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sweet-s0rr0w · 6 months

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Vintage Drarry Fics

Thought I'd put together a list of some of the old Drarry 'classics' of my teenage years, for anyone interested. All posted between 2001-2006, compiled using my (bad) memory, a lot of googling, fanlore.org and numerous different LJ rec accounts (including the incredible @capiturecs). I checked as best I could, but if anyone knows of any fics that their author doesn't want to be shared, please let me know and I will of course remove.

Please also note that these fics are of their era, when attitudes may have been different, and they may not all be grammatically perfect. I haven't reread all, as my own tastes have changed, but most importantly do note that they may not be tagged - don't blame me when, for example, Harry dies tragically on a rooftop at sunrise...

Hogwarts Era (mostly 5th-7th year)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by Duinn Fionn/geoviki (M, 105k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

All Bets Are Off by Allegra (R, 53k)

I am SICK of Good-little-innocent!Harry...Enter Playboy!Harry and his Overinflated Ego, a challenge, a bet, a couple of Really Cunning Plans - and there you have it, "Forty days and forty nights", Hogwarts style. Mayhem ensues!

Angels and Devils by beren (E, 52k)

Harry defeated Voldemort and his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He's trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but, thanks to the method he chose to destroy The Dark Lord, something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Artful Facade by Sky Sorceress (T, 66k)

Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.

Beautiful World by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 70k)

Harry finds out he's going to die on his 16th birthday. He embarks on a journey of self-destructive behaviour and drags Draco along for the ride.

Beneath You by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 113k)

Draco had no idea that the repercussions of stealing Potter's journal and shoving it down the back of his trousers would be so extreme.

Bond by AnnaFugazzi (M, 173k)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

Checkmate by Naadi Moonfeather (T, 245k)

Draco has the perfect plan to get Harry Potter and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind?

The Cicatrix Cycle by Ivy Blossom (NC-17, long!)

Three parts: Origins, Haven, Belong

Draco In Darkness by Plumeria (T, 41k)

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

Eclipse by PhoenixSong/Mijan (T, 287k)

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But, when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Friend Like Me by Lady Vader (M, 11k)

Draco's rendition of the love story that never was.

How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back by Durendal/Eleveninches (R, 12k)

Snape tries to hang himself, Draco enters an alternate reality, and Harry Gets a Clue. Humor, SLASH, naughty language, and other Evil Things. Harry/Draco, Snape/James/Lucius.

Irresistible Poison by Rhysenn (PG-13, 124k)

Under the influence of a love potion, Draco learns that poison doesn't always bring death -- there are other ways to suffer and live. Chemical emotion runs feverish as Harry and Draco discover the intoxication of love.

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 7.8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Love Under Will by Aja (R, 116k)

In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...

playing the game, living the lie by Abaddon (R, 159k)

Set in Sixth Year, both the wizarding and Muggle worlds are threatened as Voldemort plans a final revenge. Past, present and future collide as all must consider where their loyalties lie; who they are, and who they want to be. Amidst it all, Harry and Draco begin a dangerous journey of understanding. Is it possible to leave everything you thought you were behind?

Resolution by Frances Potter (R, 322k)

When you've spent six years fighting evil, all you really want is a quiet time. But when your name is Harry Potter the chances of that are very slim. A series of vignettes chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make the year end seem a very long way away.

Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself by Ari Munami (PG-13, 31k)

Harry goes through some er... changes in his Sixth Year and everyone, including Draco Malfoy, sits up and takes notice.

Snakes and Lions by GatewayGirl (M, 139k)

When Ron and Hermione get together, they notice only each other. A nightmare prompts Harry to return alone to the empty Chamber of Secrets, and leads to a new look at an old enemy. Harry enjoys the company, but with Bellatrix Lestrange actively hunting him, how far can he trust a Death Eater's son?

Something Impossible by epicylical/Cassandra Claire (PG, 6.4k)

As punishment for an act of vandalism, Draco is forced to perform three tasks to win Harry's forgiveness - only they don't turn out to be exactly the kind of tasks he'd been expecting. With wet shirtless Draco, paint-covered Harry, and Proust-reading Goyle.

Transformation by amalin (E, 98k)

In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, he must face the consequences of the attack on the Department of Mysteries and the effects of Voldemort's return. And in doing so, he finds that even your enemies can teach you valuable lessons—about the world, and about yourself.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Post-Hogwarts

Adagio in G Minor by furiosity (NC-17, 18k)

Seven years after Hogwarts and the war, life continues in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is rich, bored, and slightly jaded. Harry Potter is famous, busy, and somewhat disillusioned. They've not seen each other since school ended. What would happen if they were to cross paths again? What if it involved music?

Big Dick, Come Quick [PDF] by Calanthe (NC-17, 204k)

Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.

Draco's Escort Service by Cheryl Dyson/dysonrules (15, 12k)

Draco's job is to escort travelers through the dangerous, war-torn countryside. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco expected.

Left My Heart by Emma Grant (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Malfoy, P.I. by Nancy (R, 60k)

"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Queen of Hearts by scoradh (E, 65k)

A spectre is haunting Harry - the responsibility of his destiny. It looms over his future and, more importantly, over the future of his friends. Harry is determined to exorcise this spectre for the greater good, but on the way, he enters into a few unholy alliances.

Tissue of Silver by fearlessdiva (R, 76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (M, 58k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

#drarry #fic recs #vintage drarry fics #loved putting this together #blast from the past

507 notes · View notes

angelatmidnight1 · 3 months

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hii thank you for feeding us with your bg3 tickle content 😫🙏🏼 I’ve been starving. Do you have any headcanons for ler!Gale with a stoic/tsundere lee!tav? Or really any of the other companions if ur not a Gale girly. tysm ❤️ [ps. tell me if I’ve crossed any boundaries / done something wrong, first time sending an ask 🙂]

A/N: Hi! You didn't cross any boundaries. I know you said headcanons, but I hope a fic was okay instead? This prompt works nicely with my favorite tav and her relationship with Gale- she's a stoic, snooty sorceress. I kept the fic gender-neutral though. I hope you like it! 💜

Pillow Talk

Fandom- Baldur's Gate 3.

Pairing- Gale Dekarios x Reader (ler!Gale, lee!reader). For the purposes of this story, reader is a sorcerer.

Word Count- 3,723.

Warnings- Spoilers for Acts 1-2 (ish), swearing, rivals to lovers in the beginning, and tickles.

As a noble-born sorcerer, there’s very little you don’t know about magic. It’s flown through your family’s veins for centuries. But, Gale’s different. He knows way more than you’d ever expect. As much as you try to deny it, you fall for him, and channeling the Weave together confirms it. Much to your surprise, the feelings are mutual. As your new relationship blossoms, Gale realizes that he’s never heard you laugh before, and he seeks to remedy that.

“Can’t I just break it?”

Karlach whined as she jostled the lock on the door. The lock glowed as she touched it and suddenly sent out a pulse of magical energy. She staggered back, yelping. “Shit! Guess not.”

You maneuvered around her, shaking your head. “It’s a magical lock, Karlach. I told you smashing it won’t do anything.” You stepped closer to the locked door and held up a hand. It glowed as you channeled into your magic. Closing your eyes, you traced your fingers along the lock’s sigils. “This lock is enchanted with psychic magic,” you hissed when the lock pulsed at you, stinging your hands. “And powerful psychic magic at that.”

Gale approached you from the side, humming skeptically. “I hate to be the one to disagree, but these are illusion sigils.” He traced his fingers over the same sigils as you, nodding to himself. “It’s more of a puzzle, judging by the patterns.”

You gave him a side glance, frowning. This was a recurring pattern in your journey. When it came to magic, you and Gale always had disagreements. “...Perhaps. But there’s psychic magic at work here, Gale. Not illusion.”

Gale raised a defensive hand. “There’s room for overlap, surely. However, I think I know the solution.” His eyes glowed as he reached into the Weave and mirrored the patterns on his palm. “If I follow the patterns, like so, I believe it’ll spell out the missing key.”

“Or,” You interjected and charged up a psychic pulse between your hands. “I can overload the sigils with psychic energy and destroy them. I understand this may not have been in your textbooks though.”

“Oh, charming.” Gale’s eyes flitted over to you disdainfully. “I had not planned on mentioning rank, but since we clearly are, I spent a considerable amount of time as Mystra’s chosen. Dismantling puzzles like these was my bread and butter.”

You weren’t backing down. You went through with your spell, directly interfering with Gale’s. “Don’t you mean former Mystra’s chosen?”

“Hey, c’mon, knock it off!” Karlach scolded. “If you two put half the energy into opening the door that you use to argue with each other, we’d be on our way back to camp by now! Now, hurry up.” Her stomach growled mid sentence. She sighed. “I’m starving.”

“Gladly.” Gale sunk deep into the Weave and figured out the patterns needed to unlock the door. Your psychic magic definitely helped smooth the path forward. Karlach cheered once the door opened.

“Fuck yeah!” She turned to both of you, beaming. “See what happens when you put your magical minds together?”

You followed her out of the dungeon, giving Gale a once over. “I see what happens when you pay attention at the wizard academy. The teachers must’ve adored you, Gale.” You huffed sarcastically. “Such a diligent schoolboy.”

Gale shook his head, smirking. “That couldn’t be any further from the truth! I slept through most of my lessons. And the trouble I found nearly got me expelled.” He chuckled. “Nevertheless, we can breathe fresh air now, thanks to our combined efforts. I hope we can work together again in more pleasant circumstances.”

“I’d sooner kiss a mind flayer.” You marched ahead of him, grumbling.

Wizards were so infuriating. Pompous, book-ridden, and proud. And yet, there was something to this Gale of Waterdeep. Something that interested you.

His hubris, as suffocating as it was, was tempered with true expertise. Passion, even. You’d never met anyone like him, not even in Baldur's gate. Magic was everything to you; it shielded you and brought your enemies to their knees. It was thrilling to meet someone who could match you. Plus, he had a gentle heart.

You didn’t plan on saving tiefling refugees, but beating up goblins was fun. During the attack, a tiefling child lost their parents. Neither you or Gale could bring them back to life. Still, he comforted them the best way he could.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He hugged them when they ran into his arms. “These are horrors that no child should have to go through. I…can’t bring them back, but I do have something that I hope can bring you some comfort.”

The tiefling child pulled away, sniffling. “You do?”

Gale conjured up a necklace of illusion magic. He handed it to the child. “This necklace is just for you. I’ll teach you the incantation to trigger the magic. Before doing the incantation, you need to think of a happy memory you have with your parents. Then, you’ll be able to relive that memory so long as you keep the necklace on.”

The child took the necklace and slipped it on. They toyed with the gem at the end, which glowed with a pleasant warmth. They smiled sadly, “Thank you.”

Something stirred in you. You didn’t name the feeling, but it was potent all the same. You felt hot and your heart raced. You’d never say it out loud, but you had a crush on Gale.

Instead of joining the festivities at camp, you turned in early for the night. You grabbed the first book you saw and settled onto your bedroll. Reading usually distracted you, especially when you read about magic. And yet, your mind was occupied by Gale. After failing to get to even the second page, you slammed the book shut. You tucked the book under your arm and ventured out to Gale’s tent. If you couldn’t benefit from the book, maybe he could.

Gale’s tent was a short walk away from yours. The party was dying down, but Gale usually stayed up studying. When you arrived at his tent, though, there was a conjuration of Mystra in his palm. He gazed at the image longingly, not realizing that you were watching. You stepped closer.

“Paying tribute?”

He flinched and whirled around. Mystra’s image disappeared, and he exhaled. “You startled me, (Y/N).” he breathed. “I suppose you could say I am, in a way. Though I can’t say my soul feels any lighter.”

You gave him a questioning look. He continued.

“I hope we can put our earlier disagreement behind us, (Y/N).” He said, taking a few steps towards you. Your heartbeat quickened. “It’s just been so long since I’ve collaborated with anyone regarding magic. I understand that we may have different approaches when it comes to wielding it.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “What’s done is done. Why were you just conjuring an image of the goddess?”

“Oh, that. Well..” He trailed off as if he was unsure of what to say. Then, he cleared his throat. “The longer we embark on our journey, the less connected I feel to the Weave. And, it’s everything to me. It always has been..” He sighed heavily, then looked at you with a sudden air of curiosity. “I know we haven’t seen eye to eye, but from one arcane user to another, would you like to channel the Weave with me? It’s a wonderful experience.”

You put down the book you were carrying, shifting awkwardly. “I’ve never done it. I never feel far from the Weave’s embrace, so I haven’t felt the need to.”

“Lucky you,” Gale chuckled. “Still, my offer stands. I can show you how to do it. What do you say?”

This was usually when you’d rebuff him. Not this time. Your curiosity piqued, and he did look handsome in the candlelight.

“Show me.”

Gale’s eyes brightened. He smiled. “As you wish. Follow my lead.”

Channeling the Weave was effortless. Gale was a wonderful teacher: patient, eager, and generous with praise. The air was sweet, and you felt safe in the Weave’s embrace. You closed your eyes, and your mind wandered again. To home. To Gale. To the thought of your lips pressed together in a passionate kiss—

The connection flickered. You forgot yourself. Your eyes snapped open and found Gale. He looked back at you with an equally surprised expression.

******

It took a week for you to face Gale again. You were terribly embarrassed. All of that melted away when, surprisingly, he reciprocated your feelings.

“I must be a powerful wizard indeed,” He was saying quietly to you during another one of your travels. “If I managed to charm the likes of you. I’m flattered, truly. And, might I say, you have incredibly good tastes.”

“Shh. Do you ever stop talking?” You returned in a hushed whisper, holding back a smile. You and Gale were walking behind Karlach and Astarion, and you didn’t want to catch their attention. Gale noticed the hint of your smile and gasped.

“Is that a smile I see? Oh, I’m afraid you’re done for.” He smirked and leaned into you. His breath tickled your ear, and you shivered. “I haven’t even begun to work my full array of charms on you.”

“What’re you two talking about?” Astarion cut into the private conversation, a curious glint in his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen (Y/N) speak so much.”

Your smile instantly fell. You frowned, “It’s nothing that concerns you, Astarion.”

“Oh, come on.” The spawn pouted. “You’re no fun at all. What’s a bit of gossip among friends?” He looked at the two of you expectantly, but he didn’t get an answer. He huffed. “Ugh, fine. Be that way.”

Once he turned away, Gale whispered to you again. “Let’s continue this conversation in private tonight, hmm? I could prepare a meal.”

“Fine,” you agreed, nodding. “I’ll bring the drinks.”

After dinner, you stayed in Gale’s tent to read together. Many of your companions were either asleep or involved in their own pursuits, so they didn’t notice your empty tent. You were buried under a purple blanket with a book on your lap with him beside you.

“Comfortable?” Gale asked as he cozied up to you. You nodded and pushed half of the blanket to him, which he happily accepted. “Excellent. Now, tell me, when did you realize you were hopelessly enamored with me?”

You looked up suddenly, and he was grinning. A blush creeped up on your cheeks. You smirked. “I believe I could ask you the same thing.”

“You very well could. But, since I asked first..” Gale’s grin widened. “I’ll admit, it is a long list. There are the impassioned debates we have, my words, my award winning smile…”

“Awards?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Who’s given you these awards?”

