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eclairsnme · 9 months

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♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2

The brattiness continues (with a sprinkle of denseness)

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she thinks highly of herself, it’s almost as if she’s the reincarnation of Gojo Satoru.

oh, spoiler alert she's going to meet someone who also thinks very highly of himself. ^_−☆chu~

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

“Sae!”

The clacking of your high heels echoed throughout the airport as you chase your damn little brother.

What a sight out of a bad Netflix series, except it’s real life. But this is more like a horror movie for a celebrity like you. In your pristine clothes and all, chasing like a wild animal!

“Sae!” You huffed, trying to catch up with him.

Damn, that soccer player with his long legs.

What is a celebrity like me ME chasing a mere man down like that! -

That is exactly what your manager thought too, as he tries to keep up with you.

So, how did you exactly come to this point of peak desperation?

It all started last night when Sae relayed to you that he’s going back to Spain straight after the Japan U-20 match.

In all honesty, you didn’t really care all that much since an idol like you had better things to do (^-^)v.

Then it struck you. As a good sister… I should stop him!

Unlucky for you, being oblivious to all else except idol-related issues is your biggest flaw.

To put it simply, you were pretty dumb when it comes to relationships.

And that was the start of your plan to “stop” Sae from returning to Spain.

Lucky for you, Sae was smart. He halted his steps and said, “Sister, are you stupid?”

But his EQ wasn’t all that great.

“S-stupid?” You stuttered out at his bluntness.

“Yes.”

Sae looked around their surroundings noting that they had already caught the attention of some prying eyes.

Sigh

Sae continued, “Just go back home.”

“But,” you gave him your best puppy eyes. V✪ω✪V

But, indeed, he was unaffected by your usual antics.

“What business do you even have in Spain?”

“Well~ the business of being a good sister!”

A tangible silence ensues from the absurdity.

“Idiot.”

“Sae, is this how you see your sister? As an idiot, uncaring sister?” You asked him squarely still trying to put on your Oscar-worthy acting skills.

Alas, Sae did not respond to you but instead said, “I’ll let you know when I reach Spain.”

Sae entered his departure terminal leaving his pouty older sister.

Sighing, he looked back and gave you a little wave, after seeing you smile, he walked further in until you couldn’t see him.

Besides the two celebrities — a top idol and football prodigy — was their manager profusely bowing to each other to apologise for today's event.

Being a manager is not an easy job, especially when attending to the Itoshi siblings who do not have the best attitude.

Your manager turned to you, “Let’s get on with our schedule today shall we?”

“Did that act look like I was a very caring sister?”

Caught off guard by your question, Mr manager stuttered out a yes.

You let out a satisfied grin.

Job done !＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

Mr manager sighed.

–

Inside the car, you asked Mr Manager what your schedule was for today.

“A commercial shoot for this up-and-coming game you will be promoting, a meeting with our sponsors and…”

And everything else that came out of his mouth just drowned out. You checked your phone and saw no reply from Rin.

I wonder how Rin is feeling after crying so much that day…

“Also, someone called our studio just now. It was a German man — I’m not sure what he said but he did mention your name specifically, and he addressed you by your real name.”

Your ears perked up.

“A German man who knows my real name?”

In your life, you only personally know one German man and his name is Kaiser something.

You met him a few years back in Germany. You thought he was an extremely unintelligent person as he kept speaking to you in German even though you didn’t understand a single word that exited his mouth.

You remembered he kept saying “Süße” (*sweetie) and he would always kiss the back of your hand, which you thought was a German thing.

What a culture shock it was, people in foreign countries sure do have a very different way of greeting people compared to in Japan.

“So did that man mention his name?” You turned to Mr manager.

“Michael Kaiser. He also left his personal phone number it seems.”

“Give me that number.” You held your hand out.

“D-do you even know this man? He could be a stalker!”

“Maybe~”

“Maybe?!” Mr Manager raised his voice, then he paused for a moment, “Hold on, that name Michael Kaiser sounds real familiar…”

As Mr manager wreck his head about that, you thought back about this Kaiser person.

Back when you were having your world tour in Germany, you had some free time to explore the streets of Germany. So you snuck out of your hotel room, it was all fun and games until you lost your way in a foreign country you have never visited before.

As a young girl, stuck in an unfamiliar country, unfamiliar street, and unfamiliar language, you could only cry.

That was when you met Kaiser.

Ah! How embarrassing it was to cry in the middle of nowhere now that you think about it! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

So pathetic of me!

Both of you were pretty much strangers, you were surprised he remembered you and how he still managed to find you.

Oh! I really am a worldwide star! ↖(^ω^)↗

You giggled to yourself.

“Ah, I remember now!” Mr manager exclaimed, practically screaming into your ears.

You pushed Mr manager away and side-eyed him, “What is it?!”

“Michael Kaiser! He is a popular prodigy football player from Germany!”

Football player?

“Is being a football player a popular occupation these days?”

So this Kaiser person is a football player too? And a prodigy at that too? The world really has no shortage of prodigies huh?

Of all the football players you know, all of them are dubbed prodigies. That being said, you only know three football players — Sae, Rin and now, Kaiser.

“Mr manager, don’t tell me you are a football prodigy too?”

“Surely you jest, miss. I-if I was a prodigy,” he hesitated for a second then said in a hushed voice, “I wouldn’t be working for you.”

“What did you say?” You frowned at him.

“N-nothing!”

“As punishment for saying that, go call that Kaiser person and ask what business he has with me.”

“But I don’t speak German!”

“Go figure it out then!”

I shouldn’t have said that Mr manager berated himself.

“Oh, after my schedule, drive me to that restaurant I told you about,” you snickered, “I’m going on a ‘date’ with my youngest brother.”

—

“Did you wait long?”

You tapped your younger brother who seemed lost in thought.

“No… I just arrived too.”

He visibly looked disturbed by something and you knew exactly what it was.

“Are you still upset by your brother?”

Rin clenched his fist and swallowed down his frustration.

You placed your hand over his clenched fist and pacified him, “Don’t let it get to you alright? Sae is still going through puberty!”

A few days ago you booked (more like Mr manager booked) a private room in a fancy hotel restaurant, to treat Rin to something nice since you thought he looked pretty melancholic.

“Sister, puberty ends at the age of 16 for males.”

“Well, Sae will forever be a little boy to me! Anyways, order what you want! This sister of yours will be treating you so order up!”

You took a glimpse of the menu and salivate at the picture of the A5 Wagyu steak. Oh, how succulent and fatty it will be!

However, you reminded yourself that you have to watch your weight. As an idol, one cannot stress the importance of weight management.

You used all your 10 fingers to mentally count how much you’ve eaten today.

You grimly looked at the wagyu steak and fries and decided to go for a simple duck confit with a side of salad.

Rin glances toward you to see what you are ordering and saw you intensely glaring at the picture of a steak.

“I’ll get the duck confit with salad, what about you?” You close the menu bidding farewell to the steak.

“The wagyu steak for me,” Rin replied.

You signalled the waiter and placed the order.

After ordering, what followed was an air of silence and strong awkward energy.

After being an absent sister for god knows how many years, you’ve never really communicated much with this teenager Rin. You were only close to him when he was just a teeny tiny boy playing football with Sae. Even then, he was still closer to Sae.

Rin will only approach you whenever he was upset with Sae. He will then subsequently cry to you about his problems. Now he still cries to you as you recollect the day the U-20 match was over and Rin poured his heart out.

Not knowing how to proceed with this conversation or the lack thereof, you prompted him with a question, “Do you have a girlfriend?” (๑╹ω╹๑ )

Rin stared at you as if you were joking around, “I do not have time for that.”

“Is football the only thing on your mind?”

“Yes.”

“You are just like your brother.” You frowned at Rin and the other little one.

Rin’s resentment grew inside of him like a tumour as he is reminded of his brother.

Uh-Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.

You quickly tried to divert his attention.

“Ooohhhh look at this Rin! The photo for my photoshoot! Don’t I look absolutely gorgeous here?” You held up your phone and nervously giggled.

Rin eyed at your phone.

“It looks alright.”

“Just alright?”

Just like a game of ping pong, it’s your turn to seethe. In your list of top 100 things that annoy you, to have someone not acknowledge your beauty was number 97! It’s on the lowest scale because 9 out of 10 times, people will appreciate your beauty. The rest are just haters! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Humph! I’ll let that slide just because you are Rin-Rin.

You tried to think of a topic and were reminded of something.

“So what’s the deal with Blue Lock? Are you doing well there?”

Rin summarised his full experience in Blue Lock and he didn’t forget to sprinkle in his hate for this boy called Isagi and of course your other little brother.

Your little brother really needs to get some therapy with all these astonishing degrees of anger and hatred.

Then the food came interrupting Rin’s heated tirade on how much he hated Isagi and Sae.

You both had a hearty dinner and Rin kept shoving beef steak onto your plate despite you saying no, so you had no choice but to eat it.

It was a very conflicting experience having to eat something you love yet having calorie restrictions.

The life of an idol sure is tough.

After finishing dinner, both of you left the restaurant. Before leaving the hotel, you excused yourself to the toilet.

The toilet was so far you could’ve just walked half a marathon, not to mention it was secluded at the very corner of the hotel.

You sighed, at least I think I burned some calories.

“Süße!”

“!!!” You felt someone’s hand snaking around your waist. ⊙▽⊙

Thinking it's some creepy stalker of yours, you reflexively swatted the hand away. But the person in question was firm.

Perfume wafted through your nose as he presses his body against yours.

You let out a soft squeak at the contact. (〃ω〃)

Finally making eye contact with the man, you realise it was someone you know.

“Kaiser?” He smiled like a Cheshire Cat as you mention his name.

“Meine Leibe,” he brought you to a warm embrace, to which you similarly return his hug.

German’s greetings sure involve lots of skin contact, you thought to yourself as you felt Kaiser’s heat radiating through you.

He finally released you from the hug.

You quickly took notice of the rose tattoo that seemed to go from his neck down to his left arm which he didn’t have before when you met him in Germany.

You pointed to his tattoo to somewhat question him since you didn’t speak a lick of German.

He lifted his left hand for you to have a better look. You held onto his hand to inspect the tattoo but he had a better idea. He pushed his hands against your lips.

A soft shriek escaped you.

Your lipstick was sure to have stuck onto his hand. And more importantly, you have to reapply your lipstick!

What is this man thinking! ಠ╭╮ಠ

While you quickly reached out to your purse for your lipstick, you saw Kaiser bring his left hand to his own lips staining his lips in the process from your peripheral.

When you finished reapplying your lipstick, Kaiser was intently watching you.

You instinctively tried to rub off your lipstick from his lips but he was faster to grab your wrist and pulled you closer to him, so close that you were just a few inches away from his lips.

What’s wrong with Germans and their love for skin contact? Is this normal in Germany?

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long, meine liebe,” Kaiser said in German.

You drew a big fat question mark in your head. ( •́ ⍨ •̀)

What did he just say? And why does he look like he’s going in for a kiss?

True enough, Kaiser brought his lips to your lips. He invited his tongue through your parted lips tasting you for the very first time. He allowed his hands to yet again snake around your waist pulling you closer to him as if you weren’t already stuck to him.

What is this? This is a German greeting too right? ╭( ๐ _๐)╮

His other hand found its way to your chin. He tilted your chin slightly up to deepen the kiss.

As much as dancing your tongue with an old German friend was exciting, you couldn’t help but realise you were still in public. What if someone saw you?

You place both hands on Kaiser’s chest, slightly pushing him away and breaking the kiss.

“What’s wrong, Liebling?” His hands are still on your waist, trying to pull you back to him.

“Sister?”

You quickly detach yourself from Kaiser catching a glimpse of Rin from the corner.

You noticed that he was blushing. Oh, he definitely saw all that.

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)

“Rin!” You exclaimed feeling like you were caught in the middle of some illegal act.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?”

That’s unbelievable, never in your whole life have you had a so-called “boyfriend”. What is Rin on to make him believe that?

“Then, why were you kiss-”

You promptly interrupted Rin from his imagination, “This is my friend, Kaiser!”

You pointed over to Kaiser, and he took the opportunity to catch your hand into his grip and ultimately hold your hand.

“-just a friend,” you tried explaining it to Rin. (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

Rin, however, looked over at his sister and the blonde-with-blue-streaks-haired man who is almost as tall as Sae, who was just a second ago kissing so intimately and now holding hands like a couple would behave.

Hard to believe they are not a couple; what kind of friends eat out each other's face.

Kaiser? Rin ruminates on that name.

Rin knows a Kaiser who looks just exactly like him.

“Michael Kaiser,” Rin carefully enunciates his name, which causes the man himself to grin at him.

“Rin-Rin, you know him?”

“Prodigy player and also a member of the New Generation World XI,” said Rin glaring at Kaiser. (⩺_⩹)

In response, Kaiser didn’t say a word but just responded with the usual smug grin.

“What? When did you learn German, Rin-Rin?”

“What’s your relationship with my sister?” Rin continued to question Kaiser.

Kaiser brought your hand to his lips and gave it a gentle peck, “what do you think, Itoshi Rin?”

“You know me?”

“The little brother of Japan's football prodigy, Itoshi Sae, and you who will always live in his shadows as a nobody.” Kaiser snickered at Rin.

Raw anger shot through him. He yet again clenched his hand into a tight fist, seething with anger. Every word from him stung him.

Unsure of where this conversation is leading, you stared in confusion. That was until you saw Rin sudden change in mood.

What had made the conversation turn so sour for Rin?

You were dumb but your EQ was not that severe to not see that Rin was somehow at the losing end of the conversation.

You let go of Kaiser’s hand and ran to your little brother.

“What’s wrong?”

You saw the dark, gravel look on him almost as if he was about to break someone’s joint.

Placing a hand over his back and patting him just as you did when he was younger, you guided him down the hotel’s hallway towards the exit.

“Let’s go home.”

“Meine leibe?”

He received no response from you, instead he only saw your retreating figure.

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

< you have reached the end! thank you for reading babes! (〃∀〃)ゞ I really appreciate all the love you are giving to this ongoing series! look forward to more spine-crawling fluff! ʅ（´◔౪◔）ʃ *evil laugh* the harem begins now>

Part 3

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grimm-writings · 12 days

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HIIII i LOVE your blog!! could i request a bard reader performing a song in front of the party, and it slowly dawns upon chilchuck that the song is about loving him? 🥺

a way with words

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is a bit of a poetic shit <3, reader plays a string instrument (envisioned a lute or mandolin but i don’t specify!)

…wc! 1092

…notes! OH MY GODDDD this is so cute. what the hell. we need more bard representation in this got damn dungeon. (i know thistle could technically be one but one in a party i beg)

To me, some parties employ a bard if they plan on going on ‘legendary’ outings into dungeons.

Somebody needs to be there to document their exploits through the written word – how else are legends made?!

You probably stumbled on the party with the intent to write a song of legend. Eating the dragon that ate one of you sounds pretty legendary after all, right?

Safe to say if you’re not exactly humble about your profession you get on the nerves of a certain union man.

Even if your reason for joining the party was… less than virtuous, you did bring a certain joy to the party that they all appreciate.

If journeying is getting tiring, all you need to do is pluck a few strings of your instrument and hum a travelling song.

Sometimes you’d make a little ‘game’ out of it. You know using the drunken sailor melody to make your own songs? Well…

“What shall we do with a big red dragon, earl-ye in the morning!” Your voice rings out, bouncing off the walls of the dungeon around you. You eye the party around you before your gaze lands on the half-foot seeming disinterested in your performance. Well, that simply won’t do! You lunge, dragging him back by the shoulders, eyeing him expectantly. He only gives you a wide-eyed look of surprise for a second before realising everyone is watching. He’d hate to interrupt the song, so… “Tie it down and eat it for dinner?” he suggests, only guessing the rhythm vaguely. To his surprise, you seem to really like it. You laugh and pick up the music once more to sing his lyric once again. He has to admit, at least you’re having fun. He doesn’t realise until you reach a stop that he’s been singing along at the end.

I imagine half-foots have a cultural appreciation for music. It’s a big scene! They have drinking songs, travelling songs, work songs… I wouldn’t be surprised if most bards are half-foots!

And Chilchuck is no exception. Have you seen his little jig? Of course he likes music!

He has great hearing so he’ll also pick up on little accents in your music and singing others wouldn’t really get.

If you’re performing a campfire song, Chilchuck will likely join in (especially if he had a bit of drink).

It’s nice. He seemed to be relaxing around you, and you seem to be becoming more of a friend to the party rather than a glorified biographer.

You have to admit that the half-foot has been growing you a considerable amount. What a complex individual. So much to read into and inspire…

It would be one night when you’re on night watch that Chilchuck’s sensitive ears end up waking him up. ..

The half-foot was going to hiss and complain about you being too loud at this time in the night, when he realises you’re playing a melody and mumbling words to yourself. …Huh. Are you writing a song? Chilchuck tries to remain still with his eyes closed and listens closely. It’s handy having such keen senses sometimes. He could only pick up a few words; brown, warmth… something about a kind soul? Chilchuck figures you might be setting up for the party’s “legendary” song. Maybe you’re focusing on Falin. Her hair is a very pale brown, and she’s a kind soul if a bit of a people pleaser. He rests easy, listening to your gentle plucking of your strings. It’s a different melody from usual… he likes your softer side he can identify through your music.

He never tells you he listened to your little jam sesh. If you knew he’s using your music as a way to fall asleep easier… He can see your smug smile now, and it makes him endlessly frustrated (or flustered rather).

Chilchuck’s feelings are something he never really… knew. They just sort of existed, and he let them. It’s not like anything will happen.

Sure, he gets more red in the face around you… and MAYBE he gets a softer look in his eyes as he looks at you… and perhaps he thinks your singing voice is one of the prettiest sounds he has ever heard…

So what?

It’s a colder night when you take out your instrument and announce you finished writing a song. It took you a long time to complete it, you admit, but you put a lot of heart into it.

A unique starter, the party might think. Usually you write for fun. Specifying putting heart into your music is something that rings an alarm in their heads.

You start playing a melody. It’s a type of sombre, deep sound. It resonates a less folksy mood and something more… personal. With eyes closed, you don’t notice Chilchuck perking up in familiarity. That’s the tune he heard you playing weeks ago. You only just refined it? At least he can actually hear what the words are. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you sing about a character that has a kind soul, with deep brown eyes. His warmth is something that you find yourself wanting to bathe in once a journey ends. Chilchuck listens with a small smile. It’s only when you start mentioning things like silver strands of hair you wish to weave through your fingers, things start to fall into place. Wringing his hands too often for a well-prepared man is a lyric that is too specific to merely be about some fictional character. He doesn’t say anything even as he joins in the applause at your finished peace, pretending the heat in his cheeks is from the frosty temperature.

That night, he catches you alone refilling your waterskin. The atmosphere is thick with a kind of calmness.

Where Chilchuck is usually so stubborn, he finds the words escaping his lips in a soft voice.

