then, then they let them see, just for a moment because human eyes aren’t meant to behold gods, they let them see their true forms, the sinuous loops of a Naga, scales the color of polished emeralds, and the wide span of a Garuda’s wings, their feathers a warm shade of golden brown. It takes their breath away.

The gate closes, taking them away, and when a moment later the sun comes up, there are a single scale and a single feather left lying there, on the polished wood of the lower terrace, keepsakes to remember them by.

#the sign #the sign the series #mé #my fics #my the sign fics

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ginoeh · 5 months

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Number 13 for the Spotify fic thingy 🖤!!

Thank you for the ask! You have a good eye for numbers 😂 This one is my much beloved Tamino with Persephone. I had about 158 story ideas for this one already (give or take a few) and decided on a 🌟 new 🌟 one instead (yay!).

I'm staying very close to the song's lyrics here instead of the of more general lore of the myth for this challenge. Please enjoy 'dramatic-idiot-in-love' with a dash of 'unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object'. We start with Dream's pov. Because drama.

~~☆~~☆~~☆~~

It goes like this: Morpheus is enamoured, bewitched, by Hob's radiance, his faith and warmth and the care for humanity he has learned to cultivate over painstaking centuries. He knows what effort this costs Hob, knows it in every controlled instinct and careful look, in every forsaken opportunity for personal gain, how Hob yearns to remain good and light. So when night falls over the warm glow of the New Inn's evening, Morpheus stays and stays and stays and drinks it all in.

Morpheus feels like a moth drawn to the flame. Hob is the day to his night, the warmth of spring and summer to his own wintery darkness. He should let Hob live his life away from him, keep him at a distance as he has for so long now. He's much more selfish than that, though, greedy in his affection as he's been accused of so many times.

Unwilling to leave, he instead lets Hob choose: they can go back to their centennial meetings or, as Morpheus offers, they could trade - an apology for the missed centennial; one meeting in the Waking for one meeting in the Dreaming, each month a different setting. He might not let Hob go, if he acquiesces to this, Morpheus warns (“Those that live too long in dreams might be consumed by them even in waking hours. It's in their nature.” And therefore in his, he doesn't add.)

Hob laughs, bright and daring with that edge of sparkling hope, and takes the second offer (“What's a little bit of lost time between friends? I'd love to come and visit your realm.”) Morpheus has known how Hob would choose, of course he has. Has seen the daydreams of golden friendship, shared tales and maybe even, love. There really wasn’t a choice at all.

The months slip by, pleasant and warm - no, no it's more than pleasant, it's- Morpheus knows when he's in love, can’t not know it when the Dreaming is in the full bloom of spring, with sweet winds and sunshine accompanying them wherever they go in his realm. When their hands and hearts are entangled as much as their limbs and tongues.

It's sweet as honey.

It will not last.

He’s mired in the never-beens and wishes, the dark and the forbidden and the nearly-forgotten - and while Hob might love him as many people love their dreams, as soon as they get too close Morpheus will invariably break his heart. Be it through disappointment and ennui or when Morpheus’ flights of fancy will have Hob's grip slipping, see him falling out of love towards the awakening, and shatter.

And yet, Morpheus wants.

There is the inevitable end looming, Morpheus knows, because love always ends in his sister's arms. Even more, there is the other end, the one he lets loom on the horizon unseen and felt only in the chill between Hob's visits. He does not let himself think of much of anything then. For now though, he takes Hob's love of life and light and warmth and lets it guide him, lets it be his hearth and home. It's deceiving, but Hob is Morpheus' dream and he wants to hold onto it until he has to face the realities of his fate.

Soon Hob will realize that there is another life waiting for him in the Waking, he will not want to remain bound to one such as he. In the light, Morpheus and his world of dreams will be small and unimportant to Hob, easily forgotten, as dreams are wont to be forgotten in the Waking. It will be Hob who'll try to cancel their accord.

Still, for now the deal keeps them circling each other, keeps them close. Maybe closer than Morpheus is confortable with. Maybe close enough that Hob can see thing Morpheus would want to stay hidden.