“Three people, actually.” Gale feigned offense. “Why, there’s me. Myself, who’s a great fellow…”

“Stop.” You nudged his arm, giggling. “You can’t give yourself awards. They don’t count.”

“According to whom?!”

You covered your face, muffling your giggles. “Gods, you’re ridiculous.”

Gale laughed. When you uncovered your face, he was smiling warmly. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. It’s a beautiful sound.”

Your blush deepened. The truth was that you didn’t laugh much, if at all. You usually spurned the company of others, but you felt comfortable in Gale’s presence. You shifted, turning your attention back to your book. “Thank you. Now, are we going to read, or am I to sing your praises all night?”

“Both sound wonderful, though I’d settle for hearing you laugh again.” He slid close to you so that your arms touched. You smiled, keeping your eyes down on your book.

“I’m sure there will be something I can laugh at you about soon.” You chuckled lightly and turned a page. “All in good time, love.”

“You’re terrible, you know?” Gale gently squeezed your side with his free hand. You fidgeted and jostled your book. A metaphorical lightbulb went off in his head, and you eyed him suspiciously.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Are you-”

“No.”

Gale chuckled. “I haven't finished my question.” He discarded his book to the side. He leaned into you with a small, knowing smile. “Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, are you ticklish?”

You shook your head. “I’m not.” You pressed your arm against your side, settling for holding your book with one hand. “You just startled me.”

“I see.” Gale hummed, rubbing his beard in thought. You thought that would’ve been the end of it, but after a brief pause, he was smiling again. “I do apologize, but I again disagree with you. The signs point to the opposite, I’m afraid.”

“There aren’t any-”

He squeezed your side again. This time, you squeaked and squirmed out of his reach. Gale smirked.

“Right. No signs.” He answered coyly, extending an arm out to reach you. He idly wriggled his fingers and you leaned away even further, unable to hide your grin. “None at all.”

“Gale,” You started warningly, propping yourself up onto your knees. This made your book tumble off of your lap. “I’m warning you. Don’t try it.”

“Surely there’s no harm in a bit of experimentation, is there?” Gale was testing the waters. He observed your body language. If he noticed the slightest bit of discomfort, he’d back off. Your gaze was sharp, but your wobbly grin told him that he hadn’t pushed too far. “You make one claim, I make another. Yet, it’s impossible for both claims to be correct.”

You put your hands out defensively as he inched closer. “D-Don’t come any closer.”

Gale stopped moving. His smirk broadened. “Of course. If that’s what you want, I will humbly oblige.”

Something was off. As a sorcerer, you could detect magic, and he definitely had a trick up his sleeve. It just wasn’t one you were expecting.

The sneaky wizard conjured a hologram of himself behind you. It had crept up behind you while you backed away from Gale. By the time you noticed it, it was too late. It fluttered its fingers into your sides, and you shrieked.

“Gahahle-?!” You let out a short laugh and curled into yourself. You shoved away the hands and whirled around to see the hologram. “Youhu bahahstard.”

“You’ve quite the mouth on you, don’t you?” Gale clicked his tongue, watching you and the hologram with amusement. “It’s actually one of the many qualities I like about you. That, your strength, and your obstinance.”

While he spoke, Gale’s hologram lightly poked at your torso, earning gasps and curses. If it reached a ticklish spot, it was rewarded with a startled giggle. Both Gale and his hologram wore the same smirk. “Are you absolutely sure that you’re not ticklish, my dear?” The wizard spoke over your snickering. “Based on my observations, that theory gets weaker with each passing minute.”

“I’m nohohot!” You bit your lips, muffling any would be giggles. You were losing the battle with the hologram’s hands. Instead, you checked it with your shoulder, trying to bump it hard enough to make it disappear. That tactic not only failed, but gave the hologram the opportunity to pull you in close. Now, with one arm around your waist, it gently pinched and scampered its fingers along your ribs. You exhaled sharply and bit your lip harder. “K-Knohock it off, Gahale-”

Gale held up his hands, feigning innocence. “I’m not doing anything. I haven’t moved, just like you asked.”

“G-Get rihihid of the holograham!”

“Oh!” He made a big show of realizing what you meant. His eyes flicked to the hologram and he charged up a spell in his hands. Or, it looked like he did. You knew better than that; he did nothing. He chuckled sheepishly. “Apologies, I’m afraid he has a mind of his own. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Youhuhu are deahad-”

Gale’s hologram teased your upper ribs with his fingertips. Hissing through clenched teeth, you squirmed in its hold, winding your arms tight around your torso. His fingers were trapped now, so he scribbled his fingers in a side to side motion along your ribs. The laughter was begging to be free, and it made itself known the longer you fought it off. But, if you were going down, you were going down swinging.

As a last ditch effort, you channeled your magic and sent out a small shockwave. It didn’t do any damage, but it did blow things around. Your goal was to break Gale’s concentration on his hologram spell, and it worked. Gale yelled as he stumbled back, and the hologram disappeared.

“Did you just-” Gale looked bewildered. He wasn’t hurt, but his scrolls and books were in a disarray. “Certainly a bit of tickling didn’t warrant an attack on my person!”

“It absolutely did.” You breathed. You rubbed the ticklish sensations out of your skin. “You attacked first, and I responded accordingly.”

“You did not respond accordingly!” Gale picked up one of the books that fell. He dusted off the cover. “You could’ve put a crease in my Magical Histories book.”

For whatever reason, that amused you. It amused you so much that you busted out laughing. Gale made the quick decision to cast a sound barrier spell around his tent, so that your loud laughter wouldn’t disturb your companion’s sleep. You laughed and laughed, collapsing on the floor, and Gale’s cheeks flushed.

“What is so funny?” Gale had to resist the urge to laugh along with you; your true laugh was highly contagious. Once you calmed down, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“You’re-” You couldn’t get through your sentence without snickering. “Youhu’re such a dork.”

“Wha- I will not stand for an attack on my person and my character.” Gale suddenly teleported to you, wrapping both of his arms around your frame. He scribbled across your sides, ribs, hips- anywhere he could reach. You squealed and, arms flailing, fell back into a fit of giggles.

Despite your ticklish panic, you still had some fight in you. While he was invested in tickling your ribs, a highly sensitive spot, you took the opportunity to tickle him back. You shot a hand up and buried it in the crook of his neck, tickling with purpose. Thankfully, he was ticklish too.

He immediately scrunched his neck, giggling hard. “O-Ohohoho nohoho you don’t!” He yelped and abandoned tickling you to wrestle with your hands. You grinned triumphantly.

“You left me no choice,” You wriggled your hand free from his neck and found his side, squeezing repeatedly. Gale giggled louder and gripped your wrist, but this didn’t deter you.

A tickle fight was on, and Gale was determined to win. There was a war of flailing arms and hands before the wizard emerged victorious. With a sudden burst of strength that was sure to make him sore in the morning, he pulled you down to the floor with him.

He set you on his lap, using one arm to pin your own arms to your sides. He didn’t hold on too tightly; you could’ve gotten away if you really wanted. He only held on with just enough strength to keep you from tickling him. Now, with his free hand, he kneaded into your hip bone. You lurched forward, giggling loudly, and he put his leg over yours to keep you put.

“Nahahahaha!” You squeaked as he jumped to your other hip bone. The floodgates were open now as you squirmed in his hold. “Gahahahahle!”

Now, it was his turn to grin triumphantly. He snaked his fingers up your sides, tweaking them with the lightest touch. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck. “There we are, dearest. Much better.” He chuckled into your skin, which only made you laugh louder. “And, if you won’t say it, I’m happy to do it for you. You,” He scampered up to your ribs, playing them like a piano. “Are,” A hand burrowed into your underarm, earning him yelps and cackles. “Definitely ticklish.”

You didn’t realize it at the moment, but the longer he tickled you, the more you sank into his arms. Soft, playful moments were a rarity, especially given the journey you were on. You’d never, ever say it out loud, but you were enjoying yourself. As smug as he was, Gale was being very gentle. “What do you say, (Y/N)? Do you think we could at least agree on that score?”

You hid your face with one hand, letting out a squealing laugh when his hand landed on your stomach. “NOHOHOHO!” You returned, laughing loudly, as you squirmed harder in his lap. He prodded into abdominal muscles and held you a little bit tighter.

“The signs are all there,” He whispered into your ear, teasing you, while he scribbled and poked into your belly. He let go of your arm so that he could use both hands to tickle. You didn’t realize the shift, so you curled into his arms instead of pushing his hands. “There’s the squirming, the squeals, and the laughter, which is quite enchanting…”

You finally grabbed onto his wrists, but still didn’t really stop him. It wasn’t until he gently kneaded his thumbs into the sides of your belly that you finally relented. “OKAHAHAHAY! I’M TIHIHCKLISH, GAHAHALE!”

He immediately stopped, rubbing his palms over your abdomen. “I’m happy we can finally agree on something.” He chuckled. He moved his hands off to the side. “And, I’ll let your cheeky comment slide. What’s more interesting to me is that you had the chance to move my hands, and yet you didn’t. I’m going to make another claim and suggest that you enjoyed yourself.”

You laid your head against his chest, breathing deeply. “And…if I did?” You tried to sound defensive, but there wasn’t any venom in your words. Gale smiled, resting his palm against your cheek.

“Then you’d only be more adorable to me, if that’s even possible.” His thumb rubbed along your skin as he took you in. “Gods, you’re beautiful. And that’s laugh- it’s something of the heavens, truly. I could listen to it all night.”

“But not tonight,” You tapped his nose, chuckling. “I’m exhausted.”

“No matter. I’m sure we’ll have many more nights like these to come. If you’d still like to join me, that is.”

You shifted in his lap so you could face him. You grinned. “I think I could make the time. Shall we seal the deal with a kiss?”

“I would love that.” Gale’s smile widened as he leaned into you, and you met him halfway, pressing your lips into his. Maybe it was because you’re both spellcasters, but the kiss was nothing short of magical.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tickling #bg 3 tickle #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #ler!gale #ler!galedekarios #lee!reader #lee!tav #gale dekarios #reader insert #gale of waterdeep #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav

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stardusted-bookworm · 6 months

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I love soft domesticity, especially in fandom spaces. I can't help it. Especially when characters who have been through so much deserve their small slices of happiness with the person/people they love.

I like the idea of Caleb leaving a mug of tea and dinner out for Essek just in the hopes that Essek would stop by as a reprieve from being on the run. I like the idea of Essek covering Caleb with a blanket when he finds him asleep on his desk after a long night of research.

I like the idea of Imogen and Laudna settling down in a cottage far from those who know them, but still keeping in touch with the Hells, where they're free to be themselves with minimal staring and witch hunts. I like the idea of Imogen smiling with her arms wrapped around Laudna as the warlock-sorceress talks excitedly with Paté about her new craft project.

I like the idea of an alternate universe where Keyleth didn't have to be separated from Vax by the machinations of higher powers. Where she could share the leading of her people with one of her favorite people. Where she can walk with him hand in hand and share the changing seasons and watch cherry blossoms dance in the wind.

I like the idea that Crowley and Aziraphale fight to be by each other's side in the end where they can lead wonderfully human lives. Where Aziraphale can keep closing the bookshop whenever he wants so that he and his partner may delight in each other's company without interruption. Where Crowley can curl around Aziraphale and be comforted by the sound of his partner breathing and reading.

I may not have read The Chalice of the Gods yet, but I like to believe in the idea of Percy Jackson leading as peaceful a life in New Rome with Annabeth as he can, pursuing his studies and carving a home that he's earned the right to carve after years of dangerous quests. I like the idea that Annabeth and him study side by side as midterms and finals come up, bantering and play-wrestling when either one of them needs a break. Annabeth always wins ofc ;)

I like soft domesticity. There is so much pain and suffering in the world that if I can, even for a moment, bring peace and happiness to the characters that have brought me nothing but comfort, then I will.

#fandom #critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #imodna #laudna #imogen temult #vaxleth #keyleth of the air ashari #vax'ildan #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase

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twstowo · 4 months

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Prologue [Sorceress!Yuu x OB!Characters]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: A powerful sorceress, capable of granting wishes, finds herself locked inside a mirror. To break free, she will need to seek the help of Yuu from another universe.

♡︎ The sorceress from the first universe is referred to with "she/her" pronouns, whereas the true main character (reader) is referred to as "they/them."

♡︎Inspired by the trope where the princess gets stuck in a tower but gets out by herself.

「 ✦ Next✦ 」

In the heart of a dark forest stood a sorceress, dwelling within her solitary tower. Legend speaks of her uncanny ability to transform any wish into reality, albeit at a cost. In days long past, she had wielded her magical prowess for noble causes, yet the allure of power proved too intoxicating. Once one savors its might, the craving for more consumes their soul.

Before this sorceress could execute her nefarious plans, she fell victim to a curse, locking her within the tower's walls, forever barred from the outside world.

As time passed, the people gradually forgot about her, and tranquility returned to the land. Meanwhile, the sorceress found solace in her secluded existence, immersing herself in the pursuit of knowledge, delving into tomes of spells, potions, and enchantments. Unknown to her, time slipped away, and she faded into the realm of myth and legend, becoming but a tale told to children.

Isolated in her tower, she longed for connection until an unexpected visitor arrived—a curious man seeking to make a wish. Yet, instead of a quick visit, he became captivated by the sorceress's wisdom, and soon, a profound bond grew between them. Weeks stretched into months, and their intimacy deepened, blossoming into a love that transcended the confines of her imprisonment. However, the man, driven by his affection, sought to liberate her from the tower's curse, sacrificing his wish for her freedom. In a tragic twist, he deliberately became taken by a dreadful curse—one that plagued all who sought wishes from her, gradually corroding their sanity.

The freed sorceress, grateful yet burdened by the unwanted consequences, watched in dismay as the man, once her savior, transformed into a tyrant ruling his kingdom with an iron fist. Unable to undo the curse's grip on him, she fled, compelled to escape his descent into madness, a consequence of her magic that she could not rectify.

Seeking to distance herself from the haunting memory of her lost love, the sorceress embraced her newfound freedom, venturing into a world vastly transformed during her tower-bound years. She traveled across kingdoms, encountering six more men, each with their unique dreams and desires. Yet, inevitably, they too succumbed to the enchantment of her beauty, intellect, and mastery of magic.

One by one, they approached her, fervently wishing for their heart's desires, only to be ensnared by the curse that clouded their minds, mirroring the fate of the first man. Each succumbed to the same tragic spiral of losing their sanity, trapped within the vicious cycle born from their wishes.

Haunted by the knowledge that her powers led to this relentless cycle of despair, the sorceress carried the weight of their curse, burdened by the unintended consequences of her abilities.

Faced with a profound sense of helplessness and remorse, the sorceress found herself drawn back to the confines of her tower,battling with the weight of her actions. The toll of her powers had caused irreversible harm to those she had grown to care for, leaving a trail of shattered lives in her wake.

Overwhelmed by regret and the desperate desire to undo the havoc she had wrought, she yearned to erase the consequences of her wishes. However, in a cruel twist, once the wish was granted, it became an unalterable reality, binding the person to its irreversible effects. She realized the bitter irony of her deepest desires – longing to break free from her isolation had inadvertently led to the ruin of seven lives, all because she sought companionship and a glimpse beyond her tower's confines.