“Are you in love with me?” You don’t respond instantly. He expected as such. He follows your form with his eyes as you widen your eyes and glance away with a small laugh. “Wow. Wasn’t as subtle as I thought,” you dryly tack onto your chuckle. He laughs along, approaching you. He doesn’t do anything drastic, instead offering his own to you. “It’s okay,” he tells you, surprised at his own lack of embarrassment despite the situation. “The fact you notice all that about me is… flattering. You really have a way with words.” You return the grin he gives you and take his hand, squeezing it. “How could I not notice, when you are my intimate muse?”

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader

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bellarkeselection · 8 days

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1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

Part 2

The Venus Muse

Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.

Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever.

“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me.

She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.”

“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center.

The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?”

“It is not my place to speak on.”

I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.”

“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress.

The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected, to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates todayâ€¦”

My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return? We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”

Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”

“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”

Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “

“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off.

I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”

“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me.

I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.”

“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled.

My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.”

“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say.

Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.”

“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion.

She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.”

“Mother, Iâ€¦that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears.

Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back.

“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him.

He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.”

“Ohâ€¦” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness

That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first.

“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.”

“Exactly that would be a tragedy.”

The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds.

“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree.

Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”

Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”

“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face.

I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”

“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were.

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @ritz-hell-hotel

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alecvolturiswifeforever · 14 days

Note

Hiii ❤️ How about “i love it when you look at me like that” with whoever you feel matches this best?

The way you look at me | F.V x READER

warnings: none!

from this prompt list by @novelbear

ʚɞ

The guard was catapulted toward you before you could process it, flying straight into your middle and knocking you to the floor. You hissed, throwing him off of you and pinning the poor trainee to the floor, growling and hissing in his face as he flinched away. You barely heard Demetri egging you on, eager to watch you rip off another head however you felt thick arms wrapped around your waist, lugging you off and trapping you against a solid chest. You squirmed and kicked against him, senses in overdrive and brain on fight mode.

“Darling. Relax, you’re okay. Let’s take a break.”

Hissing in his direction he frustratingly closed his hand around your neck, scolding your feral behaviour and prompting you out of the door as he did so.

“You may be my mate and I may be more lenient with you but you know I won’t tolerate disrespect, Y/N. Calm down and move your ass.”

Holding your ground for a second you glared daggers at him before choosing to back down, senses less heightened now that you were out of the training room and in the hallway. A soft breeze of air brushed against your skin, small sun rays shining through the stained windows and lighting the shadows in deep shades of colour. The scent of your mate walking directly next to you filled your senses as you stole an unneeded breath, soft sigh allowing the pent up tension to finally release, and you came to a halt outside one of the common rooms. Felix halted also, rubbing the small of your back comfortingly and you pulled yourself close, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I am sorry for getting worked up,” You spoke against him “I don’t know why I still get so angry so easily.”

Felix sighed, running a hand up your back.

“It’s only been a year and a half, doll. Your instincts are still going to be on high alert.”

“Still, i’m sorry for hissing at you.” You pouted, and he smiled.

“All is forgiven, darling.” He watched as you pulled away, looking up at him with a wide smile on your face. The pupils of your eyes dilated as they took in every feature of his own face, your overdriven senses calming down as he brushed his thumb down the bridge of your nose. The movement rung out a soft purr from the back of your throat, closing your eyes contently before reopening them.

“I love it when you look at me like that…” He confessed suddenly, thumb still trailing across your face, now brushing your jaw. You pursed your lips, watching him.

“Like what?”

“With those big, beautiful eyes and that perfect little smile. You’re so beautiful, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve an angel like you.”

You tilted your head with a sweet smile, opting to press a kiss on his nose in response.

“You needn’t do anything but simply exist with me, my love.”

He was lucky you currently had your arms around him or else he feared he may have melted into a puddle right then and there.

“That I shall do, from now until the end of time, mon amour.”

ʚɞ

tag list: @your-next-daydream @agirllovespancakes @icefrozendeadlyqueen @iloveslasher @julesofvolterra @volturi-stuff

#felix volturi #felix volturi fics #felix volturi imagines #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi fluff #volturi x reader #volturi fanfiction #volturi imagines #volturi #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction #twilight #the twilight saga #alec volturi #demetri volturi #jane volturi

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darklydeliciousdesires · 6 months

Text

Immortal Beloved - A John Shelby/Vampire OFC Story.

Well, guys. It's happening. Kinda happening. Testing the waters, yep. We'll go with that. I'm not convinced it's any good despite my best efforts, so I thought I'd see what you thought by sharing the prologue. Who knows? You might love it and then I could feel a little much-needed cheer when I'm going through a bit of a black spot at present, but if not then I know I have to go away and work harder on it. Either way, your feedback matters to me, and I thank in advance those kind enough to leave it.

The story will differ slightly from canon here and there, as you will notice, but not so much that's unrecognisable. Slightly AU, shall we say!

Here we go!

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 1,956

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

Prologue

He stumbled, muttering cusses that fluttered off to permeate the silence of the night, rooting his feet as he straightened, pulling his overcoat around himself more. The cobbles underfoot already twinkled with a smattering of frost, the air thick with winter mist and pungent coal smoke, John feeling his pale skin tremble. The bitter December cold greeted him with her usual sting upon that night.

“Don’t get so pie-eyed that you don’t know what’s what, John. That goes for all of us.”

John Shelby wasn’t always the most proficient at following orders, especially when a bad business day had led to his arrival at The Garrison, a decision to sink nine whiskies one after the other and six pints, thus leading to him sitting there sloshed and grinning.

His troubles had been far behind him as he’d revelled in merriment, loudly championing to his cohorts exactly what he would like to do to Clara Bow, for instance, should he have the screen siren within his lustful clutches for long enough. He’d heeded Tommy’s advice to begin with, but on that day, the loss of over a grand thanks to a horse who should have lost, and a jockey with other ideas, his elder brother’s words of warning had fallen on deaf ears.

“Fucking Rasmussen’s,” he muttered, sniffing as he at least attempted to walk up Watery Lane in a straight-ish line. “Bastards can fucking try and ‘ave me, but they won’t. Fucking Geordie cunts.”

The Rasmussen’s, of the family Rasmussen, were a definite thorn in the side of anyone with the surname Shelby at that moment, the Newcastle criminal outfit currently making their presence known, and loudly. Barges that moved through the canal systems anywhere close to their areas within the north had been firebombed, their cargo sunk, Shelby bookmaking stands ransacked at the races, and threats to the family delivered with malicious intent; stay out of the north, or else.

The Shelby’s were not the type to simply back off, though. They were the type to be on their guard against any reprisal attacks, vengeance against the kind of Shelby retribution the likes of which had - after quite the bloodied brawl - sent the Rasmussen’s scarpering from a race meet in Derby two weekend’s past.

The family would not simply roll over and take the threat lying down, and neither would the Rasmussen’s. They were great in number, and where hand to hand strength lay, perhaps the most formidable in force that the Shelby’s had ever encountered. That strength did not seem normal, more deity gifted than naturally arising.

They bred ‘em hard as nails in the north, apparently.

As he staggered, lying down was exactly what John wished to be doing, once again standing to root his feet upon the slippery cobbles, looking up at a streetlamp which had begun to flicker slightly, the bulb then suddenly popping with an audible bang.

First assuming a stray bullet had been responsible, it was just the sobering shock he needed to quickly take stock, his sky-blue eyes scanning the darkened street for any kind of movement through the thick fog, drawing himself up taller as his hand automatically hovered over the gun nestled within his ever-present holster. Bang, bang, bang, another three streetlamp bulbs all shattered, plunging the lane into darkness, John feeling the effects of the whiskey diminish as his senses prickled on high alert.

He stood statuesque, his ears pricked, eyes still darting from left to right while his hand curled around the thick handle of the gun, primed, ready. They wouldn’t get the better of him, oh fuck no. He blinked, and a figure finally came into view a couple of hundred yards ahead, seemingly appearing from nowhere. He blinked again and saw that the woman dressed in white and stained with blood had moved again, John shaking his head in confusion.

It must have been the drink. People did not move from one side of the street to the other at such a speed, seemingly vanishing and appearing once more within a blink.

She appeared to be on high alert, John watching as she sniffed the air, a deep, foreboding rumble sounding through the night. He wondered whose dog was out at that hour, until it hit him; the growl was coming from her. It was a noise neither of human nor beast, an eerie, echoless reverberation, his heartbeat amping up a notch as he watched.

Another blink and she was once again moved, a tearing sound filling the air, followed by a shrill cry, gurgling noises, spluttering. Looking to his right, he witnessed the woman dragging a man who had been concealed within the shadows out into the street, her mouth clamped upon his neck. John stood motionless, his eyes widening as he viewed the scene, a cold snap of horror shocking his bones as he witnessed her yank the man’s head clean from his neck with frighteningly swift finesse.

His jaw began to tremor, his grip upon the gun in his hand tight as she walked to him, her fingers tangled in the black hair of the severed head she carried, a shock of crimson painting her chin and neck from where she had gorged upon the blood of the now lifeless, headless body slumped upon the cobbles.

“Who the...” he began as she halted before him, changing track. “What the fuck are you?”

Her lips curled into a smirk, holding the severed head aloft, blood and sinew dripping onto the ground below. “I am the one who saved you from Samuel Rasmussen. He waited for you.” Her head jerked back a fraction in the direction of the darkened lane. “Same as his three friends.”

The silken purr of her voice was so alluring, it almost overrode the fact that John stood so terrified, he honestly did not know what on earth to say next. Had he truly seen what he saw? Was this merely a whiskey hazed dream? Surely, he was about to wake with a start, a thumping headache accompanying the morning that followed such peculiar dreams, for this couldn’t be real.

Could it?

Dropping the head to the floor, her hand reached for him, John’s shaking grip upon the gun solidifying as he thrust his arm forth, attempting to press the barrel to her skull. He found himself disarmed faster than he could comprehend, the Webley revolver landing with a clatter upon the ground.

“Shhh,” she soothed, her enchanting eyes flitting over him, her long nails gently trailing his cheeks as she viewed him intently. “I mean you no harm.”

Studying her up close properly, it was then that he noticed them, the two long, pointed teeth in place of where her canines should have sat, the smooth white smudged with red. His heart pounded like a war drum, his entire body feeling light. The lithe muscles of his form pinched tightly in fear, yet a juxtaposing sense of calm seemed to swirl through him at her softly delivered words.

“You can trust me. I wish nothing more than to instil that within you.” What on earth was that accent? He couldn’t place it at all.

How exactly, he could trust a woman who had just decapitated a man with her bare hands after drinking his blood, he didn’t know, but he felt on an instinctual level that he could. Unless it was the whiskey. Whiskey, of course, had the power to lie.

The woman, though, seemed to be earnest in what she had told him, her nails stroking her cheeks as she studied him, her blue eyes flitting, taking him in. Oh, how she approved of what she gazed upon. He was magnificently handsome. Her nails stroked a hail of goose bumps over his alabaster skin, reaching his neck as she leaned forward, sniffing him. A contented sigh fluttered over her lips.

“Your blood smells like earth and fire, honey and dark orchids.”

What?

He frowned, perplexed, opening his mouth to speak. No words came forth. He was so overcome by her that speech was beyond him. It felt like she was pouring soothing waves of calm into him, and little did he realise, but he was correct. Her kind could transmit energies to humans in order to placate their fears.

Staring down at her, it struck him sharply, how much she didn’t quite look like she belonged there. Striking she was, with her milky skin that matched his own, her throat and chest covered in tattoos, symbols and swirls he didn’t recognise whatsoever. He knew tattooed ladies existed, but he was yet to witness one up until then, the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman smiling, her nails like sensual daggers upon his neck.

She was unlike anyone else he’d ever encountered, a woman of distinct enigma.

There was something about her that didn’t fit, decapitation and blood drinking aside. She looked as if she’d come from another time, a different age. This yanked at his interest almost as much as her allure, her pale skin seeming to glow beneath the light of the moon, now unincumbered by clouds as it shone its rays down upon them.

“You are perhaps the most beautiful creature I have seen in a long, long time.”

No, it was not he who uttered those words. It was the woman, her statement one of parting, John blinking and finding her vanished once more into the night. She’d left him breathless, with every hair on his body feeling like it was standing on end.

Vampires tended to have that effect on the living.

While the third youngest of the Shelby men made his way into their abode, the vampire moved at speed, perching herself atop the roof of one of the opposing back-to-back houses. The dark slate tingled against her bare feet, but being a creature of zero body heat unless she was sitting close to a source of warmth, it was of no bother to her.

She sharpened her senses to the night, listening intently to every noise, every rustle. A bottle rolled over and tinkled over the cobbles a few streets away, a gentleman a few further on than that regurgitated the many beers he’d sunk in a nearby pub into the gutter, too, but other than that, all was quiet.

Well, mostly all.

Within the homestead she had been watching over, she heard the brand-new object of her desire being berated by the woman named Polly, as she’d gathered. Closing her eyes, she saw the one she knew to be named John there in her mind, a throb reverberating through her. Goodness, how handsome he was close up, perhaps the most divine man she’d encountered in a while.

He carried himself with such pride and confidence, being a member of a notable criminal outfit, of course he would. A vampire of her age could tell so much more about a person, though, just by studying them, as she had with him and his family from the shadows. For all his acts of violence and authority, of which she had witnessed a couple, she sensed a man a little less ruthless than his elder brothers, with a heart a touch softer.

It was the softness within him that pulled her in the most.

She had gone there that night with the view of a single-minded agenda, only to encounter John Shelby up close for the first time and realise that her plight was perhaps not going to be quite as polarised as she’d first envisioned. Confident that the family were safe from any further acts of violent subterfuge, the vampire took one last look at the house.

“Until next time, beautiful creature.”

She was gone into the darkness within a blink.

#john shelby #john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #john shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic

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lightlycareless · 20 days

Note

Hey I'm sorry for spamming you again 😭

But... imagine Y/N and Naoya pulling this prank on Naomi. I get that Naomi would be so mad at both of them

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C1cVXQwrHjV/?igsh=MWhrd3pvdWt4Nml2dQ==

Hello!!!

Sorry for the late reply, but I have to say, this never left my mind. This was really cuuuuuteeeeeeeee!!!!!!! I just had to oblige omg and don't worry about spamming me, I love it keep it coming!!!

You know what I think? Naoya is actually the one to suggest this. By doing so is when when you know he’s completely accepted his role as a father and is enjoying doing so. Jfc thank you for sending in this NOW ONTO THE DRABBLE.

Warnings: none. Fluff. Naomi is a growing baby :’).

Naoya didn’t have any social media presence before you.

No, scratch that. He had a presence, only that it entailed stalking following you back then when he barely started to know you.

Once the two began to date, you convinced him to open up a proper Instagram, mainly so you could fill it with posts of you and him together, tag him on your pictures, and to make it easier to share things whenever the two are apart.

However, when you two finally have a beautiful daughter named Naomi, everything changes.

Besides opening an account of her own (only for friends and family of course, everyone else can jump off a cliff for all they care) to record of her day by day, from the cute matching outfits you’d dress her in, to her achievements, or simply anything she did that you found remotely funny.

Naturally, Naoya keeps up with every single thing that you post + all the messages you send him regarding his family; he is the first one to like and react and all in between as soon as you post them, and soon, he’s even looking for inspiration on what else to fill her feed with…

Or simply spend time with Naomi.

Thus, he begins to follow family content, accounts that suggest activities and places to go to with his lovely daughter… or innocent pranks to partake in.

That’s how the video came to be.

“What do you think? Shall we do it?” Naoya says, offering his phone to you.

“Oh… well, I don’t know.” You murmur, and not because you didn’t want to, but rather… “Naomi is too sweet, I don’t think she’s going to do anything besides giggle!”

“We don’t lose anything by trying.” He insists. “It’ll be funny if she does something, though. Might be able to record it too.”

“Alright, alright!” you quickly agree, not that really need much convincing. “We can do it once she wakes up from her nap!”

Thus, after little Naomi wakes up, as well as checking if she’s neither hungry nor in need for a change, Naoya is the first one to assume position, getting beneath the soft, warm covers and subsequently closing his eyes, ready to act as if he were asleep and let this prank begin.

“Go with papa, pumpkin!” you whisper once gently placing on the futon, just beside Naoya. She’d then begin to crawl over to him.

Naoya tried his best to not laugh at Naomi’s adorable coos and babbles, the ones clearly intending to call for her father’s attention, only to cruelly receive none of it.

She’d persist on by grabbing onto a handful of his hair and pulling it, hoping that by this he’ll finally stop acting the fool and look at her!

But after a few attempts, Naomi eventually gives up and instead does the most unexpected, cutest thing that either could’ve hoped, which was to nuzzle against his chest, close her eyes, and fall asleep once more.

How the two managed to not screech out of happiness is a mystery to remain, as well as his resistance to keep still while Naomi laid on him, perhaps the most difficult endeavor he had to endure in his whole life—no special grade mission could compete!

Either way, it was an adorable reaction that amounted to taking a few pictures, which both would fondly look at in the future.

Yet, your curiosity still demanded to know what kind of reaction Naomi would have towards you, thus, in another occasion, you’d replicate the same scenario although now in Naoya’s shoes, silently hoping that you’d also get a semblance of Naomi’s adorableness, not that you weren’t getting much of it any other time of the day, but you couldn’t allow yourself to be left out!!

So, you lay on the futon, with your husband placing Naomi besides you, doing your best to not giggle when she begins to prod at you, repeating somewhat of the same actions as she did with her father… though there was to be a slightly more aggressive edge to her actions, almost as if she’d caught onto their intentions and grew annoyed by it.

Perhaps… too annoyed, for this would be the first time either saw a new side of Naomi, the one that described far beyond a simple baby that radiated nothing but happiness and sunshine, a personality to be discovered, if not handled, because these negative emotions would be the first she’d ever experienced, and thus, ignorant on how to deal with them—unknowingly taking them out on you.

“Ouch!” you immediately shriek when Naomi’s small hand sharply slams against your cheek, repetitively doing so across your face until you eventually intervened by grabbing her arms. “No, don’t hurt mama!”

“Naomi!” Naoya gasps, quickly lifting her away from you. She whines, trying to fight against his hold while trying to reach out for you again. “No, Naomi, stop!”

“Nnghh bah!!” she protests, furiously trying to squirm her way out of his arms but failing. “Mah!”

“I won’t let you go back to mama if you’re going to keep hurting her!” Naoya declares, and for the briefest of moments Naomi seems to understand, enough for her to eventually quiet down and cease her rebuttal, but not from pouting or crying.

“Naomi… I would never ignore you intentionally!” you say, stretching your arms to hug her. Naoya lets her go with much hesitance, although by that point, Naomi could only express her regret. “It was just a silly prank, no need to be upset.”

Naomi pouts, as if embarrassed before resting her face onto your chest, sniffles eventually turning into hiccups.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s ok to hurt me, sweetie.” You add. “You hurt mama very bad.”

Naomi whines, and both know that even when young, she wholeheartedly regrets her actions.

Once tiring herself by crying, as well after eating a bit, Naomi would eventually fall asleep, giving both parents the perfect moment to ponder about what transpired and how to approach this situation.