Because in Hob's eyes, Dream sees love and devotion but sometimes, there is something else. Morpheus knows it well, has seen it in Nada's eyes before the end. It's fear; desperation and fear. And Hob is right to fear him, he’s right to fear the calamities he might bring upon him, to fear the inevitable end, the fall and the shattering. Hob loves him, Hob fears him, it's inextricable - two sides of the same coin.

Because ultimately, Morpheus will be Hob's fall.

Together, they can learn to fly.

Hob though, is the maker of his own fate; refuses to give up agency over his own destiny. It's in his nature, after all. What Hob fears isn't his own fall. If he falls, he does so because he chooses to risk it. He'll accept the consequences, like he always has.

What he fears, then, is Morpheus’ fall. Because Hob can clearly see him standing on a precipice and he'll go to the ends of all universes and battle the fates themselves if only he can make his love step back and turn around - this isn't a Orpheus and Euridice situation after all, or a retelling of Hades and Persephone.

No one was stolen, and no one has died.

Quite the contrary really. This is live and this is love. It's what hope is made of and Hob won't stop trying to get Morpheus to see it. To see as well, that Hob doesn’t need Morpheus to stay aloft, that he is perfectly capable of carrying his own weight and helping Morpheus along at the same time. If only Morpheus would give in to Hob calling him back to life and turn the fuck around!

This story is theirs alone and Hob will make damned sure they never get an ending and only a happily ever after. Morpheus just needs to take his hand and dare the first step.

~~☆~~☆~~☆~~

Okay, that’s a wrap then. I also have at least one AU that involves a more dramatic and fantastical reason for Hob having to spend half of his time in the Dreaming. Then, there’s the idea of a fairytale AU. There's one of Hob getting fed up and be the one to propose a Persephone-like deal if Dream insists on treating this like a effing story (im partial to that one lol). And a slew of other ideas. They don't stay as close to the song lyrics as this here, though.

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #the spotify wrapped thing #ginoeh writes

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st4rs-l1ghts · 2 years

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insult to injury- a. skywalker

-anakin skywalker x jedi!gn!reader

-heavy extreme heart wrenching angst. yay!

-gif credits to owner!!

-please do not post my work anywhere apart from tumblr without my permission!! reblogs are completely fine though!!

he counted your every flinch. every time the light from the billboard switched to neon yellow your eyebrow would twitch, sensing the change in atmosphere.

17.

wind blew in from the slightly cracked open window causing you to shuffle and stir closer to him, your body detecting his heat as a metal detector would detect a metal chain buried deep in sand.

18.

he didn’t sleep. never, in order to prevent nightmares that plagued his mind every time he slept. he wouldn’t have minded staying up, he wouldn’t have as much guilt as he did right now at the chance you’d wake up and see him like this. disheveled, sweaty, sniffly, weak; everything a jedi shouldn’t be.

and so to stop falling back into a space of nightmares, he focused on the one thing that he cherished more than anything. you. making it even more of an imperative that he stay as still as possible as to not disturb you.

20-

“i can feel you watching me, ani.”

kriff.

“it’s nothing, go back to sleep.” he hated being so distant, but he knew that if he allowed even one wave in his speech to differ, you’d know that he was so weak that he still hadn’t overcome the ghosts of his past and that they still haunted his every night.

you shifted away from him, sitting up straight and looking deep in his eyes, ignoring the demands of your mind for sleep. “ani, what wrong?”

“nothing.” he grabbed your hand and forged a smile.

“anakin.”

“it’s nothing.” he sounded more like he was trying to prove it to himself rather than you.

you could have elected to ignore it, like you had so many nights before this one, but you couldn’t. every night he’d wake up with a shake, grab a glass of water and walk straight back to your side, where he’d lay for the next few hours as he watched your ‘sleeping’ form.

“ani.” you sighed, a heavy, weighted, thick sigh.

he looked at you with glassy eyes as he laid face up to the ceiling from his silk pillow.

your heart shattered. what had he been keeping from you that made him cry? why couldn’t he tell you?

you were with him through it all. from shmi dying, from being lured to the dark side and then brought back again. all of it. but he couldn’t tell you why he couldn’t sleep?

“anakin, please.” your voice cracked as you recalled it all.