Haunted by the inescapable truth that she could never amend the past, the sorceress struggled with the agony of longing for a return to the solitude she once wished to escape. Trapped within the paradox of her own wishes, she yearned for a reality where she had never ventured beyond the safety of her tower's walls.

In a tragic turn, the sorceress's fate descended further into darkness. Amid her quest for undoing the curses of her once friends, an unsettling disturbance outside her tower drew her attention. Peering out, she saw—six of the seven men she had cursed. Their beings exuded the overwhelming aura of the curses that had consumed them entirely. Lost within their own tormented thoughts, their hearts filled with a relentless thirst for vengeance against her, their memories clouded by self-loathing and venomous resentment toward the sorceress.

Knowing that confrontation would only perpetuate the cycle of suffering, she stepped out, asking for forgiveness, her pleas falling upon deafened ears blinded by fury and hatred. Together, driven by their collective anguish and rage, they devised a punishment more merciless than mere imprisonment within a tower. Instead, they imprisoned her within a mirror—a cruel fate that denied her any semblance of escape or freedom.

Helpless and trapped within her mirrored confinement, the sorceress became a prisoner. They, in turn, carried the mirror to their kingdoms, parading her before the world she would forever be denied, a mocking reminder of the life she could never experience again. Forced to witness the outside world she yearned for, yet eternally barred from touching or experiencing it, the sorceress endured an unending torment crafted by the very souls she inadvertently harmed.

Trapped within the confinements of the mirror world, the sorceress found herself in a relentless pursuit of an escape, weaving incantations and spells in a desperate bid to break free. Despite her unwavering determination, her magic yielded no solutions within the confines of the mirrored realm.

Realization dawned upon her—a solution lay beyond the confines of her mirrored prison. She needed aid from someone external, but trust was a scarce commodity in her world. Amidst her predicament, a glimmer of hope arose: herself. She knew the depths of her own intentions, the truths that guided her, and the longing to erase the unintended consequences of her actions.

With a resolve forged from the depths of her isolation and remorse, she sought a way to reach beyond the mirror's boundaries, attempting to communicate with her own self outside.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

‎♡‧₊˚Thank you for reading!

「 ✦ Next✦ 」

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ilovelovewithallmyheart · 7 months

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Back When We Were Younger

TW: Mentions of drowning, throwing up and fight scenes

“𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙢.”

𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙩. 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙. 𝙃𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙙, 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙪𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚.

“𝘽𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fate is a strange thing. The stronger it tries to force two people apart, the more those two people are bound to be together. Even as misunderstandings last and the years pile on, Gojo and Y/n are bound to meet once again. And once they do, something beautiful blossoms in their neglected garden.

Hey guys! It's the author here. I'm imploring you guys to give this a read. It's actually really, really beautiful. I cried a bit while writing the end. There's so much angst, and it all gets tied up in a little ribbon in the end. So please read it all!

If you guys have any requests for one-shots, please request!

Word count: 6k

Time to read: 30 minutes

Okay i swear I'm terrible at writing one shots but it's so so so worth it!

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“Don’t marry him.”

His face was set. Hard. He took off his blindfold, making himself look more sincere and vulnerable.

“Be with me.”

*12 years ago*

“What’s your type, Geto?” Shoko suddenly asked.

The entire second-year class was sprawled out on the floor, tired and flattened out by Yaga’s training program.

The entire class seemed to cease breathing due to how sudden the question was.

Geto chuckled warmly. “Where did that come from?”

“C’mon Geto answer the question!” Gojo swatted Geto from his position on the floor.

“Gojo, you answer too.” Y/n giggled.

“Huuuh!”

Shoko smiled knowingly at Y/n. As Y/n’s best friend, she knew about Y/n’s decade-long crush on Gojo.

A fruitless crush that was terribly one-sided.

Even after all these years Gojo was still childishly clueless.

“Hmmm.” Geto’s deep voice seemed to rumble. “I would say…someone that is intelligent. A girl that is witty.”

“BOH-RING.” Gojo cupped his hands to his mouth like a megaphone.

“I prefer a tall busty woman with a big ass.” From Y/n’s spot on the floor, she saw Gojo wink and lick his lips at Geto.

This was the most Y/n ever found out up to that point about Gojo’s type.

And, to Y/n’s absolute dismay, she was definitely NOT tall, busty, and nor of big ass.

A beat paused, broken by Shoko making an understanding sound. “Yeaaah? I never took you for that kind of guy.”

Another pause, in which Shoko tried to catch Y/n’s eye. Y/n smiled at Shoko jokingly, but Shoko knew Y/n well enough to know that she was crushed.

“What? Every guy wants that kind of girl!” Gojo put his arms up in defense, further adding to Y/n’s bad mood.

Great. Now he basically just said that I’ll die unloved.

Y/n stole a glace at Gojo. He looked deep in thought, his cerulean blue eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Powerful.”

“Hmm?” Y/n queried.

Gojo turned his head to look a Y/n.

His feet were pointed to the right of the room, while Y/n was facing left. Nonetheless, their heads were still right next to eachother, only inches apart. “I’ll only date women who are stronger or on par with me in power.” He grinned, and Y/n couldn’t help smiling too. The limited space between them caused a roaring in Y/n’s ears and she quickly turned her head away before Gojo could see her bright red blush forming.

The words suddenly sunk in.

“Bruh.” Y/n died inside.

“Dude-“

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA” Shoko busted out laughing.

“At this point, you’re better off dating yourself.” Geto wheezed, and Gojo good-naturedly laughed as well.

Y/n was the only one not laughing. As the weakest sorceress in the class, this was not a laughing matter.

Y/n wanted to leap out of the classroom window and drown herself in the river in the moonlight.

“Girls’ turn.” Gojo pressed, after everyone settled down.

Shoko sighed. “I’m not that romantic.”

“Oh come on Shoko!” Y/n whined. Shoko sighed again. “Someone that…is rich.”

“Eyyyyy that’s my girl.” Gojo sat up, and leaned on his arms. Shoko immediately shot up too, glaring at Gojo with intense hate. “Never call me that again.”

Gojo and Shoko always bickered, and that set them off once again. Over the loud yelling and back-to-back quips, Geto sat up too and moved closer to Y/n. They were the grounded duo, the people that were the most sane. “What about you, Y/n?”

Y/n sat up slowly. The thing is, her type was the complete opposite of Gojo’s character.

“Someone that can settle down with me and start a family.” She smiled at Geto, appreciating him. Y/n was often forgotten in the class, not having any characteristics that were cool. She blended in with the crowd. But Geto would always seem to find her, even when she was surrounded by a thousand other people.

Somewhere in the back of Y/n’s mind, she still believed that Gojo could settle down with her.

Geto looked up in thought. “That first year seems like a good match. The blondie. What was his name…Kento Nanami!”

Y/n immediately looked over at Shoko. From day one she was preaching that she should go out with Nanami. Shoko winked.

Y/n turned back to Geto. “You think?” She laughed and blushed a little.

Gojo saw Shoko’s wink and stopped arguing. Then he turned to Y/n and saw her blush. A few seconds passed when he could feel a deep falling sensation in his chest, then it was gone.

For the next few weeks Y/n felt disturbed. Gojo’s type deeply ruined her peace. She needed closure, something that she could tick off on his list to make her feel better. She could try to do squats, but that was about it. Her cursed technique was a lost cause.

Changing the shape of air.

What a lame excuse for a technique.

It was a Saturday night and Gojo was off in Tokyo doing God knows what. Geto locked himself in his room, probably reading a poetry book and Shoko was out with friends.

Y/n was in the training room. She had nowhere else to be. To pass the time Y/n played around with her technique a little bit. She condensed the air tightly and pushed the mannequins around, the air block being invisible. That was the thing with her technique. No glory to it at all. It was all invisible, and her cursed energy was invisible too.

“I’ll only date women who are stronger or on par with me in power.”

How can I become stronger? How can I stop being so weak?

“You need to push yourself, Y/n. Force yourself to do things out of the realm of possibility.” Yaga always said.

“I need to push.” Y/n concentrated on her words.

PUSH.

She literally condensed the air even tighter than she used to. The air was so tight it was super solid. “I wonder…” She thought aloud. She sharpened the end of the block. Made it thinner.

Then, she sent it clean through the mannequin’s neck. It fell to the floor with a thud.

“Holy crap.”

She tried it again. And again. Slice, slice, slice. All the mannequins were now headless by a range of different air weapons. Knives, swords, katanas, multiple weapons at once too.

For the first time in Y/n’s life, she felt powerful.

It was all so easy. She could slice the necks clean off the curses without any effort, and they never even knew she was there. They didn’t even know what killed them.

Y/n felt the power surge through her. She knew, deep down, that she was powerful. More powerful than Shoko. More powerful than Geto.

That final push was all that she needed to unlock the chamber that held her full potential.

And it terrified her.

A person so used to having nothing was now granted everything.

Y/n didn’t think of herself as a masochist, but she hid her power. Pretended to be the same. She didn’t want things to change.

She also knew deep down that if she revealed her power, Gojo would finally see her.

And that was the real masochistic part of Y/n.

She didn’t want to be seen that way by Gojo. A person only with power. She wanted him to fall for her, not with the power she held.

In the Kyoto sister exchange event, she purposefully got out early and pouted about it in the end. She purposefully stuffed up her one-on-one fights. She purposefully didn’t say a word when Gojo proudly announced that he mastered his domain expansion, knowing that she mastered her's months ago.

She felt wrong about skipping out on hard missions, like when Gojo and Geto had to escort Tengen’s Star Plasma Vessel.

(SEASON 2 SPOILERS AHEAD)

She felt terrible when the mission failed. A lingering thought in her mind reminded her that if she was on that mission, the Vessel wouldn’t have died.

She felt horrible when Gojo lay on the floor, about to die.

She hated herself for allowing Yaga to usher her and Shoko into a safe room when she should’ve been out there fighting.

And she always blamed herself for Geto turning over to the dark side.

*2 months later*

Y/n sat on the veranda late at night eating ice cream mochi. She couldn’t sleep. The guilt wasn’t as bone-shattering as it was, but it still throbbed from time to time. And this was one of those nights.

Gojo was still strong. He still put on a brave face for her and Shoko.

And Shoko and Y/n never spoke out about those nights when Gojo went missing and returned with his clothes all ruffled and hickeys on his neck. That was his coping mechanism.

“Isn’t it strange, Shoko?” Y/n said vacantly to Shoko one night.

“What is?” Shoko watched with narrowed eyes as Gojo sauntered back to his dorm, clearly drunk and dishevelled.

“Isn’t it ironic how one person’s coping mechanism is the one thing causing another person to not be able to cope at all?” Y/n thought about that sentence from time to time. And she thought about that sentence while she ate her mochi.

Gojo was at that point in his relationship where he never even came back at night at all. He never spoke of her, never brought her out to meet Y/n and Shoko. She wasn’t ever mentioned. There was never a name. Y/n just referred to her in her head as ‘the other woman’.

On that mochi feast night Lana Del Rey’s ‘The Other Woman’ played on Y/n’s spotify shuffle the exact moment Gojo swayed through the Jujutsu Tech Gates. (recommended that you play it while you read)

“I wonder what she’s like.” Y/n said softly to herself. A burning sensation filled her chest, the same one that always came when she thought about the other woman.

He walked drunkenly over to his dorm while the music played.

♩The other woman has time to manicure her nails♩

♩The other woman is perfect where her rival fails♩

♩And she’s never seen with pin curls in her hair anywhere♩

In order to get to his dorm, he needed to pass Y/n’s dorm. He staggered towards her and she clenched her fists.

♩The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume♩

♩The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room♩

As Gojo turned right to his dorm building he swayed and fell.

Y/n immediately sprang up to help him.

She lifted his limp body off the floor and cradled his head. She observed his outfit. A button-up that was buttoned up wrong, jeans that were zipped but not buttoned, a red angry hickey on his neck and red lipstick marks all over his mouth and chest.

He looked at her through heavy lids, his beautiful, beautiful blue eyes roaring with the ocean’s waves.

♩And there are never toys that’s scattered everywhere♩

“Gojo, come on, stand up.” Y/n attempted to heave Gojo upwards, but he groaned in protest. Seeing Gojo in that kind of state with another woman’s lipstick all over him made her want to pick him up and throw him into the river, and then drown herself alongside him.

♩And when her old man comes to call♩

♩He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen♩

Y/n gave up on trying to move him and just sat with his head in her lap. She stared into his eyes and he dimly stared back. She sighed. “Did she kick you out? You usually stay at your girlfriend’s house all night.”

A glint returned to his eyes. He grimly smiled. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He replied in a thick voice. The first thing he said all night. “And it’s none of your business.” A harsher cut to his words sent a fresh wave of despair to wash over Y/n.

♩’Cause to be by her side♩

“You forgot to turn your Infinity on” Y/n realised with a start. She glared at Gojo. “That was stupid and reckless of you.” The first time she touched him. And it was because he wanted to get touched by the other woman.

“No,” He murmured lowly.

“I never have my infinity on when I’m with you.”

♩It’s such a change from old routine♩

Y/n’s mouth parted in shock and her arms lifted hesitantly. Strength seemed to return to Gojo’s limbs and he stood up and looked at Y/n before turning to his dorm.

Y/n was still on the ground as she watched Gojo walk to his dorm, his back to her.

♩The other woman will always cry herself to sleep♩

♩The other woman will never have his love to keep♩

♩And as the years go by, the other woman will spend her life alone♩

The next week came and Y/n felt even worse about Geto, and now about Gojo. She was confused about what he meant by his infinity, and even more so when Gojo acted like nothing happened. She was staring at the moon as it slowly began its ascent into the sky.

‘The Other Woman’ was playing again, and was just about to end.

It felt like a knife was stabbed into her heart and twisted left and right at what she saw next.

Gojo.

Leaving the high school with another buttoned-up shirt, this time with a wrapped-up gift.

♩Alone♩

*10 years later*

Y/n left the Jujutsu world as soon as she graduated. She left as a grade 4 sorcerer, meaning she wasn’t of any use to the higher-ups anyway. She got a job as a pharmacist and had been living peacefully and happily ever since. She still contacted Shoko occasionally, but she cut all contact with Gojo.

She never attempted to contact him, and he never attempted to contact her.

It was better that way, Y/n believed. He was a ghost of her sorceress past, a dark and twisted part of her life that she decided to leave behind. Y/n never bothered to think about her feelings about him. In the past 10 years, her feelings for Gojo didn’t fade, truthfully. They were beaten down and thrown to the side, ignored for a decade.

In truth, she had seen someone lately. A gorgeous tall man called Asahi who was the CEO of a technology company. She didn’t think anything of it.

It wasn’t that big of a deal.

He’s just a billionaire, that’s it.

It was just one date.

But one date turned into two dates.

Two dates turned into three.

Three dates turned into four.

Four dates turned into a casual stay at the Peninsula Tokyo (one of the most expensive luxury hotels).

It came to a point where the relationship was becoming serious, and it scared Y/n. At the point they were headed…it was a clear road to marriage. She couldn’t even count the number of dates they had gone on anymore. And she had no idea why she wasn’t excited.

