#but alas. i am tiny and weak.

[doctor-octiddius]

‼️🚨⚠️ TWINK GETTING PINNED TO A WALL ALERT ⚠️🚨‼️

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 10

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13.4k

(CW: SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v sex, Astarion deserves to feel so good he cries during sex so I let him)

Summary:

“I was so scared to love you at first,” Astarion says softly. He hardly knows what sentiment he is trying to convey other than his earth-shattering love for you, but the words are burning at his throat, forcing their way out before he can think. “I was so scared that you would make me weak and powerless. I know better now. In truth, you are the one who encourages me to be strong. You are the one who showed me the light after so long being trapped in the darkness.”

“If I am your sun, then you are my moon,” you say. “There is not one without the other. All my beauty, all my love, reflects and shines off you. You are the stars themselves, Astarion, shining and shimmering against the blackness of night. Always recognizable, always able to guide me home.”

He dips down to press a slow kiss to your lips so you do not keep saying beautiful words that make him want to cry. 

Read on ao3 here

There is no feeling in the world that could compare to the feeling of being wrapped in Astarion’s arms, even if you are still sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the desk Astarion just fucked you on. Your whole body is warm and relaxed and the moment could nearly be described as perfect.

Nearly, but not quite. 

Because when you had been baring your heart to Astarion earlier, there had been one teeny, tiny, miniscule, little detail that you had neglected to mention. And when he’s looking at you with soft, gooey eyes and you feel a guilty pit in your stomach, you realize that you probably need to be honest with him about everything. 

“Wait… I have something I need to show you, too.”

You push Astarion away from you so you can clamber off the desk. The cool air on your sweaty skin makes you shiver and you retrieve your chemise from the floor. It will take too long to redo your corset and you doubt Astarion will want to help you put it back on, so you settle for just the chemise. It’s not that long of a walk to your room and you’re sure Astarion will threaten to gouge out any servant’s eyes should someone happen to see you.

“Alas, I miss the sight of your perfect body already,” Astarion sighs, leaning against the desk as he watches you. 

Astarion’s pouting at you with big, sad eyes like you have just given him the worst news in the world and not as if you have simply covered yourself in a thin layer of cotton.

He’s already slipped his pants up back around his hips and shrugged his own shirt back on, though it’s loose and untucked. The flowing, open collar leaves the top of his chest on display and the combination of his pale skin coupled with the pink blush staining his cheeks leaves you breathless for a moment. No matter how long you look at him, study him, memorize his features, his beauty will never grow old. It will always continue to amaze you that this man exists and that he chose to love you.

“Come on, casanova,” you giggle, grabbing his hand to tug him in the direction of your room. 

Astarion digs his heels into the ground and tugs you back to him, anchoring you against the line of his body with an arm around your waist. He appears uncharacteristically shy as he looks down at your interlaced fingers and gently runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Does this mean you’re going to move back into our room now?” Astarion asks in a quiet voice. 

Our room. Your stomach flutters when you hear him call it that. 

Astarion rushes to explain when you don’t give him an immediate answer. “I mean, I know it’s not like we need to sleep or anything and you deserve to have your own space and I understand completely if you don’t want to yet. Or ever. I’m not-”

Astarion cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. 

“It’s your choice,” he says and for the first time it feels like he’s actually heard you. That he’s actually trying to do better. “But I will tell you that I miss holding you.”

“I miss holding you, too,” you confess to Astarion. “And thank you- for letting this be my decision, although I do believe our interests align on this issue. I’d love nothing more than to join you again in our room.”

You give Astarion’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“But I do like having my own space. Maybe we work on getting me a room like your study,” you offer up as an idea. So far, you had been rather neglectful of your duties as Lady Ancunin, so perhaps it was time to actually start attending to those now that your life was relatively stable. 

“Pick whatever room you’d like, and it’s yours,” Astarion says. “We can start buying new furniture as soon as tomorrow.”

“Maybe we could look at getting me a desk to match yours,” you tease Astarion, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him down closer to you. “Maybe next time you bend me over it instead.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Astarion chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You sigh happily into the kiss, content to spend the rest of your day making up for all the sweet kisses you had missed out on while you and Astarion were spending time apart. Astarion pulls away from you far too soon.

“You had something to show me,” he reminds you, nudging his nose against yours.

“Right.” You detangle yourself from his arms and tug on his hand again, leading him out of his study and down the hallway to your room.

“Do I get a hint?” Astarion asks as you walk.

“Um…” you trail off, trying to think of a good answer. You never meant to spring the gems on Astarion, but it seems like it will be so much easier to explain if he just sees them and hears your full explanation at the same time. “It’s nothing bad. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Ominous.”

When you enter your room, you lead Astarion over to your bookshelf before dropping his hand. He watches you curiously as you take a deep breath and pluck the book off the shelf. You can’t help but worry that Astarion is going to feel betrayed that you haven’t told him about the gems yet. 

“Please don’t be mad at me?” you ask.

“You’re not off to a strong start, my love.” Astarion teases, but you can tell your words have made him uneasy by the way his brow creases and his whole body tenses. He glances down at the cover of the book in your hands. “A Study of Balduran Flowers? I believe you will find that I don’t have nearly as many opinions about gardening as you do. Not unless it involves those pretty bouquets you used to bring me.” 

“It’s inside the book,” you explain.

“Well, yes, that’s normally how books work.”

You’re both deflecting. It was always easier to fall back into teasing rather than sit in uncomfortable moments. You could play this off as some silly joke and slide the book back onto your shelf and keep these gems for yourself forever. But you and Astarion were equals now and he deserved to know information that involved him. 

You steel yourself for what you need to do, but you want to get your explanation out before Astarion sees the gems and either grows distracted or angry. 

“It’s never really felt like the right time to bring this up. I tried back in- Well, I didn’t really try that hard. I didn’t want to play our hand to Raphael. And after, I’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

You open the book. The inside is hollowed out and inside the paper edges sit the three gemstones. Astarion’s mouth hangs open in shock for a moment before he’s pulling the book from your hands, picking out each gem to hold them up to the candlelight for inspection. 

He looks at you in disbelief. “You- how did you get these?”

“When I was young, my mother had a necklace,” you explain. “I used to always think the green gem was so pretty. She gave it to me right before she died and I was lucky that my father never bothered himself enough with me to care what trivial possessions I owned. It was sent here with the rest of my belongings.”

“Your mother…” Astarion looks stunned.

“She was from Baldur’s Gate, you know,” you say. It had never occurred to you how little you had shared about her with Astarion. “She was a direct descendent from one of the original families that founded the city.”

Astarion finally tears his gaze away from the gems. “How did you get the other two?”

“Oh, that was easy.” You grin. “You left me alone for a bit. Do you remember? You went over to the inn to tell Shadowheart to draw me a bath and I just… slipped them into my skirt when no one was looking. They seemed too important to just leave there."

And then, still staring intently at gems, Astarion is just walking out of the room with a single-minded focus. 

“Where are you going?” You call out after him but he doesn’t slow down or turn around to answer you. 

You huff, grabbing your dressing robe from the chair at your vanity and chasing after Astarion, frantically trying to pull the robe over your arms as you try to catch up to him. 

Eventually, he comes to stop at the library. Gale is sitting at a table in the center of the room, surrounded by books, and Astarion drops your hollowed out book with the gems on the desk next to Gale with a loud thump. 

“What’s-” Gale sputters at the intrusion before he sees the gems hidden inside the book. “The gems! But there’s three of them? How?”

And Astarion just starts laughing- a full body, side-splitting laugh that has him wheezing and holding onto the table to support himself. Gale just looks at Astarion as if he’s lost his mind. 

“The whole time.” Astarion finally manages to choke out in between laughs. “She had the last gem this whole time.”

Gale’s mouth hangs open in shock as his attention turns to you. He spends another moment looking utterly perplexed before a wide smile fills his face and he starts chuckling, too. 

“Oh, that’s just too good,” Gale says. “I couldn’t have written that better myself.”

With two grown men giggling like children in front of you, you can’t help but succumb to the infectious mood, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, as well.

“If you would have just told me,” you wheeze out at Astarion, which sets all of you off laughing again. 

Gale bangs his fist down on the table while he tries to catch his breath in between fits of laughter and your sides are aching and you’re just so relieved that this weight has been lifted off your shoulders and that Astarion isn’t upset with you. 

It takes minutes for the laughter to finally die down. You think you catch Astarion wiping tears away from his eyes. 

“So, all three gems,” Gale says. He looks a bit awestruck as he examines each gemstones. “How did you have one?”

And as Gale looks up at you for an explanation, no longer distracted by the shiny gemstones or Astarion’s manic laughter, his eyes widen and his face turns bright red when he finally recognizes you are only dressed in your chemise and dressing robe. Gale awkwardly clears his throat and his eyes quickly dart back down to the gems and you pull the robe tighter around yourself. 

Astarion just shoots you a smirk and it occurs to you how disheveled you both look. Astarion’s shirt is hanging open and exposing half his chest. His normally meticulously styled hair is messy from where your hands had held tightly onto his curls as he’d eaten you out like you were his last meal. And you’re sure your own hair is a mess and wait- is that a bit of leftover blood that you feel drying on your chin?

It’s all rather damning evidence that the two of you had just had sex. Which, you had, but Gale didn’t need to know that. 

With your arms crossed tightly over your chest and Astarion staring at you with a smug grin, you quickly explain your mother’s necklace to Gale.

“Makes sense,” Gale hums, sliding the pair of glasses he is wearing down his nose as he closely inspects each gem. “When the gems were originally taken from the crown and split up, I believe they were given to three of the founding families of Baldur’s Gate as a safety precaution. The history behind the gem was probably lost with time as it was passed down, or as a strategic move so that people like Raphael would have a more difficult time finding them. I believe that’s how Cazador had one in his possession, as well, as heir to the Szarr family. The other was sold and stolen, several times over before we found it with Gortash.”

You recognize Gortash’s name. As a member of nobility, you were not completely unaware of the gossip coming from society in Baldur’s Gate. You had heard whispers of the man fighting to make a name for himself and about his subsequent untimely death.

“Ugh, Gortash,” Astarion groans, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “I hated him. He was too full of himself.”

You and Gale shoot each other little snickers because it’s a bit ridiculous to hear Astarion describe someone else as ‘too full of themselves.’ Pot, kettle, and all that. 

And Gale does not seem to be done having fun at Astarion’s expense.

“So, the two of you made up?” Gale asks.

Your face feels hot, but Astarion preens. 

“Yes, we did,” he says. “Though I believe we have a more pressing issue at hand. We have all three gems. Now the question is- what can we do with them?” 

An unfamiliar, hungry gleam has entered Astarion’s eye. You thought you had seen all types of hunger from Astarion, but this look is different. This is something far crueler. 

“I’d urge caution,” Gale says, his voice slow and calm, as if he is trying to talk Astarion from jumping off a ledge. “This is a powerful relic. It is not to be trifled with.”

Astarion ignores Gale’s warning, laser focused on an idea. “There was a ritual that Cazador was attempting before Raphael killed him. It was a sacrifice of spawn to Mephisopheles in order to become a higher being- the vampire ascendent. He would no longer be bound by the restrictions of a vampire- it would have allowed him to taste, to walk in the sun.” Astarion’s voice grows cold and unrecognizable. “It would have granted him unfathomable power.

“Why are you bringing this up?” You ask, weary. 

“What if Mephistopheles wants these gems to recreate the crown himself?” Astarion asks, like this is the logical conclusion that anyone would have drawn from his explanation. 

And you can’t lie, a part of you is tempted by the idea of this ritual. Of being able to see the light of day again and no longer being trapped in an eternal night. Of not constantly being burdened by this hunger and this incessant hyper-awareness of everyone’s blood rushing through their veins. 

But in your time married to Astarion, you knew intimately when Astarion was purposefully withholding details. There was no way that this level of power was granted without paying a price.

And you know Astarion. He looks out for himself, first and foremost. To a lesser extent, Astarion also looks out for you, though whether his actions are motivated by true love or his own selfish desire to stay in your good graces, you will never know. 

While in less dire circumstances, his disregard for consequences could be tolerated, the gleam in his eye betrays his hunger. You had hoped that he learned his lesson about dealing with devils, but evidently the power of ascension was too appealing to him. 

“What was the sacrifice?” You ask quietly.

“The souls of 7,007 vampires and spawn.” Astarion hurriedly answers without turning to look at you, as if the death of thousands of people was a mere pittance. “Or, well, 7,008 if you include the person performing the ritual since they would lose their soul, as well. But I don’t know if we would have to do that part since we already have something Mephistopheles wants.”

You’re mildly relieved that Astarion didn’t actually just propose murdering 7,000 people. 

Another question nags at you. “Would you still lose your soul?”

“Not just me, darling. We.” Astarion finally turns to you, cupping your face in his palms. “The vampire ascendants. King and Queen.”

You frown. “It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go around making deals with devils again.”

“This isn’t a deal, it’s a transaction,” Astarion says, voice hard and unimpressed. You don’t really understand the difference. He seems disappointed in your lack of an awed reaction at his idea. “It’s something given, something gained and we all part ways at the end with no contracts lingering over our heads.” 

“You don’t even know if it will work,” you say, treading lightly. Astarion seems fragile and a bit manic right now and you had to be careful not to push him into becoming defensive. You bring your hand up to wrap around his own, where he’s still cupping your face.

“But we can try,” Astarion practically begs you.

Why was he so insistent upon this idea? Surely, this couldn’t all just be about gaining power.  

“Maybe think about it a while longer. I’ll do some research,” Gale implores. 

“Fine,” Astarion drops his hand from your face. “I’ll be in my study. Come find me when you realize ascension is our best option.” 

You watch as Astarion storms off in a huff.

“I’ll talk to him once he’s calmed down,” you reassure Gale.

“You don’t want to do the ritual, right?” Gale asks you uneasily.

“No.” You laugh. “That whole thing sounds like a recipe for disaster. But we need to let Astarion realize that for himself. He gets argumentative and defensive when anyone tells him that he’s wrong.”

“So do you,” Gale points out.

“That’s why he and I work well together. I’m the only person more stubborn than he is.”

When you make your way to Astarion’s study, you find him pacing and muttering to himself, no doubt attempting to concoct the perfect, elaborate argument that will point out every flaw in the opposition’s argument and convince everyone that Astarion is right. 

He stops pacing when he sees you. 

“We have an ace up our sleeve and Gale isn’t letting us play our hand. He’s squandering this once in a lifetime opportunity for us,” Astarion gruffly complains.

“My love, he’s not squandering it,” you say, approaching Astarion and calmly running your hand soothingly down the length of his back. He’s too worked up right now, you’re not sure he will listen to you. “Gale is simply reminding us that we shouldn’t rush into a decision without thinking through all the potential consequences.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Oh, not you, too! Look, you two can sit in your moral superiority and accuse me of being power-hungry, but I am the one taking actionable steps to ensure our safety.”

“That’s not- Look, Astarion, you proposed one idea. Sometimes, the first idea is the best idea and sometimes, it isn’t. I want us to be thorough before we throw away such a powerful bargaining chip.”

You can feel the muscles in Astarion’s back relaxing when he realizes that you are not trying to argue with him. 

“You’ll come to see my side of things in time,” Astarion turns away from you as if the matter has been settled. 

“You do realize that you’re making choices without asking me what I’m thinking again, star,” you say, voice flat. 

Astarion’s whole body tenses. “But I haven’t actually made the choice yet.”

“No, but you’ve already made up your mind,” you tell him. “And you���re acting like you know what’s best for me better than I do. 

“That’s- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me,” Astarion stumbles over his words, rushing to apologize. His hand comes up to rest on your cheek. You are sure this is him seeking to ground himself, fighting to alleviate the panic that he has already committed a grave mistake so soon after the two of you had reunited. 

“I’m not angry.” You dip your head to press a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist. “We’re having a discussion. That’s what married couples do.”

Astarion nods and you catch the relieved sigh he releases. Evidently, there were still some insecurities you needed to reassure Astarion about if he was still concerned that you would flee at the first sign of an argument. 

“Can I ask why you seem so intent on using the gems for this purpose?” you ask him softly.

His thumb stokes along your cheekbone and he looks at you with wide, soft eyes.

“For us, little flower.” 

And then, because Astarion knows you better than anyone and knows exactly what arguments will pull at your heartstrings, he asks, “Don’t you miss the sunlight? Don’t you miss the gardens?”

Damn it all if that doesn’t give you pause for a moment. Because you do miss the sunlight. Desperately. When you had first been turned into a vampire, there was still snow on the ground and now, gentle summer breezes were beginning to roll in during the day. You had already missed the entire spring. You had missed stretching out in the sunlight in the gardens and reading, with Tara curled up next you and beautiful blooming flowers surrounding you. 

“Just think, my love, you could walk in the sun again. You wouldn’t be limited by your bloodlust. We’d be free. I’d-” Astarion cuts himself off, a slip of the tongue. “We’d finally be safe.”

So, there it is. That’s what he was so worried about. Safety. Freedom. 

Astarion has not had power over himself in a very long time and he believes that if he’s given this power, no one can ever hurt him again. 

It’s all about fear. It was always about fear. Fear of being too weak and becoming enslaved again, fear that he will never be able to escape from Cazador’s shadow, fear of not being worth more than what he can offer others.

He’s wrong, of course, but you can’t just tell him that. 

“I’m a bit worried about the whole maybe having to sell my soul thing,” you say, instead, bringing up one of your many valid concerns while also trying to infuse a tiny bit of humor into the situation. You knew Astarion did better in that space, that he didn't shut down quite so quickly. 

“I’ve done it before.” Astarion gives you an arrogant smirk. “It worked out all right in the end for me.”

“Because we killed Raphael. And he wasn’t even a full archdevil like his father,” you point out. “But a soul is not something you can carelessly toss aside. It’s a part of you.” You reach out, letting your fingers slip beneath the open collar of his loose shirt and trace over where his undead heart sits inside his chest. You look up at him under your lashes. “And I love you. All of you. I don’t want you to change.”

“All of me?” Astarion asks, a bit incredulous. 

“Even the parts of you that you don’t love. Though there aren’t many,” you tease, before you go back to being genuine. “I love that in spite of everything that has happened to you, you still love with the full force of your heart.”

“I don’t have a heart,” Astarion says, with a cheeky little grin.

You roll your eyes. “Metaphorical heart. Now, stop interrupting if you want me to keep saying sweet things to you.”