“Why did she react that way? I never thought our little pumpkin had it in her, always so adorable…” Naoya sighs, crossing his arms as he relaxes against the wall while watching you prepare the food for that day.

“Well, not that you mention it… Naomi always whined whenever I had to peel my eyes off her.” You admit. “I thought she was being talkative, or simply acting like any other baby would when away from their mom, but I guess it was something deeper than that.”

“Who would’ve thought our daughter was the jealous type?” he snickers, you smile.

“Since she’s got you as a dad.”

“I’m not jea—”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Fine, alright. But I would never hurt you.”

“She’s just a baby, a cute, adorable one that is starting to discover her feelings and how to react to them.” You add. “Naomi must’ve been upset that we tried to do the same thing on her twice, when she just wanted to play.”

“Or that she called for us and we didn’t answer immediately.”

Like we usually do.

You sigh.

“Oh, I must’ve spoiled her horribly!” you cry. “I was advised against giving her too much attention, that it’ll make her more demanding and whatnot…”

“By whom? My relatives?” Naoya frowns, you look away. “I wouldn’t take advise from people that leave their children to their own whenever committing mistakes…”

“I don’t want to do something that will hurt Naomi in the long turn” you quietly admit, looking back at him. “But I’m also scared of reprimanding her, of seeing her upset!”

Raising a daughter was not to be an easy thing, as enthusiastic both were. Her fate, the way she’ll grow up to be, all the achievements she’ll obtain and more greatly rely on what you, as her parents do; in that case, there is no room for mistake…

But luckily for Naomi, she had both her mother and father wanting nothing but what’s best for her, and after understanding what needed to be done, the two began to help her channeling her emotions into something more positive—something that will hopefully branch out into sorcery when the time is right, Naoya hopes.

That didn’t mean Naomi would stop demanding of either your or Naoya’s attention (specifically yours) though in a less aggressive manner. She’d still a bit overzealous whenever others attempted to sway you away from her, (Naoya included) but that wouldn’t last long until she was doted on by the same people that tried to distract her—always loving the attention, Naomi was never one to deny them.

Though her behavior could sometimes become concerning, Naoya and you knew well to enjoy these short moments with her, for it wouldn’t be long before she’d grow up and leave these antics behind, just as most kids did, replacing them with a bit of… apprehension for said demonstrations of affection.

Or preference for pranks, that is.

“When will you two stop doing that?” Naomi would eventually ask after the nth prank that week—at first, they’d make her laugh, then confused, but now, irritated. As expected of a young teenager who wanted nothing but to not appear humiliating to her friends.

“Probably never, little pumpkin.” He answers with a chuckle. “Not when your reactions are hilarious.”

“And when will you stop calling me that?!” Naomi frowns, cheeks red. Naoya laughs once more.

“See?” he shrugs. “You’re not helping yourself, Naomi!”

“Ugh, whatever.” She rolls her eyes, turning around to leave. “Have fun with your lame and old jokes.”

“Old?? I’m not—I’m not old!”

Long are the days where adorable little Naomi would scurry to her parents whenever she could, chubby little hands reaching out for them so they’d carry her, giggling as soon as her cheeks where peppered with kisses.

But she’ll always remain their little one, the one that taught them love at first sight does exist, the wonders of parenthood, as well as what it’s like to be the embarrassing parent for once in their life—a bane they never thought to experience, thinking themselves to be cooler than average, a reality that was quickly shattered with Naomi's sharp refutal.

It's like a cycle, y/n and naoya preaching that they could never be uncool and then... Naomi comes along. hahahah

Anyways, I envisioned for a long time now that Naomi is quite aggressive when it comes to getting what she wants; she probably never shows that because you and naoya just endlessly dote on her—but it becomes quite apparent in situations like this, and of course, when she has siblings.

though with hard work and dedication that stops :> she learns that being jealous about something like that (something that she'll always have) is not the right way to go on with her life and it's also a waste of energy so, she moves on :) I wish naomi could stay a little baby forever tho, writing naoya and y/n as enthusiastic first time parents is 🥺❤️

I truly enjoyed writing this little drabble, it warmed my heart 🥺❤️ thank you so much for sending in this!! I always appreciate whatever you share with me 🤭 I look forward to the next hehe.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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writers-hes · 10 months

Text

the one i love most (a. bridgerton x reader)

helpful links: navigation | master lists | rules and guidelines | tag list | fic recs

But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends, I I knew you

(Warnings: cheating, folklore by taylor swift… angst), unedited

Kate was your dear friend but it was Anthony Bridgerton who had your heart. It wasn’t something that you meant…Anthony was just always there. He understood you in ways no one ever has. Maybe it was because of the friendship that you both fostered long ago. Two kids in his mother’s garden, playing hide and seek with his siblings. Your friendship was rooted on solid ground and nothing could have ever ruined it.

When Edmund Bridgerton died, it was you who helped Anthony through it all. He said it himself one afternoon while you walked through the lush green grasses of the park. You smiled and brushed it aside. He was your friend, it was the least you could do. Anthony was grateful for you. Grateful that you stayed in his life despite his shortcomings and his mistakes. You’ve always been there for him and he couldn’t just let you go so easily. It hurt him when you left. It broke him when you told him that you’d never want to receive another letter from him…he didn’t follow.

But everything hurt.

It started one night. You were in a secluded area in someone’s estate, attending the party under the guise of looking for marriage.

“My mother has been pestering me to find a wife,” he chuckled. “I don’t think I could marry yet. There’s so much to do…so much to achieve and I…” words fell from his lips as he watched you tilt your head sideways.

“What is it?”

I wanted it to be you. I want you. I want everything but I’m tied down to my responsibilities and I can’t just want you so wantonly without thinking about anything else.

“I am to attend a picnic with the Sharmas,” he sighed. “The younger sister…Edwina. What do you think of her?”

“Why does it matter? She’s smart, capable, and beautiful,” you replied monotonously. Edwina was all of these things but Anthony wanted something else.

“I think it is Kate who has my heart,” you heard him mutter. You looked up at him, hopelessness stirring in your heart. “But I’m not sure yet,”

“Shouldn’t love be as simple as knowing?”

Kate Sharma was the perfect match for Anthony and you couldn’t even deny it. It was there. They were written in the stars; foretold by the cosmos. You simply had no space in his heart. The shape of Anthony that you so carefully took care of would forever be his but you would never be. It was the same thing when he fell in love with the opera singer. He longed for her whilst he occupied your mind.

“But I want you…”

“Anthony?”

“I want you,” he said. “But if it is one of the sisters who I shall marry for the preservation of the honor of my family, then, I shall,”

Words died down in your throat. Were you not honorable enough for him? You shook your head as he neared.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the day I realized that I want you,” he whispered. “Will you allow me?”

One kiss turned into more kisses. Fleeting touches that occurred sometimes. He’d look at you sometimes while you laughed at someone else’s jokes. You’d look away when he’d dance with Kate. Soon, you were travelling the roads less travelled by; wearing Anthony’s garments as to not arouse suspicion. Soon, you were meeting an inconspicuous alleyway that led to a hidden cottage just outside of the city. Only the two of you before he marries Kate tomorrow.

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” you told him.

“But it is you who I want,”

“How many more proposals must I reject for you, Anthony?” you asked but he’d kiss you so you’d never have to think of it ever again.

Tomorrow, when you help Kate prepare for the wedding, you'll have a lump in your throat that you’ll try to swallow. When he puts the ring on her finger, you’d tear up because of how happy you were for the two of them. They’d never know the cross you’d carry in your heart; how terrible you’d feel because Anthony would never be with you. You’d never be his wife. He’d never wake up beside you ever again. You knew that he loved her and you only warmed his bed to keep him from the cold. He’d never know the guilt you’d carry for loving him while he loved someone else. He’d never know anything because at the end of the day, it was Kate whom he loves.

It’s been three days since he married Kate.

He seeked you out in all of those days. He’d come up with a smooth lie about his estate but he’d ultimately end up with you somewhere. He’d hike your skirt an inch higher than what was appropriate and when the sun sets, he’d walk away and let you go. Not today, though. You were set on telling him something important.

“A duke proposed to me,” you muttered while he fixed his belt. He looks at you.

“And what did you say?”

“That I’ll think about it,”

“Say no,” he says, sitting down on the bed, helping you with your corset. “Say no,”

“Why?” you asked. “I’m not getting any younger, Anthony,” you sighed. “My mother wants me to accept his proposal. It’s not everyday I get proposed to by a duke,”

“A viscount isn’t enough for you?” he asks, nibbling softly on your ear.

“No, it’s not like that. You know it isn’t,” you scolded, inching away from him but he holds you closer. “It’s just that…my prospects aren’t as great. Every year, my value dwindles down. This man…he’s kind and considerate. He’s not half as bad and respects me.” Every word seemed to stab Anthony’s heart, twisting it further and further until he was bleeding. “Besides, if I don’t marry, where else will I go?”

“You’ll have me,” he says. “You don’t need a duke to take care of you. I will,”

“And what of my family? What about Kate?” you asked. “Anthony, you’re only mine when we’re together. These clandestine meetings ought to stop soon,”

“Will you make him wait a little bit more? Until I sort things out,” he asks and you nod, your voice betraying you once more. You knew that you had to give an answer soon…but for now, you’ll allow yourself to take Anthony’s word for it. “I promise you’ll never have to look for somebody else to take care of you,”

Between the two of you, you both knew that things would be changing. Anthony has never faced a proposal from a duke before when it came to you. You were right. How many proposals do you have to reject just so you could wait around for him? He knew it was unfair for you but Anthony was a selfish man. He couldn’t imagine himself sharing you with somebody else. He couldn’t imagine losing you and if it took the heavens to come crashing down to do so, he would be more than happy to comply.

He watched as your carriage took you back home. For all everyone knew, you met up with Anthony by the park for an afternoon stroll. It was a daily occurence that shocked no one. Still, when he married Kate, the Ton wondered if these meetings would stop. The town moved on from one gossip to another but one thing was sure…they’d never get over how a married Viscount and a spinster from a respectable family met up every afternoon without lapse.

You sat in the drawing room of your house. You heard the whispers on the street. How shameless! You knew what they said about you but still, there was something inside your heart that bloomed whenever you saw Anthony. You’d never admit it to him and it seems that he’d never say it too but without the verbiage of confessions, you just both knew.

You hated how he made you feel sometimes. It hurt to know that no matter what you did, you’d never take things back. It hurt to know that you were hurting Kate too. She’d never hurt you the way you hurt her. Multiple times…over and over again. Anthony would never know the guilt that consumed you whenever you laid with him…the torment of knowing what’s right but doing what’s wrong because for him, what he was doing was right. He was a selfish man.

The next time you met Anthony with even more confusing feelings was a dinner hosted by your family. He was with Kate, happiness painting his face so effortlessly. Kate made him happy while you looked like you were dying multiple times. You flashed a smile when Kate found you. It was so natural, nobody would ever suspect a thing.

“Kate, you look so beautiful,” you told her. “Marriage life suits you,”

“Anthony treats me well,” Kate laughs. “I heard a duke has proposed to you…?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “I…said yes,”

“What? That’s amazing!” Kate exclaims but you shush her.

“It’s still something that we decided to keep between us,” you confessed. “A moment of peace before the Ton realizes,” You couldn’t look at Anthony who appeared beside Kate.

“Anthony, you can’t tell anyone but our dear friend is spoken for,” Kate whispers and Anthony could feel his world crumble. He showed it with a fake smile and a clench of his jaw.

“What?” he asked, incredulously. “You’re engaged?”

“Yes,” you whispered, looking everywhere but him. “I am,”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kate says, sensing the tension between the two of you. She knew that you were the closest among the Ton and you were the one to thank for how Anthony turned out. He only ever listened to you and she often wondered if his heart belonged to someone else. Maybe you…but you were engaged now. Surely, she’d never have to worry about that. About you.

“Let’s go,” Anthony says, taking your arm and then dragging you to your room. How scandalous. It hurt to think that for him, he could drag you everywhere else without so much as a word from you. He locks the door behind him and looks at you like you’ve murdered him.

“Is it true?” he demands. “That you’re spoken for?”

“Anthony—“

“Please…just tell me,” he begs. “Is it true?”

“It is,” you nod and he inhales a breath. “I was planning to tell you tonight. He’s kind, Anthony. You’d never have to worry about how he treats me,”

“Break it off,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“Break off your engagement. It’s my job to take care of you. While it’s early,”

You felt anger bubbling inside you. How could he ask that of you when he could never do the same?

“We can’t keep on seeing each other like this, Anthony,” you tell him calmly. “Kate loves you and I…”

“What about you? Do you love him?”

“I’m engaged to him,”

“Do you love him?”

“I’ll learn to!” you cried. “He’s a great man, Anthony and after we wed in England, he’ll take me away from here and bring me to Scotland,”

“What?” he asked. “He’ll take you away from me? What about me? What about us? You’ll forget about us that easily? Like we were nothing? You know that I need you here. Why are you leaving me? Do you not love me?”

“You can’t do that to me, Anthony,” you tell him. “I could have stayed with you for a lifetime if you weren’t married…but this—everything—doesn’t feel right anymore. I’m hurting Kate. We’re hurting her without her knowing and you’re hurting me.” you cried. “This is all too confusing for me and I’m afraid we have to let it end here,”

“We can’t. We’ve known each other in all of our years. You just can’t leave me here alone.”

“But you are married to Kate! It doesn’t feel right. Do you know what the Ton thinks? I used to think that we could just both run away,” you told him. “I thought about it but it couldn’t happen. You have your responsibilities and I have mine…”

“I need you here,” he begged, sitting down on your bed as you walked towards him. “Just stay here with me. You can marry him…just stay here with me, please,”

“Anthony…”

“Please,” he begs, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head on your chest. “You can’t leave me. You’re the only person in this whole world that gets me. You know me more than anyone else. You��re my person,”

“But I don’t know you anymore, Anthony. Ever since you married Kate, everything between us became purely physical. You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t kiss me the same way you used to. You stopped letting me in,” you said, stroking his hair softly.

“Please. I’ll be better. Kate may be who I am married to on paper but it has always been you,”

“So, why didn’t you choose me?”

Anthony stilled. You’d never know how much he wanted you. You’d never know how much he yearned for you. You’d never know how he had to stop himself from loving you completely because he believes that he’d never deserve your love. He didn’t want to marry in love and you wanted it more than anything. He was tied down to produce an heir. He never wanted to love but you took it from him. He’ll always be the first born. His responsibilities must come first before his whims.

“And then what? We’ll hurt two people?” you asked, hands on his shoulders to push him away. “Anthony, I’m so tired of hurting the people that I love,”

“Am I not who you love the most?” he asks in a small whisper. “You’re who I love the most,”

“So why did you marry Kate?” you asked, breaking away from him. “You’re telling me you love me now when you’re married to someone else. When I’m about to marry somebody else,” you cried, tears flowing from both your eyes. “I’ve done nothing but love you in all our years. I was so, so, so convinced that you were going to marry me. I rejected proposals and prospects because I was holding onto that thread so badly but you never once asked me for a dance,”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so, so, sorry,”

“If I asked you to run away with me now…would you?”

“Kate is pregnant,”

You could only chuckle as you moved from him.

“Kate is pregnant,” you nodded. “Kate is pregnant and yet, here you are begging for me to stay. You’re about to have a family, Anthony. Why can’t you see that we’re hurting the one we love?”

“Because I love you the most,”

“Kate is pregnant,” you reminded him. “Anthony, we should stop all the emotions that linger. I’m leaving England and you have to leave me too. We’d never be the same. We could never have our nights again. I am thankful for them, trust me…but this—this needs to stop.” you shook your head in disbelief and excused yourself.

Anthony watched as you left your bedchamber. He’d have to save face and attend your wedding soon but for now, he’ll allow himself to nurse his broken heart in the place where you broke it into a million pieces.

Marked me like a bloodstain, I I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #fanfiction #fan fiction #anthony bridgerton angst #angst #folklore #bridgerton #cardigan #fanfic #fan fic

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damn-stark · 3 months

Text

Chapter 23 You’re an Angel, I’m a dog

Chapter 23 of Sugar

A/N- WAIT WAIT— “I’ll never be a son.” And “I’ll never be his favorite son.” Fits Choso and mc to a tea especially in this chapter!!!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, spoilers, NFSW? Not really though it’s light, talks of miscarriage, SLOW BURN, heavy pining, long chapter

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Chapters 145 & 146, and the beginning portion of 203 & 207, of the Manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

This is Tengen? This tall pale thing?

You always imagined they’d be more majestic looking considering how old they are and the responsibility they hold, but they look more like a pale four-eyed alien.

“Aren’t you gonna say hello to me Tengen?” Yuki remarks after she was left out of his sudden greeting.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met Yuki Tsukumo.” They finally address her and they sound annoyed. “Why did you close off the tombs of the Star Corridor? I was afraid you might be in alignment with Kenjaku. After all, I cannot see into the human heart.”

Kenjaku? Who the hell is Kenjaku?

“Kenjaku?” You probe and slide your hands off Choso’s arms now that your fear has subsided.

“The sorcerer who was Noritoshi Kamo and is now inhabiting the body of Suguru Geto,” Tengen shares.

“That name suggests compassion and salvation. Gimme a break,” Yuki snaps.

“Master Tengen, why do you look like that?” Itadori suddenly interrupts, making your eyes widen with bewilderment.

“Itadori,” you scold.

“What?” He asks you over his shoulder as if that question isn’t obviously rude to ask someone.

“You can’t ask someone that,” you whisper sharply. “Even if they are centuries old. You can’t ask that.”

“I was just curious.”

“I may be immortal,” Tengen cuts in, making both Itadori and you look forward, but that was a mistake considering they tug on a creepy-looking smile. “But I'm not immune to aging. After 500 years, you’d look like this too.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust and mentally groan.

You’d rather die than look like that.

“Eleven years ago, after failing to merge with a Star Plasma Vessel.”

“Riko Amanai,” you cut in bitterly, making all eyes fall on you, including all four of Tengen’s—“considering she died trying to get to you, why don’t you have the decency to actually say her name.”

Tengen looks into your eyes, and no matter how intimidating they actually look, you don’t falter, you challenge them and stand by your ground.

“Riko Amanai,” they give in. “After I failed to merge with her my aging accelerated and my self-awareness as an individual diminished. The very world became myself.”

“And that’s why your “voice” doesn’t proliferate,” Yuki adds before Fushiguro raises his hand and politely interjects.

“Excuse me, but…”

“We came to ask about Kenjaku’s objectives,” Okkotsu continues for Fushiguro. “And how to open the prison realm. Will you tell us what you know?”

Your face drops the annoyed hardened expression and paints on a hopeful one as you wait for a solution to your brother's predicament.

“I wish I could simply say yes,” Tengen crushes your hopes. “But there is one condition. Yuta Okkotsu, Yuki Tsukumo, Y/N Gojo…”

Huh?

“…and the Death Painting Womb. Three of you must remain here to serve as my guards.”

You roll your eyes and press your hands on your hips as your annoyance returns.

For someone so mighty they still surely sound human.

And why do they need guards?