The next date was to an expensive restaurant in Tokyo, the day before Christmas.

Y/n got ready beforehand. She put on a red dress, and black heels and styled her hair in curls.

(Jujutsu Kaisen Zero Movie Spoilers Ahead!!)

She did a quick once over in the mirror and was overall happy with what she looked like. She got two notifications on her phone.

Asahi:

Can’t wait to have dinner with you. Are you a fan of soft-shell crabs?

Y/n smiled and replied:

That sounds great, but that’s not on the menu?

She checked her other message. Little did she know that that message would change her life forever.

Shoko:

Right now. Shinjuku. Urgent.

Y/n’s heart dropped to her stomach. This could only mean one thing. Jujutsu chaos. And if Shoko asked for help from a Grade 4 sorceress, it was urgent. Y/n didn’t even change out of her dress. She found a Fox mask to cover her face and urgently sent a text to Asahi cancelling the date.

Public transport wouldn’t get her there in time. She had a hunch. So, with her red dress billowing behind her and expensive heels click-clacking she jumped from roof to roof, her curled hair streaming behind her in the moonlight.

Meanwhile, Asahi got her text and sadly clutched the small black box containing a diamond ring inside.

The skyline of Shinjuku was horrid. Dozens of low-level curses flew in, blocking out the sky. Gruesome and oozing, Y/n watched in terror, her feet rooted to the spot. She shakily stepped to the ledge of the roof and watched as Jujutsu Sorcerors and students alike fought with all their might. The night breeze made her shiver in her dress.

Then, taking a deep breath, she created hundreds of blades in the air, more than she had ever done before.

“Oh?” A student said, from down below. “Kaeru, is it just me, or did the air just get really thin here?”

Y/n took a deep breath.

Then she pushed the blades forward, stabbing and decapitating hundreds of curses all at once.

Students dodged in terror as the bodies plunged from the sky, while Sorcerors stared in amazement.

“Who did that?”

“Was it Gojo?”

“I can’t detect any cursed energy,” Nanami mumbled. He easily dodged the severed head of a curse. He inspected the head but found no trace of cursed residue.

He scanned the skyline, and his eyes widened. A woman, in a red dress with a mask on.

(I just made this bit up, so the spoilers are over for the movie!)

A fresh wave of monsters appeared. This time, they were even more powerful than the rest. “Special grade.” Y/n’s eyes widened in horror. Giant, deformed curses stumbled in, grabbing sorcerers and ripping them apart. The blood of a young student splayed out onto the streets.

Y/n remembered Geto, and how she failed him. She remembered being young and weak. Then she remembered her power.

She jumped off the roof and summoned a large blade to slice through the giant’s head in a second. She then landed on the giant’s head as it hit the ground. More giants stumbled in. “EVERYONE GET BACK!” Y/n roared. Registered Sorcerers ushered the students and themselves back in awe. Nanami took off his goggles, his jaw slack.

Four special-grade giants thundered in, their roars cut short by their bodies being sliced to shreds spontaneously by a range of hand movements made by Y/n. The slices fell to the floor with a large thud and Y/n was covered in Curse Blood. The crowd of sorcerors were silent. Y/n panted heavily, then turned to the crowd. “Does anyone know where the really deadly curses are?”

“Who are you?” A student asked. Y/n shook her head. Nanami cleared his throat. “With Gojo.” She turned towards him. Her eye twitched behind the mask. “And where might he be?”

“The roof of the Shinjuku Center Building.”

Y/n nodded. “Thank you." Then she was off.

She thundered down the streets.

“With Gojo.”

She mentally prepared herself to meet him again. That night with the mochi was the last time they actually spoke one-on-one. 10 years ago.

He won’t know it’s me, right?

A boom erupted above Y/n, and debris rained down from above. She looked up and saw a cockroach curse with a dozen eyes attack Gojo relentlessly. She saw him dodge and attack. She’d observed Gojo training enough times in the past to know that he’d tired out. His attacks were less sharp and the dodges required more energy.

She created air platforms ascending to the roof and began climbing up. Gojo was too focused on the battle to notice her. Y/n paused for a moment. Gojo looked different.

He was taller, but more muscular and less lanky. His face was sharper and less soft-looking. But his eyes, they were always and forever the same eyes that she fell in love with when she was seven.

The cockroach lunged at Gojo and he didn’t react fast enough. Springing into action, Y/n jumped in front of him just in time to push the cockroach back with an air barrier. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, she decided to show off. She stuck a dozen sharp hooks into the cockroach and it bellowed out a scream. Then she extended out her arms in a sharp movement and the hooks dislodged, ripping out the flesh of the cockroach’s head into hundreds of pieces. It fell to the floor in a splat.

Silence.

She was panting, hard. She turned backwards to see Gojo with his eyes wide open. They darted over to the cockroach’s corpse, then fixed on Y/n. He looked like he just saw a ghost. Y/n felt her hands itching to rip the mask off her face. She clenched her fists and jumped off the building.

Gojo stepped over to the ledge of the building and watched her disappear into Shinjuku’s streets.

Y/n.

On Christmas day (the next day) Asahi proposed to Y/n at their rescheduled dinner.

She said yes.

On New Year’s day, Y/n was working the overnight shift at her pharmacy. Technically, it was already the New Year. Y/n looked at her watch: 2:24 am.

She sighed. No one ever came to the pharmacy at this hour. Idly, she examined the diamond ring Asahi gave her. It sparkled in all of its 18 carats. She couldn’t even fathom how much that would’ve cost.

In truth, she was happy that she was getting married to Asahi. She just wasn’t…thrilled. As a little girl, she pictured her wedding a billion times; the excitement, the giddiness and pictured that she would wake up next to the love of her life for the rest of her days. It didn’t feel at all like how she pictured it. It felt normal. To be fair, maybe the reason was because she always pictured Gojo next to her on that wedding aisle.

The bell on the pharmacy door rang suddenly. She immediately put her ring in her pocket. She didn’t want to lose it or have it slide off her finger.

“Welcome to-“ Her voice faltered at the end.

“Happy New Year Y/n.” Gojo was dressed in a warm coat, his hands tucked into his pockets. He had sunglasses on, even though it was the dead of night.

Y/n couldn’t believe that Gojo was there, at her small pharmacy.

“Happy New Year Gojo.” She smiled and put on her best clueless voice. “Man, I haven’t seen you in 10 years!” She let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“I bought this on the way here.” He placed a stuffed toy cockroach on the counter. Y/n stared at the cockroach, gobsmacked.

Is he trying to be funny?

“Oh haha!!” Another hysterical laugh. “That’s random.” She smiled and grabbed the cockroach, fiddling with it, refusing to look at Gojo. She could feel his eyes boring into her.

He yanked the cockroach out from her arms.

“Thank you.” Gojo’s voice was sincere. Y/n finally looked up.

“Thank you for saving me, Y/n.” He placed the cockroach back on the counter. “Haha from what?” She realised regretfully that her voice sounded extremely strained and fake. Gojo smiled wide easily. “How did you get so strong? It was SUPER cool what you did back there.” He hoisted himself up on the counter, and faced Y/n.

He’s going to be here a while.

Y/n smiled.

“I was always like that.” Gojo’s smile was immediately wiped from his face. “I just…didn’t reveal it.” “Ohhh, really?” He looked deep in thought. “You know, you could be as strong as me!” He dangled his legs childishly. Y/n scoffed and swatted Gojo’s legs. “No way.”

“Yes way.” he grabbed Y/n’s shoulders. “Why were you in a dress though?”

Y/n hesitated but decided to go for it.

“I was supposed to go on a date with my fiance.” She smiled painfully. Gojo’s arms went limp and fell from her shoulders. Y/n swallowed a lump in her throat. “Would you like to see the ring?” Gojo regained his happy face with difficulty. He nodded.

She took out the heavily diamond-clad ring from her pocket and handed it to Gojo. He stared at it in his hand. “Wow haha Cubic Zirconia! He couldn’t get diamonds?” He smiled like a puppy at Y/n. “No, it’s 18-carat diamonds.” His mouth twitched. “Haha, he must be rich then!” He didn’t look like he was laughing.

“Yeah, he’s a part of the Asahi family.” She took the ring back and put it in her pocket. A vein was popping in his forehead. “Yes, but I’m a part of the Gojo Clan.”

Y/n smiled blankly at Gojo. “yes…I know.” She deadpanned.

He got off the counter abruptly. “See you later!” He smiled sweetly again.

Y/n nodded cautiously, unsure of when ‘later’ was.

On the way home, Gojo punched a bronze statue to the floor.

Three days passed with no Gojo.

Y/n didn’t have work that day and decided to stay and chill at her apartment. The cockroach plushie from Gojo was placed on the couch.

The doorbell rang, and Y/n got up to answer it. “pizza pizza pizza!” she muttered happily. She opened the door, and there stood Gojo. He had to tilt his head down to fit in the doorframe. She frowned. “You’re not pizza.”

“No I’m not.” He still smiled. “Come on, I’ve planned a fun day ahead!” He grabbed Y/n and sped out of the building. “Where are we going?” Y/n stumbled after him. He looked back and grinned. “Our old high school!”

“Wow, I’ve missed this place” Y/n looked around the old high school. It looked exactly like how it used to 11 years ago. Nostalgia hit her like a train. The river that she felt tempted to drown herself in at least twice a day, and the famous dorms. She stared at the spot where Gojo collapsed and fell, then carried on.

“I teach here.” Gojo stuck his tongue out playfully. “Oh wow…”

Gojo guided her to their old classroom. She flashed back to that moment 11 years ago when their class was on the floor, talking about their types. Back when everything was rosy. “Why did you bring me here?” Y/n asked. “Because,” Gojo sat on the teacher’s desk, “we are going to catch up.”

“Where were you for 10 years?” He took off his blindfold.

They ended up talking for the entire day.

Everything felt like how it was when they were teenagers. Laughing easily, remembering funny moments. They ended up on the floor just like that day.

A bug landed on Gojo’s chest and Y/n quickly swatted it away. “Oh.” She observed. “What?” Gojo hummed. “Your infinity,” she frowned. “It isn’t on.” He turned to face her. “I told you. When I’m with you it’s never on.”

She smiled. “I remember that.” Y/n was glad Gojo could remember it too. After he acted like nothing happened, Y/n thought that was just her imagination. The butterflies that she knew all too well fluttered in her stomach.

Shoko walked through the halls and spotted the two of them, sprawled out over the door. She grinned. “Oh, Shoko! You’re here?” Gojo patted a spot on the floor next to him. Shoko gave Gojo a knowing look. She knew that Gojo was aware she was on campus. He just wanted alone time with Y/n.

“Isn’t this just like old times?” Y/n commented after Shoko lay on the floor with them. No one mentioned the absence of Geto.

“God, back then I was insufferable.” Shoko laughed. “I can’t believe you’re engaged to a billionaire Y/n.” Y/n texted Shoko the day before about it.

Gojo laughed. “I know.” Shoko glared at Gojo.

“Back then, I was really short.” Y/n stared up at the ceiling. “You were. I used to pat your head all the time.” Shoko chuckled tenderly. Gojo stayed silent.

“Back then, I was head over heels for Y/n.” Gojo said softly.

“Honestly, I still am a little bit.”

Shoko sucked in a breath. Y/n’s stomach DROPPED. She shot upwards and ran out of the class.

Shoko sat up too and slapped Gojo. “I can’t believe you said that to an engaged woman!” Gojo sat up too. “What? I said back then!” He put his arms up in joking surrender, but a deep frown settled on his face.

“And then you said you still like her!”

Shoko glared at Gojo. “Back then, Y/n was head over heels for you too! She’s been in love with you since you were seven!” Gojo’s arms dropped.

“So…all those nights in front of the dorms,” he looked at her, “when I went into the city and she was watching…” his voice was soft and his face was ghostly.

She nodded grimly.

“did Y/n still like me…?”

Shoko nodded.

“until when?” Gojo held his breath.

“she never stopped.” Shoko looked at him.

“Even now?”

Shoko glared at him. “Yes.”

*Last night*

Shoko and Y/n stayed up late talking about Y/n’s engagement.

“I can’t believe you got over Gojo. I thought you never would.” Shoko said over the phone. The line crinkled.

“I never did.” Y/n sighed. “I just ignored it because I knew I could never get over him.”

Shoko was speechless. “So do you still like him?”

“Yes. But nothing will ever happen and I’m getting married” Y/n sounded like she was on the brink of despair.

“Do you love Asahi?” Shoko asked. “Yes.” Y/n replied.

A pause.

“Do you love him more than Gojo?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever love someone like I love Gojo.”

*Present Day*

“I don’t think I’ll ever love someone like I love Gojo.”

Y/n was furiously running down the steps of Jujutsu Tech.

The clouds gathered together to let down a torrential downpour from the heavens.

I knew this was a mistake. I knew and I came here anyway.

Gojo loves me.

He loved me in the past.

Then why did he-

“Y/n!” Gojo ran after her. He easily caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder.

“No, no, no.” Y/n could feel tears in her eyes. “Don’t you dare touch me. Don’t you dare-“ Her lip trembled.

“Don’t you dare tell me you love me after making me watch you go to that girl in Tokyo!” Her voice was thick and her eyes filled with tears.

She quickly went down some more stairs but Gojo caught up.

“You never told me that-“ He tried, his arms trying to grab her.

She slapped his arm away. “That doesn’t matter!” She practically growled.

“Geto was gone, okay? I was broken, and I-“ Gojo began, following Y/n down the stairs.

“So were we all!” Y/n cried. She tried not to slip in the rain. “I thought Geto leaving was my fault!”

She paused on the stairs, looking angrily at Gojo. He stared at her, shocked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gojo asked, pain written all over his face.

“Because you were out getting gifts, and presents for your girlfriend-“

“She was never my girlfriend-“

“And coming back drunk and messy-“

“That gift was meant for you!”

Y/n stopped. She looked at Gojo with furrowed brows.

“I was going to ask her if it was a good gift for you. If you’d like it. We never emotionally connected, okay? Hell, I - I don’t even remember her name!”

Y/n went dead silent.

*11 years ago**

Gojo remembered that night perfectly.

It was a memory he revisited often.

He was blindingly drunk, and when he stepped through the school gates he saw Y/n, sitting listening to music.

When he fell and his head was in Y/n’s lap, he honestly thought he died.

She was so beautiful. Her hair, her eyes, it was all in the moonlight. He could basically see the kindness and compassion in her eyes. She looked like an angel. Gojo wouldn’t mind dying if she was the angel greeting him to the afterlife.

“Did she kick you out? You usually stay at your girlfriend’s house all night.” He smiled at the ridiculousness of the thought.

Why would I date anyone when there’s Y/n?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He didn’t want her to concern herself with the woman he went to. Y/n was too good for that. “And it’s none of your business.”

Y/n hands were on his chest, and they felt so warm. Gojo knew he could stay there happily forever. She rebuked him for turning his infinity off the entire night, but it was never on when he was with her. Just if she wanted to touch him.

He kept holding onto that chance. He kept waiting for that day to come, so it was never on.

The next week, he bought a necklace for Y/n, followed by a handwritten note.