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Let’s see- what else do I love about you? Well, you’re certainly easy on the eyes,” you say and Astarion laughs. “And you’re surprisingly funny for someone who used to study law. You have me smiling or laughing at just about everything you say. And you’re cunning and shrewd, you don’t let people take advantage of you or get away with anything. And you’re so strong. You have lived through the worst tortures anyone could imagine and you survived. You were the one that came out of that situation victorious and fought to make a new life for yourself.”

With that, Astarion melts into your arms, tucking his face in the curve of your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

“But mostly, I love your hair,” you say with a grin, because you can’t resist. 

“Thank you,” Astarion says, but his voice cracks a bit, letting you know how much your little speech truly impacted him. “People don’t compliment me on my hair nearly as often as they should.”

You hug Astarion tighter. “Sounds like a job for your wife.”

You let Astarion sit in that comfort for as long as he needs, keeping your arms wrapped so, so, so tight around one another. Eventually, you turn your head a bit, whispering into his soft hair. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But that’s okay. We shouldn’t let ourselves be ruled by our fear.”

 “You’re right, little flower.” Astarion finally pulls his face out of your neck to look at you, pushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I have been a slave to this fear for too long. It’s time to stop letting it control me.”

You smile at him. “So, no ritual? We’ll find something better to do with the gems?”

He sighs. “You’ve managed to convince me. No ascension.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Astarion threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you toward him for a kiss. 

“Besides,” you kiss along his neck to whisper in his ear. “If power is what you want, there are much easier ways to get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobles are idiots. They’re practically begging for someone to lead them. And really,” you murmur, ghosting your lips over Astarion’s. “Who is better suited for the job than us? They can come and go. We’ll remain.”

Astarion groans. “There aren’t enough words for how deeply I love you.” 

He closes the distance and kisses you. 

—----------------

The nightmare happens when you least expect it. You and Astarion were lying in bed together and you were so comfortable and relaxed that before you noticed, you had just… drifted off to sleep. 

Suddenly Raphael’s cold, dead stare bores into you. His empty eyes are underlined by the ragged laceration where his throat had been slit. The congealed blood soaks the devil’s shirt and the air reeks of eternal, rotting damnation. Even in death, his face emotes- twisted in surprise, his mouth stretched in a silent scream.

But it’s the eyes. It’s always the eyes that rip the breath from your lungs and inject a horrible sense of dread into your veins. 

You don’t jolt yourself out of it or wake up screaming. It’s not like one of Astarion’s disorienting nightmares which leave him unable to tell the difference between memory and reality. There’s just the devil’s dead face and then suddenly, you’re blinking awake. You stare at the pale scars on Astarion’s back, trembling. The image of Raphael weighs too heavily in your mind.

You can tell by the sound of Astarion’s rhythmic breathing that he’s still asleep. Your arm is still slung over his waist and his fingers are still loosely entangled with yours. 

Good, let him sleep peacefully for once, you think.

The last thing you want to do is disturb him, but you need to do something. You can’t just let your mind sit in this image forever or it might wind up getting stuck there. Wrapping your arm tighter around Astarion’s midsection, you rest your forehead against his back, letting yourself sniffle as quiet tears leak from your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Astarion asks almost immediately, as if he has some supernatural ability to sense your distress. His voice is still soft and low with sleep as he turns around to gently brush away your tears.

“Raphael,” you choke out.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Astarion comforts you, pulling you tight against his chest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. His fingers run soothingly through your hair. “He’s dead. I promise you that he’s dead. We’re safe. He can never hurt either of us again.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to Astarion. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

It felt like an intrusion- after all the chaos of the last few months, life had finally fallen into a rhythm again. You couldn’t have nightmares if you weren’t sleeping and now, there was always so much to do. Especially since Astarion had actually started performing the duties as Lord Ancunin that he had been neglecting while he was searching for the gem. 

No, now sleep was saved for the quiet moments like this, where you and Astarion were just so comfortable and relaxed that your eyes couldn’t help but shut.

Quiet moments that were ruined by your inability to just get over Raphael.

“Never apologize for waking me,” Astarion says. You open your mouth to point out that he always apologizes when he wakes you, but Astarion shushes you before you can speak. “That’s rather hypocritical coming from me, I know.”

“How do you get past it? Because the dreams seemingly come to me at random and I fear what I might see every time I try to sleep.”

“Baths… reading… writing… talking to someone…” Astarion slowly lists, as the answers come to him. “If you can get your mind out of the hole it’s dug itself into with a good distraction, I think you’ll find that the images aren’t quite so visceral when they come back to you later. I mean- it’s usually still bad, but it feels further away. The emotions feel removed.”

Nightmares were one of Astarion’s area of expertise, so you should probably listen to him. You choose to try to distract yourself while talking. 

“Would you ever want to be mortal again?” you ask Astarion, attempting to focus on tracing along the veins inside his wrist rather than the image of Raphael’s lifeless stare in your mind. 

It was a question which had been plaguing you a lot lately as Gale researched a way to use the gems to help you and Astarion walk in the sun again. The gems were tied to the magic of the gods, so you all agreed it only seemed natural that they should offer some solution to your predicament. 

But, as Gale worked and worked and worked and still came up with nothing, there was a part of you that was wondering why you didn’t just cut your losses and search for a cure to your vampirism as a whole. 

“Would you?” Astarion deflects by turning the question back on you. “I’d do anything that would make you happy, my love.”

You frown. “That’s not what I asked, star. I don’t want to know if you’d just go along with my desires. I want to know what you want.”

And Astarion looks confused, like he has never been asked to think about or plan for a future, like the concept is so foreign to him that he doesn’t even know where to begin. Astarion had been trapped in survival mode for so long, he didn’t know how to look further than a few days in front of him. Even marrying you had been an unplanned, spur of the moment idea. 

“You know what?” He sounds almost in disbelief of his own answer. “I don’t think I would want to be mortal again. I like being better than everybody- stronger, sharper, more powerful. And sure, some of the limitations can be a nuisance, but it’s not enough for me to want to throw away all the benefits.”

“And that’s not because of fear?” you check with him, studying his face. 

He shrugs. “Maybe part of it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. I just know that being a vampire is what feels right for me. I’m not the same man I was before. I like the man I am now, the man you’ve helped me become. I don’t want to do anything to change that.”

The man you’ve helped me become.

Oh, he was so sweet.

“Would you want to be human again?” Astarion asks you again. “I know that this transition has been… less than ideal for you.”

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” you ponder aloud. It would be the easy solution, but not the solution you truly desire. “But no. Even before I died, I knew that I would want this. I just… my death was a bit more traumatic than I hoped.”

Astarion must sense that you are beginning to stew in hazy memories of that unfortunate moment, growing dangerously close to those images of Raphael’s dead stare. Astarion distracts you again. “You know what my first thought was when you reawoke?”

You shake your head and Astarion grins, shifting his weight on top of you. His forearms frame either side of your head and he runs his nose along the artery in your throat that he always used to adore so much, back when you were alive.

“I thought you looked ravishing. I wanted nothing more than to be your first victim.” Astarion drags his fangs gently along the skin of your throat as he speaks in a low, rasping voice. “It drove me half mad to see you like that. And right away, you knew what to do. Pure instinct, no hesitation. Not all vampires are gifted with that capability. But you were made for this. My perfect vampire bride.”

Astarion bites lightly at your skin to accentuate his point and you moan. 

“You’re a good distraction,” you say, a bit breathless. 

“The best distraction.” 

Astarion’s hand snakes down, beginning to drag the hem of your dress further up your leg. You can feel his cock hardening where it rubs against your hip.

Insatiable, your husband. 

“We don’t need to rush, dear,” Astarion reminds you, though you catch the dual meaning in his words. You do not need to rush for answers. And he will not rush when he fucks you. He will take his time, enjoying every delicious moment of pleasure he can wring from your body. His lips brush along your jaw, back toward your mouth. “We’ll find the answers when they come to us.” 

You sigh. “I know, but I was just hoping they would come to us before all the flowers start dying. Halsin said the sunflowers are especially beautiful this year and they just aren’t the same at night.”

“It’s too bad we can’t just trade the gems to walk in the sunlight again. Two birds with one stone. Or, well, three stones. So, six birds?” Astarion jokes.

But that would be too easy, right?

… Right?

“You’re a genius!” You cry out and pull Astarion’s head down to press a big, wet kiss on his forehead. 

“What did I-” Astarion starts to ask before you watch the idea form in his own mind in real time. “It can’t be that easy, can it?”

“What if it is?” You ask, reinvigorated. “What if we don’t become mortal again or go through with that frankly insane Ascension ritual idea, but we just ask Mephistopheles to maybe…” 

“We change the rules!” Astarion finishes your thought with an excited cry. “We decide which parts of being a vampire we hate the most and we just… get rid of those parts.”

You both sit up in the bed, facing each other, giddy with the new idea.

“Okay, so, sunlight,” you say, attempting to start forming your list of requests. Though, Astarion probably has a better idea about which parts of being a vampire were the most insufferable after his centuries living as one. “And what else?”

Astarion thinks for a minute. 

“It’d be nice to at least be able to taste food again. We don’t even need it to sustain us or anything but just… not have everything taste like piss and vinegar.” His nose wrinkles in disgust. 

“That’s a good one,” you say when he looks at you for confirmation. 

“And mirrors. I know we have our portraits, but I’d like to be able to see myself again,” Astarion adds in a quiet voice, like he’s almost embarrassed at the admission. 

“So, sunlight, food, and reflections,” you count them all on your fingers. “That feels like a good list. Three gems, three requests. It seems fair.”

“Oh, Gale’s going to be devastated that we beat him to an answer,” Astarion teases and you can tell how genuinely gleeful he is at the idea of holding this over Gale’s head. 

You laugh and your dream about Raphael fades like a distant memory. For the first time in weeks, you let yourself have a little hope that together, the two of you might figure this out. 

—-----------------

“Stop pacing, it’s making me nervous,” you tell Astarion.

He just keeps walking along the patch of sand in front of you- back and forth, back and forth, back and forth- on a loop. It was almost making you dizzy.

“Sorry,” Astarion comes to sit on the rock beside you but he starts fidgeting nervously almost immediately. You hold out your hand for him and he grabs it greedily, tracing the lines in your hands over and over and over again just to give him something to focus on other than his nerves.

The chilly water brushes over your toes as the gentle sea waves roll in and out. You continue watching Gale as he crouches in the sand, drawing the summoning circle with an impressive stick he had found along the shore.

Apparently, the summoning circle was an intricate ritual which required all of Gale’s focus. It doesn’t really seem that hard. It kind of just looks like he’s playing in the sand. But whatever, you didn’t really want Mephistopheles breaking free and raining hellfire upon you, so you were choosing to listen to Gale and stay out of his way so he could concentrate.

Shadowheart holds up a lantern for Gale so that he can double check his work with the pattern in his book and she keeps shooting you annoyed looks that have you giggling. She was already huffy enough about the fact that you made her come out at night to participate in the summoning, but then you had the audacity to not even give her something exciting to do?

You and Astarion had actually dragged everyone out here, just in case. Best case scenario, this whole trade goes according to plan and everything works out perfectly. Worst case scenario… Well, you really didn’t want to fight another devil without some backup. 

Everyone else is scattered around the rest of the beach. You faintly hear Karlach and Wyll laughing in the distance. They had all been giving you and Astarion your space, as if they could sense how nervous you both were. And also possibly because Astarion had been pacing all afternoon as if with enough walking, he might just be able to wear down the surface of the earth and appear in the hells, himself. 

When you had first approached Gale with the idea of using the gems to rewrite the rules of vampirism, you knew immediately that you would need to summon Mephistopheles to perform the trade. The cottage by the sea had been suggested as an ideal location due to its remote landscape. And really, no one had been too excited about the idea of inviting a powerful archdevil inside the very opulent, very flammable Ancunin manor.

“You ready?” Gale interrupts your quiet reflection and Astarion’s nervous fidgeting. “I triple checked the summoning circle. Not like it was necessary. I had it right on the first go, of course, but I am nothing if not thorough.”

Astarion drops your hand and jumps up almost immediately. You stand up, as well, walking over toward Gale and the circle.

“You both remember the plan?” Gale asks.

“Yes, sir,” you salute him. You know Astarion is probably giggling behind you. 

“That’s- whatever,” Gale sighs. “If the two of you die now, it will be because you’re both annoying.”

You grin.

Gale speaks in the weird, chanting language that you had heard from Raphael and the circle appears to glow before a giant, winged man is materializing before you. The air reeks of sulfur and rotten eggs.

Mephistopheles looks down upon you. He shares an eerie similarity to Raphael, though his features are distinctly less human- his horns are bigger, his wingspan is wider, his eyes are black, burning holes. 

“Weak, pathetic mortals,” Mephistopheles growls and his voice sounds deep and ancient. “What do you want?”

“It’s not about us. We have something you want.” Astarion purrs as he saunters closer to the circle. It had been so long since you’d seen this persona, you had forgotten how charming he could truly be. “All we expect in return is a small finder’s fee.”

Mephistopheles laughs and it crackles like fire. “What could you possibly have that I would want besides your souls?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you pull one of the gems from the pocket in your skirt, laying it flat in your palm as you show it off to Mephistopheles. “Doesn’t everyone like pretty gems?”

You don’t miss the way Mephistopheles eyes blaze in recognition when he catches sight of the gem.

“One gem?” He spits out at you, trying to feign indifference. “That’s nothing.”

“Who said we only have one?” You tilt your head, passing the first gem off to Astarion as you pull the other two from your skirt.

Mephistopheles snarls at you but he’s practically drooling over the gems as he eyes them possessively. “And what stops me from simply killing you where you stand and taking them?”

“The circle?” Astarion flashes his gaze down to the intricate patterns at the devil’s feet. The way Astarion’s smiling is all dark and corrupt. Oh, you like watching him like this, especially if you know he’s on your side. “It was made by the foremost scholar in arcane arts and I can assure you, his work is correct.”

It’s weird to hear Astarion complimenting Gale. You’ll have to tease Astarion about that later. 

Mephistopheles pushes up against the edges of the summoning circle and is stopped by the invisible walls trapping him inside. He looks annoyed.

“So,” he says. “You have the Netherstones and you’re willing to give them to me. What could you possibly want in return? Immortality? Wealth? Power?” 

Astarion asks innocently, “You don’t believe we’re doing this out of the goodness of our undead hearts?”

Mephistopheles studies the both of you for a moment before he barks out another laugh. “Two vampires. Let me guess. You want to ascend.” He says the word like it’s magical, like it’s the solution to all your problems (you know it is not, even if Astarion might still partially believe it is). “You should know that the Ascension ritual is very specific. I’m not going to let you both ascend for just a couple of measly gems.”

It’s funny to hear him call them ‘measly gems’ when you know how desperately he wants them- he had been chasing after them for hundreds of years, ever since they were stolen away from him by the families who originally founded Baldur’s Gate. 

“We don’t want to ascend,” Astarion answers. The air of authority surrounding him nearly knocks you off your feet. You had gotten so used to soft, goofy Astarion that for a moment, you had forgotten how commanding, how chilling and utterly vampiric, he could truly be.

“Three requests from us. Three gems for you,” you say. “An even trade.”

Mephitsopheles looks less than impressed, as if he is going to leave before even hearing out your offer. And for a second, you lose hope. But then his gaze catches on the gems again. 

“What are the requests?” He asks, through gritted teeth, as if this whole affair is beneath him.

Astarion clears his throat, reciting the carefully practiced requests. The two of you had spent a lot of time ensuring that the archdevil could not trick you, that the wording could not be twisted into something unrecognizable. Astarion’s experience with contracts had been invaluable. “First, we want the ability to walk in the sun without damage, the same as we did before our turning. Second, we want the ability to taste food in the same way we had before our turning. And lastly, we would like the vampiric effects in regards to mirrors removed. We should be able to see our true reflection in any reflective surface.” 

Mephistopheles laughs again. “You’re asking for too much.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you attempt to not betray your very acute worry that Mephistopheles was going to turn down the deal completely. “Those are our conditions if you want the gems.”

“Fine. Gems first,” Mephistopheles holds out his giant hand expectantly.

“Uh uh uh,” Astarion tuts in disapproval and both you and Mephistopheles stare at Astarion in surprise. Astarion- arrogant, asshole Astarion- had the audacity to condescend a devil. You hate the fact that there’s a sweet heat of arousal pooling low in your stomach as you watch him. 

“That’s not fair, devil,” Astarion continues. “One gem for each ability. That seems more than reasonable of us, doesn’t it?”

Mephistopheles growls in anger. “Fine.”

You toss the first gem into the summoning circle and watch as Mephistopheles has to dig around in the sand to pick it up. That sight shouldn’t give you nearly as much twisted satisfaction as it does, but there’s something funny about seeing a supposedly all-powerful being drop to his knees in weakness for a silly gemstone.

Mephistopheles touches the gem and it lights up, disappearing back to the hells for him to collect later. He rises to his feet again and speaks in the weird chanting language, holding his hands out to you and Astarion. There’s a tingling in your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Astarion awkwardly moving his tongue around in his mouth.

“There,” Mephistopheles says. “You can taste again. Now, my second gem.”

You toss the second gem and Mephistopheles catches it this time. He repeats the same process- gem disappearing, him chanting and waving his hands. 

“That granted you back your reflections. Now, your precious sunlight for the final gem.”

Astarion hesitates for just a second, as if he’s reluctant to pass over this final piece of power, before he tosses the gem to Mephistopheles.

This time, the chant seems to take longer and when Mephistopheles holds out his hands to Astarion, you watch as Astarion’s skin seems to glow for a moment.  

At least it seemed like everything was working. Mephistopheles repeats the spell for you and you are momentarily surrounded by a painful, searing heat. When you emerge from your cocoon of sunlight, Mephistopheles has melted back into the earth. The sand is glassy where Gale had carved the symbols earlier. 

“We did it,” you cry out, a gleeful smile on your face. 

“We did,” Astarion says. He laughs in disbelief before pulling you into his arms, burying his face into your hair.

Waiting for the sun to rise is the longest hour of your life. 

The rest of the group had departed from the beach after the deal was finished, content to let you and Astarion enjoy your moment in private. The two of you spread out a blanket on a large rock on the shoreline. Your shoulder presses against Astarion’s as you sit, the sea-breeze dancing against your skin. 

And there, on the horizon, the sun crests, and the dark of night gives way to the pale light of dawn. 

—------------

Astarion watches the sun rise with a lump in his throat, dangerously close to crying. The only thing that holds him back is that he knows the tears would spoil the beautiful view in front of him. He wants this memory to be crisp in his mind forever.

