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nattblacklupin · 2 months

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Never was much of a romantic

Pairing: Cassian x Fem! Illyrian! Reader

Warning: mention of wing clipping (just as a threat), Devlon being asshole, reader simping on Cassian, reader is described as being shorter than Devlon and Cassian, random switches in pov (like two times), little bit of angst (cassian feels like he doesn't deserve love), swear words, little bit of Nesta slander

Summary: Cassian meets you in Windhaven and sees you arguring with Devlon. Something about your fierce attitude makes him want to be closer to you.

Part two ● masterlist

Cassian was never much of a romantic. He was one night stand guy. He never felt the need to actually love someone. But later on in his life, he has been feeling more and more alone. He saw his friends find love, mates. Everybody had their own person while he was stuck alone.

He, of course, had his family, the inner circle. They would help him with anything and do anything for him. But it's not the same as having a mate. Someone to love and cherish. Someone who will see through him and know when he really isn't alright.

For a while, he thought that Nesta was his mate. But then she left the night court for autumn court, specifically for the heir of autumn court. And he was alone again.

Nesta absence took a tool on him. He really thought they were meant to be, and she even acted like it. But then one day she just left, only leaving a letter as a goodbye. That made Cassian believe he didn't have a mate. They were rare, so maybe he was meant to never find her. It was possible, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was like that. At the end of the day, he is a low born bastard who doesn't deserve anything more than his ratty tent.

Rhys sent him to Windhaven to check if everyone is being trained as commanded to. If he had any say in this, he wouldn't come here. He hated Devlon and this place. It reminded him of all the bad things that happened there when he was just a child. The only good thing about this place was when he met Rhysand with Azriel. His two brothers are the only reason he's still alive.

But he had to follow the orders of his high lord. Maybe he could go to Rita's after and enjoy the night with his family after he is done here. That thought made him feel somehow lighter. Nothing is better than night with his family.

,,I will train, and I don't care what you tell me"

Cassian immediately looked the way the voice was coming from. He saw illyrian woman standing in front of Devlon. There was a visible high difference between them, but she didn't let it affect her and continued to stand her ground. Cassian was amazed by that and decided to watch for some while. If something happened, he could help her, not that she looked like she needed it. Yet as he was standing there and seeing her arguring with a man that was nearly twice her size, he came to conclusion that maybe women in this camp could put Devlon in his place even better than he ever could.

"You should be glad that you still have your wings, I could just clip them as a punishment for your disobedience"

You just laughed in his face. "do it, and my high lord will have your head. "

Cassian heart warmed at the thought that illyrian women trust Rhys to protect them. They finally trust Rhysand enough to rely on him to protect them and punish those who hurt them.

Devlon just laughed in her face, and that somehow made Cassian mad. He didn't know why he was feeling like this. He had this uncontrollable need to protect her and to make her like him. It was the first time he ever felt like this.

"Do you mean the little princeling and his two bastards? They don't give fuck about some useless woman like yourself"

"Sadly to inform you, Lord Devlon," cassian said mockingly, "but we surely give fuck, so i suggest you to step back and let that woman be"

Cassian flared his wings to make himself the bigger threat in this situation and stepped in front of you. While the two men in front of you had their own silent battle, you couldn't help but admire Cassian.

You knew who he was. Who wouldn't know him? Yet you never seen him. Yeah, you heard stories about how he looks, but your imagination could never come up with the god that stands in front of you. His tan skin. The way his muscles flexed under his leathers. And his wings? They had little scars all over them, yet you couldn't help but admire them. They were so strong. True to his reputation, these were the wings of warrior.

He slowly turned around and you couldn't see his strong back and wings, which was slightly disappointing to you, but the moment you were met with his strong chest you wished for him to never turn around. Everything about him looked so right and hot. You looked up and saw Cassian grinning at you.

,,you alright there, sweetheart?"

Your heart started beating uncontrollably fast, and you swear that it could be heard on the other side of the Windhaven. You couldn't look away from his Hazel eyes. It was like they were holding you in their mercy and weren't planning on letting you go. Yet you still needed to answer him, to hear his voice again.

"I-" before you could finish your sentence something snapped between you two.

,,mate"

#acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian acotar x reader #cassian #fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x y/n #cassian x you

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yandere-daydreams · 9 months

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tw - unhealthy relationships, financial abuse, reader is implied to be a sugar-baby/sex worker, unbalanced power dynamics.

Mei is a woman who can put a price on anything.

You've seen her talents first-hand. Hell, you'd only gotten together in the first place because she decided you were a commodity worth the expense, or in her words, because 'you'd be more valuable with me than anywhere else'. Some of her earliest gifts were little more to foder to prove that she had enough wealth stowed away to not only afford you, but make you hers exclusively - skin-tight diamond chokers, ornate harnesses strung with crystals and pearls, rings studded with pale sapphires that were nearly too heavy to lift. You'd kept the pricetags from everything she gave you in a drawer in your shoebox of an apartment, and as a show of kinship, she decided to keep you.

Really, you could only be thankful you fell into the hands of someone so appreciative. As someone so easy to buy, you can't think of a customer more suited to you than Mei.

Your relationship's too far along for her to be so blatant with her intentions, now, carrying a pretense of affection that means she can't slip you a stack of bills and tell you, in no uncertain terms, that you'll be spending the night with her, but she still finds ways to mark you, to make sure she's always going to be the majority shareholder of your time. All your clothes are tailor-made, her initials embroidered into everything she has designed for you, and you can't remember the last time you wore a scent that she hadn't personally selected. She's careful with what she owns, but not so careful that she isn't willing to offer you tens of thousands of yen to wear the lipstick stain she left on the side of your throat like a designer product. She has a jealous streak, despite how indifferent she tries to act. That, or she just doesn't like it when other people tamper with her investments.

It's become an ongoing joke between the two of you - her possessive habits and your attempts to provoke them. You'll straddle her thigh and slot your chest against hers and pout as you ask how much she thinks the white-haired man across the room would offer for an hour with you, and she'll purse her lips and assure you that none of her 'coworkers' could afford such a gem. Once or twice, you've managed to pester a real answer out of her, always something in the millions and delivered in a clipped tone that meant it was time to stop asking, but more often, she'll take you by the hips and ask you if you plan on replacing her so callously. It's a fair reaction. You can't say she's ever made you think you might be up for sale.

When you can't bite back your curiosity, you drape yourself across her and ask how much she would give up to have you permanently, to keep you at her beck and call without having to stifle herself with allowances and borrowed platinum cards. She likes that question, practically purrs as she promises that, to her, you're priceless. It should be more comforting than it is, but somehow, you can't shake the implication that it's something she's considered, that if there was an amount she could forward to some unknown account, she would've done it long before you'd ever made the offer. You're glad she came to the conclusion she did. You're glad that, no matter how entitled she acts to every fiber of your being, every second of your time, she knows she'll never actually own you.

You're glad that, if she changed her mind, if she ever put a price on your head and decided it was worth the loss, she's kind enough not to tell you that you've already been paid for.

#woman loving wednesday #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yandere mei mei #mei mei x reader #mei x reader #yandere mei #yanderecore #yancore

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ephemeral--dreams · 1 year

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Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words.

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry?

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but.

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict.

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing.

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right?

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later…

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling.

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly.

"You don't listen to me," you tell her.

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off.

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable.

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

#scaramouche x reader #yae miko x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #story unfolding

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jibunbosh · 22 days

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Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

#mesmerizer #analysis #kasane teto #hatsune miku #vocaloid #rambles #text poast

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

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Two Lines, Two Idiots Chapter One: Knock, Knock. You Knocked Me Up

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Twin Brother JJ! x Maybank! Reader, rafe Cameron! x maybank!reader (all over 18)

TW:unplanned pregnancy, angst, violence, drugs, I think thats it

Summary: You should have listened better in health class.

Word Count:1.4k

A/N: New series alert! Love that for me

There are a lot of worst-case scenarios that you're prepared for. It comes with the territory of being a Maybank. You tend to overthink and plan for things to go sideways. But this? This is nowhere close to being on that list.

Not only are you staring down at two pink lines, but the father is quite possibly the last person on the planet you thought you would do this with. Perhaps he should be the first person you think about, but the only man on your mind is JJ.

He's going to be livid; it's bad enough his twin sister is knocked up. Who you got knocked up by is flat-out traitorous. He doesn't even know you've been seeing somebody, which is hurtful in its own right.

You excused your secret by convincing yourself there's nothing to tell; it's nothing serious. A friends with benefits situation, nothing more. At least it was.

Now, you don't know what it's going to be. You know for certain he's not ready to have a kid, and most definitely not with you.

You toss the test in the trash and wipe your eyes, deciding it's best to keep this to yourself until you know what you want to do. You aren't sure how far along you are, but if you had to guess you'd say about eight weeks.

Usually, you're careful, but one night in the Twinkie you threw caution to the wind, and now you're paying the price.