“it’s nothing, please let’s go back to slee-“ he was cut off.

“don’t tell me it’s nothing anakin.” your voice held strength but it’s was laid over a sea of worry. and he knew this. “i feel you, every night i feel you. i feel your body jolt when you wake, i feel your hands brush over your hair and i feel your lip quiver. you cry every night and i feel it.”

the tears pooling in his eyes fell down the sides of his face, imitating what yours had done as soon as he first spoke, soaking the already damp with sweat sheets.

you grabbed his hand and placed it atop your heart.

“don’t tell me it’s nothing when i feel everything.” you told him.

anakin felt your heart shatter once more under his rough, scarred hands.

“i..” his mouth opened and closed multiple times before he sighed.

as your eyes lit up the room with hope he’d finally pour his mind out to you, they dimmed once again as he retracted his hand and pulled it to his chest, taking the sheets with him too as he turned onto his side, facing away from you.

anything that was left of your heart from the previous shatterings had officially been crushed.

you gave him one last look of hope. hope that he’d turn back to you and tell you. tell you that he was hurt, that he needed you, that he was sorry for not telling you. that he loved you.

‘i love you.’

it was something that hadn’t left his lips in a while.

now you knew why.

reality shook you with force as you rose from your place on the bed and walked out of the room, allowing yourself to fall back into the curved couch in the middle of your living area, grander than that of the jedi quarters but humbler than that of something a senator would have in her home.

you would give him his time. you would wait for his heart to ease. but you wouldn’t go back in there until he had pieced your broken heart back together again.

#zaynspee #h0tchn3rs #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x gn reader #star wars angst #anakin skywalker angst

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plutoniumart · 20 days

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Sky lore/headcannons dump part two boogaloo. This one is about spirits, and maybe a little about skids and winged light

part one in link below

So I like to put spirits into a hierarchy: Elder spirits, Season guides, and Regular/Seasonal spirits. So. What are they?

Spirits are beings of pure light, just like winged lights are. I'm not talking about those btw because idk what they are in my head... yet. But! that's not exactly it. Here, spirits are more like the... vessels, of light. In order to function, and be aware, they gotta be supplied with light. Otherwise! They will enter a dormant state.

And, of course, not everyone gets the same amount of light- Elders get it directly from skids (cutsceeeeenes~), Season guides get it from you finishing their quests (yay), and Regular spirits.... get it from season guides or Eden itself (last one is only when they come as ts or something). This would explain why we see some spirits out and about, while others aren't (e.g. performance spirits compared to... I don't know, Abyss)

Also this would mean that Hopeful Steward takes care of it for the regular spirits in aviary lmao

Anyways! Regular spirits CAN be woken up by skids. just give them a little light like skids do to elders (unfortunately this isn't part of the game), and then they're out and about until the light you gave them fades out- takes about an hour or so, depending on how active they will be. and here's where we go into the headcannons zone, returning to winged light even though I can't explain those.

If regular spirits want to be out and about for MORE than an hour, they would have to take a winged light- filling up their "vessel" in a self-filling loop. OFC, after having taken one, they can fly but beware- never let them use the last star on their cape. they'll just dissipate and you'll have to wake them up again :T

also, if you want to make things more interesting, make it so that it would be inadvisable to wake them up for the first time by yourself- wait for them to have come as a ts at least once. that way, you don't have to deal with them violently reliving their death by Eden shattering for the first time.

also, I like to think that season guides have at least some control over their seasonal area (if they have one), while elders are stuck in their statues (rip), can oversee the entirety of their realms, and have limited control over them. Also! they can meet each other in an in-between if needed (aka vault elder scene)

anyways onto skids. They're literally just fallen stars given form. We all knew that. And if they give up their light, they become ancestors/elders depending on how much they gave up (check part one). they're here to make sure that the balance of the realms won't tip over to darkness.... and here to also clean the mess that SOMEONE made (looking at you, Resh. naughty little skid you are, exploding eden)

aaaaand that's it for now. if I think of something I'll add more parts. otherwise! only headcannons from me from this point on.