Not that it really matters, he supposes. Now, he could spend every day for the rest of eternity watching the sun rise if he wanted to. 

And with you by his side? Well, there’s really not much more Astarion could ask for. 

Astarion had been apprehensive at first. When the first rays had touched his skin, he had flinched. It was an instinctual reaction after centuries relegated to the darkness. But when his skin didn’t light up in flames, when he didn’t smell the horrible odor of burning flesh, he had to remind himself that this moment was real. 

He didn’t need to be afraid any longer.

No, there was only the lovely warmth of the sun and the line of your body pressed comfortably against Astarion’s side. Eventually, he brings his arm up to wrap around you, tucking you further into him. You lean your head against his shoulder and he rests his head on top of yours as the two of you continue watching the brilliant orange and reds on the horizon fade into a sunny, pale blue sky. 

Astarion cannot remember a time that he has ever been happier.

Maybe he got close the night that the two of you repeated your wedding vows on the floor of your bedroom, but that moment had still been covered in the darkness of night. The light of a fire is nothing compared to the full force of the blazing sun. 

And said sun continues to rise, completely unaware of this momentous occasion, as you and Astarion sit together in silence. 

Your soft voice shocks Astarion out of his contemplative silence. “You’re doing good, right?” 

Astarion’s arm drops from around your shoulders as you move away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Astarion can feel you studying his profile, likely checking for any signs of sadness or uncertainty. 

You will find none, of course. 

Astarion simply leans back on his palms and lets his eyes fall shut, basking in the feeling of the sun upon his skin.

“Astarion.” You press your knee into the side of Astarion’s leg, trying to get his attention. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that this is the happiest I’ve ever been,” Astarion confesses. “I never let myself dream of a moment like this and it still feels better than I could have possibly imagined.” 

He cannot hide the vulnerable shake in his voice. Nor does he feel the need to. There is no need to perform. Not around you. 

When Astarion opens his eyes, the way that you are smiling at him rivals the radiance of the sun itself. There’s a phantom fluttering in Astarion’s chest. His heart may not beat, but around you it suddenly feels as if it is fighting to come back to life.

You- his wife, his equal- with your strong will and your sarcasm and your compulsive need to have the final word.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Astarion bumps your shoulder.

“Dunno, just happy.” You hurriedly reach out to wipe away the tears that have begun to collect on your lashes.  “That’s usually why people smile.”

Astarion huffs out a breath of laughter. 

He doesn’t mention that for centuries, his smile was nothing more than a strategic ploy used to disarm and charm others. That was the past. It was time to let go of those memories. He deserves to rewrite them with moments like this- moments of pure happiness, moments where he knows that if he tries to speak, he will surely weep with joy. 

“Come on,” you say, turning your back on the sun to face Astarion. “Let me get a good look at you.”

And it seems silly that you would choose to look at him over this beautiful sunrise, but Astarion won’t complain. It feels wonderful to be seen by someone. To be finally, truly seen by someone whose only motivations to look at him are love and appreciation. 

Astarion even shows off for you a bit, puffing out his chest a bit and shaking his head as if to move his hair out of his face even though the rather embarrassing amount of pomade he requires to tame his unruly curls ensured that his perfectly coiffed hair hardly moved with the motion. 

He had perfected this hairstyle long before he was turned. Even now that he could see his reflection again, he could still do his hair blindfolded, with one hand tied behind his back.

Astarion watches as your eyes trace along his face, down the column of his throat, over his chest and shoulders, down the line of his arms that he casually reclines back upon. 

He had already shrugged his jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows before the two of you sat down. And Astarion fancies himself a bit of an expert on you. He knows you adore his forearms. He flexes them and is rewarded with your throat swallowing hungrily. 

“Well, how do I look?” Astarion smirks. “It’s no fun if you don’t tell me how beautiful I am.”

One of your hands reaches out to run along the inside of his wrist.

“The sun makes your skin practically glow.” You bring your gaze back up to his face. “And your hair!” you say with glee, reaching out to touch it. “It’s so much whiter in the sun! You’ve nearly blinded me with how handsome you are.” 

You playfully shield your eyes.

“I do apologize,” Astarion pulls your hand away from your face and plants a tender kiss on the inside of your palm. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

You laugh and Astarion’s chest blooms with warmth. 

“And what else?” Astarion breathlessly begs you to continue. 

Who needs a mirror when he has you sitting in front of him, outlined against the backdrop of a sunny day, with beautiful words of praise dripping from your tongue, sweet as honey.

“And these,” you run the pad of your thumb along the lines around Astarion’s mouth. “These are lovely.”

Astarion holds your hand against his cheek and leans into your touch. 

“You know, I used to hate my smile lines,” he shyly admits to you. Your smoldering red eyes carefully study the way his muscles move under your thumb as he talks. “I mean, I couldn’t actually see them, but I had people point them out over the years and I always hated it. Before I was a spawn, I had a happy life and that happiness etched itself upon my face. And then after I was turned, happiness was nothing more than an act I put on to lure people back to Cazador. I had almost forgotten what a true smile felt like before I met you.”

“I’m selfish. Nowadays, you give them to me so readily and yet, I still crave more,” you say. “Though I hope you never feel the need to smile for my sake.”

“No,” Astarion assures you, tilting his head to press another quick kiss to the inside of your palm. “This is as real as it gets.”

The look of pure adoration on your face leaves Astarion speechless for a moment. 

“One more compliment?” Astarion requests and you roll your eyes affectionately.

“And your eyes,” you say dreamily, brushing your fingers along the ridge of Astarion’s cheekbone. “They sparkle in the sunlight like rubies.”

“You stole my line,” Astarion pouts.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you tease. “I would have never dreamed of saying something so cheesy before I met you.”

“It’s not about the quality of the line, it’s about the delivery,” Astarion says. “Watch and learn, my dear.” 

Astarion clears his throat and looks up at you from under his pale lashes. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth. “My dearest heart, the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight puts even the most expensive of rubies to shame.”

He watches as your lashes flutter and you bite on your lower lip in an attempt to fight yourself from physically swooning. There’s a proud thrum in his chest that his words are causing you to react so viscerally.

“I already knew you were beautiful in the sun, but this,” Astarion continues, leaning forward and planting his hands on either side of your hips, caging your body between his arms. His eyes dart down to your lips before he drags them back up to your hungry red eyes. “This is better than I could have ever imagined. Far better than watching you in the gardens while I was locked away in my tower.”

“Oh, my poor damsel in distress. It’s a good thing I saved you,” you say in a playfully mocking tone, reaching out to curl one of your arms around Astarion’s neck. 

Astarion knows that your words are trying to guide him into offering you a kiss as a form of repayment and although he wants nothing more than to press his lips against yours, your words have struck a chord with him.

Astarion already feels so vulnerable, so seen in the sunlight- what more is ripping his heart out of his chest and placing it in your hands? He trusts you with it completely. 

“You did save me,” Astarion’s voice is serious and he watches your eyes soften and turn gooey. “I know you’re joking but you did. From myself, from Raphael, from a life in the darkness. You have shown me love and kindness when I believed they were all but gone from the world.”

“You saved me, too, you know.” Your fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Saved me from that horrible man that my father was trying to sell me off to. Saved me from a loveless, unhappy life. You have given me everything I could have ever wished for.”

And how wonderful it is, Astarion thinks, to have found someone who has given him hope for a future again. To know that he, in turn, stole a future for you that would be far happier than what you were originally destined for. 

He steals a quick kiss before he pulls away from you, standing up to pry off his boots. 

The water glistens in the sunlight and Astarion is struck by a memory of swimming in the sea when he was so much younger, when his family used to come to the cottage over summers and he would spend his days swimming with another boy his age. They would lay out on the rocks on the shoreline, swapping soft kisses as the sun dried their skin. 

And now, Astarion has the ability to do that again, to live like that again. To exist in that same carelessness as his youth and share that moment with the person he loves. 

“What are you doing?” you ask as he pries off his other boot.

“Going for a swim,” Astarion answers, pulling his shirt over his head. He shoots you a flirty smile, trying to tempt you. “Care to join me?”

You nod eagerly and Astarion stops pulling off his own clothes, entranced at the sight of you lifting up your skirt to roll a stocking down your leg. It faintly registers in his mind that you are putting on a show for him, taking your time to bare the skin of your calf inch by painstaking inch. 

It’s truly an award-worthy performance. 

Astarion’s mouth salivates as he pictures the soft skin of your inner thighs. It really had been too long since he’d treated himself to a bite there.

When you have set your shoes and rolled stockings off to the side, Astarion grieves as your dress falls down and covers the beautiful skin of your legs once more as you push yourself up to stand in front of him.  

“You’ll have to help me out of my clothes first,” you tease, turning around and moving your hair over one of your shoulders. 

“Oh, gods. Yes, please.” The words fall out of Astarion in a rush as he nearly trips over himself to stand behind you. He loosens the ties at the back of your dress. “You made it easy on me today. No buttons.”

You shoot Astarion a wink as you pull your dress and petticoat over your head, tossing them carelessly on the ground next to Astarion’s discarded shirt. You turn around again and Astarion dutifully begins helping you out of your corset, unlacing the pretty ribbon holding it in place as quickly as his dexterous fingers allow.

“You know,” you say, shrugging the corset off when Astarion finishes, “It’s a wonder why I even bother to wear clothes at all when you always seem determined to get me out of them.”

“I often wonder the same thing,” he sighs wistfully, leaning down to drop a kiss to your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, practically draping himself over your back. He bites your ear lightly. “You should probably just stop wearing them altogether to save me time.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You turn your head to shoot him a coquettish smile.

“Very much so,” Astarion growls, his lips grazing down your neck, following along your collarbone. “Your body is a wonder, darling. It’s meant to be appreciated.” 

You kiss Astarion’s cheek and disentangle yourself from his arms. “I’ve got it from here, smooth talker.” 

“But I’m so helpful,” Astarion pouts.

You roll your eyes at him but you’re still smiling, so Astarion knows you are amused by his antics. “Just take off your pants.” 

“You’re just as incorrigible as me, darling,” Astarion jokingly scoffs as he slips out of his trousers.

You shoot him a flirtatious smile in response as you pull your chemise over your head, depositing it in the pile with the rest of your clothes. 

But Astarion does not miss your wary glance back in the direction of the cottage. He holds his hand out for you and you instinctively entwine your fingers with his. “It’s private out here, little flower. I assure you, no one will see us.”

“I know,” you say, uncharacteristically bashful. Your gaze falls down to where your fingers are laced with Astarion’s and you bring your other hand up to fidget with the ring on his finger. “Besides, you’d threaten to kill any unfortunate soul who did manage to wander down here and I think I’d rather enjoy that.”

It’s quite a bold confession from you. 

“Oh, you like that, do you, pet? You like when I’m possessive of you?” 

“Not possessive. Protective.” you correct him. “I like that you respect my boundaries and are willing to discipline anyone who is disrespective.” Your voice drops low and silky. “Plus, you have to know how attractive you look when you protect me.”

“Keep talking like that and we aren’t even going to make it into the water before I fuck you,” Astarion growls.

You just grin at him and tug on his hand, pulling him to the edge of the large rock the two of you had been sitting on. The tide had risen in the time that the two of you had spent watching the sunrise and the gentle waves now reach the rock. You both wade deeper and deeper into the water, letting it climb up- to your knees, to your hips, to your chests.

“The water’s colder than I remember but it feels good,” you say, closing your eyes and tilting your head up to the sun. “Sun feels nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Astarion agrees, but he keeps his eyes locked on you. He can’t help but admire you like this, all peaceful and content. 

And then, out of nowhere, an errant wave of water hits Astarion in the face. He sputters while you cackle next to him. 

“My hair!” he cries out. 

You continue laughing at him, raising your hand like you’re going to push another wave of water his way.

“Don’t.” He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not the type of man you want to mess with, darling.”

“Yes, you’re very scary,” you say sarcastically. 

Astarion reaches out like he’s going to grab you and you laugh and swim away from him. He tries to chase after you, but you’re graceful and quick like a mermaid. Somehow, you always manage to glide away from him just when his fingers are about to brush your skin.

“You’ll have to be sneakier than that.” You roll on your back to playfully kick water in Astarion’s direction. He strikes while you’re gloating- grabbing hold of your ankle and sharply dragging you back toward him. 

“Gross,” you complain when you resurface, spluttering and spitting water out of your mouth. “I hate the taste of saltwater.”

And Astarion just stares at you- at how the water drips down your skin and your wet hair sticks flat against your head and the way your nose scrunches up in disgust as you try to get rid of the taste of saltwater in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask when you turn and catch him staring at you. “Is there something in my hair?”

“This view is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen and still, I can’t pull my eyes away from you. Still, it is you that pulls the breath from the lungs and renders me speechless. Still, you are the siren that has bewitched me with her song.”

That beautiful soft smile returns to your face and you reach out, winding your arms around his neck and leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. 

Astarion lets out a content hum and smiles because he can taste it. He can actually taste the salt and seawater as your lips slide against his.

It’s a sweet, slow kiss that leads to a whole series of sweet, slow kisses that gradually deepen. Astarion hopes that kissing you more, kissing you deeper will quench his thirst. It doesn't. Each kiss only serves to stoke the raging inferno deep within him, the blaze set alight by the sun in his veins. 

His hands move over the soft skin of your belly, tracing down over the curve of your ass, giving the soft flesh a little squeeze that has you mewling into his mouth. His hands continue lower, wrapping around the back of your thighs as he lifts you up, wading back in the direction of the large rocks on the shoreline. Somehow, he manages not to trip and drop you, even when you do distract him by peppering kisses along the curve of his jaw. 

Thankfully, the blanket had not blown away in the wind, and Astarion eases you down onto it, carefully resting his weight on top of you. His hair is wet and surely a mess from where your fingers have threaded through it. So much for all his careful styling earlier. 

“See,” Astarion says, kissing down your sternum, “it’s a good thing we got those pesky clothes out of the way already.”

Astarion feels your laugh reverberating in your ribs as he licks away the drops of saltwater that run along your chest. He continues sliding his tongue along your skin, relishing in the way you squirm underneath him. It has his cock aching where it presses between your bodies. 

With a slow grind of his hips, Astarion tongue traces a wet line along the underside of your breast, moving upward to gently suck one of your hard nipples into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it. 

You let out a happy sigh and Astarion’s feels your whole body relax beneath him.

“You really do have the most perfect bosom I’ve ever seen,” Astarion says, when he releases your nipple from his mouth with a lewd pop. One of his hands traces upward along your ribs to cup and knead at the flesh of your other breast. 

His mouth follows soon after, sucking at the skin of your chest while his fingers circle and tweak your nipples. His efforts to mark you are in vain, he knows, but he’s at least momentarily rewarded when he pulls away and gets to watch the angry, red mark fade from your skin. 

When Astarion finally looks up from his handiwork, you’re watching him with hooded eyes, pupils blown so wide that your red eyes nearly look black. Astarion presses up, catching your mouth in a kiss and sliding his tongue against the seam of your lips. You open eagerly for him and his tongue slides into the wet cavern of your mouth. 

Your fingertips ghost along Astarion’s arms, tracing lines over the muscles and inching their way upward until Astarion feels them slip over his shoulders, moving gently along the raised skin of the scar on his back. 

“Is that okay?” you murmur, pulling away from the kiss.

“Yes,” he answers, “but I don’t know why you’d ever want to touch it. That thing is hideous.”

Astarion would let you touch him anywhere, would let your soft fingertips glide and press upon any part of him that you wished. But why did you always insist upon finding all the ugly, hidden parts of him and holding them up to the light? Why did you always insist on loving the pieces that Astarion himself hated?

“No, not hideous. It’s a part of you and nothing about you could ever be described as hideous.” Your fingertips continue stroking and soothing along the circular pattern. “And you deserve to have some new memories associated with your scar. So now, when you feel its weight upon your back, you will not think of the night you received it. You will think instead of the day that the woman you love gave you the sun.”

“You gave me the sun long ago,” Astarion confesses, the pad of his own thumb moving to touch your soft lips. “When you smile… It feels like sunshine against my skin.”

You smile and it puts the sun to shame. 

“I was so scared to love you at first,” Astarion says softly. He hardly knows what sentiment he is trying to convey other than his earth-shattering love for you, but the words are burning at his throat, forcing their way out before he can think. “I was so scared that you would make me weak and powerless. I know better now. In truth, you are the one who encourages me to be strong. You are the one who showed me the light after so long being trapped in the darkness.”

“If I am your sun, then you are my moon,” you say. “There is not one without the other. All my beauty, all my love, reflects and shines off you. You are the stars themselves, Astarion, shining and shimmering against the blackness of night. Always recognizable, always able to guide me home.”

He dips down to press a slow kiss to your lips so you do not keep saying beautiful words that make him want to cry. 

Astarion gently sweeps the wisps of your drying hair away from your face.

“For once,” he pleads, “let me caress you with the sun, beloved wife, so you might know how it feels to be loved by you.”

“Then take me, husband.” You twine your fingers into Astarion’s hair and press his forehead against yours. “Take all of me. With all that I have and all that I am, I am yours.” 

Astarion lets his hand trail down your stomach in swirling, looping patterns, relishing in the way your skin tightens in anticipation beneath his fingertips. Today, he doesn't feel the need to rush. Today, he will enjoy every little thing that life has to offer him- sunlight and food and pleasure.

Astarion traces swooping cursive along your skin. ‘I love you’ and ‘little flower’ and ‘wife,’ over and over and over again. Surely, you are not following the words he has written, but Astarion believes that the meaning has bled through his fingers and landed straight in your heart.

When he finally grows too impatient, Astarion’s fingers lower between your legs to stroke along the soft heat of your cunt. You let out a shuddering breath, closing your eyes as you relax into his touch.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

Astarion will never grow used to this, to how your cunt begs for his every touch.

He knew he was able to inspire lust in people. He was a handsome man with a talented, silver tongue- lust was a given. But that had all been an act, a performance. None of them ever saw anything deeper. And here you were, dripping over his hand after having just touched his scars, the part of himself that Astarion hates the most. That someone would love all of him- hideous, ugly parts and all- was a fact that Astarion still finds unbelievable.

“Course I’m wet, we were just in the water,” you tease him, raising your leg to poke his ribs with your toes.

“I’ll leave if you’re going to be difficult.” Astarion pulls his hand away from you and sits up.

“No,” you whine, sitting up yourself so that your arms can lock around his neck and drag him back down on top of you.

“All bark and no bite, aren’t you, my cheeky little pup,” Astarion purrs.  

