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seventh-district · 7 months

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Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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You don't see this either.

Ngl, prob not going to get lbfd up this week either place. This migraine (yep, I' have've had one for nearly 4 months now) is still kicking my ass and I have 3 new classes starting up this week to settle into teaching. So I might share some little bitty bits from various fics wips. Since you're all enjoying the fic I'm not writing...

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“Red Hood,” Jason said as he collapsed dramatically onto Dick’s absurdly comfortable couch, “is apparently easy to seduce.” Dick, the dick, blinked at him before collapsing in laughter. “Oh my God,” he wheezed. “Danny has— and these are his words Dickie— thirst trap shorts.” Dick cackled. “Jay.” “Itty bitty red and black athletic shorts that say ‘RED’ on the ass— like a fucking brand.” “No.” “Yes. And he never even got to wear them to sparing because, apparently, Red Hood gave in quicker than he expected!” “He was seducing you,” Dick said with absolute glee. “Oh my God. Did he, like, have a twelve step plan or something?” Jason actually paused to consider that. “You know, knowing him it’s and fifty-fifty shot.”

#Do I enjoy throwing Dick into fics maybe too much?#yes #he's so fun to have react to things #dp x dc #dead on main #jason todd #dick grayson #no tagging cause I'm too damn tired #will tag when it's next a real part #the fic that i'm not writing

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emilianadarling · 1 year

Photo

Some of the Imperial propaganda pictures I referenced and used as inspiration for a scene in the latest chapter of my fic ‘only as strong as the warrior next to you’. 😊 (Please do mind the tags.)

All of the images above can be found in “Star Wars Propaganda: A History of Persuasive Art in the Galaxy”. It’s an amazing reference book and I’m really enjoying it!! It also came with 10 free posters included... bonus. 😃🙏 Also, made a rebels equivalent -- check it out!

#star wars #star wars propaganda #propaganda #the galactic empire #darth vader #stormtroopers #dinluke #only as strong as the warrior next to you #is the fic in question #and it's a dinluke fic so #tagging that also #maybe i'll do a rebel version also but for story reasons ofc the imperial propaganda is the kind that the characters are exposed to #star wars propaganda a history of persuasive art in the galaxy

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fandomrose · 7 days

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Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about eachother, you'd both say about eachother. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.

"Please do."

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.

"Beloved, lift your arms."

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide."

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time

Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops infront and,

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.

"Beloved, lay down."

When hes satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.

Once you've layed down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he beins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reaclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening amd he feels like he too can finally relax.

#hsr x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #i needed fluffy hypnosis so i wrote it myself yay #i headcanon him as so.eone who would excessively use pet names because he finds them cute #and a sense of ownership but shush #but hes really just a tired dude whose life is spiralling out of control and i just want to hug him and stroke his wings #maybe reverse comfort for him next #i have a Neuvillette amd a clive rosfield fic in the works #i want to write for Aventurine but im a bit scared #also ratio #i love him more than i did when he was introduced thanks 2.1 #anyway excited for patch 2.2 Sunday. wanna see him go even crazier but also see him nice and relaxed you know?#the duality of man #this isnt my best work ever but im happy ish with it and just want to get it out.#if you do have constructive criticism thats fine please and thank you

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gentil-minou · 7 months

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Wei Wuxian licks his lips and leans forward slightly, walking his fingers across the countertop aimlessly toward Lan Zhan. “You know, Lan Zhan,” he drawls, “A-Yuan says we’re both in the book.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responds, tracking the path of his fingers intently, “I am apparently Hanguang-jun, the moral upstanding hero.”

“And I’m the devious Yiling Loazu, who led you astray,” he smirks, peering at Lan Zhan through his lashes.

Lan Zhan meets his stare, head-on, lit from within like molten sunshine. “No,” he corrects, “not astray, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head, waiting for him to continue. His fingers stop their dancing, resting just inches away from Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan shifts his own hand, bringing them even closer, their fingertips almost brushing.

“The Yiling Loazu did not lead Hanguang-jun astray,” he says, eyes piercing as they flicker between Wei Wuxian’s. “They were partners, and…”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian breathes, “the decent romance?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, watching him closely. The pupils of his eyes have grown so large there’s only the tiniest ring of gold around the edge. He can see himself reflected in the black. He thinks he likes the version of himself that lives in Lan Zhan’s eyes.