#sky cotl #my sky lore #sky lore #sky children of the light #skyblr #sky headcannon #sky cotl headcannon #sky cotl headcannons #sky cotl hcs #sky cotl lore #sky spirit lore #sky cotl spirit lore #Pluto talks

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silvysartfulness · 2 months

Note

Top 5 scenes from Heaven? :)

I got variations of this question twice (yay!) so I will just shamelessly list ten, starting with the first 5 here. 😂

In a loose chronological order:

1. Carve your vengeance from my bones (chapter 6)

I feel this is the scene where the true mood of the story finally shines through, the hurt and desperation, the devotion and grief. Xue Yang offering Xiao Xingchen to take whatever revenge he deems fit to settle the score between them so they can go back to how things were, even if that entails Xue Yang’s own death.

Up until this point, he’s kept the cocky, carefree mask firmly on, being snarky and contrary at worst, but neither expressed remorse or particular happiness that Xiao Xingchen is back. But when he finally gets to talk to him one on one, that facade finally cracks and he breaks down in tears, offering him anything, everything for a shot at second chance.

2. The catfish-yao river and storytelling (chapter 19)

This is such a turning point in all their dynamics, and especially between Song Lan and Xue Yang! Up until this point, they’ve been more or less openly hostile, Song Lan still wishing they could get rid of Xue Yang once and for all, and Xue Yang only just barely tolerating Song Lan’s presence because it’s been made clear he is the condition for Xiao Xingchen’s healing and survival.

But in the river, Song Lan could have turned his eye away for just a moment and let Xue Yang drown – but instead he chose to save him. Xue Yang is shocked, but it does mark the first dramatic shift in his attitude towards Song Lan.

And of course I love the more lighthearted scene after, when they sit around the fire telling the infamous frog story! Actually laughing together for the first time. A first warmth.

3. Yueyang gossip reveals (chapter 23)

The scene that hit the fragile budding companionship like a bombshell – Xiao Xingchen overhearing the gossip in Yueyang, about how “Xiao Xingchen” supposedly tortured Chang Ping to death with Shuanghua. The absolute betrayal and shock when it turns out Xue Yang went right back to his murderous ways after Xiao Xingchen’s death, and how that utterly shatters the very brittle trust that had begun forming between them.

Every hurts a lot. Everything’s back to pieces. It’s very yummy. 🙂

4. Xue Yang drunk in Muaishan (chapter 39)

For the longest time before writing it, this was my go-to angsty bedtime story in my head before going to sleep. This is Xue Yang’s absolute lowest point, where he’s lost all hope and given up on everything, trying to drown up all that grief and hurt he doesn’t even understand feeling with determined alcohol poisoning, clinging to his worst enemy crying and whimpering that he doesn’t want to do this anymore. That Song Lan is the only thing he has left.

And then Song Lan finding the note he’s kept all the way from Tanzhou, with the words “losing you now would destroy him. he still misses”, the only proof Xue Yang has that at least before, Xiao Xingchen had actually missed him and didn’t want to lose him. A very pitiful last straw to cling to.

A scene that has both Xue Yang’s utter breakdown, and Song Lan’s first, very reluctant feelings of sympathy.

5. Xiao Xingchen's vision of Baoshan Sanren (chapter 40)

This may actually be the scene that’s had the greatest emotional impact on me personally in the story? I can endure tons of angst with no problem, but the hope of this one… I’ve cried so many times to this scene. First when I first thought of it, sitting in the car on the way to town, openly crying as the conversation played out in my head. Then again when actually writing it. And many times rereading it.

I’m very proud of this one, of the wisdom that Baoshan Sanren conveys in her calm, no-nonsense way. Maybe this scene was a bit of a vision for me, too. It’s very dear to me.

Thank you so much for asking, truly! 😍😍😍

#asksilvy #the happy songxuexiao roadtrip story

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sweetjijisama · 1 month

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Sorry for another vent here on this art blog but I just have to get rid of this thought somewhere idk...

I think at this point... I am too convinced that everyone is happier without me in their life.

And if they claimed that it's not true in the past, then it's just a matter of time until they are miserable because of me.

I don't think anyone truly wants to be my friend etc. for real...