You pout for just a moment before you use the arms you have laced around Astarion’s neck as leverage to pull him down into a kiss, gently tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. One of your fangs scratches lightly against his skin.

“Some bite,” you murmur into his mouth, lips still grazing his.

“You keep stealing all my best lines,” Astarion nudges your nose with his own and he feels your lips pull up into a proud smile. 

“Still sounds better when you say it,” you sigh and Astarion’s cock throbs at your praise. He’s half out of his mind with how badly he needs to be buried inside you. 

“Your voice goes all low and husky,” you continue, dragging Astarion’s hand back down to your cunt. “You should feel what it does to me.”

You encourage Astarion to push a finger inside you as you wrap your hand around his hard length, swiping your thumb over the tip and sending white-hot pleasure radiating up his spine.

“Gods, pet, you’re going to be the death of me,” Astarion rasps and sure enough, he feels your cunt clench around his finger. He drags it out before pushing it back in and you arch into his touch, drawing his finger in deeper, as your hand languidly pumps up and down Astarion’s cock.

“That’s all for you, my star. Always for you.” You speak, quiet and breathless, and Astarion can hardly hear you over the obscene squelching of his finger sinking into you. He adds another and curls them and you shiver with delight beneath him.

Astarion groans, forehead pressed tightly against yours as you breathe into each other. With time, the two of you find a rhythm in your dance, your hand begins to move in time with Astarion’s fingers.

And when Astarion finally eases his cock into you, he is gentle and deliberate. He takes a moment to just stay fully seated inside you, letting the silken heat of your cunt hug him so, so tightly. He grinds his hips against yours slowly, barely pulling out before he’s thrusting back in, enraptured in the way your walls pulse and flutter around him. 

“Gods, look at you,” he says, punctuated by a roll of his hips. 

It feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. And perhaps, he is. Even candlelight and superior vampiric senses did not allow for the fine level of details of daylight. There’s so much to look at- the curve of your eyelashes, the faint lines around your eyes, the tiny scar right by your hairline.  

“You’re so beautiful,” Astarion says with awe. “You’re always so beautiful, but like this…” Another roll of his hips. “Spread out underneath me with your lips swollen from my kisses. The way your hair fans out.” He catches a piece of your damp hair between his fingers. “The way you look up at me with such love and adoration that I fear my heart may somehow return to life.”

“Astarion.”

His name falls from your lips with the reverence of a prayer.

“You say my name so beautifully, little flower. Please, say it again.”

“Astarion,” you whisper, over and over and over, until your tongue is tripping over the syllables and the only sounds that escape your mouth are strangled gasps. 

There is no sense of urgency, no rushing. Time melts away. There is only you and Astarion and the warmth of the sun drying your wet skin and the gentle sea breeze blowing salty air around you. 

“Do you like that?” Astarion asks, when a particularly deep thrust has your nails digging into his skin.

You nod vehemently.

“Use your words,” Astarion urges, repeating the same motion. The knowledge that he’s making you feel as good as he does right now somehow makes him impossibly harder. It has his cock twitching within you. 

“Star…” you pant. “S-so good.”

And Astarion just feels so warm and good and safe. 

There’s this wave of something that feels like relief washing over him as he realizes that the rest of his immortal life is going to be filled with this feeling. There will be no more darkness and agony. There will be no more fear of punishment or stewing in his hatred for Cazador. 

The muscles in your cunt tighten around Astarion, beckoning him closer, welcoming him deeper. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s everything Astarion has ever wanted. A person who knows him, knows the real him- secretly romantic and sappy and a little bit wicked and vindictive, deep down. He had found someone who challenges him, who always has a quip to return to his jokes, who sees his flaws and encourages him to do better. 

Astarion continues thrusting into you, deep and hard, and the gasping whimpers you make are so lovely and your nails feel so wonderful where they lightly scratch his scalp and Astarion can’t fight back the tears any longer. He buries his face into your neck and closes his eyes, letting the tears dampen your skin as he loses himself in you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” you reassure Astarion, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his jaw.

His whole body trembles as he comes.

There’s nothing but bliss and you as Astarion fucks into you, long after his orgasm has washed over him and left his cock so sensitive that it’s nearly painful. The whole time, you just keep running your fingers through Astarion’s hair, whispering soft, soothing praises as he continues to weep into your shoulder. 

“You didn’t come,” Astarion eventually sniffles, pressing a long kiss to the hollow of your throat in apology.

“S’okay,” you reassure, running your fingers along his face, chasing away any remaining wetness. “Felt good anyway. You always make me feel good. But let today be about you, for once. Just you.”

And Astarion knows you mean this- that his pleasure is just as enjoyable as your own. He knows this because he thinks the same. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

“You don’t need to,” you laugh softly. “We have an eternity together, little star. We don’t need to keep score.”

“If we did, I’d be winning,” Astarion teases and he feels your thumb trace along the line by his mouth again when his lips tilt up in a grin.

“Only because you normally insist on making me come at least once before you even dream of fucking me,” you say. “But it’s fine. Losing that competition still feels like winning to me.”

Astarion thinks that maybe it’s not fine, that maybe you’re a bit more competitive than you’re letting on. He laughs and finally pulls out of you, rolling on his back to face toward the sky again. The sun sits high in the middle of the sky. The two of you must have been out here for hours now. 

Astarion stretches out, muscles all loose and relaxed. His eyes flutter shut and his breath calms to a slow, rhythmic pattern. And with the bright, warm air surrounding him and you curled up next to him, watching over him, Astarion lets himself drift off to sleep.

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

Notes:

As usual, this part started at 5k words and I just KEPT adding more words until it was yet another behemoth of a chapter. And deep down, this chapter was sponsored by my personal agenda to make Astarion feel so happy and safe that he cries. And I'm not gonna lie to you all, next week is just like… 90% smut (as any good epilogue should be).

Huge thank you to my beta-writer, AliensNSuch on ao3. Somehow, she manages to make what I am trying to say sound even better.

And as always, thank you to everyone who has read this far! I'll save my final sappy farewell and thank you's for the epilogue next week, but just know that all your love has meant the world to me. This is the first fic I've ever actually been brave enough to post and what a wonderful experience it has been!

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

[wisteriagoesvroom]

sooo late but doing this instead of doing work haha heehee. thanks for tagging me @lovelylotusf1 and @cx-boxbox.

How many works do you have on AO3?

f1 fics: 16 total: 58

What's your total AO3 word count?

310k. which depending on your perspective is a lot, or not a lot at all ! i'm trying to be comfy with the fact that fic is fun and shouldn't be quantified with stats but that's a whole other arc

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i have a whole thing about getting sucked into stats so tbh i don't know as of right now, and am making the active choice not to know

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do for short fics (<3,000 words)! it feels easier somehow? i read every single comment though and even screenshot them for shitty days. (and there are surprisingly quite a lot of shitty days tbh. not to bludgeon you all about it but).

p.s. if you've ever written an essay comment for any fic you deserve the biggest hug in the world. is all i will say as an author...

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

it turns out all my fics are kinda angsty...! probably the girl!lando fic pardon my emotions. the unwritten sequel remains on my mind... the 2024 season has given us so much to work with...

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

definitely the sun and really because @maaxverstappen specifically requested a happy ending in the exchange prompt. maybe i just need a tiny mandy dancing on my shoulder at all times to make this stick.

Do you write crossovers?

i think i've done for other fandoms but not in f1 yet. i had an 814 spiderman multiverse fic percolating for a while but it's kind of on hold like the rest of my writing atm cus. life.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not in f1 afaik. but it's like my 6th year of being in fandom now and trust me when i say i've seen almost everything atp.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i'm pious i'm unhinged, so yes.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, in a diff fandom

i've talked about co-writing f1 fics with @miamimaiden and @unlapped, but all my writing's kind of on hold rn so nothing as of yet !! co-writing can be so fun though and i highly encourage it. also vibing in the gdocs counts as writing. to meee.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

anything enemies to lovers tbh. hence, carcar.

frando-norpinto have my heart as of late.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

the longform notting hill 814 au that is outlined in my drafts with an almost complete chapter 1, but i do not have the spark or capacity to write more atm

What are your writing strengths?

i've been told i write very cinematically, and that i do ✨ vibes ✨ very well

athat may be at the expense of actual plotting lmao. but i just love slowness without a particular sense of direction sometimes?

which is also why writing the sun was so fun, because i didn't have a ton of time to stay too long in one scene. and i had to finish it on deadline, and it still had character development while staying under 15k

What are your writing weaknesses?

long plots for sure. this is also my hangup in screenwriting class (when i used to go to screenwriting class).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i've done so before for lestappen fics and probably should've gotten it checked, but alas. also lestappen fics were much earlier in my fandom journey and i didn't have anyone to ask back then 😬

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

[redacted]

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

choscar (charles/oscar) or francoscar (franco/oscar) maybe.

bonsai (carlos/alex).

oscar's my blorbo, i just love putting him in Situations.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

in f1 it's gonna be the sun (AGAIN) or at a constant speed.

tagging @miamimaiden @testarossa @strwbrryfire @ocontraire and whoever else wants to play. i'm so late so maybe everyone has done it already.

[i-swear-its-only-ironical]

So, I did Latin for 7 years. WAIT, STOP HEAR ME OUT!

I did my final school exam on Ovid's "Metamorphoses" and the one thing that significantly shaped my view on media was Ovid's understanding of love.

When we think about romance and romantic love today, we tend to think of it as a saving grace, something that completes you. Falling in love in fiction implies a positive bond, something that will eventually help you. There are whole subgenres on the idea that "Love can save you"; "The Power of Love" is a pretty famous trope, right?

Now, Ovid also saw falling in love as a strong but, alas not always one that saves you. In almost every myth he reinterpreted in his "Metamorphoses" love creates - but only through destruction. Here, love is a force of nature, something even the gods aren't immune against. Love is rapturous and terrifying, more an uncontrollable forest fire than a tender candle flame. Love is complicated, the very act of falling so big that no one can even measure the effects it will have on the individual, the community, the world.

One of my favourite scenes in the poetic cycle tells the story about Apollo arguing with Cupido (son of Venus, basically her right hand). It goes like this:

Young Apollo just slew a beast. Standing on it, bloody bow in hand, he spots Cupido and brags: "Look at my skill, my power. I am the element tipping scales in wars, only one hit with my arrow is enough to kill the most gigantic monsters. What can you do with your weak bow, your mediocre arrows? Love, this feeble thing? Forever I will be the better archer between the both of us."

And Cupido, angry, just smiles: "My arrow may not kill any beast in one strike, but it'll strike you. And it'll destroy.

And it does. Apollo gets hit by an arrow and immediately falls in love with the nymph Daphne. Cupido also hits her with an arrow, not one for love but for eternal hate.

Long story short: Apollo runs after her, she begs her father, a river, to help her. He transforms her into a laurel tree, causing Apollo's heart to break. This is why he gets portrayed with a laurel crown in mythological pictures. He wears it to never forget his first love.

This, btw, is one of a gazillion stories where Apollo falls in love with someone and that person dies, gets transformed into flora or eternally hates him. Just because he messed with Cupido once (1)! Cupido and his mother Venus are incredibly petty and power hungry. Ovid's message is rather clear: do not fuck with love! Do not underestimate it! Don't try controlling the forest fire, you will burn yourself.

Love and the loss of it, in Ovids works, is more often than not associated with pain, sometimes implied to be worse than death, sometimes implied to be better than heaven. It creates, it destroys, it lets you learn and fall and stand up again. Love isn't something positive (or negative) - it just is. And you have to deal with that, whether you like it or not.

And I love the implications with this conceptualisation, because love hurts although it may be right, it may be cute, it may be essential. "Uwu such a cute romance sto-" NO. Cute? Love isn't cute, love is bigger than your tiny, short, pathetic life. Love is uncontrollable. Love is chaos.

Sooo, this is a fandom post after all, so I'll get to Stolitz now. If you're just here for me fangirling about Ovid (love that guy, we stan someone that knows his metrics), you can check out now. Hope you had fun reading!

If you think about love like Ovid things about it, isn't it oh-so-understandable why Blitzø fears it so much? It ties you to someone, you float in an ocean and everywhere you look, you see only horizon and waves. And for someone that only has experience with how love destroys (flashback with Fizz birthday, also whatever the fuck happened with his twin sister Barbie) falling of course feels like fucking drowning. You try to act normal, as if there would be normal ground under your feet. You don't try to swim (why bother? Never worked out anyway) and because you don't even try, you start sinking, choking on your own infatuation, with no safe haven, no anchor, no land in sight. You're alone, lungs filling with water, slowly losing consciousness while the sounds of the earth above you are getting quieter, the world desaturated of its colour.

"Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?" - Of course he is? Why wouldn't he? Are you afraid of forest fires?

And to add on that: he feels completely alone in his own conscious, his emotions for Stolas. Because like hell he'd be vulnerable in front of his friends or crush. He's way to deep anyway, everything is dark blue. No one will hear you and even if: you would not want them to listen. Blitzø wants to drown in silence, not having a say in if he drowns at all because, like I said, love is way too big for you to control.

Similar with Stolas, although his view on the fire isn't that pessimistic. He knows how powerful emotions are and doesn't even try to contain them. At first, he almost revels in the waves. Did you ever swim at night, the stars above you multiplied by the water below you? There is nothing but the waves and the stars and the sky. There is nothing, there is everything. Stolas likes loving, he sees beauty and contempt in it. But eventually he sees that there isn't land in sight, that you alone cannot survive this vastness of nature also.

You cannot control the Ocean, cannot control the forest fire, but you can try to coordinate. This is the only way to survive this terrifying ordeal called love.

So he swims, tries to swim at least and he looks for Blitzø, realising they'll both go down with this relationship if they won't find the other between the waves. And he swims and swims, screaming, while Blitzø drowns him out. He cannot hear him, because he cannot accept that pretending there is land under your feet won't magically make the ocean disappear. He'd need to swim, but what good did that ever cause him?

Ok that's all. Thank you. :)

[wtfforged]

Zoro (or Wolfwood), 8 and/or 12, for the character ask game :)

noticing the wolfwood mention, i would first and foremost like to apologize for tricking you into thinking that i have ever consumed trigun. i watched like 3 episodes each of '98 and stampede i know nothing about these characters. i just like trigun and always reblog trigun art anyways bc both wolfwood and vash remind me of my friends oc who i am vehemently obsessed with. i do plan on picking it back up though!!!! i want to read and watch it all!!!!

MOVING ONWARDS!

8- oh god. god. oh my god. im such a haterrr im such a hater. clutching my head. im not used to big fandoms so you have to understand the insane whiplash and like flesh-boiling hatred i felt upon getting into one piece(found family! fun/cute characters! cool adventures!) and seeing the community being so hugely shipping and very specifically Being Weird About Zoro. i ffucking hate how very popular it is to take zoro's usual Kind Of Unexpressive And Quiet/Introverted(shy) Nature and turn him into some weird Sexy Bishounen Yaoi Unquenchable Dom Daddy. this is typically also combined with turning sanji into some tiny little weak and flowery hairless biped twink who goes "kya !" for shipping/jackoff material purposes. like im going to kill you. im gonna bite your nose off. get your hand out of your pants and go sit in the corner and think about what youve done.

12- HEADCANONS IS SO HARD. BC I HAVE SO MANY REALLY SELF INDULGENT ONES THAT IM SO SHY ABOUT HEHE. but one i can give you right off the top of my head is that sometimes i hc that hes functionally illiterate, maybe even dyslexic. he was orphaned so damn young and never got any guidance or schooling outside of the dojo which he only found like, definitely after your typical learned-how-to-read age. and i dont really think dojos teach you how to read and write. it probably took a second for (some of) the strawhats to realize that his snappiness about getting made fun of for his shakey and messy handwriting or misreading/struggling to understand texts isnt just him getting annoyed or engaging in typical banter, but is really him literally not having learned those skills and getting embarrassed and upset about it. of course this isnt like. canon at all. he reads just fine in canon. but alas. we are all always one life-changing fic away from a new hc(<-what happened to me). so on the opposite side of the coin, i also hc that (literate) zoro needs glasses/reading glasses... but thats just cause i think zoro looks reaaaaaaaallly cute in them:] i need to draw zoro in glasses more...!

[poorlittleyaoyao]

ngl it's super funny to imagine Yu Bin!NHS still being like "oh I am so weak and sickly and Delicate I couldn't POSSIBLY lift my saber, alas I am helpless"

IT'S INCREDIBLE. And that scene where the Wens come in at Cloud Recesses and everyone freaks out! Just imagine Meng Yao (unarmed, tiny) heroically interposing himself between the Wen contingent and Yu Bin!Nie Huaisang (in possession of a saber, A LANKY GIANT). It's like a cat protecting a Great Dane.

[waterfallofspace]

The Feline In The Ferocious.