They’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to take a step forward, bracing for a fall.

It should be terrifying, this sudden drop into something completely new, something entirely unknown yet so familiar. But Wei Wuxian is filled with conviction that no matter what, Lan Zhan will catch him.

It's as electrifying as it is calming, this certainty that here, with Lan Zhan, he is safe.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side in a way he knows sets the unmarked skin of his neck on display. “I’m sure it was more than just decent, with a handsome hero like Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Zhan quirks an eyebrow, his gaze resting on the curve of Wei Wuxian’s neck, just as he’d hoped. "Handsome?"

“Well,” Wei Wuxian responds, tapping his index finger so it brushes against Lan Zhan’s fingertips. His skin is soft and perfect, just like the rest of him. “He isn’t wrong. You’re very handsome, Lan Zhan.”

“Really, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, voice quiet and deep.

“Yep, definitely worthy of being compared to the beautiful Second Jade of Lan.”

“Is that so?” Lan Zhan shifts closer, the smell of him filling up Wei Wuxian. He smells so familiar, like something he knows intimately. Sandalwood, Wei Wuxian realizes, with sudden clarity.

Lan Zhan continues, “I would love to hear more about your opinion on my beauty and prestige, Wei Ying.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Lan Zhan. Why would you care what I think?”

Lan Zhan tilts his head, only just. “Do I need to? To want to know how your brain works?”

I commissioned this lovely artwork by the wonderful @lotuslate of a scene from my fic, once upon a time, 很久很久以前 where the entire cultivation world is cursed to live in the modern world without their memories and abilities, but of course wangxian find a way to fall in love all over again.

#i've been staring at this art for days they're one of my fave mdzs artist i am not worthy T__T #look at them falling in love before shenanigans try to keep them apart!!#im planning to post chapter 3 next week maybe by the end og the weekend #it's an absolute beast at 15k but it also introduces a bunch of characters im excited for hehe #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #chen qing ling #wangxian #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #mxtxnet #mdzs ouat au #bushy writing #okay now that the tags are out of the way prepare for anxiety rant: commissioning art for my fic was one of the best and most anxiety thing #i've ever had to do like it's actually insane #on the one hand i love my fic so much but also i do not feel worthy of such pretty art and talent (except i paid for it and supported an #artist i really admire which makes me dumb brain extra silly) but yeah this enitire week since i first got it i basically had to play #with my anxiety in the worst way and its been awful and i want to share this art cause its so great but also i want to cry cause i feel #unworthy BUT! i am by posting this telling that anxiety to shut up and continue promoting a fic i'm really proud and excited for and #hopefully opening the floodgates so i have the confidence to commission more artwork in the future because seeing the words i write in a pi #is just about one of the most incredible feelings aNYWAYS

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themightynyunyi · 1 year

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His.

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #james x regulus #nyudoesart #since I cant play 'the game' i started to read marauders fanfics again #but as a mature adult woman i moved on on my og otp remus/sirius to his lil brother and james #so after consuming many many chapters of jegulus fics it made me draw again #not faces tho maybe next time #one day im gonna draw faces again... but today is not that day #im happy that I managed to finish one(1) art piece

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kucho04 · 3 months

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Lucky item, yellow hair ribbon Art trade :)

#midorima shintarou #takao kazunari #kuroko no basket #midotaka #trader! you know who you are again :D #I wanted to put something cute on his hair as lucky item #next time maybe it will be a hairband #for anyone curious- in exchange I received a 5k himukuro fic. can you believe it? dreamy

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getindumdums · 2 months

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*sees party

*dips

@tmntaucompetition

Edit: Find my new fic here!