I hope she likes it.

Gojo never gave it to her. For some reason, Y/n distanced herself from him.

And he never heard from her for the next 10 years. He wanted to text and call. He knew where she was, what she was studying, where she worked. He always checked up on her, making sure she was safe.

But Y/n looked happy with her new life. Gojo didn’t want to take that away from her.

When Y/n flew back into his life, he thought it was a sign. His feelings for her were back, now stronger than ever. And he was determined to make sure she never left him again.

**Present Day**

Y/n spluttered. Her jaw was clenched. She searched Gojo’s face, then replied. “I’m leaving now, okay? I’m getting married, and I can’t be doing this. My fiance wouldn’t like it.” She turned and left.

“Screw what your husband wants! What do you want?” He stepped forward, but Y/n conjured up a wall. She paused. “it doesn’t matter what I want. It hurts too much to be with you.”

She left him there, in the rain.

*8 months later*

It was Y/n’s wedding day.

She spent those 8 months plunging her entire soul into wedding planning to drown out her misery.

The wedding was nothing short of glamorous. Asahi made sure of that. The venue was huge too - Asahi had a lot of friends. He told Y/n to invite everyone she knew as well, even if they weren’t super close. She hesitated to send Gojo an invitation but decided to send one anyway. 10 years of knowing him and loving him couldn’t be undone in a single day, no matter how painful that day was.

Asahi and Y/n decided to have their ceremony in the Asahi company’s skyscraper at night. There were professional hair stylists and makeup artists prepping her for the ceremony. After they were done, Y/n slipped on her wedding dress.

She was absolutely adamant that she had a classic wedding dress. None of the ruffles and lace and 7-foot-long veil nonsense. A beautiful white silk dress with a wide neckline and a cinched waist. Perfect for Y/n, and it made her look stunning.

She still couldn’t fathom that she was getting married. That this was the beginning of forever. She couldn’t believe that she was getting married, and not to Gojo.

Suddenly the chandeliers were too bright. The roses in the room too fragrant. The skyscraper too cramped.

She quietly slipped away to the rooftop as the guests started arriving.

On the rooftop, the bustling sounds of the city soothed her. The night breeze gently caressed her red face. She could finally breathe again.

She hoped she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

Her sorceress instincts were telling her there was someone on that rooftop with her. And she knew exactly who it was.

“creeping on me on my wedding day Gojo?” Y/n joked. He stepped out from the shadows. He smiled. He was wearing a tuxedo, and he looked good. More better than good. It caused a twist of an unexplainable emotion in Y/n’s heart.

Y/n smiled, causing a stab of pain in Gojo’s heart. “Thank you for coming to my wedding Gojo. I’m sorry about what happened the last time we met up.” Gojo’s strong facade slipped. He was trying to be strong for Y/n. He didn’t want to ruin her day. But just the thought of Y/n, his girl, being gone forever…

“You look really beautiful, Y/n”

Just stick to the plan, Gojo.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and brought out a wrapped gift box from behind his back.

Y/n stopped breathing.

“is this-?” She softly picked up the box.

“From all those years ago.” Gojo confirmed.

The gift box that Gojo was supposed to give Y/n 11 years ago. The wrapping was old and crinkled, taped messily together.

“You kept it all this time?” Y/n’s eyes were glassy. He tried to act casually. “It means a lot to me. I couldn’t just get rid of it.” He nodded his head over to the box.

“Come on. Open it.” He grinned. Y/n nodded slowly, tore open the wrapping and opened the box. Inside the box was a smaller box with a note. “Read the note after you open it.” Gojo nudged.

Y/n opened the box, and inside was a beautiful golden necklace with an eye-shaped pendant. Inside the eye was a gleaming sapphire stone, the exact same colour as Gojo’s eyes. “It’s beautiful.” Y/n stared at the necklace in awe. “Read the note.” Gojo took a step closer to Y/n.

The note was clearly old. It was crinkly and was written on lined paper. The handwriting was messy and boyish, giving Y/n a stab of nostalgia.

An eye necklace, because I’ll only ever have eyes for you, Y/n.

Y/n wanted to throw up and cry. This note pierced her heart and sent what felt like a dozen weights to fall on her shoulders.

Why would Gojo give me this gift knowing that I still love him?

“Why did you give me this Gojo?” Y/n asked with tears in her eyes. “You know I’ve loved you for so long. You know I still love you. So why, on my wedding day?” Y/n was borderline begging, asking for a reason to not believe the note. To not surrender her heart to Gojo.

Stick to the plan, Gojo.

He clenched his fists.

Screw the plan.

“I love you Y/n. I’ve loved you since, god, probably longer than you. And I know everything is messed up now because I didn’t have the guts to tell you, but I’ve never stopped loving you. Not in those ten years we didn’t speak, and I know that I’ll never stop loving you. I knew immediately that it was you in that red dress because I never stopped believing in your cursed energy. I never stopped believing in you Y/n. And I never stopped believing in us. That’s why I always had my infinity off around you. And that’s why I’ve kept this necklace this long.”

Y/n was heaving with sobs.

“So please, Y/n.” He looked so vulnerable. “Don’t marry him.” He took off his blindfold, his beautiful cerulean eyes searing into Y/n’s soul. A decade of staring into those eyes flashed in Y/n’s mind. A decade of loving him.

He looked so, so vulnerable. He looked just like the Gojo Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. Boyish and soft.

“Be with me.”

Y/n hugged Gojo so tightly as if the world depended on it. She held him so tight as if the sky was crashing down on her and he was her only safety net.

He buried his head in Y/n’s hair.

“Yes.” She sobbed. “I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

Gojo’s body seemed to collapse. His chest suddenly started shaking.

He let go of Y/n and cupped her face in his hands. The amount of love he felt for her felt bigger than the whole world. He didn’t know that a human could love that much. His heart swelled so big.

“Gojo…what should we do? I’m supposed to get married tonight. I can’t just leave.” Worry crossed Y/n’s face, and Gojo wanted to wipe that worry right off her face. He wanted to wipe off and eliminate all the pain he had caused her.

“Yeah, we can.” Gojo grinned. “What do you mean by-“

Gojo suddenly had Y/n in his arms bridal style. “Where are you taking me?” Y/n felt breathless. “To the start of forever.”

He then jumped off the skyscraper with Y/n in his arms.

130 notes · View notes

mindfuljujutsu · 7 months

Text

Moonlit Destiny: A Sorcerer's Arrangement

In the world of sorcery and ancient clans, two souls are thrust into an unyielding destiny that neither of them desires. Hanae Tsukiyama, a skilled sorceress with the unique ability to harness the power of the moon, is determined to protect her family's legacy. But when a prophecy dictates that she must marry the enigmatic Satoru Gojo, a sorcerer with a reputation as fierce as his powers, her world is turned upside down. Satoru Gojo, a free spirit and renowned sorcerer, has always walked his own path. Forced into an arranged marriage by tradition and prophecy, he finds himself bound to a woman he barely knows and a destiny he never wanted.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

words: 5 066

warnings: None for now.

a/n: Another Satoru Gojo series!! This one has been playing on my mind for a while now, so i thought that I might as well type it out and post it on tumblr. This wasn't going to be a series, but after realising just how much i wrote, I thought it would be best to post it in parts. The second part of this series is already in the works, and I'm in the process of fine-tuning and editing it, so keep an eye out for that! I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

Hanae found herself standing before the grand wrought-iron gates of the Gojo estate, her heart pounding like a distant war drum. Flanked by her parents, both adorned in traditional robes, they wore expressions marked by anticipation and trepidation. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the meticulously manicured gardens that encircled the grand mansion, with cherry blossoms whispering in the breeze, their delicate petals falling like pale confetti.

This meeting, though explained as a significant formality, felt to Hanae like a noose tightening around her future—a future she hadn't chosen herself.

As the gates slowly creaked open, revealing the path leading to the grand entrance, Hanae's mother, a woman whose wisdom was etched into every line of her face, gave her daughter's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Remember, my dear," her mother said, her voice filled with gentle encouragement. "This is for the sake of our clan. We carry the weight of generations on our shoulders."

Hanae nodded, her lips curving into a determined yet uneasy smile. "I understand, Mother."

The door to the Gojo mansion swung open, revealing an opulent foyer adorned with priceless artifacts and ancient scrolls. Servants in traditional attire bustled about, tending to their duties with practiced grace.

Hanae's gaze was drawn to the imposing figure standing at the center of the room, surrounded by an aura of power and privilege. Hiroshi Gojo, head of the prestigious Gojo clan, and his wife, Ayaka Gojo, awaited their arrival, both dressed in traditional attire. They scanned their guests with a hint of curiosity.

"Welcome, Tsukiyama-san," Hiroshi said, his voice smooth and confident, yet tinged with an underlying tension that mirrored Hanae's own feelings.

"Gojo-san," Hanae's father greeted, bowing respectfully. "Thank you for welcoming us into your home."

"Of course, we are meeting here to discuss very important matters," Hiroshi replied.

As Hanae observed Hiroshi's eyes on her, she felt a sense of unease settling over her like a second skin. The scrutiny was almost palpable, and she quickly lowered her gaze out of respect for her elder.

Hiroshi gestured to the woman standing one step behind him. "This is my wife, Ayaka."

Hanae and her parents bowed in greeting, receiving a nod in return from Ayaka.

Takeshi, Hanae's father, introduced his wife, Akiko, to the Gojo family. Hiroshi, in turn, acknowledged Hanae as the young woman they had all been waiting for.

Taking a deep breath, Hanae took a step forward and offered a deep and respectful bow to her potential new in-laws. "Gojo-dono, Gojo-sama, it's an honor to meet you."

Hiroshi seemed pleased with her manners, his voice tinged with a barely detectable chuckle. "Such great manners. Now that all introductions have been made, why don't we all have some tea?"

With that, Hanae and her family were led down the beautiful corridors of the traditional Japanese mansion and into a sitting room designated for hosting.

The initial moments were filled with small talk among the adults while Hanae sat lost in thought. She wondered about her potential future husband, who was conspicuously absent at the moment. Perhaps, she considered, he was running late or even contemplating skipping the meeting altogether.

The conversation in the room flowed like a gentle stream, finding moments of tranquility amidst the weight of tradition. Hanae's heart fluttered with nervous anticipation as she exchanged pleasantries with the Gojo family. Her parents' eyes held a mixture of hope and caution as they conversed.

But then, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The door to the room swung open, and in walked Satoru Gojo, the central figure in this arrangement. His entrance exuded an air of nonchalance that seemed to fill the room. He strode in casually, his steps unhurried, as if he had no particular interest in the proceedings. His gaze, obscured by a pair of sunglasses, brushed over the assembled guests before settling on Hanae.

Their eyes met, and Hanae couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty. This was the man she was meant to marry, chosen for her by their families and traditions, yet he seemed entirely disinterested.

With languid grace, Satoru Gojo approached, his words dripping with nonchalance. "My apologies for keeping you all waiting," he said, his tone devoid of warmth or enthusiasm. "I hope this meeting won't take too much of our time."

Takeshi Tsukiyama, maintaining his composure, offered a polite greeting. "Not at all, Gojo-san. We appreciate your willingness to meet with us."

Satoru merely shrugged, his arrogance palpable. "Well, here I am. Let's get this over with."

The room fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of his indifference settled in. Hanae couldn't help but wonder about the future that lay ahead, a future with a man who appeared to care so little about the arrangement that bound them together.

Takeshi Tsukiyama cleared his throat, sensing that it was time to broach the matter that had brought them all together. "Gojo-san," he began, his tone measured and respectful, “Thank you for meeting with us. Our families have a long history, and it is with great respect for tradition that we come to discuss the prospect of a union between our clans."

Satoru Gojo leaned back in his chair, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. "I'm aware of our families' history and traditions, Tsukiyama-san," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. "But let's not beat around the bush. We're here to discuss an arranged marriage, aren't we?"

Hanae nodded, her voice steady despite the unease she felt. "Yes, Gojo-san, that is the purpose of our meeting."

Satoru Gojo let out a long sigh, as if the entire affair bored him. "Fine, then. Let's hear what you have to say."

And with those words, the negotiation for an arranged marriage between the Tsukiyama and Gojo clans began.

"As you may know," Takeshi started, "the Tsukiyama clan has a unique history. We are the sole survivors of a clan that was sent as a gift from the gods during the prime era of sorcery."

Ayaka Gojo leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "A gift from the gods, you say?"

"Yes," Hiroshi confirmed, "it is a belief that has been passed down through generations. Our clan's history is deeply intertwined with sorcery, and our ancestors were revered for their abilities."

Satoru finally showed a hint of interest, albeit masked by his arrogance. "So, what does this have to do with our meeting today and the arranged marriage?"

Takeshi exchanged a brief glance with Hiroshi before continuing, "A prophecy, Gojo-san. A prophetess foretold that if a member of our clan were to marry the heir of the Gojo clan, their offspring would possess unparalleled power and bring great luck."

Satoru's eyes narrowed slightly as he processed this information. "Unparalleled power and great luck?"

Hiroshi nodded, hoping to emphasize the significance of the arrangement. "Indeed, Satoru. Our families have always held the utmost respect for tradition and the prophecies that guide our destinies. We believe that this union could bring immense benefits to both our clans."

Akiko Tsukiyama joined the conversation, her voice gentle but earnest. "It is our hope that this arranged marriage will strengthen the bonds between our families, preserving the legacy of the Tsukiyama clan and ensuring a prosperous future for both of our bloodlines."

Satoru leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Benefits to both our clans, you say. And what if I have no interest in this arrangement?"

Takeshi chose his words carefully. "We understand that this is not a decision to be taken lightly, Gojo-san. We merely wish to present the opportunity for consideration. The choice, of course, ultimately lies with you and Hanae."

Hanae, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up, her voice steady despite her nervousness. "I hope that we can approach this with open hearts and minds, for the sake of tradition and the future."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as the weight of their words hung in the air. The arrangement had been laid bare before them, and now, it was up to Satoru Gojo to decide whether tradition and prophecy would guide his future.

Gojo contemplated Hanae’s words for a few seconds before clearing his throat, seemingly having made up his mind. “I believe that prophecies are a bunch of bogus,” He started, taking in all the intense stares from everyone in the room.

“They tell you whatever they think you want to hear. So, if everyone in this room thinks that I’m going to let some ‘prophecy’-" he uses his fingers to air quote- “decide on my future, then you all got something coming."

“What are you trying to say, Satoru?” Hiroshi asked, a stern look on his face.

“That we not place our future in the hands of a prophecy. One that we can’t even prove is real.”

Hiroshi burst out laughing, as if everything that Gojo had just said was a joke.

“Satoru,” He started, looking at Gojo. In the next second, the smile on Hiroshi’s face was gone.

A chill ran down Hanae’s back at the quick change of emotions from Hiroshi. People who could change their emotions in a split second made Hanae uneasy.

“While Takeshi’s deal is honorable,” He said, waving at Takeshi without removing his attention from Gojo. “I will not be giving you the leisure to choose whether or not you will be marrying Hanae Tsukiyama. You will marry her, or else.”

Hiroshi’s statement left no room for argument. He was serious about this marriage and what it could mean for his family and clan. And by the looks of it, Satoru had no choice but to obey his father’s rules.

