#This one got away from me ngl

[hanakou-often]

One of my headcanons is that Kou and Hanako often play fight afterschool as an excuse to spend more quality time with each other!! Hanako says he’s helping Kou train but in reality it keeps him busy a little longer yk? I mean if Kou so happens to get hurt while they spar who knows maybe Hanako can step up to bandage him <3 And maybe if there’s time he can offer a juice pack as a weak consolation? Then Kou shares one with Hanako? As they watch the sun fade in the horizon??? Having learned not only more about their fighting style but each other as a whole?

Anyways in other words: BOYS WILL BE BOYS!!!

[secret-smut-sideblog]

A Dangerous Thing

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ violence, possession, near death, implied self harm, bhaal being fucked up, injuries, fear, hurt/comfort, fingering (f!), oral (f!), sub/dom, (mild) restraint, overstimulation

Almost losing her to Bhaal's influence, Astarion wont let her out of his sight again...

-

In trance he becomes aware of an absence at his side, her divine warmth missing.

"Darling?" He mumbled, fingers searching for her. A breeze on his cheek.

Eyes flashing open to the chasm of his tent door.

Gone.

Scrambling to feet he lunged out into the night, eyes frantic.

It was getting bad, he knew. Saw the way she would freeze, muscles clenching all at once. Paralyzed as she fought for control.

Would do his best to touch her with love, speak reassured to her rigid body. Help her back into herself, though he didnt know how much good it was doing.

We're close. She had sighed. The temple is near, I can feel it. Shuddered. I feel it everywhere.

Fuck. Fuck. He ran tent to tent, looking for those pale horns, those haunting eyes.

He had gotten sloppy, losing focus. Gods why did she put him in charge?!

"Whoa, Fangs! What's going on?" Karlach called, already pulling her boots on seeing the panic in his face.

"She's gone! Hells we have to find her!" He shouted, hands shaking. Eyes everywhere, in every shadow, every space between.

"Shit!" She went to wake the others, sounding out like an alarm.

Finally he saw a sign of her. Sharp footsteps leading into the forest, the heels deep in the mud. She had been running.

No time, he sprinted after her ghost. Calling out her name in big gulping shouts. Heard the others following behind.

I think if I couldn't control it anymore. She had whispered, their hands intertwined. Laying in blissful quiet. I'd end it. Said with such certainty, eyes resolute. It would be my last offering for the world. To stop myself. To leave it untouched.

He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not when she has given him so much. Not before he can tell her he loves her one more time.

Gods let him have this, this one bright beautiful thing.

He gasped out her name when he spotted her silhouette in a clearing. Sitting on knees in the dark.

His voice curdled in his throat as he drew closer, took in the full sight.

Her arms laying limp at her side, face wrenched up to the sky. Bhaal's red lights dancing sickening circles around the crown of her head. Eyes blown wide, glowing red hot.

"Here!" He shouted shakenly to the others somewhere behind, hovering around her. "She's here!"

Terrified into indecision. Hands reaching out, he had to do something.

"Get out!" Her jaw clenching down so hard he thought it would crack. He jumped back, breath caught.

"You are not welcome here. You are not me. You are not in charge." She hissed through her teeth, speaking to something unseen, rage dripping from every word.

"I guided your hand when you spilled your first blood." A deep nauseating voice erupted from her mouth, forming words with her lips. "I have always been here. I am all of you. I am eternal."

Her face going slack into a sickening smile. "You will to say yes to me, child."

Eyes clenching shut, face twisting, pulling back into her mind. "Fuck. You." Her voice venomous.

Lifted invisible by her throat she hovered in the air, legs slack beneath her. Feet grazing the ground. Sigils burning and whipping angry around her.

"I love you." Lashes emerging across her torso. "I love you." Cracking of ribs. "I love you." Arm wrenched from socket, flopping down at her side.

"Stop," Astarion breathed, despair flooding his vision. "Stop, stop, stop!" A rising scream chanted.

Her head lolling puppeteered to look at him. Eyes wide, all radiating crimson. A horrible smile smeared across her angelic face.

"The interloper..." It sneered in her features, amused. "Tell me, little waste..." Turning her in one motion to face him, hovering far higher above the ground. Her full body weight on her throat. Yet it still it spoke.

"Do you really think you can stop her?" Leaning her head down to stare condescending into him. "How long do you think she will resist her call? To deny her birthright?"

"I molded her myself, my body, my blood. She will heed to me."

"You're just another master, another piece of shit that needs control. You dont impress me." He spat. "I've killed one of you before, and I'll enjoy doing it again."

It laughed, booming. Lifting her arms wide, sigils spinning hurricane around her.

He heard the others coming up hot behind him, a flurry of noise. Spells, arrows, enchantments soaring through the air. All hitting mute against the cyclone. It cackled, delighted at their attempts.

Suddenly she wrenched back to the surface, body twisting. "Get away! Go!" Her desperate eyes reaching his. "I can finish this!"

"No!" He bellowed, enraged. "Let us help you! For once let us be the strong ones!" Bloody tears streaming down his shouting face.

Her eyes crumpled at his words and something in the hold broke.

In a piercing wail she fought against her restraints, hair whipping around her head. Pulling her limbs with incredible force against its control. Balling into herself. Releasing them out in a deafening scream. An explosion of force leaving her, pushing them all to their knees.

Prone, he watched her fall. Thudding silent to the ground. "No, no," He begged, crawling to her unmoving body. "Dont leave. Dont leave me."

Cradling her head he stared through thick water. Searching. Desperate. Hands coaxing, pleading, for her to come back.

Shadowheart, Halsin, and Minthara appearing quick at her side, pummeling healing words into her. Lighting her up in waves of blue.

"You can't go. I wont let you." He gripped her as they shouted around him, his tears dropping onto her mottled bruised neck. "I will search every corner of the afterlife and drag you back to us."

Giving it everything she had Shadowheart shouted one last spell, her hands bracing against her still chest.

Silence. Then with a heaving, gasping cough she returned. Hand instinctively finding his cheek.

A deep wail left him, pulling her into him, inconsolable. Body shaking with great heaving sobs of relief.

"Ow." She laughed wetly. Good arm shakily holding him. Eyes bright, meeting the tear stained faces that surrounded them through the window of his shoulder. "Hi everyone."