They only engage with me out of pity or because they just want to help me so they can feel better about themselves.

Or it doesn't take much time for them to replace me because there is always someone more interesting, cooler, better and healthier than me...

And when they gave me hope it all got shattered anyways... Which is the worst.

I can't even hope anymore.

It's too dangerous...

I was able to believe that I finally had a future and that living until that point was worth it...

Only to be disappointed and let down again...

Now I am even more mentally fucked and dead inside than I've been before... Yay...

I've been watching videos about soul murder in cptsd and shit really hits...

I apparently murdered my own soul in the past or some shit according to that.... Yay...

That's my vent post for today :/

#vent #vent post #sorry...#I am depressed again and extremely hopeless...#i am going to die from this shit its just a matter of time...#really sorry again...#cptsd #fml #just me things

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

Note

i've gotta be honest, i don't think weiss' 'it's about time' comment brings us any closer to 'canon bees confirmation' than we already were two volumes ago. it's no more explicit than nora's speech to ren about blake and yang that preceded the renora kiss, and that ultimately didn't lead anywhere either lmao (well, it contributed to the holding pattern blake and yang were in, but that's been consistent since the end of v6. is it really a 'slow burn' if nothing's actually burning? i've seen glaciers melt faster)

I definitely see where you're coming from, anon. However, I do think there's a slight (but important) difference in how these comments are framed. Nora uses a Blake/Yang reference to try and goad Ren into acknowledging their own attraction. It's not about the bees, it's about renora. Though I don't think this is actually the case, it's possible to make an argument that Nora didn't really mean anything by her comments, at least not when it comes to her teammates. She's mad. She's frustrated. She wants Ren to acknowledge their relationship and she's willing to say or do anything (like the kiss) to get that out of him. The closest thing I can think to compare it to is an annoyed person letting that annoyance cloud their judgement of something else.

Person #1, at a Fun Even: "Wow! This is so much fun! :D"

Person #2, also at the Fun Event but really fucking mad at them: "Oh really? You think this is fun? Are you stupid?"

The takeaway isn't, "Person #2 actually hates this fun thing" it's "Person #2 is really annoyed with Person #1." As said, given everything else Nora is right that Blake and Yang are attracted to one another and I do think she legitimately believes they're more than friends, but the scene itself is constructed in a way that anyone who doesn't want the queer rep can argue that Nora doesn't really think this, she's just letting her own relationship bias color her view of the bees and/or she's spouting anything, no matter how absurd, that she thinks might get Ren to admit his feelings. Toss in the fact that Ren's response is, "What else would they be [if not friends]?" and you can picture people going, "See! See! He disagrees and doesn't see anything happening between Blake and Yang because nothing is happening!"

Weiss' comment, in contrast, is much more straightforward and far closer to irrefutable. She makes a comment that's only ever made about romantic couples, while in a calm state of mind, while not actually talking about herself, without Ruby coming in with a, 'Wtf are you talking about?' response. It's not exactly a world-shattering difference, but I think it's the stronger of the two scenes and, technically speaking, the closer to true canonization.

But as you say, anon: it's a glacial pace🤦‍♀️

It's actually funny because I went back to my old recap while reviewing that scene and I was SO hopeful. Like, Volume 7 Clyde still had a decent amount of faith in the writers, despite the utter failure of Volume 6. I'm talking up how they're finally becoming a couple, yay getting rep that's not side-characters/villains, I even use the term "canonize" to describe the scene because I didn't think they'd get that close and then stall for [checks calendar] four years. I jumped the gun under the assumption that of course we'd be getting a kiss/date/"I love you"/whatever soon.

Le sigh.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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adenei · 10 months

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Ch 1 - Never Really Over

*Deep breaths*

Soooo I've been working on a new multi-chap romione fic since April. Have kept it pretty quiet aside from my betas who have been wonderful with their help and support because let's be real, finding time to write and allow yourself to become invested in a hobby with an infant is HARD. But that's a whole other slew of issues for another day. You're here for the fic (I assume), so let's get back to that.

I love the direction this is taking, and am super proud of the idea and its development. I think I'm known a lot for taking existing stories/movies/etc and twisting them to fit a ship in an AU, but this one is all me - yay proving to myself that I CAN have original ideas!