Hanae watched as Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing to fight his father’s wishes, he just stiffly nodded and said nothing more.

“Good,” Hiroshi clapped, turning his attention to Hanae.

“Now, my dear, since everything is arranged on our side, the decision lies with you,”

Hanae gulped, realizing the weight of pressure she had on her shoulders. She knew that she ultimately had no choice here, and that her father only told her that the decision ultimately laid with her. But ever since they found out about the prophecy, her parents, her grandparents, and every member of their clan has been lecturing her about the importance of her union with the Gojo clan. They all depended on her to marry Satoru Gojo.

“I agree to the marriage between Satoru Gojo and myself,” She said, raising her chin to appear brave and strong, the opposite of what she was actually feeling right now.

“But I do just have one request,” she added, before anyone could react.

Hiroshi smiled at her and gave her a nod to continue.

“Before our marriage, I would like some time for Gojo-san and myself to get to know one another better.”

The parents looked between each other, each of them nodding their heads in agreement. Hanae’s request was reasonable and was the least they could do for their children who were being forced into a loveless marriage.

“Very well,” Hiroshi nodded. “We will give you two months to get to know each other, but during those months, the wedding will be planned.”

“That means we’ll marry in two months,” Gojo stated, speaking up for the first time since getting the ultimatum from his father.

“Yes. A date will later be confirmed, but your union will be in two months' time.”

“My time can't be spent here frolicking around and getting to know some girl. I have a job, I have curses to exorcise.” Gojo said, crossing his arms. It seemed that even though he had no real say about the wedding, he was still going to make this whole process as difficult as possible.

“That will be no problem for Hanae,” Hiroshi smirked at his son.

“She will be living with you at Jujutsu High.”

Gojo scoffed, looking at Hanae before shaking his head. “And what is she supposed to do the entire time while I work and go away on missions? Just sit around in my apartment and wait for me?”

This time Hanae’s father was the one to speak. “Of course not. Hanae is a grade one sorcerer,”

“She has been accepted to teach at Jujutsu High for the foreseeable future.”

Gojo shook his head and gave Hanae a once-over, clearly judging her. Hanae was short, only measuring at 5 foot, and her build made others doubt her skills, but she was actually quite the opposite.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Satoru,” his mother scolded, speaking up for the first time. “Where are your manners? We raised you better than this. Treat your future wife with respect.”

Gojo reluctantly nodded, but seemed as if he really never actually meant it.

“Since the arrangement has been agreed upon by both families, we can now gift Hanae with her engagement ring.” Hiroshi said, ignoring his son’s little tantrum.

As if on cue, a male worker walked into the room carrying a silver tray where a black velvet box sat innocently on it. He walked to Satoru and held out the tray in an offering.

Gojo stared at the box for a second too long before reaching for it.

He stood up from his seat and approached Hanae.

With trembling hands and a fast-beating heart, Hanae stood up once Gojo reached her. He opened the box and presented the most beautiful ring that Hanae had ever seen.

The engagement ring chosen by the Gojo family for Hanae was nothing short of a dazzling masterpiece. It stood as a testament to their immense wealth and their commitment to making this arranged marriage an extravagant affair.

At its heart was a central diamond of breathtaking proportions. This remarkable gem was a paragon of clarity, brilliance, and sheer opulence. Its impressive carat weight captured the light in a way that left no doubt about its exceptional quality. It symbolized not only the significance of the union but also the immeasurable wealth of the Gojo clan.

The band that cradled this magnificent centerpiece was crafted from pure white gold, a choice that perfectly complemented the diamond's purity and sparkle. But what truly made the ring a breathtaking spectacle were the smaller diamonds that adorned the band. These gems, meticulously set in an alternating pattern, created a dazzling trail of shimmering brilliance on either side of the central diamond. Their extravagant display showcased the family's opulence and desire for the world to know it.

Delicate filigree work adorned the sides of the band, adding an extra layer of intricacy to the ring's design. These intricate patterns resembled delicate tendrils of blooming flowers and symbols of prosperity. Yet, the ring held more than just visual splendor. Etched discreetly on the inside of the band was a symbol deeply meaningful to the Gojo clan. This symbol, known only to a select few, represented the family's rich heritage, longstanding traditions, and unwavering values. Though hidden from the eyes of others, it served as a personal and profound connection to their past and their future.

Gojo gently removed the ring from the box, but Hanae was so dazed about the beautiful ring that she never realized that he was waiting for her to raise her hand. With more care than she thought he had, Gojo gently took her left hand in his and slid the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit.

“It’s beautiful,” Hanae whispered, staring mesmerized at the ring on her finger.

“It's a Gojo family heirloom,” Ayaka mused, stepping forward to look at the ring on Hanae's hand. “This ring belonged to Satoru’s great-grandmother, who was gifted this by her husband. We obviously made some changes to make it more modern and fitting for someone of your status. I hope that you’re happy with it.”

“I’m more than happy with it. I think it’s beautiful. Thank you.” Hanae smiled at Ayaka.

Ayaka gently took Hanae’s hand and patted it in a motherly fashion, and in that moment, Hanae knew that she would get along just fine with Gojo’s mother.

“We’ve prepared engagement gifts for Hanae,” Hiroshi said, giving Hanae a small smile.

“but since you’ll be staying at Jujutsu High, we’ve taken the courtesy to send it to your new apartment with Gojo.”

Hanae thought that it was weird that they already sent her engagement gifts to Tokyo before both herself and Gojo agreed to marriage. In that moment she realized that the two of them had way less say in the whole ordeal than they originally thought.

Hanae bowed in thanks towards Hiroshi and Ayaka, “Thank you, Gojo-san.”

“As per our traditions, our family has also prepared a gift for Satoru Gojo,” Hanae’s father said, stepping up to Gojo. He removed a delicate box hidden inside his pocket and handed it to a confused Hanae, who then looked up at Gojo, who was staring intensely at her. She cleared her throat and opened the box. She was momentarily stunned at what she saw.

The bracelet that her family had gifted Gojo was one that had been in the Tsukiyama family for centuries. It was passed down to each first-born male of the head of the clan, and as the only child of the head of the clan, this bracelet was now given from her father to his future son-in-law, which would then be passed down to a son of their own.

This gift didn’t only symbolize the Tsukiyama family’s rich history but also reflected their warm welcome of Satoru Gojo into their fold. It was a family heirloom that had been treasured for generations—a bracelet crafted from an exceedingly rare and striking stone, its color reminiscent of the depths of the night.

The bracelet's main feature was the exceptional stone, a unique and highly sought-after specimen with a hue that danced between deepest black and ethereal gray. Its surface was smooth and polished to perfection. The stone itself was believed to have protective properties, guarding its wearer against adversity and negative energies.

The bracelet's design was simple yet timeless. It consisted of a series of marble-sized, perfectly polished stone beads, each separated by delicate silver spacers. The clasp, an intricate piece of silver-work, held a small family crest engraved with the symbol of the Tsukiyama clan.

As Satoru Gojo received this antique bracelet, he could feel the weight of its history and significance. It had been passed down through generations, from father to son, and now, it was entrusted to him. It served as a silent pledge of the family's support, respect, and acceptance of the arranged marriage, despite any reservations that may have lingered beneath the surface.

The bracelet was a testament to the enduring connections of the Tsukiyama clan and their commitment to fostering unity and harmony. Satoru's acceptance of this heirloom marked not only the beginning of his journey with Hanae but also the embrace of their shared future and the rich traditions that would bind their families together.

“Thank you,” Gojo mumbled as he ran his thumb over the smooth stones of the bracelet.

Just when Hanae thought that perhaps Gojo was warming up to the idea of them getting married, his emotions changed in a blink of an eye. He snapped the box holding the heirloom closed and placed it in his pocket. He didn’t take it out or even try it on.

“Very well,” Hiroshi said, breaking the awkward silence between the two families. “Now that all of that has been taken care of, why don’t we discuss the part that the wives are anticipating the most. The engagement party and the wedding.”

Both Hanae and Gojo went back to their respective seats as the discussions started taking place. It was decided that Hanae would leave for Jujutsu High in two days' time, where she would meet up with Gojo and settle down in her new home. Another meeting would take place next weekend, which was only a few days away, where the upcoming wedding would be discussed. Things such as wedding dates, the house Gojo and Hanae would be living in after marriage, and who would cover certain wedding expenses would be discussed. And lastly, the engagement party.

An official announcement would be made in a few days to other clans and to the public about the engagement of Satoru Gojo and Hanae Tsukiyama, and following closely behind, only a day after the official meeting about wedding arrangements, an engagement party would be held at the Gojo residence for all family, friends, and clans.

Feeling overwhelmed by how fast things were moving, Hanae excused herself to go to the bathroom, but she sneakily made her way into the front garden where she saw a beautiful cherry blossom tree upon entering the residence earlier.

The Tsukiyama family crest was a symbol of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. It represented the beauty and transience of life, and it also signified the family’s commitment to renewal and protection, much like the changing seasons.

“The cherry blossoms outside are particularly beautiful this time of year, aren’t they?” Hanae mused. Even though her attention was on the tree before her, she could sense Gojo’s silent presence the moment he stepped into the garden.

Gojo chuckled, his steps approaching her figure, and stopped to stand next to her. He looked up at the big cherry blossom tree that Hanae was referring to. “You have a good sense of your environment. I’m impressed.”

Hanae smiled, turning to look at Gojo. “Just because I never graduated from Jujutsu High in Tokyo doesn’t mean that I’m a good sorcerer, Gojo-san.”

Hanae nodded back to the cherry blossom tree and turned back to look at it again. “Cherry blossoms always bring a sense of renewal and beauty to our lives. I think that’s why it’s my favorite flower. We have a cherry blossom tree in our garden back home. It’s been in our family for generations.”

Gojo hummed, “Then your name is quite fitting, isn’t it.”

Hanae looked up at Gojo, wanting him to explain further about what he meant.

“Your love for flowers and the cherry blossom. I think it’s quite fitting that the meaning of your name is flower blessing.”

Hanae chuckled and nodded, “Yes, my parents must have known what they were doing when they named me Hanae.”

“What about your clan name?” Gojo asked Hanae, looking at her with an intensity that she could feel through his dark sunglasses. “What does Tsukiyama mean?”

“Tsuki means moon, and Yama means mountain. It was chosen because of the technique used by my clan; Moonlight manipulation.”

“That’s interesting,” Gojo mused, now looking at Hanae with interest and intrigue. “Tell me about your technique. What can you do?”

“I’m sure nothing as impressive as what I heard you can do, Gojo-San,” Hanae chuckled. She turned her body to fully face Gojo’s towering body. “My clan’s techniques allows us to harness the power of the moon and manipulate it for various purposes. My clan is most well known for our healers and amplifiers, but we are capable of other techniques using the moon too.”

“Healers I understand. They use the moonlight to heal injuries, but what are amplifiers? I’ve never heard of that one before.”

“Moonlight amplification is when moonlight gets channelled by the sorcerer into a person of choice. It will enhance their strength and abilities, but only temporarily.” Hanae explained.

“What other techniques does your clan have?”

“Some have moonlight shields which are protective barriers of moonlight, some have moonbeam projections which are concentrates beams of moonlight used as offensive acts, and then there are the ones who have moonlit tracking. They can track the movements of curses or other sorcerers by sensing disturbances in the moonlight.”

“You never included yourself in any of those,” Gojo observed. “You said ‘they’ and never ‘we’ or ‘I’. Does that mean that none of those are your techniques?”

“Yes and no,” you respond. “I can do a bit of healing, but mostly on small injuries. My technique is moonlight blades and moonlit illusions.”

“I’m guessing that the blades are shaped by the moonlight?” Gojo asked, tilting his head curiously.

Hanae nodded, “Yes. They’re razor-sharp blades that can cut through curses and defend against attacks. For the illusions, I used the moonlight to make intricate illusions that can confuse and disorientate my enemies.”

Gojo whistled, looking quite impressed with her set of skills. “I know you probably get asked this a lot, but does your technique only work at night?”

Hanae couldn’t help but laugh at his question, because yes, he was right. That exact question always gets asked by people interested in her technique.

“The technique is more potent and effective at night when the moon is visible. However, it doesn’t necessarily work only at night,” Hanae explained. “At night, when the moon is in the sky, my powers are at their peak. I can perform more complex and powerful feats using moonlight during nighttime. During the day or in places with limited moonlight, like indoor environments, my abilities may be less potent or it may require more effort to use. The different phases of the moon also affects the range and strengths of my abilities.”

“Wow, that’s really quite fascinating,” Gojo nodded. “We should battle each other some day. It would be quite an interesting fight.”

“Gojo-san,” Hanae said, shaking her head in disagreement. “That wouldn’t be much of a fight. I’ve the stories. You’d have me tapping out in seconds.”

A cocky grin tugged at Gojo’s lips. He shrugged playfully, “I’ll go easy on you then.”

Both Gojo and Hanae took a moment to take the other in, before turning around and looking up at the blooming cherry blossom tree.

From beside her, Gojo took in a deep breath. “Hanae,”

Hanae turned all her attention to Gojo.

“You seem like a nice woman, but I’m going to be honest with you, I have no interest in getting married to you.

Ouch, Hanae thought to herself. Getting told by someone as handsome as Gojo that he wasn’t interested in you was a hard hit to the ego. But at the same time, she also understood where he was coming from.

“Gojo, trust me, I’m not a willing participant either, but I have no other choice,” Hanae began, looking Gojo in the eye in the hopes that he could tell how serious but sincere she was trying to be. “My family and clan are relying on me to get married to you, and I can’t let them down for my own selfish desires.”

Gojo scoffed and ran his hand through his messy, white hair. “I don’t understand. What’s the big deal about this marriage? Why do you have to marry me? Why can’t you get married to someone from the Zenin clan? I’m sure you could get someone there.”

“It’s much more complicated than that. The prophecy said that I should marry you. Our parents are not willing to let a sign of such great importance pass them by, not one that tells us about the outcome of our future.”

Gojo scoffed for the second time since joining her in the garden. “I see that they’ve got you just as brainwashed as the rest,”

He shook his head, “Just because the clan says so, doesn’t mean that it’s what you should do. Are you going to live your whole life following orders from your clan people? From your elders?”

“I really thought you were smarter than that.”

Hanae's frustration and anger continued to mount. She couldn't believe that Satoru Gojo had the audacity to belittle her choices and her loyalty to her clan. It was infuriating to have someone who knew nothing about her life pass judgment so casually.

Hanae's voice held a rare intensity as she continued, her frustration bubbling over. "Don't you dare question my loyalty to my family and clan. They've given me everything, and I'll do whatever it takes to fulfill my responsibilities to them. It's not brainwashing; it's love and duty."

Gojo's arrogant demeanor wavered for a moment, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. It seemed her words had struck a chord with him, even if he didn't want to admit it. For a brief moment, the two of them stood there, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills.

With a clenched jaw and tears of anger threatening to spill, Hanae took a deep breath, determined not to let Gojo's words provoke her further. She knew that lashing out wouldn't solve anything, and she had too much at stake to let this confrontation escalate.