They all rushed around her, touching her, hugging her, voices all melding into one joyful choir. Still gripping her to his body they held him too.

Karlach planting big kisses on her face. Even planting a quick softer one on his forehead. "Welcome back, soldier!" She boomed. "Dont ever do that shit again!" Yelled with the same smile.

She laughed painfully, clenching her side. "Fuck, okay. You've convinced me."

"We need to get her back to camp." Shadowheart gently squeezed Astarion's shoulder. He agreed but still had his face buried into her. Tremoring.

"Let me lend some aid." Halsin smiled, offering his arms. Waiting for Astarion to release.

Loathe to let her go but knew he wouldn't be able to carry her in this state he nodded.

The druid lifting her gently into his arms she was absent from him. She gave a little sigh into the wide chest. He trailed close, never taking his eyes off her.

She smiled gently at him, reaching out for him. Finding his fingers in hers. Gods, she was cold.

He kissed them, pressing them against his cheek.

"You're okay to sleep, love." She hushed, trailing her hand down his back. "I can get one of the others."

In her tent, made into a makeshift infirmary he shook his head. Only last night she had nearly been lost and his body was still vibrating with anxious energy. Trying not to pace.

"We've moved camp, we're far enough away from the temple now." She tried to reassure. He waved her away, back still turned.

Her hand stopped on his back. Quiet. Still.

"I'm sorry I'm the one you love." A whisper.

He whipped his head, angry. The tears on his face that he had been trying to hide from her laid bare.

"No. No you dont get to do that." Eyes alight in equal parts adoration and indignation. "I have been broken apart countless times and you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. The only person who could ever understand me."

Face twisting in grief, in determination. "I have waited lifetimes for you. How dare you apologize."

Catching the light her tears slipped quiet out of her eyes. Even in this state unbelievably beautiful, always catching him off guard. Neck still patches of green, purple, yellow. Arm slung snugly in a sling. One tip of her horns now notched, caught in her fall. He trailed his hand along it tenderly, never to be the same again.

"I'm sorry." She choked, hearing the heavy catch in her throat.

"Stop." He stared hard into her eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

He pulled her hard into his body. Burying his face in her hair. "I love you. I love you. I love you so much." He pressed his words into her.

"I will never regret you. I will never have something like this again. Even in a hundred years I will never stop thinking of you."

A sob wracked her chest, shaking into him. One arm gripping his shirt. Releasing her grief, her fear into his cool body.

He stroked her hair, wrapping his legs around her lower back. Pulling her fully into him. Yes, let it out.

They stayed like that for a moment, hands anchoring eachother. Her waves of sorrow striking his chest. Breathing in, out.

"When I die I'm haunting your ass so hard." She whispered raggedly, her tears finally slowing. He laughed, wiping his own wet face.

"I'd be offended if you didnt, my sweet."

Pulling back to look at him, eyes overflowing with love. "Ow, damn it." Readjusting her arm in its sling as she shifted. "How long did Shadowheart say this should take again?" She huffed. He tried to hide his smile.

"What's the point of healing magic if it doesn't get the job done..." Grumbling her frustration.

"Already thinking about the next task? Gods you're relentless." He teased.

"We have things to do!"

"Oh how could you possibly take a break, the torment you must endure." He admonished, trailing kisses along her face.

She giggled, the sound lighting up his heart. Caught her sweet mouth in a kiss. Slow. Deep.

She moaned lightly into him, hand cupping the back of his head. Pulling him in deeper.

He sighed contentedly, so glad to do this again. That they had more time. More time for him to get lost in her.

Her hand pulling the ties of his tunic.

"Wait," He breathed, to her discontented whine. Hand still trying to pull him open.

Threading his fingers in hers, he pulled away. "My sweet, slow down." Took her eyes in his. Her mouth slightly swollen from their kiss making him stifle a groan, despite himself.

"You're in no state-"

"Then be gentle." She countered.

"Darling..." He started, unsure.

"Please," She whispered, pushing her forehead into his. Threaded fingers tightening on his. "I need you, I need this."

Gentle, he thought. Gods did he know how to fuck gentle? Had he? Maybe some time in the past, long before.

Could see the nervousness in her eyes as well, asked for entrance to her mind.

She obliged, and he found their thoughts mingling. Not the exact same, but rhyming. Fear. Longing. Love. Pain. Things lost. Things terrified to be found.

He smiled warmly, pulling her back into his kiss. I told you. He spoke to her.

What? She thought.

You and I know eachother. I see you, you see me. See me so clearly.

So is that a yes? Could feel her cheeky smile against his lips.

He sighed, defeated. Trying not to prove his rising arousal as she gave a little squeal of triumph.

Now, how to do this delicately. He pushed them forward, laying her down onto her back. Hand bracing her slow descent. Though he focused on undressing her as softly as he could, his kiss was searing.

Her hand pulled his shirt hard over his head, he maneuvered his arms to assist her. Her leg hooking up under his, pushing it out to be straddling over her.

"Oh so only I have to be gentle..."

"Do you want me to be?" She rumbled in his ear, sending a shudder down his spine.

"Gods no,"

Pulling the last of her clothes off he stared down at her, breath taken. Both by her beauty and the state of her body.

Criss cross slashes stretching across her torso, sewn deftly closed. Bruises that veiled over her ribs. Could see the discoloration between the tight bandages holding her shoulder.

Trying not to be overcome again, he leaned down, ghosting soft kisses over her angry skin.

"You'll tell me if we need to stop, yes?" He urged.

She smiled down at him, carding her fingers through his hair. "Of course, my love."

Satisfied he continued his feather light lips down her front.

"How are you so beautiful?" He marveled.

Delighted in the blush that crept up to her cheeks. To make a bhaalspawn blush, his bhaalspawn.

"Darling this position you've so graciously put me in gives me an idea." He mused, absentmindedly swirling little circles on her clit. One leg over her hip, one between her thighs. He stood up on knees, getting a better feel. Oh this could work.

"Good thing your lower extremities are unscathed, sweet thing." Grabbing a pillow he lifted her by one plush thigh and pushed it under her hips. Heard her little aroused groan at being manhandled. "Yes this will do nicely." He preened, now had the perfect angle.

"I never doubted you for a second." She tried for teasing but couldn't hide the lust in her voice.