You rejoin JJ, Sarah, and Kie by the hot tub, scrunching up your nose at the pungent scent of marijuana. You figure you probably shouldn't be around it anymore, but you can't really come out and say that. Instead, you try to keep your distance and breathe in as much fresh air as possible.

Pope and John B are off doing something for Heyward and you're glad. JJ knows you well, but being your brother clouds his sight sometimes. John B on the other hand is your best friend and would know something is up immediately.

You politely refuse when your brother tries to hand you the joint and he frowns.

"Since when do you refuse getting high?"

You momentarily panic before smoothing out your features and recovering.

"Just don't feel well."

It's a lame excuse and JJ rolls his eyes.

"Well, weed will help. Here."

He pushes it toward you again and you lurch back, nearly tumbling off the edge of the tub in the process.

"What are you pregnant or something? Just take a hit so he'll leave you alone."

Kie laughs as she says it, but falls silent when she notices the way your eyes widen slightly. So much for keeping it a secret.

Sarah seems to notice as well, shock covering her features as her eyes dart to your stomach.

"Wait.."

Your mouth gapes as you try to come up with a lie, but your mind goes blank and you know there's no way out of this.

Based on JJ's lack of reaction, you know he wasn't listening and you silently plead with the girls not to push it. They're too far gone, their minds hazy and reeling at the newfound information.

"Y/N, are you pregnant?"

This seems to catch your brother's attention, and his head whips to look at you.

His eyebrows furrow as he mistakes your panicked expression for one of confusion and he turns to face the girls.

"Come on, Sarah. Give her some credit. My sister is stupid but she isn't dumb. Right, sis?"

He's looking at you again, and you can't help the tears that burn your waterline.

"I-um.."

You watch as realization washes over him, his high dissipating as the secret is revealed.

"Oh my god. By who?!"

He's one octave below yelling, and you shush him harshly.

"He doesn't know yet, okay? Just don't tell anyone, especially John B."

They all share a look at your request, the wheels turning as they all come to the same conclusion. John B is the father.

JJ wants to press for more information, but the tears slipping down your cheeks stop him in his tracks. He pulls you into him, whispering sweet reassurances in your ear as he thinks about how he's going to beat the shit out of his best friend.

In a sick joke from the universe, you hear the Twinkie pull up and aggressively dry your face. John B is laughing as he approaches, but his expression falls when he sees your swollen eyes.

"What's going on?"

His voice is laced with genuine concern, and it makes your stomach turn. You feel terrible keeping this from him, you're just not ready to face it yet.

He ignores the way Sarah and Kie avoid eye contact, and does his best not to ask what the fuck JJ's problem is as he stares daggers at the side of his face. His attention is solely on you, a gentle hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"What's wrong, sunshine?"

You almost wince at the sweet nickname he reserves just for you, and despite your efforts to cover it up, he notices anyway. Hurt flashes in his eyes and he drops his hand, unsure what the sudden change in attitude is.

You've never once shied away from him, and he wracks his brain trying to figure out what he did wrong. He doesn't get the chance, watching as you stand abruptly and head inside.

You stop suddenly and turn to face him.

"Can I borrow the Twinkie?"

He hands you the keys without hesitation, deciding it's best not to push his luck with questions. They all watch as you stalk off toward the van, and as soon as you're out of sight, JJ's hand is ripping him backward.

He barely registers the violent movement before a fist is colliding with his cheek. He stumbles back and stares at JJ in shock.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

JJ is about to swing again when Kie pulls him back.

"J, don't."

John B is rubbing his face, still recovering from the blow, as his wild eyes dart between his three friends.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

This only seems to anger JJ more and he lunges forward, barely restrained by Sarah and Kie.

"My sister? Really, John B?"

His voice cracks from the sheer volume of his scream and John B takes a step back.

"What about her?"

He's genuinely never been more lost than he is at this moment. Between your tears and JJ's rage, he's clueless.

"You got her fucking pregnant!"

John B's face contorts as he processes the statement and Sarah shoves JJ back.

"JJ! That's not your place to tell him!"

John B runs a hand through his hair, only half the information sinking in.

"Sunshine is pregnant?"

JJ growls and takes a step forward, Pope now assisting in holding him back.

"Don't fucking call her that."

It takes a minute for him to catch up, but when he does, John B scowls.

"Wait, did you say I got her pregnant?"

JJ laughs humorlessly, unamused by his friend's act of innocence.

"Yeah, dickhead."

John B takes a step forward with his hands out, and JJ falters at the honesty in his friend's eyes.

"JJ, man listen to me. I swear on my life, I have never even looked at her that way, let alone slept with her. She's like a sister. So unless she's the virgin Mary, it's not mine."

Everyone looks at each other as JJ goes lax, and they loosen their hold.

"Then who's the father? If two plus two is four, and four plus four is eight, then what the fuck is this? The math isn't mathing."

Meanwhile, you're sweating bullets as your heart pounds in your chest. You weren't planning on doing this so soon, but with JJ knowing, it won't be long until he figures it out.

You take a deep breath, doing your best not to puke as you turn into the long driveway. You pray no one else is home; the last thing you need is more people's opinions right now.

Your legs tremble beneath you as they carry you to the front door and you take a deep breath as you knock twice. Your knees are seconds from giving out when the door swings open to reveal those blue eyes and that cocky smirk.

"Back for more?"

His face drops when he sees the state you're in, and he ushers you inside.

"What's wrong? Did someone hurt you? I'll kill them."

You cut off his rambling with a featherlight grip on his forearm and he turns to face you.

"No one hurt me, Rafe. Can we talk?"

#jj maybank imagine #outer banks angst #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #outerbanks angst #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #john b x reader #john b routledge #John b #kiara carerra x reader #sarah cameron x reader

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giorno-plays-piano · 7 months

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Her Fault

Pairing: yandere!Toji Fushiguro x reader

Warnings: implied noncon, spiked drink, stalking, kidnapping, obsession, mention of Stockholm syndrome, Toji being a part of a gang.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Toji knows nearly everything about her. Who she is, where she works, what's her address, where she keeps her keys, the code to unlock her phone... Except for the last two things, he didn't even need to have someone to spy on her because she told him everything herself. Somehow, she felt like she could trust him, poor girl. He appreciates her lapse in judgment.

_________

"You should try something new for a change," Toji says with that smug expression on his face, making the woman next to him frown. "No offense, but those pathetic margaritas will be the end of you one day."

For a second, she looks stunned by his audacity, but it doesn't take her long to bite back at him, "Says who? The I-only-drink-whisky guy?"

He lets out a laugh at that, shaking his head. "Fair enough. How about we both try a new thing?"

As she stills, contemplating his offer, he already knows he'll win. She will order whatever he tells her to, and she will drink it like a good girl, not being able to tell the difference between the real drink and whatever concoction he will give her. Wouldn't work with a margarita she's been ordering ever since she appeared here one Friday evening.

He first saw her about half a year ago, wearing a fancy black dress and high heels like she was at the gala, not a local bar. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and she wore that classy sort of makeup that suggested she was either at the wrong place or came here straight after work for god knows what reasons. Toji had no idea why she would show up at this bar dressed that way. Did she want to get laid and didn't know how?

The guy sitting next to her at the counter probably arrived at the same conclusion but dumbly decided to chase after her in the most stupid fashion, giving Toji an excuse to send him "I-will fucking-end-you" look and flex his biceps: girls digged that shit, and he was sure she'd take the bait. Naturally, the drunk dumbass left in a second while the woman looked impressed and thanked him for help. It was only natural to strike a conversation.

Pretty much first time going to a bar, she confessed, ordering a margarita. Why? She was a workaholic and, in addition, despised drunk people who couldn't control themselves. Why did she finally come? Wanted to find out what it's like since one drink couldn't hurt that much.

He thought she smelled really fucking nice.

Surprisingly, he didn't bang her the first night because she had a way with words that made him talk more than he usually did, and, by the time she was about to leave, he didn't feel like spoiling her first bar experience. She was probably going to return, anyway. Besides, Toji didn't like feeling so much at ease with a stranger, given the specifics of his work, so he was going to ring someone he knew to do a quick check-up on her and make sure that evening wasn't some elaborately planned scheme. God help her if it was.

But she was just an ordinary woman with an ordinary job with no relation to his business, so when she came the next Friday, Toji thought it was fucking nice to actually talk to someone for once. Why not? She wasn't even looking for a hookup, just for a human company.

That time, she wore a lovely dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, too, but she wasn't flirting with him even the slighest bit. He wasn't sure if he should have been offended by her lack of interest or felt good because she wanted to actually know him.

Since then, every Friday, she waltzes into the bar in her pretty dresses, smelling delicious, lands on the seat next to him, and talks to him like he's a friend. Not once has she batted her eyelashes at him or realized he was flaunting his physique one way or the other to flirt with her. She does, however, seem interested in how he's doing without being invasive or patronal, and it's been a really long time since anyone was that close to him. It genuinely feels good to see her face every Friday and hear her voice.