#I have so many ideas for my fic #and almost zilch to what I've posted about it #So you get this for now maybe next tmnt comp #rottmnt #get in dum-dums we're going vandalising #turtles forever ii #tmnt competition #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2012

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zyafics · 1 month

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okay, but imagine rafe with an eldest-daughter, independent f!reader. like, she's always used to taking care of other people, of no one taking care of her, of relying on herself and only herself, while rafe wants to do everything for her. he wants to be everything for her. she's so used to working her entire life, where every penny she made is put into something else for her younger siblings, her parents, her family and never her, while rafe is willing to buy her anything and everything she ever dreamed of. give her the whole world if she asks. she's so self-reliant that whenever she has a problem, she goes into the trenches trying to solve it herself because she's not used to asking for help. rafe just wants to help her, wants her to let him in. but it's nearly impossible. because she's the oldest, she's so used to solving other people's problems and she's so good at it, which is why rafe finds comfort in her. she always listens to his rants, whether it's about sarah being the golden child or how he just wants his father's love. she's there. she doesn't judge, expect anything of him, just her mere presence helps him navigate the noise in his head. she's so good to him (which is why he so desperately wants to be there for her). when she offers solutions, she never pushes him to take it, but he always does because sometimes he thinks she knows him better than he knows himself. however, all and all, she does this without revealing a glimpse of past to him. it's a bad trait of hers, but she's so used to it. it isn't until rafe comes in, demanding, expecting, and forcing his presence in her life that she reveals things. it isn't until he proves to her that he won't leave that she lets him in.

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estrellami-1 · 8 months

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If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Eddie frowns. “Do you know why you were brought back?”

Steve shrugs. “Kinda. I know we knew what we were doing, when we were, but best I can figure, coming back in time messed with our memories and made them really hazy for a bit. It’s clearing up now, and I’m remembering more. Basically El found a way to send us back to make this all right from the beginning.”

Eddie nods, then seemingly changes the subject. “So Robin said you know? About her?”

Steve’s brows furrow in thought, then smooth out. “Oh! Yeah. She did.”

Eddie nods. “She knows, but… do you?”

“About?”

Eddie fidgets. “Me.”

Steve takes a second. “I didn’t know for sure, but I had an idea.”

Eddie nods. “So, you and I weren’t ever… we…”

“No,” Steve murmurs, then shrugs. “Maybe, if we had more time. And I know this probably sounds really weird to you, considering we officially met, like, two days ago, but…” Steve shrugs. “I can… I can lay off. If you want. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I’m going to process any of this until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Steve chuckles. “Fair enough. Just… let me know, yeah?”

Eddie nods, and with that they fall silent for a little while longer.

Eddie’s the one to break the silence. “The tape you gave me. Have you listened to it?”

Steve smiles. “Once or twice. I didn’t get to hear you play, but Dustin told me it was the most metal concert ever.”

Eddie chuckles. “Are you hoping for a do-over this time? Hoping to hear me play?”

“And if I was?”

Eddie sobers. “Then I guess I’ll just have to play it for you.”

Steve smiles. “I’d like that.”

They fall silent for a little bit longer until Steve sighs. “I feel like I owe you an apology. You didn’t ask for any of this. For my feelings or to be dragged into this or-”

“Hey,” Eddie says, stopping him in his tracks with a soft hand to his arm. “I asked a question. I wanted honesty, and I got it. Admittedly I got a little more than that, what with fuckin’ Mordor,” he gestures around, and Steve chuckles. “But you gave me honesty. That’s it. You didn’t push me to accept it or reciprocate anything. You didn’t even push me for a reaction. Did your answer surprise me?” He chuckles, shakes his head. “Man, I’m not convinced I’m not still dreaming. Maybe I fuckin’ drove the van into a pole on the way to school and now this is a very weird coma-dream and I’m in the hospital. I don’t fuckin’ know, man.”

Steve frowns. “Do people in comas dream?”

“I- what?” Eddie asks, then considers the question. “I- I don’t know. They do, right? They’re just asleep, I thought?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like you dream every night, right? Maybe comas are always on those nights. Or days. Or whatever.”

Eddie blinks at him, then slowly smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re weird as shit, man?”

Steve laughs. “Only all the time.”

His smile falls as he looks out at the landscape. “We should keep moving. We’ve been out in the open for a while.”

Eddie hums. “How far did the squirts say?”

Steve sighs. “They didn’t, just said to keep going this way until El tells us to turn.”

Suddenly, a shadow flits over his face. He freezes and looks up, then curses quietly and grabs for Eddie’s arm, stilling him.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie hisses.

“Demobat.”

“Shit.” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “If i shoot it, will the gun scare off the others or bring them to investigate?”

Steve sets his jaw, mouth a thin line. “Only one way to find out.”

Eddie cocks the gun. “Shoot and run like hell?”

Steve nods, and Eddie smiles grimly before lining up the sights, taking a deep breath, and pulling the trigger.