His free hand dragging soft up and down her entrance, joining his fingers already worshipping her hard mound. Hands busy he had the perfect view to watch her unwind under him.

Her head fell back, arching slightly. Horns digging against the pillow.

He slowly inserted two digits into her, shallowly pumping. The angle perfect to go as far as he could, but not yet. Just teasing her entrance. Fingers on her clit pushing more force. Her little gasping breaths goading him on.

Started pushing inside her with earnest, fingers curling in the way he knew made her mewl. Hand on her clit feather light.

Alternating his force back and forth between his two hands he could tell he was driving her mad. Slick already dripping down under his fingers.

"Astarion," She groaned, hand gripping the sheet.

"I'm all pointy ears, darling." He teased, switching hands again just to make her gasp.

"Gods, please fuck me already." She panted, looking into his eyes.

"Ah, but we need to be careful." He purred, smiling like a fox cornering a hen. "Nothing too strenuous, you know. Gotta make sure you're-" Both hands with pressure, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Up to it." He finished.

"You know I can kill you, right?"

"Oh we're doing threats now," He hissed, smiling down over her. "How rude."

Both hands working in a blur she was an incoherent writhing mess. Hips trying to get away. He sat his weight on her side, pinning her there. "Oh come on now, I know you can take it."

He knew she was so close to being undone as he watched. Her hot panting groans getting more frantic, higher. Hips squirming helplessly under him.

Leaning over he looked into her eyes. "I want you to come all over my hand."

Her eyes went wide then squeezed shut. Face contorting in anguished pleasure. Clenching down hard on his fingers she wailed an esctastic cry. Hips jutting up into his body, hiking him up. Shocked by the strength of her.

Moving down quickly he pushed his mouth into her, tongue working rapidly. Taking up the pace of his fingers.

She almost screamed, hand gripping his hair.

Wrapping his arms around her retreating thighs he ravaged. Groaning into her, already so much creamy slick pushing out of her. All for him.

Already on the cusp of a second orgasm he watched her through her spread legs. Suckling down hard on her clit, merciless.

"Oh gods, oh fuck," She whimpered, head craning back. Pelvis shaking.

So perfect, you taste so sweet. He thought to her, connecting their minds. Honeysuckle... Groaning into her.

Her mouth falling open in a silent scream, eyes hitching. Seizing under his mouth, head lolling. Her body an arched bridge. Sharp talons leaving his hair and ripping into the sheet.

He palmed over her overstimulated core as she collapsed, knew his cool hand would bring relief. Kissing softly below her navel. Her body still trembling, breath regaining from the drown of her pleasure.

"If I wasnt already in the infirmary.." She breathed when she found her words again.

He laughed, sliding in next to her. Adjusting her slightly so he could slot under her. Wrapping his leg around her side, straddled behind her.

She fell back into his chest, already spent.

"Damn, maybe I'm not as ready as I thought I was." She laughed, threading her hand into his.

"Told you." He murmured into her hair. Pulling their joined hands to his lips.

She got quiet for a moment, knocking her head gently into his.

"I'm going to get better, I promise." Speaking on more than her injuries.

"I know, my sweet girl."

~

Part 5

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

Rudy's favourite nickname for Mini is jaan. It means life, but it's also a reassurance for the daughter of death. A child who's so well-acquainted with her father in one of the worst ways. She's surrounded by death every day— she sees it in her patients, she herself had to protect them from death several times. He could see it wearing down on her, that shadow of death dimming her bright spark of light, so he decided to whisper that nickname. In an unguarded moment, when she laughed freely, hiding a perpetual sadness. She was confused, and she asked her question with a laugh: "Why that nickname? I hope you're aware you sound like every main character of every Bollywood movie,"

He just smiles and buries his face in the crook of her neck, saying, "Well, it's true, you are jaan."

She just snickered, calling him sappy and cringey, but he couldn't help but notice how she brightened every time he called her that. Like a spark turning into a new flame.

[shalomniscient]

i just woke up, it’s 7am and i’m having thoughts about jingliu…

if there was one person on the luofu who knew jingliu the longest, it was you. not the high cloud quintet or the cloud knights, you. the daughter of jingliu’s master, and the stubborn sword champion’s personal healer. she entered your life as a gangly, hungry girl who could barely hold a sword in both hands—and now, she’s the greatest warrior the luofu has ever seen.

but more importantly, now, she’s your wife.

it seemed almost like an inevitability, that you’d fall for her. for all that she was your mother’s disciple, you didn’t see her much as children. jingliu would always be training, and you would always be studying. it was only after she became a member of the cloud knights, and you a member of the alchemy commission, that things would really start to blossom—like a lotus flower, bright and pure.

you were the only healer jingliu really trusted and even allowed to heal her. the warrior had a stubborn streak several miles wide, but perhaps it was the echo of your mother in you that had her obediently heeling to your treatments—a fact that always awed her fellow cloud knights, who teased her relentlessly about it. “whipped,” they’d say. jingliu would only grumble and grudgingly thank you, before leaving the clinic and decidedly and publicly putting every one of her squadmates on their asses during a sparring match.

but nonetheless, it is no one but jingliu who comforts you when teng xiao arrives at your door, a set of armor folded neatly in his arms, and a grim, apologetic look on his face. that night it is jingliu who sits by your side, letting you weep into her shoulder as she awkwardly and clumsily attempts to console you. grief burns through you like a wildfire, but jingliu is there, her presence soothing and cool like moonlight. you both fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms, finding that, if nothing else, there is comfort in shared loss.

the next morning, you ask her about it as you both still hold each other close. jingliu’s mouth opens and closes, struggling to choose the right words. “i swore to her that i’d protect you,” she answers. it makes you smile, just a little, even if grief still twists sharply in your heart.

“you’re protecting me by cuddling me?” you tease her, and her pale cheeks flush.

“that’s— i believed you might have needed—“ she stammers, and you cut her off by pressing closer against her cool body.