Toji knows nearly everything about her. Who she is, where she works, what's her address, where she slips her keys, the code to unlock her phone... Except for the last two things, he didn't even need to have someone to spy on her because she told him everything herself. Somehow, she felt like she could trust him, poor girl. He appreciates her lapse in judgment.

"Does that guy from work still bother you?" he asks, giving the barmen a sign to make that cocktail for her and looking back at her as if he really needs an answer. In reality, he already knows she has rejected the creep, and it pleases him to no end.

"No, thank God," she huffs, wincing like from a toothache. "Why the Hell do I attract all sorts of assholes? My own damn father has been an ass to me, too."

"Huh, your father?" Toji sends her a smirk. "Got daddy issues?

He can tell her face is burning even without looking at her expression.

"Oh my God, Toji!" She slaps his hand slightly, embarrassed and annoyed at his antics. "Why are you saying it like we're in a porno?"

That gets a good laugh out of him, and she visibly relaxes, smiling, before she promptly excuses herself to the bathroom, and the barmen finally lands her drink on the counter, secretly nodding to the man on the other side. There's nothing really dangerous in there that wouldn't get out of her system in a day, but that's enough time for Toji to finish everything he has planned.

Really, it's her fault for being naive and so fucking pretty. He could have already fucked her ages ago and forgotten all about the woman, but she just has to be too damn nice for her own good, making him long for Friday night and hear her talk. Besides, what is he supposed to do when she doesn't date and doesn't see even his most obvious attempts to flirt with her? He takes the easiest way out, really.

The drugs in her drink will make her pliant like a kitten, but, considering it's her third cocktail, it'll be a piece of cake to make her believe she just got drunk and ended up sleeping with him. Then he'll explain how she confessed to him and mention he likes her too. Depending on how it goes, Toji's prepared for 2 different outcomes: one, she accepts, and they start dating before he makes his next move; two, he chains her to his bed and waits till the Stockholm syndrome or whatever this thing's called kicks in and rewires her brain. Logically speaking, he prefers the first one, but his patience is wearing thin, and now he contemplates if he should just go with the second plan, anyway.

When she comes back, her delicious scent making him hard again, Toji sends her a smug smile and hands her the glass. Whatever she does, he knows where she'll end up after tonight.

__________

Tags: @minshookie29

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

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uravitypng · 9 months

Text

denki has been in love with jirou since he's met her. at least that's what he thinks but he's harbouring a secret and he's refusing to acknowledge it, pretending that it doesn't exist.

that secret is you. you as a person aren't a secret, in fact you're a hero just like jirou and denki and went to school together. you're denki's friend, his best friend. you're close with jirou too and with the rest of your old classmates but with denki- nothing can replace him to you.

you remember the time you find out jirou and denki started dating, denki dropped everything and went out to find you because he had to let you know, you tell each other everything and it meant so much to him. well you thought you told each other everything...

denki and jirou's relationship was not going so well, communication issues and insecurities flooded the relationship. they have known each other for years now but jirou still worries that she isn't enough for him and denki doesn't communicate how he's feeling to her. he's worried that if he's serious about how he's feeling then she won't want to be with him anymore. he's able to do that with you though knowing he can be be honest and candid and doesn't have to make a joke every 5 seconds. jirou worries that denki will find someone 'prettier.' she worries he is in love with you, she expresses that sometimes, especially the days after nights out when she thinks you two spend to much time together, he always assures her that he only see's you platonically. you're his best friend, nothing more.

they're spending the night together as the both have the night off and decide to spend quality time together but denki wishes he was somewhere else. you told him you were planning on going to bed as soon as you're home from patrols but he received an instagram notification that you posted, a photo of you with mina and a very miserable looking bakugou. he doesn't know why you would lie to him but it bugs him. if jirou caught him looking at his phone on their date night she would be furious, especially if it was a photo of you but he couldn't help it. he sent a message to you asking you if your plans changed tonight. you reply almost instantly responding that mina dragged you out of bed and that it would be better if he was there. he wishes he was there too.

he drinks more and more that night and so does jirou, getting drunk of expensive bottles of red wine. at some point they make their way into their bedroom, fiddling with each others clothes to try and take them off as quick as possible. denki nearly tripped while rushing and taking off his jeans. they didn't really speak, they both just wanted, to feel skin contact.

it was clumsy and messy and they fall on the bed with a entanglement of limbs. denki places heated kisses down jirou's neck while she pulls his hair, grounding herself, in the process making him groan. they are both drunk, so incredibly drunk, so drunk that now denki's completely naked he's struggling to accurately thrust into her, and keeps missing. he's getting more frustrated as she's getting more whiny, finally he successfully pushes into her, hard and fast with no rhythm, just chasing that peak.

what denki's brain fails to realise at that moment is who is under him. he gets more rough and groans again, closing his eyes. that's when jirou hears it. her boyfriend. her boyfriend saying your name. she convinces herself that she must have misheard it, there's no way he'd think of someone else in bed, especially his best friend. denki's grabbing hold of the pillows as hard as he can, trying to stabilise himself and keep him upright. she's getting so close to coming.

"i love you. i love you. fuck, i love you so much." jirou takes a deep breath as she comes to the conclusion it was just her mind playing tricks on her. "holy fuck i love you-" she freezes. he said your name. this time there's no denying it, he's meant to be in love with her, they're meant to be in love with each other, they've met each other's parents, they live together! was this time all a lie? she eventually pushes denki off of her after she was able to move again and left the room.

when denki woke up in the morning jirou was packing her things and telling him that she's breaking up with him. she didn't tell him why and he couldn't remember. he kept asking why but she just left without answering him.

later on that day you messaged denki what happened with jirou because now she's acting like she hates you and you have no idea why. he doesn't know why either.

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meanbossart · 4 days

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How does post-tadpole DU drow feel about his past self? Does he even see himself as the same guy, or is it more "that was another person"? I love how all of us get to interpret how the amnesia affects Durge's sense of identity and I'm curious how the drow in the present feels about this past version of him once he has full context. Does he fear accountability for what the Old Him did or does it not really cross his mind? How do his friends deal with the revelation that Gortash drops on them at the coronation (re: you used to be Bhaal's Chosen).

This is a great question!

He definitely divorces himself entirely from the person he used to be, and you could say he's right to do so. The man DU drow was between becoming Bhaal's chosen and being betrayed was a very specific, tailored persona - He was boisterous, he was loud, he was talkative, he concerned himself with how his hair looked, how his clothes fit and how they were made, he liked to be noticed for his achievements and he was a proud and self-titled extension of Bhaal's body who denied himself individuality to the point of abstaining from ever being named.

If Gortash, or anyone else, happened to disclose even a third of this and his prior life to him, DU drow must have scoffed in their face and understandably come to the conclusion that it weren't only his memories that had been wiped - his whole personality had.

He doesn't care about vanity! Except for his body and build, but that's because he needs to stay in shape to survive out there, of course. He's not loud or demanding - well, except when he has to be to get what he wants. And of course, he's his own man now - whoever that man might be - with a stubbornly strong sense of individuality and bound only to his own whims - which just so happen to be to fulfill Astarion's every desire (or what he assumes his desires to be).

Then there's the teenager who arrived at the temple. Quiet, distrusting, borderline feral with a desperate need for comfort and companionship that he had no understanding of. The kind of person that he would have later laughed at as the Chosen for being primitive and clueless.

It's honestly very funny how he has grown to be a perfect mixture of those two individuals and has fooled himself into thinking he is a brand new being instead. He thinks he is not to be accounted for for any of his previous actions or life choices - not even in a "I didn't know any better" type of way; literally it's as if they weren't his doing at all. He sleeps great at night, besides the nightmares.

As far for how the others reacted, I think Shadowheart feels surprisingly similar about it. Whoever he once was, he isn't anymore - and he has kept whatever this thing is under control enough not to gut them, night after night, so clearly he is trying to fight it. Having no memories of the past herself helps, as well as having disavowed her own previous identity - not only in sympathizing with him but also in the sense that she doesn't recall whatever havoc the bhaalists spread across the Sword Coast prior.

Astarion feels like Astarion feels. His reactions as a romanced companion felt very sufficient and fleshed out to me. He's known something has been wrong from the start, he has nearly fallen victim to it himself and watched DU drow trash and struggle with it while gagged and bound. Things simply fell into place after the revelation and while it was more than he had bargained for, he had gotten into the water with both feet at that point. He probably proceeded to go home and weight his options ("PROS AND CONS OF DATING A MURDER PRINCE - PRO: FAMILY RICHES AND POLITICAL INFLUENCE? - CON: MIGHT MURDER ME REAL BAD) but he would have stuck to DU drow's side whatever he chose to do and made the best out of it.