It is an American Romione AU in a modern setting.

Summary:

Hermione Granger is a modern woman who doesn’t need to find love for self-fulfillment. Not that finding love is even an option anymore. Her perfect love story has come and gone with the one who got away—sorry, the one who disappeared is more like it.

That fake fairy tale is all well and good until Ron Weasley, the man who ruined everything, suddenly turns back up in her life with no explanation whatsoever. It seems his only goal is to show up wherever she is, attempting to undo the walls she’s built around her heart after he shattered it into a million tiny pieces. But Hermione’s determined not to let him in. With the help of her best friends and an online dating site that promises users their very own ‘happily ever after,’ she sets out to move on from her first love for good.

After a few misses, Billy slides into her inbox, a sweet, genuine, fun-loving guy who’s easy to talk to and fills Hermione with the hope that perhaps love isn’t off the table after all. Seemingly overnight, she’s gone from perpetually single to balancing a love triangle on a fine, fine line. The deeper she gets, the harder she realizes it’s going to be when she has to choose. The last thing she wants to do is break anyone’s heart—her own included.

So, without further ado, I give you the first chapter of Never Really Over.

Read on AO3

But once in a while I trip up and I cross the line, and I think of you

Work ᐧ a ᐧ hol ᐧ ic (noun) a person who compulsively works long and hard hours.

God, I hate the connotation of that word. And yet it still burns into my mind, distracting me from—unironically—the article I’m trying to finish up at my desk. Am I three months ahead of the current deadline? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean anything. There’s nothing wrong with having backups just in case. It shouldn’t classify me as a workaholic.

Because I’m not.

It’s only haunting me because my brain has a sick and twisted sense of humor. It clearly refuses to follow my strict list of off-limit thoughts, cementing the chokehold the word has on my life.

Ugh. Why am I letting this bother me anyway? I’m Hermione Granger, a capable, independent woman who is perfectly happy with her life right now. A twenty eight-year-old with a house of her own, a career she’s passionate about, and the five best friends a girl could ask for thanks to fate bringing us together during freshman orientation at Kearney University. The memory brings a smile to my lips. What more could one want?

And then the frown returns when I remember that I’m sitting alone in the office on a Friday evening and self-doubt trickles in. If I’m being honest, there’s a lot more I want. Like love. Finding the love of my life would be nice. I thought I’d at least be married by now, and maybe have one kid by the time I turned thirty. Not that I’m a traditional woman by any means. I’m about as modern as they come. It’s just…

No. You’re not allowed to think about him, remember?

Except it’s really hard not to think about him. Especially when that damn word keeps flashing in my mind while I sit here on weekend time, finishing an article that’s nowhere near due. But it doesn’t matter. That inside joke died a long time ago. I stopped finding the word endearing the moment I realized he was no longer in my life. Now if only my brain would get the memo.

I shake my head, brunette curls flying around as I try to refocus on the cursor blinking in front of me. It’s still a tough pill to swallow, but I’ve long since given up on love—or so I’m telling myself. Romantic companionship clearly isn’t in the cards for me, so I turn to the one thing that will never let me down: writing. And right now, I’m only a couple of paragraphs away from completing a lovely little piece on the hidden gems of Bora Bora—the things they won’t tell you in the travel guides.

A long, deep breath helps me push those intrusive thoughts away and brings me back to the salty ocean air and the calm lapping of the waves. If I concentrate long enough, I can feel the sparkling white sand between my toes, and it’s enough to catapult me right back into the article—until my phone rings two minutes later.

I don’t want to answer, but it’s Hannah Abbott, my best friend, and she’s always there for me when I need her. The least I can do is return the favor. Plus, the creative juices are no longer flowing thanks to the interruption, so I may as well see what she wants.

With a swipe right to answer, I do my best not to sound annoyed. “Hello?”

“Where are you?!” Hannah cries, though her voice sounds hushed, like she’s hiding in a closet or something.

“Finishing up an article at work. Why?”

“Unbelievable,” she grumbles, more to herself than to me. “Hermione, I’m going to let you think about why I’m calling for a second and see if you can put the pieces together.”