“i’m just teasing,” you whisper against her skin, arms tightening around her muscular form. as if to ground yourself, as if to assure yourself that she’s really here. “i appreciate it, jingliu. thank you.”

at your words, the warrior relaxes. her voice is barely higher than yours when she replies, tinged with a hint of tenderness. “of course.”

jingliu is different, after that. you guess that it’s because you are all she has left—much the same in how she is all you have left. there is a gentle awkwardness to her now, like someone who has never known how to be soft trying to learn for the first time. she sits patiently as she lets you fuss over her wounds, knowing that you need this, that you need to know she’s alright. she only looks away when you get a little too close, when she can feel the warmth of your breath on her skin, and she hopes you don’t notice (you do).

she comes to the house whenever she can, which feels just a little emptier without your mother’s commanding presence. she stands shoulder to shoulder next to you at the counter making dumplings, her rough, battle-scarred hands dwarfing your own more delicate ones—but she wraps the dumplings with finesse all the same. you eat them together, quietly, but the silence is comfortable. you know each other enough that words are unnecessary. these nights you can only ever fall asleep in her arms—and she can only ever fall asleep in yours. neither of you question it, but what is there to question anyway?

jingliu ends up being many of your firsts—including your first kiss. it happens on one of those nights, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but a sliver of moonlight to illuminate jingliu’s pale face. you feel her pulse jump under your touch, as your thumb traces the ridge of her cheekbones and your lips press gently against hers. kissing her is nothing grand, no fireworks or butterflies—just the quiet sense of finally coming home.

jingliu is your first time, too. her hands trail down your body with reverence, lips pressing kisses like prayers against your skin. she brings you to the edge of heaven with her fingers and her mouth until you lie boneless on the sheets. she kisses you while your essence is still smeared across her lips, and you eagerly return the favor.

jingliu is your first and only love. it’s the soft, quiet kind, more of a respite than a whirlwind in and of itself. a shelter where both of you can return to, when the world becomes too much. you’re there for each other at the lowest lows and the highest highs—jingliu attends the ceremony as you’re sworn in as the cauldron master of the alchemy commission, eyes trained only on you as you accept the honor. and you attend jingliu’s ascenscion ceremony for the title of sword champion, standing at the forefront of the crowd, a proud smile on your face. to jingliu, that is her true victory.

and yet, even as the sword champion, there are still things she fears—like telling you she loves you. it takes a grand amount of coaxing from her new friends—a blacksmith, a high elder, and a pilot, respectively—before she works up the courage. she whispers it against your neck one moonlit night, intertwined with you in the sheets. her voice trembles ever so slightly, her breath fanning unevenly against your skin, and she tenses when you laugh softly. but the tension bleeds out of her immediately when you say it back, and she slumps against you, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.

(baiheng and yingxing later force her to buy them drinks, and she does so, grudgingly. after all, they were right when they said there was no way you’d say anything other than ‘i love you too’. dan feng only attends for the free alcohol, but he is happy for her nonetheless.)

your marriage is a quiet affair—or as quiet as it can get, with baiheng and yingxing together on the guestlist. but it is perfect, to you and jingliu. the rings were crafted by yingxing, inlaid with stones baiheng discovered along the trailblaze. neither of you actually wear them on your fingers due to your jobs, but none other than dan feng gifts the both of you corded red rope to loop the rings through and wear as a necklace. it becomes your greatest treasure, even centuries down the line.

the next few months of your life are calm and routine—until jingliu returns home one day with a teenager, of all things. the boy has long, shaggy, white hair, and curious golden eyes. He reminds you of a cat.

“this is jing yuan,” jingliu introduces to you. “my disciple.”

the boy greets you politely, before jingliu sends him off to an empty room in your home for him to claim as his own. once the boy is out of sight, you turn to jingliu, quirking a brow.

“disciple?”

she nods. “yes. i believe he has potential.”

you only hum at her answer, stepping forward to fix her collar. she lets you fuss, as you always have, and then presses her lips against yours gently, her hands on your waist. “trust me,” she whispers, and you do.

jing yuan fits into your life more easily than you expected. a sharp-witted young man, quick with a blade but even quicker with his words. it isn’t long before you grow fond of him as well—in an almost parental sort of way. before you realise, you start fussing over him the way you fuss over jingliu. it seems you’re not the only one susceptible to jing yuan’s charm, since the newly formed high cloud quintet adore him just as much—baiheng, especially, is delighted to have another little brother figure besides yingxing. jingliu is no exception; the pride in her gaze as she watches jing yuan train is visible to anyone.

nowadays, your home feels fuller. it is no longer just you and hingliu making dumplings—another pair of hands, sometimes even another three appear to help. the dinner table is full more often than not, and there always seems to be more plates in the sink. sometimes you find purple fur on the floor, or the occasional jade-like scale in between your couch cushions. but joy, you learn, is fleeting. nnd no one ever notices it is here until it is gone, ripped from your hands before you can even blink.

jingliu is your first and only love. she is also your first and only heartbreak.

everything you’ve built with jingliu over the course of centuries crumbles in a matter of days. the battle against shuhu is vicious. you can barely even keep up against the constant stream of injured that flood the alchemy commission. you and your colleagues down energising pill after energising pill to stay on your feet and support the xianzhou forces. tet the news from the frontline would nonetheless bring you to your knees.

baiheng, dead. yingxing, cursed. dan feng, imprisoned. and worst of all—

jingliu, mara-struck.

the ten lords commission keep her under strict watch in a holding cell. you barely have the time to visit, what with the number of patients that demand your attention. jing yuan is the one who visits her, by his authority as the new arbiter general. he speaks to you when he can, updates you on her condition—but you’ve treated enough cases to know when something is bad, even if jing yuan tries to assuage you with purposefully vague wording.

she barely recognises you when you approach her. her beautiful ruby eyes are covered by a ragged, black cloth. thick, metal bindings encircle her wrists and restrain her arms behind her back. you call her name, quietly, gently, trying your hardest to stifle the tremble in your voice. sometimes, there is a flicker of recognition. most of the time, there is nothing.

you return to an empty house. it’s so, so cold, and your bed is far too big. you hold tightly to your ring, praying that jingliu be spared this fate. but the aeon does not listen.

because no more than a few months later, jingliu breaks free from her confinement, and rampages across the luofu. smoke chokes the air as ice and frigid wind sweeps across the epicenter that is jingliu. but instead of running away, you run towards her. the ice seems to part and melt before you as you run. you need to see her.

instead, all you witness is the majesty of the lightning lord, as he strikes down your beloved.

nothing remains of jingliu. they find no body, not even any remnants of armor or personal effects. after that, they strike her name from every record for her dishonor. all her achievements, her victories—erased. as if she never existed. you are forced to resign as cauldron master in shame, with your apprentice dan shu taking your place.

you feel… nothing. only a pervasive, parasitic emptiness spreading through your entire being. you spend your days in a bed in a guest room—you can’t bring yourself to set foot in the room you once shared with her. the kitchen lies deserted. you barely feel hunger or thirst, or any sort of sensation. and yet, you keep living. your cells respire and your lungs draw breath, and your heart still thumps in your chest—even as your soul rots and decays.

the only thing—or person, rather—that stirs you now somewhat is jing yuan. he has lost everyone too, this general who will always be that curious-eyed boy to you. you do your best to pick yourself up; if not for yourself, then for him.