“Guards? Aren’t you immortal?” Okkotsu steals the words out of your mind.

“Are you worried about the seal?” Maki chimes in.

“No fair!” Yuki whines. “You haven’t even told us why or for how long we’d have to do it!”

“So then shall I speak of Kenjaku?” Tengen ignores Yuki and everyone else. “His objective is to force the evolution of all human beings throughout the land of Japan.

You nod. “Yeah, yeah, he yapped on about that,” you interject. “We want to know exactly what he intends. Why didn’t he use your barrier that time and turn everyone in Japan into sorcerers via Idle transfiguration?”

“He lacks the cursed energy to do that,” Tengen says. “Cursed energy that has been refined through Uzumaki cannot return to the sorcerer...”

Well, you knew that because of Suguru. You just thought Kenjaku would be different considering he’s old and he has the technique to jump into others’ bodies.

“…triggering an evolution in each individual with a cursed technique is incredibly inefficient. The method of evolution that Kenjaku has chosen is the merging of humankind and me.”

Is that…even possible?

“Is that even possible?” Itadori voices your same concern but in a much louder way.

“Isn’t that impossible for anyone but a Star Plasma vessel?” Fushiguro mutters his question.

“Yes,” Tengen nods. “The way I was before, but now that I have evolved for the past 11 years it would not be impossible for me to merge with someone other than a Star Plasma Vessel.”

Then they should have probably tried to protect Amanai more.

“But you’re only one person right?” Choso asks. “How could you merge with multiple people?”

“I am not what you see before you at the moment,” Tengen explains, making your eyebrows knot with confusion. “My evolved soul exists all around us. As I said, my self is now the world itself. A human who merges with me transforms into something greater than a sorcerer, as a new being that is both there and not there. I posses barrier techniques so I am able to maintain this form and self-control even after evolving. However,” they input. “If humankind evolves, and even if only one person rages out of control the world will end.”

You swallow thickly out of discomfort and shift your stance.

“Why?” Yuki inquiries.

“There would be no boundaries between individuals,” Tengen says. “So evil would spread instantaneously. The impurity of a hundred million people would flood the world. What just happened to Tokyo would happen to the entire world.”

“Why would Kenjaku do that?” You ask for the curious group.

Tengen shrugs stiffly. “I do not know. As I said, I cannot read the human heart.”

Hm.

“So why don’t you just refuse to merge?” Maki asks something that should be simple to solve. Tengen wouldn't be needing guards if it was that simple.

“That is the problem,” Tengen proves you right. “Now that I have evolved I am more cursed spirit than human being. That makes me a target for cursed spirit manipulation.”

You gasp in disbelief and your world then falls silent, and all you can think about is if Miguel was right.

“Considering Kenjaku’s ability as a sorcerer he might be able to seize me the moment we encounter each other,” Tengen continues. “That is why my main body is rejecting everything at the tombs of the star corridor.”

Was it your fault? All this? All because you couldn’t even look at his body after he died?

“And the reason you want guards, right?” Okkotsu asks, making Tengen nod in agreement.

“Yes. Kenjaku is the second-most powerful barrier user after me. I don’t know when he will undo the seal of the tombs.”

Tengen surely fails to answer a lot of questions.

“Why now?” You step forward to ask with growing concern. “Kenjaku prevented a merging with a Star Plasma Vessel and forced your evolution, and wants to consume and control you through cursed manipulation.”

“Apparently he was also involved with Sukuna,” Yuki bounces in. “So he’s been a sorcerer for at least 1,000 years, so why now?”

“I,” Tengen points at their chest. “The Star Plasma Vessel, and the Six Eyes, are all connected by fate.”

You blink and slowly your confusion is replaced by disbelief while realization slowly seeps through.

“In the past, Kenjaku has twice lost to sorcerers of the Six Eyes. The second time, he took no chances and killed the Star Plasma Vessel and Six Eyes less than one month after they were born. Nonetheless, on the day of merging, the Six Eyes and Star Plasma Vessel appeared.”

“Which is why he sealed my brother away, I assume,” you interject with your thoughts.

“Yes, after that Kenjaku switched to sealing instead of eradicating the Six Eyes and began searching for the Prison Realm,” Tengen shares nonchalantly. “Because two bearers of the Six Eyes cannot appear at the same time.”

Hm. Well, thank the stars for that.

“But then the unexpected happened 11 years ago when Toji Zen’in intervened. He was physically gifted through heavenly restriction and on top of that he was an anomaly who had escaped from cursed energy.”

You try not to but you steal a glance at the son of Toji Zen’in, whom doesn’t know thanks to your brother's lack of sharing. It explains his lack of reaction now too because of it.

It sucks! You need him to know already!

“As a human being who had escaped fate through the power of restriction, he destroyed our destinies,” Tengen goes on. “Then came along a boy with cursed manipulation.”

You drop your eyes and frown sadly at the ground.

“Suddenly all the pieces had come together except for the prison realm. Then even that fell into his hands six years ago.”

Almost like fate. Cruel fate.

“So why is the Culling Games happening?” Fushiguro asks, a bit distressed.

“It is like breaking the body prior to merging,” Tengen tells all of you. “It is not impossible to merge with someone other than a star plasma vessel but is highly unlikely and would be incomplete at present. The Culling Games uses the players’ cursed energy and the boundaries binding barriers in a ritual for conveying the human beings of the country to the other side. Through that custom, he will begin the merging with me. However, in order to perform such ritual, Kenjaku has undertaken certain binding vows.”

You know your answer to Tengen’s previous request now. It’s costly for you because you don’t want to be stuck and play a waiting game, but with Okkotsu here, now you can focus on getting Satoru out. So you drown out what they have to say about the Culling Games. If you have to somehow participate in them then you’ll ask for the rules and conditions then.

All that truly matters about them is that the games will continue until every player is dead or until they all refuse to play and die, and that killing Kenjaku won’t stop the games; so that plan is diminished.

You only bring your attention back when Tengen cuts Itadori off to get the answer out of who will stay

“I will stay,” Yuki, Choso, and you volunteer at the same time, making you happy that you don’t have to be stuck with Okkotsu, and that you’ll spend more time with Choso….and Yuki!

You shouldn’t be so enthusiastic, you have your protests after all, but your heart can’t help but jump.

“Yuji, you absolutely need Okkotsu’s or this woman’s cooperation,” Choso interjects seriously so Itadori can understand his brotherly concern. “Especially if Noritoshi Kamo—if Kenjaku comes for Tengen. Ending his life means salvation for my little brothers.”

“And rest for Suguru’s body,” you input your decision, gaining the attention of the room. “So I’ll stay here to help kill Kenjaku, and get the answer on how to get Satoru out.”

“And I’m not done talking to Tengen,” Yuki shares her reasoning for staying. “Is that all right, Okkotsu?”

Okkotsu nods and his eyes almost gleam with relief and joy. “Yeah! I don’t want to leave the others.”

You focus your eyes on Okkotsu and squint slightly before you interject in a menacing voice. “Okkotsu, you help Itadori, understand? Keep the promise you made to my brother.”

Okkotsu eyes quickly find you and his relief and excitement are quick to fall and be replaced by discomfort and nerves.

“Y-yes ma'am,” he quickly assures you, causing you to scoff and then look away to avoid looking at him more than you have to.

“Thank you,” Tengen once again speaks as they begin to reach in a black portal. “This…” they trail off and pull out a dull-looking box with a stitch on one side. “…is necessary for freeing Satoru Gojo.”

You perk up and slowly fill with hope and relief.

“It is the back of the Prison Realm.”

You blink and shift your gaze back to Tengen. “Back?” You question.

“I’ve never heard of that,” Yuki muses.

“You mean like a back gate?” Itadori is finally the first to understand something instead of being the first one to probe.

“Yes, that is right,” Tengen agrees as he keeps the back gate in their large hand. “Before Kenjaku found it, the prison realm was outside my barrier. I believe it was overseas. By sealing this rear gate, I was hiding the existence of the “front”, but it was no use. Satoru Gojo Is also sealed inside the rear gate.”

“Then if we open it can we—”

“No,” Tengen breaks Itadori’s hopes. “The authority to open the gate rests with Kenjaku as the bearer of the “front”.”

Which gives you more reason to stay!

“Breaking it open requires either the inverted spear of Heaven that nullifies cursed techniques or the black rope that disrupts and cancels cursed technique effects.”

The back rope? Miguel’s destroyed black rope?

“But Satoru Gojo sealed the inverted spear of heaven overseas 11 years ago…or destroyed it! Why’d you do that Gojo!” Itadori exclaims and Fushiguro follows to do the same.

“And last year Satoru Gojo got rid of all the black rope! Why’d that guy do that?!”

Okkotsu laughs nervously and you bring your hand up to bite the tip of your manicured nail since you can’t smoke inside.

“Miguel went to Africa in search of more black rope,” you share with the group. “But he found none…isn’t that right, Okkotsu?”

Okkotsu nods. “Yes, it was a fruitless effort.”

You groan and snap your gaze to Tengen. “But there is a way? Right?”

“Yes,” Tengen lets you sigh with relief. “Among the players participating in the Culling Games is a sorcerer from a thousand years ago who calls herself Angel. Her cursed technique can extinguish any cursed energy.”

“She can extinguish cursed techniques?” Fushiguro questions.

“Yes,” Tengen reinstates. “The Angel’s cursed technique can open the “back” of the prison realm.”

“Do you know where she is?” You ask.

“The colony in the east side of Tokyo,” Tengen surprises you by saying, it seems they tend to not know a lot of important answers. “The game barriers reject me, so I don’t have any more information,” he finishes as he puts the back gate back in their portal, leaving Satoru out of arm's reach.

Yeah, you can’t get him out without the sorcerer and her technique, but you were comforted by the fact that he was close, that you could see a part of his prison, but he’s gone again. And so your worry regrows.

Choso seems to notice your disappointment and very gently pats your shoulder.

His gesture surprises you considering you’re the only one who’s given physical touch, but you welcome his comforting touch and thank him with a small but sweet smile as Tengen starts to give more information on the Culling Games. Something you probably won’t participate in because you’ll be here, so you hardly listen.

You know that if you enter a certain colony you’ll be added as a player, players get points by killing other players, and if that player's points remain the same then they could lose their technique. That's all you really gather as your mind goes back to Suguru and your impossible choice.

Guilt begins to bloom where there wasn’t any, while Miguel’s words echo in your mind.

“And you were supposed to cremate Geto’s body,”

If you had picked his body off the ground before you left, all this could have been avoided. All these problems and these outcomes would have not existed if you had given him a proper funeral. But you got swept up in your emotions and left him there.

He would’ve taken your body, Miguel was right about that too, but you couldn’t do the same. Now this is all your fault…your parents…were right…you are a weak link.

“Y/N, Yuki, and Choso will remain here to guard Master Tengen,” Maki snaps your attention back to the room. “I will return to the Zen’in clan and collect cursed tools. Soon after Satoru Gojo was sealed the Kamo and Zen’in clans cleaned out Jujutsu High's cursed warehouse. But Megumi is now the Zen’in clan's leader.”

“What?!” Itadori exclaims.

“I’ll explain later,” Fushiguro mutters to his friend.

“Thanks to that, it’s possible to search the Zen’in warehouse at length, but first, Master Tengen?”

You look between the two completely lost on what’s going on.

“Understood,” Tengen interjects. “Juzo Kumiya’s workshop right?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Itadori?” You ask Choso as the kids discuss their plans. “Yuki and I can handle your father.”

Choso looks over at you at his side and responds. “I have to be the one to kill my father for what he’s done to my brothers. It's the only way they can be at peace. You,” he redirects. “Your people don’t need you? You’ve been gone from home for a while. And your daughter, will she be okay?”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile as you hear his concern. “Yes, my people will be fine, I trust the people that are in charge, and Satori will be fine where she is,” you let him know. “We’ll just have to miss each other for a bit longer, but this is for the greater or good.” You sigh deeply.

“Hm, she’ll understand,” he tries to assure you.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I hope.” You swallow thickly.

“Yeah, you guys go to Kinji as planned,” you hear Maki direct at Fushiguro, making you drift your attention back to the group of kids.

“Kinji?” Itadori asks for a person he could’ve met but didn’t because he was in his room the entire day.

“Kinji Hakari, a suspended third year,” Okkotsu lets Itadori know.

“Anyway we’re short-handed,” Maki adds. “So we got to rope in whoever we can.”

“Is that guy tough?” Itadori returns to the conversation about Hakari even after Maki tried to end it.

“Well,” you give your opinion. “He’s moody.”

Itadori slowly churns his head and looks at you with wide curious eyes. “You know him too?” He asks.

Choso and you share a teasing look, and then you nod. “Yes, he went to the house on the first. Not that you would know...”

“You were locked in your room,” Choso finishes your sentence.

Itadori narrows his gaze and looks between Choso and you as if trying to figure out what the two of you are getting at with your in-sync conversation.

“When he’s worked up, he’s stronger than I am.” Okkotsu shares, but he’s quickly turned down by Maki’s sly comment.

“That’s not true.”

You’d tell Itadori and Fushiguro to tell Hakari and Kirara that you sent them, even if you didn’t, but that advice wouldn’t be much help. So you just keep that to yourself and instead share something else that can help. “Hakari and Kirara are in an abandoned multistory parking lot in the Tochigi prefecture. He’s making money by becoming a bookmaker for gambling matches.”

“Gambling matches?” Itadori cuts in confused.

You nod with a proud smirk tugging on your lips. “Fights between sorcerers.”

Itadori’s eyebrows only furrow deeper. “What? That’s crazy. How do you know?”

“I’m his and Kirara's mentor. And when it comes to the fights I helped them finance the club.”

“Hm, so you’re like the Godmother?” He says without need for explanation which makes you excited.

“Yes!”

Itadori’s jaw drops and he leans over. “Do you fight?”

You grin and show off. “I’m their jackpot, honey.”

You don’t fight often, you’ve only fought a couple of times, but when you do fight you use your family name so there's always an anticipating crowd and a lot of money.

“The spectators are…” Fushiguro trails off for you to finish.

“Basically non-sorcerers.”

Both he and Itadori look at you shocked.

“Doesn’t that severely infringe upon the Jujutsu rules article 8, which is to keep confidentiality?”

You scoff and quip, “so what?”

Fushiguro and Maki both look at you with annoyance and they both mutter, “she’s just like her brother.”

Ew.

You scrunch your nose in disgust at their comparison, but you don’t say anything, you just give Fushiguro and Itadori one warning. “Among the participants of the gambling matches are some curse users, so be careful.”

Itadori is quick to nod and assure you. “Got it!”

You smile at him and Fushiguro and say your goodbye. “Take care of each other, hm?”

Fushiguro spares you a glance and gives you a stiff nod before he turns to leave with the other two, whilst Itadori gives you a thumbs up and follows the others out.

Albeit he then turns and calls out, “Choso!”

You look at said man with excitement for him, and he rightfully looks surprised by the call of his name from his little brother, but he’s quick to interject sweetly and with a charming grin. “Don’t die, okay?”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Itadori says before he throws Choso a wave, causing the nonchalant man to cover his face with his hand right away and sniffle?

Is he crying?

You give him all your attention and confirm your suspicion right away when you see his shoulders shake, and a tear slip past his large palm.

Yuki sees the same thing but she looks confused, whereas you can’t help but smile in admiration.

“Are you crying?” Yuki probes.

Choso waves her off, and you giggle and pat his shoulder to share your pride for the development with his brother.

“Oh, you could die happy now couldn't you, Cho?” You tease him as you lean your head over his shoulder.

He sniffles. “Just about.”

You chuckle and give his shoulder a squeeze.

At the feeling of your touch, he pulls his hand off his face and looks back at you with a watery gaze. “Can you believe it?”

You flash him a grin and nod. “I saw it. I’m sorry I couldn’t take a picture or a video. But there’ll be more times.”

“You think so?” He shares his doubts.

You nod. “I know it.”

His lips tug on a small smile and he nods in comprehension as he feels comforted by your reassurance.

Silence fills the room after that and welcomes an awkward tension. Not between Choso and you, or Yuki, Choso, and you, but between the three of you and Tengen.

“So,” Yuki rolls out. “Now what?”

“Where are we going to stay?” You ask as you look around at the white nothingness. “And what are we going to eat?”

Tengen sighs as if they're already over Yuki and you. “I have everything you need here,” they mutter.

“Hm. Okay.”

Well, this should be an interesting time…

——

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

“Oh, oh,” you exclaim and snap your eyes open to sit up—or try, you really strain yourself to sit up. “What about Cursed manipulation?” You muse softly.

Suguru slowly blinks his eyes open and sighs before he lolls his head to the side to look at you through the darkness of your room. “No,” he gently turns you down.

You pout and press your hand on his toned bare chest to lean closer. “Why not? That way you won’t feel so lonely with your technique. That way you can teach our child about your technique,” you argue your point.

A touched smile tugs on his lips and his eyes fill with love. “Baby,” Suguru coos. “I don’t want our child to share that burden. Having me carry that technique with me is enough. You know that.”

You drop your eyes on the beauty mark on his chest and gently trace it with your finger. “I know,” you whisper. “But I know how much you dislike your technique, and maybe a part of it is because no one understands. Having our girl have your technique will give you someone to bond with, a reason for your technique not to be such a pest.” You try to make him see the bright side you’re trying to let in.

But all Suguru sees is a more threatening darkness, and he doesn’t want his child to be cast with such an isolating and draining burden.

“What about,” Suguru rolls out as he slides his big and soft hand over your smaller one. “If she has your technique? Your technique is fun. A lot easier.”

You laugh softly and rid of all the lurking shadows Suguru saw crawling in his corner with a simple look in your eyes.

“It would be fun,” you go along with him as he pulls your hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“Come here,” he reels you in so you can lay down on your side and rest your head on his chest so he can gently massage your head.

“If our baby girl has my technique she will be pursued by your family, you know that,” he adds a warning you’ve been trying to forget for your sake.

You swallow thickly and murmur, “Satoru wouldn’t let that happen.”

Or you hope so.

“Yeah,” Suguru doesn’t hesitate to agree, but he still continues with doubt laced in his voice. “But you know they’d find a way. My technique is the only reason they let us date when we were in high school.”

You manage a tender smile and nuzzle your head in his chest, but quickly find your position uncomfortable due to the baby growing inside you, so you flip to your back and wrap Suguru’s strong arm around your neck.

“So,” you change the subject so you don’t spiral in your anxiety that tends to poison you when you think of your parents taking your child. “Have you picked a name yet?”

Suguru leans his head on yours, letting you feel his throat vibrate on your head as he hums. “What about Satori?” He shares. “It means enlightenment.”

Just like Satoru’s name.

——

*NOW*

“And you were supposed to cremate Geto’s body,”

Those words keep ringing in your head like a bad and out-of-tune echo

You had made peace with the choice you made that day. You made his funeral with nobody to mourn and you were okay praying to his portrait in his shrine, but now your past plagues you and you can’t stop the guilt from consuming you.

All this death, this chaos is happening because of that one choice you didn’t make.

All the distress everyone’s living through is because of you?