The one in which C/huuya meets a kitten in an alley, and D/azai meets the kitten in C/huuya. Feat. Allergic C/huuya, teasing bastard D/azai (with a touch of genuine caring), and an ADORABLE calico kitten that totally has C/huuya’s eyes. I’ve been posting so many fics recently I’m so sorry, but I had to write something for our beloved C/huuya’s birthday, so here it is! Quite short, but it’s just a little birthday gift~ My first attempt at B/SD, so I hope it’s alright character voice wise~ I adore S/oukoku, so while they’re definitely not in a relationship in this, they have their normal banter/flirty/they’re-in-love-but-can’t-say-it thing goin’ on haha~ For anyone bothering to read this, thank you, and I hope you enjoy~ (references to swearing and cat scratches/blood, so proceed with caution if you don’t like those!) For the kitten, I’m picturing a Calico with Blue Eyes, and to know why- just, just google it okay. The colours of its fur are like the combination of D/azai & C/huuya’s hair, with some white to mix it together, and blue eyes like C/huuya’s. (Yes, I’ve fully lost my mind, incase you were curious~)  Characters: D/azai, C/huuya, and an adorable little Calico Kitten with Blue Eyes Word Count: 2.3k  ~~~~~~~

Chuuya is, and always will be, a dog person. He’s liked them for as long as he can remember, but once he found out Dazai dislikes dogs, he’s since grown to love them even more. It’s not like Dazai is scared of them, or even nervous around them. ‘Though could you imagine how wonderful that would be?’  No, sadly, he just doesn’t care for them. A bit disappointing to not be able to scare him. However just seeing the annoyance slip out from behind his mask when Chuuya walks a dog into the room he’s in is enough to bring a frankly worrying amount of joy to Chuuya. All that to say, Chuuya is a dog person. But… he’s never been able to pass by a cat in trouble without helping. It’s a weakness he’s deeply embarrassed about, similar in his mind to being such a lightweight. Just things that feel way too fragile, which is a feeling he can’t stand.  Anyways, this is what’s going through Chuuya’s head as he stops in the alley, eyes meeting the wide ones of a kitten, half stuck in a paper bag. It mews, a pathetic sort of noise that tugs Chuuya’s heart in a way he’d much rather ignore. Alas… “Fuck, what kind of person would do that-” He growls to himself as he gently pulls the bag off of the trembling kitten. “Hey little guy, it’s okay, I’ve got you now. You’re probably hungry, hm? I wish I had something to give you… I’ll try to find somewhere safer for you to go, okay? Maybe there’s an animal shelter or something nearby I could drop you off in front of.” Ocean eyes meet his own, a sadness lingering just below the surface, like waves hiding the current of a stormy sea. A sadness that he couldn’t help but feel a kinship too. ‘Is that what my eyes look like too..?’  “I’m sorry, I would take you home if I could, buuhht… oh hell, not already- heH’ishh’iew-! Ishh’iew-! tisSH-iSHH-kshhh’uee-! kkDXGT’shoo-! dtNNGt’shiew-! hH’NXGT’choo-! Hehh… hEH-! hEH’ktSHH’iew-!”  Chuuya tries to aim away from the kitten as the ticklish fit bursts its way out of him. He can feel his eyes already watering. ‘Damn it, why do I have to stop every time?! Maybe I really am as weak as Dazai says. Can’t even hold a kitten withou-’  The kitten cuts off his self loathing with a gentle purr, the feeling vibrating through his hands. Tiny claws begin to knead into his arm as he lets the kitten settle itself against his chest, the warmth that settles there having no relation to the kitten’s body temperature. “Oh come on- You can’t stay. I’m sorry, I am, but I really can’t take you home with m-” “Chuuya~ Are you cuddling with a sweet little kitten?” And just like that, the warm feeling swells, turning into a burning pit in his gut. Chuuya would know that voice anywhere. ‘Goddamn it, how did he find me here?!’ he groans to himself, considering just for a minute dropping the kitten. However when he looks down, and sees the sad eyes looking back at him once more, all thoughts of that are wiped clean. With a strong sigh, Chuuya whips around to face his ex-partner. A smile is painted across his face, but, like most of Dazai’s smiles, it’s like that of a doll. Fake, carefully crafted, and entirely lifeless. Almost as if there was no humanity in it, just a mask placed to hide whatever was simmering beneath.  “N- no! I am not cuddling! It jumped into my arms, and I didn’t exactly want to throw it on the ground.” “Awww~ Chuuya does have a heart! I was starting to get worried that you were more robot than person!” The words cut as deep as they’re supposed to, and Chuuya can’t help the wince that escapes. Nor can he seem to prevent the anger that flurries inside him as a response. However, there was no time for any of that, as a much more urgent matter was beginning to present itself. “hehh-”  “Hm? What was that, Chuuya? You have something to say?” As desperately as Chuuya wants to find a clever retort, every ounce of control he has is currently being poured into keeping his nose under control. His eyes have, thankfully, decided to cooperate and stop watering, but the tickle that dances in his sinuses is far from backing down.  “Oh shhhhuuuhh… shut up, you Aahhhh-! Guhhh… You ass.”  “Your words, they sting!” Dazai sighs, dramatically draping his arm over his face, before leaning forward again. Chuuya holds his breath, feeling a warmth flush through his cheeks. He’s quite familiar with the look he’s being given. Dazai is studying him, taking in every piece of his situation, and piecing it together into a plan intended to torment him.  Dazai steps forward, reaching a hand out towards his face, and Chuuya closes his eyes, just to open them again at the cry of pain the other man lets out. Looking down, Chuuya sees a red patch start to form on one of Dazai’s bandaged arms, the man looking quite offended as he glares at the kitten Chuuya’s still cradling.  “That thing just scratched me! I’m telling you, this is why cats are the worst.” Giving Dazai a smile dripping with fake sympathy, and the kitten a few scratches behind the ear, Chuuya swallows hard, hoping to gain enough control to use his voice. “I thhhought it was dogs you disliked. Is it just all animals then? Maybe they can juuhhst sense something about you that drives them to hhhhate you. They’re not the only ones.” “Something bothering you Chuuya~?” “Ass. hehH-!” A hand comes up to pinch his nose shut before he’s even conscious of it. A hand that was just petting the allergen he’s currently cuddling holding. Dazai seems to notice the mistake he’s made even before Chuuya, giving him a smile with a lot more emotion in it then the previous one. “Bless you.” “Wha- hEH’ESHH’ooo-! GoddaahH’ISHH’iew-! Damn it- eshh’uu-! ishh’uu-! tshhh’iew-! hH’keSHH’ooo-! hEH- hH’nGT’choo-!”  “Wow! Bless you a lot more than just once! Is Chuuya getting sick~?” Coming from anyone else the question might be asked out of concern, or curiosity, but from Dazai, it was entirely a taunt. Meant to mean ‘I know that’s not it, I know what’s wrong, are you gonna tell me, or am I gonna get to tease it out of you?’  “Shut up. I’m fine. Why are you here anyways, shouldn’t you be off solving some crime or something?” “I am actually working on a case right now! The case of the sneezy Chuuya! I intend to work until it’s completed, and find out who committed this crime against Chuuya’s poor nose!” “You’re such an ass, Dazai.” “I’m an ass for caring about my dear dear friend?” “ihh’kTSHH’ieww-! hH’ishh-kshh-tshhh’oo-!” “What adorable sneezes you have Chibi! Almost… kittenish!” Asshole as he may be, Chuuya has to admit he’s clever. Not only did he figure out what was causing the allergy attack, but also a way to taunt Chuuya with that fact, while also pointing out a weakness he knows will get under his skin. Unfortunately, knowing where it’s meant to go doesn’t exactly stop it from getting there.  “Sh- shut up, Dazai.” “What a retort! I’m wounded, I’m taken down, I’m broken beyond repair~!” Chuuya rolls his eyes at the dramatics, Dazai practically grasping his chest. Then, with a slight eye roll, and a subtle step forward, he lets a seriousness enter his eyes.  “Did you sneeze out all your clever responses along with the cat hair?” ‘Tipping his hand so early isn’t like him…’ Chuuya feels a slight tightness in his chest as he realizes there’s a deeper game going on here that he wasn’t aware of until now. Already steps behind, playing a game in which he doesn’t know the rules. Just one of the prerequisites of talking to Dazai.  Deciding the best course of action is ignoring him, Chuuya turns his attention back to the kitten, who by now is sleeping peacefully, pressing its head gently against his hand. It’s small enough to fit in one, so with the other, Chuuya pushes Dazai aside. “I have places to be. Unlike you, I still care about my job, and intend to get my work done.” Dazai says nothing, but falls into stride beside Chuuya, once again matching his steps as if it comes as naturally to him as breathing. Breathing which, currently, is not coming so naturally to Chuuya. “hHEH- uhhh… hh’NGT’shhhooo-! Fucking hell- NGT-! hH’DNNT-! hEH’kNNT’shieww-! hahh… hAH’nGTtt’shoo-! kKDXNtt-!”  “Stop that.” Chuuya nearly falls over at the voice. All teasing has been lost, and the eyes staring back at his had lost their glimmer of mischief. There was nothing but an unsettling level of sincerity, something that looked deeply out of place on Dazai. “Whhahh… what…?” “I said stop that. The stifling. We both know it’ll just make you sneeze more anyways, and it gives you a headache.” Then, tilting his head with a crooked smirk as he lets the mischief flood back in, he adds- “Plus, I miss the kitten sneezing! It’s so cute to see Chuuya shaking his head like a cat when they get something on their face~ you know, you actually remind me of a cat in many ways. I could list them if you wan-” “Don’t you fucking dare. I’ll… I’ll…. hehh- hDT-!uhhhh”  He manages to stall it off with a wrist pressed firmly under his nose, both of them noticing the way it trembles at the sudden allergen presence. “Didn’t think that one through, did you?” “hEH! ESHH’IEW-! heH’ishh’oo-! Kishhh’oo-! Tshhh’iew-! hAHH’nnmCHH’ooo-! mmMPFSHH’ooo-! mM’tsHH’iew-! hIH’mmtISH’ooo-!”  Setting for muffling them against his wrist, Chuuya ducks his head again and again, Dazai watching intently, muttering something under his breath. It was long gone before it reached Chuuya’s ears, lost in the wind, but if he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he heard the word cute.  A light ticklish cough works its way out of his throat, bringing tears to his eyes as he attempts to catch his breath through it. This wakes the kitten, who mews softly, intense eyes staring into his own. “Sorry for waking you.” It’s soft, but loud enough that Dazai should have heard it. Still, Chuuya assumes he didn’t, as no comments are raised. Instead, his ex-partner continues to walk in stride, silence hovering uncomfortably between them, broken up only by ticklish coughs.  “There’s a shelter around this block, hand me the kitten.” Chuuya nearly jumps at the sudden noise, his twitching nose taking this lapse of control as an invitation to start up again. “What d- hEH’ketSHH’iew-! hH’ishh’oo-! mM’NNT’shoo-! Ishhh-kshhh-kshh’oo-!”  “Bless you, Chuuya.” The sincerity is back, and still startles Chuuya to his core. “Tha- oh shut up. Where’s the shelter? There’s no way in hell I’m handing her over to you, you’d just toss her in a gutter or something.” Dazai lets a hand fly to his forehead, the other grasping his chest, dramatics back in full swing, and mask comfortably back on. “Chuuya wounds me! I would never do such a thing to an innocent creature! I merely wish to be the one saving- her did you say?- by giving her to the kind shelter staff! And perhaps, even find someone grateful enough to-” “If you finish that sentence I will throw you in a gutter.” They approach the building, and true to his word, Dazai takes the kitten from Chuuya’s arms delicately, and marches into the building with another painted smile. Finally alone, Chuuya allows himself to succumb to the fit he’s been fighting for nearly ten minutes. “ihhh’hEH! hH’ESHH-ISHH-TISHH’ooo-! Fuckin- ihh’keSHH’ooo-! Fuckin’ hell- hAH’ASHH’ooo-! Ketshh’iew-! mM’tiSHH’uee-! Ihh’kishhiew-! heH’ishh’oo! ishh’shiew-shhiew-shhiew-hEH’ISHH’shiew-!” “Adorable. Bless you Chuuya~” “Christ, Dazai! When did you get back?!” “Oh, uhm, I believe it was around ‘fuckin hell’. What language! You should be more delicate with your tongue, it can deal with much more beautiful words than that filth! And, for that matter, a lot more than just words~” “Oi! You realize you just said it too, right?” Chuuya responds, choosing to ignore the last part, though the pink tint that spreads across his face (without his permission) tells Dazai that he did in fact hear it. “But Chuuya forgets, I said it when quoting him! Thus, according to the rules of foul language, it doesn’t count.” “Bullshhhhit. hIH’kishhiew-! hH’ISHH’ooo-!” “Care to look it up in the official rulebook, Chuuuuya?” “Oh, whatever, you ass.” And then, with a gentle tone that neither of them acknowledges, “How’s the kitten?” “They were thrilled to have her. I even got a kiss on the cheek for my efforts!” Chuuya rolls his eyes, but Dazai doesn’t miss the brief flash of hurt that shines through them. “I’m sorry you couldn’t keep her.” “What-?!” “The kitten.” Dazai meets Chuuya’s eyes, a cautious yet soft look in his gaze that Chuuya can’t help but love and hate at the same time. They stay like that for a beat longer than they’d care to admit, both trying to get lost in the silence, lost to the world, to melt away from themselves and find their place in each other. Like they used to. Like they know they can never do again. “Ach. Whatever. I’m a dog person anyways.” “I never did understand that. They’re foul creatures, slobbery, gross, feisty- Hey wait, maybe I do understand!” “Oi you ass, get over here!” Chuuya yells, throwing a punch that Dazai easily dodges, the smirk painted across his face maybe just a touch less fake than it was before. Neither of them talk about it again, both heading their separate ways, but when a kitten shaped stuffed animal shows up outside Chuuya’s apartment, he can’t help but let out a smile along with the sigh.

[madmilez]

What fate can't touch

I think I've always noticed

Yet I've only recently acknowledged

I tend to be quite skeptical

To the point it's almost comical

If only it weren't experience

That's led me to exist like this

But alas, paranoia is ingrained

Expect the worst it's easier to take

The constant pain and

Disappointment every day

Anyway,

What I'm trying to say is,

It was a welcome change

No, it surely was, what am I saying?

If truth be told, and it will be

You came in from nowhere and s a v e d me

Don't think this is lost on me

I am aware of the severity

Before your love my life was a b l u r

And I know I have what I don't deserve

I want to be so much more than this

I want you to get more than you give

I'll never know what made you pick me

You found me at a point in time

I'd done so much damage to my life

I do not think it could ever be undone

Now I must live with constant anxiety

Like a shadow always hanging over me

Each precious moment that we share

A noxious poison fills the air

Looming over my head to remind me

That this could be the last time I see

The one aspect of my life unbroken

The only drive that keeps me going

I hear a clock ticking away our time

Not knowing is warping my damaged mind

The sweetest moments made for savoring

Tainted by their prospective ending

Surely a solution exists somewhere

Yet if it did, could we dare

To think it be a thing attainable

My weakness binds us, our future unstable

If I ever were to pray a prayer

One desperate lament to the air

I would speak but a pair of lines

A request, a plea the only desire of mine

Heal me that I might become better

Erase my past so we can be together

I'll be completely candid here

I'd settle for even a couple years

A fraction of what I had hoped for

Yet likely more than I deserve

Just a tiny fragment of time

My hand in yours, yours in mine

No dark cloud over head

Past ghosts all laid to rest

Just a little piece of this life

I'd give you every second of time

I dont know what fate has planned for us

But whatever it does

Wherever we end up

Just know, you will always be my one true love

[poppyseedoncaffeine]

CH. 5

A/N: Kill code has a no swearing function and you cant tell me i'm wrong.

3.

        Teleportation felt weird, his head hurt... it made his body all tingly! It felt funky. Eclipse's thoughts came to a stop, where had he heard that word before? Funny, little, T R A T I O R, brother, kind, S T U P I D, adorable, perfe- F L A W E D, WEAK. Eclipse shook his head, those words weren't fun. Funky was fun, "fuky!" it was fun to say too!

        KC looked at Eclipse, "where did you learn that?" Eclipse lifts his head off of his caretakers chest plate confusion written across his face, where had he learned it? The word, brother, popped into his head, "Buder!" he said confidently, yes he learned it from his brother! he was met with a sharp flick on the nose "don't say that" Eclipse clasped his nose in retaliation. Now KC wouldn't be able to flick his nose, "Fuky!" he was met with a sharp glare, "sorry" Eclipse was about to lay his head back down before he was abruptly set onto the floor.

        No fair! He didn't wanna walk! KC gripped his little hand tightly, dragging him down the Pizza plex hall. So many colors! those yellow bots looked neat! The bot in question turned to look at the duo, Eclipse waved, the bot went back to work. Eclipse was much too busy looking around, to think about where they were going, he never paid attention to the rest of the plex before. Something grabbed his free hand and forced him to face them, "HERE HAVE A MAP" Eclipse screamed.

        Eclipse held his new map tightly in his hand, dried tear marks prominent on his face. He tripped up the escalator, why wasn't it moving? His stomach felt icky, why did it feel icky? Something built up in his throat, it didn't feel good, he wanted it out! He stopped moving, only bending away from his gown to spit up onto the already gross carpet.  KC's grip tightened as he dragged Eclipse along making the child step in a puddle of his own sick.

        Eclipse whined, he wanted to go back to the lab! he was tired, and his tummy felt gross, his head felt gross, his foot felt gross, he felt gross! a door opened and he was suddenly assaulted by very loud music. Eclipse covered his eyes, whatever room they went to was too bright, too loud, and... too... well everything. the death grip on Eclipse's wrist readjusted so the child faced KC "I am going to collect you after this illness leaves your body, I have no time to worry about something so small" Eclipse was pushed towards the slide... wait slide? No... Eclipse turned to look at KC who was already taking his leave.

        "wai! don' foget me!" Eclipse stumbled towards the door as it slammed shut. 

        Eclipse whimpered, he pulled at the door, he pushed, it wouldn't budge. Fresh tears careened down his face as he felt pressure build up in his throat again. He wanted Harvest, he wanted the gross bowls of food, not this place! Everyone here hated him, and he hated them! Eclipse curled tightly into a ball, thumb making its way into his mouth as he nursed his heavy head on his knees. There was a thump behind him, Eclipse curled into himself, he wanted to go home.

        "HELLO! My, My, what are you doing here all by yourself? Its much more fun down in the daycare!" Eclipse whimpered as he was hoisted up into the bots arms, "Oh my goodness you're burning up friend!" Sun brought Eclipse close to his body as they carefully made their way down to the ground level, "I'm sure some medicine and a nice nap will make you feel all better!" Eclipse tried pulling away from the stupid bot, but alas tiny exhausted toddler arms could not defeat a robot designed for taking care of children. His stomach rolled at the motion, his head spinning as Sun walked.

        Eclipse gagged, the horrible feeling of bile going up his throat, "oh buddy hold on! can you hold it till we get to a bin little one?" Sun picked up the pace, at this point running to the security desks. The two hardly made it to the bin Eclipse scrunched his nose, it smelled gross. Sun gently rubbed the child's back. Much to Eclipse's dismay, he found the motion comforting and literally leaned into the enemy's hands. Sun whispered assurances in his ear as Eclipse sat poised over the bin.

        Once a few minutes went by with no more vomiting Sun carefully collected Eclipse in his arms once more, making a mental note to empty the bin. "whats your name? I don't have you logged in on my data base" Eclipse swallowed, he could tell Sun his name, it could certainly get him kicked out, no normal parent named their kid Eclipse. On the other hand he felt safe in his what could have been brother's arms. His brain couldn't think of a solid lie, so as softly as he could he whispered "Eclipse" and Sun dam near dropped him.