(but jing yuan knows. he sees it in your eyes, the truth of the matter. the guilt that gnaws at you, that compels you to keep fussing over him.

you think that caring for him will help you atone for the way you failed jingliu. he wants to tell you that his master would’ve never thought such a thing. but he doesn’t, and lets you mother him all the same.

he needs this too.)

jing yuan appoints you as his personal healer, even as his advisors protest. they question your ability—after all, how could a good healer not even mend the one she loved most?

that moment is the first and last time you ever see jing yuan angry. it fades as quickly as it comes, however, and you are appointed as his personal healer nonetheless. you remain by his side for the next few centuries, watching as he grows more and more into the role of the general. the pain of your loss doesn’t heal—not fully, at least, but it scabs over.

still, you can’t help the ache in your chest when jing yuan approaches you one day, a young boy at his heels.

“this is my disciple, yanqing,” he introduces. the boy has flaxen hair, and expressive amber eyes. there’s a fire in them, a determination that you remember seeing in a pair of ruby ones. he greets you, politely and a little shyly.

it’s a painfully familiar scene, and the best you can manage is a wordless smile.

yanqing becomes another target of your fussing soon enough. he squirms when you check him over for injuries, insisting that he’s fine. the boy is incorrigibly stubborn. but in the end, he is still a boy. his enthusiasm, unmarred by grief and loss, brings a liveliness to your monotone life. you can’t help but sneak a few more extra strales into his pockets for swords when jing yuan isn’t looking.

(but he knows. jing yuan always knows.)

you are not happy, not truly, not without her, never without her, but for now you are content. the boys in your life give you reason enough to keep going.

yet your life turns upside down once more when the stellaron bursts on the luofu. jing yuan keeps you away from the whirlwind of conflict, assigning an elite squad of his knights to guard your house. it makes you curious, but the answer reveals itself to you only a few days after the crisis is resolved.

there, standing amidst the unconscious bodies of the cloud knights supposed to guard you, is none other than the ghost of your beloved.

she’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.

[chronosdawn]

Pact - Patron!Neuvillette x Warlock!Reader

Fantasy AU, GN!Reader

Content warnings: Very minor descriptions of gore at the beginning, slightly weird power dynamics and age difference because Neuvillette is not human (but to be clear, the reader is an adult).

Word count: 2.6k

“Neuvillette wishes to speak with you.”

It was an effort not to sigh when you heard the soft sweet voice behind you. You turned, already knowing the sight that would greet you as you wiped a smear of blood from your cheek. Low and behold, a well-dressed Melsuine stood before you—Sedene, if you recalled correctly.

You’d known this was coming, had felt the tug in the power that flowed through your veins—water currents twisting, drawing you back towards their source.

“Is it urgent?” you asked, keen to put this encounter off for as long as possible.

“I was asked to wait until you finished your work and then guide you to the closest source of spring water. You have finished now, haven’t you?” You’d never been able to read Melsuines’ expressions particularly well, no matter how much contact you had with them as Neuvillette’s subjects. Sedene—if that was indeed her name—was looking past you, something that might have been pity in her eyes as she took in the bodies. You stepped carefully in front of the worst of the gore, suddenly struck with a small twinge of guilt at your part in the grim display.

“I…” You could lie, could take advantage of Sedene’s innocence and say you were not in fact finished with your work, that Neuvillette would have to wait. The power in you surges once more, pulling at your core, likely attempting to drag you to whatever spring water Sedene had mentioned.

“Yes, I’m finished. Let’s go.” As you stepped towards her, you cast your hand back to the carnage, a cool sensation washing over your arm as your borrowed magic went to work, turning flesh to water until the only evidence of your activities was your blood-stained clothing.

If the Melsuine disapproved of your use of Neuvillette’s power, she did not say, instead lifting a small blue-green arm in the direction of a rock formation some distance away. “This way, please.”

You walked in near silence, the caw of magpies—their black and white shapes weaving through the few trees dotted about the grassy slope—the only sound aside from the faint crunch of plant matter beneath your feet. As you neared the large, slate-gray rocks, you realised they actually made up the mouth of a cave, the entrance just large enough for a person to fit through.

Sedene stepped through the opening without a hint of hesitation and you followed, pausing when you were met with only beckoning darkness.

“Is it much further?”

“It’s not far. Spring water flows from the mountains through this cave, a pool has formed in its depths.”

“I er…” you faltered, the taste of weakness bitter on your tongue. “I can’t see in the dark.”

“Oh.” She turned back to face you, the pink of her eyes dulled to gray in the thin strips of sunlight filtering through the cave entrance. “I’m sorry, you’ve been Neuvillette’s for so long that I forget you do not see as we do.”

You bit down on your tongue to avoid saying anything you might later regret—especially if enough of Neuvillette’s power had already manifested here to allow him to hear it. Sedene extended her arm towards you. “Don’t worry, I’ll lead you and make sure you don’t get hurt along the way.”

Her hand was cooler than yours, you noted as you wrapped your fingers around it, although you suspected the both of you ran cool compared to regular humans. You hoped she’d assume the trembling of your hand was due to nothing more than a fear of the dark as she led you into cave, turning a bend that robbed you of any remaining scraps of light. Truthfully, you didn’t like being in the dark as it forced you to rely on your other senses, including the one you’d received the day you signed your pact with Neuvillette—your sense of him. Clearly, he’d been waiting for you for a while, the already claustrophobic atmosphere heavy with his magic.