And of course, he understands what it is like to do bad things against your will. He also understands that that doesn't really apply to DU drow.

Gale! Ohhh Gale. I think given the experience Gale had had thus far (being antagonized, mocked, made to beg for donations that would keep him from exploding like an egg in a microwave, having his heart lightly broken for a second time) he was in self preservation mode - express the due shock, then say it's fine, and that he'll get through it (you do not believe he will) play along until you can get the crown and then whatever happens, it simply won't matter anymore to you.

#ask #du drow lore #bg3 spoilers

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liviusofpella · 10 days

Text

some thoughts and theories on abh so far

Both Raphael and Mikael's touch is said to be cold while David's is hot

If anyone has any theories about who the guys' superiors could be, please share because I have no idea.

I'm 1000% certain that the guys don't really live at the agency.

The mansion possessed a most unusual trait: if its residents weren't actively seeking you out, it was nearly impossible to find them yourself."

Moreover, I think MC was going somewhere and mentioned again that the house was empty.

"Our father went missing. I believe he's dead" - this actually makes me think the father they talk about isn't God.

This could be a red herring but the man who approaches MC at the club could be involved in the murder. His glassy eyes ("but he didn't look drunk") are definitely a hint and his hot-tempered personality make him very suspicious. "He looked around quiclkly," his outfit is rather out of place at this club, he's pushy and insistent. I found some info that glassy eyes could mean lifeless eyes and when you look at this dude, it's.......plausible (kinda kidding, kinda idk. He just looks suspicious)

I believe they all don't truly grasp the concept of emotions. Mikael doesn't really care about the clients + don't understand the concept of grief, David has no empaty for the deceased. Idk about Cas, and Raphael could be the one able to understand emotions (or he's just good at pretending and/or he feels the emotions his interlocutors do)

As for MC - I think the guys had sth to do with her patient going beserk and her ending up at Astrea. It's just a hunch, I don't have any proof, but they obviously need her for something, and I wouldn't be surprised if Mikael already knew she lost her medical licence.

Mikael:

Cheeky if you pay attention - even during the interview in ch 1 he laughs at MC's poor attempt of touching him under a really weak excuse (can't blame her though); "a playful spark flashed in his eyes," "sly smile" so he's not as stuck up as it looks at the first glance lol

Physically: a picture of Renaissance beauty, it is constantly stated he's very graceful and charismatic. MC also says he's very fit and has prominent muscles (which is surprising "for someone in his position); "stately figure"; statue chiseled out of marble".

He's Not a doctor, but yet heals. In ch. 4 he 1000% sucked the poison out of MC body, and I believe so not only because of what he says but also from the way his eyes look. He also says "I've never had a chance to heal mental wounds" which implies he's been healing for a long time.

David:

Could be far reaching and I formulate this theory mainly because I've been watching too much Supernatural lately, but I believe he's some type of a demon.

He's very confident and he "never loses" as a lawyer, so he's either very very good or able to influence people somehow.

MC obviously didn't end up in Astrea by accident, and she's the MC so she must be somehow special, so it makes me think David constantly calling her a witch isn't without a reason. Ch. 3: "don't admit to anyone in the village that you're a witch, either." Could be just a joke though.

Also the fact he was extremely friendly towards MC is suspicious, almost as if he tried to influence her to stay at all cost.

"It's impossible to get enough of me"

After the murder: "he's like a doctor who has seen death so many times that he hardly feels it anymore"

We learn his father lost his mind because he sold his soul. I've yet to come to any conclusions on this ngl.

Raphael:

I think he takes people's emotions onto himself and makes emotions come to the surface in people. Ch. 3: "Raphael approched the man, and the man's eyes filled with tears."

General:

Felonia emphasising that the guys treat MC differently, kindly and friendly. During the meeting in chapter 3, Mikael is cold and impartial when he talks to Fel

David: "You're so hash, Mikael"

"Only constant effort can attract his attention and make him believe that you deserve another chance" so the question is - who's he?

Felonia: "They're not villains, but they're not exactly heroes either. They have a mission and will go to any lengths necessary to complete it"

Mikael knows about the nightmares MC has and the dream we saw at the beginning of the book is definitely an answer to one of the big mysteries of the book, imo we'll learn what it means at the end of season 1 and it'll be the first supernatural thing we witness (although I'm not entirely sure because of how the last chapter ended)

Mikael: "Everyone's terribly worried about you" - why? They're not that close. They're worried because she's crucial to their plan.

My take is that Raph and Mikael are (arch)angels. Possibly fallen angels or at least angels who fucked up and are being punished. I'm not sure about Raphael, but if Mikael is the Angel Michael then he's the God's commander - his strict, controlled character, the fact he's the director of the agency then it kind of makes sense he;s so harsh to Felonia who seems to have seriously fucked up? He doesn't like disobedience.

Quora (don't judge me lol): "His power is believed to come from his closeness to God and his unwavering commitment to righteousness and the defeat of evil."

"The sword and shield are used today to represent a cutting of cords or energies that no longer serve and protecting us from harm. Michael can help in healing and repairing our energies where trauma, grief, past lives or karmic debts are holding us back from our true potential in this life. He will then work with Archangel Raphael to replace the negative energy, emotions, worries, doubts, physical ailments with positive vibrations. Michael will cleanse your entire being both the physical and spiritual."

@agattthaa mentioned that God is kind only to humans, he's not a good father to angels because he isn't present or forgiving to them; God forgives humans, but when angels make mistakes they fall from grace. Just a food for thought.

I'm curious about others' thoughts and theories. I just wanted to put all this together to sort it in my head as well.

Tagging @raleigh-edward 🫧

#i didnt include cassiel because i didnt take his scenes so there are people better suited to analyse him lol #over all I D K #i just f e e l that mikael and raphael are archangels #david is a massive enigma to me #also im not an expert on biblical lore so if anythkngs wrong thats on me #rc abh #romance club #rc mikael #rc raphael #rc david

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

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I was wondering for your Look for the Light series if you could do a drabble about them figuring out she is pregnant and everyone's reactions?

Oooooo I love this!!

Evergreen

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Author’s note: now feels like a good time to mention that Ellie is a little bit older in this series (15-16 years old!!) also I’ve been trying to finish this all day so I’m throwing this and running

Summary: “Nearly everything I know about love, I’ve learnt in my long-term friendships with women.” - Dolly Alderton, Everything I Know About Love aka you find out you’re pregnant [1.5k]

Warnings: pregnancy talks, grief, references to canonical violence, talks of infertility, Ellie being confused, fluff!!

"Are you pregnant?" Maria asks the second you're close enough. You signed up to patrol with her this morning but didn't know she would have a secret sixth sense for detecting if you're pregnant. It's been three months since you and Joel decided to start trying to have a baby, and so far, you haven't noticed any intense early pregnancy symptoms, which is fine. You figured it would take a while to get pregnant, and you and Joel decided to keep it a secret until you knew for a fact that you were pregnant.

"What? No." You say, turning from her to adjust the reigns on your horse, Goldie. Maria crosses her arms over her chest and stares at your profile.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me. I'm not pregnant."

"Then, look at me when you say it." She challenges, and you press your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head. How the fuck does she know you so well? You step closer to her and look around to ensure nobody's nearby.

"I'm not pregnant," you repeat, but her gaze doesn't falter. You sigh. "Joel and I are trying, but we're keeping it a secret. There's no reason to get anybody's hopes up, so don't tell anyone, okay?"

"How long ago did you decide this?"

"A couple of months ago."

"And you're sure you're not pregnant?" She asks, and you shrug.

"I mean, I don't feel any different, but I'm a few days late," you say, and she practically beams as the words leave your mouth. "But that doesn't mean anything. When I got pregnant with Jane, I had my period the same month I took the test. Besides, it's not like pregnancy tests are just gonna fall from the sky." You try to bring her back down to earth, but she's already reaching into her bag to hand you a box of pregnancy tests. You look between her and the tests, struggling to put the pieces together.

"You've been spacey, and your boobs got huge last week, so I came to my own conclusion," she says. "I also have great mother's intuition."

"Should I be concerned that you took so much interest in the size of my boobs?"

"I mean, it was kinda hard to miss." She says, and you laugh, turning the box of tests over in your hands to check the expiration date. They're relatively new and don't expire for another year. There's also a good amount in there, at least five or six.

"Where did you even find this?" You ask as you tuck the box into your backpack.

"FEDRA still makes them. They're the shitty ninety-nine cents ones designed in 2003, but it's better than nothing." She explains. You nod and move to pull yourself onto Goldie's saddle when she looks at you expectantly. There's definitely something to be said about the Miller men's taste in stubborn women.

"I promise to take one tonight if you promise to stop talking about my boobs while we're on patrol."

"Done."

"So, she just threw a box of pregnancy tests at you?" Joel asks as he leans against the sink.