[zhongrin]

"as i said before, dad can't say 'no'- i'm gonna stop myself there." (ehehe don't mind me being a little tiny bit devious mom /lh).

alas yes, albedo does seem to know all my weaknesses because of how obvious i am smh and knows i'm susceptible to his charm

"well, can you blame me? it's your own fault for being so easy to be made a target." (albedo no-)

anyway HEHHEHEHEHE i can definitely see dad turning into chunkli just for kissies,, like to me he just looks like a squishy noodle with mochi cheeks and the perfect pillow for you to cuddle with ( ^ω^ )

also i'd love to see uncle haitham and uncle wrio bicker and dad just discreetly instigating them on from the sidelines just for funsies, i'd probably throw in a quip or two just to mess with them as well like: "isn't coffee just sour bean juice?" JDKSNDBSH /j

also yw!! ye watercolor painting is just relaxing in general ehe

when the hubbies know our weakness and uses it to fluster us hshflsdhsl

real 😭 he'd be so cute. he knows i'm weak to cute things 😭

o m g .

al haitham, horrified, flabbergasted, brain and composure going 404 not found, the most offended in his whole life, staring at all of us: you're all monsters.

(he's seeking headpats now i think yall traumatized him too much- /silly)

[riilache]

11:51; October 16, Monday

As the night enveloped me on this chilled evening, raindrops whispered their stories upon my journey. A shiver coursed through my frame, though not from the biting cold alone. It was a shiver born of something deeper, an ache residing within, akin to a melancholic sonata that resonates with my very soul. My thoughts invariably turned to her, for her essence is an unceasing presence in my thoughts. She, who spoke of him, recounted their shared moments and unveiled a world I could never fully grasp. I, the perennial recluse, found myself entangled in her words as if her narratives cast a bewitching spell upon my heart. I loathe myself for being ensnared in this treacherous web of emotions, for I, Reeze Lastimado, am not one to indulge in such trivialities. Yet, when it is her, I find myself swaying in the turbulent currents of longing and desire. It is a craving for her warmth, her presence, that which I've sought endlessly throughout the day. The fear of intruding upon her sanctum, where she may be conversing with him, gnaws at my consciousness. What if I discover them in the midst of their discourse? Would my resolve crumble, leading me to confront her, or would I retreat like a shadow, wishing for an alternate self to replace me? Yet, as the stars bear witness, I chose the latter, to remain in the periphery of her world, concealed and silent, observing her from afar. Through the tiny window of her room, I saw her immersed in the art that brought her joy, her countenance radiant as she painted. Our eyes, our souls, connected in a fleeting yet profound moment, and she, my muse, rushed to embrace me. The ecstasy of that embrace was a symphony that resounded in my heart. Time raced by, and our conversations flowed like a river with no end. I cherished those stolen moments, those exchanges that held me captive, where the world ceased to exist, and only she remained. But alas, my heart ached as she spoke of him, her countenance lighting up in a way I could never hope to replicate. Oh, how I envied him, the possessor of her laughter, her smiles, her random blushes. I yearned to be the subject of her reveries, the one who sent her into fits of passion. But such desires are but illusions, woven from the threads of my own fantasies. I find myself drifting in this narrative, my thoughts wandering like a lost traveler. Yet, it is she who captivates my soul, my artist, my gem, my Achilles' heel. As I pen these words, I acknowledge the forbidden nature of my affections, for I am acutely aware that she will never cast upon me the gaze she reserves for him. In these hallowed pages, I pour my heart out, bearing witness to the tumultuous emotions that dance within my breast. She remains my masterpiece, my muse, my greatest weakness.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 1 : Things Never Change

pairing : fushiguro toji x fem!reader

warnings/tags : 18+, alternate universe - office, angst, fluff, smut, eventual romance, alcohol, falling in love.

genre : angst + fluff + smut

word count : 2,569

a/n :  I've re-written the preview making it the official chapter. It's quite honestly the same, just a couple of things added and edited to make transitions between scenes smoother. I'd like to get chapter 2 out soon since there's not much more added to this chapter, but alas, I don't know if I am capable of writing it by the end of this week (Sunday being the last day of the week). I'll try my best though.

I appreciate the kudos and bookmarks, please stay tuned for the series!! xx

18+ minors dni!!!

masterlist  |  ch. 1  | next >>

Condemnation. At what cost does the mind forget the daily ritual of self-punishment? Is it once the body has drunk all the rich desires, feeding off every last drop to find the essence of happiness?

Perhaps for the average man, but not for Fushgurio Toji.

On the contrary, poisoning his mind with stimulants such as alcohol and gambling just reminds him more of that useless entity he embodies. Even the talent he has to undress women he’s said only a couple of words to doesn’t mask the void he feels in his chest. He can’t forget. That is his weakness – his mind in the past and his present only hanging by a thread. There’s not much use for him in this world except for money and maybe the occasional body that he can fuck so he isn’t completely gone.

And yet, darkness surrounds him.

In a room, a tiny desk lamp illuminates his keyboard as Toji submerges himself further into his work. The clicking and clacking fill the room, a dull reminder that once again he is left alone in the office. He hopes that the overtime will bring his check out to a more satisfying sum, but it's always doubtful when his hunger for money doesn't stop. All he does is work and sleep.

Work. Drink. Sleep. Wake up. And do it all over again.

It’s all he’s ever done. All he’s ever known since he walked out on his family. Maybe working himself to the bone is the only sane thing he’s done his entire life. Or maybe he wasn’t man enough to own up to being a father. He tries not to think about it. The thoughts only haunt him, clouding his mind of what’s truly important at the moment.

Money. Drinking. Fucking. Sleeping…

He wakes himself up from nodding off at his desk and checks the time. 8:00 pm. It’s still too early even for a weekday night and he hopes his age isn’t wearing him down. He can’t be one of those people that go to bed earlier than midnight – no, that wasn’t something he would do. Instead, he should be heading to a bar.

So he turns off his computer and scoots out of his desk before turning the lamp off, the only light casting from the hall towards the elevators. He grabs his coat and makes his way out of the building. 

He craves the touch of whisky on his lips. Only the good stuff. He likes it neat – nothing but whisky in the glass. Malty flavors dancing on his tongue, the sting of the liquid running down his throat then warming up his chest. One of the best feelings he can have in a day.

The pub, a block down from the office, is his usual spot. He goes enough that he’s met every bartender and doesn’t even need to order when he sits down at the bar. They give him a nod pouring the golden liquid into a crystal glass and Toji licks his lips. Not even an exchange of words – just the way he likes it. 

Taking a swig of the smokey liquor, his eyes light up at the ingestion of what can only give him peace of mind. He wishes he could just sit here forever, drinking every last drop of alcohol, it’s the easiest way to sulk in existence, the easiest way to forget. But down the bar, in his peripheral, a woman sits drinking alone. She’s chugging back a pint of beer, looking unusually rough, like she’s had a hard day. As she puts down the glass on the bar, she doesn’t look half bad; not quite his type but she will do. Slamming back the rest of the whiskey, he stands up walking toward the woman. She looks a bit startled by his appearance and it brings a spark to his eyes as he pulls the barstool out.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, sitting down next to the woman. Her lips slightly upturn to a smile to the offer and nods with a ‘sure.’

Everything after that goes quite fast for Toji. He doesn’t really remember the small talk they exchanged before both leaving the bar after a few drinks. All he remember’s is her offering to go to her place and getting a cab to her apartment that was halfway across the city. Boy, her cunt better be worth it, he thinks to himself. And it was. She did a good job sucking him off beforehand and when it was his turn, he tortures her clit just until she was about to come undone. But before she does, he grabs his cock and puts it inside her, a hiss exhaling past his teeth. The sex is quick as she hasn’t been one of his favorites, but he would be stooping fairly low to admit he had one. He has no right to. 

He snarls out a low groan as he ascends to his peak, finishing inside the stranger with his fingers almost bruising her hips. A euphoric sensation fills his mind, much better than any glass of whiskey.  Pulling out, he lays beside her on the bed, his mind high off the toxic dopamine. His chest is heaving as the woman curls up beside him, arm draped across his body and he can feel her starting to drift away into slumber.

Toji remains awake, waiting. Waiting for the moment she’s in a deep sleep, so much so that he can pry himself away from her affection and leave. And he does without a peep, doubtful he will ever see her again.

All is quiet in the city as the winter chill tries to bluster through his jacket sobering him up. He walks down the street taking out a cigarette, striking a light to inhale the toxins. It’s about 2:00 AM now and he has to remind himself that he has to go to work in 6 hours. It’s too late for another drink, and it’s too late to wander around the streets. Plus, it’s unfathomably freezing and he needs to get back to his place.

Spotting a cab, he calls it over, taking out his personal ashtray to put out the cigarette. This was the part he always hated the most, the trek back home, wishing he could snap his fingers and be in his bed. It was also always a pain to pay for his drinks, pay for someone else's drinks, pay for the cab to their place and then pay for the cab back to his place. He isn’t made of money. Though sometimes he wishes he was.

His place is old and unkempt with the paint on the walls peeling and a mess on the floor making it difficult to find his footing where ever he steps. The growing pile of garbage, the atrocious scent upon walking in. It’s clear that Toji doesn’t care. And why would he when he has nothing left to lose?

Upon entering his apartment, his intoxication fades, his hormones settle, and he starts to feel the pressure building in his chest. The never-ending cycle persists with the company of his own thoughts and they just wouldn’t shut up. The constant reminder of his unremorseful indecency, his immoral transactions, and exchanges. There wasn’t a question – he knew he wasn’t a good guy, but at least he could still sleep at night

  Another day breaks and another unfulfilling eight hours are ahead of Toji at the office to temporarily distract him. Though he's running on caffeine and the smallest sip of liquor to energize him, his late-night endeavor doesn't stop him from honing in on his latest project. Of course, he could care less about it, but he knows if all goes well, a rewarding pay grade could potentially be talked about. And if he is driven by anything, it would have to be money. What could he possibly do with extra cash? The choices seem limitless. More alcohol. More gambling. More women. 

“Yo, Fushiguro,” a voice calls out forcing Toji to look up from his work. His co-worker, Shiu Kong, approaches him with a smile – an average build adult man with short spiked black hair and a thin mustache. “Heard you stayed here late last night. The director seems to be quite impressed.”

“I could care less what the director thinks,” Toji mumbles. “You know what I am here for.”

“Power? Your own office to complete your ‘private’ meetings?” Kong replies with a laugh.

"Didn't know I was that predictable," Toji snickers. His mouth twists at the thoughts of his carnal instincts evermore present picking up on Kong's joke about private meetings. What would it be like if he was the director? What would be the first order of business on his part? His current craving includes locking in his office door, blinds open with a breathtaking view of the city while he bites down on a women's inner thigh. She'll squirm and he presses her back firmly into his desk, teasing her aching cunt with his tongue.

“C'mon Fushiguro," Kong says, pulling Toji out of his appetizing daydream. "You’ve always been the same since I met you, you never change.”

“Likewise,” Toji jokes.

Kong and Toji go way back, even before working in the same office. They had lost touch at some point, as Toji began his descent into self-destruction after his wife died. But Kong eventually reached out to Toji, calling him by Zenin, his old family name to which he refuses to go by, and prefers Fushiguro. If it weren't for their friendship, Toji wouldn't be working, instead, he'd be searching for the odd job enough to get him by, without it being insufferable. And for that, Toji is eternally grateful. He won't say it, even so, he doesn't have to because Kong knows.

Toji and Kong's conversation pauses as a crowd of co-workers run across the room to the hallway leading to the elevators.

“What’s gotten into them?” Toji asks.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Kong starts, looking over to Toji who shakes his head. “They’ve hired someone new in HR.”

“Another? Can’t seem to keep them around here, can they?” Toji utters.

“I suppose," Kong agrees, crossing his arms against his chest. "But rumor is she’s fairly attractive.”

Toji raises an eyebrow.

Commotion from the crowd causes everyone to burst, running back to their desks. The entire office is silent as a hushed ding sounds, announcing the elevator has arrived. The clack of heels hits the floor as low chatter sounds in the background. Toji and Kong wait as the sound of heels comes closer, unsure what to expect. A tension fills the room until the voices reveal two familiar faces - colleagues that were late for work. 

“Guess we won’t know,” Kong sighs.

Toji returns back to his work, unamused. Rumors like that always happen here and it ends up being some deranged old man. It’s obvious people just like to talk, it’s the most exciting thing that happens here. And yet, part of him hoped that the rumor was true.

He’s working late again and he’s the only one in the office. He can feel the end of the project just at the tip of his fingers while typing, but it’s a Friday evening and he’s run out of motivation. He sighs tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. 

“I need a drink,” he says before turning his desk lamp off and putting on his coat. He nonchalantly walks to the elevator and pushes the button whilst thinking about ending the week with a more expensive whiskey, and maybe hitting up a club instead, somewhere where there are lots of women dressed in tight clothing.

“Good evening,” a soft voice sounds breaking Toji away from his thoughts. He looks beside him and sees …

You.

You’re standing straight, clutching your bag handle as it rests on your shoulder. There’s a slight pout on your lips and your brows furrow into a frown, which makes Toji wonder if you’re just trying to look intimidating or you’re actually in an unpleasant mood. He’s never seen you around the office before, trying to put together if you work in another department, or you’ve just gone unnoticed until now. Yet, he knows he would notice someone like you walk by.

“Hasn’t your mother taught you it’s rude to stare,” you say sensing his gaze, eyes still fixed on the elevator. Toji’s a bit shocked by the sharpness of your words, now recognizing the tenacity and attitude behind your appearance.

“Bold of you to assume I actually have a healthy relationship with my family,” he grins, putting you in your place while hoping to edge you on more.

Your eyes turn to Toji with a look so chilling it's as if you're staring right into his soul.

“Sorry, I didn’t get a good look at you,” you exclaim flatly then analyze him from head to toe. Your eyes are caught in a gloom, filled with mystery and wonder, but a hint of uncertainty. You let out a snort. “You have family trauma written all over.”

Toji can’t believe you just said that. The mere distaste on your tongue upon just looking at him sends shivers down his spine. Of course, you weren’t blinded by his looks. Of course, you could see right through him for who he truly is. There’s something about the punishing look in your eyes like you can point out a good-for-nothing man in seconds. You didn’t seem to be like someone easily persuadable, nor like someone who’d get caught with the likes of him. 

When he doesn’t reply, you let out a little chuckle. “I’m kidding, you know.”

Toji's jaw locks before exhaling a scoff. “You should probably work on your tone.”

“I’ve been told that all my life and seems like I’ll never change.”

Your words are unexpectedly warm contrasting the initial impression you put on him and it's puzzling – you’re unreadable.

The elevator arrives and you take a step towards the lift then stop at the sounds of your phone buzzing. You take it out of your purse and then turn to Toji.

“Sorry, got to take this,” you breathe, turning back towards the office. “See you around, loner boy.”

You walk off, disappearing into the darkness of the office like an apparition. And at first, he didn’t believe you physically existed, especially with his eyes stinging from gazing at a computer screen all day. Then he thinks back to your interaction. He can’t help but be in awe of your personality. He’s never met someone like you before. 

As he walks into the elevator, he pushes the main floor button, and the doors slowly close. The smirk on your face stuck in his brain and he snickers under his breath.

In Toji's past, there's only been a specific type of woman that’s driven him crazy. By 'type', he means troubling women that can be a handful, blood boiling with stubbornness and unpredictability. By 'crazy', he means, submerged in irritation, to the point that he could rip all his hair out and not in a good, sexy kind of way. 

You are a different definition of crazy that’s only hit the surface. You're intriguing. Provoking. And he’s hungry.

But boy, did he not even know a sliver of what he was getting into..

masterlist  |  ch. 1 | next >>

[sexysilverstrider]

An Agonizing Remorse | Volokari

  Finally!

  Mania spiked his mind to a high. An eerie smile cracked his mouth wide open. Black pupils shrunk madly, shivering inside a pair of maddening greys. Both hands curled into half-fists. White teeth grinded achingly, so roughly until his jaw strained to a threat of a snap.

  Despite the pain, despite the tear of cloth and skin, despite the dry throat that cracked blood in between, all Volo could focus, all Volo could see was her.

  He was winning. He would win! All these years led him to this. All those hells he went through would be rewarded soon enough. No one in this forsaken planet could stop him. Not even her. Not even the cursed ‘Chosen One’ he so loathed from the deepest pits of his black heart.

     The blood moon that beamed above them only shined brighter, painting the world red with promise of blood.

  His whole body shivered. His entire heart rattled. Breathing seemed impetuous. Vision began to blur.

  It was then he heard her scream.

  Wild. Unbound. Aggressive. Horrifyingly furious.

  Ah. It only made his laughter louder.

  Grey eyes—once void of life—were now wide and red, focused on the one girl he was battling. On the one girl he tricked. On the one girl he manipulated. On the one girl who reminded him of a time of unreachable bliss. On the one girl who gave him warmth when he felt eternally cold.

  On the one girl who constantly, infuriatingly, haunted his slumber and wake.

  Giratina shrilled louder, deafening him, forcing him back to the very reason he dreamed of this.

  But alas—as Volo pointed one bleeding palm towards her—all Volo could do, all Volo could focus on, was the demise of the Chosen One who was on the verge of shattering his very dream.

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

Ever since that incident, Togekiss realized something was definitely off with her friend.

  Volo was quieter than usual. Even when there were no humans around, the wielder was far friendlier with his Pokémon. He would talk nonstop, either talking about relics or ruins or the any mystery that caught his eye. While he looked generally unapproachable to some people, he was always, always warm and welcoming to his beloved friends.

  But now…

  ‘Volo…’ Togekiss cooed, catching his attention. The Jubilee Pokémon hovered close, nudging his left shoulder in hopes to get any proper reaction out of him.

  It did; Volo flinched just a moment as if he was woken from a daydream.

  “Ah,” was all he said, grey eyes softened to see his worried friend. “It’s nothing, Togekiss.” Pat, pat, the man assured her. “I was just thinking about what we should have for dinner later. I was thinking Aguav berry soup. What do you think?” His voice laced with honey, yet lacking in sincere joy that always beamed every time he talked to the Pokémon.

  Togekiss saw this change.  

  She opened her mouth, yet said nothing. Slowly she closed it, expression showing obvious concern that was now a staple part of her. A low murmur vibrated inside her. A tiny frown was still in place, perfectly mirrored in a pair of eyes that once lost its glow.

  Volo hated that frown.

  “I am fine.” He assured her. Again and again. Lying had become his second language, yet using that language against his dear friend truly hurt him. “I will be.” A hint of desperation slithered in between. One hand patted Togekiss’ head, fingers ruffling through the very soft feathers.

  I have to be.

  Another lie was choked down a dry throat.

  Knowing full well the conversation was going nowhere—whether he understood her or not—Togekiss gave a solemn nod and floated a bit higher. ‘I’ll go tell the others to prepare for dinner.’ A small smile finally emerged, honest and sincere, always filled with love that burst for her beloved human friend. Seeing a smile, albeit weak, from him, Togekiss flew off in the direction of her other friends.