“What are you talking about?” I’m not in the mood to play this game, but I adjust the phone and hold it against my shoulder so I can lift my laptop and check my desk calendar.

August first. Friday. The day I try to forget. But then I see the periwinkle writing at the bottom of the square. Harry and Neville’s birthday party.

Remember the strong support system I mentioned earlier? The freshman orientation group turned lifelong friends? Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom are part of that, along with Hannah, of course, and Seamus Finnigan and Lavender Brown. We never miss anyone’s birthdays, and Hannah knows that.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! How could I forget?”

Hannah sniggers at me. “Yes, how could you forget? Hermione, I don’t know if it’s because you love your job so much that you’re willing to stay late on a Friday, or because of what day it is, but—”

“We’re not talking about that. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I slam my laptop shut and shove it in my bag a little too haphazardly. I’m already closing my office door by the time Hannah responds again. “Right…”

She’s clearly contemplating whether to push the subject or let it go. After all, she’ll have all night to try and grill me on it, but she knows better. We don’t talk about what happened on August first. Ever.

And just to make sure she doesn’t go there, I try to swing the conversation back to the guys. “Have they noticed I’m not there yet?”

“Well, considering it’s a small gathering of our closest friends—all of whom are already here because the party started an hour ago—yeah, they’ve noticed.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, okay? I just—”

“—Got caught up with whatever article you’re working on? I know, I know. You’re lucky it’s only their twenty-eighth birthday and not the big three-oh.”

“Come on, Han, this is one tiny mistake and I feel terrible. You don’t need to make it worse. I’m never late, you know that! And I would never miss something as big as their thirtieth birthdays. Especially not since we’ve already got a running list of themes and ideas going. Just—give me a break, okay? I’ll be there soon. I’m almost to the car now.”

“Alright.” Hannah sighs. There’s a stilted pause and I wait, knowing there’s something else she wants to say, and I brace for the lecture about my workaholic tendencies and what it relates to. Damn psychology major.

“Listen, Hermione, there’s something you should—” But after a long day of reflecting on it, I don’t want to go there right now.

“See you in fifteen, bye!” I hang up the phone before she can finish her sentence. She tries this every year. You’d think after six years she’d let it go. But no, she thinks that one of these days I’ll finally talk about it. Well, she can keep trying, but it’s not going to happen. That part of my life is over and it’ll only hurt more to bring it back up.

��

It takes me a little longer than fifteen minutes, but that’s to be expected with D.C. traffic. Once I’m parked outside Hannah and Neville’s house, I quickly do a once-over on my appearance. Thanks to the mid-summer humidity, my hair is frizzier than when I tamed it into its half-ponytail this morning. It’s too bad my incessant need to run my fingers through the curly strands does nothing to combat its flyaway tendency. I guess I’ll just have to deal with yet another pitch from Lavender to let her help me with my nonexistent beauty regimen. Perks of having a beautician for a friend.

Prying my eyes away from the visor mirror, I get out of the car and look down at the pale yellow eyelet sundress I put on this morning. There are definite wrinkles and creases from sitting at my desk all day, but what can I do? At least my mascara isn’t running down my face and I don’t have sweat stains under my arms. That’s more than presentable for a backyard barbeque after working all day. Kudos to whoever chose that over some fancy dinner.

Not that my friends would care. They’ve always accepted me for who I am. Sure, I’ll never hear the end of being late tonight, but at least I made it, and in their company, I’ll be able to accomplish the one thing I’ve struggled with all day: taking my mind off of him.

Faint sounds of laughter echo as I walk up the path to the front door and let myself in. A ‘happy birthday’ sign hangs from the ceiling in the foyer, and red and gold balloons litter the floor leading to the kitchen. Of course they’d deck out the place with the colors of our alma mater—I wouldn’t expect anything less.

“Hey, I’m here! And sorry I’m late, you know how work is,” I call to a seemingly empty house.

I poke my head into an empty living room before heading back to the kitchen, where I find Seamus pulling a beer out of the fridge. Everyone else must be out back.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up.”

And so it begins.