“Y/N?”

You slowly twist your head towards the door and see an upside-down Yuki stopping under the doorframe.

“Are you done talking with Tengen or are you still glowering?” You remark teasingly.

Yuki scoffs and breaks away from her spot. Yet before she can join you on the bed, you quickly interject.

“Turn off the light. My head hurts.”

“Too much wine?” She quips with a snicker as she does as you ask before she moseys on over to jump on the bed.

“Yeah,” you groan and cover your eyes with your arm. “I was doing some work and was chugging that wine…”

“And now you have your head hanging off the bed,” Yuki finishes for you in a scolding voice. “I wonder why your head hurts.”

You slap your hand on your stomach and lose your gaze on the blue hue painted on your ceiling by the fake bright night sky Tengen made for all of you. Which is kind of neat and nice….you have to admit.

“You know,” you add as you get lost in thought. “It feels weird staying here. I mean we’re not above ground on school grounds, but we’re still here, and it’s weird.”

“Yeah,” Yuki muses. “Takes you back doesn’t it?”

“Hm—Oop I'm getting lightheaded now,” you mumble and throw your upper body up to drag yourself forward on the bed and then throw yourself down when you’re at Yuki’s side.

“I mean to have a cute guy fawning over you with their dreamy brown eyes is so weird,” she says in a mocking way you instantly recognize and try not to give into, but you can’t help it. You drag your eyes to your side and see she’s already passing you a teasing look.

“Har-har,” you feign a laugh and mistakenly prove her right, so she continues to push.

“Oh you could die happy couldn't you, Cho?” She changes her voice as she bats her eyelashes. “Now I’m going to bat my pretty white Gojo lashes at you, and speak in my very fancy voice which seeps with my lust for you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and shoot her a pointed glare. “I don’t talk like that,” you remark and avert your gaze.

“You do,” she yells. “You talk in a very old money, old movie star kind of way, which if someone wouldn't know you, they’d think you’re snobby, but I guess he likes that because he drools over you with whatever comes out of your mouth.”

Your heart swoons and begins to dance all giddily, causing a smile to start tugging on your lips, but one you try to fight back.

“It’s not even like that,” you mutter in a very shaky way because of how bad you are at hiding the excitement that she is making you feel. “Shut up,” you blurt and flip around to give her your back. “I’m 28 now, I don’t giggle,” you grumble.

“Oh,” Yuki snorts. “You giggled.”

You don’t comment and watch the stars twinkling in the distance with a smile winning its territory on your face.

“Do you,” you quietly give in to your feelings, this once, out of excitement. “Think it’s obvious?”

“Not to him.”

You nod softly and welcome more silence as you let your heart gush over Choso and this conversation.

However, then Yuki's impression of you crosses your mind and you can’t help but burst out laughing. And as if in tune with your thoughts Yuki joins, and you both just laugh your asses off until you’re both out of breath.

When you collect yourselves you don’t continue to laugh however, your smile falls and you lock your feelings away, forbidding your heart from them.

It’s cruel, but it’s for the best. It’s for his sake. And no matter how much your heart weeps and begs for you to show it some sympathy, you won’t give in, you can’t give him more thought, or else you will fall and you’ll give into a happiness you don’t deserve to feel.

You prove that to yourself now, in the silence that fills the room once again, while your mind sinks back in your guilt.

Guilt you need to express before you’re overwhelmed. “Yuki…do you think…all that’s happening is my fault?”

Yuki shifts and her big brown eyes bore in the back of your head. “What do you mean?” She questions.

You let out a deep breath and turn around to face her with a watery gaze full of pain and guilt. “All that’s happening,” you clarify. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? Because I couldn’t burn his body when he died…” You trail off and feel your bottom lip tremble. “…he was my husband, I should've taken him with me and burned his body, but I left him there and Kenjaku got him because of it.”

Yuki looks into your eyes for a moment longer before she sighs and begins to share her thoughts. “You should’ve burned his body, that’s true…”

You gasp and feel like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.

“But,” she adds. “It wasn’t your fault. None of what’s happening is your fault. You should’ve burned his body because he was your partner, you should’ve given his body a resting place, but he was also the man you loved, y/n, losing him was hard. I understand why you couldn’t do it, but what happened because of that is not your fault. Kenjaku was probably already creeping around him, waiting for the right moment, it all would’ve happened eventually.”

Her answer doesn’t assure you, it doesn’t take away the agony you feel now.

“But—”

“No,” she cuts you off. “What ifs don’t exist. What happened, happened, but you are not to blame, do you understand?” She presses with a threatening narrowed glare. “This is not your guilt to carry. And you know damn well your brother and Suguru would never want you to beat yourself over it.”

Tears roll down your cheeks and you answer with a soft nod.

“It’s not your fault,” she insists as if she could see your reluctance to let your guilt go. “It’s not your fault, y/n.”

Her words strike against the guilt and work to stop it from spreading, but in order to get rid of it indefinitely you’ll just need time.

“Okay,” your voice quivers.

Yuki offers you a sweet smile and grabs your shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze that makes you smile faintly in return.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Her smile turns to a smug grin. “Of course. I’m always here for you, y/n.”

You reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, letting the silence settle, and for a comfort to finally set in your heart.

Not only that but at least now you can sleep too without having to be attacked by all your thoughts, thanks to her. You really owe her a lot.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT. CHOSO P.O.V*

A knock raps on the door, pulling him from his slumber and putting him on instant alert. When he drifts his eyes to check the clock, the bright numbers read 2:06 am, so whoever it was must come with urgency.

Thus, he gets out of bed and walks over to open the door, and see that it’s you in your night attire.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He immediately asks with concern.

You assure him with a quiet response so as to not wake up Tsukumo. “Yeah, yeah, I just…” you trail off and glance at the ground. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Choso’s heart skips a beat and his mind completely falls blank at the sound of the vulnerability you were letting him see.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” you quickly add as he stays with his mouth ajar. “I can go.”

“No,” he quickly finds it in him to snap out of his stupor. “Come in.”

A relieved smile grows on your lips and when you walk inside he sees your shoulders lose the tension they held, meaning you felt comfortable being in his presence, which makes him happy to see. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable when you’re around him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat in a more sweeter and apologetic tone. “I know it’s late.”

Choso shakes his head and quickly assures you. “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

You peer back and flash him a content smile before you turn and walk back toward the bed with a faint smirk. “Your hairs down,” you point out. “I like it. It looks nice.”

Once again his heart skips a beat in its rhythm, but this time a fluttering grows in his stomach that makes his face grow hot. Which is embarrassing to him, and it always happens when he’s with you.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he holds your gaze that lights his room in a way the fake night sky never did.

“Are you sure you're okay?” He makes sure to ask again.

You sit on the edge of his bed and nod. “Yes,” you smile. “I’m fine, Cho.”

The sound of that short nickname coming out of your lips sends shivers down his spine he never knew he could feel by the simplicity of a nickname.

“Okay then,” he says and glances at the bed and then at you. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the ground.”

You laugh softly and drag yourself back to one side and pat the other. “Come lay with me, we’ve spent enough time together already for it to be weird.”

His face grows hotter and his heart instead begins to pound in his chest.

In all the times you’ve spent alone you're always sitting across from each other, on a couch, or at a small distance side by side, you’ve never shared a bed. He almost wants to say no out of respect for you, but he doesn’t want to wound your feelings. Plus you did say you wanted company, so he slowly approaches the bed and climbs back on his side.

“If you're not comfortable then don’t listen to me,” you let him know so he doesn’t feel forced. “Please.”

Choso turns his head and meets your red-orange eyes mixed with worry, so he assures you right away. “I don’t mind. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You share a soft laugh and he can’t help but let his lips tug to a faint smile.

“Choso,” you whisper now in such a soft and vulnerable way once again.

“Hm?”

You let out a deep sigh and first roll to your side before you continue. “Will you help me? Keep me safe…please.”

You didn’t even need to ask, he already put himself in charge of that the moment he recognized you that night in Shibuya, but hearing you ask him this now just has a way to make the feelings he already has for you, intensify. He can’t even put into words how content he feels, and what other feelings are racing through his veins.

It’s like you set him on fire.

“Always,” he assures you right away.

Your lips tug to one of those sweet smiles he likes to admire on you, and suddenly, again, just like other times before, his eyes—no his whole being feels magnetized to your lips.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he reinforces his statement.

“You promise?” You ask for reassurance as you, yourself can’t raise your eyes off his lips.

“I do.”

Instead of smiling this time, you lean in and he gives into the force attracting him to you and parts his lips to give into his desire.

Yet, before he can know the feeling of your plush lips on his, everythings gone in a flash and his eyes snap open to see an empty room, and his hard member bulging through the blankets. Again.

It seems that he always feels a pressure within him that lit his veins with wildfire whenever he thought of your lips, your soft skin under his fingertips, your body under him or over him, your perfectly sculpted face so close to him that he could feel your breaths unfurl over his lips, and or whenever he dreamed of you…like now.

And his dreams always varied. Sometimes they were sweet like the one now, but other times he dreamed of you in ways he figured out shouldn't be had by friends and always woke up with the same throbbing pressure that ached for you because of it.

At first, he didn’t know what it was he felt, his body just set on fire, making his blood rush, and causing his member to rise and grow hard to the point it throbbed when you appeared in his mind. It wasn't until he was being nosy one time and found his answer in some pages in a book he peeked in after he saw you keep smiling at it as if it held some juicy secret.

He just wanted to know what was so interesting and why you read it so much in your free time. He won’t do it again, he knows that for sure.

Now, as to how he cooled himself down? He waited sometimes for it to pass, or he went to go get some water and fresh air, hoping not to run into you.

Like he will do now because recently waiting hasn’t helped, all he feels is the need to relieve himself to the thought of you. So he gets up and leaves his room and hopes you’re not out there.

——

*YOU*

The night is cold, especially because you’re underground.

But that’s what you get for being here as some bodyguard to an enlarged four-eyed thumb.

You just want to go back to your house and finally sleep in your own bed! You miss it all terribly.

And you miss having a warm body sleeping next to you. Sometimes you’d sleep at the furthest edge to avoid the contact, but in the back of your head, you always knew there was someone there to comfort you. Now all there is a cold and empty spot.

Maybe…no, that can’t be possible. You’re too much of a horrible monster to deserve anything good. He’s too good and his heart is too pure. You’ll just corrupt him.

But—no! No.

“Ugh,” you groan and flip around to groan some more into your pillow and keep your face buried.

Maybe this way his handsome nonchalant face and his precious eyes will leave your mind alone.

Nevertheless, the door of your room suddenly opens and when you turn to face the entrance there walks in the man you were trying to stop thinking about.

“Choso,” you call out in confusion.

He usually knocks and waits for you to open the door, or for you to invite him before walking in, this time he just barged in completely out of breath.

“Y/N,” he speaks in a deep silky voice that makes goosebumps grow on your arms.

“Choso, what’s wrong?” You ask as he keeps looking at you with his eyes darker than usual.

However, he doesn’t answer you, he just walks to you and stops when he’s at the edge of the bed, making you grow more confused, but also causing your heart to start racing out of what you can only describe as excitement over his proximity and boldness.

“I want to be with you.” Choso breaks his mysterious mask and takes no time to climb over you on the bed. “Always.”

You swallow thickly and let your eyes flicker between his eyes and his pink lips that radiate his warmth and tempt you to close the gap.

“I want you to be mine,” he murmurs against your lips, making your heart burst, sending your blood to race through your veins and catch your body on fire.

“Choso,” you whisper and keep your eyes on his lips, refusing to lose sight of them, as if you were some addict seeking their next high.

“Will you let me?” He asks as he grazes his lips on yours, making you gasp and feel a growing need in your core that begins to weep for him.

“Yes,” you give in so easily and see him smile before he presses himself closer to let you feel his hard member against your throbbing core.

“You’re so…beautiful,” he muses and finally gives in to your temptation by pressing a kiss on your lips.

Albeit you can’t describe the feeling of his lips. It’s like nothing pressed against you. But instead of questioning it, you fuel your need and wrap your arms around his neck to smash his lips against yours again.

“Y/N,” he groans against your lips.

You listen to your heart and deepen the kiss, feeling his hips roll against you.

“Choso,” you moan in his mouth.

He utters your name and pulls back, but presses a hand on your cheek to not lose contact. He parts his lips again to say more but suddenly you can't hear him, and everything around him and you slowly goes to black until suddenly you’re yanked back into a void that blinds you for a second before you suddenly open your eyes and see the ceiling.

There’s no Choso and no warmth, just the ceiling, and an empty bed, meaning it was a damn dream!

A sex dream no less that just leaves your heart lonely and disappointed, and your panties wet whilst your pussy throbbed over nothing.

Great. Great!

You should’ve not even accepted the mission! Choso is everywhere now that you don’t want to think about him or his pink and inviting lips you want to taste. His pretty sunkissed brown eyes you can get lost in. The veins on his hands you want to see when he grabs onto your thighs, his defined shoulders you want to cling onto, and his beautifully sculpted abs you want to press kisses on…

Maybe…

Just maybe you can just think about him until you satisfy your need with your fingers…

No! No! What are you thinking?!

Why? Why now?

You can’t think of him like that! You can’t just let your body ache for him, you told yourself you wouldn't, so sorry to your heart, but no!

And if you stay on your bed you will fall into temptation, so you get out and march out of your room.

Alas, when you walk out you let out a sharp gasp when you run into Choso!

“Sorry,” he immediately throws out as he steps back and turns away from you. “I-I didn't mean to scare you.”

You clutch onto your heart for a different reason and quickly assure him. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” you murmur and make the mistake of meeting his gaze, but you can’t hold it so you yank your eyes away because of the dirty thoughts you just had of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks and that only works to reignite your desire.

“Yeah.” You nod and bring your eyes back to his gaze, and realize that he never looked away. He keeps looking with a deep intensity that you can’t look away from now and works to restart the pulse in your core.

“I just need…water,” you lie, making his jaw go slightly ajar.

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Me too.”

Great…

“Now I won’t be alone,” you play it off and lead the way to the kitchen in a loud silence in which all you can do is dart your eyes from his hands, the hall, his lips, ahead, his baggy shirt hiding his defined torso, and the approaching kitchen.

When you’re going to reach for a cup he beats you to it and reaches for two, causing you to watch how the veins form on his hands as he grasps onto the cups.

Before he can hand your cup though, to avoid letting him catch you staring, you walk over and take the water jar out of the fridge to pour some into the cups he puts on the counter for you. Once you fill his cup you pick it up and hand it to him, realizing when your eyes land on him that he’s been watching you.

“You know,” you fill the silence and turn away from him to lean back on the counter. “We might as well be drinking air, considering earlier today we walked into a white canvas, and moments after that a house appeared out of thin air.”

Choso shares a small laugh, making your smile widen.

“Well,” he says. “At least we'll go insane together.”

You chuckle with him and then say, “yeah, lucky us,” before you trail off softly and bring your cup to your lips to drink, missing the way Choso couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

When you bring your cup down you look over at him and he looks away and drinks. “Your hair’s down, it looks nice,” you tell him, making him gulp, and for his eyes to widen.

You think it's just him getting flustered so you don’t probe and instead continue and let your heart lead the way. “You know when we fought I saw you kind of lacked in hand-to-hand combat. I could help you if you want.”

Choso lowers his cup and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to burden you,” he doesn’t try to turn you down, he just doesn’t want to bother you.

“I don’t mind,” you quickly assure him. “I think it’ll be fun actually.”

Your eyes find each other and he unfurls a deep breath before he lets himself give in. “All right. Thank you.”

You walk to the sink and dump the water from your cup because it’s not water you needed, you needed air to keep your mind off him, but well…

“Good, we start at 8 am,” you let him know and leave the cup to turn on your heels. “Don’t be late.”

“Well,” he says lightheartedly. “There’s nowhere else to go, so. I couldn’t even if I tried.”

You laugh just like he wanted.

“Good night, Cho,” you tell him for a second time tonight.

He watches you walk away and speaks softly as if out of breath, “Goodnight y/n,”

You offer him one last smile over your shoulder before you leave the room.

Instead of returning to your bedroom though, you end up outside to finally catch some fresh air and lose your gaze on the beautiful wave of colors that rocked over the ground as if they were ocean waves, and slowly feel all your concerns and desires slip away like they would when you admire the lake by your house, or the oceans you like to travel to.

Even if you’re stuck underground, in a place that can weaken you, you don’t feel distressed, you feel…bliss in the peaceful silence.

And that is something you haven’t felt since October 31st. So you relish in it while you can before you’re faced with more disaster.

You could actually sleep out here, but in the back of your head, you do worry that something will come out of the walls, or from the surface and drag you to some depths of hell or something so you just sit back and watch the aurora borealis accompany the starry sky.

For a while longer at least because then you hear something creak behind you and you have to look out of fear it’s some kind of demon.

Luckily though it’s just your tempting desire that plagues your mind often; Choso.

“Are you spying on me?” You tease him with a playful glare.

“I,” he stammers as his cheeks grow pink. “No. I saw someone out here. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t unwanted company.”

You ease the teasing glare and offer him an assuring look. “I was just messing with you,” you let him know. “Now.” You pat the spot beside you. “Why don’t you forget we said goodnight to each other and sit with me.”

Choso steps away from the back door and shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Pft,” you brush him off with a flick of your wrist. “It’s our thing you know? Us being up late and keeping each other company. I’ve grown to really look forward to it, so come if you want I don't mind.”

You should mind. You really definitely should.

“Well,” Choso breathes out and hides his reddening cheeks by looking at the ground. “Only if it’s alright with you.”

“It is,” you reassure him.

Choso’s eyes flicker to you and he sees that you hold no ill will so he takes you up on your offer.

“You know,” you muse when he takes his seat. “That the brightest star, The North Star, is right there,” you share and point to the bright speck on the sky just above your heads. “And if you find it you’ll always find home.”

Choso’s gaze lingers on your smug little smile before he follows your finger to the biggest star in the sky.

“Or at least,” you scoff. “That’s all that stuck from what Kira told me.” You laugh softly. “They told me about all these cosmos and nothing really stuck, but that. So if you’re ever lost just find the star.”

Choso blinks and mutters, “what if I’m lost in the day?”

You snort and look at him with amusement. “Then you’re shit out of luck.”

Choso laughs and you laugh with him for a long moment before you clap and interject excitedly. “OR OR, you can always tell yourself this, Never,” you point ahead. “Eat.” You point east. “Soggy.” You point south. “Waffles.” You lastly point West and grin over the fact you remember that catchy phrase.

However, Choso doesn’t understand so he just looks at you with his thick eyebrows deeply furrowed.

“North, East, South, and West,” you clarify. “Belinda taught me.”

Choso nods in comprehension and nods slowly, but you can still see from his slightly scrunched-up nose that he’s still confused.

And you are too.

“But I guess it wouldn't make sense if you don’t know where North is…so,”

“We’re both lost?” He finishes for you as he meets your gaze with his lips picked up into a faint smile.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’re both lost, so it’s a good thing we have our mobile devices,” you mock him, and he catches that right away and shoots you a pointed look that only lasts for a second before he turns his head away as he can’t help but smile.