  As Volo watched her fly off, his faint smile easily died to a frown.

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

  It had been forever since he last ate a meal made with love.

  Eyes wide with blissful shock. Mouth filled with food curved to a joyful smile. Surprise raised his shoulders, bursting him with light even from the delicious feast that danced on his tongue.

  “This is delicious!” he beamed, radiant and pure after he swallowed the delicacy. Grey eyes focused on the young woman sitting from across the campfire. A blush could be seen on her cheeks, the colours more vivid by the light of the dancing flame.

  “It’s…nothing really.” She laughed so meekly, poorly hiding the embarrassment that tickled her body.

  His throat felt dry at the sight.

  She was talking still, specifically about how the ingredients she needed existed in this timeline so it was simple to make the dish. The simple statement shot him to his senses, reminding him that she technically was never meant to live nor exist in this timeline.

  The reminder made his teeth grind.

  “Still,” She should not be here, “I have never tasted such delicacies.” He felt his hands shake—Volo couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or embarrassment. A cough broke out, threatening his smile to shatter. Taking a single breath, Volo lowered his hand but let an index finger rest near a sculptured smile.

  “The people in your time must be lucky to taste such good food from you.”

  Ah, he felt so despicable to see such a playful smile on her face.

  “See, now you’re just exaggerating.” Akari pointed her wooden spoon at him. A proud smile now placed on her face, the Galaxy member continued her meal.

  Completely unaware of the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

  Completely unaware of the hatred that coiled his throat to nausea.

  “I am nothing but honest, my dear.” The words were laced with poison, sickened with toxic that he wished to drenched her into.

  His smile remained perfect. His teeth grinded harder.

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

  Ever since that fated fight, he decided to never again show his face to the village. To her. He knew the wretched Chosen One would have told the Galactic Team about him. About his betrayal. Why wouldn’t she? He broke her trust after all. It seems natural that anger would be enough to fuel her for an act of vengeance.

  It was normal human behaviour after all.

  Besides, he didn’t belong there. Not Jubilife village. Not Ginkgo Guild. Not anywhere. Ever since he was born, he knew Arceus never favoured him to live happily. He was meant to suffer. He was meant to wither. He was meant to be eaten alive from the inside out the moment that wretched bitch got spat into this world.

  Crack.

  His breathing ragged. His eyes burned.

  Taking a deep breath, Volo cocked his head high. He shook once and twice. Long nails dug deep into thick gloves, yet almost enough to tear through such ragged material.

  Regret choked his throat once closed eyes showed nothing but the bleeding image of her face.

  Volo snapped his eyes open.

  “Fucking…” A curse slipped between clenched teeth. Deciding that this torment wasn’t going away, Volo took off his backpack and threw it a few steps away. Anger only bubbled within, leaving him warm with rage on a land that was barren and white.

  He didn’t belong anywhere; he might as well borrow this frozen wasteland for the night.

  Mouth pursed to a straight line, he unstrapped his Pokéballs and released his team. One by one got out, yawning and stretching after being disturbed from their slumber.

  ‘Volo?’ Togekiss spoke up after being released last. She quickly floated towards him, concern and confusion mixed in between.

  Volo truly hated that expression on her.

  “We are camping here for the night!” he declared, interrupting the Togekiss from asking any further. “I figured it’s been a while since we had a change of scenery, so I decided to spice things up.” The man spread his arms wide open, revealing the empty field that was filled with nothing but snow and chilling eternity.

  Garchomp especially did not appreciate the view.

  The Pokémon looked at each other, frowns and furrowed eyebrows mirroring each other. They knew their human friend was anything but fine. Ever since that dreadful fight on the Temple of Sinnoh, all of them realized that it was not just the battle that took a toll on their wielder.

  The Chosen One—as what he called her—was a very kind girl. A gentle and loving one. When Volo and Akari went on their last mission together, all of them could see that she brought happiness to him. A happiness that he had long forgotten. A happiness that they never would have thought been revived into him. A happiness that they solely desired for their beloved friend.

  But alas, happiness was nothing but a fleeting wish.

  A breeze suddenly whooshed through, biting the skin of every Pokémon. Garchomp shivered the most, absolutely did not appreciating the camping site for the night. ‘Are you serious…?’ Growling lowly, he scooted next to Arcanine. Although the Mach Pokémon had a rough exterior, at least her fur was warm.

  Lucario and Spritomb only watched as Garchomp huddled next to Arcanine. In a matter of seconds, Roserade did the same, now climbing on top of Arcanine as if he was about to ride her to sunset.

  The image was amusing—to Volo at least.

  Clap. “Now then,” A bright smile curled around the corners of his mouth, “who wants dinner?”

  He saw his Pokémon sigh in defeat. Volo then turned his attention to Togekiss, who only pursed her mouth in discontent.

  He didn’t want such an expression on his dear friend.

  One hand patted the top of her head. “I assure you: I’m fine.” Day by day, night by night, he reminded her. “I’m just tired, dear. Besides, it’s been a while since we all huddled around each other at night. I know you love that.” A promise of a cuddle-pile brought a glimmer of joy in her eyes. Volo smiled as Togekiss sighed, then shook her head in discernment.

  Finally, a worn-out smile tickled the Jubilee Pokémon’s face.

  ‘Alright, Volo.’ She chirped.

  While the wielder and Pokémon were preparing for the night, one lone creature stood from afar. Watching. Waiting.

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

  Days rolled to months ever since he joined her in this mission. It was Volo’s idea—and a grand one at that—to assist her in finding out the myths of Dialga and Palkia. He knew she had most of the plates. He knew she would be quick in getting the rest. Hell, partnering with her will give Volo a huge advantage in finding her weakness and exploiting it in their finale.

  Days rolled to months ever since she stuck by him. He started to know about her—whether he liked it or not. She talked about her world, her time. Akari had her secrets, but she was getting friendlier and friendlier which made it all too easy to get close to her.

  She was too easy. Too easy.

  He relished on that fact.

  “What was your time like?”

  His question stopped her from pampering her spoiled Typhlosion. “Oh?” He watched as Akari lean against the Pokémon—Hestia, if he remembered her name well. “You’re curious?”

  Teeth gritted tightly behind a sweet smile. “I’m always curious about you, Akari.” His chin rested in the palm of his right hand. Right elbow positioned on crossed legs, Volo leaned forward.

  His smile grew sweeter, sicker. “There is not a day in the world that I’m never not itching to know about you and your time.” Words were laced with honey and toxic, bubbling his throat until air tasted like copper.

  The sight of her blush only ached his jaw.

  He heard a cough, then silently observed as she sat up straight. “Well then,” Akari finally spoke, “What would you like to know first?”

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

  He wondered why tonight was the worst.

  He still remembered that conversation, that talk about her life in the future. She seemed so happy, so cheerful, so alive.

  He hated it.

  “I have a dear friend back in my time. We’ve known each other since childhood. He’s always this reckless guy who kept bumping into me every time we met.” He remembered the beautiful gleam in her eyes. “We started our journey together. Actually, it was because of him that we started our journey. He was always there to kind of give me a push when I felt hesitant.” He remembered the solemn smile of her pink lips.

  He hated it. He hated this blurry image of the person in her memories. He didn’t know why.

  “I lived with my mom.” He remembered her smile waver. “My dad… He passed away when I was 10. He had an incurable disease and he managed to live out long enough to see me grow up a bit.” Her words stung him, deep and bloody, opening a wound that he longed to forget. “But my mom and I pulled through! When I told her I was going on a journey when I was 16, she was super supportive.” Her smile shook at that time. Tears then shined in such dazzling dark eyes.

  He remembered it so well under the fleeting spark of the fire. He hated that it brought such agonizing pain in his chest.

  “And then there’s…” He remembered her hesitance. “Someone. She was like a big sister to me. She was so pretty and intelligent and always had my back when I felt stuck.” He remembered her smile was back, but her gaze now fully fixed on him.

  She looked so reminiscent. So nostalgic.

  The pain in his chest was unbearable, even until now.

  “After our final battle, she kind of took me in and guided me as the Pokémon Champion.” He remembered how she then flustered for a while as the alien term hovered in his mind. “It’s uh…a thing where people call you when you’re a super strong trainer from my time.”

  That explained a lot, he guessed, considering from the number of times she handled herself flawlessly in battles.

  His eye twitched when he remembered how she kept looking at him. But her eyes glistened, vision wistful as if she was looking at someone else.

  He hated that a lot.

  “You…reminded me of her.”

  That last sentence caught him off guard.

  He didn’t ask further after she realized how flushed she looked. Akari then excused herself quickly, running back to her tent and leaving his stunned self to recap what he had been told.

  “Pretty…” The word peeped so silently that death couldn’t listen. A dead chuckle then slipped out next. He had been called that a few times in the past. After being found by the Ginkgo guild, he had to navigate his way to survive, even if it meant using his body. During all his exploits, many people had called him that: pretty, beautiful, even downright heavenly. It was nothing to him. He knew the pleasures of the flesh meant nothing than the absolute devotion his soul craved for the being above.

  And yet…when she said his beauty reminded her of her own precious memory…

  Thump.

  One cold fist landed quietly on a log.

  Stupid… His mind reeled. Stupid…foolish…fucking girl… How dare she to compare him to someone else! Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he was intelligent. All of that took effort and dedication to where he was now. If he did none of that, he wouldn’t have succeeded it finding and conspiring with Giratina. If he did none of that, he would have died a lacklustre death just like his people. Yes, he was helpful to her, but only to reap his own gains—nothing more.

  Nothing more…

  Ba-dump…

  One hand weakly clutched where his heart rested.

  He was only using her.

  He was only manipulating her!

  Grey eyes watched the fleeting fire before him. Its gleam long gone; he felt his vision grow blurry.

  Her bright smile devilishly played in his mind, in his eyes.

  He…w-was…

  Crack.

  Eyes widened when the sound dropped him back to reality.

  Quickly Volo stood up and turned around. He saw nothing but barren trees and pure snow. The secluded part of Icebound Falls should not be inhabited by that many wild Pokémon—which was why he shooed all his Pokémon in the pretence of finding more wood and food just so he could have a peace of mind.

  Unfortunately, his constricted heart affected his foggy mind as well.

  “Great…” A low mumble vibrated between pale lips. Mind as quick as his body, he snatched a nearby log and lit it on fire. In a matter of seconds, he brought the newly-lit log forward. “If you’re planning to attack me, I ask that you don’t.” Cold. Cold and dead were the tone that slithered from such treacherous tongue.

  Suddenly, the ground beneath him was blanketed in purple fog.

  It approached him with quick speed, yet slowed down when wrapped around his ankles. The purple fog swirled upwards like ribbons, tracing over such worn boots. His surroundings started to darken—grew darker and darker as if the full moon was devoured. The air felt thicker, quite harder to breathe.

  And yet he had faced worse.

  Grey eyes looked forward, vision fixed on the creature that eerily hovered behind withered trees. It stood quietly, body a haze of red and white. The shapeless figure didn’t move, yet its mist-like miasma slithered closer and closer. Wind was void, but the atmosphere grew colder and colder. A moonless night was swallowed by darkness, fading out every single star that flickered pitifully on the fallen man.

  The purple miasma flowed up and up, tracing to his legs.

  Jaw clenched rigidly as Volo took a deep breath.

  “Hah…” A short exhale popped out. “Hah…ha…” Air thickened, but it meant nothing as fear itself was long gone. “Really now…” Grey eyes glared at the black shadow. It had stood away from the dead trees, now wavered a few steps away. It wobbled and swayed. Black, elongated shadow stretched longer and longer; its tips sharpened in shapes of claws.

  How foolish.

  “Away.” Again, his tone reeked of death. He brought the fire forward. “Away.” The word was all he could manage. All he could sputter. Though fear tried to snake its way into his dead heart, Volo pushed himself closer as if he was to welcome death.

  Considering all that he went through, he might as well with open arms.

  WHOOSH!!

  Suddenly, the purple miasma transformed into wind. The gust enveloped not the stunned human, but instead on the eerie shadow. The violent gust swirled and spiralled madly around it, forming a small tornado that almost cracked the trees near the shadow.

  Curses spat between clenched teeth, Volo raised his other arm near his face. Eyes squinted. Face ached. Slight burns could be felt on his cheeks; he soon realized that the miasma held poison. Quickly he took another deep breath, then covered his mouth with the same free hand.

  Before he could blink twice, the gust-filled shadow plunged in his direction.

  Acting fast, he swung the torch in front of him. Fwoosh! The flames swayed roughly, almost brushing the sleeve of his worn coat. Thankfully, the shadow didn’t dare to come closer. It stopped immediately, though then exploded upwards into a wild gust that almost threw him aback.

  Volo stood his ground, boot planted deep into the white snow. Panic rushed into his mind, he raised the torch, ready to slam and burn the blasphemous creature—

  Just as he opened his eyes, pupil shrunk into tiny dots.

  Breathing hitched immediately.

  Standing before him was no longer the mysterious shadow. Standing before him was no longer the disgusting miasma. Standing before him was no longer a creature that only had a terrifying glow of yellow dots.

  No.

  “A…k-ka…”

  Standing before him was the one girl he loathed the most.

  The girl stood before him. A smile curled her face. Eyes of pure black glistened under the glistening stars. A word or voice was never heard. A peep was never uttered from such pretty pink lips.

  And yet, her presence was enough to overwhelm gravity around Volo.

  “I—” The ground he proudly stood on started to shake. Reality he held so strongly started to shatter. The flames on the torch died out at once, log then dropped by limp fingers that had lost all grip. Grey eyes were wide as they could be, vision blurry even as disbelief robbed him of a clear mind.

  She was here.

  She was here.

  She stood quietly, smiling still with her cute head tilted to the side. Her hands were folded at the back. The white headband she always wore was free from dirt or blood. Black hair gleamed like precious coal, shining even despite the absence of the moon. She watched as Volo was thrown into torturous bafflement. She watched as Volo stumbled and stuttered like a piteous fool.

  The more he looked at her, the more he felt breathless.

  Y-You… Her laughter resonated so melodiously in his ears. Aka—Aka…r— Her smile rolled endlessly in his vision. I… He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. I… All that could ever encapsulate his mind, body, and soul now was the very nightmare that haunted his living.

  The girl then raised her arms.

  Neither a sound nor a noise, she stretched her hands towards him. Her smile was still as luminescent as the cold sun. Her eyes gleamed brightly that rivalled the stars. Her head still tilted; eyes still fixated on the stunned bastard.

  As she reached closer and closer, what were once delicate hands now slowly cracked and elongated into misshapen claws.

  Nails turned to sharp claws. Palms sizzled into white, cold fur. Small arms stretched longer and longer, twisted and turned to a length that became longer than her entire body. The palms became wider, closer as they reached him.

  Her smile still stayed in place, though now crooked open with fangs that peeked from behind. The smile grew wider and wider, pulled up to her ears, curled painfully straight to its widened eyes. The beautiful gleam of black was gone, replaced with a glow of yellow that surrounded such blown-out pupils.

  And yet, Volo only saw her.

  “A…” The single letter of her name died on his tongue. “A…k-ka…” The futile desire of calling her name tasted like copper in his mouth.

  The bloody claws reached closer to him…

  “A—”

  Closer to his face…

  “—ka—”

  Closer to his eyes…

  “—ri—”

  ‘VOLO!’

  In a matter of seconds, all became a blur.

  A flurry of dark blue whooshed in front of Volo. It crashed against the disfigured girl. Another explosion of purple and white threw the man aback that this time, he actually did get fling backwards.

  Thankfully, injuries were avoided as his back landed on something soft.

  ‘Volo!!’ Togekiss screamed in fear. Her scream was drowned by many others, though most were in anger at the creature that almost took their wielder’s life. Immediately, Lucario rushed for his aid, paw holding Volo’s back and the human groaned on soft snow. Once assured that she was safe to move away, Togekiss quickly flew and floated in front of her friend. ‘Volo, are you alright? Can you hear me?!’

  Shock and pain now doubled as Volo tried to shake off whatever had held his mind hostage. One hand held his throbbing head. A hiss spat through clenched teeth. Another spat, this time with blood, dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “Ack—” Pain electrocuted his mind awake. Volo sucked the insides of his mouth, then flinched to feel blood coating his tongue.

  BOOM!!

  Explosions and screams echoed the barren land. Mind a muddle, Volo tried to sit up straight and reassessed the situation.

  There—lying on the ground a few steps away and surrounded by his Pokémon—was the creature that played such a cruel game.

  The figure of the girl he knew was gone, quickly dissipating and instead replaced with a ghostly body of white and red. Though upper body twisted backwards from Garchmp’s violent tackle, the faded spectre got back to its feet.

  Crack…craaaaaaack…

  Slowly it turned its upper body back to its place. Bit by bit, echoes of bones and flesh rang hauntingly under a foreboding night. Its head—the head that still was in the shape of the girl—dangled loosely on the side. Once its body was fixed, it straightened its back. The head was stitched by purple mist, wrapping around its neck as the face drooped, jaw sagged like thick liquid.

  Then finally, finally, it revealed its true form.

  A wild mane of white and red covered half its face. A white gleam of bleeding fangs present itself over a gaping maw. Its arms dropped forward, black claws dangling so close to snow that was now painted in red. Its body was so thin, almost skeletal, back hunched forward as it looked at its furious preys.

  Anger still fuelled inside such mad eyes, Garchomp lowered his head and growled. Spiritomb flared himself bigger, ready to become a shield for Volo. Arcanine stood on all fours, the ground below her shaking. A small gust of flowers began to spiral around Roserade as he glared at the terrifying Zoroark—

  “…ahaha…”

  The lone sound actually stunned them.

  Quickly they glanced at the owner of the voice, eyes spotting nothing but their wielder shaking between Togekiss and Lucario.

  “Ha…” His hat long thrown away from the blast, Volo only dropped his head forward. “Ha…hahaha…” Dry, blonde locks cascaded to the sides of his head, preventing anyone from seeing the expression that was plastered.

  Concern replaced with anger, Togekiss hovered closer to him. ‘Volo…are you—’

  Instead of finishing her question, Togekiss instead gasped in shock to see Volo snapped his head upwards.

  “HahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!” Again and again and again he laughed. Madness spiralled his pupils to the tiniest dots possible. Butt still on the frigid snow, Lucario—just as baffled and concerned—only held his back as Volo leaned backwards and backwards.

  His laughter went on and on, scaring even his own team as he showed no signs of stopping. His neck craned so painfully backwards. One hand slapped his eye, wide and quivering. Cackles only resonated with stars as his audience. Lips were now painted in red, trickling down the corner of his maniacal glee.