The gun fires.

The bat falls to the ground.

Steve and Eddie run.

Eddie almost falls once, trying to run and carry the gun, and Steve grabs his hand, pulling him along, forgetting their hands are joined until the walkie crackles to life again and Mike’s voice comes through. “Turn left,” he says, and Eddie’s brow furrows.

“We’re getting farther from the lake.”

Steve relays the information, and they pause, catching their breath while they wait for a reply. “El says he’s not near the lake.”

Steve and Eddie look at each other, then shrug. “Alright,” Steve says. “How long?”

“She says you’ll know,” comes the cryptic answer.

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #slow burn #fix it fic #time travel #time travel fic #ngl i definitely forgot today was the day to post until like. just now #next up they find will!#…maybe #ngl i definitely forgot what I wrote #starambles

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lilyrizzy · 2 months

Note

prompt—When we broke up but I'm still his emergency contact for maxiel

sad fic alert! i hope you like it <3

Max wakes up to the angry vibration of his phone on the bedside table, the flashing screen far too bright in the dark of their- his bedroom.

With heavy eyes, he tries to make sense of the blurred numbers, the ones that tell him it's four-thirty in the morning and the ones that tell him it's an unknown number calling. The area code is from here, from Monaco.

"Hello?" He answers after just a moment of considering letting it ring out. He'd been having a good dream, full of honking laughter and summer sun, in which the noise of the phone had been the waves of the sea until he'd woken up.

"Is this Max Verstappen?" A serious-sounding voice on the other end of the line asks. Before Max can ask in return, who wants to know- "I am calling about Daniel Ricciardo."

For a heart-stopping moment, Max wonders if this is him. The man Daniel has been photographed leaving clubs with, who has shown up to races with him, who is probably keeping his bed warm since-

"Who is this?" Max asks, hot anger boiling over his voice, replacing the previous lukewarm irritation. "What-"

"I'm a nurse calling from the Princess Grace Hospital," the voice interrupts, quick and professional, "Mr Ricciardo had an accident while out at a nightclub, intoxicated."

The words are icey water thrown over the furious fire in Max's gut. Goosebumps raise over his arms, his legs, his whole body as he throws the covers off, already scrambling for the jeans he shrugged off just before bed.

"An accident," he repeats, panic raising the pitch of his voice an entire octave, "is he-"

"Mr Ricciardo is fine," the voice interrupts again, smooth. "A few stitches in his arm where he cut himself on some glass in the bar, a bruised head from a fall. We have cleared the risk of a concussion. We just need someone to pick him up and take him home."

Relief threatens to choke Max, but then with it a sense of dread that coils tight in his stomach. It doesn't stop him from reaching for the keys of his fastest car, because he knows the answer already to the next question he asks.

"You want me to- To come and get him?"

"Yes," the man confirms, "He isn't sober enough for us to discharge him without a family or friend."

Max doesn't have the heart to tell this stranger that he isn't either anymore.

---

Sat on the edge of the hospital bed, Daniel has the nerve to look sheepish. It's obvious he's still a little drunk from the way he sways even sat down. It's obvious he's had more than just alcohol from the anxious way his foot is tapping against air, the bed too high for his feet to touch the ground.

"Hi Maxy," he says looking up to see Max standing in the doorway, and Max wonders when one nickname and the flash of a smile will stop him from remembering how happy he used to be.

At his sides, his fingers itch to reach out, to touch what Max knows too well are the softest parts of him, to make sure they are still warm.

"Daniel," is all he says instead, and for a moment they just stare at each other under the harsh glare of fluorescent hospital lighting. Then, "they called me, to come to get you."

Daniel nods, and then the nod dissolves into shaking his head from side to side as though moving it to music only he can hear.

"Yeah well," he snorts, "they think a few little stitches and a bash on the head is enough to require a babysitter. I did try to tell them I'm a badass race car driver and this-" he waves his left arm -"is nothing compared to my titanium hand, but-"

He punctuates his protests with a jerky shrug, and this is nothing like the Daniel that Max knows.

The Daniel Max knows would be pouting, asking if Max thought he was brave for doing it all alone. Better yet, the Daniel Max knows would have wanted Max here to hold his hand while the doctor threaded the needle through his skin. Would want Max to look after him afterwards, to make it all better with a kiss and buttery toast in bed.