"Pretty much," you say as you stand and flush the toilet. The beauty of marriage is that you guys can still have conversations while actively taking three pregnancy tests. You push him out of the way and set them face-down on the counter as you wash your hands. He doesn't go far, lingering at your left. "You really didn't say anything to Tommy?"

"I swear."

"Maria must be a fucking witch then," you mumble as you dry your hands and look up at him. There's a glint in the deep brown of his irises, and you smirk. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that. That look is how we got here in the first place."

"'M excited." He says as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and kisses your jaw. You cover his hands with yours and indulge him as he sways you back and forth to a song neither of you can hear.

"We don't even know anything for sure. I don't even think I'm actually pregnant."

"Then, why did you take three?"

"I took three when I found out I was pregnant with Jane. It seemed like a good number," you say, and he hums into your neck, unconvinced. The worry scratching at the corners of your brain takes center stage, and you feel like you could puke. You take a deep breath and squeeze his wrist. "I don't want to get our hopes up for something that might not happen."

"What d'you mean?" He asks, pulling away from you enough to look at you.

"What if I can't get pregnant ever again? I've been stabbed, beaten, shot at, starved, left for dead, all of it. And that was fine as long as I survived because I never thought I'd live long enough to want another baby. But now we're here, and I'm scared," you word vomit. Joel doesn't hesitate to hug you tightly, rubbing your back and wrapping you in his warmth. A few tears fall from your eyes and stain his shirt, and you can't stop them. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Baby, you could never disappoint me, okay? I love you. Hey," he gently holds your face in his big hands and looks at you when he hears you sniffle. "I love you. Nothin' in the world could change that. Nothin' else matters to me except for you and Ellie, and I'm so happy with the both of you. If it's us three forever, that's more than enough. If we do have a baby, that's fine, too. But nothin' about you will ever disappoint me, okay?" He asks, and you nod. He wipes your tears away with his thumbs and kisses your forehead. You still feel uncertain and shaky, but his presence soothes something profound in you.

"I think the tests should be ready." You find your voice, glancing at the three tests staring at you. You turn in his arms and try to find the courage to grab a test off the sink.

"No matter what, we're gonna be okay. We'll always be okay." He says, kissing the spot under your ear, and you nod. You take a deep breath and quickly flip the test over before you can change your mind.

"Oh, shit," you breathe as soon as you spot the dark, unmistakable lines. Joel reaches around you and grabs another one, and another pair of dark lines greet you. You pick the third and final one up and see the positive markings. Three yeses and six identical lines fill you with hope, starkly different than your gut reaction to your three positive tests at sixteen. You turn to look at Joel and find him staring at the test with tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh, baby," you murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. "Are these happy tears?" You ask, and he laughs.

"The happiest," he says, and you smile. He buries his head in your neck, and you cry together. At their core, they're happy tears for the new baby you'll be having together, but you know he's remembering when he found out about Sarah the same way you're thinking about Jane. It's bittersweet. You think it always will be. You imagine a huge electric sign pointing to your grief as if it were a nightclub, announcing that love was once here. Then, in the smallest font possible, there is a note stating that love still is. "We're gonna have a baby."

"We're gonna have a baby." You repeat as he kisses you. You would stay there forever, wrapped up in him, but the sound of the front door opening and closing forces you to pull away.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Ellie calls from downstairs, and your eyes widen at Joel.

"In here!" You yell back. You quickly hide the tests behind your back and do your best to look natural as you stand with Joel in the bathroom with tears staining your faces. You don't hide it very well. Ellie can see that much as she steps into the threshold of your bathroom with the Ellie Stink Face on.

"Why are we all hanging out in here?" She asks, and you can't even answer her. You just hand her the pregnancy test and watch as her mind works. You and Joel are buzzing as you wait for her reaction, hoping for something big and sweet, but she shrugs. "I don't get it." She says, and Joel laughs. Sometimes it's easy to forget that Ellie was born after the world fell apart.

"So, I just took this test to see if I'm pregnant. Two lines mean yes." You explain, and she finally lights up, her eyes bouncing between you and Joel.

"You're gonna have a baby?" She asks, and you nod. "Oh, my fucking God!" She yells as she wraps you in a big hug, jumping up and down with you in her arms.

"Hey, be gentle. There's precious cargo in there." Joel teases, but Ellie barely reacts to his words. Instead, she hugs him, still jumping up and down. There's nothing purer in the world than her squeals of joy and trying to answer her million questions. You like to think that Jane and Sarah are somewhere nearby, maybe in the next room you can't see quite yet, listening and getting just as excited as Ellie.

🍓

taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

#look for the light #the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #ellie williams #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #I love them your honor

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galpalaven · 4 months

Note

13 oh please please please 13

13. on a falling tear Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (Miz'ri Jhalavar) Word Count: 3200~ Summary: Miz'ri helps Astarion wash the blood from his hair after Cazador. Content Warnings: Cazador Flashbacks Also on AO3!

blood and balsam oil

The world sharpens to a point in the bloody aftermath of the ritual.

His hands shake, still sitting on his knees, half naked on the cold marble floor. The chill of the room seeps into his bones as he becomes painfully aware of every part of his body. The edges of his vision start to darken, ears ringing, chest tight with the ragged, panting breaths he draws in as he stares at the still, bloody corpse on the floor.

He... he did it.

He did it.

Cazador Szarr... is dead.

So, why does he still feel like curling into a ball and sobbing? Wasn’t that brief moment of weakness enough?

Astarion nearly yelps when something warm and soft drapes over his shoulders. He glances around wildly, startled and feeling two inches to the left of his body — only to find his Miz'ri, leaning over him with a careful smile. Her cloak is what's been placed around his shoulders, warm from being worn. It smells like her — the faint aroma of her blood, tainted though it is from the parasites in her brain, wraps itself around him like an extra blanket, briefly drowning out the smell of Cazador. Her hands linger across his shoulders for just a moment before she pulls away entirely, a physical reminder of her everlasting support.

And that reminder of her support — of everyone's support — is what gives him the strength to stand, slipping his mask of composure back on, shaky though his hold on it may be.

She lingers by his side as he gives orders to his siblings. Something about... freeing the spawn in the cells, taking them into the Underdark. It's the least he can do for them, when it's his fault they're there to begin with. As he speaks, he can feel the heat of her against his arm, even where she stands a good foot away. It's grounding, even as all the world narrows to his body and the few feet around it. The stench of death and decay hangs heavy over the crypt, and the more he breathes it in, the tighter his chest gets.

He needs to get out of this accursed place. Now, if possible.

As the group turns to leave, he catches Miz'ri around the shoulders, pulling her close and burying his face in her warm shirt for just a moment. He thinks he mumbles a thank you into her back, but he really couldn't tell if it actually made it past his lips, or if he only thought it.

It doesn't matter either way, he supposes, because even though he pulls away before she can turn and hug him back, she catches one of his hands as he pulls away, squeezing before letting it drop.

"I've got you," she says softly.

It's hard to swallow around the lump in his throat — so he just keeps walking.

She'll understand. He knows she will.

Getting back to the Elfsong is a blur.

They travel through as many back alleys as possible, but the sun is setting, and with the cloak tugged up over his head, no one notices that he's positively drenched in blood. As it dries, it cracks and pulls at his skin, something he grows increasingly more and more aware of as they get closer to their home for the moment.

He needs it off of him.

He needs to get him off of him.

It's been long enough since the murder in Duke Stelmane's private quarters that the room is free to use. No one had taken it for their own yet aside from using the washtub in it for privacy, but tonight he intends to sleep there. He doesn't think he can take the hesitant glances and whispers just yet.

He needs... something.

Something, something, something.

He drifts between hyperawareness of his body and feeling like he’s dreaming, and he can’t decide which is worse. Or better, maybe. Thoughts start in his brain and fall off before they reach their conclusion, and he doesn’t… he doesn’t…

A hand runs up his back, bringing his awareness back to a sharp point. He sucks in a hissing breath between his teeth, shoulders bunched up around his ears — until Miz’ri’s voice reaches him through the fog.

“I’ll draw you a bath in the private quarters if you want?”

Normally, he would have laughed and asked if she even needed to ask, he’s dirty and anxious to be clean again, but all he manages is a stilted, mechanical nod. Her face comes into view as she steps in front of him to meet his eye, and his eyes start to sting again at the sight of the soft smile on her lips. He can only see one of her eyes, the other hidden behind her hair since the incident with the tadpole, but the glittering pink is full of concern as she looks up at him.

Pretty.

He clings to the thought as she cups his cheek running her thumb across the grime before pressing up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Astarion leans into her, desperate for the warmth, for the gentle, familiar touch to drive the memories hanging over him like a storm cloud back into the recesses of his mind where they belong. She smiles a little brighter when she notices — lets her touch linger a moment longer — before she slips away to run his bath, leaving him feeling a little colder than before.