"Gojo-san, I understand that you might not agree with our traditions and beliefs," Hanae began, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "But I want you to know that I take my responsibilities seriously. This marriage isn't just about me. It's about our families and the legacy they've entrusted us with."

"Look," Hanae continued, her tone more composed now. "I don't expect you to understand everything about me or my clan, just as I don't fully understand your world. But I hope that we can find a way to make the best of this situation, for both our sakes and our families'."

Hanae turned away, returning back to the house before she got into another argument with Gojo. The tension between them remained unresolved, hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Gojo watched her retreating figure with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. He had agreed to cooperate, but that didn't mean he had fully accepted the situation.

With a sigh, Gojo turned his gaze back to the cherry blossom tree, its delicate blooms swaying gently in the breeze. He couldn't deny that Hanae's determination had caught his attention, but the prospect of this arranged marriage still irked him.

"I won't let them control my fate," Gojo muttered to himself, clenching his fists. He had always been a free spirit, and the idea of being bound by tradition and prophecy grated against his very nature.

While walking inside the house, a loomed in Hanae’s head. Would they find a way to coexist or would they remain locked in a struggle against a destiny they had not chosen for themselves?

a/n: Phew, that was a long one! Let me know what you think about this series. Is it worth continuing?? As I mentioned in the a/n at the beginning, I'm already working on part 2, so that should be out soon.

Please, please interact with the story if you enjoyed it, It would mean the world to me. Thanks again! 🥰

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mrk236547789 · 24 days

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**mpreg (male pregnancy)** birth story for you:

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# The Enchanted Blossom's Gift

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of Eldoria, there existed a rare and magical creature known as the "Blossombearer." These ethereal beings were neither fully male nor female but embodied the essence of both. Their bodies could carry life in a way that defied the norms of nature.

Our tale begins with Eirik, a young Blossombearer who lived deep within the Whispering Woods. Eirik's belly swelled with the promise of new life—a secret he guarded fiercely. His partner, Lysander, a gentle forest sprite, fluttered around him, tending to the delicate blossoms that adorned Eirik's skin.

The Blossombearer's pregnancy was no ordinary affair. Instead of a traditional womb, Eirik's abdomen held a luminous bud—an otherworldly vessel where life took root. The bud pulsed with iridescent light, casting a soft glow on the forest floor.

As the days passed, Eirik's cravings grew stranger. He longed for moonbeam honey and stardust-infused berries. Lysander dutifully gathered these celestial treats, whispering sweet promises to the unborn child within.

One moonlit night, Eirik's bud began to bloom. Petals unfurled, revealing a tiny creature—a blend of human and woodland magic. Its eyes sparkled like dew-kissed leaves, and its skin shimmered with opalescent hues. Lysander wept with joy, cradling their child against his chest.

But the birth was not without challenges. Eldoria's ancient laws forbade male pregnancy, and jealous eyes watched from the shadows. The Moon Sorceress, Selene, coveted the Blossombearer's gift. She believed it held the key to eternal life.

Selene's dark magic seeped into the Whispering Woods, twisting the very roots that sustained Eirik's bud. The pain intensified, and Eirik's breaths came in ragged gasps. Lysander pleaded with the forest spirits for aid.

The eldest Dryad, Elowen, appeared—a gnarled oak with eyes like starlight. She whispered ancient incantations, weaving protective spells around Eirik. The birthing chamber glowed with Elowen's magic, shielding the fragile life within.

And then, with a final surge of power, Eirik pushed. The bud burst open, releasing a wailing infant—a boy with translucent wings and petals for hair. Lysander named him Orion, after the constellation that watched over their love.

As dawn painted the sky, Eirik cradled Orion in his arms. The Blossombearer's sacrifice had birthed not only a child but also hope. Selene's curse shattered, and the Whispering Woods rejoiced. Flowers bloomed, and birds sang songs of wonder.

Eirik and Lysander raised Orion beneath the ancient boughs, teaching him the secrets of both worlds. The boy's laughter echoed through Eldoria, a melody that healed wounded hearts. And whenever the moon waxed full, Orion would touch his father's belly, feeling the dormant bud stir with magic.

For in the land of Blossombearers, love transcended boundaries. And as Eirik and Lysander watched their son dance among fireflies, they knew that miracles bloomed even in the unlikeliest of places.

And so, dear reader, if you ever wander into the Whispering Woods, listen closely. You might hear the soft rustle of petals—the echo of a love story that defied fate and birthed magic anew.

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*Note: This tale is purely fictional and meant for entertainment. In reality, male pregnancy remains an imaginative concept, but in the realm of fantasy, anything is possible.* 🌸🌿✨

#mpreg birth #pregnant man #mpreg #giving birth

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makairodonx · 1 month

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Of Shamrocks and Sakura -

Keiko Yamamoto takes an excited leprechaun on a trip to enjoy the viewing of the cherry blossoms of her magic garden

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riseofamoonycake · 11 months

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May i request ROR Lu Bu x cryokinesis! reader? Powerful and formidable mortal sorceress whose power govern the domain of ice and froze, another Einherjar who could be on par with the gods.

She is aloof and cold, but not unkind. It's just that...her appearance and overall look is just too intimidate to make anyone (even some gods) don't dare to approach her.

So here we are!! Sorry for the long waiting and... hmmm... sorry also for the angst ;-;

Gone With the Snow

🌨️ Pairing: Lu Bu x Cryokinesis!sorceress reader

🌨️ Warnings: mention of sex, angst

🌨️

Whenever Lu Bu touched you, you forgot who you were. No more curses, no more threats, no fear: the terror disappeared, the cold stopped, and you were just flesh that yielded under the rough but careful hands of the Flying General.

Your belly stretched and blossomed like a spring meadow, it met the man’s abdomen and rubbed against it; your legs trembled at every caress and closed around his pelvis, trapping him with the greed of someone who has always had too little and at a certain point finds the world in their hands, and you enjoyed every push, every bite on your snowy skin, every gaze capable of melting even the ice floor that you sometimes created, because the sensations were too many.

Where has all this gone now?

They called you the White Queen: motionless, cold and marble, beautiful as Death that comes in winter, clear and pure as a January morning. You have always moved with the tranquility of a soul that apparently doesn’t care about others; you learned and worked in silence, refining every technique to control the snow and ice, but without hiding who you really are: a person who still dreams, who still has feelings, but who prefers silence to chatter and the tranquility of the frozen lakes, echoing of memory and sleeping life, to the movement that comes with the summer.

With his impetus, with the fire he has inside, Lu Bu brought the hottest summer over your head, but without hurting you; only he could manage to make you love the warmth, and to recognize that under the snow maiden appearance, there is a heart that beats and does it strongly.

But where are you now, where are you?

He has seen what you are capable of: not only in the heart of the blizzard, making the frozen flakes and puffs dance according to your wishes, placating and raising icy storms with an unsuspected and marvelous skill; but also towards others, those you alone look at, the last ones that very few notice. Lu Bu was beside you when you tried to save that child from the river whirlpool into which he had fallen, and you also succeeded; there was when you made sure that the snow didn’t block the streets of entire villages, allowing people not to lose their way home; there was every time you checked that the gems were growing well, buried in the womb of the earth, so that the most wonderful flowers would then blossom.

For years Lu Bu has always been a constant, a shadow that always leaves a trace, a grin among the trees covered with heavy white veils, sharp teeth on the skins and prickly like pins, like hands immersed in fresh snow; but you loved every moment of that love, of the fire that beaded scarlet on your white lips, of a feeling of belonging you have never felt anywhere.

You were my home. I only lived next to you.

“No god or man has ever wanted you for himself, why?”

You moaned more forcefully when these questions reached you, always in the hottest moment of the love making. Lu Bu thrust harder into you, frowning at your silence, staring at you as you threw your head back and his strong fingers squeezed your breasts until they sank into your flesh. They are afraid of me. Everyone fears me, but you don’t. You stay, you thought, but you didn’t say anything: your sensitive body, touched only by him, drank all the attention it received like earth in need of rain, and every stimulus that hit your skin was refracted around it, doubling in intensity. You didn’t even get a chance to try to answer.

Lu Bu just grinded his teeth in front of your sealed mouth, open only to let out moans of all sorts, then he came out of you and threw himself on your body to bite your belly, thighs, and even your inner lips, rummaging inside you with his tongue, clinging to your hips while your legs locked his head between them and he was a prisoner of you, and you of the pleasure his mouth gave you; and whole hours fled away like this, between a storm of flames and a dream of happiness.

That world is over now. Happiness died with him.

When they called you together for Ragnarok, to help men make their value known to the gods, to defend and guard them, you knew what you were getting into: there was no occasion to delude yourself, nor did you think about it for a while. Either victory or death, the rules were clear right away: and you both accepted without fear. You made love for the last time, without desperation or yearning, as if nothing had to change; and then you waited for your turn.

Before the First Fight, you stayed with Lu Bu the whole time. You were full of energy and motivation; you were filled with hope and desire to show what you have always been, what you have always wanted and for which you would fight until the end of the reality. “Gods and men will see me for what I really am”, you murmured to the man, stroking his arm with your nails and greeting Red Hare with a pat on the muzzle and a kiss on the mane, “and you too will be there to look at me. Look at me fight for us.”

He smiled in response to your convincing tone, with his mind already in the Arena, every second a little further away from you; and you let him go because it was right, without fear.

But now, now the fear is there.

Your eyes are still fixed on the Arena, on the exact spot where until a few moments ago stood Lu Bu, your beloved general, the only soul who ever knew and loved you; but all is gone, even thoughts are declined with a language that smacks of loss, for the God of Thunder has taken the victory and the Nilfhel now contains all your man’s dreams and wishes and breaths. You are alone now.

Alone.

Helplessly, dazed, you watch Chen Gong, Red Hare, and all of Lu Bu’s army mourn their lord; you watch them enter the Arena and offer themselves as a gift to Thor because, like for you, a life without Lu Bu is meaningless, and being devoured by thunder; and you continue to stare at the fights without hearing anything, motionless as a statue. The ice stays inside you, not a snowflake covers your skin: in a flash of thought, you wonder if your abilities aren’t gone forever.

And finally, mindfulness strikes you at the heart. There is only one thing you will have to do now, the last solution you would have thought of before and the only way that opens before you now. “Forgive me, humanity,” you murmur then, stepping back slowly, “I’m afraid you should look for another champion. I’m sure you will understand me.”

You leave the Arena behind you with the same silence with which you wandered through mountains and valleys, cold and distant, without a soul; no one sees you go, but everyone notices the snowfall that briefly covers the place and the ice flowers that rise in the heart of it, where your heart once was.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv #ror #snv lu bu #ror lu bu #lu bu record of ragnarok #lu bu shuumatsu no valkyrie #lu bu x reader

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cosmo-lexies · 2 months

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A proper writeblr introduction

Hello people, you can call me Cosmo. I’m not a spacial doggy, no matter what the gossip says (I'm gonna turn this sentence in my new tagline). I have been around here for a while but I had never dared to do an introduction until now.

What can I say about me? I'm a Spaniard, my home is in Galician. I started to write in English to learn the language but I found out that I liked it.

I'm searching for other amateur writers. I'm really into urban fantasy, specially shapeshifters (you know, werewolves. I haven't gotten over Teen Wolf yet) and romance (with bi character is always better).

I have another blog for NSFW stories: @hotcosmo

My WIPS

Wolf Trip (My current WIP):

Senior year, the last chance to discover your true self before adult life. Jon was ready to enjoy it with epic plans: getting a spot on the basketball team, figuring out what university would be his new place the next fall, and of course, finding the absolute perfect prom date. But, seriously, since when do the plans of a seventeen-year-old boy work out as expected? Instead of parties and dealing with his new status like one of the popular kids, Jon found himself facing the fact that he's not your average human anymore. Romulo, the hot and strong young wolf who decided that Jon's essence was too irresistible not to spice up it with a little bite, had to deal with an emotional teen with a very aggressive newborn inside while they had to sprint across America to find a safe place where Jon can learn how to live in a world bigger than before. A world full of new creatures and magic where your position in the food chain may not be what you expected.

The Imperial Sorceress (complete):

Lady Dominica, High Sorceress of the Empire and the eldest of his coven, and his apprentice Ludovica have to confront a powerful semi-divine creature never seen before in imperial lands which is destroying the military forces of the empire and find out why the creature is helping the alliance of the Southern kingdoms to conquer the city of Lorencia.

Midnight rituals, season 1:

"A witch, a vampire, a werebear, and a human are in a clearing in the middle of a forest…" This could be the beginning of a bad joke or of a riddle; however, the witch was summoning an ancient demon while the human tried to avoid it; the witch and the vampire were in love but they fight more than anything else, and the werebear, well, he is there being a very handsome guy and tried to no one ended up dead. The peace of the small town of Santo Hills (Pennsylvania) is in danger and only the hardly credible team of four supernatural teenagers has some opportunity to avoid a massacre in the town.

Dylan, season 1:

"Do you know this feeling of whatever you do, you're going to fuck it? For me, it's not a feeling it's my day-to-day. Hooking up with someone older, yelling at my social worker, or kissing a girl for whom I feel nothing is only a small part of my problems. The big part is my powers which my family knows nothing about. Fuck, I don't know how I survive until graduation. I should talk to them, should I? Ahhh, fucking l…"

Malicious Wood:

"After Ragnarök, paradise emerged, Yggdrasil blossomed from its ashes, and a new pantheon was constructed, ushering in a new era. But time passed and nothing in this world was created to be at peace forever. Asktré accompanied by his sons Lunnec and Fenrir, return home after an arduous and fruitless journey. Against Aktré's wishes, they are unexpectedly drawn into the investigation of a series of mysterious murders in Odinia, Midgar. Could an Ashman and two hybrids discover the truth behind these heinous crimes? Malicious Wood serves as an enthralling introduction to New Yggdrasil a world base on Norse mythology post-Ragnarök where the delicate balance between Realms is starting to change. Can those born of an old world save a new one?"

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers #fantasy #books #writeblr community #writing community #writer things #introduction post #introductory post #lgtbq #cosmo-lexies #hotcosmo

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cassieuncaged · 6 months

Text

Wild Inhibitions - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Astarion Ancunín x Ilwyn Crowdancer

Summary: She was young, still learning to control her wild magic when Ilwyn was abducted by the mind flayers. Little did she know that revenge for her mother's death was imminent as well as an ill timed infatuation with a vampire.

TW: nightmarish imagery, recovering from an injury, mild blood, cambion contracts, damning innocents for the hell of it (pun intended), sexual tension, insults, hiding vulnerabilities, Astarion being a dick (shocker), past trauma, language, etc.

WC: 3.1 K

A/N: forgive me for the choppiness. I'm slowing working to regain my writing flow. Also would like to point out that I knew nothing about Elven life spans when originally deciding on Ilwyn's age. I've done a little research and she's still an adult...but she's also still learning everything which is an aspect I like about her. Her past trauma is still pretty fresh and she has no idea what she's doing. Which is fun where the wild magic will get involved.

Taglist: @confidentandgood, @galaxycunt, @euryalex, @inafieldofdaisies, @neonneurons, @roofgeese, @spacestephh

Pale eyes ripple like moonstones, peering into a punctured soul. Those black lips crack open with malice, delighted as red sinews tear apart like wet parchment. The point of a gnarled dagger makes another jagged divot into a bloody canvas.