You knew you were close to your destination when you felt a sudden change in humidity, a fine mist spreading over your skin like a welcoming embrace. A shudder ran through you as Sedene came to a stop.

“We’re here, would you like me to guide you to the pool?”

“No,” you replied, letting go of her hand and then fighting against the panic of losing your only anchor in the dark. “I’ll be okay, if you could just wait nearby to help me when I leave that would be great.”

There was a lengthy pause, though without being able to see her face, you couldn’t even begin to guess at what the reason for it might be.

“I will show you the way out once he has finished with you.” The sound of soft footsteps back the way you’d come told you she was leaving and you struggled against the instinct to surge after her. It was likely she was just giving you privacy out of respect for Neuvillette—it certainly wouldn’t be his interests to leave you stranded in a cave in the middle of nowhere, or at least you hoped it wouldn’t anyway.

Letting out a sigh, you carefully took to removing your boots and socks, rolling your trousers up to the knee as you did so. After a bit of feeling your way around, you managed to find a wall to place them near, hoping that you’d be able to find them again when it came time to go. The water at least, you didn’t have to fumble your way to, Neuvillette’s power so apparent in it, you could feel the draw in every part of your body.

You slowly lowered yourself into it, wincing when you found the water line came up not to your knees but your waist, soaking your clothing. The moment you touched the pool, the effect was immediate, pale blue lights appearing in the water, allowing you to finally see the place you’d been brought to. The cave itself was fairly unremarkable, the lack of light resulting in little growing over the walls. The figure slowly forming from the water however, was an entirely different story. No matter how many times you’d seen this little party trick of Neuvillette’s, you couldn’t imagine you’d ever not be at least a little in awe of it. Water rising upwards and twisting together, coalescing until it formed pale skin and long white hair. Soon, the tall figure of Neuvillette was standing before you, and though the shape he took on was human enough, the violet hue of his eyes was not.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice echoing in the small space.

“You wanted to see me?” You shifted awkwardly in the water, all too aware of how close he was.

For moment, there was no reply, Neuvillette simply regarded you with an expression you couldn’t read. “You’re covered in blood. You’re injured.”

“It’s not mine, it’s—” you started to say but cut off as you felt something caress the back of your thigh followed by a sharp sting. “Shit, I guess one of the guys I was fighting must have snagged me, but it can’t be anything more than just a scratch.”

“Hm.” The figure of Neuvillette remained standing in the water before you, even as something began to gently prod at your wound. Of course, this humanoid form of his was just put on for your benefit, for a water spirit such as him, the entire pool he’d turned his power towards may just as well have been his body—something you tried extremely hard not to think about while stood waist deep in it.

“Honestly, it’s fine we can just—” you let out an abrupt yelp as a surge of magic ran up the back of your thigh accompanied by the unpleasant feeling of your flesh knitting itself back together.

“It’s been taken care of. Are you injured anywhere else?”

Without waiting for a response, you felt the water slowly begin the creep higher over your body, searching for any other tears in your skin.

“Wait! I promise, I’m fine!” The water stopped but one look at Neuvillette told you it was not the end of the matter.

“Show me.”

“I’m telling you—”

He cut you off by speaking your name, and you were struck with the full magnitude of the influence he had over you. You could remember your mother telling you names had power, recounting you with bedtime stories of what happened to people who were stupid enough to use them to sign contracts with spirits in exchange for the magic equivalent of table crumbs. A pity you’d failed to take any of those lessons on board.

With no small amount of reluctance, you crouched down in the water, low enough that it covered you entirely. You gave Neuvillette roughly ten seconds before you stood up again, trying very hard not to imagine everything he’d been able to feel in that time.

“Satisfied?”

“Yes, thank you. I am relieved you came out of your confrontation relatively unscathed.”

You made an effort to wipe some of the water from your face with your sleeve. “So, what was it you summoned me here to talk about?”

“Ah yes. You remember the terms of our pact, I assume?” Your head snapped up to look at him. Of course you remembered, that pact bound you, body and soul, forgetting even a single line of it would have been foolish beyond reason.

“I do,” you replied carefully. “Did you want me to repeat them for you?” It was a relatively simple pact as far as these things went. The power you had been entrusted with was only to be used to harm those with ill-intent, you were to protect innocents and uphold order whenever possible, and should Neuvillette require you to use your skills in a particular place, then you were to go. Somewhat to your surprise, that last term had never come up, although you suspected it was because a being of his power never really needed a warlock to do their bidding.

“No, I trust that you are being truthful. However, I brought you here as I suspect you are unaware that you are close to breaking one of those terms.”

“What?” you snapped. “That’s not possible, I’ve taken every care not to. Those guys today were traffickers I’ve had my eye on for well over a month, there’s no way they don’t count as having ill-intent!”

“It is not the people you fought today I speak of.” Perhaps the worst part of this conversation was that Neuvillette didn’t even sound angry—at least certainly not the way a patron was supposed to when a pact came close to being broken. “It is with regards to the protection of innocents.”

You could only blink at him, utterly baffled. Had there been someone at the fight today you hadn’t noticed, someone you were supposed to protect?

Noting your confusion, he elaborated, “or did you not realise such a term extended to yourself?”

“Myself? What are you talking about?”

“When you first approached me, I was initially unsure of entering into such an agreement. You were young, even by human standards.” You’d been eighteen, not young exactly but more than a little stupid. “But you were so desperate to do good in the world, so full of compassion for it that I knew if I refused you, you would likely seek out another, perhaps one who was not so benevolent. And so, I decided I would take you as my own, and include a condition in your pact that would mean you would need to take your own safety into account.”

Of course you’d never thought the term innocents would include you, you’d stopped thinking of yourself as such the first time you’d spilled blood to save another. But better for you to dirty your hands than let the world rot, or at least that’s what you’d thought at the time.

“So what? I came close to breaking our pact because I got a scratch? I’ve been injured before and it’s never resulted in this.” You gestured towards him and the pool.

“I appreciate such injuries can be unavoidable at times, thus why the pact specifies that you should protect innocents where possible. But is it not true that you have spent the past several months working yourself to the bone? I cannot remember the last time I felt you stop to rest for any longer than required to keep your body going.”