Rolling my eyes, I grab a wedge of gouda off the picked over charcuterie board on the counter. “You say that like I intended to show up almost two hours late. I lost track of time.”

That was sort of the truth. After all, I couldn’t tell Seamus I forgot, he’d never let me live it down. Seamus is usually the one who gets called out on things. His affinity for pyrotechnics has created many occasions for us to give him hell, and you can guarantee between the five of us, we never let him live a single one down. So I guess I can’t blame him when he doesn’t miss a beat now the tables are turned.

Which is why I’m not surprised he isn’t letting me off the hook yet. With a snort, he tries to call my bluff. “C’mon, Hermione. We all know you love working so much that you’d skip out on weekends if you could. You don’t have to lie.” And then, to make things weirder, he looks around and lowers his voice to add, “You can tell me the truth about why you’re late. It’ll be our little secret.”

My face scrunches up before I have a chance to control its reaction. Why does he care so much?

“I…I don’t know what you mean. I really did lose track of time, Shay. Why are you acting so strange?”

A scowl crosses his face as he sets his beer down on the white speckled quartz. He eyes the back deck before lowering his voice and says, “Because I’ve got a bet going with Lav and Nev on whether you were going to show or not.”

“Whether I was going to—why wouldn’t I show? Honestly, it’s not my fault I got wrapped up in research and writing an article all day and then forgot I had plans tonight! Do you guys bet on my predisposition to get lost in my job and failure to show up to events often?”

I’m so bewildered by the fact that there’s a bet that I don’t even care about letting my forgetfulness slip. Do I need to reconsider how genuine these friendships are? Does this happen often? Are my friends not as supportive as I thought they were?

I open my mouth to ask as much, but clamp it shut when I see the wide-eyed, pale shock cross Seamus’s face. His reaction is far more severe than it should be and now I’m really confused. He spins around and opens the fridge, rummaging around until he pulls out a mango White Claw—my favorite.

Things are getting more suspicious by the second, and I need to know what is going on. “Seamus, what—”

“Here.” He opens the can with a loud crack and hands it to me. “You’re going to need this.”

Oh, come on. “Seriously? You know I don’t care if I’m already three drinks behind.”

“Well, you might this time…” he mumbles before nodding to the door. “Come on, everyone’s out back. I’m sure they’ll be excited to know you finally made it.”

Okay, what is happening? I try not to let my jaw drop as my mind works to decode this odd behavior. Seamus has always been the one with the crazy ideas and adventurous spirit. There’s not a cryptic bone in his body. If anything, he’s always impulsive and up-front with his intentions.

All I can do is shake my head and follow, giving up on trying to make sense of anything. I take a few quick swigs and step through the sliding glass door that Seamus left open for me. Lively conversation comes from my left, where everyone is sitting around the patio table. I prepare myself for more endless teasing as I shut the door behind me, but instead, the chatter dies to a sudden silence. More peculiarity.

Did I spill something on myself and miss it? No, Seamus would have said something. Or are they really just that shocked about my late arrival? I’m about to ask as much until I look up and see an all too familiar shade of red hair sitting at the table with his back toward me.

Despite the eighty-degree weather, my body breaks into a cold sweat. I’ve spent six years pretending he doesn’t exist anymore. Six years trying to forget that part of my life, convincing myself that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. That he wasn’t ‘the one.’

Everyone else’s expressions mirror my shock when they realize I didn’t know he was going to be here, though Hannah’s contains a tiny wince that’s meant to say, ‘I tried to warn you.’ And their reactions are enough to make Ron Weasley, my ex-best friend, ex-confidante, and ex-lover, turn around.

Seeing his face unfreezes my body from its current awkward stance. Anger and hurt burst through the gates that I’ve worked so hard to keep locked up as our eyes meet. In slow motion, my hard seltzer clatters to the ground, soaking my feet and wedge leather sandals in the sticky, bubbly liquid as I try to find my voice.

As if this paradox couldn’t become any more ironic, he actually seems excited to see me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I’ll never know what since I manage to cut him off with the only scathing question that I can possibly think of.

“What are you doing here?”

#romione #hermione granger #ron weasley #hp fanfic #american au #alternate universe

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