“No, but really, home is not far from here. Home is surrounded by trees to keep the community kind of hidden, it’s big for obvious reasons,” you say with a smile. “And, I actually thought of a perfect home for you and your brothers to stay at.”

Choso’s eyes snap to you admiring the colors in the sky turning from blue to red, and his jaw slightly drops. As if this is the first time he’s heard of this plan you told him hundreds of times already.

“It’s just above the lake, so close to me but not too close either,” you continue to say, letting him watch how the red hue consumes your face in such a majestic way—“it’s the house surrounded by the most trees so you get more privacy. And it’s not big enough to fit all of you, but you can build onto it. I think that’d be fun.” You look away from the sky and immediately find his softened gaze. “Don’t you think?”

Choso blinks repeatedly to break from the trance you casted on him, and shakes his head. “We’ll be fine,” he tries not to concern you, but you argue back right away.

“No, you’ll need your own space. You all will. Trust me,” you laugh dryly. “I know, because one, brothers date your best friends and break up with them, causing said friend to drop you because you remind them of your brother and they can’t handle that,” you ramble about your own past instead of actually advising him. “Two, they steal your hair products and always forget to buy you more after they finished them. They tease you until you cry and play cruel pranks in front of their friends to act cool. And lastly, they buy your child a pony without asking you first.”

Choso scoffs in a judgy way and queries the same without shame. “Your brother does that?”

You roll your head forward to watch the red hue become fiercer in color, and sigh deeply. “Yes. But you can’t blame him, we’re barely a year apart, so our dynamic shows that,” you defend your brother.

“Our parents got excited after they had their boy,” you share. “So they chose to try for another in hopes it would be another strapping boy, but I came out, cockless and became their headache.” You snicker.

There was so much Choso wanted to say to contradict you and comfort you after you just brushed off your parents disdain since he knows that feeling of saying you don’t care but deep inside it hurts. Yet he can’t form the words to say it the way he wanted, the way you would’ve comforted him, he instead tries to relate to you so you could know that there are similarities between the two of you.

“Sometimes I don’t think it matters what gender you are. I turned out to be a man along with the rest of my brothers, and Kenjaku didn’t care, he still left us like trash.”

Your heart sinks and your smile turns to a frown.

“Parents are like that if you don’t fit their perfect ideals,” he mutters.

You lay back on the grass and keep your eyes on the stars behind the red hue while your mind sadly agrees with what he said.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “They are, aren’t they? Do you…” you hesitate and let out a deep breath to let out some of that tightness in your chest that had begun to grab ahold of you. “Ever think what it would be like if you were ideal in their eyes? I think I would be less afraid, and I wouldn't have pushed myself so much.”

Choso stays quiet as he tries to come up with something he’s often thought about in his time in the void.

“I…would’ve been out 150 years ago,” he says softly but in a voice laced with spite and anger. “And I wouldn’t be as strong as I am now. I honed my technique because he left us.”

You look at aurora borealis slowly shifting to yellow above your heads and whisper, “I’m sorry.” Causing him to lay back to show his confusion better—“I must sound ungrateful and bratty compared to what you went through. That was real pain. I’m sorry.”

Choso’s eyes narrow to express his remorse before he interjects in the best way he can. “No, you don’t. Not to me.”

Tears fill your eyes and you can’t help but share a soft smile as you finally feel understood. Suguru tried to relate to you saying his parents never understood him and that they became distant, but that was just a teenage phase for him, he never really understood you. Not in the way Choso can.

It’s why it makes indulging into this dark topic a lot easier.

“Can I ask how it felt being stuck there?” You bring up timidly hoping it doesn’t upset him.

Choso lets out a deep breath through his nose and narrows his gaze on the sky, looking almost like he wanted to damn the sky because of the past that flashed through his mind.

“I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off before you can finish your apology, and clears his throat. “It was…dark. Like when you close your eyes and see nothing but pitch darkness. I felt my brothers, their presence, but I was still alone because we couldn’t talk, or exist, we just felt each other nearby. And the years for me didn’t pass quickly like it would for them, I felt every year pass by,” his voice quivers, and you see tears rush down his cheeks, making that ache you had already begun to feel only hurt deeper for him.

Even if you can’t know his pain, you still feel for him, especially as you see him cry.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you murmur and wipe away the tears that broke out of your eyes to scoot closer to him and grab his hand, going unaware of his shiver the moment your warm hand touched his cold one.

“You’re here now though,” you try to comfort him. “You’re out, under the sky and with a beating heart, working every day to give your brothers peace.”

More tears run down his cheeks and you’re tempted to wipe them away, but that might be too intimate for you trying to avoid developing your feelings, so you just let your heart yearn and let him wipe away his own tears.

“Thank you, y/n,” he whispers in a sweet way that makes your heart start to race. “You’re sweet. You always have been to me. Thank you for that.”

“You deserve it, Cho.”

The corner of his lips twitch to a timid smile, and you hold each other's gaze for a lingering moment as all your hearts do is yell to give in to what you both so desperately want.

Alas, you both don’t listen to your yearning. You let go of his hand, and look back at the sky while you slowly grow somber as you grow the confidence to share something personal now that you’re being vulnerable with each other.

“Can I share something with you that only my best friend Kento knew?” You ask first.

Without hesitation, he answers. “Of course.”

You let out a shaky sigh and clasp your hands together over your chest to fiddle with your nails. “Last year a month before Suguru died, we found out we were expecting,” your voice grows softer and shakier as you fight your tears. “And then he died and…the baby went with him.

No matter how hard you hold back from crying, tears cloud your eyes and stream down your cheeks.

“No one knew,�� you add. “It was too soon to tell anyone, so we kept it a secret we would have shared later on. It never happened of course…” you trail off.

“I’m so sorry,” Choso says right away.

You wipe away your tears and meet his worried gaze. “It’s okay, I've made my peace with it,” you say.

Choso’s hand twitches out of a need to cup your hand the way you comforted him, but you kept your hand on your chest and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by reaching over your chest, so all he offered you was assuring words even if his face expressed pity and agony because of the pain he saw in your eyes. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You could say otherwise, you could bring up multiple pieces of evidence, but you don’t want to argue so you answer with silence.

“But why,” Choso interjects, catching your attention. “Why did you share something personal with me? Me out of all people, I’m—”

“My friend,” you cut him off before he can talk bad about himself. “And I shared this with you because I find it easy talking with you. Because you’re someone I can confide in.”

Choso swallows thickly and leaves a longer silence than he intended because of his disbelief over your words which only heightens his burn for you.

“Is that okay?” You check in.

He blinks and nods softly. “Yes. It is. I find it easy talking with you too.”

You can’t help but smile and reach over to grab his hand. “Promise me something, Choso.”

Said man is left speechless so he nods.

You then proceed to fold his arm over his chest to press his hand on his heart.

“You have a good heart,” you tell him something you know he doubts. “Promise me you’ll never lose it. Hard times will come, but you’re strong, keep your heart. Promise me.”

Choso’s bottom lip trembles and his eyes glisten, only letting a couple of tears fall before he nods even if he's still hesitant to believe your kind words that have never changed.

“Good,” you whisper and let his hand go to rest yours back on your chest.

You did such a terrible job at keeping him out of your mind. You suck.

“We have to get up early today,” Choso reminds you after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

“Yeah,” you make no attempts to leave, and neither does he. “We’ll pay for it in the afternoon.”

“Hm.”

——

*LATER THAT MORNING*

His fists are too tightly clenched and he has his feet too dug in the ground. He’s too tensed up.

Which isn’t strange to see, when he uses his cursed technique he’s always fighting fiercely. But when he’s fighting hand to hand he needs to loosen his body up more to move swiftly when the need calls or else he’ll be an easy opponent. Like now.

Instead of advising him right away though, you charge forward. When you get close you spring forward and throw your knee at his face, but he manages to barely swerve and causes you to land with your back to him.

You quickly spin around and in that moment catch him trying to swing his leg at your head, but you manage to trap his leg on your shoulder and throw your leg forward to kick his crotch, causing him to grunt and pull his leg off to stumble back.

You don’t wait for him to get better, you lunge forward and kick him to the ground before you drop down and straddle his waist to swing your arm over his face. But stop just before you can actually hit him.

“Dead,” you exclaim with a proud smirk. “Again.”

“Tsk,” he complains.

You get off him and grab his arm right away to help him back to his feet and finally share your advice. “You need to loosen up. You're too tense.”

Choso reaches for your elbow, but doesn’t make contact, he lets his hand hover under your elbow as he listens.

“You’re an easier target that way,” you continue. “You make yourself harder to move.”

“Sorry,” he says as if he was in trouble.

“Don’t apologize, it’s training,” you assure him and let his arm go to pat his shoulder and walk back to your spot to continue. “Let’s go another time and then we can take a break so you can watch Yuki and me next.”

He sighs with disappointment at his failure, so you rebuttal.

“Cho,” you press and turn to face him across the circle. “It's okay, you'll get better, that’s why we’re training.”

Choso rolls his shoulders back and lifts his fists, whilst you bend your knees a bit and clench your fists.

“Lighter on the feet,” you remind him before you run at him and hop again to bring down the strongest part of your arm on him, your elbow.

However, Choso crosses his arms and blocks the impact, making you smirk and pull your other arm back to throw him a left hook that he blocks again.

“Good,” you compliment, and then use your knee to jab his stomach and push him away from you.

This time though he doesn’t give in to the dull pain. He counters by coming at you by swinging his arm, making you dodge, just like he wanted, and quickly follows up by overwhelming you and throwing his other fist, and actually managing to nick you on the jaw before you could dodge.

“Good,” you mutter with a menacing chuckle before you shoot him a pointed glare.

Choso mirrors your glare and gets ready for your attack. Albeit instead of meeting him with a blow, you actually wrap your arms around his waist and then swing your foot back to smack your heel on his face.

Choso groans from the pain in his nose, and you try to swing around him to hug him from behind, but he wraps his arm around your neck to keep you in a headlock.

You try to squirm away, but he squeezes tighter, making you groan and dig your nails in his skin.

Choso doesn’t react to that though, instead, he brings his knee up to your stomach twice. But, he doesn’t demonstrate a finishing move, so you swing your legs around his waist and rock up with all your weight, resulting in you on the ground and him on top of you in a very uncomfortable position only because of the way his arm is still clung around your neck.

Not like it mattered to your racing heart and your need for him though; a heat still unfurls within you. While he falters.

Yet neither of you give into your desires, you ignore them and use your strength to roll back on the ground and throw him over you.

The both of you then quickly get up to face each other again, deciding not to waste a second and charging at each other.

The moment you’re close you swing your left fist, but he claps his hand together and throws his arms up to block your attempt.

“Nice,” you say between pants and get a smirk from him.

Nonetheless, you proceed to shift to the side to smack your hand on the back of his neck and push him down before you wrap your arm around his throat and throw your knee up.

Choso however, manages to block you and smacks his hands on your hips to swing you around as he turns so you can let go.

And you do but you then show off how flexible you can be after years of training, and wrap your legs around him with your back still pressed against his chest, and flip you both to the ground.

“Nice, that was quick thinking,” he compliments you between his own heavy breaths.

You snicker and don’t let get him off easy, you throw a jab over his face and swing over him to throw another hit, but he snaps his head to the side and makes your fist slam into the ground.

“Damn,” you hiss in pain and get off him to stay on your knees. “Damn.” You complain again and shake your hand.

Choso pays you no mercy, which is good, he shouldn’t because this is training and the second complaint was fake in hopes he’d worry. So you’re proud that he swings his leg. But since you were faking it the second time, you throw your upper body back to dodge and plant your hands on the ground behind your head to swiftly hurl yourself back to your feet using just the strength in your arms.

Now instead of giving Choso time to counter, or even attempt to move, you swing your leg. Choso catches your action and puts his hands out and claps them together out of instinct to use his technique, leaving you with the great opportunity to kick his face and send him to his knees the moment of impact, just out of the pure strength behind your swing.

And just to finish this round you walk around him and point your fist at his face. “And that’s dead.”

You drop your arm and offer him your hand.

Choso meets your gaze with no ill feeling and takes your offer, letting you pull him to his feet.

“Did that hurt?” You worry about him now that the session is over. “I’m sorry, Choso.”

Said man holds his cheek and covers how red it’s getting. “It’s nothing that won’t heal. You were great, y/n.”

You give your gratitude with a sweet smile before you grab his wrist and yank it down to pull him over to the bench. “You won’t heal right away like I can due to my RCT, which means it stings. Trust me I know. So let’s just put some ice on it.”

Choso parts his lips to argue since he will heal, but he can’t turn you down so he lets you sit him down, and just watches you wrap a towel around cubes of ice before you very gently press the cool towel against his cheek.

“Those were some nice moves,” you fill the silence so you can avoid getting lost on his handsome face and his pink lips just inches away from yours. “I like how you grabbed my hips and swung me around. That was quick thinking.”

Choso sits up straight and huffs. “On that last move, before you hit me, I pointed my hands out—”

“I saw that!” You exclaim and jump out of excitement. “You were totally going for a piercing blood!”

Choso chuckles softly. “I was an idiot. I could’ve dodged.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah especially because I kind of fumbled my footing there.”

“Really?” He asks and raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t see.”

“No.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Because you were going to shoot piercing blood.”

Choso snorts and snickers, making your heart skip a beat, and your smile to turn to a beaming grin.

“I…I did see a difference when I changed my stance and lifted some weight off my feet,” Choso let you know.

“Really?” You probe curiously. “You liked it? I know some people prefer the additional weight. It makes their swings harder.”

“Well, if I add the weight when I hit instead, I find it smoother,” he says and you nod.

“Yeah, I do that too, that way I can move fast without being too tense, but making my impacts harder when I use that weight with my swings instead,” you share.

“Hm.” He hums.

You laugh softly down at the bench. “I was trying to trick you after I smacked my fist in the ground,” you let him know.

Choso’s eyebrows quirk up and he shoots you a puzzled look.

“I faked that second damn to try and distract,” you explain.

“I knew that,” he now claims, making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“You didn't know shit!” You argue and playfully push him away.

A teasing smile tugs on his lips and he just continues to say a bunch of shit out of the high of the moment you’re both stuck in. “I knew not to check on you.”

You shake your head as you laugh, and he furrows his eyebrows and brings up a question. “Does that usually work?”

You shrug. “Sometimes, depends on who I’m fighting. But it’s not to check on me, more so my opponent let their guard down because they think I got weaker.”

“Hm. Well, it’s smart then,” he tells you softly.

You mutter, “thanks,” sweetly, and then your phone suddenly starts to ring, so pull away and grab your phone from your sweater draped over the bench.

When you check who it is you smile when you see that it’s Belinda.

“I’ll go,” Choso tries to be respectful and give you space, but you grab his wrist to assure him it’s okay before you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You greet in a sing-song voice as all you see is a wood ceiling. “Who am I talking to?”

A few seconds of silence pass before you hear your daughter's sweet voice. “Mommy!”

You grin. “Chipmunk,” you greet. “What are you doing? Why am I looking at a ceiling?”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles before she picks up the phone and finally shows her face to the camera. “Hi,” she greets again with a wave this time.

“Hi,” you don’t fail to return. “What are you doing?”

Satori flashes you a grin and points the camera at some long strings of dough. “I’m making pasta noodles,” she reveals. “Belinda's mom said that it’s important I know because I’m a girl.”

Of course, that lady would say that. Tsk.

“Oh,” you feign a laugh. “That’s…cool. You having fun?”

“What are you doing?” She cuts you off and stares hard at her screen to try and figure out the answer to her question.

“I’m training,” you let her know, making her pull back and smile again. “Actually,” you add with a growing grin. “I’m here with my friend, Choso.”

You proceed to shift so you can show him off to your daughter.

“Choso this is Satori,” you introduce him to the most important person in your life. “Satori this is Choso.”

Choso glances at you nervously as if trying to make sure it’s okay before he looks at the camera and offers your daughter a small smile. “Hello,” he greets nervously.

Satori's dark eyes narrow as she studies his face for a moment before her face eases and she smiles sweetly. “Hello,” she manages to greet without shying away since she’s behind a screen. “Uh, my mommy talks about you a lot.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly turn away. “Satori,” you quietly scold her.

“What?” She asks without understanding why you’re acting the way you are. “You and daddy always said to tell the truth. I did.”

You sigh deeply knowing you can’t say anything about it now so you just bite your tongue and wait to correct her tomorrow.

“Anyway,” you change the subject. “Satori how was your trip to—”

“Oh, Mom I have to go, I'll call you before bedtime, bye.” And just like that she ends the call and leaves you hanging.

“Well,” you clear your throat and don’t touch on what she blurted to him. “You met my daughter,” you say and shift to face Choso and press the ice back on his cheek that isn't as red as it was moments ago, but it still is swollen.

“She looks like him doesn't she?” You ask.

Choso swallows thickly and drifts his gaze away to nod before he looks back at you with a timid but soft look. “She has your smile though,” he says.

You’re caught off guard and feel your breath hitch softly before you show your flustered smile to the bench. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hm.”

You let out a small breath and then look back at him. “Does it hurt less?” You ask with concern.

Choso nods. “Yes, thank you. You’re sweet even though I will heal, I told you.”

“Pft,” you blow out. “Then heal right now.” You urge him to prove you wrong.

Choso narrows his gaze. “Well, it’s not how it works.” He argues.

You scoff and smirk. “Well until then I’ll worry if I want to.”

Choso’s chest rises and you know what he’s going to respond with so you beat him to it.

“Hm.”

Choso shoots you a pointed look, making you snicker as you hold his gaze.

And since he wasn’t really upset, he can’t hold back from sharing a soft smile while he gets lost in your eyes, building the tension that had already made itself a home between the two of you and urged you to just break it with an act of a kiss, or a confession.

But neither of you do, you just torture yourselves and sit in silence where only the two of you existed before suddenly Yuki’s excited shout breaks you away. “Who's ready?!”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Sorry I’m late,” you make your presence known as you slide the door open to the parlor room where you’re supposed to brainstorm a battle plan.

“We haven’t started…” Yuki trails off to scoff, making you pick your eyes off the ground to watch her stuffing her face with crackers. “You’re wearing a kimono?” She says teasingly.

You flick your wrist. “Don’t make a big deal,” you brush her off and sit beside her and across from Choso.

“I hardly see you wearing them,” Yuki ignores you as she props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand to lean towards you. “What’s the occasion?” She asks with a smirk.

You shoot her a pointed gaze knowing this was only about one man. “I wear kimonos often, they’re comfortable, especially when I’m on my period, like now.” you don’t give in to her taunting. “Do you wear them?” You raise a brow.

“Sometimes,” she shrugs you off.

“Well,” Choso interjects, stealing your attention away from your mentor and notice that a soft blush painted his cheeks. “I think you look very nice, Y/N.”

You can’t help but smile as you smooth out the red robe that didn’t hang tightly around your body, it fit comfortably since you were just staying indoors today.

“Thank you, Choso,” you redirect softly.