There was no accusation in his eyes, if anything, you thought there might have been a slither of care. What were you supposed to say, that you were starting to regret your choices? That the last time you’d been home, you’d been too afraid to touch your best friend’s newborn son for fear of the amount of blood on your hands, no matter how clean they may seem to everyone else. That you looked at all the people you used to know and felt like you’d ruined yourself for the peaceful life they seemed to enjoy and now this was the only road forward.

“I admit I may have pushed myself a little harder than usual, but I wasn’t aware it would violate our pact. I can stop, take a couple of days off in the closest town, before…” Before getting back to work. But you couldn’t admit that, could you? Couldn’t say there was nothing else for you to get back to.

“I fear that even though you are now aware of your mistake, you will not be able to stop yourself from repeating it. I have watched you, you know, from the rain and the rivers and the streams, and this is why I have decided to step in myself.” You felt your stomach turn to lead, the walls of the cave suddenly seeming to push in on you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to take a step back only to find your leg wouldn’t move, the water holding you firmly in its grasp.

“It means you will rest here, with me, until I am sure you are in a condition to properly take care of yourself again.”

“Wait, Neuvillette!” You reached out a hand, only to watch, horrified, as the water rose up from the pool and spread up your arm. With no warning, you were pulled down under the surface, water filling your nose and mouth. Drowning was of no concern to you, the magic you’d received made sure of that, but being trapped in here with Neuvillette was. You’d heard stories of what happened to people who were exposed to a spirit’s power for too long, warlock or not, and they very rarely came out entirely human by the end of it. And that was without taking into account that a spirit’s sense of time was likely to be very different to yours. How long would pass before you were allowed back into the world? Would your friend’s son be a man by the time Neuvillette let you go? You were struck with the thought of all the people you knew, wrinkled or dead while the healing power of his waters kept you preserved through the decades.

You tried to struggle, but it was useless, had been the moment you’d entered the water. The current pulled you to the bottom, those pale blue lights dancing above you as Neuvillette’s humanoid form dissipated, collapsing back into the water. He wasn’t gone though, you could feel him all around you, gentle hands coaxing you to sleep.

Rest, I will stay and protect you while you do.

His voice came from all around you, from the very liquid inside your skull. No, you thought desperately, fighting to stay awake even as your limbs were held down. But in the end, it was useless, and you were carried away with the tide as lights winked out above you.

If you enjoyed this fic please consider checking out my masterlist. Thank you for reading!

[toelessbastard]

WHEN CHARACTERS GET THROWN IN WATER AND THEIR HAIR CURLS !!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways can we eat up his tattoo or wtvr. Hello.

[and-his-hands-were-24-crows]

Tower:Prince

What's up, friendos, I'm still trying to learn Procreate. 🙃

[c-kiddo]

finished scavengers reign s1 .

[lord-emerson]

⬤, ✈ or # for Howard and Oz <3

- @letters-of-fire

[3 in 1 for you, my dear <3 Send me a symbol for a drabble!]

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey; ✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]; #: shaky hands 

In Case of Emergency

Rating: General

Relationships: Howard Underhouse/Oswald J. Emerson

Tags: Modern Setting, Banter & Bickering, Hospital Visit, Fake Marriage (barely fake at this point tbh), Fluff & Angst, like 90% fluff 10% angst tbh, this takes place after Oz had a medical emergency but he's fine by the time the fic begins dw

Words: 758

Summary: "He was alive. Oswald was alive and breathing next to him and that was all that mattered."

He was alive. Oswald was alive and breathing next to him and that was all that mattered. Exhaustion was radiating off of Howard in waves as he laid his head in his hands next to Oswald’s hospital bed.

He should be fine within a week, the nurse told him. There was no need to worry — appendectomies were a routine procedure for most surgeons apparently. But having to rush to the hospital, not yet knowing why his partner had just gone into surgery was certainly not a routine procedure Howard. In fact he’d only done it once before, and by the end of the week she was…

This is not about her, he had to remind himself. It was a different situation altogether. She was his wife whom he loved with all his heart, and Oswald was… Oswald was…

“How…ard?”

Howard startled at the sound of Oswald’s voice, roughened by sleep. He was rubbing his eye with one hand and mindlessly reaching out towards Howard with another. Howard took the hand into both of his without hesitation.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The nickname, often spoken with an air of irony and contempt between the two of them, was currently showing trace of neither. “How are you feeling?”

Oswald didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to be taking in his surroundings, slowly piecing together recent events through the haze painkillers and exhaustion.

“I’m just peachy,” he said, staring into the middle distance. Howard tried not to think too much of it. He was ready to ask another question, when Oswald beat him to it:

“What are you doing here?”

He was looking straight at him now. His gaze was intense and focused, so much so that it had Howard letting go of his hand immediately. Coughing into his closed fist, Howard made an attempt at composing himself.

“I’m the closest thing you have to an emergency contact, I’m afraid. Could’ve called Bella or Monty, but given that we are legally married, they called me.”

Oswald gave him another long look. Then he sank back into his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

“I suppose,” he said. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a big breath in preparation for a sigh, which got interrupted by a wince of pain.

“Careful,” Howard said, rising to his feet to… Do what, exactly? Tell Oswald not to breathe? Jesus, get a hold of yourself.

He was hoping he could avoid the embarrassment of Oswald seeing him fussing for no reason, but of course his eyes opened just in time to catch him in the act. He cocked his head a little — despite everything, it was almost endearing. And for the first time since waking up, he smiled.

“Good, you’re up. Can you bring me a Fanta Orange?”

Howard snorted.

“Oh, so now you’re happy to see me, huh?” He was smiling, too. “I’m not sure you’re allowed to eat or drink yet, actually.”

“Fine. Orange juice then.”

“I don’t think that makes a difference.”

“And I think it would be cruel to dismiss the last wishes of a dying man.”

“Oh, shut up. You just had an appendectomy. You’ll live.”

“You don’t know that. I could still die. I need a source of vitamin C if I am to survive this.”

Howard shook his head fondly. Even now, the man had enough energy to get on his nerves. Seeing that this particular battle was won, Oswald was quietly basking in his victory. He lifted his head in an all too familiar fashion — a sign of haughtiness, as well as a clear invitation for a kiss.