The world blurs again, until everything around him becomes nothing but colors and a jumble of unintelligible noises. The colors shift like the brush strokes of an oil painting in firelight, and the sounds of speaking and the raucous merrymaking of the tavern below are nothing more than a murmur in his head, as if someone had stuffed cloth in his ears. He’s sure he looks a mess, sitting in one of the chairs near the hearth in the center of the hostel-style room they’d been given, hunched as he watches the fire, still hugging his lover’s cloak around his shoulders.

Normally, he’d be appalled at everyone seeing him this way. He’d be putting on airs and laughing it off any other time, but it seems that whatever threshold he’d crossed when killing his sire — it’s reset him in a way he can’t even begin to fathom.

And so he sits, until his drow returns to his side.

“The bath’s all hot for you,” she says brushing his hair away from his eyes. His eyelids flutter at the touch, and she repeats the motion as if reading his mind. “Do you want me to help you wash your hair? A scalp massage can do wonders for the nerves.”

He’s shaking his head before he really has a chance to think about it.

“I —“ he starts, and then stops when his voice is nothing but a rasp. Clearing his throat, he does his best to sound normal and not approximately two centimeters away from a breakdown of some kind. “I’ll be fine, darling. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, combing her fingers through his hair and grinning a little at the way he must look, leaning after her touch even now.

“I’m sure. You — you will join me in the private room tonight, though, won’t you?” he asks, voice tinged with uncertainty.

The way her face lights up makes his stomach flip. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

He tries to smile in what he hopes is a normal fashion, but the expression feels more like a baring of teeth than a genuine smile, and he thinks she can tell, if the way she lightly brushes the backs of her knuckles across his cheek is anything to go on. The touch nearly has his knees buckling beneath him, stomach flipping and breath catching in his throat. Astarion does his best not to curse out loud as he forces himself to his feet and out of the room, before he loses the will to leave her side at all.

The private quarters are pleasantly warm when he steps into them a few moments later, the air slightly humid with the hot water in the washtub. He drifts to the corner of the room where the bath is, dropping heavily onto the bench near the tub to start unlacing his boots and unbuckling the parts of his armor that survived the magic that tore at his clothes in the dungeon. Even the passing thought throws him right back into the overwhelming feeling of fear and nausea that had washed over him with the tearing of his clothes. Though it had just been his shirt, it had left him feeling naked and exposed — on display like some kind of sick trophy.

Bracing his fists on his knees, he tries to force the feeling back down — to force back the bile clawing it’s way up his throat, leaving fire in its wake. His eyes go in and out of focus as he bounces one leg up and down, until his attention catches on the blood covering his skin. Flecks of it have begun to chip off, having dried in the walk back to the tavern, and —

— hands covered in blood, nails missing, yanked from their roots by a skeletal hand. His hands shake as he uses a cold, dirty rag to clean the dried gore from his skin —

Astarion gasps, gritting his teeth as he reaches over and grabs one of the washcloths by the tub, dunking it in the warm water. The cloth begins to turn red nearly immediately, and it almost surprises him when it doesn’t sting as he wipes the blood from his hands and his lower arms. Eyes unfocused, he returns the cloth to the water, wringing it out and returning it to his skin, wiping at his face this time instead of his arms.

The warmth of the water feels nice, fighting back the throbbing headache that had begun just behind his eyes at some point. He scrubs at his face, taking a little pleasure in the scratchiness of the cloth, the little pricks of pain as he scrubs and scrubs to try and get every last remnant of Cazador the hells off of him. Eventually, the rag isn’t enough, and he drops it back onto the tray, standing up unsteadily to unlace his trousers, kicking his boots off viciously as he goes. Gritting his teeth, he shoves at his pants, ready to —

A memory, sharp with jagged, piercing edges, forces it’s way to the forefront of his mind.

“Take off your clothes.”

Cazador’s voice is a low purr, one hand trailing across Astarion’s shoulders as the vampire circles him. His stomach turns with disgust, though he knows better than to flinch away from his touch. His fingers still ache from the punishment the damned skeleton had inflicted on him last time.

This is… a new request, though, and it makes him nervous.

Gritting his teeth to avoid showing weakness, he slips his shirt over his head, letting it pool on the ground beside him.

“All of them.”

Fuck.

His body responds for him, though his mind screams its protest with every motion, and soon his trousers and undergarments have joined his shirt in a little pile beside him.

“Kneel.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Again, his body responds without his permission, and he falls to his knees on the plush carpet of Cazador’s office. He stares, unseeing, at the heavily polished wooden desk before him as Cazador stalks around the room somewhere behind him.

It’s not long before he steps into Astarion’s line of sight, a sharp, silver knife, humming with magic, in his hand. He uses the tip of the blade to tilt Astarion’s head up, and — sitting naked on his knees in front of this evil, horrible man, unable to say no, unable to run — he’s not sure he’s ever felt smaller than he does in this moment.

“I would tell you not to scream,” Cazador says, “but it will be more fun if you do, I think.”

And with that, he moves behind him once again, bringing the blade down —

“—Astarion!”

The world swims back into focus at the sound of his name. He is no longer on his knees in the Szarr palace. No longer under a spell that holds him still as Cazador carves infernal runes into his skin.

No, he is in a room in the Elfsong Tavern, curled in on himself, clutching a towel to his chest as if he’d been trying to cover himself from prying eyes after he got undressed to get into the bath. Pain shoots through his chest with every ragged breath he drags into his lungs, and — much like he had after killing Cazador — he finds himself feeling the urge to scream again.

“Astarion, my love, can you hear me?”

The voice that woke him grabs his attention again, as something soft gets draped over his shoulders, covering him more completely than the towel he has a death grip on. He tries to answer her — tries to answer his Miz’ri, to nod and lie that he’s alright — but all that comes out is a sob as his scars begin to burn, nerve endings still caught in a memory even as his mind has returned to the present.

“I — I can’t — I can’t breathe,” he gasps, sobbing into the hardwood as he presses his forehead to the ground. “I can’t breathe, Miz’ri, I’m — Am I dying? I can’t —”

Gentle, familiar fingers run up his spine. “You’re having a panic attack, I think.”

He tries to laugh, but through his gasping breaths, it sounds barely different from a sob. “For what? I’m free. I should — I should — I —“

“Trauma isn’t so simple, love,” she says, voice a low, soothing murmur against the roaring of his breathing in his ears. “Your body has finally left survival mode, and now it’s time to feel what you haven’t been allowed to feel.”

He snorts, or he tries to, and her hand makes another gentle pass over his back.

A minute or two must pass in which he just gasps for air like a fish on land — pathetic and desperate, clearly not helping because the room still spins and his ears begin to ring — before she speaks again.

“Can I have one of your hands, love?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that without making a fool of himself, so he just forces his body to uncurl enough that he can shove one hand toward her blindly. She catches his wrist — and guides his palm to the center of her chest, flat against her sternum.

“Can you feel the beating of my heart?” she asks softly. He nods, turning his head a bit to try and look up at her. She smiles at him sadly when their eyes meet, squeezing his wrist. “Focus on it. Match my breathing as best you can. In and out. Slow and even.”

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Her chest rises and falls to a similar, steady, easy rhythm. She takes deeper breaths than she might normally when resting, but the measured length between inhale and exhale is easy to follow. It’s not long before his breathing has calmed, and he feels in control enough to sit up, clutching the blanket around his shoulders as he does.

Exhaustion tugs at his frame as he leans against the side of the tub. It has been a very long day, and he can feel every second of it weighing down on him like stone.

"...can I help you?"

Her voice brings his gaze, which had been fixed unseeingly on the other side of the room, back to her face. She smiles sweetly when their eyes meet, shifting closer to brush some of his hair away from his forehead.

"You helped me," she says, hand making another pass when his eyelids flutter at the touch, "when my scars started to open up after the tadpole incident. I'd only be repaying you that kindness, helping you wash the blood off."

It's not an equivalent transaction, he wants to point out, but the idea is starting to look more and more ideal to him the longer they sit. Her hand smooths over his forehead in a rhythm now as she curls up next to him, and he realizes that perhaps the sweet familiarity of her touch might help keep him grounded in reality and fight away the worst of the memories that try to claw their way back to the surface.

It's that thought that has him nodding, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips as she presses a kiss to his temple before helping him up and into the tub (after reactivating one of the warming runes). The warmth of the water makes him groan as he sinks into it, seeping into his muscles and sapping away the aches of the day.

A tiny part of him balks at the idea of needing this much help as Miz'ri starts to run a rag over his arms. That part of him that is terrified of relying on others, of needing anyone for anything, screams at him to pull away, to send her away and finish the bath himself. It's quickly drowned out by a much louder part of him that is melting under his lover's touch, especially as she trails a small line of kisses up his arm when it's free of blood. She repeats this for the rest of his upper torso — kisses for his hands and his arms, for the top of his spine and each shoulder, for the space behind each ear. By the time she turns her attention to his hair, he's smiling softly to himself, eyes closed as her fingers scratch and scrub, massaging the soap into his curls until he has all but melted against her.