Said man swallows thickly and offers you a soft nod as you continue to hold his gaze until you feel Yuki nudge your knee.

You pinch her back under the table, making her snicker before she pinches back a bit too hard.

“Ow,” you whine and smack her hand. “Some master you are.”

Yuki chuckles and takes a sip from her tea, whilst Choso just ignores your and Yuki’s doings, and instead directs his question to you. “Would you like some tea, y/n?”

You perk up and nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

Choso grabs your empty cup and gets up to walk to the kettle, causing Yuki to mock him speechlessly.

“Mature,” you mouth and just ignore her as you fold your arms over the table to rest your head on your arms. “You know I was supposed to go to a gala today,” you murmur sadly. “I was going to wear a beautiful and expensive gown, and get all dolled up.”

“Oh, really?” Yuki probes. “Were you going with anyone?”

You smile. “Nanami to introduce him to a model slash sorcerer friend, and Shoko to get her out of work for a while. And Satoru had invited himself along, so he was going to go too.”

“Ah the media would've eaten you and your brother up,” Yuki points out. “I can read the headlines now, the ever so mysterious model, y/n, finally showing off a bit of her life tonight at blah, blah gala.”

You snicker. “Yeah, and he would’ve gotten carried away.” You can’t help but share with a bit of actual sadness that you couldn't actually see this day through like it was planned. It would've been so much fun.

“Here,” Choso interjects as he falls beside you to hand you your tea.

“Oh, thank you, Cho.” You thank him while you reach for your cup, and accidently brush your fingers over his as you take it from his grasp.

Choso offers you a nod before he retakes his seat at the same time the door opens and Tengen finally walks in.

“About time,” Yuki remarks as she sits up and folds her arms over her chest.

“Sorry, there’s much to do,” they excuse themselves while they take their seat. “Since I am late, why don’t we save casual mingling for later.”

You scoff and bring the hot cup to your lips. “We weren’t going to mingle with you,” you say bluntly and take a careful drink, realizing at that moment that the hot tea that seeped into your taste buds is prepared exactly as you like it. It’s exactly how you prepare it…

Did Choso know this from just watching you prepare your tea during those nine days?

“Gojo,” Tengen speaks in such a booming and yet elegant voice. “I know what Cursed manipulation consists of, but some of your peers aren’t aware, why don’t you share what you know since you lived with Suguru Geto.”

You swallow your drink and put the cup down. “Well,” you sigh. “There’s no limit to how many cursed spirits he can hold, but last year in the fight people call The Night Parade, he unleashed a majority of his curses. Meaning,” you add hopefully. “Kenjaku shouldn’t have many, I mean Suguru spent his lifetime collecting them, so it’s doubtful Kenjaku could’ve restored Suguru’s stock in a year.”

“What about the religious facilities?” Yuki asks. “He got curses from the non-sorcerers that worshiped him.”

You drop your gaze to your cup and shake your head. “No, I closed them all down, there was no need for them after he died.”

“Then why does Kenjaku still dress like a monk?” Choso spats.

You look at him across from you and bounce off him. “That’s what I'd like to know. I mean sure before he revealed himself it was to keep up appearances, but now? Who knows.”

“Kenjaku is tactical,” Tengen interjects and ignores the conversation between Choso and you. “He’ll find a way to work with the curses he gathered and what he had left.”

“Then let me go first,” Choso cuts in, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion, while your stomach knots together out of worry.

“You’ll die if you do,” you blurt without thinking.

Choso doesn’t notice the concern laced in your voice or the perplexity behind your eyes. “Then would you and Tsukumo fight against Noritoshi Kamo, three against one with me?”

You and Yuki share a look, but rather than expressing nonchalance like her, you share your growing concern.

“I’d be in the way right?” Choso continues to share. “So I’ll go first, draw out his cursed spirits, and get him to reveal information. If I can get him to open his domain…”

Then he’ll die. Does he not want to see that? Does his life mean so little to him?

“Then Kenjaku will have difficulty using cursed techniques,” Yuki adds in for him. “That’s when Y/N and I strike.”

“Exactly,” Choso agrees.

“I’ll say it again then,” Yuki repeats. “You’ll die.”

Choso doesn't look bothered or upset by the warning, he’s fucking nonchalant and it starts to upset you. You can’t even try to fight it for the restriction you put against yourself. The concern you felt twisting your insides, developed into anger that seeped through your veins and slowly spread out.

“I don’t care as long as we kill him,” Choso argues nonchalantly, making that anger pulse and pump faster throughout your body—“For me, my brothers, and the sake of my mother's curse, which makes up half of me and my brothers. For Yuji’s future as well.”

That anger now makes your heart pound and your jaw clench.

How dare he bring up his brother's future if he doesn’t even plan to be in it? Does he not want to stay with him, spend time with him, and fight for his survival? Why does he want to throw his life away like it meant nothing? Like it doesn’t matter?

You should be asking yourself why it upset you so much. With him gone at least your desire will fizzle out and you’ll stop thinking about him and a future you lost sight of when Suguru died. But your anger reached your mind, and clouded your reasoning, judgment, and critical thinking altogether.

All there is is pulsing anger mixing with your concern, so you can’t keep your mouth shut anymore, you interject to express emotions. “So what? You’re just going to leave Itadori here? Alone? Without you? After you just found each other.”

Choso blinks and slowly sits up, whilst his face shows his perplexity over your emotions.

“Y/N,” Yuki tries to stop you.

“No,” you spat and pierce a glare into Choso. “Why should I sit here and listen to him planning to kill himself? There’s other ways. I can help you, you don’t have to throw your life away.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ve lost so many people I care about,” you cut Yuki off with your voice shaking with anger and…fear. That’s what you felt too. That’s what you recognize coursing through you too.

“All in a span of a year,” you continue, leaving poor Choso just more confused and baffled—“why should I let someone else I care about die?”

“Because,” Yuki argues, but you keep looking deeply into Choso’s eyes. “It comes with our lifestyle. You know that more than anyone. Sure, you had a privileged upbringing, but you also grew up in this world, it comes with sacrifices. If you don’t like that then you can leave, I told you that already. Do you want to leave?”

You hold Choso’s gaze for a moment longer, and he parts his lips and looks at you with just soft disbelief now. It seems he wants to add something, but you drop your eyes and don’t let him interject. “No, Master,” you mutter.

“Good,” Yuki sighs. “Now you two listen to our plan.”

You tighten your grip around your cup and pierce your glare in the light brown tea as Yuki shares a plan she came up with Tengen. You have no protests, you’re okay with what she planned for you to do, so you never interject, nor does Choso. He just chimes in after she’s done explaining.

“Hmm, dismantling the domain huh?”

“You come after that,” Yuki clarifies.

“No, I should go first,” Choso insists, making you roll your eyes but stay quiet now.

“Domains are powerful but burnt-out cursed techniques afterward,” Choso continues. “So there’s a risk that your cursed techniques will be hard to use after a while. I know you and Tengen want to exploit that, but he won’t open his domain if he expects me to leap in. Even if beats me once it’ll convince him that the fight is only against you, Tsukumo, and y/n.”

“Alright fine,” Yuki finally gives in. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you mumble and take a sip of tea.

“And Y/N can’t use her fire-snake technique,” Choso protests. “Noritoshi has the advantage of knowing her every move thanks to who he’s inhabiting, he’ll see it coming and kill her.”

You almost choke on your tea, but you manage to navigate down the right pipe before you finally break your silence. “He’ll try to kill me either way because of it, I won’t be safe regardless.”

“Then let me help you,” he volunteers without hesitation. “I’ll fight what he tries to throw at you.”

The words you were going to share right away get stuck in your throat as you breathe in sharply. And that anger you held for him is forgotten for a moment as you’re now shocked.

“No,” Yuki argues for you, snapping you out of your stupor. “We stick to our plan. Y/N can handle herself. You can help when it’s your time to come out if you want to so badly.”

“Right.” You clear your throat and let your anger rush back. “I have my supreme art technique that I never showed Suguru. Trapping Noritoshi in my domain won’t work, he’ll probably overpower me, so I’ll use my supreme art technique to tire him out for Yuki.”

Choso narrows his eyes and probes with concern laced in his voice. “And you’ll have enough energy to fight after?”

You nod as you swirl the tea in your cup. “Yes, I will,” you assure him. “I’ll be okay.”

Choso looks unsure about your reassurance out of concern, but he also trusts you and believes in you, so he doesn’t argue.

“Great!” Yuki exclaims. “So we all know what we’re going to do? No protests?”

Yes, one, Choso’s willingness to sacrifice his life. It still pisses you off and makes you want to cry and fight him, but you’ve been told off already. And he doesn’t seem to want to listen, so you bite your tongue and let the plan be. Even if your heart…begins to ache.

A/N- If you think about Choso and mc have not spent a day apart since Shibuya

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest

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yve-barr · 4 months

Text

Promise braids -part 2

Just wanna say I hate this so much but y'all deserve something.

Part one is here 👇

https://www.tumblr.com/yve-barr/721480354297495552/promise-braids?source=share

I might right a part 3 but honestly part 2 took a lot out of me.

@goose-gremlin love you gurl! Tysn for hyping this up for me❤️

@maeriel-arnosel you too 🤗

I'm so sorry everyone else who wanted tagged it's just not working 😞

Warnings: legolas, injury, shitty writing on my part, adult theme?, lil rushed, violence, smut, public sex,

When the time came for you both to rise from the floor and say goodbye you felt your heart sink into your stomach. So little time had been spent between you two.

You both walked to the door, a fresh braid in your hair.

"I shall miss you my love," you whispered to him in elvish.

"as I shall miss you," he hugged you tight and snuck kisses along your neck.

Then he joined Gimli and Aragorn outside.

"you know I happen to own a certain cloak that makes the wearer completely undetectable to those she does not wish to find her."

"and what about an unbetrayed heart? Because I happen to be in need of one," you sighed.

"no I don't however I do have a spare horse if one was to need it."

"I can't go with you," you looked him dead in the eye.

"why not?"

"because he needs to know I'm safe," you replied honestly.

"then stay safe with him," the old wizard smiled, and you returned it.

"he wouldn't let me leave," you could feel giddy butterflies in your stomach.

"then wait for us to be out of sight then head northwest."

"thank you," you grinned before dashing off to gather your things.

By the time you had everything together and changed into riding clothes the others were well on there way. Checking you had everything you glimpsed the bow legolas had trained you with many years ago.

Grabbing it you brought everything outside.

Just as you packed everything onto the horse Gandalf had left you, you heard a horn blowing of in the distance. Your stomach dropped.

The orcs had arrived.

Your heart in your ears you quickly mounted your horse and directed her north west.

You could hear the beginnings of fear as screams rang through the town.

You felt sick to your stomach as you kicked your horse's sides and galloped off.

Praying you'd made it out in time you glanced back at the town which was gradually being ingulfed in flames.

You let out the breath you'd been holding.

You rode faster up the steep hill, when you turned around you saw them the orcs unlike any you'd ever seen.

Bigger, stronger, scarier.

They had swords the size of ponies and spears to match.

The archers had bows the size of saplings. The arrows as sharp as broken hearts.

The same arrows that were souring through the sky.

Quickly you forced your horse faster, but not fast enough.

You could hear the others. They had stopped in a valley with a lone tree near the edge and a small stream gurgling around.

There chatter blurred almost as much as your vision as you slipped from your horse. Hitting the ground with a thud.

***

Legolas turned his head picking up his bow as he went.

"what are you doing?" Asked Aragorn.

"I heard something," legolas answered simply.

Quietly Aragorn, and Gimli followed him.

Then legolas saw you lying on the ground your breath coming in uneven gasps.

"Y/n," he rushed towards you dropping his bow and arrow to the ground. He picked you up in his arms.

Then he saw the blood streaming from the arrow wound in your lower back.

"She's hurt," Aragorn called to Gandalf.

"Bring her to me," Gandalf called and legolas sprung to his feet almost running over to the wizard.

Your eyes fluttered open as legolas placed you down on your stomach.

"I have something that may help," said Gandalf and he took a small bottle filled with a clear liquid out of his pocket.

"will it hurt her?" Legolas asked.

"extremely," replied Gandalf. "I need to access her back."

Legolas undid the laces at the back of your dress top, leaving your back exposed but he made sure your breasts would be mostly hidden.

"elavate her head and chest so she can breath," Gandalf said.

Legolas shifted so that your top half lay across his lap, his legs crossed.

Then Gandalf removed the cork from the bottle and poured a little of the liquid onto the wound.

It smoked and sizzled. And you screamed.

Legolas tried to comfort you by holding your hand and stroking your hair but it did nothing.

Pain racked your body as the liquid entered your blood stream and ripped its way through your entire being.

Gandalf flinched away momentarily before pouring more liquid onto the gash.

You screamed louder.

"STOP!" You screeched. "PLEASE!" Legolas bent over you holding you tight to him.

Gimli turned away and Aragorn stared at the ground.

"please make it stop," you whimpered tears stinging your eyes.

Gandalf looked at you simpatheticly.

Your wound had disappeared leaving nothing but a faint red mark.

Legolas tied your top closed and sat you up in his arms cradling you into his chest.

"I'm sorry my love," legolas muttered to quietly for anyone else to hear.

"why did you leave?" You murmered before losing conciousness.

Legolas felt tears escape his eyes for the second time that day as he sobbed over your unconscious form.

When you awoke you were on a fine white horse with someone riding behind you.

As the horse jostled you about you felt yourself sliding right but the person behind you quickly righted you pulling you into his chest.

"legolas?"

"I'm here," Legolas replied from behind and stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand.

"where are we going?" You asked sleepily.

"into the mountains," he answered leaving a sweet kiss on your neck. "Don't worry you will be safe there."

"Your leaving me?" You turned to look at him.

"We have to my love," he whispered his name for you in elvish.

You sighed and looked at your surroundings, you didn't want to argue with him right now.

You could see the level path gradually steepening, higher and higher until it disappeared amongst the trees.

Once you had traveled for what seemed like hours you reached a small cave in the mountain side. The cave extended about 5 meters back and 3 wide.

Silently you all dismounted your horse's.

"here we are," said Gandalf jesturing to the cave.

"and I'll be safe here?" You asked unsure. Trying to resist the urge to cling to legolas even with his hand in the small of your back. Especially with his hand on the small of your back.

"yes," said Aragorn, "no one will pass through here and if they do they shalln't see you."

"ok," you smiled and you took your small amount of luggage with you into the cave.

"oh and y/n, if someone does happen to come this way do not make a sound. Even if you are bleeding out onto the ground do not let anyone find you. They cannot enter this cave unless they see or hear you. You understand?"

Slightly taken aback you agreed and the company moved on.

"GOODBYE!" Called Gimli and legolas waved.

Wishing legolas was there you searched through your bags for the book you knew you'd packed, as it was your favourite and you had often spent whole nights with your nose stuck in between the pages.

Finding said book you settled down in a small alcove at the back of the cave with your bags resting beside you and began reading.

The story was on old one written by the first elves to travel to middle earth. It was about valinor, a place so pure that many elves were now traveling back to it.

Alas you could not return, not because of your human father. But you could settle for your imaginery version.

You would love to hear how it was now but no elves ever returnes from valinor.

The last thing you heard before drifting of to sleep was a horn blasting through the still silence.

When you awoke it was mid-day and the sun was streaming into the cave.

Rubbing sleep from your eyes you looked out at the lone tree gaurding the exit to your cave you saw shadows moving across the entrance.

Stiffling a gasp you shot back into the alcove.

You could hear bustling around outside before it all went silent. Peaking around the rock you could make out vague shapes lingering by the door.

Hurriedly you ducked back down reaching for the double recurve bow at your feet.

A voice came from outside and you let out a shaky breath collapsing your head into your hands.

"I swear she was right here," said Gimli.

"She was, she was right here," added Aragorn.

"maybe something happened?"came gandalfs voice.

"hopefully she's close by," said Gimli.

You made to stand up but froze. There were four shadows, three voices.

Legolas was there but hadn't spoken.

Silently you sat back down.

"where is she?" Gimli asked.

When you realise your name hadn't been mentioned you thanked your lucky star you hadn't walked out.

"where is she?" Gimli's voice asked again.

It wasn't them.

"probably gone," said Gandalf.

Suddenly you felt a sharp twing of pain in your head and you massaged your temple.

"I can feels it," whispered a wet voice.

Clasping your forehead you curled in on yourself. Wishing for the pain to end. You could feel your consciousness disappearing.

"it's in here," rasped another.

Then you heard the twang of a bow string and the thud of an arrow finding its mark.

Then three more times, before silence.

The throbbing in your head stopped and you straightened your back. Tempted to peer around the corner you shuffled further back against the wall.

You could hear footsteps outside quickly closing in.

"Y/N! Y/N ARE YOU OK?" Came legolas's frantic voice.

You peeped around the wall of the alcove and saw him walking inside the cave.

"yeah, I'm here," you called back meekly.

"oh thank god," legolas rushed to your side and knelt before you, "are you alright are you hurt?"

"no, I'm fine," you replied truthfully and he sighed in relief.

"I was worried."

"where are the others?"

"they sent me ahead, they are just coming," he said but his eyes didn't meet yours.

"legolas?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I ran ahead when I saw you weren't alone "

He helped you to your feet. Then he peaked outside seeing that the others were quite far off legolas turned back to you.

"we have five minutes," he said before slamming his hand beside your head and pulling you into him, kissing you agresively.

Melting into him you trailed your hands up his side's, resting them on his cheeks.

Legolas pushed your back up against the wall, his hand which was previously gripping your waist found its way to your breast, slowly needing it.

You moaned into his mouth and you felt his tongue lick your bottom lip before he took it in-between his teeth and rolled it around.

You pulled him impossibly closer and rapped your arms around his neck.

Panting he stopped gazing into your eyes. His own filled with longing.

"I love you," he whispers you tried to reply but he silenced you with his mouth. You gasped and opened your mouth wider, this must have been what he wanted because seconds later he had his tongue in your mouth.

The sounds of footsteps haulted your kiss.

"Y/N!" Called a voice much to close.

"I thought you said five minutes?" You whispered to legolas. He merely shrugged and walked out of the alcove.

"we are here!" He called out and suddenly Aragorn was upon you checking you to see if you were ingured.

"are you hurt?" He flustered about you.

"I am unharmed Aragorn," you assured him and pushed him back.

"I told you so," said Gimli as he hobbled up to you a humungus grin on his face.

"what bet did you win?" You asked him cheerily.

"Forty three!" Cried Gimli before he turned to see if Gandalf had arrived.

You turned to legolas for an explanation.

He merely looked at his feet and mumbled "one, it was one point," before sneeking his hand into yours looking for simpathy.

You gave it, squeezing his hand tight and rubbing your thumb across his nuckles.

Aragorn watched this exchange closly.

"so you two are really close then?" He asked.

"oh god yeah," you smiled back. "We're like siblings."

"Ah Y/n you are alright?" You nodded in response to Gandalfs question, "good, then we must make hast too Isengard."

"wait what about me? Legolas said I shan't be going to Isengard?" You pointed out.

"oh did he?" Said Aragorn. "Legolas failed to mention that."