  Their Pokémon only watched. Only gaped. Even the Zoroark stood in place, though mostly annoyed at such a vile sight that was presented to it—

  “Kill it.”

  Laughter then suddenly stopped. Replaced with one order.

  His head was still craned backwards. One hand was still slapped on one side of his face.

  The silence was heavy. Unbearable. Unbreathable.

  Finally, Volo threw his head forward; his eyes were nothing but red.

  “KILL—” Anger and mania spiralled madly inside a dangerously, madly beating heart. “—IIIIIT!!!”

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

  ‘Volo really needs Akari again.’

  The rest stopped once they heard Lucario’s comment.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Garchomp spoke up. ‘Akari is the whole reason he’s like that!’ Voice of clear discontent, the Mach Pokémon huffed at Lucario’s frown.

  ‘Yes, but he’s partially at fault too. The aura he’s resonating has been nothing but cold and it got worse ever since Akari left him.’

  ‘You mean since he left Akari?’ Roserade chimed in while still sitting valiantly on Arcanine. ‘Even though everything was a foggy mess and we were all pretty knocked out, I remember clearly about him saying something to hear before implying that he walked away.’

  Arcanine sighed quietly while Spiritomb chimed in. ‘That night was way too intense, even for my standards…’ Shivers ran down the Forbidden Pokémon. ‘Whatever Giratina did that night…I’m surprised we all came out unscathed.’

  ‘I’m surprised Akari came out alive.’ Arcanine finally opened her mouth. The vivid memory of such an apocalyptic moment played in their minds, making them shiver once again at the possibility of it happening again.

  ‘He had to do that for a better future.’ Lucario calmly reassured. ‘He had suffered enough. It’s only fair that he wanted to live in a better world, even if it means destroying this one.’ Paws brushed the bristling fur on his arms. ‘It was terrifying but…we know he did that with our best intentions as well.’

  Silence echoed around the team.

  Even Garchomp remained quiet, pondering and frowning at the situation they were in. ‘Still…if he had told us the plan carefully, we would have helped!’ Quickly he looked at the Togekiss who had been the quietest. ‘Didn’t he tell you anything?’

  The Jubilee Pokémon only shook her head. ‘He tells me everything…’ Sorrow trickled her tone. ‘I—ever since we were young, he would always tell me secrets. But ever since we lost our village and his people, and especially ever since Akari came to our world, he—’ Her voice croaked at the memory. This earned a rough elbow from Lucario to Garchomp for being the one at fault.

  ‘It’s not your fault…’ Spiritomb comforted her. ‘We all didn’t know. Hell, even Lucario had a hard time reading Volo. Let alone you.’

  A small smile peeped from her.

  ‘Thank you…’ Togekiss then took a deep breath. ‘That being said, I can tell that he was…starting to be like his old self around Akari.’

  They all stayed quiet, silently asking for an explanation.

  And so, she did. ‘Volo used to be happier, kinder. I mean, he’s always happy and reveals himself more openly to us. But never to humans ever since his people died. But ever since Akari came into this world, I saw something…genuine that I long thought was dead. Ever since our last mission, he started opening up to her, being close to her. It was as if Volo was being his young self—his young self who was filled with love and belief.’

  Silence still became their response. Neither denied, for all could see the truth in her words.

  ‘Which is why I was able to evolve and why I was even more confident to become who I am now.’ Togekiss started to hover downwards, mirroring the sorrow that gleamed in her eyes. ‘So…when the thing at Temple of Sinnoh happened…I was shocked…I…’ Her eyes closed. Another breath taken. ‘I know this world is so cruel to him. I know he wants a better life. And I support his choices no matter what. I just…thought…that…when Akari came to his life, she is the whole world he is looking for…’

  The last statement was heavy to them, heavier for their hearts to bear. The truth was harder to swallow, even harder to release.

  Finally, Lucario broke the woeful silence. ‘In any case, if this gets worse, I believe it’s best that we find her for him—’

  Suddenly, red eyes shrunk.

  In a blink, Lucario turned around and dashed away.

  ‘L-Lucario?!’ Arcanine stumbled, almost pushing Roserade off her back as Lucario zipped past her. ‘Hey, what’s wro—’

  It all but took one word from Lucario to know something was wrong: ‘Volo!’

  Without hesitation, they all rushed back to camp.

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

  Silence.

  That was the only melody that hummed the dark sky above.

  The ground below was anything but pure. Rancid smell of flesh and poison soaked the air. What was once pure white was now stained in deep, black crimson. Foggy limbs and white wisps lingered on one spot, providing a nauseating stench that Arcanine had prepared her flames to extinguish it.

  She would now if she could—if not for the lone human who kneeled before the dismembered carcass.

  The other watched their wielder, watched as his back shook so weakly. Togekiss was the only who hovered close to him; revolting stench be damned.

  ‘Volo…’ she peeped, voice extremely meek. Yet he never responded, never replied.

  One lone man only kneeled quietly, motionlessly. Grey eyes were still blown wide. Blonde locks were still in complete disarray. His head was down, though gaze fixated on the bloody carcass that rotted so slowly.

  Grey eyes—once peaked with mania—were now wide and bleak, focused on the one girl whose smile shined radiantly in his gaze. On the one girl whose laughter rang melodiously in his ears. On the one girl whose touch sent shivers to his skin. On the one girl who reminded him of a time of unreachable bliss. On the one girl who gave him warmth when he felt eternally cold.

  On the one girl who infuriatingly, despicably stole his very reason to live.

  “Ha…” His vision blurred, stained by sickening tears. It trickled down and down, mixing with dry blood that stained the corner of his lips. “Ha…ha…”

END

[hertzwritings]

When tomorrow starts without me

A/N: This is a one-shot for the absolutely brilliant @heavenlybarnes and her writing challenge, In love verse. It was HARD to narrow down to a single poem, because I am a whore for poems and classic novels, so this truly sent me spiraling. Alas, I finally decided on one – the completely heartbreaking poem, If tomorrow starts without me by David Romano (which will be in its entirety at the end of this story). I hope y’all will like it as much as I do and go give the amazing Layla some love for her FANTASTIC writing.

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and requests are always open – there are no limits, because I am me and have none. You can donate to my Ko-Fi here, and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, oneshot or multi-chapter fic depending on what you donate!

 MASTERLIST

SEBASTIAN STAN MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader  

Warnings: Angst with a touch (like teeny tiny) of fluff, mentions of death

Wordcount: 1.438

 If tomorrow starts without me

 Bucky had known pain long before he understood it – along with the rise and fall of beauty and youth, that came and went as quickly as the sun would rise and set. He had been alone for most of a lifetime, if not two, and then he found you.

You were a daisy, sprouting stubbornly in the cracks of asphalt and not bothered by the winds of change. You had smiled at him, and he felt like his mind suddenly mirrored his looks; he was no longer a man of constant sorrow and wilting, faltering mind in comparison to his youthful looks. He was understood and loved and had been loved for years by you.

He laid on his back, rubble and smoke around him and felt oddly at ease, despite the slow and steady wet, warm spot that formed into a crimson lake drop by drop. He knew now that he wouldn’t have a tomorrow. He wouldn’t see her eyes again, the slow burning and yearning behind them.  

He could hear the crackle of Sam’s voice in his ear, but he was deaf to it now; only occupied by the thoughts of you.

He heard the thundering of feet running to him and he turned his head to see you, eyes wild and wet as you descended to your knees next to him, breath quick and tears mixing a strange saltiness to the pool under him. Your hands were frantic on the wound, but he simply put his hands over yours, stilling your movements. He had never promised you a tomorrow, and now, today would be the last. Despite his years and life lived, as he watched the tears streamed down your face, mixing with dust and blood on your cheek, he wished to relive yesterday, just for a moment more, wished he’d be able to say goodbye, kiss you and maybe even see you smile. You were mumbling words, he didn’t hear anymore – he wished you didn’t have to cry over him. He hated goodbyes. His mind turned to the many things he never got to say, the love he never truly expressed enough for you. He knew as you knew that he loved you just the same as you loved him, and that seemed, for a moment, like it was enough. Now, as he slowly felt more and more tired and weak, it wasn’t nearly enough. For all the life he lived, now he thought he didn’t want to die.

Your hands shook under his and he smiled an unsteady smile at you; you sobbed soundlessly now, your eyes full of the same sorrow he had felt before he knew you and he wished he could take it from you. If he could, he’d carry your sorrow and pain without thinking twice about it. It was his plight in this life that he would never be able to take this pain. He didn’t want to leave you, thinking it simply impossible to rest somewhere without you with him.

He thought of the yesterdays, the years gone by and by, the good and the bad; the love they had shared. He feared that emptiness and memories would take his place and a rush of already missing worldly things came over him as a wave of cool, ocean water. But it was his time, as it should have been 70 years ago, and death caught up to him – ironically, it did at the same time as he ran from it. Now, he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to leave and the last few years he had been running towards life with death at his heels. He knew it would come to this.

He couldn’t feel your hands on him anymore or see your face clearly, all of it fading away as the silence grew heavy. He saw Steve, a hand outstretched to him and the soft promise, that there would be no longing for the past there. He took his hand and before he walked away with his old friend, he looked back at you, hugging his lifeless body tightly to your own, sobs raking your body as you screamed for him. His heart was heavy with sorrow and a tear spilled over. He wanted to tell you that though tomorrow would start without him, an angel came to take his hand, that somewhere else was where he should be now – as much as he wanted to stay, he had outlived himself for too many years. No, he had never wanted you to experience this. He only wanted good for you, the life of you to be surrounded by gentle touch and laughter, not in a cold, empty warehouse hugging a body that would never hug you back. Steve turned to him with a smile and his words rang in his head, not ears, as he said that eternity starts today, that he was forgiven and at last, he was free. Free. Free from the eternal guilt that raked his body, free from nightmares, but also free from you; a sacrifice he had never wanted to make.

His heart was warm and soft, as if gentle winds lifted him through clouds, and the thoughts of you became a warm memory, not a sorrow and grief for what might’ve been as he followed his old friend to newer, permanent places. He thought so hard as he walked, he hoped you’d hear him. When tomorrow starts without me, don’t think we’re far apart, for every time you think of me, I’m right here in your heart.  

He would miss you. He looked to you as your years passed, your hair growing grayer and smile fonder, the memory of him now a reprieve, not a pain. You had a family and Sam came by once a month to visit Bucky as he laid forever still under soil and grass, cobwebs tenting his head; the stone was always cared for and the daisy, he had known you to be like, forced its way through the ground at the base of the stone, almost as a solid proof of where his heart laid as his physical body slept forever.

It felt like only yesterday he had said goodbye, when you joined him and your new tomorrow would start.

 If tomorrow starts without me, and I’m not here to see, If the sun should rise you find your eyes all filled with tears for me; I wish so much you wouldn’t cry the way you did today, While thinking of the many things we didn’t get to say. I know how much you love me, as much as I love you And each time that you think of me, I know you’ll miss me too. But when tomorrow starts without me please try to understand, That an angel came and called my name and took me by the hand. He said my place was ready, in heaven far above And that I’d have to leave behind all those I dearly love. But as I turned and walked away a tear fell from my eye. For all my life I’d always thought, I didn’t want to die. I had so much to live for, so much left yet to do. It seemed almost impossible that I was leaving you. I thought of all the yesterdays the good ones and the bad. I thought of all the love we shared, and all the fun we had. If I could relive yesterday, just even for a while, I’d say goodbye and kiss you and maybe see you smile. But then I fully realized that this could never be, For emptiness and memories would take the place of me. When I thought of worldly things I might miss come tomorrow I thought of you and when I did my heart was filled with sorrow. When I walked through heavens gates I felt so much at home. God looked down and smiled at me from his great golden throne He said, “This is eternity and all I’ve promised you” Today your life on earth has passed but here life starts anew. I promise no tomorrow, but today will always last And since each day is the same there’s no longing for the past. You have been so faithful so trusting and so true. Though there were times you did some things you knew you shouldn’t do. You have been forgiven and now at last you’re free. So won’t you come and take my hand and share my life with me? So when tomorrow starts without me don’t think we’re far apart, For every time you think of me, I’m right here in your heart.

 TAGLIST: 

@avengershoney @getthismoose @gloriuspurposee @sebastianstansassslaps @the-omni-princess @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @xcallmetaniax  @calstielwinchester @janita @lover-of-bucky @marvel-whor  @tfandtws @youtubersshipper @one-sweet-gubler  @keiva1000 @cooldreamlandsandwich​

[nerdy-simp-7120]

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything  😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures 

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned 

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on 

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room 

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human 

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be 

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas, 

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

So 

So 

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

[beyondspaceandstars]

Hide and Seek

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: N/A Summary: You come home to your husband and son in an intense game of hide and seek. A/N: Based off a writing prompt: "He knew he must keep very still while he waited."

Masterlist

Steve knew he must keep very still while he waited. A soldier at heart, this task should’ve been a small feat but for some reason this time it was tougher.

He was crouched in your shared closet, way behind all the boxes of sweaters and scarves you stored away during the summer months. His foot was starting to cramp in this position but he just knew any small move could potentially send shockwaves throughout the apartment.

He didn’t know how long he had been like this — 20 minutes? 30? An hour, maybe? The ache in his bones made it feel like a whole day had passed but, alas, he tried to keep his body still and eyes glued to the door.

However — when the cramping in his foot became too much he decided one little tweak of it could be okay. He didn’t hear anyone even near the room. If done real fast it would be alright, Steve concluded. Ever so slightly he worked to maneuver to a sitting position but didn’t account for the weakness of his cramped foot. Ungracefully, he fell to the ground, kicking one of the sweater boxes.

Within moments, feet were padding their way to the bedroom closet. The door was swung open confidently and a tiny voice let out a shriek.

"I found you!"

Steve chuckled at his son’s excitement. The young child stared at his dad from the doorway, eyes glimmering with pride, hands clapping wildly. Steve worked his way from out behind the boxes and picked up his son, who was still giggling at his accomplishment.

"You did, buddy," Steve chuckled along, giving his son a high-five. "Nice work."

"Now I hide," the child demanded and started squirming to be let loose.

"Hang on, bud," Steve said, readjusting for a better grip on his anxious son. "It’s getting late. Mom will be home soon. We should start getting dinner ready."

His son shook his head, blond curls bouncing in the process, a real interesting display of yours and Steve’s genes at work.

Steve sighed, "One more round and then we start dinner, okay?"

The child had no protests as he squirmed again to get out of Steve’s arms. Steve placed him back down and let him waddle off throughout the home. Turning his back, Steve began to count.

However, unbeknown to your husband, you had got off work just a little bit early. It was the weekend and your boss was in an interestingly good mood for the day. You didn’t question it and jumped on the chance to get back to your husband and son.

Finally out of traffic and back home, you unlocked the front door and waited for the squeals welcoming you home but it never came. You looked around the living room and kitchen only to find it deserted.

Fearing your husband had put your son down for a nap and the very last thing you needed was a groggy child, you didn’t call out. Instead, you went right to placing your items on the counter and shedding your shoes and blazer. As you went to return your shoes to the front door mat, a sudden, clear thud came from the pantry in the kitchen.

Placing your items down, you slowly crept back into the kitchen. The thud occurred again again but this time just slightly quieter. It still happened, though. You weren’t going crazy. Quite bewildered, you mentally prepared yourself for whatever this could possibly be (Rats? With your luck it was going to be rats eating all the snacks) and slowly opened the pantry door.

Amazingly, you weren’t greeted by rats and instead found your son cuddled up under the bottom shelf, knees to his chest, trying to tuck himself away.

"Honey?" You asked, getting more questions than answers by this. "Are you alright?"

"Shh!" Your son exclaimed, bringing a finger to his mouth emphasizing the fact you shouldn’t be talking.

"What-,"

"Doll, you’re home!" Another voice called to you. You turned away from your hiding son to be greeted by your husband. As he was walking towards you, your son quickly got up and slammed the pantry door shut, making you jump.

"Is everything okay-,"

"Have you seen our beautiful son around here?" Steve asked knowingly. His eyes were serious but his playful smirk told you to what was going on.

"Oh!" You chuckled. "You know what? I have not. Maybe he ran away."

Steve nodded, "Hmm, really? Now, that’s quite unfortunate. I was thinking we could make his favorite for dinner."

You couldn’t help but giggle at the exaggerated faux disappointment radiating from him. "Darn, I guess we will just have to enjoy all the dino chicken nuggets. Maybe even a little ice cream for dessert."

Steve hummed appreciatively at the idea.

"Hey!" A tiny voice came from the pantry. In seconds, your son was stomping out into the kitchen, hands on his hips with face full of anger that was just too cute. "That’s not fair."

You and Steve let out a laugh and both crouched down to your frustrated child’s height.

"We’re just kidding, honey," you said, brushing his curls through your hands and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "You can have the chicken nuggets and ice cream tonight."

"No," He frowned. "I meant that’s not fair because that’s not how you play the game, dad. You have to come find me. You gave up. You asked mom."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you glanced at Steve. He, too, shared quite the interested in look in your child’s protest. He was turning in to quite the genius with a knack for following rules — the rule aspect being part of where similarities between the two diverged.

"Well, bud," Steve sighed, unsure what sort of explanation he could give. "Sometimes you have to get creative. There’s lots of different ways to play games."

"But it’s called hide and seek," He insisted. "And we were playing. Not with mom."

Steve nodded, "You’re right. I cheated which is a very wrong thing to do and you know what they say?"

Your son cocked his head in confusion.

"Cheaters never win," Steve explained. Your son’s eyes lit up at the realization.

"So, I won!"

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your face watching your lovely husband interact with your son. It was something that always warmed your heart and you doubted you would ever get used to. Just the way they looked at each other, each seemingly amazed by the other, was unreal.

"You won, buddy," Steve chuckled.

Your son let out cheers at his victory making you two chuckle in awe. When calmed, Steve picked him up and started looking around the kitchen.

"Now, I think we promised our little winner here some chicken nuggets."

You stood, heading to the freezer. "I believe they are dino chicken nuggets."

"Yeah, dad," your son said, arms folded, pouting. "Dino chicken nuggets."

"Oh, I am so sorry," Steve humorously apologized, which your son nodded in appreciation of.

"Yeah, get it right." You smiled as you spread the frozen nuggets on a tray. In retaliation for the teasing, Steve came up behind you and squeezed at your side earning a squeal from you. When you faced to turn him, he captured you in a loving kiss.

"Ugh," you son frowned at you two, earning more laughter which rang out through the household.