A scream rips through a dry throat, hoarse and painful like that of a dying animal. Weak arms pull against rusting chains, metal biting into tender wrists as she continues to struggle. Legs wobble, toes barely touching the blood slicked ground as the blade tears through her side. Another tally marks soft skin as the sorceress dangles.

“Sweet red drips from you like the most delectable of wine,” Orin waxes poetically, allowing her weapon to dig into the small of a freckled back as she circles her prey. Ilwyn hisses when the knife drags against the curve of her spine, digging deep enough to scar. “How I wish to lap at it like a kitten to cream..”

The changeling mocks, playing with her like a cat does a mouse.

Orin the Red. A monster born of monsters.

Ilwyn has no defense, being left to die alone like a slaughtered lamb in the maw of a deranged lion. She’s been laid bare, robes shredded and bloody in the corner. The changeling of her nightmares now holds her captive, death lurking closer with every slice.

“What will you do to me?” she whimpers, no longer attempting to retain a steely demeanor. Suddenly, strength is not a viable option as the bloody vixen pulls a limp body forward.

“I’m going to bleed you dry,” she hums, delicately rubbing blood into a supple thigh before harshly slapping sensitive skin. “Then I’ll let your blood flow across Toril like a river, painting the whole planet red.”

Pale eyes widened hungrily, wanting to be sated by wet carrion, bloody and fresh for her to devour. An opalescent finger slid down the scar embedded in a soft cheek, tapering off into freckled skin.

It was then that Orin leaned forward, pressing a kiss to breathless lips before her blade caressed a rosy neck, slicing deeply as blue eyes became sightless.

……

Bolting upright, Ilwyn pants as she scans her meager tent. Shadowheart knelt dutifully beside a pile of blankets, concentrating on a healing spell as the laceration slowly mended. The sensation was odd, feeling as though her body was stitching itself back together internally.

“What happened?” One finger runs across the tear sliced into the fabric of a simple tunic, dark with blood that blossomed from her wound.

“You don’t remember?” Chains jangle in a long braid when the cleric cocks her head. Patches of purple decorate the pits beneath sunken eyes, mossy green glimmering with exhaustion. “Suppose that’s for the best. That brawler jammed his blade into your side. Had to force a healing potion down your throat to keep you from fading completely.”

“Who carried me? Astarion?” this earns a bemused snort as Shadowheart shifts on her haunches.

“He could hardly lift an imp.” A small hand pushed at one shoulder until Ilwyn slowly laid back with a hiss, “Unfortunately for us, Karlach would’ve incinerated you, so he and I made do.”

“I should thank him…” the elf squirmed against her bedroll, guts twitching under the strain of the restoration invocation. A shallow breath escapes mauve lips as pearlescent teeth grit. Lingering tenderness begins to evaporate as Shadowheart’s brows furrow in concentration.

“Focus on recovering first.” Her words are clipped and demanding, regardless of how soft her voice was, “You’ll need your strength. Especially if we’re to destroy these goblins from the inside out. Shar be with us.”

“I think we can handle it.” Ilwyn allows her body to limply sink into her cot, ignoring the damp smear of blood against her torso. Her tunic is practically half shredded from a serrated blade.

“Awfully brave after being almost gutted by a loathsome little monster.” The corner of pale lips quirk, almost a smile as the cleric keeps one hand hovering above the open wound. Ilwyn tries not to think of the skin meshing itself back together.

“I let my guard down.” Speaking hurts, belly twitching with every breath.

“Bickering with that vampire almost got you killed.” She snaps back, annoyed with the entire situation. “Hells knows where we even are, we can’t afford to lose anyone. We have power in numbers if nothing else.”

“It won’t happen again,” the young elf hisses, a blush rising up freckled cheeks. Shadowheart softens the littlest bit, nose wrinkling at the surge of emotion bubbling up her throat, something Shar had forbade her.

Feeling.

“Good,” in an instant, she’s thrusting herself up onto booted feet, chainmail clanking as she does. “I’d hate for our adventure to be cut short. Especially before we even get these damned worms out of our skulls.”

Crouching down, the canvas flap is flipped open for a moment. Golden light pours in for an instant as the sun prepares to set. She can vaguely hear the others scurrying about, pots clanging in a tinny cacophony as dinner is prepared.

Likely stew. Especially after finding endless sacks of potatoes, it’s the easiest meal for them to prepare. Besides, it’s almost worth the mundane selection just to watch Karlach lap at the soup hungrily before allowing Scratch to lick the bowl clean.

Ilwyn grins at the thought, the first time she’s felt truly safe since the Nautiloid’s graceless crash. For an instant, blue eyes flicker close as she begins to trance.

Then a black smile cracks through the darkness, greeting her subconscious with fiendish vigor.

……

The Tiefling keeps watch with Wyll, telling jokes and sharing stories as darkness is hoisted upon them.

“How’d they nab you?” she asks, longing to press a palm comforting to a broad back. Karlach misses touching and being touched more than anything. “I mean, where’d they get you? When you were in Avernus hunting me?”

“Gods, I can’t remember.” He sighs, taking a sip of foamy mead. “It was such a blur. First I was scrabbling through the lines of the blood war and then…”

Suddenly the ground begins to shake, garnering the duo’s attention. Between the tents, the ground begins to split. A spirally slick of liquid begins to bubble upwards, garnering the attention of the rest of the camp before a blue skinned devil is birthed from the hells themselves from a mouth of flames. Shadowheart thumbs the handle of her mace as a disoriented Ilwyn rushes from the mouth of her tent. Rolling his eyes with anguish, Astarion sidles up beside the dense elf, prepared to strike if she’s attacked.

“Wyll, you naughty boy!” The creature’s voice sounds out through the blackness of night as a temptress is revealed to them. Periwinkle skin gleams in the firelight as the devil strides confidently towards the talented swordsman. “You know what happens when you’ve been naughty!”

“Just who in the nine hells are you?” Ilwyn pipes up weakly, earning the ire of the rest of the camp. For an instant, cool fingers brush against her own, before being retracted completely. The cambion tuts, leathery wings twitching as she assesses the plethora of potential prey. Scratch growls, hackles raised.

“You’ve never spoken about me?” the creature speaks again, feigning hurt as flaming eyes assess Wyll. “I’m shocked. Well, time to let the hellcat out of the bag. Call me…Mizora. I’m Wyll’s patron. And my pet has been rather unruly. And his leash needs a yank.”

Long, taloned fingers pull gracefully at the air as the warlock is pulled to his knees by seamlessly nothing.

“We had a deal,” she chides sharply, “But Karlach’s still breathing.”

“I’ve taken more pleasant shits than you, Mizora.” Karlach booms with no small amount of menace, “And at least I can bury those after.”

The repartee continues between the three as the others attempt to follow along. Wyll can barely choke out his words before the cambion is reciting a clause from a contract that no one completely understands. Ilwyn attempts to lunge forward, to push herself between the two to save the man.

It’s then that Astarion finally clamps an icy palm against a feeble wrist. Yanking her backwards, she grimaces, ready to begin a new argument when blue eyes grow wide, watching as horns sprout from the young man’s head.

There’s little to be done as the Blade of Frontiers is now a devil among men.

……

His nightly hunt is uneventful, a rather fat rabbit drained and left in a clearing of the forest. Astarion ambles to where the river winds through the thicket of fir trees, twigs crunching beneath the heel of fanciful boots.

It’s then that he sees her, wringing out a cloth tunic on the embankment. Likely scrubbing the garment in an attempt to remove the blood that soaked through from a gnarly wound. He’d never admit it, but it is refreshing to see her moving around so easily. Leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, he watches for a moment. She wears a woven leather corset, displaying herself in a way that surprises him. Rather revealing for the shy little elf. But then again, who is he to complain?

“My, my,” he appears from the shadows, enjoying the little hitch in her breathing as she jumps, “What is a little treat doing out by themselves at this hour?”

“Trying to enjoy a little quiet,” she mutters, annoyed by his sudden appearance. “Especially after that rather eventful evening with Mizora.”

“How interesting it’ll be to have a devil galivanting with us,” he holds his hands out, examining nicely manicured nails, “Lucky for him, he’s still rather handsome with those horns.”

“Wyll has his soul bound to a devil and all you think about is how handsome he is? Rather callous of you, though I can’t say I’m shocked.”

“Ah, and here I was this afternoon thinking you’d have no sparkling banter for me, considering your condition.” His fangs glint with menace before his head cocks to one side. “How’re you feeling?”

“Why would you care?” she huffs, holding the tunic up in the moonlight, assessing its current state. “Don’t tell me you’d miss the incessant bickering?”

“As endearing as that is,” he pauses, wondering how to continue. He knows he needs her at his side but also fears revealing his own vulnerabilities. “I’ve grown rather fond of you, in our short time together.”

“Have you?”

Had he?

Hells, her naivete and misplaced compassion were downright insufferable.

“In a sense.” He meanders closer, arms latched at the small of a lean back. It isn’t until now that the vampire notices how small Ilwyn is, squirming beneath a long shadow. Orange sparks gleam at the tips of pale fingers as she considers singing those luscious curls clean off. “How can I not when you allow me to feed on a near nightly basis?”

“You’re rather impressive in battle after drinking from me.” She shrugs, ignoring the incessant rattling of her heart. “It’s a perk that serves us all.”

“Aren’t you just adorable when you’re absolutely flustered?” one large hand threads languidly through hair that looks like spun silk in the moon light. Her mouth drops open before latching itself close once more. His affliction offers a span of preternatural abilities; she knows he can hear how her heart slams into spindly ribs, how he can practically taste the blood that flows into ripened cheeks…

“I am flustered.” She admits, returning to the only tunic she had, bloody stain faded to a messy copper. “This is absolutely ruined.”

“What’s so special about a boring tunic?” ruby eyes glimmer like wet stones in the lowlight, “I rather like this new number.”

“There’s still a nip in the air from winter,” she argues, ignoring the shiver that runs up the length of her spine. “Now isn’t exactly a time fall under the weather.”

“Why not sew the damned thing back together?” he lounges on a boulder, gaze lingering on the ample amount of skin revealed from her corset. A part of him longs to reach out, to see if she feels as soft as she looks. Another part of him shrieks, frightened of the intimacy that could potentially linger. “You seem capable enough.”

“I’m not very useful with a sewing needle.” She admits bashfully, nervous to add to her ever-growing list of shortcomings. It seems that out of the merry band assembled, she’s a liability.

“Maybe I can help.” His offer surprises them both as Astarion reconsiders the thought. Why not just humiliate her? Make her scrabble about in the woven corset like the little tart she is?

Because I’m not a monster.

The thought feels intrusive as his brows furrow in a silent ponderance. Ilwyn basks in the moment of insecurity, one she knows well. For a moment, they feel a similarity bubble up their throats as he carefully approaches. The garment is carefully slid from shaking fingers when the vampling assesses the tear.

“It’s rather deep but not past the point of mending,” he admits. “Let me help you.”

“Why?” a ruddy brow arches instinctively, waiting for a cruel retort. But there is none, his icy exterior having melted for a moment.

Why?

The word echoes in his brain, an air of confusion threatening to unravel his thoughts. Why should he help her? There was never anyone to come to his aid, even he needed it most…

“Would you like my help or not?” he huffs, suddenly sullen as long arms fold across his chest. A head of copper waves nods, craving any act of kindness to be gifted unto her.

……

It’s the first time she’s been in the striped canvas tent, enjoying how eclectic and cozy it is. He wears a gold monocle, face stern as long fingers expertly mend the garment. It’s quiet, the only sound the crackle of the candles and the tinny tap of the needle against a thimble. Astarion allows himself a quick peak of perky bosoms stuffed into a leather corset. He almost wishes to shred the tunic even more, to force her to parade around in the other garment.

“Most women know how to sew…” he adds, attempting to make small talk yet failing miserably. Ilwyn shrugs, kneeling dutifully across from where he’s lounging.

“There’s never been time,” this earns a haughty chuckle.

“You’re telling me a century has passed and you’ve never picked up a needle before?”

“A century? How long do you think I’ve been galivanting around Toril?”

“We elven breeds live nearly a millennium,” he swallows hard, reminded by the fact that he never even saw his fortieth birthday. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five,” she admits shyly, wincing as red eyes expand to the size of saucers. The needle pierces the bed of his forefinger before being cast aside in frustration. He can’t remember a time he’s met an elf so young, besides himself.

“Shit,” he sucks his finger between his lips as she watches, “Twenty-five? You’re practically a babe. How in the hells does someone so young get pulled into a situation like this?”

“How in the hells does a vampire?” she spits back, rather annoyed by whatever he’s insinuating. “It’s not like I exactly planned on getting abducted.”

“Excuse me,” he swallows back any lingering disdain, wondering why it bubbled up his throat to begin with. “I’ve never met an elf so young before. Not since…”

He winces at the memory of his demise, the Gur that had cornered him, practically gutted him, left him to bleed out in the gutters. Thirty-nine; practically a babe himself, life only beginning to unfold. Hopeful and excitable in his own way, not unlike the woman knelt across from him. Maybe they had more in common than either thought.

“Are you alright?” a warm hand reaches out, gently resting on the curve of one wrist. Astarion practically winces at the touch, pulling his arm away as though she’s brought a flame to his skin.

“Yes.” He practically snaps, scrambling to retrieve the discarded needle to finish his work and be rid of her for the evening. “Lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh,” Ilwyn folds her hands in her lap, head hanging down as she attempts to ignore the strange feeling of rejection. After all, she was only trying to comfort him. Yet that had been so blatantly refused, almost as if the touch of her was repulsive. “I lose myself in my thoughts many times a night. Back at the sanctum I-”

“You silly little girl,” his words are icy, unfeeling as his gaze remains plastered to the blouse between his fingers. “It’s rather insulting to think that you and I have anything in common.”

“Excuse me?” hurt pulses beneath her skin, overshadowed by the vitriol coursing through her veins. Rage radiates from within her chest, spreading to the rest of her body in a matter of seconds. When he refuses to respond, she yanks the garment from between his fingers, balling it in one hand as he eyes her with contempt.

“Are you that daft?” he snorts, hardly believing the childish display as she clutches the tunic to her chest. “That stitch wasn’t finished. It’ll tear right open again.”

“I don’t need your charity,” she spits before practically careening out of the tent, practically colliding with the ground in a less than graceful motion. Tears well in bleary eyes as an irritated voice echoes behind her.

Ilwyn clutches at the ball of fabric, unshed tears threatening to fall. For only in an instant, she thought she’d won him over.

……

Astarion immediately misses her warmth, supernatural hearing catching the rabid beat of her heart. Not unlike that of the rabbit he’d drained earlier. He winces at the thought of snapping at her so carelessly, driving her away even further.

Ilwyn is the stability he’s craved, a companion that can be trusted, the one that can protect him.

But it doesn’t matter. They can’t get close. He can’t relate to her, confide in her, or even pity her. It’s all too dangerously linked to caring.

And caring about the young elf will doom them both.

#bg3 fanfiction #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #fanfiction #otp: every last drop #ilwyn x astarion #ilstarion

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