All three looked to legolas sternly.

"in my defense," legolas trailed off unable to think of an excuse.

"well I suppose you could stay with the woman if Rohan," suggested Gandalf.

"Then I must stay aswell, harm befalls her whenever I leave," legolas objected.

"yeah, or legolas who is needed could go and I can fight with you guys?"

"No way," they all responded in unison.

"Tch," you tutted and walked too the entrance whilst the others discussed what to do with you.

Hopping down over rocks you walked further away. Following a small burn trickling down next to you.

That's when you heard it a rasping choking sound. The throbbing in your head returned.

"Gots you," gurgled the thing at your feet.

"Legol-" you tried to call out but you fell to your knees the pain in your head intensifying.

As the thing slowly crawled towards you, you kicked out landing a solid kick to its eye making it squeal in pain as it rithed around.

"Help," you cried a lot quieter but the thing at your feet heard.

"No helps for you," it said before lurching forward knocking your head against a rock. Blood poured into your eyes and you fumbled around for a weapon.

Finding a loose rock your turned to the creature bringing the rock down around its head. In the back of your mind you heard the twang of an arrow. But the creature seemed unbothered as it sunk its teeth into your calf.

You screamed an ear piercing scream and attempted to kick off the thing. Holding your rock more tightly you brought it down a second time this time hitting its jaw.

With a sickening crunch the creatures eyes flicked up to yours.

"Fiesty it is," a mix of saliva and blood pooled on your leg. You squeeked and tried to shuffle backwards but the pain in your leg was unimaginable. "Oh it's not leaving, it's not leaving," it laughed.

"Yes she is," cried Aragorn bringing his sword down splitting the creature's head in two. You let out a weak gasp.

Catching your breath you let your head fall back against soft moss.

"Thank you, I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing," he said pulling you into a tight imbrace.

"Where's legolas?"

"You know he heard you scream and ran out with naught but a single arrow and his bow."

"Then why is he not here?"

"Isn't it obvious, he missed,' Aragorn gestured to a singular arrow in the wood of a tree a few feet away.

"Oh," you said momentarily forgetting the pain in your leg but it was remembered harshly when you attempted to move.

Cursing Aragorn lifted you up holding you tight against him.

Tears soaked your cheeks as you cried in agony.

Aragorn started to run back up the mountain. Calling out as he did.

The blood loss would have knocked you unconscious but the pain kept you awake.

The cold stone of the cave floor did nothing to cool the hot pain searing through your body.

"Y/N!" Legolas knelt next to you but didn't touch you.

"Legolas," you reached your hand up to his face and he held it there.

You could hear gandalf ordering the other two around but your pain deluded mind didn't register it, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"Y/n I so sorry, I should have brought more arrows I should have helped more," his tears streaked his fave and landed on yours.

"It's ok, it's not your fault," you could feel someone wrapping bandages round your leg and you squeezed your eyes tight shut so you didn't scream. "Can I go with you know?"

"I am never leaving your side again."

"Thank you."

The road was rough everyone was tired as you trekked through marsh and forest alike.

You were camping out in a small gorge fire crackling and spitting.

***skipable smut from here till the next cut***

Everyone lay a few meters away from were you and legolas were sitting, all fast asleep.

You were proped up against a tree whilst he was leaning on your shoulder.

You were quite a bit away from the others so it came as no surprise to either of you that they hadn't heard you yet.

Legolas's hand was buried beneath your skirt, 'checking your bandages'.

His face was nestled in your hair his fingers working a silent apology on your clit.

You struggled to stay quiet his long fingers spreading your wetness around your folds.

you squirmed slightly and he picked up the pace rubbing circles around your sensitive bud making you whimper.

His fingers moved faster as you ground your hips against them desperate for more.

His other hand moved from your thigh up to your breast slowly massaging it and pinching at your nipple.

Wet squelching sounds erupted as he slipped his finger inside your soaked entrance quickly adding a second as you clenched around him.

His fingers pumped in and out of you in time with his hand on your breast making you moan and grip his thighs your legs spreading outwards.

He slowly let go of your breast his hand joing his other between your things only this one drew slow circles around your clit.

Your breathing quickened as his hands worked you faster.

suddenly you came letting out a silent moan.

He kept going through your orgasm until you had finished and her slowly pulled his fingers out of you and popped them in his mouth sucking them clean.

****end smut****

silence rung loud through the clearing broken only by gimlis uneven ear splitting snore.

The moon was high in the sky casting long shadows, and the cold air hung like a weighted blanket.

you fell asleep leaning against Legolas his breathing luling you to sleep.

Even with the ground poking you uncomfortably his arms were like a weighted blanket on your thoughts.

#legolas greenleaf #legolas fanfiction #legolas x reader #legolas #lotr fanfic

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deepperplexity · 5 months

Text

Prompt 2. Restless Waiting [B1]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Hogwarts, Severus Office

A/N: Day two of rickmas2023 - let's start a little longer story for our dear dungeon bat, shall we? 😍👏 I've been wondering what kind of story to do for this dark, complex man and I have arrived at something connected to canon yet with some additions - he deserves love, and love he shall have. But, it won't be easy 👀 Are you ready for a more lonely, darker story that eventually leads to a HEA? 😘

Tags/TW’s: Pining, Unrequited Love, Secret Love, Longing, Worry, Taking Liberties (decorating without permission), Snape is a Death Eater, Largely Following Canon Events, Nervousness, Fainting.

Word Count: 1.4k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

“Where is he?” I asked aloud, pacing his office while hugging myself to ward off the awful chill that seemed to line the walls of the entire dungeons. One would have thought I’d be used to it after all the years as a student, and then an assistant professor, only to eventually become a professor myself working alongside the man I’d held so dear for more years than I cared to admit — given how young I’d been when it all began to bloom within me. Not really appropriate, but, the heart wants what it wants as one says. Not that his heart seemed inclined to feel the same as my own, I never gave up though. If I so had to pop up in hallways between classes just to get a few words with him, it's what I did. Or when I arrived before anyone else in the Great Hall to take up the seat next to his preferred chair, or lingered in the dungeons after hours when he made rounds — I put the effort in, but it seemed to only make my own heart grow heavier and fuller of him despite the lack of reciprocation. Perhaps that was why I'd turned desperate? The fact his habits and routines had begun to differ a lot lately had me worried too, to be perfectly honest.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” I sighed and tried to loosen my muscles by shaking out my arms. “He’ll be here when he’ll be here.” Even if he’s late, too late… I couldn’t help the worry seeping in even if I knew there was no use for it. So, rather than linger on the echoing thoughts bubbling with fear like an overfilled cauldron above a fire too big I busied myself with the surprise I’d spent weeks planning.

Given how Severus hated the holiday looming closer, I felt the urge to make it better — make the holiday something to look forward to — even if I had no right to do anything for him. He wasn’t mine to do anything for, anything with — yet I tried, by Merlin I tried. I’m selfish, a selfish wicked witch.

“Oh, Belinna!” came McGonagall’s surprised voice. I turned only to see her stand in the doorway with a bewildered look as she took in the galore of candles, tinsel, and garlands wrapped in green satin strings glimmering in the yellow glow from the hundreds of little flames. “Everything alright, McGonagall?” I'd been caught, like a pixie in an immobulus charm, and my heart stuttered while every muscle in my body stiffened. “Oh, oh yes, dear. And it’s Minerva, if you please,” she said with that usual harsh mothering tone. I simply smiled and nodded while I relaxed at it being her in the doorway, my mind focused more on the man not in the room than the woman I had to thank for my first employment as an assistant professor though.

“How can I help you?” I asked, tugging my hair behind my ear as it had crept loose from the bow holding it. “Well, dear, I’m trying to find Severus. Have you seen the man?” she asked while still looking all around the room in confusion. “He must be going mad,” she mumbled, looking around his quarters while shaking her head in that specific way of hers which made her turkey neck jiggle cutely. It eased me further, her presence a comfort while my nerves seemed to cord themselves tighter.

“Oh, I’m waiting for him, I don’t know when he’ll be back but I wanted to surprise him.” “Oh, oh dear, well, I do believe you have succeeded in your endeavour to do so. Perhaps I ought to let Madam Pomfrey know, in case there is a heart attack coming her way this evening.” I laughed out loud, even if the thought frightened me, given just how little right I had to do what I’d done to the man’s private office.

“Belinna, dear, when are you going to tell the poor man how you feel?” “W-what do you mean? I’m not sure what you're talking about,” I said with a fumble. “You’re quite obvious, you know. And you’ve waited far longer than necessary. We all know.” “Except the man it matters for to know,” I mumbled while hugging myself once more, looking around the room with a sorrowful sort of joy. “You’re as bad as he is,” she grumbled with a sigh while turning before closing the door — leaving me more confused than ever. What in the cauldron is that suppose' to mean?

***

I must have wrung my hands to the point of soreness at some point an hour ago. The candles were going out one by one, melted to nothing but little stumps, allowing for the darkness and chill to creep ever closer despite all the decorations spreading that holiday cheer I adored to a degree that wasn’t exactly healthy perhaps. Bordering on obsession, to be perfectly honest — as one should strive to be when appropriate.

My feet ached after all the pacing so I sat down on the sofa in front of the unlit fireplace. My heart didn’t beat any faster, only more painfully so as the night crept toward morning and Severus was nowhere to be seen. I was exhausted, drained from the pacing, the worry, the waiting, the barrage of thoughts I had no right to think yet constantly did. The change of his habits and routines, the darkening of the world, the harshness turned nearly stony lately in his eyes... It had me on edge while I felt such a desperate urge to get closer, no matter how much distance he put between us.

I knew, knew what he was and why he disappeared from time to time. I knew he was a Death Eater, knew he was part of the Dark Lord’s servants — the people who sought to kill people who weren’t pure by blood. My blood was pure, but many of my friends were not and the people I called family (by choice) had no magic in them whatsoever. Yet, still, I loved him. I was in love with him. 1981, the year he returned to Hogwarts as a professor, I had just started my third year, I was a speck among the Slytherin students back then. Not bullied, nor popular, not well-liked, but not disliked either. I just existed, in the middle somewhere.

It was still the same now, at age twenty-eight, with a professor title and years of life experience — I was still the one stuck in the middle. Not noticed, yet not avoided. I was welcome yet there was always a distance of some kind. “But I’d like to be noticed by him, and held close…” I mumbled as my eyelids fluttered shut and sleep began to creep in as the world was slowly filtered out and I sagged into the sofa with only him on my mind and worry in my heart.

***

I jolted awake, the loud banging still ringing through the space as shuffling, dragging feet against the stone flooring came after it. Panted breaths, drawn heavily, out of tune with the other sound filled my ears as I turned in a flurry. My hair flicked about my face, since long abandoned by the silken band I’d tied it with, and the second I had a clear view my eyes found him. “S-Severus, I’m-, I’m sorry!” I said as I stood while his pale face and stiff body filled the doorway. “I know it’s not my place, I’m-, I’m sorry,” I blubbered frantically at his harrowed, broken appearance while his harsh eyes finally found me after sweeping across the room in what appeared to be something close to utter pain, devastation even.

“Belinna…” he exhaled as if relieved. His voice was strained and hoarse in a manner I’d never heard before — nor ever wanted to hear again. It was wrong, something was entirely wrong. I stepped closer, my body turning colder at the sight of his ashen skin. “Sev— SEVERUS!” He crumbled right before my eyes, I threw myself forward, catching his head before he hit the stone floor below while knocking over a side table — sending tinsel and candle stumps flying through the air while my heart screamed in worry for the man I loved with the entirety of it.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: I am so ready to follow these two - I have an incline to what I want to write for them but my creativity can take me in unexpected directions - there will be a HEA though (it's Christmas time after all 🤭) but I have a feeling there will be hardships first - and we'll probably end up travelling far in time 👀 Gaaah, can't belive it's December and I get to do this with you all, thank you or being here darlings! 🖤

Q: What's your favourite Christmas song(s)? A: I have a few, and funnily enough, they're all Swedish 😂 Like, Swedish (my native language) isn't my fav language but when it comes to music gosh we make some fantastic music and it hits me so hard - especially Christmas music. If you're interested, here are a few: Den vintertid Nu Kommer - Miss Li Solglasögon I December - Emil Assergår Nysnö - Jens Hult Min Störst Önskan - Klockrent! Staffansvisa III (Staffan's Song) - Lennart Lundén, Lund Cantores Cathedrale, Evan Svanholm Bohlin Mer Jul - Axel Schylström Jul - Snowstorm Julkort Från Vårby Gård - Josef Johansson, Nina Mira

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet@flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight14 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns

@serenanight87 @morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @leah1243 @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #rickmas #alan rickman #severus snape #snape fic #christmas fic #rickmaniac #pro snape #snape #snape x OC

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starstruckmoony · 2 years

Text

clandestine meetings.

masterlist

pairing - remus lupin x reader

summary - just you and remus being in love, secretly though.

trope/tags - fluff, secret relationship

warnings - none

word count - 1.3k

the clock struck ten. you yawned, snuggling into remus' shoulder while his eyes were focused on a book he stole from under lily's bed. it was one of those rare nights when the three other marauders were all out and about somewhere where neither of them should be, but remus didn't allow it to occupy his thoughts. on any other occasion, he would be losing his mind trying to locate the idiots, especially if one of them happened to snatch the map. something (someone) else was on his mind, and not even the book in his hands could fully drift his focus away from you.

"i love that part, i couldn't wait for emma and mr. knightley to finally get together." you sighed dreamily. remus let his eyes trail towards you, and he hummed in response, smiling stupidly.

"remus, you're reading persuasion." his ears turned red and you burst out laughing at the way he widened his eyes. he groaned in embarrassment, covering his face with the book to hide the blush on his cheeks.

"you can't ask me to focus when you're right here next to me, you know." his voice was slightly muffled.

"are you saying i'm distracting you?" the teasing tone of your voice made him snort.

"perhaps." he said.

"alright, i shall leave you, then." you sat up on the bed, acting as if you were about to leave him and head back to your own dormitories. remus was quick to react. the book fell to the floor with a loud thud, and you snickered when he pulled you back onto the mattress and then hovered over you.

"not yet, you got here only an hour ago." remus argued playfully. "really? i feel like years have gone by." you went along with it.

"i'm that boring, huh?" he sighed.

"just a little bit." you smirked. he scoffed, and then leaned down to lock his lips with your own. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, if that was even possible.

you and remus were a simple couple, sort of. you didn't long for any special date nights or anything over the top. sometimes you'd read together, but really, both you could settle for simply lying in bed together, kissing, cuddling, talking about anything and everything that would come to your minds.

you loved each other, yet you never showed it in front of others. it's not like you had to keep the fact you were together hidden from everybody, no, but you both enjoyed the thought and the thrill of having such a relationship. you sometimes blamed it on the books, but secret meetings in the astronomy tower, stolen stares, hidden smiles, you loved all of it. you lived in your own little world that you two created. was it unnecessary? yes, pretty much. did you ever want it to stop? hell no.

"do you wanna dance?" remus suddenly pulled away from you, his face flushed and lips swollen. you almost laughed at how he let the words out so nonchalantly, as if you weren't sucking each other's faces off five seconds prior.

"i'd love to, but you might lose a limb." you said in jest, but in a way, you meant it. remus didn't seem to care, though. he stood up, taking your hand and pulling you along with him. you had many artists to chose from, so you started searching through all of the records stacked on top of each other.

"bee gees or abba?" you purposely picked up the two you were sure would irk remus the most. his jaw dropped, and for a moment you thought he was truly offended because you even dared to make such a proposition. you never understood what remus (or sirius for that matter) had against the said bands, but seeing him get annoyed whenever the girls (along with james) played any of their songs was awfully entertaining.

"we both know the answer to that." remus snorted, continuing his search for something good, but he wasn't so lucky as he kept picking up several ones which he found rather ridiculous one after another.

"what the hell, prongs?" remus muttered more to himself, and decided to look through the ones he was completely sure were sirius'. you laughed at the disappointed look on his face, and just then you unveiled what you were convinced was perfect for the occasion.

"love, look." you were grinning like a little child showing him the record, and you were suprised when he didn't make a face at what he was seeing.

"frank sinatra?" he spoke in amusement.

"i think you may have underestimated james." you chuckled, and remus nodded in agreement.

"do you reckon this is what him and lily dance to when no one's looking?" he quiered as he pulled the vinyl out of the paper packaging and placed it into the gramophone.

"possibly, but they definitely don't dance to bowie." you shrugged as you paced around the room, almost laughing when remus gave you an annoyed glare. "ha ha, very funny." he said in a mocking tone, returning his focus to the stylus which he needed to place on the record.

it must have been his lucky day, because music started playing immediately, unlike the few previous nights where he was practically fighting to get the old gramophone to even work.

remus switched the lights off, and when he walked over to you, you threw your arms around his neck, while his hands rested on your waist. you began swaying to the music together, deciding to let yourselves relax despite not being the best dancers. nobody was there to see you, anyway.

"fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars," remus sang quietly as you moved to the tune, "let me see what spring is like on jupiter and mars."

"look at you knowing the lyrics." remus chuckled at the teasing expression on your face.

"in other words, hold my hand. in other words, baby kiss me." you let out a huff of air as you felt heat rush to your cheeks.

"you make it feel like we're in a movie." you sighed, laughing breathlessly. "i love you." you blushed. remus pressed his forehead against yours. "i love you too."

all of it was perfect, neither of you could have asked for anything better. but perfect things somehow always come to an end, don't they?

the door suddenly burst open, and the two of you didn't even have time to separate before the damage had been done. peter stood there with his jaw dropped, as if he was trying to take everything in. james burst out laughing, losing his balance and falling to the floor. and sirius looked like he was about to start making fun of you any second.

"care to explain?" he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he eyed the two of you mischievously.

you and remus exchanged horrified glances. he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, locking his eyes with all three of his friends uncertainly, "well, um, this is my girlfriend." he said and then hugged you clumsily.

"surprise?" you said in attempt to defuse the tension, snickering when you realised it did nothing. remus did too, letting his head drop onto your shoulder.

"it certainly is." sirius scoffed, walking over to his bed and casually lying down as if he didn't just interrupt a date and realise that his two good friends had been technically lying to him for about a year straight.

"hey, is that my record?" james questioned after finally coming back to his senses and standing up from the ground. he seemed a bit intrigued, "lily and i dance to this too, when no one's looking." he smiled to himself.

"not bowie?" sirius sounded disappointed, but not surprised. remus was suddenly all-ears.

"god, no." james made his way over to his own bed, and let himself fall face-down.

"told you." you smiled in victory. remus pretended to be annoyed for a moment, and then kissed the top of your head. this was not at all how he planned to tell his friends about the two of you, but it went surprisingly well (a little too well), and you couldn't wait to tell the girls about it.

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bg-brainrot · 1 month

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!”

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles.

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step.

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving.

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap.

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know.

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn.

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle.

So you go with your instinct.

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are.

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic.

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down.

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice.

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry.

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action.

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder.

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them.

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs.

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover.

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage.

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips.

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.”

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

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