It's such a simple thing, helping him bathe. He's not sure why, as she lathers another set of oils into his hair, it's making his throat tight. Not sure why his eyes start to sting with newly unshed tears as her hand smooths over his forehead, brushing any suds away from his eyes in a move so gentle and sweet that any question of her intention — any question of how she might feel about him — is abruptly brought to an end.

As she rinses his hair a final time, he tries to pretend like he isn't crying. Tries to pretend like tears haven't been streaming down his cheeks for a few moments now — but he should have known they wouldn't have escaped her notice. Not with her so close to his face.

He braces himself for the questions, or the comments at least, but all she does is return his head to the pillow of her shoulder (getting her shirt damp, no doubt) as she brushes gently at the tears before pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

"I've got you," she breathes.

As he turns his head to find her lips with his, he realizes that he believes her.

And later tonight, hopefully, he will be able to tell her exactly how much that means to him. How much she means to him.

Whatever comes next, he doesn't want this to end — and hopefully, neither does she.

#kiana answers #my writing #tav x astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

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gurugirl · 1 month

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Thinking about the anon request where Harry and yn are friends who fuck once and she gets pregnant but doesn't tell him- was thinking what if somewhere down the line they're all together and the baby kicks and each friend feels her stomach and says hi but the baby only kicks again when it's Harry's voice 😭 bc she knows somehow 😭 and yn gets emotional but can't tell anyone why

Oh my god 😭 Can you imagine? Thank you for bringing them up again!

Harry would have a feeling, too. He'd half wonder about the due date and when they last slept together. He knows she's not one to sleep around (not that there's anything wrong with sleeping around) and more than that, he knows her well enough to know something is off with how's she's acting. With him specifically. She has a hard time relaxing around him, won't look at him in the eyes for longer than she has to, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when he brushed against her arm passing by. She's been acting strange around him after they slept together but he's mostly chalking it up to that awkward period that happens after sleeping with a friend. Because she'd definitely tell him if the baby was his. Right?

And still. There's a tension there he can't explain. It's something he can't quite place that's got him especially aware while trying not to jump to conclusions.

But the icing on the cake is that moment right there. When the baby kicks back at his voice and Y/n's eyes start tearing up. There's some kind of connection that happens and Harry won't say anything right then but he'll have a feeling.

xoxo

#ask #friends to lovers #friend!harry #into the drafts

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fantastic-nonsense · 2 years

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the thing that gets me is that Bruce never actually knows how Jason died

he knows the bare bones and that's it: he knows that Jason saw his mother going into the warehouse, and he knows he left Jason there while he ran off to chase down the truck (while telling him to take no action until he got back), and he knows that Jason somehow still ended up in that warehouse anyway, beaten and bloody and blown up by the Joker...but he actually has no idea how or why Jason went inside. He never finds out about Sheila; they're buried next to each other in Gotham Cemetery, and you know he never would have done that if he'd known the truth.

like...who's going to tell Bruce the gory details of his son's last hours? Sheila, who died in Bruce's arms before she could say much other than that Jason was a good boy who threw himself in between her and the bomb in an attempt to make sure she lived? Jason, who was already dead (and then a vegetable and then on the streets and then with Talia)? The Joker, who has little reason to say anything and was presumed dead after the UN Incident anyway?

Who tells Bruce that his son was tricked by his birth mother and then died to save her anyway? Who tells Bruce that Sheila's trickery is the reason Jason ended up in that warehouse, that she told him it was safe and that the Joker was long gone? Who tells Bruce that she pulled a gun on her own son? Who tells Bruce that she watched and turned her head away and smoked while her son was beaten mercilessly with a crowbar? Who tells Bruce that she only showed actual remorse after the Joker double-crossed her and tied her up too? Who tells Bruce that Jason tried to save her anyway, dragging himself on broken bones and borrowed time to untie her when he could have been selfish and saved himself? Who tells Bruce that Jason was a good son and a good man who acted like the hero he was till the very end and it still wasn't enough to save him?

Bruce goes home and grieves and buries his kid and nearly kills the Joker at the UN and puts up a memorial case and starts using Jason as a cautionary tale about recklessness because in his mind, it's the only thing he can do. He told Jason to wait. Jason went into the warehouse anyway. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know how. Those are the only two facts he knows (the only two facts that he'll ever know, since Jason's certainly not willing to tell him once he comes back to Gotham as Red Hood).

So much about how Jason's death is treated in the aftermath of Death in the Family is fucked up, but the fact that there will forever be a gap in Bruce's knowledge of Jason's final hours because it's basically impossible for Bruce to know what happened is just excrutiating. He's left to make his own conclusions about what happened...because neither Jason nor Sheila are alive to tell him differently. And that changes the calculus in really awful and tragic ways.

Bruce blamed himself (not Jason) for years because of that gap before writers started victim-blaming Jason for his own death, but even then that ignorance of his son's final hours hurts because he's left to make his own conclusions and there's never a right answer: if he hadn't tried to bench Jason in the first place, would he still be here? If he'd stopped the truck and doubled back faster, would Jason have had a chance? If he'd stayed and gone into the warehouse with him, would they both have made it? If he'd just forced the issue and brought Jason with him, would his son still be alive?

And he doesn't have an answer, and so Jason becomes a cautionary tale to Tim and Cass about being careful and cautious and following orders (even if neither of them really ever listen). Because if he couldn't save Jason, his death can at least serve a purpose beyond the yawning chasm of grief that threatens to choke him every morning he wakes up and remembers that his son is dead, that he'll never see another sunrise or finish high school or sit in the manor library with him poring over homework again. His son is dead and it's his fault, and that's all Bruce will ever see.

#dc comics #jason todd #bruce wayne #sheila haywood #death in the family #jason todd meta #bruce wayne meta #everyone wake up I'm in my cups about Jason's death again #my attempt to wring sense from canon's victim-blaming of Jason for his own death

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juicedbug · 8 days

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𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙃

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦

they couldn't be more different. polar opposites, most would say. but jason thinks that's what he likes most about salim; he's nothing like him nor like anyone else he's ever met.

frankly, salim othman is everything jason could only dream of becoming. he's the epitome of fearless. stable, if it could wield a metal stake and walk on two legs. while jason can put on a powerful facade of such things, it'll never be authentic like it is with salim.

and it's just like jason to only discover that after being trapped in an abundance of deadly situations with the man himself. though, in a way, he's rather appreciative of it. despite the darkness, the ray that salim managed to offer was nothing short of eye-opening. and jason was left utterly mystified by the fact that everything his father attempted to force feed him as an adolescent would just simply pass in a matter of hours.

brushing against death with alien vampires would be more than enough to make anyone overthink their entire life, but for jason, it was more than that. his thirty years, and everything he's both failed and accomplished within them suddenly felt like a waste. it's as if, for just a moment, all his inner guilts and regrets were no longer there. it was just salim, and that stupid piece of rusted rod he used to save his life countless of times.

inevitably, in the back of his mind, he always knew this day would come.

"what is it that you always say?" nick's voice breaks through his thoughts, "I can hear your brain ticking away?" he recalls, joining jason at his side as he ruffles through his pockets. no doubtedly for his pack of cigarettes.

"unless ya got a couple of shots rattlin' 'round in there, I don't wanna hear it." jason retorts, but not without a dismissive flick of his hand.

nick regards him with a little more than a grunt, carefully looking over the dirt covered expression upon his friends face. he redirects his gaze downwards, patting some more at pockets. for his lighter, assumingly. "gotta admit, man. I was not expecting you to go back for salim like that."

"me neither."

"not after you nearly shot rachel."

"your keyword there is nearly." jason points out. "dunno what that's gotta do with anythin'," he adds, clearly bitter about the reminder.

"well. . ." nick trails, "I guess I'm used to you making the hard, sacrifical decisions, you know? but you didn't that time, and. . .I'm just trying to say I'm proud of you." he attempts to assure. his hands eventually rest as he comes to a conclusion. ". . .rachel still has my lighter. . ." he sighs out in a distant defeat.

jason glances at nick, then away, then back once more. he uses the opportunity to switch topics, and he shortly snorts at nick's realization. "jesus fuckin' christ, nicky," he clicks his tongue, "can I ask," he prods, though he doesn't stop to actually get an answer from nick. "why rachel? I didn't think the two of you had anythin' in common."

"we don't," nick concurs, "but I. . . liked her."

"liked?" jason parrots with interest.

"she broke up with me," nick informs quick, akin to how one might rip off a bandaid. "right before we found you and salim in. . .whatever the hell that place was."

"fuckin' hell on earth," jason corrects, granting a pause shortly there after. ". . .does the colonel know?"