With Daniel's arm still waving indignantly in the air, for the first time, Max looks at it properly. Before, he'd been too busy looking at his face, the red rim of his eyes, the dark circles underneath them, still so greedy to drink him in. At race weekends in front of cameras, he's made an art of looking away.

The bandages are thick, covering a lot of his forearm. The baby cupid with his bow is mostly covered, the delicate arch of his foot and toes are the only parts of him visible, peeking out from the bottom.

"Did it hurt?" Max can't help but ask, and it's stupid. That even after perfecting the hurt they caused each other with months of shouting matches, followed by even more of stone cold silence, the idea of Daniel in pain is still one that he can't quite stomach.

Daniel's gaze shifts down to fix on his own shoes as he answers.

"Nah," is all he says with another shrug. "Nah, I just- I'm tired mate, can you drive me home? Or to your place, I just- I need to sleep it off."

Max tries not to wince at the reminder that home and Max's apartment aren't the same thing to Daniel anymore.

"Okay," he says, nodding even though Daniel isn't looking at him. "Let me find the nurse, for your paperwork."

---

In the car, Daniel presses his cheek against the window and lets his eyes fall shut.

Months ago, in another life, Max could have told Daniel not to smudge the glass with his sweaty skin. Daniel would have giggle infuriatingly and told Max, you love my sweat. Maybe Max would have a hand on Daniel's knee. Maybe Max would have leant over at the traffic lights to lick his cheek and joke back, salty, my favourite.

Or maybe he would have got annoyed, like at the end, and told Daniel to stop being such a child.

"Did you ask them to call me?" Max asks eventually, just as the light turns green again. The question has been playing on his mind since the panic of being woken by a hospital phone call ebbed away.

On the other side of the windows, the sun is beginning to rise. A new day.

"No," Daniel says, his voice clear. More awake than he looks. "No they- I forgot to change my emergency contact info back to Blake."

Max bites the inside of his cheek and nods. It's not something he thought about, because it's not something he has had to do himself. His dad is still his number one 'in case of emergency' number, and his manager Raymond his number two. It's something they fought about, once, Max not understanding the big deal, but now-

Now, one day Daniel might get really hurt or worse, and it makes Max's stomach churn to realise he would have to hear about it from Instagram or the Daily Mail like everyone else who isn't special to him.

It's not until they pull up outside Daniel's apartment building that he opens his eyes again to see where Max is dropping him off. He looks disappointed, and then- Hurt.

It takes everything in Max not to tell him to wait, that he'll drive them back to Max's place, home after all. To promise that Daniel can sleep it off in their old bed, that Max will make him their usual hangover cure that Daniel teasingly nicknames 'Max-y-Million's breakfast of champions,' but-

It'd be too hard, to know that none of it would be real. That Daniel wouldn't stay, but that the images of him there amongst all of Max's things that used to be their things would. To feel the moment fade into another memory that haunts the apartment.

"Do you need me to walk you up?" Max offers instead, but he knows what the answer will be before Daniel speaks.

"I'm good," Daniel promises, face shuttering closed so Max can no longer see the soft vulnerability of his surprise at them winding up back here, at this crossroads again.

The last time Max had driven him here it had been with a car full of suitcases and cardboard boxes.

"Okay," Max says, and it's ironic how out of all the times he threw Daniel's immaturity in his face, he is now the one suddenly blinking back tears like a child. He fixes his eyes on his steering wheel, the bold yellow Ferrari badge, so he doesn't have to watch Daniel leave again.

The car door doesn't open.

"Maxy," Daniel sighs instead, and it's all it takes for the first tear to fall, to slide off his nose and into his lap. "Max, I-"

"Don't," Max pleads, even though he's desperate to know what Daniel might say.

I miss you. I love you. I hate you. I remember when we used to be easy, why can't it be like that anymore?

"Me too," he says, because no matter what it's the truth.

Daniel's fingertips on his cheek make Max jerk, the unexpected tenderness as he wipes away a tear startling him. When Max won't look at him, Daniel sighs again, a little harder. More softness Max has chipped away from him.

"I'll see you in Barcelona," is all he says though, and the next sound is the slam of the car door behind him.

#there's a happy ending...somewhere #maybe i'll write it next who knows #fic #max/daniel

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