When Howard reached out a hand to cup his husband’s face, he was surprised to see it shaking. He saw that Oswald saw it, too. Uncertain if he was about to comment on it or not, Howard quickly leaned down and pressed his lips against his.

Looks like I won this one, he thought distantly as Oswald hummed into the kiss. After they broke apart, Howard graced Oswald’s cheeks with one more kiss each. He was ready to pepper him with even more when Oswald turned away, pushing on his chest with all of his reduced might.

“No more distractions, Howard. Only orange juice.”

“Tsk. I thought you had better manners than this,” Howard said, eyebrows raised.

Oswald rolled his eyes.

“Could my dear legal husband get me a beverage before I die of thirst? Preferably of the orange-flavoured kind? Pretty please?”

“It would be my honour,” Howard chuckled, planting a final kiss on the tip of Oswald’s nose.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Summary:

Three little scenes on the theme of singing.

:) I was in the mood for something short and sweet. Hope you enjoy!

[kuromi-hoemie]

so like..

is the idea that as a compromise to only having to toggle off tumblr live once a month, you now have this permanent tumblr live icon regardless of ur setting choice stuck to the bottom in the middle of everything in the hopes that i click on it accidentally anyways even though it's clear i don't want it or? where is the NO 100% STOP GIVING ME THIS SHIT I DON'T ACCEPT YOUR POLICIES AND LITERALLY COULD NOT CARE LESS ABOUT TUMBLR LIVE AND WILL NEVER BE INTERESTED IN THIS TYPE OF FEATURE OR FORMAT.

@zingring @photomatt @humans idk how many feedback requests people have to cut tumblr for "no" to just be a valid response here. ppl aren't dumb and see u inching over the line trying to force this on them despite the snooze choice.

what, are there so many ppl snoozing and such a low adoption rate that you know you need to trick users into using it so you can "make number go up" or? 🙄

[graciebrams]

🫧

[carangel]

LISTEN

This is so damn specific I find it hard to even IMAGINE it in an X reader because when u play with reader aus we all know they’re basically ocs

And I don’t play with the whole X reader in the tags and it’s actually an oc

BUT IMAGINE AN ANTIHAREM:

Where it’s the basic, you’re the ‘friend’ who gets invited in and everyone dogs on u cause little miss liar can’t stop making herself look good.

Like geez narc much

But I want to expand more on the aspects of souls, soulmates and aus

Listen, I’m a firm believer in the whole ‘soulmate = compatibility not destiny’

and somehow this woman matches the soul frequency of ALL the boys

But like LISTEN, y’all ever like been listening to music and like, you’re imagining AMV’s and animation memes for your oc??

I’d like to think here, soul frequencies are just instrumentals, or at least one HALF is

Example: I HEAR A SYMPHONY

One soul is the lyrics, one soul is the instruments

Or yk, instrumental that flows well together

Like, they come together to make a full SONG

EITHER WAY

Ik I’m getting a lil ahead of myself but stay with me even tho I’m realizing how delulu this all sounds

Some how this miss is copying every, single, one

It’s almost as if she already knew the song and knew what to copy

But you can’t do that right? Your soul frequency is your own, right???

But like, what if there was some multidimensional changeling shit going on and she like-

Idk man

Locked away all the au versions of the reader/oc to copy the songs and she switches up when needed

Cause if yk MLP shit yk how changelings copy

And if I was a changeling, having a whole harem that loves and spoils me without question 👀

Seems like a buffet to me

You might be wondering

Cara, Carangel, Ciao (if ykyk)

How would you even set this up? How would the changebitch capture all the alternate yous/mes?

What about the main reader/oc? Wouldn’t they put a wrench in the plans??

Idk

Maybe they figured out in another au and traveled to one where you hadn’t met the boys yet

Unknowing that you were in existence but when they did changebitch was like

Oh if I make them hate her they’ll never know

Idk man

I’m just here for the climax

Where it’s revealed that the ladi is a FRAUD

And I’m not opposed to murder as a punishment

And yk, maybe after the au counterparts are released everyone goes back to their au.

I DO KNOW

End goal would be swap x swap!reader/oc, tale x tale!reader/oc

Ect

[tweedfrog]

It's so funny to think of Sean Bean playing Count Vronsky like AU where Ned never got fostered in the Vale and he grew up with Brandon instead who infected him with adultery and instead of Rickard dying at Kings Landing he just begins to have stress alopecia and never sets foot outside Winterfell because they start calling him the balding wolf

[garrettwrites]

I see so many posts about cats being dumb that I honestly question if the countless cats I've been around my whole life are/were real or not. I've only ever met one dumb cat. Every single other one would win at chess if their far superior brain, geared towards bigger achievements, could spare time to comprehend the rules.

[m1d-45]

i would share my builds but. i’m gonna be honest i just go with vibes. weapon would look pretty with certain character? it’s theirs now. artifacts seem even slightly useful regardless of whether or not they’re the most efficient set? slap those bitches on. i play genshin like i play pokemon: with my favorites and while pressing as many buttons as possible until the enemy dies - teddy anon

OH YOU JUST LIKE ME FR FR

kazuha has the isshin sword even though i have an aquila favonia cause that goes to kaeya who i built because i like him, even when he did lower damage. i run kazuha as a dps even though he’s supposed to be support (i have a p well done diluc that does more normal attack damage but.. kazuha :] and kukis supposed to be like a hyperbloom driver i think but i have her as healer. my baizhu is currently using her set cause i like the burn reaction (w benny, who i still haven’t built properly (just a ton of er for burst stuff) and only use for pyro applications lmao) even though he’s supposed to be like. a sub dps. he and kuki probably work well together but i can’t hear that over the sound of my burst support childe who ran freeze with kaeya for an embarrassing amount of my early abyss runs. i still haven’t attempted floor twelve and unless i get my shit together i don’t think i will. strategy i hardly know her, i just go “unga bunga men pretty” and that got me to ar 57. i have yet to level my mona despite her being a great support (she does have a r5 dragons tales for when i want childe to look pretty against the pyro flower but that’s it) and my xingqiu still doesn’t have good artifacts. my team ‘comps’ are “dps dps.2 sub dps/applicator healer” and i have not strayed from this in my entire time playing. chongyun is objectively bad for my current playstyle but that has not stopped me from trying. i will get a freeze team with him xingqiu and maybe kaeya if it kills me