"does he ever," nick answers begrudgingly, "the whole confrontation kinda took place. . .at the same time. . ."

jason blinks, turning fully to face the other in a style of bewilderment. "shit," he exasperates in a single breath, and nick nods in agreement. "well, 'm sure glad salim and I weren't dyin' while that was happenin'," he teases.

nick rolls his eyes, though in theory, he's actually grateful for the subject change. "as if either of you would get that far just to let the other die," he raises his brows in expectancy, ". . .seriously, man. you guys work well together. it's kind of surprising."

jason stares at nick as he speaks, his lips pressed together tight in a thin line. he falls into the quiet, for once not really sure on what to say.

briefly, he wonders if nick is or at least was in love with rachel. if he knew it, or if he figured it out when it was already too late. either way, it sounds like a terrible feeling. but jason is unfamiliar with love. in every aspect of it. therefore, he's kind of envious of nick for getting to experience it in any way possible. even if it ripped his heart out in the end.

that's what it kind of felt like when he watched salim walk down that dirt path. maybe not as dramatic, but it certainly left behind an ache in his chest that he can't quite form into words.

". . .there's somethin' about salim," jason speaks after what feels like forever. "even when I was bein' a dick to 'im, he stayed polite and understandin'. . .I've never met anyone with so much patience before. i mean -- fuck, man -- he saved my life. I couldn't let 'im lose his.."

it's nick's turn to stare, and he does just that. if only because it's rare to see jason so calmly emotional. especially given the circumstances.

he opens his mouth as if to say something, but jason continues.

"did ya know 'm gay?"

nick halts for a second time, a clearing of his throat that tumbles into a nervous chuckle. "are you fucking with me? I can't tell if you're fucking with me."

a moment passes. silence again.

"shit, man. . ."

"yeah," jason chortles humorlessly, "kinda ironic, ain't it?" he turns from nick to avoid his gaze, leaning over the loose fence that keeps them close to the shepherd's hut they've just battled viciously in. "s'pposed there were bigger fuckin' problems and better things to worry 'bout than my sexuality."

". . .like salim," nick chimes in, almost visibly connecting the dots.

jason practically freezes where he stands. "he's straight," he assumes hastily, "ain't no way he isn't."

nick arches a brow. "I thought you were straight until now," he counters matter-of-factly.

"that ain't -- " jason cuts himself off, shaking his head, "whatever, man. I'm not tellin' you this so you can play matchmaker, or whatever. the entire thing is unrealistic, and fightin' freaky alien vampires ain't gonna change that. salim is salim, and I'm. . .me. . ."

nick frowns, and genuinely so. he struggles to find something within his brain that'll cheer jason up on the idea. frankly, he's just now facing the reality on how deeply insecure jason kolchek seems to be, perhaps even unknowingly.

"who knows what could happen," he settles on with a shrug, placing a cigarette between his lips even if it remains useless.

"so thats it, then? you aren't going to go after him?"

jason offers a glance through his peripheral before he focuses forward towards the whole lot of nothing that happens in front of them. it's a little surreal, considering what they've just discovered. what they've just fought against.

he pulls his cap from his head, wiping sweat from his brow. "nah. . .maybe. . .I dunno. I don't wanna be the constant reminder of the worst day of his life."

nick's brows grow tight in a judgemental stance. he looks at jason, shaking his head in disapproval. "that's stupid," he retorts, leaning over the fence that creaks just that much more under their shared weight.

jason doesn't respond after that. and nick can pick up on the rather depressing atmosphere that surrounds him. he purses his lips, struggling greatly to let it continue.

". . .so, you like them a bit dangerous?"

"nicky. . ." jason says in warning, face warming for reasons other than the hot, Iraqi sun.

"𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙥, 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚."

#jason kolchek #house of ashes #hoa #salim othman #nick kay #jalim #jason x salim #fanfiction

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haileyywrites · 2 years

Text

-> The journey of rebirth and self discovery is long and hard one, luckily - he doesn't have to face it alone

-> Just in case - a spoiler warning for 3.2 Archon Quest! References to Scara's backstory! Reader has no gender or pronouns mentioned! Established relationship? Fluffy and kind of cheesy!

-> Some things were changed or corrected due to errors lol

You sat quietly beside the sleeping Scaramouche with a light book in your hand. His face was completely peaceful and blank, making you wonder what he was currently dreaming of. You turned your attention back to the book, Sumeru's library held some of the most interesting books you had ever had the pleasure of reading, this one had you completely hooked! It was also something to occupy your time with while you waited for him to recover and wake up.

Scaramouche had fallen into a sort of coma after his defeat to the Traveler and the Dedro Archon. You were incredibly grateful to her for hosting you and him while he was healing. Not many - if any, would do so after everything he had said and done to her. Her kindness and mercy truly blew you away...

Of course you couldn't claim to know the gods or their ways, but you knew enough about the Electro Archon from Scaramouche to draw your own conclusions about them. Unfair as it may be to them - he had first hand experience. He was the creation of one of them, after all...

Still, you couldn't fully rule out the possibility that she wanted him to heal in order to later punish him. While you did not assist him or the Sage's in making all of this happen, you still did nothing to stop it despite being able to. You couldn't. You didn't approve of any of it and you weren't afraid of telling him that every day. But you couldn't do anything against him and not betray him at the same time...

You couldn't express your gratefulness to the Traveler and the Archon for stopping him in time. Things had been too close to getting out of control and your refusal to act against him could have lead to much destruction - not to mention loss of innocent lives...

A loud sigh left your mouth as you rubbed your temples in frustration... You were supposed to be relaxing and reading to keep your mind away from those kinds of thoughts - you would worry about it after Scaramouche woke up and then you would face the consequences of your actions. Right now, what mattered was just him waking up.

Your gaze slowly turned back towards Scaramouche who - to your bewilderment was awake and staring right back at you. You nearly bounced off of the armchair from both shock and happiness - he was finally awake! But how long had he watched you pondering while you were lost in your own thoughts?

“Kuni! You're awake!” You exclaimed - his nickname leaving your lips without your notice. He did notice and was glad to hear you call him an endearing nickname.

“No need to shout... My head hurts.” He mumbled as his brows frowned. Though he was far from mad.

“Right... Sorry! I'm just so glad to see you awake again.” You gave him an apologetic smile.

A heavy silence settled around you after that. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, it was more like you both struggled with what to say next. There was so much you wanted to say to him and he to you, but where to even start?

After a moment he wordlessly brought his hand to rest on the edge of his bed with his palm open as an invitation for you to hold it. You of course took it without question, you gave him a reassuring squeeze when you intertwined your fingers with his. His hand were smooth and so soft to the touch, they were slightly cool like usual. His gaze refused to meet yours as he ran his thumb over your fingers mindlessly.

“How long was I asleep?” He asked after a while.

“A while... Almost a week, I think.” You had neglected to keep count in order to lessen your worries.

He hummed in response and turned to finally face you again. For a while you simply stared into each other's eyes lovingly in silence before the double doors opened making you turn to face them. You both fixed your gazes onto the small Archon who strolled in with a wide and genuine smile on her face.

She too was relieved to see him finally awake and not much worse to wear it seemed. He was in for quite an earful from the God of Wisdom - after some time you began to worry she would never stop scolding him. But he more than deserved it and took it without complaint. Well, without complaining to her anyway...

In the end, she simply told him to go out in the world with fresh eyes and find himself. To find a new purpose - a new goal for his life. It was as if she saw right through him, as if he was an open book laid out before her and she knew all the answers to it. With his betrayal he would have no place within the Fatui anymore, and without the Gnosis he had no other plans for the future...

The idea of traveling the world again didn't bother him, but "finding himself" was almost laughable to him. Life wasn't simple or a fairytale where everyone got a happy ending or another chance to star over. But he really didn't have any plans or other options, it wasn't like he was going to remain here or crawl back to the Fatui anyway. No way.

He did worry about you, though. You had been by his side even before the Fatui and you refused to leave even when he joined them. He knew you didn't approve of them and their methods or beliefs, he didn't care for them anyway - they were just a useful tool for the time being. But you still stood by his side the same as always with that bright smile and warm heart...

But after everything that happened in Sumeru - everything he did... Would you or could you still remain by his side? To you the answer was obvious. Of course you would! Especially now, as it would be a difficult journey for him. You wouldn't let him face it alone, so of course you would be by his side. If you were lucky, you could even serve as a good influence, but that was perhaps too ambitious. In any case, you had fallen in love with him and didn't seek to change him as a person.

So when the time came, you stood by his side to bid farewell to Sumeru and it's Archon. You would return one day, but for now you would simply travel the world and see where your journey would take you. You held his hand in one of yours and the strap of your travel bag in the other, you smiled at him as you turned your back to the city.

The sun was rising before you and lighting the world around you, making it glow beautifully golden. There was a long journey ahead of you, so it was best to get going. The destination was unknown, but you couldn't wait to reach it together and to see what kind of people you were by the end of it! All you knew for certain was that you would only grow to be stronger together.

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